Curiosities

8 is the loneliest number

img0129.jpg8 mm film, 8 track tapes, 8 inch floppy disks, all once promising media storage formats are for the most part gone from our daily use and even popular memory. Replaced by modern day equivalents of WAV files, MP3s, and cloud computing, our common media storage and delivery has moved from the tangible to intangible.

What is an archivist to do?

The time has come where archives and libraries are better equipped and staffed to manage the latter rather than the former. Maintaining AV rooms filled with half-working equipment for playback is a no win situation. Institutional repositories and internet based applications are better able to store, playback and preserve digitally created information than ever before.

A recent discovery of a box full of 8 inch floppies all marked as correspondence from the office of the Vice President for Health Sciences demonstrates the conundrum in the collection of historical documents. On the one hand, the content of the disks are absolutely central to the collecting focus for the History Project, yet on the other, the media is so obsolete and likely degraded to the point of being unable to retrieve any information.

The 8 inch floppy, like its successors the 5 in., 3.5in., Jaz and Zip disks, were tied to specific hardware operating systems. Yet, it often had multiple formats, disk densities, transfer rates, and spinning heads that made them even in their prime incompatible with other 8 inch disk drives. The ability to rescue data off any 8 inch diskette today would be beyond most IT skill sets and, due to the low data capacity they actually held, not worth the expense.

1980s computing taught us in the 1990s to fear the question of “how will I be able to save, read, open, edit this after the media, format, software, hardware changes?” However, in the last ten years the migration of electronic records has become easier to understand and to accomplish with only minor cautionary steps.

Changes in storage media will always challenge our preservation techniques and cause a few gaps in recorded history. This is to be expected and for the most part accepted as progress to better record keeping. I’m sure the first few recipes for baked clay tablets didn’t quite turn out as expected, yet I’ve never heard anyone mention cuneiform tablets as an unstable media.

So with this in mind I will look at my box of 8 inch floppies, and the information they might contain, and realize that this gap of documentation is an example of the jumps made from one media system to the next that is likely lost to history.


Gross anatomy

From time to time, when sorting though boxes and folders of personal papers and office records, certain things will jump out at you as being out of place or not part of the original intention of the creator. Often times this addition to a collection is an unwanted biological guest like bugs or spiders (sometimes living but mostly dead), mold or mildew (usually dormant but sometimes active), and once I even saw the skeletal remains of a mouse (definitely an unintentional addition).

However, working with collections that focus on the health sciences, stumbling across a biological specimen is usually no accident at all. I’ve found random, unlabeled paraffin wax pathology samples as well as a wax cast of the inner ear (harvested post-mortem).

Today was a new anatomical sample in the archives. Inside this miniature cigar box were nearly two dozen envelopes containing extracted adult human teeth from the 1950s.

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Most had their full roots and represented all types of molars, bicuspids, and incisors.

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It was as if some contemptuous tooth fairy had stashed them away.


Iron lung

So where do you keep your Iron Lung?

img0122.jpgA common question among archivists and museum curators in the health sciences, the answer usually involves an off site location that can handle the nearly half-ton piece of equipment. This model belongs to the University of Minnesota and sits idle in warehouse off campus.

I haven’t been able to determine its date of manufacture. The Emerson Co. ceased production in 1970. Its model no. is R, serial no. W. A repair tag indicates the last service date was in 1978.

img0121.jpgThis model is likely from the 1950s. The early Emerson Iron Lungs from the 1930s were a baby blue color. The Smithsonian has the first Emerson model. The Minnesota Historical Society reportedly has a baby-blue Emerson in storage. J. H. Emerson became synonymous with the respirator after his less expensive model usurped the market from the Drinker Respirator developed at Harvard in 1929.

For most of us, looking at an Iron Lung stirs up a sense of claustrophobic restlessness. For those whose lives were saved by the device, a much more complicated set of feelings must be invoked. As of 2004, an estimated 40 people still relied on the respirators to survive.

The people who benefited from the Iron Lung did so with the help of others. They were not just placed inside and parked. The respirator was designed to be as portable as possible despite its weight and reliance on electricity.

A 1953 article in the Minnesotan, a publication for faculty & staff, details the behind the scenes work with the respirators at the University Hospitals. The article describes the care and upkeep of the machines, the planning and process to always have enough on hand at the height of polio outbreaks, and the ways in which patients and their respirators were moved and transported including the use of 50 foot extension cords to go from electrical outlet to outlet and police escorts. Learn more in the article below.

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Box variations

img0115.jpgArchivists can spend a lot of time thinking about what goes into a box. Whatever document, report, letter, memo, etc. placed inside immediately earns an institutional commitment to its long-term preservation. Who knew going into a box was such a privileged position?

At other times, archivists hear the perennial call to think outside the box, which is an ironic metaphor for a profession that cannot stop thinking about the inside of the box.

One recent visitor to the archives dryly noted that even our boxes come in boxes. And, as if to add insult to injury, for five years this archivist lived next door to a traveling box salesman. It seems we cannot escape the box.

And then there are those rare moments when we must think of the box, not as a storage device, but as part of our history.

JacksonTimeCapsule2.jpgSuch is the case with this copper container that was once the time capsule located inside Jackson Hall. Sealed and placed in the cornerstone of the new anatomy building on September 5, 1911, this box contained local newspapers, University of Minnesota photos, reports, Masonic publications, Cass Gilbert plans for south of Washington Avenue as well as a letter written by Dr. Thomas Lee, then Director of Anatomy, which accompanied the items. Opened in January 2005 to much fanfare, this box and its contents continue to attract attention and commemoration.

img0114.jpgThe most recent box variation presenting itself in the archives is a drawing of a box that is stored safely inside an archival box. This is an architect’s design of the copper time capsule placed inside the walls of Basic Sciences, now Hasselmo Hall. Once opened, perhaps this copper box and its contents can join its architectural rendering in the archives for their long-term preservation. Time and time again, the commitment to the archival box seems to outlast the guarantee of brick and mortar.


What did this place used to be?

img0097.jpgWhat did the Center for Spirituality and Healing’s Meditation Room used to be? It is a trick question. The answer is: a meditation room.

The Meditation Room located in the courtyard of the Mayo Memorial served as a gathering place for families and individuals needing a quiet place to think and reflect for more than 20 years. After the construction of the new hospital in 1986, the space then sat quietly, not in reflection, but idle for over a decade. In 2000 the room was assigned to the Center for Spirituality and Healing and used as a laboratory for research on Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR).

In 1965 the Meditation Room opened as a place for “people of all faiths to commune, to give thanks and to renew their spirits.” The room was an addition to the Mayo Memorial Building provided by a single anonymous donor to the tune of approximately $175,000.

Although the room and building have many symbolic Judeo-Christian elements (Gothic arches, sculpture of the burning bush, etc.), it is often incorrectly referred to as the chapel. The original intention for the space was simply to provide a quiet place for reflection and renewal.

The stained glass for the room was designed and installed by William Saltzman in accordance with the wish of the donor.

The brochure below discusses the details regarding the building’s design and themes.

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History on the walls

The halls of the Mayo Memorial Building seem to have little bits of history scattered throughout. There is a plaque here, a picture there, and even the occasional bronze bust.

img0091.jpgThe other day I walked by a plaque and series of pictures that seem to be lost in a moment of time. The plaque honors those who were selected and served as Chief of Medical Staff. The full text reads:

University Hospitals herewith recognizes and extends its appreciation to each of those who has served the hospitals as Chief of Staff and Chairman of the Medical Staff – Hospital Council.

Chosen by his colleagues to receive this honor, each has represented the Medical Staff and has participated in the development of policies and programs of the Hospitals.

The names inscribed on the plate are

Dr. Harold O. Peterson, 1966-1968
Dr. Lyle A. French, 1968-1970
Dr. John Najarian, 1970-1972
Dr. Donald Hastings, 1972-1974
Dr. Paul Winchell, 1974-1979
Dr. Paul Quie, 1979-1984
Dr. James Moller, 1984-1989
Dr. Robert Maxwell, 1989-

And there the list ends. Somewhere in the middle of Dr. Maxwell’s term with plenty of room left on the brass plate.

Did the administrative offices connected with the plaque move shortly after the 1989 addition of Dr. Maxwell and then leave it behind? Did Dr. Maxwell serve until the transfer of the hospitals to Fairview in 1996? Did Dr. Maxwell finish his tenure but never replaced? Questions I have yet to answer.


Brutal

img0083.jpgErwin’s molar.

That is how some referred to the Health Science Unit A shortly after it was completed in 1971, now officially named the Malcolm Moos Health Sciences Tower. The reference was to the then dean of the School of Dentistry, Erwin Schaffer. The school and dental clinics are one of the primary occupants of the structure.

I have heard others refer to the building as ugly, dark, oppressive, and Orwellian. But the most apt derogatory term would be brutal.

Moos Tower, Weaver-Densford Hall and the Phillips-Wangensteen Building, which comprise the majority of the health sciences complex expansion during the 1970s, are all examples of Brutalism in architecture.

The designation of Brutalism is actually derived from the French term for the style “breton brut,” or literally raw concrete. The style, common from the post-WWII period until the 1970s, is usually marked by rough concrete or stone exteriors with protruding sections that underscore the functionality of the interior spaces over the aesthetics of the facade.

A 2008 story on NPR highlighted the love/hate people have for the brutal style and discussed the move toward designating many structures, to the dismay of the occupants, as historic landmarks.

Boston’s City Hall, which has a strong resemblance to the U of M’s health sciences complex, is one such building on its way to receive a landmark designation.

See also Brutalist Architecture on Flickr.


Not so Cuil

img0077.jpgThis month a new internet search engine was released – Cuil (pronounced “cool”). It is a new endeavor by former Google employees meant to change the way we think about search results. Some highlights include 2 or 3 column listings instead of a single column in an attempt to emulate online newspaper layouts. It attempts to attach an image to each result from the web site in order to provide a visual cue on what to expect and finally, it touts a privacy policy that does not collect personally identifiable information.

Organization, access and privacy – the triumvirate of the information professional.

But now, let’s see how it works.

The search for Academic Health Center University of Minnesota (without quotes) sometimes brings up the AHC home page as the first result (as it should) and at other times, it isn’t even listed. A common variation on this search uses quotes to ensure inclusion so let’s try “Academic Health Center University of Minnesota.” No results were found. That seems a bit drastic. A different variation using “Academic Health Center” “University of Minnesota” does produce results, including the AHC home page, but occassionally the first result presented is the AHC’s dreaded 404 file not found page.

For comparison, the above three searches on Google consistently provides the AHC home page as the first result each and every time.

Let’s give it one last try with the simple search AHC History Project (without quotes). No direct results on the first page. In Google, this blog is number one.

As for the images associated with the search results, some are obvious, others are not even found on the page that is returned, meaning Cuil is just grabbing anything out of an image folder on the server.

Consistency during Cuil’s first week seems to be its biggest deficit. Search engines do get better over time and I may eventually be won over, but for now, Cuil, is not so cool.

 


What did this place used to be?

Most people do not walk through Fairview’s Environmental Services in the “B” corridor on the first floor of the Mayo Memorial Building. Even if they do, they may not realize that this corridor was the former home to Station 12 of the old University Hospital. They also may not realize that this section of the “B” corridor was originally the Elliot Memorial Hospital which opened in 1911.

A passerby will also not know that at one time an artist, who was also a patient, painted a scene of this corridor and that it hung behind the desk at Station 12. The painting depicted the patient’s view of the hallway while suffering from a detached retina. The upper left portion of the picture is shadowed from the loss of vision. I ran across a copy of this painting in a former newsletter published by the University Hospitals; however, I do not know where the original is located. It no longer seems to be hanging on the wall at the former Station 12.

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Seen your video

Yesterday, Peter Brantley of the Digital Library Federation was on campus to discuss areas of focus for future initiatives. One of those areas was the use of moving images as a source of information.

Without quoting him directly, Peter discussed how YouTube has demonstrated the online use of video to communicate complicated stories through moving images. These videos are compelling and promote the passing of first hand experiences and knowledge onto an audience.

A quick search of YouTube for related University of Minnesota health sciences content produced the following video that is an example of Peter’s discussion. It features prominent U of M medical researchers, Dr. Richard Bianco, Director of Experimental Surgical Services and Dr. Doris Taylor, Director of the Center for Cardiovascular Repair.

Of course, not all University of Minnesota health sciences content on YouTube was of the same caliber, as is seen in this medical student film documenting student housing by mimicking the popular MTV show Cribs.