Welcome to the Kenneth Spencer Research Library blog! As the special collections and archives library at the University of Kansas, Spencer is home to remarkable and diverse collections of rare and unique items. Explore the blog to learn about the work we do and the materials we collect.
James Coffin’s postcard from Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. James and Fern Nelson-Coffin Collection. Call Number: RH MS 1501. Click image to enlarge.
James Coffin’s postcard to Fern Nelson from Salt Lake City, September 1942. “I’m on my way again,” he writes, “destination undisclosed.” James and Fern Nelson-Coffin Collection. Call Number: RH MS 1501. Click image to enlarge.
The 99th BG trained with B-17s and moved initially to North Africa, assigned to the Twelfth Air Force. From there, strategic bombing missions were carried out against targets in Tunisia, Sardinia, Sicily, and Italy. By December 1943, the 99th was transferred to the Fifteenth Air Force station in Italy, where they remained until the end of the war.
For the most part, Jimmie Coffin’s letters at Spencer were addressed to his future wife, Fern Berniece Nelson (1914-2018), with a few letters from Fern to Jimmie preserved in the collection as well. His letters from the front lines focus on the personal rather than the military actions going on. Censorship prohibited writing about missions – not even mentions of the weather were permitted. He writes about what he’s fed, new movies he’s had the chance to see, and responses to the many inquiries of her letters. But most importantly, he repeats how much he misses her and misses home.
A tender and heartfelt letter from Fern to Jimmie, dated Christmas Eve, 1943. James and Fern Nelson-Coffin Collection. Call Number: RH MS 1501. Click image to enlarge.
As the war progressed, Jimmie’s letters moved from the North African Theater of Operations for the U. S. Army (NATOUSA) to Italy. The collection of letters ends in 1945 with the conclusion of the war. Coffin stayed in the service for several years thereafter, receiving his discharge in 1952 as a Technical Sergeant (T/SGT). After leaving the service, he led a career as a pharmacist.
The James and Fern Nelson Coffin collection (Call Number: RH MS 1501) offers a powerful, intimate window of the human experience of war. The letters show the enduring power of love and the pain of separation. They serve as a poignant reminder of the lifelines of family and home amidst global conflict. This collection is but one example of countless stories, both documented and untold, that bridged the long distances of the home front and front lines. May their words ensure the hopes and dreams of reunion not be forgotten.
This is the first in a short series of posts highlighting students’ projects from Laura Mielke’s Spring 2025 class, “Archives in Scholarship” (ENGL 776). This week’s post was written by Joohye Oh, who graduated from KU in 2025 with a B.A. in English and Spanish. Her research interests include foodways and literacy.
Cookbooks – especially historic ones – are fascinating texts. Unlike 21st-century cookbooks that feature pictures of recipes, touching or interesting narrative asides, and use of less commonly found ingredients, older American cookbooks prioritize presenting readers and users with a no-frills approach to cooking. These cookbooks tend to be text-heavy and use ingredients more likely found in a pantry than a gourmet grocer. A wonderful example of an intriguing historical cookbook is the Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book, published in 1894, which showcases a slice of late 19th-century American foodways and the culinary literacy of the organized and ambitious women of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Parsons, Kansas. (“Fin de siècle” is a French term meaning “end of century.”)
Left: The protective red board cover for the Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book, which is a library-created pamphlet binding. Right: The cookbook’s original cover, slightly deteriorating, with the full title. Call Number: RH B2788. Click images to enlarge.
The Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book consists of two sections. First, there are 58 printed pages that include tipped-in clippings from magazines. Second, in the back, there are 11 pages of faintly lined paper that Whitney Baker, Head of Conservation Services at KU Libraries, believes were bound with the original publication and printed section. Someone, presumably a woman, filled with the blank lined pages with handwritten recipes that she selected and compiled. Instead of being completely different from the printed section, I see the handwritten section as extending the themes of women’s authorship and community while offering contemporary researchers a closer look at earlier American foodways in relation to the genre of the cookbook and literacy practices.
A tipped-in clipping of a cranberry pie recipe in the printed part of the cookbook. Call Number: RH B2788. Click image to enlarge.
Women’s authorship is especially central to this object. Writing this cookbook arguably opened up new avenues for authorship and empowerment for the Parsons women, like the way literary clubs did for middle-class Black women in the 1890s, as African American literature and literary studies scholar Elizabeth McHenry shows (120). Additionally, the place of authorship for both groups reflects the importance of a shared community space: a church for the Parsons women and a literary club member’s home for the Black women. One can imagine how these women – positioned as authors – selected, arranged, edited, and published these recipes (texts). This model of authorship furthers the legacy of women as authors in the cookbook genre. In fact, several of the earliest known American cookbooks – like The Virginia Housewife by Mary Randolph (1824), a text that showcases the elaborate culinary repertoire of the Southern elite (Fisher 19) – are powerful texts by knowledgeable women, two characteristics also found in the handwritten portion of the Fin-de-Siècle cookbook.
Community as an essential part of learning to read and write can also be inferred from the processes related to producing this text; in other words, these “[community] cookbooks function as literate practices of a community, sponsored by the community members who were themselves cooks, contributors, readers, organizers and editors” (Mastrangelo 73). Indeed, physical traces of this can be seen via each recipe’s attribution to a specific woman as well as the broader fact that the women in Parsons were using their social and technical skills to engage in readerly and writerly practices tied to their growing culinary literacy. To write a cohesive cookbook, they would have had to learn the characteristics of the cookbook genre as well as its subgenres like recipes and instructions. The clear grasp of these characteristics and deft culinary knowledge is present in the neat organization of the cookbook and mirrored in the handwritten recipes which give specific unit measurements for ingredients and reflect a strong awareness of effective kitchen habits. The writer of the handwritten portion continues the practice of attributing specific recipes to specific women: for example, the “Tomatoes Pickles” recipe is attributed to Mrs. Dean while the “Coffee Cake” recipe, found a few pages later, is attributed to “Annie.”
The first recipe on this page is a handwritten recipe for coffee cake attributed to Annie, 1902. Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book, 1894. Call Number: RH B2788. Click image to enlarge.
The diversity of recipes in the second (handwritten) section hints at the importance of homemade food in the 19th century. Specifically, as someone whose culinary practices are greatly influenced by 21st-century food systems (easy availability of ingredients, prepared foods, and new food media) it is a little surprising at times to see recipes like “Good Tomato Catsup” and the instructions for mayonnaise/aioli in a “Salad” because these are two products I associate more closely with Heinz and Hellman’s. The appearance of these two condiments seems to reflect the different food practices for a woman and her household in Parsons before the advent of supermarkets and easy availability of industrial food items.
Together, the first and second parts of the Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book offer a small glimpse into the complex and vibrant American foodways of the late 19th century and their broader historical and cultural contexts. The handwritten recipes carefully capture the specialized knowledge, skills, and dedication that the woman compiler most likely possessed while also reinforcing the idea that community and gendered authorship exist in a text often overlooked as simply being a collection of memories or a collection of delightful eating. Cookbooks and recipes, just like the small handwritten portion at the back of the Fin-de-Siècle Cook Book, are masterful representations of how literacy exists in the spaces and places sometimes overlooked because of who we consider to be authors and what we consider to be literature – even if that literature is mostly pickled green tomatoes recipes.
Joohye Oh ENGL 776 student, Spring 2025
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Elspeth Healey, Phil Cunningham, Caitlin Klepper, Whitney Baker, and Shelby Schellenger at Spencer Research Library; English 776 peers; Professor Laura Mielke; and the ladies of Parsons who compiled this cookbook.
Works Cited
Baker, Whitney. “Re: Parsons cookbook.” Email received by Joohye Oh and Caitlin Klepper, 24 April 2025.
Fisher, Carol. The American Cookbook: A History. McFarland, 2006 (Call Number: X715 .F534 2006).
Mastrangelo, Lisa. “Community Cookbooks: Sponsors of Literacy and Community Identity.” Community Literacy Journal, vol. 10, no. 1, 2015, pp. 73–86.
McHenry, Elizabeth. Forgotten Readers: Recovering the Lost History of African American Literary Societies. Duke University Press, 2002 (Call Number: PS153.N5 M36 2002).
I began the Ringle Conservation Internship during the summer of 2025. The position interested me as a Museum Studies graduate student, as a hobbyist medium-format photographer, and as someone interested in conservation/archives as a career. I would not have been able to flourish in this position without the leadership of Whitney Baker and Charissa Pincock, and the support of conservation staff members Angela Andres, Kaitlin McGrath, and the many student workers who shared the laboratory with us. Each one of these persons readily and willingly offered their knowledge throughout the process.
Over the summer of 2025, I rehoused circa 2,500 glass plate negatives from the Hannah Scott Collection in the Kenneth Spencer Research Library Conservation Laboratory. This collection encompasses thousands of negatives taken by Hannah Scott, a photographer most prolific from the 1910s through 1945 who hand-recorded the names associated with the photograph onto the plates themselves. The plates were moved from old, now acidic, slip-sleeve housing into alkaline 4-flap housing to prevent image transfer and physical damage during access. I worked chronologically after my predecessors, beginning with photos taken in early 1939 and ending with those taken in early 1944. During this process, I recorded the variations of Scott’s handwriting to make deciphering her handwriting more streamlined (pictured below).
Handwriting guide showcasing the different examples of each letter found on plates in the Hannah Scott Collection.
Using online records resources such as FamilySearch, FindAGrave, and the Independence Public Library, I was able to match plates to missing names, and to find the first names of married persons. As I worked through the wartime years, seeing the same subjects return to Scott’s studio, I was able to witness firsthand the effect the war had on people’s lives (see below).
Portions of plate 6086 (Mrs. Vera Lee Knighten) and plate 6058 (John Mishler). Leftmost subject is sporting a jeweled and winged “V for Victory” lapel pin; rightmost subject is wearing an inverted U.S. military chevron (usually denoting Overseas War Service or Wounded) on civilian clothing worn in their graduation photographs. Hannah Scott Collection. Glass plate negatives, inverted positive images.
Plate 5504 (John Gooldy). A Certificate of Authority issued by the U.S. War Production Board giving the Independence, Kansas Coca-Cola Bottling Company permission to operate during wartime as an emergency vendor for refrigerator/air-conditioning repair. Hannah Scott Collection. Glass plate negative, inverted positive image.
Portions of plate 6044 (John Briggs) and plate 5519 (Walter McVey Jr.). Leftmost subjects are wearing children’s versions of Royal Air Force uniforms; rightmost subject is wearing a KU uniform in the style of a US Army Officer. Hannah Scott Collection. Glass plate negatives, inverted positive images.
Whether it was business, public, or private, the war seemed to pervade all aspects of these subjects’ life. While this wartime way of life is foreign to me, it can be made familiar through studying the subjects whose lives are preserved in the valuable glass plates of Hannah Scott.
Richard David Godsil III Summer 2025 Ringle Conservation Intern Conservation Services
Kenneth and Helen Spencer with their dog Topper in the garden of their home in Mission Hills, Kansas, spring 1959. Helen Foresman Spencer Papers. Call Number: RH MS-P 542. Click image to enlarge.
After much deliberation, Kenneth Spencer Research Library (KSRL) will be changing its name to Topper’s Library for Dog Research (TLDR) in honor of the Kenneth and Helen Spencer’s dog Topper, pictured above. Here at KSRL, staff seek to tell the stories of the hidden figures of history, not just people of great renown. Behind every Alice Walker (RH PH P2851) or Langston Hughes (RH MS 127), there are communities who helped support these figures of history. And of course, what greater support could there be than the support of man’s best friend!
The TLDR, formerly known as the KSRL, already has many historical items featuring these good boys and girls of history, and we seek to collect and preserve even more. We’ve included some of our favorite photographs of TLDR’s canine companions below.
“One way to beat the heat. Little Georgeann Levon of Pottstown PA and her dog, Mike, wrap in wet towels and drink,” June 1957. Lawrence Journal-World Photograph Collection. Call number: RH PH LJW. Click image to enlarge (redirect to Spencer’s digital collections).
Portrait of H. G. Davis and his dog, 1911. Joseph Judd Pennell Photograph Collection. Call Number: RH PH Pennell. Click image to enlarge (redirect to Spencer’s digital collections).
Portrait of Mrs. Dot Kline and her dog, 1909. Joseph Judd Pennell Photograph Collection. Call Number: RH PH Pennell. Click image to enlarge (redirect to Spencer’s digital collections).
We here at TLDR encourage you to also take part in this important record-keeping process. Take and share a photo of a dog today. Be sure to include names and dates! Here’s hoping some doggy smiles brighten your April Fools’ Day.
Charissa Pincock Archives and Manuscripts Coordinator
I began working as the Ringle Conservation Intern during the fall of 2024, drawn to the position as an art history graduate student with a budding interest in art conservation and passion for collecting antique photographs. Throughout the course of the semester, and the beginning of the spring 2025 semester, I was able to rehouse 2,400 glass plate negatives and contribute to the online database that will be used towards the creation of a future finding aid. Under the guidance of the incredibly kind and knowledgeable conservation staff, such as Whitney Baker, Charissa Pincock, and Kaitlin McGrath, I was able to take my first steps into the world of conservation and archival work, and will look back at this time fondly.
Throughout my time at the Kenneth Spencer Research Library Conservation Lab, I was privileged with the ability of looking into the past through the eyes of Hannah Scott, the Independence, Kansas based photographer and studio owner who operated from the 1910’s into the 1940’s. Each glass plate negative that I carefully removed from their aged and yellowed envelopes showed me a moment frozen in time; a bride on her wedding day with her bouquet cascading to the floor, a baby with a wide, toothless, grin clutching a doll, or an elderly couple still donning the out-of-fashion garb of decades past. I became an undetected observer from a distant time, one who was able to watch children and families grow over the years as they returned time and time again to Hannah’s studio.
As I made my way through the collection I was repeatedly met with glass plates that possessed faint scratches outlining the contours of a face where wrinkles tend to form, or scribbled dots speckling the skin. I continuously wondered what these etchings might be when I came across a plate that had two negatives of the same woman, but on one she was heavily freckled, and in the other, there was not a spot on her skin to be found. On the emulsion side of the plate, her freckles had been meticulously removed one-by-one with a pointed instrument of sorts to render her skin seemingly airbrushed. I instantly recognized that these “scratches” were an example of the pre-digital age method of “photoshopping” photographs, a technique that Hannah would employ to provide her customers with the option of having a perfect portrait to display.
Double portrait glass plate negative. Image on the left is the untouched image of a subject with freckles. Image on the right has been manually retouched. Hannah Scott Collection, Kansas Collection.
I had read about the act of manually retouching glass plate negatives in the Victorian era, where the outer edges of a woman’s mid-section were erased to achieve the desired “wasp-waist” look. However, I thought this was an outlying and rare occurrence, but the fact that almost every plate of Hannah’s bears some evidence of retouching shows how common and pervasive this practice was. Furthermore, there was not a specific demographic of Hannah’s client that received this treatment; men and women of all ages, from infants to seniors, were able to take home a photograph of themselves looking their absolute best. Excess stray hairs, deep set wrinkles from decades of emoting, blemishes, freckles, moles, or an accidental hand or prop in the image were all able to be removed by the dedicated photographer’s technique of building up hair-thin lines to erase the undesired.
Double portrait glass plate negative. Example of stray hair removal. Hannah Scott Collection, Kansas Collection.
After doing some research of my own, I discovered that the practice of manually retouching glass plate negatives had been in place since the 1840s, and involved the use of either a graphite pencil or knife to scratch out or cover up whatever it may be that was preventing the desired image. Such retouching appeared almost invisible, both in the glass plate negative and in the final positive. I was able to see evidence of the retouching only when I viewed the emulsion side of the negative from a certain angle where the light could reflect off the scratches. Such a trick-of-the trade exemplifies how not so different we are today from those who lived almost a hundred years ago, and how certain behaviors, such as the editing of photographed portraits, show a formidable continuity over time. I can almost imagine the scene appearing in front of me; Hannah in her studio hunched over a negative, surrounded by various tools and instruments, a soft, rhythmic, scratching noise permeates the air as she works on perfecting her customer’s portrait, the hours ticking by, a radio playing a vintage tune hums in the background, unknowingly creating the plate that would end up in my very hands all these years later.
Manual retouching on the emulsion side of a glass plate negative. Hannah Scott Collection, Kansas Collection.
Manual retouching on the emulsion side of a glass plate negative. Hannah Scott Collection, Kansas Collection.
