Kenneth Spencer Research Library

Kenneth Spencer Research Library has many faces working behind the scenes to maintain its collections and provide patrons with access to these materials. William Lawrence “Bill” Mitchell was one of these many faces, working with the Department of Special Collections. He served in various capacities at KU Libraries from 1967 to 1999. Both William and his wife Virginia Jean Mitchell died in March of this year.

William Mitchell was born on June 2, 1932, in Kansas City, Missouri, the son of William M. and Donna L. Mitchell. Before he joined the University of Kansas, Mitchell served in the United States Coast Guard from 1952 to 1956. He received his bachelor’s degree from KU in 1959 and then received his master’s degree in library science from the University of Illinois in 1960.

Mitchell’s work in libraries started before his master’s degree. Joining KU Libraries in 1957 as a student assistant for special collections, Mitchell worked his way through various library positions. He became a cataloger with KU in 1971 and eventually became chief cataloger. Mitchell’s work was well received; he earned membership in Beta Phi Mu, an honor society that recognizes high achievement in library science and librarianship. He was promoted to the rank of Librarian III in 1967, a marker of his distinguished career as a librarian.

Special Collections weren’t Mitchell’s only interest. He often encouraged work with bibliography and advocated for the conservation of unstable library materials. He led several courses on conservation for KU’s Museum Studies program and, on occasion, spoke with history of the book classes. His interests in conservation covered a wide variety of materials, from the proper preservation of textual materials and bindery techniques to film preservation. He often kept interesting paper ephemera he came across – usually from other bookstores or vintage postcards – to preserve the history of his travels and work. Many of these postcards and syllabi can be found in his personal papers collection.

Mitchell’s love of preservation extended beyond KU and into surrounding communities. He consulted with several other libraries in the state, including at Kansas State University, Baker University, Saint Mary College, and the Wichita Public Library. He worked with the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library to save a letter from General Dwight Eisenhower that was sent to a family member. Mitchell presented at several library conferences and attended various conservation group meetings to bring further awareness on the necessity of conservation efforts.

Lawrence, Kansas, also had a special place in Mitchell’s life. He was a vocal historical building advocate, writing many letters to the Lawrence Journal-World with his concerns for historic Lawrence buildings regarding new proposed commercial developments. He wrote to the Lawrence Preservation Alliance and worked alongside the organization to protect a historic livery stable that was threatened by commercial development. But he was perhaps the most interested in preserving the history of West Hills, a neighborhood northwest of the University of Kansas campus. Many of his writings surround this neighborhood, from notes on traffic to rezoning laws allowing commercial enterprises to develop in the West Hills neighborhood.

Mitchell was not the only Mitchell with high accomplishments; his wife Jean was a notable quilter and one of her quilts, “Bill Willie’s Whirlygig Factotum,” documents Mitchell’s work and life. Her quilts were once exhibited at the Helen Foresman Spencer Museum of Art, and the exhibit was digitally archived. 

William Mitchell retired from Spencer Research Library in 1999, though the Mitchells remained in Lawrence after retirement. Both Bill and Jean Mitchell supported Kenneth Spencer Research Library and the Helen Foresman Spencer Museum of Art; William’s papers were donated to the library in 2013, and Jean’s quilts and textiles are housed at the museum. Mitchells’ legacy continues on with The Bibliographical Society of America’s William L. Mitchell Award, given to researchers whose research focuses on eighteenth century English or English colonial periodicals.

Molly James
Manuscripts Processor

Check the blog each Friday for a new “That’s Distinctive!” post. I created the series because I genuinely believe there is something in our collections for everyone, whether you’re writing a paper or just want to have a look. “That’s Distinctive!” will provide a more lighthearted glimpse into the diverse and unique materials at Spencer – including items that many people may not realize the library holds. If you have suggested topics for a future item feature or questions about the collections, feel free to leave a comment at the bottom of this page.

While it is technically no longer October, Halloween was earlier this week on Tuesday, so it only feels right to share one last “spooky” item. This week I have chosen to highlight a timeless classic: Grimm’s Fairy Tales by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, better known as the Brothers Grimm. Born in the 1780s, the Grimm Brothers published the first edition of their Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children’s and Household Tales) in 1812. As scholar Jack Zipes explains, “between 1812 and 1857, seven editions of their tales appeared, each one different from the last, until the final, best-known version barely resembled the first.” Spencer Research Library holds many different editions, translations, and adaptations of the Grimm Brothers’ tales, including this edition from 1917 that contains illustrations and decorations by Louis Rhead. With their “stories and tales of elves, goblins, and fairies,” the brothers have captivated the minds of readers for centuries.

To learn more about how the Grimm Brothers collected, recorded, and popularized folk tales, read Jack Zipes’ article “How the Grimm Brothers Saved the Fairy Tale” in Humanities, the magazine of the National Endowment for the Humanities, or explore his book Grimm Legacies: The Magic Spell of the Grimms’ Folk and Fairy Tales (2015).

Tiffany McIntosh
Public Services

Happy Halloween all you screechers, screamers, and hollerers! We’ve also been celebrating over here at Kenneth Spencer Research Library in the best we know how: combing the KU Libraries online catalog and finding what cursed history we can find. We asked our student workers to recommend their picks for items that best represent the spirit of Halloween. They went beyond the safety of the Reading Room and braved the stacks to bring us these unsettling tomes and relics, but not everything is what it seems. Here are a few of our favorites!

Our very first recommendation comes from the Centron Corporation, a film production company founded right here in Lawrence, Kansas. Perhaps best known for their work in educational films, the company also had a hand in the cult classic horror film Carnival of Souls. Elly Masteller found this lovely portrait in the Centron Corporation records collection. This cheerful gentleman was used in a film to help encourage literacy and creative writing among children. Remember kids, he can’t get you if your nose is in a book!

Kathryn Sauder sent in our next recommendation, another artifact, but this time from the Thomas Woodson Poor papers. Poor was an Olympic high jumper who competed for the University of Kansas from 1921 to 1925 and placed fourth in the high jump at the 1924 Summer Olympics in Paris, France. Poor is also known for his lifelong crusade in helping children receive the polio vaccine after the tragic death of his daughter, Melinda Sue, from polio. One of the toys he used to do so was this monkey puppet, and while the puppet may look demonic, it helped save lives! Absolutely heartwarming, not chilling, but perhaps maybe do not look into its eyes for too long.

Literary giant Samuel Taylor Coleridge brings us our next spooky item, recommended by Nile Russo: a copy of The Devil’s Walk, or alternatively titled The Devil’s Thoughts. The Devil cuts a dapper shape as he gets himself dressed in his Sunday’s best for a walk around the town. In this poem, the Devil offers commentary about passersby, questioning perhaps if mankind might be the scariest creature of all.

Molly Leonard recommended perhaps the most soul-wrenching item among our recommendations this year: a copy of Historie des diables de Loudun. This is a book about the Loudun possessions, a piece of history about an Ursuline convent being taken over by unusual behavior and visions attributed to demonic possession. In the end, through the intervention of Cardinal Richelieu, a local priest and decrier of Richelieu’s policies named Urbain Grandier was tried and executed for witchcraft in connection with the possessions. Again, and we can’t reiterate this enough, mankind might just be the scariest monster of all.

And finally, Ian Strasma reminds us that Halloween isn’t only about creepy clowns, puppets and possessions, and dashingly dressed demons with this recommendation: a black cat found lurking in the Ronald Johnson collection (literary estate papers). The cat may be cute, but be careful that you do not cross him!

Best of luck out there as you begin finishing up semester and don’t be afraid to check out the many – completely safe, we promise – collections here at Kenneth Spencer Research Library!

Charissa Pincock
Processing Archivist

Check the blog each Friday for a new “That’s Distinctive!” post. I created the series because I genuinely believe there is something in our collections for everyone, whether you’re writing a paper or just want to have a look. “That’s Distinctive!” will provide a more lighthearted glimpse into the diverse and unique materials at Spencer – including items that many people may not realize the library holds. If you have suggested topics for a future item feature or questions about the collections, feel free to leave a comment at the bottom of this page.

To continue our spooky journey through Spencer’s collections, this week I share Samhain or “All Hallowe’en.”: A Romantic Irish Cantata. As noted in the Concise Oxford Companion to Irish Literature, “Samhain had an important place in Celtic mythology as a time when the normal order is suspended to allow free passage between the natural and supernatural worlds.” As defined by Merriam-Webster, a cantata is “a composition for one or more voices usually comprising solos, duets, recitatives, and choruses and sung to an instrumental accompaniment.” This particular cantata was written and composed in 1902 expressly for the Dublin Musical Festival, or Feis Ceoil. Established in 1897, “Feis Ceoil Association promotes excellence in the learning and performance of music across all ages, levels and disciplines…Today, Feis Ceoil is an event of major significance in the development of musical talent in Ireland.” The festival now comprises 180 competitions with a diverse range of ages from seven years old and up.

Dr. Annie Patterson (1868-1934), who wrote the cantata, “composed sacred and secular cantatas, orchestral works and songs based on Irish themes. She also wrote poetry, essays, short stories as well as professional articles and books on music.” Working with Rev. Houston Collisson – the cantata’s composer – and others, Patterson co-founded the Feis Ceoil in 1897 as part of the broader Gaelic revival in Ireland.

No matter what you believe or how you celebrate, I wish everyone a safe and very happy Halloween! Next week we will share one last item in the spirit of October before returning to regular postings.

Tiffany McIntosh
Public Services

The letters of Guy Hatfield are a collection of 50 letters written by a traveling salesman to his wife, Nell, living in Kansas City, Missouri. He made his living traveling throughout the Midwestern United States. His letters document his travels between Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma Territory, Colorado, Missouri, and Illinois, all in the hopes of making a quick buck. Though little is known about Guy Hatfield’s life outside of the collection of letters here at Spencer Library, he is associated as a contemporary of the better-known George B. McClellan, a traveling medicine man and Wild West showman. [i]

Guy’s letters to his wife, Nell, give a window into his business life as a traveling salesman. Rarely was business good. Inclement weather would keep the townspeople in their homes and slow business. Sometimes “biz” (as Guy called it) in company towns was centered around payday; setting up shop at the right time was key. Risk of illness and outbreak of the “grip” (also written as grippe, an old-fashioned term for the flu) could also be a detriment to business.

The letters give a wealth of information beyond Guy’s correspondence to his wife. His travels, most often by train, show the rail network in the Midwest and Great Plains around 1890. The stationery and envelopes, bearing the names and proprietors of the hotels Guy stayed at, give us a list of the hotels and innkeepers that served travelers as they crisscrossed the country.

So what exactly did Guy Hatfield sell? His letters mention glasses and figurines (mislaid and broken by the railroad company), wigs, a mummy, a gorilla, a skeleton (in one letter, a gorilla skeleton), and medicine (though he does not say if it is for resale or personal use). In one of his letters, he mentions his attempts to sell his whole museum to one or more interested parties in Wichita, but bad luck seemed to prevent the sale from going through. He blames an associate named Converse, who he calls a “dead rank Jonah.”

Whatever it was Hatfield was trying to sell, few were interested in buying. With a few exceptions, the common thread through the letters are complaints of low revenue, high expenses, and excuses for why he cannot yet come home. The letters begin in October 1889 in Sioux City, Iowa, where Guy complains about losing lots of money. In the last letter, dated February 25, 1892, he is staying in Pittsburg, Kansas, a couple days longer with hopes of making a few dollars. As to his association with the famous George McClellan, a letter from January 22, 1891, suggests the nature of their friendship: “George has not answered any of my letters at all nor sent me a cent[.]”

Beyond these three years of flourishing (if we can call it that), little is known about Guy Hatfield or his wife Nell. The Kansas City addresses on the envelopes no longer exist. A search of digitized newspapers reveals two stories of a Guy Hatfield, who may or may not be the same as our ambitious and unlucky letter-writer. A newspaper report in the Kansas City Journal from January 1898 tells the story of a salesman of the same name attempting suicide in a saloon; a report from the Topeka State Journal from July of the same year reports on the impending execution of a soldier bearing the same name, who, “in a drunken row soon after pay day,” stabbed another soldier to death.

When we think of archival collections, we often give too much credit to the movers and shakers of history. It makes sense that the Kansas Collection at KU’s Spencer Library would hold the personal and professional papers of governors, senators, and other pillars of the civic community. But there is much to learn about the world of the past in collections like the letters of Guy Hatfield. He lived during an era we like to call the Gilded Age. But through his own words, we are reminded that to many, it may not have been so gilded.

Phil Cunningham
Kansas Collection Curator

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[i] Finch, L. Boyd. “Doctor Diamond Dick: Leavenworth’s Flamboyant Medicine Man.” Kansas History: A Journal of the Central Plains 26 (Spring 2003): 2-13. Available online at https://www.kshs.org/publicat/history/2003spring_finch.pdf.