Friday, August 14, 2015
Zines: tiny, usually self-published, heavily illustrated, pamphlet-books that explore issues of identity, politics and labor. It's a "magazine" without the "maga," according to one of the zines in our collection. A lot of people come to Rauner to see our gold-edged, leather-covered books, written and read by the rich and famous--don't get me wrong, I love those too--but zines are the antidote for too much gilt. We have a selection of zines from the early 2000s that cover some of the following topics: black punk rockers, queer hookup culture, female fishermen in Alaska, a strike in a Tyson chicken slaughtering factory, and the situation of Israel and Palestine. Most of these are black and white, made on photocopiers and distributed for a few dollars an issue.
Our zines are like confessions, whispered embraces about cultures that some of us belong to, or privileged views into identities we don't share. For example, Shotgun Seamstress (No. 2) describes itself as "a zine by and for Black punks, queers, misfits, feminists, artists & musicians, weirdos and the people who support us." An essay by Brontez Purnell, titled "why i will be a riot grrl till the day i fucking die," details Brontez's discovery of Riot Grrl music while a teenage in small-town Alabama--"THIS WAS WHAT MY LIFE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE." The essays, interviews and graphic work in Shotgun Seamstress create a tiny capsule of Black punk culture.
Some zines are almost indescribable. A tiny zine (No Snow Here, No. 11), barely four inches square, details the author's struggles with the impact of an abuse relationship, beginning with a demand: "All the times you started to say it then stopped yourself because it was too hard speak now." The rest of the zine dissolves into grainy black and white images, snatches of poetry and prose.
Zines are meant to be held closely and examined, each reference sliding over your head or lodging in your heart, almost like cross-sections of a diary. Come to the Reading Room and settle yourself with our zine collection from the Booklyn Artists Alliance (Rare Book Z286.Z54 B66 2000Z).
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Five years after his graduation from Dartmouth College, Barrett's newspaper work so impressed President Grover Cleveland that he decided to appoint the then-twenty-eight-year-old as minister to Siam. Barrett would subsequently serve as commercial commissioner in Japan, Korea, China, and Australia, followed by jaunts to Mexico, Argentina, and most difficult of all, an appointment as minister to Panama, which had recently seceded from Colombia and was ramping up its construction of the Panama Canal. Barrett so ameliorated the issues between Panama and Colombia, said his Associated Press obituary, that "it was a personal triumph, for only short months before the women of Bogotá had been shearing their tresses to make a rope 'to hang the first Yankee who comes here'."
Barrett moved to Washington D.C. in 1907 to head the Pan-American Union. While there, noted President Theodore Roosevelt, he "developed it from an unimportant dying government bureau into a world-recognized international organization for peace, friendship and commerce." In this capacity, Barrett endeavored to assist his alma mater in any way possible. In early 1917, President Ernest M. Hopkins needed such help.
Dartmouth College at the outbreak of the Great War needed both military equipment and an officer
detailed to campus for its training programs. Both were necessary to accommodate the preponderance of students who wished to train for eventual service. Though necessary, they were understandably scarce in the opening days of the war. Nevertheless, Hopkins placed his complete trust in Barrett, writing to nobody else in Washington on the chance that he may "be in danger of mixing up anything that you may do in this matter."
Barrett immediately set out upon assisting the College’s preparedness efforts. Though he told Hopkins in a telegram immediately that a regular army officer would be "impossible" to provide, he attempted to gain an official endorsement from the War Department for one Captain Porter Chase, former head of a cadet training program in Boston who Hopkins brought up to Hanover to lead Dartmouth’s training programs.
Through his contacts, Barrett succeeded in gaining Chase official recognition. After Hopkins thanked him, Barrett noted in his response "the great pride which all of the Dartmouth Alumni feel in the splendid spirit
which the undergraduates of the old college have shown under the stress and demands of wartimes and conditions." Indeed, stories of Dartmouth students' enthusiastic proclivity for military service had already reached the annals of power in Washington, swelling this particularly influential alumnus with pride for his alma mater.
To read the correspondence between Barrett and Hopkins, come to Rauner and ask to see President Hopkins' presidential papers for the academic year 1916-17 (DP-11, Box 6733, "Military Science"). To learn more about John Barrett 1889, ask for his alumni file.