Boston
Aahhh, Boston! First sights let me know I’m really here.
I’ve come to work–one day at Boston University’s Howard Gotlieb Center and two days at the Boston Public Library. I can play later.
Howard Gotlieb Archival Research Center
I snap quick photos of Boston-ish sights on my way to the archives,
but the rest of my day looks like this:
Thrilling, I know… No, actually. Great stuff. I hold letters written by Isaac Azimov, Robert Frost, Albert Einstein, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. I copy letters by my subjects: Emilie Loring, Sara Ware Bassett, and Clara Endicott Sears–“Flappers Row.”
Reading these old files, I’m privy to Boston Authors Club (BAC) business, behind-the-scenes planning and the occasional caustic comment. One BAC newsletter makes me laugh. The members “listened with delighted interest to the alibis for non-attendance of several members in good standing…”
In the same issue is this ray of hope:
“Noted authors, whose works have substance, sometimes are buried by the passage of years, and newer books…
BAC Bulletin, vol XXXV, no. 5
But every now and then they make a comeback.”
Boston Public Library
Before visiting Special Collections at the Boston Public Library, I take a quick detour to the second floor to visit Happy Landings. I’m still tickled to know that my book is there. Then on to a glass elevator that takes me to the third floor and my purpose for the day.
Danger in the Archives?
Overnight, I received a notice from the library:
“Developing research has found that historical practices used in the production of paper, ink, bindings, or other components of collections items can often contain potential health risks, particularly heavy metals. The item you are currently requesting, Boston Authors Club Records: minutes and reports, has either tested positive or is likely to contain arsenical material. Due to the increased risks in handling arsenical materials, we wanted to ensure you were aware in advance of the increased risks as well as the safety precautions we can advise… Heavy metals are not airborne and do not absorb into skin. The potential risk comes from ingesting the arsenic by touching your eyes or mouth…”
I just finished a murder mystery in which the murder weapon was old wallpaper with arsenic in it, but this isn’t fiction.
Further research informed me that green pigments were most likely to contain arsenic, but reds, yellows, and even washes used to treat printed pages of text might have contained arsenic that remains in the fibers today. Nineteenth-century printings are most under suspicion, but before we get too comfortable with just covering our oldest books with mylar, these arsenical practices continued in some places well into the 1950s.
I wish there were a litmus-type test for dangerous heavy metals, a swab you could pass across old books and documents that would change color in the presence of harmful substances. Until then, old collections may be perfectly safe or inherently dangerous, and we won’t truly know. The library had wipes designed to remove heavy metals from one’s hands; at home, hand washing after handling old collections is a good idea.
I wear gloves as I read, remembering the last time I handled these same papers, with no concern or protection. And isn’t it always the case, that as soon as you’re told not to touch your face, your nose begins to itch?
Flappers Row
I’ve always wished I could do more with the friendships between Emilie Loring, Sara Ware Bassett, and Clara Endicott Sears. I don’t know if it’s an article, a book, a short story, or a screenplay, but those three women deserve a bigger stage. Emilie is great on her own, but I’m dying to see her in action with her longtime friends.
The first step is to see if my instinct is right, that there’s really enough story there. I laugh out loud several times as I read through Sara Ware’s papers, so I think the chances are pretty good.
Beautiful Constants
I depart the library through the original, east entrance. The tiled ceiling, grand staircase, and guarding lions are its most iconic features, but as I leave today, I notice supporting details–quotes at the doorways that I often pass by, the luminous quality of the warm marble that forms the staircase, the “contained yet still wide open” feeling of the center courtyard. I hope you never visit Boston without coming here.
Boston Athenaeum
Since I first learned about it, I’ve wanted to reenact Emilie’s morning writing routine: breakfast, walk to the Athenaeum, write from 10:00 to 2:00, meet with others for tea and conversation afterwards.
I take the Red Line to Charles/MGH and walk down Charles Street to Chestnut. As I pass West Cedar, I imagine Sara Ware Bassett coming up the walk. I walk east to Emilie’s home at 25 Chestnut and continue on to Walnut and Beacon Street.
I know that Emilie enjoyed a hearty breakfast, but I stop in for a chocolate croissant and latté and call it good.
Like the Boston Public Library, the Athenaeum has undergone a significant addition and renovation. The iconic, red entry doors now have longer glass panels, and the dark, entry checkpoint has been replaced by a light-filled greeting space, welcome desk, and gift shop.
The Boston Athenaeum is a membership library, and like all libraries, it’s had to find new ways to meet its budget. An annual membership has climbed from $200 to $500, but a new, daily rate is now an option: $40 for full access to all of the floors and in-library use of all materials. That’s a boon for out-of-towners like myself.
This is such a beautiful library, as much for the art as for the books. Happy Landings is shelved in an alcove of biography flanked by busts on pedestals. I hold my head a little higher as I head for the fifth floor. I imagine that Emilie felt this way, too, seeing her books in the library.
The old elevator with its clock-hand dial is no more. In its place is a modern, stainless-steel and digital model.
The Fifth Floor
But some things remain as they have ever been, and as I step from the elevator, this portrait of Mary Peters (Forbes) Fay lets me know that they are serious here on the fifth floor.
“Silence.”
She looks like she means it.
I look around the room, seven alcoves on each side, divided by stairways to upper levels of books, each guarded by the bust of someone quite serious. I wonder who they are.
Verifying its view of the Park Street Church, I seat myself in “Emilie’s” alcove. For the next four hours, I will write.
Before I came, I wondered if I would get restless or be distracted, but it’s easier than that.
“The gods provide the thread once the web is started.” (Uncharted Seas)
I simply begin and keep going. I toy a moment with the idea of writing my own novel, and that may yet be the direction I’m headed, but first, I write about the magic of visiting the places where someone we admire has been.
On a basic level, it makes a connection. They were here, seeing these things and doing this, and now I’m here, seeing these things and doing this. We have this place in common.
The more of their places we visit, the more of their experiences we share. No, it’s not the same one hundred years later, but if you’re lucky, enough is there that your person would have known it right away, despite the changes.
Since I first heard that Emilie Loring wrote daily in this very place, I’ve wanted to have this experience. Next time, I’ll invite some of my writer friends to come along, so we can have tea together afterwards, but I’m doing the most important part this time.
I write and write, and when four hours have passed, I smile as I go down the elevator, buy myself a little souvenir, and exit to the busy streets of Boston.
Save the Date: Emilie Loring Tea
It’s become a tradition to hold our Emilie Loring Tea on Emilie’s birthday, September 5th. Let’s plan on that again this year, and I’ll post your photos and stories starting that evening and continuing through the weekend. Full invitation to follow.
Zoom!
Thanks to all who expressed interest in having a Zoom gathering to discuss Emilie Loring and her works. I will create an invitation list and provide the link a few days ahead of time. Right now, I’m targeting October 7th, 2:00 EST/1:00 CST/11:00 PST.
If you haven’t responded yet and want to be included, please write to me at contact@pattibender.com .
The Emilie Loring Collection 