#adventuresinarchives

“What we got here is- failure to communicate”: Literally. “Some bloggers just can’t be reached...”

I have no doubt you have been eagerly searching for my latest post. Unfortunately, typing has proved slightly trickier in the last few weeks...

It doesn’t look much, but one fractured socket in the thumb, as painful as it sounds my friends! Teaching rugby players the world over that tackling is an art form I am yet to master. Thankfully, I have FINALLY managed to take the support off, which allows me type. Very poorly. But type all the same. (Imagine a crab on a keyboard.) 

Lets get on with the show and talk about [Echo effect] ADVENTUREINARCHIVES [hashtag on mac still not functioning] ... and my amazing week in August, involving a particularly interesting individual named Sam Hanna. 

In the most basic way, Sam Hanna was a man with a camera. He was an inventor and a visionary. Born in Burnley, Sam took his camera about and started filming people simply going about their daily lives. But it is that which is so extraordinary! Ordinary lives is something history tends to forget about, to our great shame. Sam wouldn’t let history forget. He filmed everything from a match between Burnley and the Busby Babes (little knowing how poignant that image would become) and capturing traditional sports and craftsmen at work. Things that seemed so ordinary, but he knew wouldn’t last forever and once lost were irretrievable. He saw his films as an educational resource, and battled tirelessly with authorities against the stereotype that films could only be used as entertainment. [Remind you of someone!] 

But how is this related to Miss Rachel...

Our day in the archive began with two entertaining letters from Sam Hanna. They were certainly a fun read. In his later years the national significance of Sam’s films was recognised. In the kindest way, how can I put this, he knew you knew the importance of his films. So the letter, addressed to the then director of the collection, goes into great detail to describe his close friendship with Miss Rachel. Which was extremely lucky for me, because now I know about his close friendship with Miss Rachel. This kind of, ‘on the nose explanation’ in archiving and research is rare. I wish it wasn’t as rare for obvious reasons!! The letter detailed Sam and his wife’s invitations to tea at Gawthorpe, his attendance family Christening and events. How Miss Rachel still lived in his films...

Miss Rachel featured in the films!!!!... [Pause for dramatic effect]

Cue immediate search for Sam Hanna’s films, had they been deposited anywhere? Surely they couldn’t have been lost? Were sold to an American group, split up? 

To my joy, I found that Sam Hanna’s films were together and deposited at the North West Film Archive. Even more exciting, some had been made available online. While I didn’t expect much, not letting my hopes rise too high, I searched the website. And found Miss Rachel on film... 

She was watching a dig at a Bronze Age site in Mereclough. Practically jumping through the screen with her enthusiasm, so interested in the finds, curious at what they were searching for. It wasn’t long before she was in the trench itself, scraping away, much to the surprise of the men who frantically scrambled to put a coat down for her sit on. It seem the tool was a little clumsy for experienced gardener so Miss Rachel popped her handbag on her knee and took out a knife. After all, a Guide is always prepared. The office was brought to a stand still with the short black-and-white silent film. We had hoped for a glance of Miss Rachel, I secretly feared I wouldn’t recognise her. But she was there, right there in front of us and she was everything we thought she would be. You knew her instantly, smiling, beaming grin and twinkling eyes - she practically galloped into the trench and the shock of the men tickled us no end. 

I was swiftly dispatched on a road trip to Manchester, this time my geography skills were on point! [See Casino Royal Mail] My Task: Identify Miss Rachel on any other films. And I did, but that is for another blog post...

From my time here at the MAH, I have explored several aspects of the collection of tasks that make up the role of a curator. For the making of the exhibit Dear Jerry, I gained my first experience in the world of archives, particularly the archives of UCSC. With the guidance of our Curator of Exhibitions Justin Hoover, I was able to get a firsthand look at how archives are categorized and to experience the process of selecting individual pieces for a show. 

The technical definition of archive reads as “an accumulation of historical records, or the physical place they are located. They contain primary source documents that have accumulated over the course of an individual or organization's lifetime, and are kept to show the function of that person or organization”. For my particular trip through the UCSC archives, I researched an organization recognized as an iconic symbol and catalyst of counter culture in the 20th century: The Grateful Dead.

The UCSC Grateful Dead Archives are unique in  that they house the memorabilia placed upon Jerry Garcia’s Memorial Site in Golden Gate Park after his death on August 9, 1995. From personal artwork, to letters, trinkets and thousands of fan decorated envelopes, the archive is a testament to not just the influence of The Grateful Dead, but to the fans. While carefully filing through boxes of relics and letters meticulously categorized and organized, I was reminded that the “function of an organization” is often not solely the organization itself, but the community that surrounds it, that helped sustain and grow with it. The fans, the community of Dead Heads, are what turned a jam band into a legacy that spans generations.