Carlton E. Watkins (1829-1916)

Yosemite Valley from Inspiration Point.1865-66.

Vernal and Nevada Fall, Yosemite Valley. ca. 1865-66.
Vernal and Nevada Fall. Yosemite Valley. ca. 1865-66.
Mount Broderick and Nevada Fall, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Cathedral Rocks, Yosemite. 2600 ft. ca. 1865-66.
Pohono, the Bridal Veil, Yosemite, Ca. ca. 1865-66.
View up the Yosemite Valley. ca. 1865-1866.
Tasavac, the Half-Dome, Yosemite. 5000 ft. ca. 1865-66.
Merced River at Clarks, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Cathedral Rocks, Yosemite. 2500 ft. ca. 1865-66.
Lower Yosemite Fall, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Upper Yosemite Fall, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Tutocanula. El Capitan, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Mirror Lake, Yosemite. ca. 1865-66.
Tutocanuba, El Capitan, Yosemite. 3600 ft. ca. 1865-66.

Pohono, the Bridal Veil Fall, Yosemite. 900 ft. Ca. 1865-66.

[I acquired these prints in Cambridge. MA in the early 1970s. I didn’t bother to identify the maker until the 1990s. I just finished compiling the bibliography in 2024. I do not pretend to be a Watkins expert, but I think that these prints most resemble those found in the Watkins’ 1865 album now in the Syracuse University Library. See: Doherty, Amy S., “Carleton E. Watkins, Photographer: 1829 ‑ 1916.” The Courier: Syracuse University Library Associates 15:4 (1978): 3‑20, plus cover. 5 b & w. WSJ]

                          WATKINS, CARLETON EUGENE. (1829-1916) BIBLIOGRAPHY.

                                                 By William S. Johnson.
                                      (Please credit the blog if you use this bibliography.)
                                                   (POSTED March 2024)
[I have compiled and now posted this bibliography to test my belief that current technologies have made it possible to develop a very flexible research tool that can permit a scholar to access a wider range of information and provide a more nuanced look into the functioning of any particular era in the history of photography. This bibliography is composed from the Nineteenth-Century Photography. An Annotated Bibliography 1839-1879, by William S. Johnson. Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1990, to which I’ve added a key-word search of my current bibliographic project of indexing more than 800 periodical titles published in the USA and England between 1835 and 1869. After 1869 additional references were drawn from other random projects or sources that I had on hand and a key-word literature search of the internet. Not every important source is on the internet and it should not be considered an exhaustive survey of the literature published after that date. WSJ]

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Carleton E. Watkins began his long and extraordinary photographic career in 1854, in one of Robert Vance’s daguerreotype galleries in California. Watkins was born and grew up in Oneonta, New York, then moved in 1851, at age 22, to California. Watkins worked as a carpenter and clerk first in Sacramento, then in San Francisco before he became a temporary replacement for an employee who had abruptly left one of Vance’s branch studios. Given hasty instructions in the complicated daguerreotype process and asked to stall the patrons for a week until a regular “operator” could be found, Watkins quickly turned into a competent, then excellent, photographer. Watkins spent the next few years working for Vance and in other galleries making daguerreotype and then ambrotype portraits.
By 1856 photographers were experimenting with the new wet collodion process, which made taking landscape views a much more feasible, practical and economical activity. Carleton Watkins learned the new process and by 1858 was using it to photograph views to provide visual documentation for a court settlement of land disputes. For several years Watkins made a reasonable living taking these kinds of documents for litigants, at the same time perfecting his “field” skills and establishing his reputation as a field photographer.
By 1861 he had his own studio, but he specialized in views and travelled throughout California. Made his first trip to Yosemite in 1861 and returned many times in the 1860s. In 1867 Watkins photographed the Oregon and Columbia River region. He opened the Yosemite Art Gallery in 1867.
Attribution for many 19th century photographs is very difficult, as common practice was for gallery owners to attach their name (their brand) to photos made by employees or associates or even to negatives sold to them by other photographers. (Or, occasionally, as with Mathew Brady, even though illegally copying them.) In the late 1860s Watkins acquired the negatives of about 340 stereo views of the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad, which had been made by Alfred A. Hart, a Sacramento photographer, and Watkins then reissued the stereos under his own name. * [* See Alfred A. Hart post on this website.]  Watkins also obtained a small series of stereoscopic negatives relating to the Modoc War made by Louis Heller, a photographer of Fort Jones, California, and issued those under his own name as well. Later, I. W. Taber acquired Watkins’ own early negatives of Yosemite when Watkins went bankrupt in 1874 and Taber then printed them under his own name throughout the 1870s and 1880s.
Watkins reopened his practice and rephotographed Yosemite. There must have been some irony present when both photographers separately displayed Yosemite photographs at various international exhibitions.
One way of building a reputation was by exhibiting at the various County or State Fairs or even at the international exhibitions patterned after famous World’s Fair in London in 1851. Watkins started exhibiting at the California State Fairs, but he soon began submitting his photographs to the large international expositions. A small sample of his work was submitted to the Exposition in London in 1862, arriving too late to be officially “listed” but attracting wide critical notice when they were hung. He then exhibited in the Universal Exposition at Paris in 1867, in Vienna in 1873, and in the United States Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia in 1876. Watkins also submitted work to the leading photographic magazines of the day. The strength of his work, seen by thousands through these venues, built Watkin’s a rare international reputation, but the labor and time and expense involved for an individual – not a corporate gallery – may have proved costly.
Commissioned to photograph the estate of Thurlow Lodge in Menlo Park from 1872 to 1874, Watkins produced a large body of work on this subject. For the next twenty years Watkins would travel all over the American West, taking tens of thousands of photographs -most of them good, serviceable documents of the Western landscape and the changes that it was undergoing -and a surprising number of them moving into the realm of creative expression. Watkins continued to photograph into the 1890s, but age and ill health slowed him down. His studio and its contents were completely destroyed in the San Francisco earthquake of 1906, and Watkins was severely affected by the loss of his work. He died, blind and incapacitated, in 1916.

BOOKS

1863

Langley, Henry G. The San Francisco Directory for the Year Commencing October, 1863: Embracing a General Directory of Residents And Business Directory: Also, a Directory of Streets, Public Offices, Etc., and a New Map of the City and County; Together With The Consolidation Act and its Amendments; the Municipal Government; Societies and Organizations, and a great Variety of Useful and Statistical Information, Exhibiting at a Glance the Progress and Present Condition of the City. “Sixth Year of Publication.” San Francisco: Towne & Bacon, Book and Job Printers, 1863. 592 p.; ill., map. 23 cm.
[“San Francisco [W] Directory.”
Watkins, Carleton E. photographer 649 Clay (p.366)]
(Etc., etc.)
San Francisco Business Directory.
Daguerreian, Ambrotype, and Photographic Materials.
Bradley H. W. 622 Clay
Shew W. 423 Montgomery
Daguerreians.
Bayley W. F. 622 Kearny
Bryan & Johnston, 611 Clay
Dyer Wm. D. 612 Clay
Edouart A. 634 Washington
Hamilton & Shew, 417 Montgomery
Higgins T. J. 659 Clay
Hills R. 683 Market
Hord J. R. 11 Third
Johnson G. H. 619 Clay
McGinn A. Miss, 234 Kearny
Selleck S. 413½ Montgomery
SHEW W. 423 Montgomery (see advertisement, p. 530)
Silva J. T. 703 Clay
(Etc., etc.)
[See Photographic Galleries.] (p. 410)
Photographic Galleries.
Bradley & Rulofson, Vance’s, 429 Mont
Gibbons H. 6 Montgomery
Suckert J. 306 Dupont
Bryan & Johnston, 611 Clay
Bush H. 9 Post
DYER W. D. 612 Clav (see adv. p. 561)
Edouart A. 634 Washington
Hamilton & Shew, 417 Montgomery
Higgins T. J. 659 Clay
Johnson G. H. 645 and 649 Clay
Selleck S. 415 Montgomery
SHEW W. 423 and 425 Montgomery
(see advertisement p. 530)
Silva T. J. 703 Ciay
(See Daguerreians.) (p. 429)

Watkins, Carleton E. Yo‑Semite Valley: Photographic Views of the Falls and Valley of Yo‑Semite in Mariposa County, California. San Francisco, CA: Bartling & Kimball, 1863 [1866?] n. p. 65 l. of plates. 65 b & w. [Album, of original photographs, bound by the publisher. Syracuse Univ. Library.]

Whitney, J. D. Notice of the Two Masses of Meteoric Iron Brought from Tucson To San Francisco, 1862 and 1863. San Francisco: Printed by Towne & Bacon, Book and Job Printers, No. 636 Clay Street, opposite Leidesdorfl. 1863. 12 p. 8 vo.
[“Head Quarters Column from California,
Tucson, Arizona, June 30th, 1862.
To General George Wright, U. S. Army,
Commander Dep. of the Pacific, San Francisco, Cal.
My dear General:—Soon after my arrival at this place I sent by a train to Port Yuma, to be shipped to your address at San Francisco, a very large and beautiful Aerolite, which I found here and which I had heard and read of for many years. In Bartleit’s Explorations, vol. 2, page 297, it is described as follows: “In the afternoon,” July 18th, 1853, “I called to take leave of General Blanco, and at the same time examine a remarkable meteorite, which is used for an anvil in a blacksmith’s shop. This mass resembles native iron, and weighs about six hundred pounds. Its greatest length is five feet. Its exterior is quite smooth, while the lower part which projects from the larger leg is very jagged and rough. It was found about twenty miles distant on the road towards Tubac and about eight miles from the road.” I desire that you present this aerolite to the City of San Francisco, to be placed upon the Plaza, there to remain for the inspection of the people and for (p. 6) examination by the youth of the city forever. It will be a durable memento of the march of the Column from California. I am, General, sincerely and respectfully, Your friend and servant, James H. Carleton, Brigadier General U. S. A.
Soon after this mass of meteoric iron came into the possession of the city, I obtained permission from the Board of Supervisors to have sawn from it a small piece for analysis and for distribution to a few of the principal public institutions in this country and Europe having collections of aerolites; this has been done, and also a fine photograph of it taken by Mr. C. E. Watkins, of which copies will be forwarded, with the specimens of the mass itself, as convenient opportunity offers….” (p. 7) (Etc., etc.)
“…At present the mass in question lies upon the steps of the Custom House, where it has been most admirably photographed by Mr. Watkins.* [* The mass was shipped on the Panama steamer, which sailed from San Francisco on the 3d of August,] It was said by Mr. Ainsa to weigh 1,600 pounds. The shape of this meteoric mass is very peculiar; and, at first, it would hardly be recognized as the identical specimen figured by Mr. Bartlett at Tucson, especially as this gentleman estimated its weight at 600 pounds only….” (p. 10) (Etc., etc.)
“…The photograph was taken by Mr. Watkins, at my request, partly to be sent abroad as a specimen of the high degree of perfection which has been attained by this gentleman in this department of art, and partly that an exact representation might be secured of this very remarkable body, in case it should be lost or captured on its way to Washington.” (p. 10)]

1865

Across the Continent: A Summer’s Journey to the Rocky Mountains, the Mormons, and the Pacific States, With Speaker Colfax. By Samuel Bowles, Editor of the Springfield (Mass.) Republican. Springfield, Mass.: Samuel Bowles & Company. New York: Hurd & Houghton., 1865. xx, 452 p. front. (folded map) 19 cm.
[“Introductory Letter to the Hon. Schuyler Colfax.”
“…In Natural Wonders and Beauties, as in rare gifts of wealth, the country of our Summer Journey stands out prominent and pre- eminent. Neither the Atlantic States nor Europe offer so much of the marvellous and the beautiful in Nature; offer such strange and rare effects, such combinations of novelty, beauty and majesty,– as were spread before us in our ride Across the Continent, through the mountains, and up and down the valleys. No known river scenery elsewhere can rival that of the Columbia, as it breaks through the Continental mountains; no inland seas charm so keenly as Puget’s Sound; no mountain effects are stranger and more impressive than those the Rocky and the Sierras offer; no atmosphere (p. vii) so fine and exhilarating, so strange and so compensating as California’s; no forests so stately and so inexhaustible as those of Washington; no trees so majestic and so beautiful as the Sequoia Gigantea;-aye, and no Vision of Apocalypse so grand, so full of awe, so full of elevation, as the Yosemite Valley! Does not that vision, that week under the shadows of those wonderful rocks,-by the trickle and the roll of those marvelous water-falls,-stand out before all other sights, all other memories of this summer, crowded as it is with various novelty and beauty? The world may well be challenged to match, in single sweep of eye, such impressive natural scenery as this. Professor Whitney tells us that higher domes of rock and deeper chasms are scattered along the Sierras, farther down the range; but he also testifies that, in combination and in detail, in variety and majesty and beauty of rock formations, and in accompanying water-falls, there is no rival to, no second Yosemite. You will be interested in Professor Whitney’s more detailed account of the Valley, and his suggestions as to its creation, which are appended to my Letters. They are from his just issued second volume of the Reports of the Geological Survey of California, which, if suffered to be completed as begun, will present a complete scientific account, in aggregate and in detail, of that wonderful State, and be the guide to all her future development.
The Yosemite Valley ought to be more known in the East, also, through the marvelous photographs of Mr. Watkins of San Francisco; he has made a specialty of these views, and, besides producing the finest photographs of scenery that I know of anywhere, he gives to those who see them very im- pressive ideas of the distinctive features of this really wonderful valley….” (p. viii) (Etc, etc.)

Geological Survey of California. Geology. Volume I. Report of Progress and Synopsis of the Field-Work, from 1860 to 1864. [Sacramento:] Published by Authority of the Legislature of California. 1865. xviii, 498 p.: ill., plates. [Illustrations are 9 full-page, tipped-in, “plates,” and 81 “figures,” which are illustrations withIn the body of the texts. All are engravings, some obviously after photographs, but not necessarily credited. WSJ]
“…The valley is a nearly level area, about eight miles in length and varying from half a mile to a mile in width. For the lower six miles its course is from northeast to southwest; the upper two miles are nearly at right-angles to this, the angle of the bend being at the spot where the Yosemite Fall comes over the precipice on the north side. Below the expanded portion of the valley, the Merced enters a terribly deep and narrow cañon, which is said to be inaccessible, and which we had no time to explore.
To make the peculiar features of the Yosemite more intelligible to those who have not seen it, or who have not enjoyed, what is next best to the thing itself, the admirable photographs of Mr. C. E. Watkins,* [*These photographs, thirty in number, and twenty-one inches by sixteen in size, are pronounced by all artists to be as near perfection as possible. They are already well known and widely distributed through the Eastern States, and will be more so. The glass stereographs taken in the valley, by Mr. Watkins, are in some respects even more effective than the photographs. All the views of the Yosemite given in this volume are taken from these photographs, by permission.] we give a wood-cut (Fig. 62), representing a portion of both sides of the valley, and which is one of the first near views which the traveller gets of the grander masses, whether he descends by the Coulterville or the Mariposa trail. On the right-hand or south side (the view being taken looking up, or to the northeast), we have the cliffs on the face of which the Bridal Veil Fall is seen. Behind this is a much higher mass, which forms a portion of the Cathedral Rock. On the other side is Tutucanula, or El Capitan, the first of these names being the original Indian appellation for this mighty cliff, and supposed to be either the name of some great chief, or else the word by which their “Great Spirit” or Deity was called, while “El Capitan” is the term by which the first visitors to the valley undertook to translate the aboriginal idea into the Spanish. As the idea of the dimensions and verticality of the walls of the Yosemite may be somewhat less easily taken from the shaded woodcut, a section (Fig. 63) is appended of the valley at this point, on an (p. 408) (Etc., etc.)
“…it is especially fine in the direction of the Obelisk Group of mountains, and it commands the cañon of the south fork of the MercedIllilouette,” as it is called by the Indians. From this point the glacial phenomena, and especially the regular and extensive moraines, of that valley are finely displayed. The profile of the Half Dome, of which more farther on, is best seen from the Sentinel Dome. From near the foot of Sentinel Rock, looking directly across the valley, we have before us, if not the most stupendous feature of the Yosemite, at least the most attractive one, namely the Yosemite Fall. We have endeavored to convey some idea of the grandeur and beauty of this fall, by reproducing (in Plate 2) as well as can be done on the small scale allowable in this volume and on wood, one of Mr. Watkins’ photographs; but it is in vain that we attempt, by any work of art, to do more than give the faintest echo of the impression which this glorious exhibition of nature produces on all who are so fortunate as to see it under favorable circumstances. About the time of full moon, and in the month of May, June, or July, according to the dryness and forwardness of the season, is the time to visit the Yosemite, and to enjoy in their perfection the glories of its numerous water-falls. Those who go later, after the snow has nearly gone from the mountains, see the streams diminished to mere rivulets and threads of water; they feel satisfied with the other attractions of the valley, its stupendous cliffs, domes and cañons, and think that the water-falls are of secondary importance, and that they have lost little by delaying the time of their visit. This is not so; the traveller who has not seen the Yosemite when its streams are full of water has lost, if not the greater part, at least a large portion, of the attractions of the region, for so great a variety of cascades and falls as those which leap into this valley from all sides has, as we may confidently assert, never been seen elsewhere -both the Bridal Veil and the Nevada Fall being unsurpassed in some respects, while the Yosemite Fall is beyond anything known to exist, whether we consider its height or the stupendous character of the surrounding scenery. The Yosemite Fall is formed by a creek of the same name, which heads on the west side of the Mount Hoffmann Group, about twenty miles north of the valley….” (p. 413) (Etc., etc.)
“…The North Dome, on the opposite side of the valley of Tenaya Creek, is another of these rounded masses of granite, of which the concentric structure, already frequently alluded to in this chapter, is very marked. The annexed wood-cut (Fig. 68), engraved by Mr. * [Fig. 68. North Dome-Yosemite Valley.] Andrews from one of Watkins’s photographs, will illustrate both the form of the dome and its structure. It is 3568 feet in elevation above the valley, and is very easy of ascent from the north side. At the angle of the cañon, appearing as a buttress of the North Dome, is the Washington Column, a grand, perpendicular mass of granite, and by its side the Royal Arches, an immense arched cavity formed in the cliff’s by the giving way and sliding down of portions of the rock, the vaulted appearance of the upper part of it producing a very fine effect. Farther up the cañon of Tenaya Creek is a little lake, called Tis (p. 417)
“…and the whole character of the scenery which surrounds it, Mount Broderick alone being an object of which [Fig. 69. Mount Broderick and the Nevada Fall] the fame would be spread world-wide, if it were not placed as it is, in the midst of so many other wonders of nature. There are also grand cascades in the South Fork Cañon, the scenery through the whole of which is little inferior to that of the other portions of the Yosemite; but, amid so many objects of attraction, few visitors find time to examine this cañon, especially as the trail by which it is reached is a rough and difficult one. Judging from Mr. Watkins’s photographs, the views from points along the slopes of the South Fork Cañon must be equal to almost any which can be had in the whole region. In the angle formed by the Merced and the South Fork Canon, and about two miles south-southeast of Mount Broderick, is the high point, called the “South Dome,” and also, of later years, “Mount Starr King.” (p. 419) (Etc., etc.)]
[Fig. 62. Yosemite Valley. (p. 409)
Fig. 63. Section across the Yosemite. “El Capitan” “Bridal Veil” (p. 409)
Fig. 64. Cathedral Rock.” (p. 411)
Fig. 65. Sentinel Rock. (p. 412)
Fig. 66. The Half Dome. Yosemite Valley. (p. 415)
Fig. 67. Section through the Domes. “North Dome Lake Half Dome.” (p. 416)
Fig. 68. “North Dome – Yosemite Valley. (p. 417)
Fig. 69 “Mount Broderick and the Nevada Fall.” (p. 419)
[From Watkins’ photographs.]
[Plate I. Consists of drawings of fossilized sea shells, and is located before p. 481 in: “Appendix B. Description of Fossils from the Auriferous Slates of California.” By F. B. Meek. (p. 477-483)]
Plate II, Before p. 413. Under the Yosemite Fall.
Plate III, p. 415. The Canon of the Merced and the Vernal Fall.
Plate IV, p. 425. The Obelisk Group from Porcupine Flat.
Plate V, p. 427. Upper Tuolumne Valley from Soda Springs, Looking South.
Plate VI, p. 429. “Cathedral Peak Group Upper Tuolumne Valley.”
Plate VIII, Pp. 434.” Crest of the Sierra, Looking East from Above Soda Springs.”
Plate IX, p. 446. “Volcanic Ridges Near Silver Mountain.”
[Plates II and III definitely by Watkins, some others possibly. WSJ]

1866

Watkins, Carleton E. Yo‑Semite Valley: Photographic Views of the Falls and Valley of Yo‑ Semite in Mariposa County, California. San Francisco, CA: Bartling & Kimball, 1863 [1866?] n. p. 65 l. of plates. 65 b & w. [Album, of original photographs, bound by the publisher. Syracuse Univ. Library.]

1867

Hall, Edward H. Appletons’ Hand-Book of American Travel. Containing a Full Description of the Principal Cities, Towns, and Places of Interest: Together with the Routes of Travel and Leading Hotels Throughout the United States and British Provinces. Illustrated With Copious Maps. “Ninth Annual Edition.” New York: D. Appleton & Co., 443 & 445 Broadway. London: Trübner & Co. 1867. 1 v. (various pagings), [9] folded leaves of plates: maps, plans; 29 cm.
[“ “Obligations.”
“Our obligations are due to the entire United States and Canadian Press for their unceasing endeavors to keep us informed of the rapid changes transpiring in their respective localities, as well as for their numerous contributions to local and state history, descriptive sketches, etc., etc. Below will be found a list of authorities referred to in the work.
We are specially indebted to Mr. C. E. Watkins,* [* Views of the Yo-Semite Valley by this clever artist can be obtained in New York of the editor.] and Messrs. Lawrence and Houseworth, of San Francisco, for their fine pictures of scenery in California and on the Pacific coast; to Mr. Edward Vischer, of San Francisco, for his fine collection of drawings in the same region; to Messrs .Savage and Ottinger, of Great Salt Lake City; to Mr. Eugene Piffet, of New Orleans; Mr. Sancier, of Mobile; Mr. Linn, of Chattanooga, and other photographic artists throughout the Union who have kindly furnished us with views of prominent objects of interest in their several localities. We regret that lack of time and space compel us to exclude their contributions from our pages. It is decided to make future issues of the Hand-book uniform in style and appearance with the present work.
For much valuable information contained in the following pages we are indebted to the recently-published Directories of New York, Philadelphia, Boston, New Orleans, Baltimore, Mobile, Cincinnati, Memphis, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, Albany, Milwaukee, Richmond, Va., St. Paul, Virginia City, Nevada, Portland, Oregon, and Austin, Nevada.
We are also under obligations to Mr. A. Gensoul, of San Francisco, for a set of his recently published maps. Thankful to one and all for their valuable assistance, we shall endeavor to merit a continuance of their favors. Authorities Referred To In The Work
Arizona and Sonora, by Sylvester Mowry.
Speeches and Letters of Governor Richard C. McCormick.
North Carolina, Historical Sketches of, by John H. Wheeler.
California Guide, etc., by J. M. Hutchings.” (p. xv.)]

Report of the Commissioner to the Universal Exposition at Paris, 1867.
Notes upon the Universal Exposition at Paris, 1867, by William P. Blake. (pp. 249-347)
Chapter I.
General View of the Paris Exposition of 1867.
The Building.
The general plan and arrangement of the Universal Exposition of eighteen hundred and sixty-seven was the result of the observation and experiences of the former great International Exhibitions at London in eighteen hundred and fifty-one, at Paris in eighteen hundred and fiftyfive and at London in eighteen hundred and sixty-two. In those Exhibitions grand architectural effect were attempted, and large sums were expended in exterior and interior decoration. In the Exhibition building of eighteen hundred and sixty-seven all architectural display was subordinated to the convenience of grouping and display of the various objects contributed. The leading feature of the plan was the division of the space into seven concentric galleries, each one devoted to a particular group or class of objects…. (p. 255)
List of Groups, With the Classes Attached.
Groups. Class.
Group I. — Works of Art.
Paintings in oil 1
Other paintings and drawings 2
Sculpture and dye-Sinking 3
Architectural designs and models 4
Engraving and lithography 5
Group II. — Apparatus and Application of the Liberal Arts.
Printing and books 6
Paper, stationery, binding, painting and drawing materials 7
Applications of drawing and modelling to the common arts 8
Photographic proofs and apparatus 9
Musical instruments 10
Medical and surgical instruments and apparatus 11
Mathematical instruments and apparatus for teaching science 12
Maps and geographical and cosmographical apparatus 13 (p. 258)
The Park.
The visitor to the Exhibition was at once forcibly impressed with the importance and extreme interest of the Park as part of the Exhibition. It was most tastefully laid out with avenues and winding paths, and was adorned with trees, shrubs and flowers, all planted since the ground was first broken for the foundation of the Palace, on what was previously the barren and indurated surface of the Champs de Mars.
“…Alongside of this building there was a pleasing vista over green lawns and parterres of flowers to the American annexe beyond, where could be seen the beautiful locomotive and various agricultural machines. On the left of the avenue was a building for the display of windows of stained and painted glass, to which the art of photography had lent its aid. Portraits and photographs were there reproduced in all the brilliance and permanence of color of stained glass. In continuing a walk toward the entrance of the building, the visitor…” (p. 262)
Distribution of Prizes.
The work of the juries commenced as soon as the Exhibition opened, and the awards were made very soon thereafter, and in many cases before some of the contributions were fairly placed and labelled. The grand ceremony of the distribution of prizes was on the first of July, at the Palace of Industry, the building erected for the Exhibition of eighteen hundred and fifty-five. The recipients of grand prizes and gold medals received them from the hands of the Emperor, in the presence of seventeen thousand spectators, all comfortably seated in that magnificent hall…”
“…The prizes awarded to exhibitors from California were as follows:
State of California* [*The official announcement of this award reads: “Le Gouvernment de California — Céréals.”
As the State of California was not an exhibitor, this destination of the award is apparently the result of misapprehension. The exhibitors of cereals were Mr. D. L. Perkins, Mr. J. W. H. Campbell and Mr. J. D. Peters. The display made by Mr. Perkins included one hundred and twenty varieties of seeds, neatly arranged in glass bottles and labelled, and, together with the photograph, was the most prominent. It is the opinion of the Commissioner that the medal should either be given to Mr. Perkins or to the exhibitors of cereals jointly.] —Cereals. Silver medal.
Dr. J. B. Pigné, San Francisco—Collection of California minerals. Silver medal.
William P. Blake, California—Collection of California minerals. Silver medal. (p. 265)
Mission Woollen Mills, San Francisco—Exhibition of blankets, cloths and flannels. Bronze medal.
C. E. Watkins, San Francisco— Photographs of Yosemite Valley. Bronze medal.
Brown & Level, California—Self-detaching boat tackle. Bronze medal.
Buenavista Vinicultural Society—Sparkling wine. Honorable mention….” (p. 266)
Woods and Products of the Forest.
France.
The forest products and industries of nearly every country were represented in the Exposition, by sections of trees, planks, boards, mouldings, etc., and by collections of the tools used for cutting, hewing and sawing. Of all these collections, that made by France, through the “Administrator of the Forests,” was the most complete, methodical and interesting. It occupied a space about sixty feet in length, in the second gallery, devoted to Group V, and was very tastefully displayed. Sections of all the principal kinds of trees in the Empire were ranged along the wall with the interspaces filled with green moss. Each section of a tree was about six inches thick, and included the bark, so that the whole structure and outer form and appearance of the trunk was clearly shown. Above these, on a table which extended around the room, smaller sections and portions of dressed and worked timber were arranged. with herbaria, photographs and drawings of forest trees. The tools used were grouped above, on the wall, around centre pieces, formed of boar’s heads. In the centre of the room a broad table sustained various models of forests and of sawmills, and of apparatus used in felling and transporting timber. There were also models of the buildings erected for the keepers’ lodges, and of cottages for the laborers. Some of the plans in the relief exhibited the important operations of the administration of forests, such as the replanting of the Alps. A large forest chart upon the wall, of France, showed in the most striking manner the distribution of the wooded parts of the country and the relation which exists between them and the geological constitution of the soil. The whole collection was completed by a series of specimens of the various destructive forest insects.
There was also a series of publications on practical or scientific questions, relating to sylviculture, and a fine collection of photographs of cones and foliage of the various pines and firs….“ (p. 267)
The Forest Products of Canada.
Canada made a very respectable show of its resources in lumber of various kinds. There were sections of the principal trees, with their bark, in great number. They were usually about two feet long, and were super-imposed one upon another, so as to make a base for several columns of square logs, of different woods for building purposes, set up about eight feet apart. These supported above a square timber of yellow pine, fifty feet long and ten feet square. The niches formed by this disposition of the timber were filled with smaller specimens, and by panels of dressed and polished planks of pine, white wood, walnut and birch. The Abbé Brunet, of Quebec, Canada, sent a fine collection of Canadian woods, with herbaria and a series of photographs of trees and of plantations. He made the whole complete and instructive by a printed catalogue of sixty-four pages, which contained a large amount of valuable information upon the trees of Canada. This collection, for its uniformity, neatness and pleasing appearance, was one of the most attractive in the Exhibition, and it received a gold medal. (p. 269)
Suez Canal.
The progress of the great Suez Canal was fully illustrated in a separate building in the Park by a large model, a panorama, photographs, and miscellaneous collections. The model of the Isthmus was a complete miniature representation of the country, with all its elevations and depressions, on a scale of one to five hundred thousand….” (p. 318)
List of Exhibitors of Objects from California at the Paris Exposition.
Names and Articles Exhibited. Group. Class.
MISSION WOOLLEN MILLS, San Francisco, Lazard Fréres,Agents. Four cases of woolen goods, manufactured in California from California wool. IV 30
C. H. HARRISON, San Francisco. Centrifugal pump …. …..
C. E. WATKINS, San Francisco. Series of twenty-eight large photographic views of Yosemite Valley, and two of the Big Trees of the Mariposa Grove II 9
LAWRENCE & HOUSEWORTH, San Francisco. Twenty-six large photographs of Yosemite Valley and of the Great Trees, and three hundred stereoscopic views of different localities in California. II 9
EDWARD VISCHER, San Francisco. One case containing six portfolios of views in California and Washoe. II 9
A. S. HALLIDIE & CO., San Francisco. Samples of wire rope, round
and flat, and iron and copper sash cords of California manufacture. V 40
PACIFIC GLASS WORKS, San Francisco. Specimens of California
made glass bottles. III 16
JOHN D. BOYD, San Francisco. One highly finished ornamental door, made of wood grown in California. III 14
JOHN D. BOYD, San Francisco Specimens of -the wood of the Madrona, or California laurel V 41
JOHN REED, San Francisco. Premium tank lifeboat model, four feet long. VI 66
SAN LORENZO PAPER MILLS Varieties of paper made at the company mills in Santa Cruz, California. …. ….
STANDARD SOAP COMPANY. Specimens of California made soap and washing powders …. …. (p. 336)
D. L. PERKINS, San Francisco and Oakland. Collection of seeds grown in California, and a photograph of California vegetables.
(Donated to the Imperial Garden of Acclimatation.) VII 67
J. W. H. CAMPBELL, San Francisco. One case — about one hundred and twenty pounds — California high mixed wheat.
(Donated to Royal Agricultural Society, England) VII 67
J. D. PETERS, San Joaquin County. One box containing about thirty pounds of wheat VII 67
BUENA VISTA VINICULTURAL SOCIETY (by R. N. Van Brunt, Secretary). Cases of sparkling wine made from grapes grown at the Society’s vineyard, Sonoma County, California, 1865 VII 73
C. H. LE FRANC, New Almaden Vineyard. Four cases of red and white wines made in San José, California. VII 73
SANSEVAIN BROTHERS, Los Angeles. One case of California wine VII 73
KOHLER & FROHLING. California wines. VII 73
M. KELLER, Los Angeles. Four cases of California wines.
A. FENKHAUSEN, San Francisco. Three cases California wine and bitters. VII 73
TAYLOR & BENDEL, ‘San Francisco. One case of stomach bitters. VII 73
Dr. J. PIGNÉ San Francisco. Six cases of California and Nevada minerals and ores.
(Donated to the School of Mines, Paris) V 40
CALIFORNIA STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY. Volumes of the Society’s reports for distribution. V 40
WILLIAM P. BLAKE, San Francisco. Collection of California minerals and ores. (See list of minerals and ores.) V 40
DRS. HARKNESS and FREY, Sacramento. Large mass of silver ore from Blind Springs, Mono County, California, weighing about one hundred pounds V 40
————————————— (p. 337)]

Whitney, Josiah Dwight, State Geologist. Geological Survey of California. The Yosemite Guide-Book: A Description of the Yosemite Valley and the Adjacent Region of the Sierra Nevada, and of the Big Trees of California, Illustrated by Maps and Woodcuts. Published By Authority of the Legislature. (Sacramento]: 1870. viii, 155 p. illus. 8 plates, fold maps. 24 cm.
[“Prefatory Note. A statement of the way in which the present volume came to be authorized by the Legislature, and of the sources from which the information it contains was drawn, will be found in the introductory chapter. It may be proper to add, that two editions of the work have been published, one in quarto form, with photographic illustrations, the other (the present volume, namely), with wood-cuts. These cuts have been selected from among those used in the first volume of our “Geology of California.” The maps are the same in both editions, and the text also, except that some verbal changes have been made, and a few pages added, in this edition, relating to that portion of the High Sierra which lies near the head of the Kern, King’s, and San Joaquin Rivers. J. D. W. Cambridge, Mass., May 1, 1869. (p. viii)
[There are 8 full-page “plates” tipped in and 20 “figures” (primarily engraved landscapes) in the text pages. See Geology of California for titles. WSJ]

Whitney, Josiah Dwight, State Geologist. Geological Survey of California. The Yosemite Book. A Description of the Yosemite Valley and the Adjacent Region of the Sierra Nevada, and of the Big Trees of California. Illustrated by Maps and Photographs. New York: Julius Bien, 1868. 116 pp. 28 l. of plates. 28 b & w. [Twenty‑eight photographs, four by W. Harris, the remainder by Carleton E. Watkins. Photographic edition limited to 250 copies. NYPL, GEH collections.]

Transactions of the California State Agricultural Society During the Years 1866 and 1867.
Sacramento: D. W. Gelwicks, State Printer, 1868. 640 p.
[“ Report Upon the Universal Exposition at Paris, 1867.
Chapter I.
General View of the Paris Exposition of 1867.
The Building.
The general plan and arrangement of the Universal Exposition of eighteen hundred and sixty-seven was the result of the observation and experiences of the former great International Exhibitions at London in eighteen hundred and fifty-one, at Paris in eighteen hundred and fifty-five and at London in eighteen hundred and sixty-two….” (Etc., etc.) (p. 255)

                 List of Groups, with the Classes Attached.
                              Groups.

Group I.-Works of Art.
Paintings in oil………………..
Other paintings and drawings….
Sculpture and dye-sinking…….
Architectural designs and models……
Engraving and lithography….
Group II.-Apparatus and Application of The Liberal Arts.
Printing and books……..
Paper, stationery, binding, painting and drawing materials…….
Applications of drawing and modelling to the common arts….
Photographic proofs and apparatus…..
Musical instruments…….
Medical and surgical instruments and apparatus……
Mathematical instruments and apparatus for teaching science…..
Maps and geographical and cosmographical apparatus..
Group III.-Furniture and Other Objects For The Use of Dwellings.
Fancy furniture……..
Upholstery and decorative work.
Crystal fancy glass and stained glass….
Porcelain, earthen ware and other fancy pottery..
Carpets, tapestry and other stuffs for furniture….
Paper hangings…….
Cutlery……
Gold and silver plate……
Bronzes and other art castings and repoussé work..
Clocks and watches……..
Apparatus and processes for heating and lighting..
Perfumery…………
Leather work, fancy articles and basket work……
Group IV.—Clothing (Including Fabrics) and Other Objects Worn On The Person.
Cotton thread and fabrics…..
Thread and fabrics of flax…….
Combed wool and worsted fabrics…
Carded wool and woollen fabrics…….
Silk and silk manufactures…..
Shawls……Lace, net, embroidery and small ware manufactures…
Hosiery and underclothing and articles appertaining thereto…
Clothing for both sexes……” (p. 258)
Jewellery and precious stones….
Portable weapons………
Travelling articles and camp equipage.
Toys…….
Group V.-Products, Raw and Manufactured, of Mining Industry, Forestry, Etc.
Mining and metallurgy……
Forest products and industries………………..
Products of the chase and fisheries; uncultivated products…
Agricultural products (not used as food)……..
Chemical and pharmaceutical products….
Specimens of the chemical processes used in bleaching, dyeing,
printing, etc…….
Leather and Skins…….
Group VI.-Apparatus and Processes Used In The Common Arts.
Apparatus and processes of the art of mining and metallurgy…..
Agricultural apparatus and processes used in the cultivation of
fields and forests……
Apparatus used in shooting, fishing tackle and implements used
in gathering fruits obtained without culture.……………..
Apparatus and processes used in agricultural works and in works
for the preparation of food……..
Apparatus used in chemistry, pharmacy and in tan yards…..
Prime-movers, boilers and engines specially adapted to the
requirements of the Exhibition…
Machines and apparatus in general……………………….
Machine tools……
Apparatus and processes used in spinning and ropemaking..
Apparatus and processes used in weaving……..
Apparatus and processes for sewing and for making up clothing..
Apparatus and processes used in the manufacture of furniture
and objects for dwellings………
Apparatus and processes used in paper making, dyeing and
printing…….
Machines, instruments and processes used in various works……
Carriages and wheelwrights’ work…..
Harness and saddlery…
Railway apparatus..
Telegraphic apparatus and processes…..
Civil engineering, public works and architecture…..
Navigation and lifeboats……..
Group VII.-Food (Fresh Or Preserved, In Various States of Preparation).
Cereals and other eatable farinaceous products and the products
derived from them…….(p. 259)
Bread and pastry……………….
Fatty substances used as food, milk and eggs.
Meat and fish……
Vegetables and fruit…….
Condiments and stimulants, sugar and confectionery…
Fermented drinks…..
Group VIII.-Live Stock and Specimens of Agricultural Buildings.
Farm buildings and agricultural works……
Horses, asses, mules……
Bulls, buffaloes, etc……
Sheep, goats……
Pigs, rabbits…
Poultry……
Sporting dogs and watch dogs…..
Useful insects……..
Fish, crustace and mollusca…….
Group IX.-Live Produce and Specimens of Horticultural Works.
Hothouses and horticultural apparatus…..
Flowers and ornamental plants……
Vegetables……..
Fruit trees…………….
Seeds and saplings of forest trees…
Hothouse plants……
Group X.-Articles Exhibited With The Special Object of Improving The Physical and Moral Condition of The People.
Apparatus and methods used in the instruction of children………
Libraries and apparatus used in the instruction of adults at home, in the workshop or in schools and colleges…….
Furniture, clothing and food from all sources, remarkable for useful qualities combined with cheapness…….
Specimens of the clothing worn by the people of different countries………
Examples of dwellings characterized by cheapness combined with the conditions necessary for health and comfort….……………………..
Articles of all kinds manufactured by skilled workmen…..
Instruments and modes of work peculiar to skilled workmen….
To each of the first seven of these groups a circle or gallery of the building was arranged thus: Group I-Works of Art-occupied the inner circle or gallery; Group VI-the engines, machines, etc.-were placed in the outer gallery, a portion of which, along the outer side, was devoted to Group VII; and here, for example, were arranged the cereals, (p. 260)
the seeds, dried fruits, wines and liquors.
Group V-Raw and manufactured productions, such as minerals, ores, forest products, etc.-were placed in the gallery adjoining that containing the machinery. By following these galleries the visitor passed in succession among the productions similar in kind of different countries, while by following the avenues the visitor saw in succession the various productions and manufactures of the same country
After the adoption of this system it was decided to devote a portion of the inner circle to antiquities, so arranged as to give an approximate history of the progress of the arts from the earliest periods to the present time. This became a very interesting part of the Exposition to all classes of visitors. Even the pre-historic period was represented by collections of flint and bone implements from the caves and from the lake dwellings of Switzerland. The bronze period was also illustrated, and so on through the great periods of human history to the present age of steel.
The nature of the articles shown in this gallery of the “History of Human Labor” appears more fully by the following enumeration in the classification, by periods, adopted by the Imperial Commission:
First Epoch-Gaul before the use of metal. Utensils in bone and stone, with the bones of animals that have now disappeared from the soil of France, but found with these utensils, and showing the age to which they belong.
Second Epoch-Independent Gaul. Arms and utensils in bronze and stone. Objects in terra cotta.
Third Epoch-Gaul during the Roman rule. Bronzes, arms, Gaulish coins, jewellery, figures in clay; red and black potteries, incrusted enamels, etc.
Fourth Epoch-The Franks to the crowning of Charlemagne (A. D. eight hundred). Bronzes, coins, jewels, arms, pottery, MS. charters, etc.
Fifth Epoch-The Carlovingians, from the commencement of the ninth to the end of the eleventh centuries. Ivory sculptures, bronzes, coins, seals, jewels, arms, MS. charters, etc….” (Etc., etc.) p. 261) (Etc., etc.)
Distribution of Prizes.
A report was presented at this time by M. Rouher, Minister of State and Vice President of the Imperial Commission, enumerating in a general way the principal operations of the Commission and of the Jury, stating the total number of awards and citing some of the great inter-
national advantages derived from the Exposition. The International Jury was composed of six hundred members, chosen from men distinguished in science, industry, commerce and art, and of various nationalities. This Jury awarded:
Grand prizes……. 64
Gold medals….. 883
Silver medals. 3,653
Bronze medals….. 6,565
Honorable mentions. 5,801
The Jury of the new order of prizes awarded twelve prizes and twenty-four honorable mentions. In addition, the Emperor was pleased to confer upon some of the most eminent of the competitors in the Exhibition the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honor. The prizes awarded to exhibitors from California were as follows: State of California*-Cereals. Silver medal.
Dr. J. B. Pigné, San Francisco-Collection of California minerals. Silver medal.
William P. Blake, California-Collection of California minerals. Silver medal….” (p. 265)
Mission Woollen Mills, San Francisco-Exhibition of blankets, cloths and flannels. Bronze medal.
C. E. Watkins, San Francisco-Photographs of Yosemite Valley. Bronze medal.
Brown & Level, California-Self-detaching boat tackle. Bronze medal.
Buenavista Vinicultural Society-Sparkling wine. Honorable mention.” (266)]
Chapter IV.
Gold, Silver, Platinum and the Rare Metals.
Gold and Its Ores-California.
The principal mines of California were represented in the collection, as will be seen by reference to the appended catalogue. Although the collection was not as extensive and rich as it should have been, it was very interesting and instructive, and was highly commended for the uniformity of the specimens in size and for the arrangement. The collection sent by Dr. Pigné was also very complete and well classified, and contained specimens from some mines not otherwise represented. …” (Etc., etc.)
“…The large crystalline mass of gold from the Spanish Dry Diggings, (p. 299) California, which was exhibited for a time at San Francisco, in the window of Hickok & Spear, and was photographed by Watkins, is now in Paris, the property of M. Fricot, formerly the owner of the Eureka mine. at Grass Valley. Owing to the difficulty and expense of making this unique specimen perfectly safe in the Exposition, it was not entered there, but M. Fricot took pleasure in showing it freely at his house to those most interested….” (p. 300) (Etc., etc.)
“List of Exhibitors
of Objects from California at the Paris Exposition.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Names and Articles Exhibited. Group. Class.
———————————————————————————————————————————
MISSION WOOLLEN MILLS, San Francisco, Lazard Fréres,
Agents. Four cases of woollen goods, manufactured in
California from California wool.……………………. IV 30
C. H. HARRISON, San Francisco. Centrifugal pump………. IV 30
C. E. WATKINS, San Francisco. Series of twenty-eight large photographic
views of Yosemite Valley, and two of the Big Trees of the Mariposa Grove… II 9
LAWRENCE & HOUSEWORTH, San Francisco. Twenty-six large photographs
of Yosemite Valley and of the Great Trees, and three hundred stereoscopic
views of different localities in California…. II 9
EDWARD VISCHER, San Francisco. One case containing six portfolios of views
in California and Washoe… II 9
A. S. HALLIDIE & Co., San Francisco. Samples of wire rope, round and flat,
and iron and copper sash cords of California manufacture……. V 40
PACIFIC GLASS WORKS, San Francisco. Specimens of California made
glass bottles… III 16
JOHN D. BOYD, San Francisco. One highly finished ornamental door, made of
wood grown in California….. III 14
JOHN D. BOYD, San Francisco Specimens of the
wood of the Madrona, or California laurel…….. ….. V 41
JOHN REED, San Francisco. Premium tank lifeboat model, four feet long…….. VI
SAN LORENZO PAPER MILLS. Varieties of paper made at the company’s
mills in Santa Cruz, California…… VI 66
STANDARD SOAP COMPANY. Specimens of California made soap and
washing powders. VI 66
——————————————————————————————————————————— (p. 336) (Etc.,etc.)]

1870

Transactions of the California State Agricultural Society During the Years 1868 and 1869. Sacramento: D. W. Gelwicks, State Printer. 1870. 384 p.
[“ “Premiums Awarded in 1868”
Transactions of the Seventh Department.
Paintings, Drawings, Etc.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Exhibitor. Residence. Article. Premium.
———————————————————————————————————————————
W. L. Marple San Francisco. Oil painting $20
Norton Bush. San Francisco. Oil painting $20
W. L. Marple San Francisco. Landscape oil painting. $10
Norton Bush. San Francisco. Landscape oil painting. $10
Colonel Warren San Francisco. Collection of lithographs and engravings Diploma.
Mrs. W. E. Brown… Sacramento…. Flower painting. First-$10
Otto Schrader. San Francisco. Fruit painting First-$10
Mrs. G. D. Stewart. Sacramento…. Crayon drawing. Diploma.
J. B. Grouppe….. San Francisco. Wood engraving. Diploma.
Joseph F. Hess San Francisco. Pencil drawing. Diploma.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart. Sacramento…. Water color painting… First-$20
F. Serregni…….. San Francisco. Penmanship and pen drawing. First-Diploma and $5
J. W. Cherry San Francisco. . Sign painting. First – Diploma.
Wm. Shew. San Francisco. Plain photographs, life size. First-$15
Wm. Shew… San Francisco. Photograph in water color.. First-$15
Wm. Shew… San Francisco. Photograph in India ink……. First-$10
Wm. Shew….. San Francisco. Plain sun pearl. First-$15.
Wm. Shew San Francisco. Porcelain picture, colored…. First-$10
Silas Selleck.. San Francisco. Plain photograph, medium size. First-$10
C. E. Watkins…. San Francisco. Landscape photograph (collection). Special-$10
Thos. Houseworth… San Francisco. Collection of landscape photographs Special-$10
———————————————————————————————————————————
Sculpture. (Etc, etc.)
———————————————————————————————————————————
Musical Instruments. (Etc., etc.)
———————————————————————————————————————————
(p. 110)
“Noteworthy Exhibitions.” (p. 111)-
[“Under this heading we make brief mention of such displays in the Pavilion as from their nature or workmanship merit a careful scrutiny; but we do not wish to have the inference drawn that a failure to specially notice implies lack of merit in any particular exhibition. The Mission Woollen Mills, of San Francisco, Lazard Freres, agent, had a fine display of blankets, from the rough but useful miners’ blanket, to the soft and silky covering that adorns the luxurious couch, and a large variety of tweeds, cassimeres and beavers; besides ladies’ cloakings and flannels of the finest texture, and buggy robes and sluice blanketings. These mills were represented in the Exposition Universalle at Paris, where they were awarded a gold medal. We are told that they now employ three hundred men, and have fifty looms, six thousand spindles, and eleven sets of cards in operation. The goods they manufacture are a credit to our State. Dr. A. Folleau, of San Francisco, anatomical machinist, exhibited a case of artificial limbs and apparatus for human deformities, which attracted considerable attention from surgeons and physicians. Among the apparatus exhibited by him, are some for lateral curvature of the spine, for hip joint diseases, for club feet, for contraction of the muscles of the neck, and for deformities of the neck (torticoli). He had also a collection of trusses for inguinal, femoral, scrotal and umbilical diseases. The whole of the exhibition was manufactured in the City of San Francisco by the exhibitor, and many of the most meritorious particulars are the production of his inventive faculties. His artificial legs can be manufactured at the same price as those made in Philadelphia, and combine lightness with all necessary solidity. Liddle & Kaeding, of San Francisco, exhibited a collection of revolvers, guns, rifles, pistols, etc., and what they claim to be the first breechloading gun ever made on the Pacific Coast. They also exhibited a double-barrelled shot-gun, with a California laurel stock, and mounted with Washoe silver-the first time laurel was ever used for the purpose. They also had a large variety of sporting goods and fishing tackle….” (Etc., etc.) (p. 111)
“…W. L. Marple, of San Francisco, exhibited the finest pictures in the art gallery-comprising views of the Golden Gate, of Cascade Lake, the Summit from near Hawley’s, Lake Valley, and two views on Napa (p. 113) Creek. As at the Mechanics’ Institute Fair, these paintings were constantly surrounded by admiring groups of visitors, and elicited high eulogiums from those who claim to be art connoisseurs. No lover of art failed to examine carefully these very meritorious productions.
Thomas Houseworth & Co., of San Francisco, displayed photographic views of numerous localities and natural curiosities of the Pacific coast. Their collection was varied and interesting.
William Shew, of San Francisco, occupied a large space in the picture gallery with ivory types, sun pearls, cabinet and card photographs, and other choice productions of the daguerrian art, including portraits of many distinguished persons.
Silas Selleck, of San Francisco, also exhibited cabinet portraits, and plain and retouched photographs.
Norton Bush, of San Francisco, exhibited his fine series of paintings of the gorgeous tropical scenery of the Isthmus of Darien, including a view of Panama. Aside from their high artistic merits, they are interesting from the associations they recall in the minds of a large proportion of the visitors. He also exhibited “Mount Diablo,” from nature.
Mrs. C. Cook, of San Francisco, showed a case of beautiful hair jewelry, comprising bracelets, earrings, finger-rings, breastpins, etc. This collection was especially admired by lady visitors
P. Mezzara, of San Francisco, contributed some of his exquisitely cut cameos and some very fine busts. This gentleman has his studio at Bradley & Rulofson’s photographic gallery, San Francisco. As our State advances in the fine arts the productions of his genius are growing more and more in public estimation.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart, of Sacramento, exhibited three fine crayon sketches, entitled “The Bridge of Toledo,” “Apollo,” and “The Windmill.” She also exhibited three pictures of Scottish scenery in water colors. These pictures are from nature, were executed in earlier years, and embarrassed circumstances induces the lady artist to offer them for sale.
C. E. Watkins, of San Francisco, landscape photographer, exhibited in the gallery a large number of very fine views of scenes upon the Columbia River, and of many of the most beautiful landscapes and interesting natural curiosities of California and Oregon, including very large sized photographs of Portland and Oregon City. These views are executed in the highest style of the photographic art.
Serwais Tonnar, of San José, exhibited a rustic settee of heart maple, buckeye and redwood; and a rustic chair of the same woods, ornamented with shells. He also showed specimens of grafting wax-his own invention-which he claims to be superior to any other in use; and a pruning saw, also his own invention, which he claims does its work better and quicker than any other saw. Practical men speak highly of these two latter articles….” (p. 114) (Etc., etc.)]

Whitney, J. D. Report of the Commissioners to Manage the Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Big Tree Grove, for the Years 1866-7. San Francisco: Towne and Bacon. 1868. 14 p.
[“…As early in 1865 as the season would permit, a party was organized by the State Geologist for the purpose of making a detailed geographical and geological survey of the region of the high Sierra adjacent to the Yosemite Valley. This party consisted of C. King, J. T. Gardner, H. N. Bolander, and C. R. Brinley, with two men employed to pack and cook. They commenced work early in June, and continued in the field until the latter end of October, being accompanied by the State Geologist during a portion of the time. Owing to unavoidable causes, this party was obliged to return from the field before the work was completed. But enough had been done to enable Mr. Gardner to commence and partly finish a map, and the following plan of publication was determined on by the State Geologist. The work will consist of text, maps, and photographic and other illustrations, and two editions will be issued-one without photographs, the other with them. One will be called the “Yosemite Guide Book,” the other the “Yosemite Gift Book.” The Guide Book will contain the text of the Gift Book and the same maps, but the photographic illustrations will be omitted. The text will be such as will be suitable for a complete and thorough guide, or hand-book, to the Valley and its surroundings, including the high Sierra, and, in general, the region between Mariposa and Big Oak Flat on the west, and the head of the San Joaquin and Mono Lake on the east. The map of the region thus designated is drawn on a scale of two miles to one inch, and is thirty inches by twenty in size. It contains all the minute details of the topography of one of the most elevated and roughest portions of the State, and is the first accurate map of any high mountain region ever prepared in the United States. The surveys for the completion of this map were continued during the months of August and September of the present year, by a party of the Geological Survey, in charge of C. F. Hoffmann, and the work is now complete, and the map ready for the engravers. The photographic illustrations, twenty-four in number, made by C. E. Watkins, (p. 5) with the Dallmeyer lens of the Survey, are also all printed and delivered, and the work can be put to press as soon as the State Geologist has time to attend to it. It is believed that it will be one of the most elegant books ever issued from an American press, and that it will have no little influence in drawing attention to the stupendous scenery of the Yosemite and its vicinity.
Mr. Hoffmann and party also made a careful survey of the bottom of the valley, including all the land within the talus or débris fallen from the walls, and this work has been plotted on a scale of ten chains to one inch, making a map fifty inches by thirty in size, with the number of acres in each tract of meadow, timber and fern land designated upon it, and also the boundaries of the claims of the settlers in the valley, and the number of acres inclosed and claimed by them. This map was found to be necessary for the purposes of the Commission, and an appropriation will be asked for to pay the expense of the survey and of preparing the map.
The principal grove of trees in the Big Tree Grant has also been carefully surveyed by the State Geologist, assisted by Hoffmann, each tree of over one foot in diameter measured, and the height of a number of them accurately determined. There are in the main grove, of trees over one foot in diameter (that is, of the Big Trees or Sequoia gigantea), just three hundred and sixty-five, besides a great number of smaller ones. The trees thus measured have been plotted and numbered, so that their exact position and size relative to each other can be seen at a glance.
The Commissioners, seconded by the Geological Survey, have thus done all that is for the present requisite toward obtaining all the necessary statistical data in regard to the valley and grove, and for making this information public in an attractive form. It may be added that the Yosemite Guide-book and the Yosemite Gift-book will both be sold, as are other publications of the survey, and the proceeds paid into the treasury of State, for the benefit of the Common School Fund….” (p. 6) (Etc., etc.)]

Transactions of the California State Agricultural Society during the Years 1868 and 1869. Sacramento: D. W. Gelwicks, State Printer, 1870. 384 p. illus.
Premiums Awarded in 1868.
Seventh Department.
Paintings, Drawings, Etc.
Exhibitor. Residence. Article. Premium.
W. L. Marple San Francisco. Oil painting $20
Norton Bush San Francisco. Oil painting $20
W. L. Marple.. San Francisco. Landscape oil painting. $10
Norton Bush San Francisco. Landscape oil painting $10
Colonel Warren San Francisco Collection of lithographs and engravings Diploma.
Mrs. W. E. Brown Sacramento Flower painting First $10
Otto Schrader San Francisco Fruit painting First $10
Mrs. G. D. Stewart Sacramento Crayon drawing. Diploma.
J. B. Grouppe San Francisco. Wood engraving. Diploma.
Joseph F. Hess San Francisco. Pencil drawing Diploma.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart. Sacramento Water color painting First $20
F. Serregni San Francisco Penmanship and pen drawing First – Diploma and $5
J. W. Cherry San Francisco Sign painting First—Diploma.
Wm. Shew San Francisco Plain photographs, life size First—$15
Wm. Shew San Francisco Photograph in water color. First—$15
Wm. Shew San Francisco. Photograph in India ink. First—$10
Wm. Shew San Francisco. Plain sun pearl First—$15
Wm. Shew San Francisco. Porcelain picture, colored First—$10
Silas Selleck San Francisco. Plain photograph, medium size First—$10
C. E. Watkins San Francisco. Landscape photograph
(collection)Special—$10
Thos. Houseworth San Francisco. Collection of landscape photographsSpecial—$10
Sculpture.
Exhibitor. Residence. Article. Premium.
P. J. Devine San Francisco. Sculpture—A child’s bust First $10
J. C. Devine Sacramento Collection of marble work First—$30
Jos. Dunkerley San Francisco. Collection of prepared birds. First and diploma—$15
P. Mezzura San Francisco Collection of medallions Special—$10..
(p. 110)
Noteworthy Exhibitions.
Under this heading we make brief mention of such displays in the Pavilion as from their nature or workmanship merit a careful scrutiny; but we do not wish to have the inference drawn that a failure to specially notice implies lack of merit in any particular exhibition.
The Mission Woollen Mills, of San Francisco, Lazard Freres, agent, had a. fine display of blankets. from the rough but useful miners’ blanket, to the soft and silky covering that adorns the luxurious couch. and a large variety of tweeds, cassimeres and beavers; besides Iadies’ cloakings and flannels of the finest texture. and buggy robes and sluice blanketings. These mills were represented in the Exposition Universalle at Paris, where they were awarded a gold medal. We are told that they now employ three hundred men, and have fifty looms, six thousand spindles, and eleven sets of cards in operation. The goods they manufacture are a credit to our State.
Dr. A. Follcau, of San Francisco. anatomical machinist, exhibited a case of artificial limbs and apparatus for human deformities, which attracted considerable attention from surgeons and physicians. Among the apparatus exhibited by him, are some for lateral curvature of the spine, for hip joint diseases, for club feet, for contraction of the muscles of the neck, and for deformities of the neck (torticoli). He had also a collection of trusses for inguinal, femoral, scrotal and umbilical diseases. The whole of the exhibition was manufactured in the City of San Francisco by the exhibitor, and many of the most meritorious particulars are the production of his inventive faculties. His artificial legs can be manufactured at the same price as those made in Philadelphia, and combine lightness with all necessary solidity.
Liddle & Kaeding, of San Francisco, exhibited a collection of revolvers, guns, rifles, pistols, etc., and what they claim to be the first breechloading gun ever made on the Pacific Coast. They also exhibited a double-barrelled shot-gun, with a California laurel stock. and mounted with Washoe silver—the first time laurel was ever used for the purpose….” (p. 111)
W. L. Marple, of San Francisco, exhibited the finest pictures in the art gallery—comprising views of the Golden Gate, of Cascade Lake, the Summit from near Hawley’s, Lake Valley, and two views on Napa (p. 113) Creek. As at the Mechanics’ Institute Fair, these paintings were constantly surrounded by admiring groups of visitors. and elicited high eulogiums from those who claim to be art connoisseurs. No lover of art failed to examine carefully these very meritorious productions.
Thomas Houseworth & Co, of San Francisco, displayed photographic views of numerous localities and natural curiosities of the Pacific coast. Their collection was varied and interesting.
William Shew, of San Francisco, occupied a large space in the picture gallery with ivorytypes, sun pearls, cabinet and card photographs, and other choice productions of the daguerrian art, including portraits of many distinguished persons.
Silas Selleck, of San Francisco, also exhibited cabinet portraits, and plain and retouched photographs.
Norton Bush, of San Francisco, exhibited his fine series of paintings of the gorgeous tropical scenery of the Isthmus of Darien, including a view of Panama. Aside from their high artistic merits, they are interesting from the associations they recall in the minds of a large proportion of the visitors. He also exhibited “Mount Diablo,” from nature.
Mrs. C. Cook, of San Francisco, showed a case of beautiful hair-jewelry, comprising bracelets, ear-rings, finger-rings, breastpins, etc. This collection was especially admired by lady visitors
P. Mezzara, of San Francisco, contributed some of his exquisitely cut cameos and some very fine busts. This gentleman has his studio at Bradley & Rulofson’s photographic gallery, San Francisco. .As our State advances in the fine arts the productions of his genius are growing more and more in public estimation.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart, of Sacramento, exhibited three fine crayon sketches, entitled “The Bridge of Toledo,” “Apollo,” and “ The Windmill.” She also exhibited three pictures of Scottish scenery in water colors. These pictures are from nature, were executed in earlier years, and embarrassed circumstances induces the lady artist to offer them for
sale.
C. E. Watkins, of San Francisco, landscape photographer, exhibited in the gallery a large number of very fine views of scenes upon the Columbia River, and of many of the most beautiful landscapes and interesting natural curiosities of California and Oregon, including very large sized photographs of Portland and Oregon City. These views are executed in the highest style of the photographic art.
Serwais Tonnar, of San José, exhibited a rustic settee of heart maple, buckeye and redwood; and a rustic chair of the same woods, ornamented with shells. He also showed specimens of grafting wax—his own invention—which he claims to be superior to any other in use; and a pruning ‘saw, also his own invention, which he claims does its work better and quicker than any other saw. Practical men speak highly of these two latter articles….” (p. 114)
Miss Lillie Hamilton, aged thirteen years, exhibited a fine pieced quilt, evincing much care and taste.
Mrs. A. D. Whitney showed a very prettily arranged medley picture.
Miss Sarah C. Marvin, of Sacramento, exhibited a hair bouquet, very tastily arranged.
Mrs. William .H. Hobby, of Sacramento, also exhibited a very pretty hair bouquet.
Mrs. R. J. Merkley, of Sacramento, exhibited a beautiful wreath of feather flowers.
Mrs. S. M. Coggins, of Sacramento, exhibited specimens of retouched photographs, evincing skill and good judgment.
Miss Mollie Tittle exhibited some very fine crochet work tidies and a pretty bead cushion.,
Miss Maggie Ormsby, of Sacramento, exhibited some very pretty embroidery Work.
Miss Annie E. Hoag, of Washington, exhibited some neat worsted picture frames and embroidery on perforated card-board.
Miss Lottie Hoffman, of Sacramento, exhibited some very fine silk embroidery and water-color paintings….” (p. 119)

             —————————————   

Premiums Awarded in 1869.
Seventh Department.
Fine Arts.
Exhibitor. Residence. Article. Premium.
Norton Bush San Francisco. Best painting in oil $20
Norton Bush San Francisco Best painting in oil (tropical scene) $20
Mrs. G. D. Stewart Sacramento Best water colored painting Diploma.
A. A. Hart Sacramento Best uncolored photograph $10
G. W. Baker Sacramento Best lithography Diploma.
J. B. Grouppe San Francisco Best wood and seal engraving Diploma
Pacific Business College San Francisco Best penmanship $5
Mrs. W. E. Brown Sacramento Best crayon drawing Diploma.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart Sacramento Best pencil drawing Diploma
P. J. Devine San Francisco Best sculpture (bust) $10
Wm. Shew San Francisco Best plain photograph, life size $15
Wm. Shew San Francisco Best plain photograph, medium $10
Mrs. S. M. Coggins Sacramento Best photograph, in water color $15
Wm. Shew San Francisco Best plain porcelain picture $15
Mrs. S. M. Coggins Sacramento Best colored porcelain picture $10
Mr. Serregni San Francisco Best pen drawing Diploma.
Norton Bush San Francisco Best display of oil paintings $20
J. Wise San Francisco Portrait in oil Special— $10
D. H. Woods Sacramento Oil painting (landscape) Special—$10
W. E. Brown Sacramento Oil painting (St. Jerome) Special—$10
John Cooper Sacramento Best flute $5
(p. 206)
Noteworthy Exhibitions.
“…Norton Bush, the gifted young California artist, contributed quite a number of his beautiful pictures, including “Chagres River,” “Glimpse of Tropic Land,” two “Tropical Sketches,” “Lake Tahoe,” “Donner Lake,” “American River, near the Summit,” “Bay of Panama,” “Castle Rock,” and “Sketch in the Straits of Carquinez.” His tropical pictures were especially meritorious, and received high encomiums from the critical. The gorgeousness and indolence of tropic life are favorite subjects with Bush, and in their delineation he excels. The two small oval framed pictures, entitled “Tropical Sketches,” were gems in their way.
J. Wise, of San Francisco, exhibited several fine oil portraits of gentlemen and ladies, as samples of his skill in that art.
William Shew, of San Francisco, contributed a. large collection of photographs including ivorytypes, pearl pictures, etc., most of which, through their constant presence at our State fairs, have become quite familiar to our citizens. The pictures are very life-like, and bear very favorable testimony to the quality of the work produced at this gentleman’s gallery.
Mrs. Sarah M. Coggins, of Sacramento, exhibited some beautiful specimens of her skill with the brush in coloring photographs. The samples on exhibition were very delicately and truthfully tinted, and worthy of close attention.
Mrs. W. E. Brown, of Sacramento, had on exhibition several very fine oil paintings, including “Donner Lake, Sunrise,” “Donner Lake, Sunset,” (p. 211) “Medora,” “St. Jerome,” and “Winter.” They all evince care and talent, and received much praise.
Howard Campion, of Sacramento, showed “A Sporting Scene,” “Portrait of General Grant,” and “Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe.” A great deal can be truthfully said in favor of all his pictures; but the portrait of General Grant, whatever may be its merits in an artistic point of view, does not convey a correct idea of the features and figure of the present President. The expression of the countenance is not faithful to life, and Grant is not so large a man as the picture would lead us to imagine. “Emerald Bay” we prefer to all the rest; it is a pretty, evenly-toned picture, and possesses the attribute of merit of being pleasing to look upon. .
Mrs. G. D. Stewart, of Sacramento, contributed some water-color paintings, including “Sacramento City Cemetery,” “A Seaside Sketch,” and “Balmoral Castle.” Also, two crayons, “Pagan Rome” and “Christian Rome.” The two latter, especially, are very creditable, but they all deserved close inspection.
A full-length needlework picture of General Washington, made by the pupils of St. Joseph’s Convent, in this city, was very much admired, by the ladies particularly, though its excellence is sufficiently apparent to be appreciated by all. Quite a knot of spectators was almost always congregated in front of it during exhibition hours.
T. Rodgers Johnson, of San Francisco, exhibited a case of his finely worked regalias and emblems of the Odd Fellow, Masonic, Good Templar and other orders.
Drs. Folleau & Mabon, of San Francisco, had a show-case containing orthopedic apparatus for the hip disease, improved surgical appliances for ladies, orthopedic apparatus for club feet, orthopedic apparatus for angulaire curvature (Potts’ disease), artificial limbs and patent improved trusses. The collection was of special interest to medical and surgical gentlemen, and to those who are unfortunately afflicted with the various ailments which these contrivances are designed to alleviate or cure….” (p, 212)]

The Valley of the Grisly Bear. London: Sampson Low & Marston, 1870. n. p. 100 plus b & w. [Album containing original photographs by Albert Bierstadt and Carleton E. Watkins. (Its unclear from the library citation whether this a published album or a compilation.]

1871

       The Alta California Pacific Coast and Trans.Continental Rail-Road Guide
 Contains more information about the States and Territories of the Pacific
    Coast, and those traversed by the Great Trans-Continental Railroad,
      than any other Book extant. It gives a minutely detailed account
        of every City, Town, Railroad Station, Mining District, Moun-
                    tain, Valley, Lake, River, Hunting and Fishing Ground
            along the Great Trans-Continental Railroad, together
     with an account of CALIFORNIA, ITS INDUS-
        TRIES, LAND, CLIMATE, AND HOW NEW-
           COMERS CAN OBTAIN PUBLIC LAND.
          It is Profusely Illustrated with Excellent Views of the grand scenery of
   the Sierra Nevada and Rocky Mountains, and contains full informa-
      tion about all the Towns and Cities adjacent to the Cal. P. R. B.,
           the C. P. R. R., the S. P. R. R., the U.P. R. R., and the
     Utah Central R. R., together with their connections
           by Rail, Stage, and Steamer. It will tell you
                where to find the Mines, what they
            yield, where to go, how to go,
              where to Fish, and where
  TO HUNT THE BUFFALO, THE ANTELOPE, AND THE ELK.
 J. C. FERGUSSON, Editor and Manager.


San Francisco Cal: Fred MacCrelish & Co., 1871., 293 p., plates: illus., map. 18 cm.
—————————————
[ “Index.”
“Illustrations.
A Valley in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, (Frontispiece)
“From a sketch by Fred. Whymper.” “Engraved by G. W. ShourdS.”
Bay of San Francisco 73
“From a sketch by Fred. Whymper,” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds.”
Bear River Bay, Great Salt Lake, U. T. 212
“Drawn by Nahl Bros., San Francisco.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds, San Francisco.”
Pleasant Valley, Nevada 193
“From a Photograph by Watkins.” “Engraved by G. W Shourds.”
The Grand Hotel, San Francisco, California 55
“Shourds SC”
The Mormon Tabernacle, Salt Lake City, U. T. 218
“From a Photograph by Savage & Ottinger.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds.”
The Snow Sheds on the C. P. R. R., Sierra Nevada Mountains, Cal. 145
“From a Photograph by Savage & Ottinger, Salt Lake City.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds”.
The Summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Cal. 146
“Drawn by Nahl Bros., San Francisco.” Engraved by G. W. Shourds.”
The Prairie on Fire, Nebraska 267
“From a Drawing by Fred. Whymper.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds.”
Truckee River, from the East 157
“From a Photograph by Watkins.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds.”
Weber Cañon, U. T. 225
“From a Drawing by Fred. Whymper.” “Engraved by G. W. Shourds. (p. xii)]
—————————————
[Advertisement.]
WATKINS’
YOSEMITE GALLERY.
429 Montgomery Street,
San Francisco, Cal.
PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEWS
OF
YOSEMITE VALLEY,
THE BIG TREES,
THE MINES,
The Splendid Scenery
OF THE
CENTRAL PACIFIC RAILROAD.
THE COAST, ETC., ETC.
CAN BE HAD IN
ALL SIZES FOR FRAMING, THE ALBUM, OR THE STEREOSCOPE.
SOLD
WHOLESALE & RETAIL.
A LIBERAL DISCOUNT MADE TO THE TRADE.
YOU ARE REQUESTED TO VISIT THE GALLERY..” (before p. 113)]
—————————————

1872

Nordhoff, Charles. California: For Health, Pleasure, and Residence. A Book for Travellers and Settlers. New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, Franklin Square. 1872. 255 p.: illus., maps.; 23 cm.
[Nearly 60 wood-engraved illustrations, most of them views. Not attributed, but the artist has drawn many of the scenes from stereo photos by Watkins (and possibly Watkins’ Hart stereos). This is an example of a number of such works published soon after the completion of the transcontinental railroad. In addition, this volume has the following advertisement:
[“ CENTRAL PACIFIC RAILROAD.
——————
YOSEMITE
——————
The fame of the Valley of Yosemite has now become world-wide. Its towering cliffs, waterfalls like cataracts from the clouds, and the gigantic vegetation surrounding it has no comparison in the world. In sublimity of grandeur and enchanting beauty it surpasses expression, and must be viewed to be appreciated. Several eminent writers have attempted descriptions, but all have despaired in giving expression to the awe-inspiring feeling which fills the beholder of the mighty chasm. Bierstadt has painted it, and Watkins has photographed it, and these, as all writers say, give the nearest idea of the majesty of the scene to that of being present at the reality. As to the faithful, the admonition to “see Mecca and die,” so to the traveller-“see Yosemite the last of earth.”
——————
New Route for 1872,73,
Via the VISALIA DIVISION of the CENTRAL PACIFIC RAILROAD
From LATHROP to MERCED,
MARIPOSA, CLARKS, and INSPIRATION POINT;
Or via COULTERVILLE to GENTRY’S (Top of the Hill).
——————
LOS ANGELES,
Via SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD.
Leaving SAN FRANCISCO via C. P. R. R.
Connecting at TIPTON, (terminus) S. P. R. R., 248 Miles from San Francisco,
With the
TELEGRAPH STAGE LINE
Leaving at 6 A.M., Arriving at Los Angeles Next Day About 6 P.M.
PALACE SLEEPING COACHES will be run regularly on Trains between SAN FRANCISCO
(Oakland) and (Tipton) TERMINUS S. P. R. R., in Tulare Valley.
——————
PORTLAND,
(Oregon),
Via the CENTRAL PACIFIC RAILROAD.
Ogden To Junction,-Junction to Redding (Distance, 877 miles).
CALIFORNIA AND OREGON STAGE LINE.
Redding to Oakland, O. (Distance, 287 miles).
OREGON AND CALIFORNIA RAILROAD.
Oakland, O., to Portland (Distance, 181 miles).
——————
T. H. GOODMAN, General Passenger and Ticket Agent, C. P. R. R.
A. N. TOWNE, General Superintendent, C. P. R. R.
SACRAMENTO, California.” (p. 257)]

1876

United States Centennial Commission. International Exhibition. 1876 Official Catalogue. Part II Art Gallery, Annexes, and Out-Door Works of Art. Department IV.—Art.
(Eleventh And Revised Edition) Philadelphia: Published for the Centennial Catalogue Company by John R. Nagle And Company. Printed at the Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass.,1876. 170 p. frontis.
[“ PHOTOGRAPHY.
No. 104.—PHOTOGRAPHIC EXHIBITION BUILDING.
Architect, H. J. SCHWARZMANN.—Size, 242 by 77 feet.
Situated on the Avenue of the Republic, north of the Main Building, and east of
Memorial Hall. It is a one-story building, containing a single large chamber, with
screens projecting from the side walls and forming alcoves for exhibition purposes..
NO. ARTIST. TITLE. LOCATION.
1 Kurtz, W., New York, Photographs, in pastel, oil, and crayon. Screen 1, W.
2 Benerman & Wilson, Photographic transparencies for magic lanterns. Window, alcove 13.
3 Wenderoth & Co., Philadelphia, Plain and colored photographs. Screen 1, E.
4 Brady, W. [sic M] B., Washington,- Photographs, plain and India ink. Alcove 2, wall.
5 Alman & Co., New York, Photographs, plain and colored, in pastel, oil, and India ink. Screen 2, W.
6 Anthony, E. & H. T., & Co., New York, Magic lanterns and graphoscopes. Main avenue.
7 Burrell, D. T., Brockton, Mass., Plain photographs. Screen 2, S.
8 Sibley & Co., L. D., Vineland, N.J., Stereoscopic albums. Alcove 3.
9 Robbins, F., Oil City, Pa. Photographer’s dark tent., Alcove 15, S. E.
10 Hazzard, W. B., Philadelphia, Shade rollers. Alcove 1.
11 Wilson, J. J., New York, Improved magic lantern. Alcove 3.
12 Bierstadt, Ch., Niagara Falls, N.Y., Stereoscopic views. Screen 2, E.
13 Delamater, R. S., Hartford, Conn., Photographs, collections of. Screen 3, W.
14 Waller & Schrader, Brooklyn, N.Y. Photographic views. Screen 3, W.
15 Cremer, James, Philadelphia, Improved metallic graphoscopes. Main avenue.
16 Watkins, E. C., San Francisco, Photographic views, California. Screen 3, E.
17 Cox, W. A., Baltimore, Porcelain miniatures. Screen 4, W.
18 Edgar, Lydia, Philadelphia,- Photographs in crayon. Screen 4, W.
19 Weston, N., San Francisco, Photographs, enameled. Screen 4, W.
20 Stoddard, S. R., Glenn’s Falls, N. Y., Photographic views and illustrated guide-books. Screen 4, W.
21 Reilly, J. J., San Francisco, Stereoscopic views, Yosemite Valley. Screen 4, W.
22 Berkan, O., Philadelphia, Pyro-photographs, on porcelain. Wall, alcove 3.
23 American Photo- Relief Printing Company, Philadelphia, Transparencies, on glass, for magic lantern, by Woodbury process. vWindow, alcove 3.
24 Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco, Photographs, plain, in pastel, and crayon. Wall and screen 4, E.
(p. 137) (Etc., etc.)
[There are 287 photographers (American, then Foreign) listed in this portion of the catalog, and:
“No. 110. Centennial Photographic Association Building,
Architects, H. J. Schwarzmann, Hugh Kafka.—Size, 150 feet by 30 feet.
The Photographic Association have erected a one-story frame building, located north of the Main Exhibition Building, on the east side of Belmont Avenue. It contains one room for the exhibition of photographs, and three rooms for photographers, for working purposes.” (p. 145)
[This was an actual portrait studio for visitors to have their portraits taken. WSJ]

1877

United States Centennial Commission. International Exhibition, 1876. Reports and Awards
Vol. VII. Groups XXI-XXVII. Edited by Francis A. Walker, Chief of the Bureau of Awards. Washington: Government Printing Office. 1877.
[Published also in the Reports of the Centennial Commission. Washington, 1880, v.3-8. 32v. in 6. Illus., diagrs. 24 cm.
[“ Reports on Awards.
Photographs.

  1. Broadbent & Phillips, Philadelphia, Pa., U. S.
    Report.–Commended for plain photographs.
  2. G. W. Pach, New York, N. Y., U. S.
    Report.–Commended for photographs of groups and horses.
  3. Centennial Photographic Co., Philadelphia, Pa., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for good photographs of interiors, buildings, and engines.
  4. Thomas Gaffield, Boston, Mass., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for leaf prints and photo-chemical researches.
  5. Schreiber & Son, Philadelphia, Pa., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for plain photographs of animals.
  6. J. W. Black, Boston, Mass., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for Arctic views.
  7. J. F. Ryder, Cleveland, Ohio, U. S.
    Report.—Commended for skillful crayon work.
  8. Thomas Houseworth, San Francisco, Cal., U. S.
    Report.–Commended for artistic excellence of landscape photographs.
  9. Charles Bierstadt, Niagara Falls, N. Y., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for excellent stereoscopic pictures. (p. 76)
  10. Allman & Co., New York, N. Y., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for plain photographs and cloud-pictures.
  11. Henry Rocher, Chicago, Ill., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for artistic excellence in plain portraits and genre photographs.
  12. D. H. Anderson, Richmond, Va., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for good plain portrait photographs.
  13. C. E Watkins, San Francisco, Cal., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for artistic excellence of landscape photographs.
  14. W. I. Marshall, Fitchburg, Mass., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for photographs of scenery in the Yellowstone Park.
  15. Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco, Cal., U. S.
    Report.–Commended for good landscape photographs and crayon portraits.
  16. A. Hesler, Evanstown, Ill., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for children’s portraits.
  17. C. S. Mosher, Chicago, Ill., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for good portrait photographs.
  18. Allen & Rowell, Boston, Mass., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for carbon prints.
  19. N. Sarony, New York, N. Y., U. S.
    Report.–Commended for artistic excellence in plain portrait photographs and charcoal
    drawing.
  20. Dr. J. J. Woodward, Washington, D. C., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for excellence of micro-photographs. (p. 77)
  21. J. Landy, Cincinnati, Ohio, U. S.
    Report.-Commended for photographs of children, and plain portraits.
  22. W. Kurtz, New York, N. Y., U, S.
    Report.—Commended for general artistic excellence in all styles of portrait photographs,
    plain, crayon, oil, and pastel, and for a new process of making durable transfer crayons.
  23. J. H. Kent, Rochester, N. Y., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for good photographs from large direct negatives.
  24. Carl Seiler, Philadelphia, Pa., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for good micro-photographs.
  25. John Reid, Paterson, N. J., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for good photographs of bridges and engines.
  26. C. A. Zimmerman, Minn., U. S.
    Report.—Commended for photographs of Indians.
  27. L. G. Bigelow, Detroit, Mich., U. S.
    Report.-Commended for photographic art publications.
  28. A. Henderson, London, England.
    Report.–Commended for photo-enamels.
  29. William Bedford, London, England.
    Report.—Commended for artistic landscape photographs.
  30. Vernon Heath, London, England.
    Report.—Commended for artistic and technical excellence of large landscape, photo-
    graphs by the carbon process.
  31. Colonel Stuart Wortley, London, England.
    Report.—Commended for artistic landscape studies and technical excellence of uranium
    dry plates. (p. 78)
  32. Julia Margaret Cameron, Isle of Wight, England.
    Report.–Commended for good taste and artistic composition of photographs.
  33. H. P. Robinson, Leamington, England.
    Report:-Commended for artistic excellence of landscape studies.
  34. Frederick York, London, England.
    Report.-Commended for stereoscopic photographs of animals.
  35. Carl Norman, Tunbridge Wells, England.
    Report.–Commended for good landscape photographs.
  36. The London Stereoscopic and Photographic Co., London, England.
    Report.-Commended for imperial-size photographs.
  37. Frederick Hudson, Ventnor, Isle of Wight, England.
    Report.—Commended for artistic landscape photographs.
  38. Payne Jennings, Dublin, Ireland.
    Report.—Commended for the highest artistic excellence in landscape photography.
    (Etc., etc.)

1878

Crofutt, George A. Crofutt’s New Overland Tourist and Pacific Coast Guide, Containing a Condensed and Authentic Description of Over One Thousand Two Hundred Cities, Towns, Villages, Stations, Government Fort and Camps, Mountains, Lakes, Rivers, Sulpher, Soda and Hot Springs, Scenery, Watering Places, and Summer Resorts;…While passing Over the Union, Central and Southern Pacific Railroads,…From Sunrise to Sunset, and Part the Way Back Again;…Vol. 1 ‑ 1878‑9. Chicago: The Overland Publishing Co., 1878. 322 pp. illus. [“…illustrated with nearly 100 beautiful engravings, most of which were photographed, designed, drawn, and expressly engraved for the author of this work….engraved by R. S. Bross, of New York, and C. W. Chandler, of Ravenswood, Illinois,…The photographs were by Savage, of Salt Lake City, and Watkins and Houseworth, of San Francisco. All these artists, we take pleasure in recommending.”]

1883

California State Mining Bureau. Third Annual Report of the State Mineralogist for the Year Ending June 1, 1883. State Office, Sacramento: James J. Ayers, Supt. State Printing, 1883. 111 p.
[“Death of Joseph Wasson.”
“Since the publication of the last report the Honorable Joseph Was- son, to whom is due the founding of the State Mining Bureau, died in Mexico. The date of his death was April 18, 1883. He was appointed United States Consul for the port of San Blas, and his friends thought the change of climate would restore his failing health. This hope, unfortunately, proved groundless. However great the State Mining Bureau may become in the future, the name of Joseph Wasson will always be associated with its commencement. Mr. P. L. Peters, a well known artist of San Francisco, offered to paint, gratuitously, a portrait of Mr. Wasson from a photograph taken before his death. He has produced an admirable likeness, which has been hung in the library of the State Mining Bureau as a part of the history of the institution.
This incident suggested the idea of obtaining and preserving portraits of all those connected with the geological surveys of the State. To this end a small photograph of Dr. J. B. Trask, first State Geologist of California, was obtained from his wife and enlarged and retouched by C. E. Watkins, of San Francisco, which is now also framed and hung in the library….” (p. 18)]

Disturnell’s Strangers’ Guide to San Francisco and Vicinity.
A Complete and Reliable Book of Reference for Tourists and other Strangers visiting the Metropolis of the Pacific.
With a Map, Showing the Distances to Different Points by Half-Mile Circles from New City Hall.
San Francisco: W. C. Disturnell, Publisher, 534 California Street. 1883. 146 p., illus., maps. 16 cm.
[Advertisement.] “The Finest Specimens of Landscape Photography in America.”
WATKINS’
WORLD-RENOWNED
Photographic Views
OF
PACIFIC COAST SCENERY,
New Series.
Embracing the Very Choicest Views of the Following
Celebrated Localities:
YOSEMITE,
BIG TREES,
GEYSERS,
MONTEREY,
SANTA CRUZ,
Arizona, Columbia River, Etc., Etc.
All Sizes, from Stereoscopic to Imperial.
PRICES REASONABLE.
TOURISTS VISITING SAN FRANCISCO
Are Respectfully Invited to Call and Inspect these Magnificent Views
at the
PHOTOGRAPHIC PARLORS,
No. 427 Montgomery Street,
Between California and Sacramento Streets,
SAN FRANCISCO.” (p. 130)
“Guide to San Francisco and Vicinity.
NICKEL-PLATERS.
W. E. Shepman, 103 Geary.
OPTICAL GOODS.
F. L. M. Peters & Co., 207 Montgomery.
ORE CONCENTRATORS.
Adams & Carter, 109 California (see advertisement).
ORNAMENTAL GLASS.
S. E. Hopper, 39½ Fremont.
PATENT CHIMNEYS AND TOPS.
J. Browell, 727 Montgomery.
PHOTOGRAPHERS.
T. A. Brown, 606 Kearny.
New York Gallery, 25 Third.
C. E. Watkins’ Yosemite Art Gallery, 427 Montgomery
(see advertisement).
FOR THE BEST
TIN TYPES OR PHOTOGRAPHS
And the Finest Medallion Portraits
-GO TO
BROWN’S GALLERY
606 Kearny Street, corner Sacramento.
PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEWS.
C. E. Watkins’ Yosemite Art Gallery, 427 Montgomery
(see advertisement).
PIANOS AND ORGANS.
A. M. Benham, 735 Market.
Matthias Gray, 206 Post.” (p. 158)]

1884

Bentley, William R. Bentley’s Handbook of the Pacific Coast; Containing a Complete List of the Prominent Seaside and Mountain Resorts, Mineral Springs, Lakes, Mountains, Valleys, Forests, and Other Places and Objects of Interest on the Pacific Coast. Oakland: Pacific Press, 1884. n. p. 31 b & w. [Original photographs by C. E. Watkins.]

California State Mining Bureau. Fourth Annual Report of the State Mineralogist for the Year Ending May 15, 1884. Sacramento: James J. Ayers, Supt. State Printing, 1884. 410 p.
[“…There was a rumor, a number of years ago, that there was a large mass of meteoric iron on the line of travel up the coast, a few miles north of Crescent City, Del Norte County, but it could never be traced to any reliable source. The El Dorado meteorite was found at Shingle Springs, by a blacksmith whose name is not given. It was noticed by J. H. Crossman in 1871, and placed in the cabinet of W.V. H. Cronise, where it was seen and described by Professor B. Silliman, in the American Journal of Science and Arts for July 18, 1873, with a figure from a photograph by Watkins of San Francisco….” (Etc., etc.) (p. 261)]

1885

California State Mining Bureau. Fifth Annual Report of the State Mineralogist, for the Year Ending May 15, 1885. Sacramento: State Office. James J. Ayers, Supt. State Printing. 1885, 235 p.
[“Paris Universal Exposition of 1867.”
“This Exposition was created by a decree of the French Emperor. The site chosen was the Champ de Mars, the parade ground of the Ecole Militaire. The grounds were rectangular, and had an area of 119 acres. The building was circular, or rather was in form that of a rectangle with rounded ends, and was in effect seven concentric galleries inclosing a central pavilion surmounted by a dome. The area of the building was thirty-nine acres. Through the center of the grounds and building, from Pont d’ Jena to the Ecole Militaire, ran the wide Avenue de Europe….” (Etc., etc.) “…Each gallery was devoted to a special class of exhibits. This I believe was the first instance in which California was officially represented at any international Exposition. Professor William P. Blake was appointed State Commissioner to represent California, which he did to the credit of him(p. 18) self and the State. He made a collection of ores, minerals, and characteristic products, in all about 300 specimens. Gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, quicksilver, borax, salt, petroleum, and building materials were shown. A full list of the specimens was published in the Mining and Scientific Press, March 23, 1867, vol. 16, folio 178. Dr. J. B. Pigné, of San Francisco, exhibited a special collection of ores and minerals from the Pacific Coast, including California. These specimens were selected for their beauty and richness in the minerals they represented. At the termination, they were donated to the Ecole Imperiale des Mines of Paris. Besides the mineral display, the following names of California exhibitors appear in the reports:
Books.-State Agricultural Society, by reports and transactions.
Cereals.-A collective exhibit of California cereals was made by J. W. H. Campbell of San Francisco, J. D. Peters of Stockton, and L. D. Perkins of Oakland.
A special sack of high mixed white wheat, weighing one hundred and
twenty pounds, was shown by Mr. Campbell, which attracted much attention and was solicited for seed. At the close, what remained was donated to the Royal Agricultural Society of England. A special collection of seeds
of cereals and vegetables, one hundred and twenty varieties in all, was exhibited by Mr. Perkins, all of which were donated at the close to the Imperial Societé de Acclimation of France.
Glassware, by the Pacific Glass Works, of San Francisco, a large variety.
Hops.-T. Scheer, of San Francisco, exhibited a bale of hops of excellent quality, which was distributed to those interested, in small samples.
Life Boat Model, by J. Reed, of San Francisco.
Paper.-San Lorenzo Paper Mills.
Pump-Steam Wrecking-by Harrison & Co., of San Francisco. This, discharging, as it did constantly, a large volume of water, was a conspicuous object in the Exposition.
Photographs.-C. E. Watkins made a fine exhibit of California views, consisting of a complete set (30) of Yosemite views, and views of the big trees of the Mariposa Grove. These views were mounted in frames of the wood they represented.
Lawrence & Houseworth exhibited photographic and stereoscopic views, twenty-two large views of the Yosemite Valley, four of the Big Trees, twenty-one stereoscopic views of the Yosemite Valley, thirty-three of the Mammoth Trees, forty of San Francisco, seventeen illustrating hydraulic mining, forty-three of placer mining, and one hundred and fifty-eight of California scenes.
Edward Vischer, of San Francisco, sent six photographic albums of California and Nevada, which did not reach the Exposition.
Saw Teeth, adjustable for circular saws. Exhibited by W. P. Miller, of San Francisco.
Soap And Washing Powders.-Exhibited by the Standard Soap Company. The following absurd statement appears in the official reports:
“The alkali is said to be made from the ashes of the ice plant, which grows in Santa Barbara County.”
WINES.-Buena Vista Vinicultural Society of San Francisco exhibited sparkling Sonoma wines.
C. H. Le Franc, of New Almaden, Santa Clara County, red and white wines.
M. Keller, Rising Sun and Los Angeles vineyards, brandy, wine, and
bitters. (p. 19) Kohler & Frohling, San Francisco, Los Angeles red and white wines.
Sansevain Brothers, Los Angeles, wines.
Wire Rope.-A. S. Hallidie exhibited round and flat wire rope. The entire exhibit was donated to the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, at the close of the Exposition.
Woods.-John D. Boyd, of San Francisco, made a fine display of California woods and veneers, and two doors varnished and highly polished-one of redwood and one of laurel.
Woolen Goods.-Mission Woolen Mills, San Francisco, showed a large assortment of blankets, traveling shawls, cassimeres, and flannels. They were mixed, plaid, and plain, and the blankets were both colored and
plain. The peculiar blanket used to collect gold and sulphurets in the sluices was shown and attracted the attention of mining men.
The following Californian exhibitors received awards:
W. P. Blake, Commissioner, silver medal, for exhibit of California minerals. This is equivalent to an award to the State.
State of California, for cereals, also a silver medal.
Dr. J. B. Pigné. Silver medal.
Mission Woolen Mills, for woolen fabrics, bronze medal.
C. E. Watkins, photographs, bronze medal.
Buena Vista Agricultural Society. Honorable mention.
The following States and Territories were represented by mineral exhibits,
some by large State exhibits, others by a few specimens, sometimes shown
by private individuals:…” (Etc., etc.) (p. 20)]

1886

California State Mining Bureau. Six Annual Report of the State Mineralogist for the Year Ending June 1, 1886. State Office, Sacramento: James J. Ayers, Supt. State Printing, 1886. 222 p.
[“99. Meteoric Iron. In 1866 Dr. Trask found a small fragment of iron in Honcut Creek. Butte County. It had the appearance of cast- iron, and was pronounced by Professor Brush not to be meteoric. Still it was considered remarkable at the time, that a fragment of cast-iron should have been found under the circumstances, and it is a little singular that a similar fragment has been recently sent to the State Mining Bureau, which was found on the bedrock, near Columbia, Tuolumne County. At a meeting of the California Academy of Sciences, February 19, 1866, Professor J. D. Whitney stated that Dr. J. G. Coffin had found fragments of iron in the bed of the Mohave River. At that time no meteorite had been found in California that was known to be such. There was a rumor, a number of years ago, that there was a large mass of meteoric iron on the line of travel up the coast, a few miles north of Crescent City, Del Norte County, but it could never be traced to any reliable source. The El Dorado meteorite was found at Shingle Springs, by a blacksmith whose name is not given. It was noticed by J. H. Crossman in 1871, and placed in the cabinet of W. V. H. Cronise, where it was seen and described by Professor B. Silliman, in the American Journal of Science and Arts for July 18, 1873, with a figure from a photograph by Watkins of San Francisco. A short notice of it by Professor C. U. Shepard of Amherst College, appeared in the same journal of June, 1872. The weight of this meteorite was about eighty-five pounds avoirdupois. Its largest dimensions were twenty-four and twenty-nine centimeters; density, 7.875. No Widmannstattian figures were developed by etching. The following analysis of it by J. A. Cairns, of the School of Mines, Columbia College, New York, is published:…” (Etc., etc.) (p. 122)]

1887

Catalogue of the bric-a-brac, rare Oriental rugs, oil paintings, furniture, fine curtains, large collection of fine old engravings and etchings and the valuable library belonging to the estate of the late Rev. Henry Ward Beecher; the whole to be sold by auction … on Tuesday, November 8th, 1887, and following days … American art association, managers. Thomas E. Kirby, auctioneer. New York: Press of J. J. Little & Co., 1887. 2 pl., 280 p. 24 cm. [3887 lots.]
[ Line Engravings and Etchings.
Woollett (Wm.) And Pouncey (B. E.).
Brother-in-law of Woollett.
3750* Morning. Swanevelt
Zobell.
3751 Thoroughbreds. A. J. Battan
3752 The Little Coquette. Meyer Von Bremen
3753 Portrait. J. M. W. Turner, R.A. D’Orsay
Framed Photogravures.
3754 Avant le Grain. India paper proof. After Marvin Courant
3755 Cheik Arabu en Voyage. India paper proof. Ad. Schreyer
Galvanographs.
3756* Büch Von Aulis. Carl Rottmann
3757* Schlachtfeld von Marathon. Carl Rottmann
Photographs.
3758 9 Views in Utah, Colorado, etc. Large folio, mounted. H. W. Jackson & Co.
3759 10 Views in Yosemite Valley, etc. Large folio. By C. E. Watkins and others
3760 2 Views. The Domes and Lower Semite. Large folio. By T. Houseworth & Co.
3761 5 Views in Rome. Large folio. By McPherson
3762 7 Views, architectural. Various
3763 4 Views, British Cathedrals. By Roger Fenton
3764 3 Views, Durer’s House, Pueblo de Taos and The Parthenon.
3765 8 Views in Arkansas, Colorado, etc. By W. H. Jackson, etc.
3766 11 Views in Switzerland, “plate mounted.” By Ch. Soulier
3767 12 Photographs, various. By Frith, Jr., R. Fenton and Jos. Cundall
Issued by the Art Urion of London, A.D. 1859.” (p. 273) (Etc., etc.)
[Beecher owned more than 120 photographs, (No. 3758 to No. 3877). Many are reproductions of paintings, and some portraits, but a good number are landscapes and architectural views; including views in Rome by McPherson, views in France by Baldus, Bisson Freres, Gambart, Le Gray, and others.]

1888

1 b & w (“Hydraulic Mining.” “Photo. By C. E. Watkins. Photo-Typo by Britton & Rey, S. F.”) tipped-in before p. 307; 1 b & w (“Cave at the Base of the Upper Yo Semite Fall” “Photo. by C. E Watkins.”) on p. 477 in: Hutchings, J. M. In the Heart of the Sierras The Yo Semite Valley, Both Historical and Descriptive: and Scenes by the way. Big Tree Groves. The High Sierra, With Its Magnificent Scenery, Ancient and Modern Glaciers, and Other Objects of Interest; With Tables of Distances and Altitudes, Maps, Etc. Profusely Illustrated. By J. M. Hutchings, of Yo Semite. Published at the Old Cabin, Yo Semite Valley, and at Pacific Press Publishing House, Oakland, Cal. 1888. 496 p.: illus., ports. Maps; 24 cm.
[ “Influential Helpers.”
“The table here presented will also show the steady increase in numbers from year to year, as a knowledge of its marvelous grandeur was disseminated by returning visitors, by newspaper and book eulogiums, by photographs and paintings, and by lectures. Nor will justice to the earnest first workers in this deeply interesting field, both in literature and art, permit me to omit such names as Horace Greeley, Samuel B. Bowles, Albert D. Richardson, Charles L. Brace, Prof. J. D. Whitney, Dr. W. A. Scott, Rev. Thos. Starr King, and a host of others, whose books, newspaper articles, and lectures, contributed so largely to extend the fame of the great Valley: Or of C. L. Weed, its pioneer photographer, and C. E. Watkins, who had no superior in photographic art, and whose excellent prints have found their way to every corner of civilization. And, though last, by no means least, must be mentioned such eminent artists as A. Bierstadt, Thos. Hill, William Keith, Thos. Moran, P. Munger, A. Hertzog, and many more whose paintings have so much contributed to the public appreciation of its sublime scenic wonders. In subsequent times, and additional to the above, should be included the successful labors of Benj. F. Taylor, Helen Hunt (Jackson), Mary E. Blake, and a multitude of other writers: Thos. Houseworth, Geo. Fiske, Taber, J. J. Reilly, S. C. Walker, G. Fagersteen, and other photographers: C. D. Robinson, R. D. Yelland, Holdridge, and other artists–and all worthy helpers in advancing its renown.” (p. 131)
[Illustrated with drawings, photos, etc. Many by George Fiske. The Watkins photos are taken at some time later than his iconic photos from the 1860s. WSJ]

Ninth Annual Report of the United States Geological Survey to the Secretary of the Interior 1887-’88. By J. W. Powell, Director. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1889. 199 p.
[“ The Heads of Divisions.
Abstract of disbursements made by R. R. Hawkins, etc.-Continued.
———————————————————————————————————————
Date of payment. No. of voucher. To whom paid. For what paid. Amount.
———————————————————————————————————————
Feb. 24 20 Samuel C. Partridge Camera, lens, etc. $88.75
(Etc., etc.)
Mar. 2 25 H. A. Messenger. Pasturing public animals $14.75
(Etc., etc.)
Mar. 13 27 C. E. Watkins Silver Prints, etc. $4.75
(Etc., etc.) (p. 189)]

Tenth Annual Report of the United States Geological Survey to the Secretary of the Interior 1888-’89. By J. W. Powell, Director. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1890. p.
[“ Administrative Reports by.
Abstract of disbursements made by R. R. Hawkins, special disbursing agent U. S. Geological Survey, during the second quarter of 1889
———————————————————————————————————————
Date of payment. No. of voucher. To whom paid. For what paid. Amount.
———————————————————————————————————————
(Etc., etc.)
Oct. 27 10 C. E. Watkins Development, etc. $9.90
(Etc., etc.) (p. 226)]

San Francisco Municipal Reports for the Fiscal Year 1887-88. Ending June 30, 1888.
Published by Order of the Board of Supervisors.
San Francisco: W. M. Hinton & Co. Printers, 536 Clay St.,1888. v. illus., plates, ports., fold. maps. 23 cm.
[“Appendix.”
Personal Property Assessment.
Names and Assessments.
The following table contains the names of all persons, firms and corporations assessed for the sum of $2,500 and over, for personal property, on the Assessment Book Personal Property of the City and County of San Francisco for the fiscal year 1888:… (p. 12)
(Etc., etc.)
NAME. DESCRIPTION OF PROPERTY AMOUNT
(Etc., etc.)
Watkins, C. E….Pictures, $3,000; Furniture, $250; Watch, $100;
Money. $1,000….. $4,200.
(Etc., etc.) (p. 84)]

1890

Fallows, Samuel. The United States: its history, physical and political geography, material resources and industrial development. Chicago, R. S. Peale & Co., 1890. [104] p., maps. 26 cm. [n. b. This seems to be an unpaged draft fragment from a larger effort, sent to the Library of Congress for copyright purposes; i.e. the index lists Yosemite Valley as being on p. 816, yet the bound volume is limited to 104 pages WSJ.]
[“… Mount Hood is a very conspicuous and grand mountain mass on account of its isolation, its regular form, and the extent to which it is covered with snow. It appears higher than it really is, because it can be seen from a point only about thirty miles distant, which is but little above the sea-level, and where the fine scenery of the Columbia River and of the basaltic region adjacent to it makes an admirable foreground. It is a favorite subject for landscape artists, and has been repeatedly climbed by tourists, the ascent being without special difficulty. The same may be said in regard to Mount Shasta.
Mount Rainier, of which the aboriginal name is said to be Tacoma, is much less accessible than either Hood or Shasta, but has been climbed several times, and first in 1870 by Messrs. Stevens and Van Trump, of Olympia, Washington. As seen from the southern end of Puget Sound, at a distance of forty miles from its base, this mountain is an object of surpassing grandeur. It is of almost exactly the same height as Shasta, but is much more deeply and extensively covered with snow and ice than is that cone. As Rainier is in the midst of a tangled forest without roads, and almost without trails, it can only be reached by travelers fitted out with pack animals and camp equipage, and who are able and willing to bear the fatigues of camp life in a difficult forested country. So far as known to the writer, its higher portions have never been visited by any skillful photographer; while Shasta and Hood have been finely photographed from a great number of points of view by Mr. C. E. Watkins, of San Francisco.
On the whole, these great isolated snow-covered volcanic cones Of the Pacific coast are, from the scenic point of view, the grandest objects which this country presents.. In the picturesque effect which they produce they may be fairly placed on an equality with anything which the Alps have to show, indeed, so far as an opinion can be relied on which is based on comparison of photographs only, these almost extinct volcanoes of the Cascade Range must be fully as attractive from a scenic point of view as the higher ones of Mexico, and, perhaps, not much less admirable as scenic objects than the much loftier cones of South America, which all rise from very high bases, and of which the snow-covered portions seem but insignificant in extent as compared with the uncovered rocky slopes….” (Etc., etc.) (scan # 100)]

CONTEMPORARY

The Hearst Collection of Photographs by Carleton E. Watkins, Pioneer Pacific Coast Photographer. Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1956. 8 pp. [Exhibition checklist, Apr. 1956.]

Johnson, J. W. The Early Pacific Coast Photographs of Carleton E. Watkins. “Water Resources Center Archive Series, Report No. 8” Berkeley, CA: University of California, Water Resources Center, 1960. 64 p. 5 b & w., 4 illus.
[Table of Contents
Preface iv
Introduction
Biographical Sketch 1
Photographic Methods 7
Watkins’ Scenic Views 11
Appendices
Photographic Methods
A – California Historical Society 17
B – California State Library 19
C – George Eastman House 22
D – Huntington Library 23
E – Library of Congress 28
F – New York Public Library 32
G – Stanford University Library 33
H- U. S. Geological Survey 38
I – University of California, Berkeley (Hearst Collection) 39
J – University of California, Berkeley (Bancroft Library) 50
K – University of California, Los Angeles 59
Notes 60.”]

Alinder, James, ed. Essays by David Featherstone and Russ Anderson. Carleton E. Watkins: Photographs of the Columbia River and Oregon. Carmel, CA: Friends of Photography, in association with the Weston Gallery, Carmel, 1979. 136 pp. 51 b & w. 8 illus.

Sexton, Nanette. Carleton E. Watkins: Pioneer California Photographer. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1982. n. p. illus. [Ph.D. Dissertation, Harvard University, 1982.]

Fels, Thomas Weston. Carleton Watkins: Photographer ‑ Yosemite and Mariposa Views from the Collection of the Park‑McCullough House, North Bennington, Vermont. Williamstown, MA: Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, 1983. 42 pp. 14 b & w. [Introduction by Rafael Fernandez.]

Carleton E. Watkins: Photographer of the American West. Fort Worth, TX: Amon Carter Museum, 1983. 1 l. pp. 6 b & w. [Illustrated guide to the exhibition, first displayed at the Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, TX, then travelled. One sheet, folded into 16 sections, with a biographical essay, a chronology, and six reproductions of Watkins’ views.]

Palmquist, Peter E. Carleton E. Watkins: Photographer of the American West. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1983. 235 pp. 113 b & w. 68 illus. [With a foreword by Martha A. Sandweiss.]

Dimock, George. Exploiting the View: Photographs of Yosemite & Mariposa by Carleton Watkins. North Bennington, VT: Park‑McCullough House, 1984. 32 pp. 8 b & w. [Exhibition: July 8 ‑ Sept. 28, 1984]

Terry, Richard. Carleton E. Watkins: a listing of photographs in the collection of the California State Library. Sacramento, Calif.: California State Library Foundation, c1984. iii, 83 p., [20] leaves of plates: ill.; 28 cm.

Haller, Douglas M. “‘Yosemite Landscape Showing Mount Watkins and Mirror Lake,’ 1861, by Carleton E. Watkins, San Francisco,” in: Four Pioneer Photographers in California: Carleton E. Watkins, Arnold Genthe, Charles C. Pierce, Minor White. San Francisco, CA: California Historical Society, 1986. 4 pp. 4 l. of plates. [Portfolio of four photographs, one by each photographer named, from the photographic collections of the Society. Texts are biographical and critical essays about each photographer in the portfolio.]

Carleton E. Watkins. Photographs 1861 ‑ 1874. Essay by Peter E. Palmquist. San Francisco, CA: Fraenkel Gallery, in association with Bedford Arts, Publishers, 1989. 222 pp. 110 b & w.

Gustave Le Gray, Carleton E. Watkins : Pioniere der Landschaftsphotographie: Beispiele aus der Sammlung des J. Paul Getty Museums, Malibu: Städtische Galerie im Städelschen Kunstinstitut Frankfurt am Main, Graphische Sammlung, 2. September bis 7. November 1993 = Gustave Le Gray, Carleton E. Watkins: pioneers of landscape photography : photographs from the collection of the J. Paul Getty Museum / [Katalog, Margret Stuffmann und Martin Sonnabend mit den Autoren]. Mainz : H. Schmidt, c1993. 128 p.: ill.; 22×27 cm.

Rule, Amy. Carleton E. Watkins: Selected Texts and Bibliography. Boston: G. K. Hall, 1993. Xix, 189 p. ill., facsims., plan, port; 26 cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. [129]-175) and index.
Carleton Watkins: photographs from the J. Paul Getty Museum. Los Angeles: The Museum, c1997. 143 p.: ill.; 20 cm.

Nickel, Duglas R. Carleton Watkins: the art of perception; with an introduction by Maria Morris Hambourg. San Francisco, Calif.: San Francisco Museum of Modern Art; New York, N.Y.: Harry N. Abrams, c1999. 228 p.: ill.; 30 cm.

Naef, Weston J. Carleton Watkins in Yosemite. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum, c 2008. 82 p.: chiefly ill., map; 27 cm. [Accompanies the exhibition Dialogue among giants, the J. Paul Getty Museum, October 14, 2008, to March 1, 2009.]

Naef, Weston J. and Christine Hult-Lewis; with contributions by Michael Hargraves, Jack von Euw, and Jennifer A. Watts. Carleton Watkins : the complete mammoth photographs. Los Angeles : J. Paul Getty Museum, c 2011. xxv, 572 p.: ill., maps; 33 cm.

Carleton Watkins: the Stanford albums. Stanford, CA: Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for the Visual Arts : Stanford University Press, 2014. 280 pages : illustrations (some color) ; 29 x 37 cm.

PERIODICALS

1862

“Notes of the Month.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 9:173 (Sept. 1, 1862): 335. [“To the American Department at the International Exhibition a number of photographs have been added, including a series called Brady’s Incidents of the War —remains of railway depots presenting little but masses of debris, a melancholy spectacle of the sad havoc of war—forts, entrenchments, and Father Mooney Administering Mass to the 69th Regiment; Bridge at Bull Run, &c. Mr. Brady also exhibits some interesting portraits of very large size, 18 by 16, though much worked upon, including His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, Fremont, Seward, Jefferson Davis, and others.
Some exceedingly large views of the lakes, valleys, gigantic trees, and almost untrodden solitudes of the interior of California— where do not photographers penetrate?—by C. E. Watkins, are worth attention, though much faded.”]

1863

Holmes, Oliver Wendell. “Doings of the Sunbeam.” ATLANTIC MONTHLY 12:69 (July 1863): 1-16. [Extensive and informed survey of the variety of photographic practices at the time, from scientific uses to amateur hobbyists. Mentions by name: E. & H. T. Anthony, John W. Black, Carleton Watkins, London Stereoscopic Company, Mathew Brady [Alexander Gardner’s views of Antietam battlefield.], Walter De la Rue, Rutherford, John Whipple, Dr. Henry Draper, Donne, Professor O. N. Rood, Dr. John Dean, Coleman Sellers, S. Wager Hull, and others. WSJ]
[“Few of those who seek a photographer’s establishment to have their portraits taken know at all into what a vast branch of commerce this business of sun-picturing has grown. We took occasion lately to visit one of the principal establishments in the country, that of Messrs. E. & H. T. Anthony, in Broadway, New York. We had made the acquaintance of these gentlemen through the remarkable instantaneous stereoscopic views published by them, and of which we spoke in a former article in terms which some might think extravagant. Our unsolicited commendation of these marvellous pictures insured us a more than polite reception. Every detail of the branches of the photographic business to which they are more especially devoted was freely shown us, and “No Admittance” over the doors of their inmost sanctuaries came to mean for us, “Walk in; you are heartily welcome.” We should be glad to tell our readers of all that we saw in the two establishments of theirs which we visited, but this would take the whole space which we must distribute among several subdivisions of a subject that offers many points of interest. We must confine ourselves to a few glimpses and sketches….. “We had been for a big time meditating a devotion of a part of what is left of our more or less youthful energies to acquiring practical knowledge of the photographic art. The auspicious moment came at last, and we entered ourselves as the temporary apprentice of Mr. J. W. Black of this city, well known as a most skillful photographer and a friendly assistant of beginners in the art. We consider ourselves at this present time competent to set up a photographic ambulance or to hang out a sign in any modest country town.” (Holmes then describes the process of making a wet-collodion negative and a print.) …“Many “dry methods” have been contrived, of which the tannin process is in most favor. The plate, after being “sensitized” and washed, is plunged in a bath containing ten grains of tannin to an ounce of water. It is then dried, and may be kept for a long time without losing its sensitive quality. It is placed dry in the camera, and developed by wetting it and then pouring over it a mixture of pyrogallic acid and the solution of nitrate of silver. Amateurs find this the best way for taking scenery, and produce admirable pictures by it, as we shall mention by-and-by. In our former articles we have spoken principally of stereoscopic pictures. These are still our chief favorites for scenery, for architectural objects, for almost everything, but portraits,—and even these last acquire a reality in the stereoscope which they can get in no other way. In this third photographic excursion we must only touch briefly upon the stereograph. One of the most interesting accessions to our collection is a series of twelve views, on glass, of scenes and objects in California, sent us with unprovoked liberality by the artist, Mr. Watkins. As specimens of art they are admirable, and some of the subjects are among the most interesting to be found in the whole realm of Nature…. The “London Stereoscopic Company” has produced some very beautiful paper stereographs, very dear, but worth their cost, of the Great Exhibition…. The London Stereoscopic Company has also furnished us with views of Paris, many of them instantaneous, far in advance of the earlier ones of Parisian origin…. With the exception of this series, we have found very few new stereoscopic pictures in the market for the last year or two. This is not so much owing to the increased expense of importing foreign views as to the greater popularity of card-portraits, which, as everybody knows, have become the social currency, the sentimental “green-backs” of civilization, within a very recent period. We, who have exhausted our terms of admiration in describing the stereoscopic picture, will not quarrel with the common taste which prefers the card-portrait. The last is the cheapest, the most portable, requires no machine to look at it with, can be seen by several persons at the same time, in short, has all the popular elements…. The sitters who throng the photographer’s establishment are a curious study. They are of all ages, from the babe in arms to the old wrinkled patriarchs and dames whose smiles have as many furrows as an ancient elm has rings that count its summers. The sun is a Rembrandt in his way, and loves to track all the lines in these old splintered faces. A photograph of one of them is like one of those fossilized sea-beaches where the rain-drops have left their marks, and the shellfish the grooves in which they crawled, and the wading birds the divergent lines of their foot-prints, tears, cares, griefs, once vanishing as impressions from the sand, now fixed as the vestiges in the sandstone. Attitudes, dresses, features, hands, feet, betray the social grade of the candidates for portraiture. The picture tells no lie about them…. We have learned many curious facts from photographic portraits which we were slow to learn from fades. One is the great number of aspects belonging to each countenance with which we are familiar. Sometimes, in looking at a portrait, it seems to us that this is just the face we know, and that it is always thus. But again another view shows us a wholly different aspect, and yet as absolutely characteristic as the first; and a third and a fourth convince us that our friend was not one, but many, in outward appearance, as in the mental and emotional shapes by which his inner nature made itself known to us. Another point which must have struck everybody who has studied photographic portraits is the family likeness that shows itself throughout a whole wide connection…. The field of photography is extending itself to embrace subjects of strange and sometimes of fearful interest. We have referred in a former article to a stereograph in a friend’s collection showing the bodies of the slain heaped up for burial after the Battle of Malignano. We have now before us a series of photographs showing the field of Antietam and the surrounding country, as they appeared after the great battle of the 17th of September. These terrible mementos of one of the most sanguinary conflicts of the war we owe to the enterprise of Mr. Brady of New York. We ourselves were on the field upon the Sunday following the Wednesday when the battle took place. It is not, however, for us to bear witness to the fidelity of views which the truthful sunbeam has delineated in all their dread reality. The photographs bear witness to the accuracy of some of our own sketches in a paper published in the December number of this magazine. The “ditch” is figured, still encumbered with the dead, and strewed, as we saw it and the neighboring fields, with fragments and tatters. The “colonel’s gray horse” is given in another picture just as we saw him lying. Let him who wishes to know what war is look at this series of illustrations. These wrecks of manhood thrown together in careless heaps or ranged in ghastly rows for burial were alive but yesterday. How dear to their little circles far away most of them — how little cared for here by the tired party whose office it is to consign them to the earth! An officer may here and there be recognized; but for the rest if enemies, they will be counted, and that is all. “80 Rebels are buried in this hole” was one of the epitaphs we read and recorded. Many people would not look through this series. Many, having seen it and dreamed of its horrors, would lock it up in some secret drawer, that it might not thrill or revolt those whose soul sickens at such sights. It was so nearly like visiting the battlefield to look over these views, that all the emotions excited by the actual sight of the stained and sordid scene, strewed with rags and wrecks, came hack to us, and we buried them in the recesses of our cabinet as we would have buried the mutilated remains of the dead they too vividly represented. Yet war and battles should have truth for their delineator. It is well enough for some Baron Gros or Horace Vernet to please an imperial master with fanciful portraits of what they are supposed to he. The honest sunshine “Is Nature’s sternest painter, yet the best”; and that gives us, even without the crimson coloring which flows over the recent picture, some conception of what a repulsive, brutal, sickening, hideous thing it is, this dashing together of two frantic mobs to which we give the name of armies. The end to he attained justifies the means, we are willing to believe; but the sight of these pictures is a commentary on civilization such as a savage might well triumph to show its missionaries. Yet through such martyrdom must come our redemption. War is the surgery of crime. Bad as it is in itself, it always implies that something worse has gone before. Where is the American, worthy of his privileges, who does not now recognize the fact, if never until now, that the disease of our nation was organic, not functional, calling for the knife, and not for washes and anodynes? It is a relief to soar away from the contemplation of these sad scenes and fly in the balloon which carried Messrs. King and Black in their aerial photographic excursion…. One of their photographs is lying before us. Boston, as the eagle and the wild goose see it, is a very different object from the same place as the solid citizen looks up at its eaves and chimneys…. We have formerly taken occasion to speak of the wonderful stereoscopic figures of the moon taken by Mr. De la Rue in England, by Mr. Rutherford and by Mr. Whipple in this country. To these most successful experiments must be added that of Dr. Henry Draper, who has constructed a reflecting telescope, with the largest silver reflector in the world, except that of the Imperial Observatory at Paris, for the special purpose of celestial photography…. While the astronomer has been reducing the heavenly bodies to the dimensions of his stereoscopic slide, the anatomist has been lifting the invisible by the aid of his microscope into palpable dimensions, to remain permanently recorded in the handwriting of the sun himself. Eighteen years ago, M. Donne published in Paris a series of plates executed after figures obtained by the process of Daguerre. These, which we have long employed in teaching, give some pretty good views of various organic elements, but do not attempt to reproduce any of the tissues. Professor O. N. Rood, of Troy, has sent us some most interesting photographs, showing the markings of infusona enormously magnified and perfectly defined. In a stereograph sent us by the same gentleman the epithelium scales from mucous membrane are shown floating or half-submerged in fluid, a very curious effect, requiring the double image to produce it. Of all the microphotographs we have seen, those made by Dr. John Dean, of Boston, from his own sections of the spinal cord, are the most remarkable for the light they throw on the minute structure of the body…. Still another application of photography, becoming every day more and more familiar to the public, is that which produces enlarged portraits, even lifesize ones, from the old daguerreotype or more recent photographic miniature. As we have seen this process, a closet is arranged as a camera-obscura, and the enlarged image is thrown down through a lens above on a sheet of sensitive pa per placed on a table capable of being easily elevated or depressed. The image, weakened by diffusion over so large a space, prints itself slowly, but at last comes out with a clearness which is surprising, a fact which is parallel to what is observed in the stereoscopticon, where a picture of a few square inches in size is “extended” or diluted so as to cover some hundreds of square feet, and yet preserves its sharpness to a degree which seems incredible. The copying of documents to be used as evidence is another most important application of photography…. Some of our readers are aware that photographic operations are not confined to the delineation of material objects. There are certain establishments in which, for an extra consideration, (on account of the difficilis ascensus, or other long journey they have to take,) the spirits of the departed appear in the same picture which gives the surviving friends. The actinic influence of a ghost on a sensitive plate is not so strong as might be desired; but considering that spirits are so nearly immaterial, that the stars, as Ossian tells us, can be seen through their vaporous outlines, the effect is perhaps as good as ought to be expected…. There are various ways of producing the spirit-photographs. One of the easiest is this. First procure a bereaved subject with a mind “sensitized” by long immersion in credulity. Find out the age, sex, and whatever else you can, about his or her departed relative. Select from your numerous negatives one that corresponds to the bite lamented as nearly as may be. Prepare a sensitive plate. Now place the negative against it and hold it up close to your gas-lamp, which may be turned up pretty high. In this way you get a foggy copy of the negative in ‘one part of the sensitive plate, which you can then place in the camera and take your flesh-andblood sitter’s portrait upon it in the usual way…. The number of amateur artists in photography is continually increasing. The interest we ourselves have taken in some results of photographic art has brought us under a weight of obligation to many of them which we can hardly expect to discharge. Some of the friends in our immediate neighborhood have seat us photographs of their own making which for clearness and purity of tone compare favorably with the best professional work. Among our more distant correspondents there are two so widely known to photographers that we need not hesitate to name them: Mr. Coleman Sellers of Philadelphia and Mr. S. Wager Hull of New York. Many beautiful specimens of photographic art have been sent us by these gentlemen, among others, some exquisite views of Sunnyside and of the scene of Ichabod Crane’s adventures. Mr. Hull has also furnished us with a full account of the dry process, as followed by him, and from which he brings out results hardly surpassed by any method. A photographic intimacy between two persons who never saw each other’s faces (that is, in Nature’s original positive, the principal use of which, after all, is to furnish negatives from which portraits may be taken) is a new form of friendship. After an introduction by means of a few views of scenery or other impersonal objects, with a letter or two of explanation, the artist sends his own presentment, not in the stiff shape of a purchased carte de visite, but as seen in his own study or parlor, surrounded by the domestic accidents which so add to the individuality of the student or the artist. You see him at his desk or table with his books and stereoscopes round him; you notice the lamp by which he reads, the objects lying about; you guess his condition, whether married or single; you divine his tastes, apart from that which he has in common with yourself….]

Holmes, Dr. O. W. “Doings of the Sunbeam.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 10:195 (Aug. 1, 1863): 308-309. [“From the Atlantic Monthly.” Excerpts, but includes Watkins reference. See Atlantic Monthly 12:69 (July 1863): 1-16. WSJ]

1864

Ludlow, Fitz-Hugh. “Seven Weeks in the Great Yo-Semite.” ATLANTIC MONTHLY 13:80 (June 1864): 739-754. “We were going into the vale whose giant domes and battlements had months before thrown their photographic shadow through Watkin’s camera across the mysterious wide continent, causing exclamations of awe at Goupil’s window, and ecstasy in Dr. Holmes’s study. At Goupil’s counter and in Starr King’s drawing-room we had gazed on them by the hour already,—I, let me confess it, half a Thomas-a-Didymus to Nature, unwilling to believe the utmost true of her till I could put my finger in her very prints. Now we were going to test her reported largess for ourselves.” p. 740. “Far up the Valley to the eastward there rose far above the rest of the skyline, and nearly five thousand feet above the Valley, a hemisphere of granite, capping the sheer wall, without an apparent tree or shrub to hide its vast proportions. This we immediately recognized as the famous To-coy-ae, better known through Watkins’s photographs as the Great North Dome. I am ignorant of the meaning, of the former name, but the latter is certainly appropriate. Between Tu-toch-anula and the Dome, the wall rose here and there into great pinnacles and towers, but its sky-line is far more regular than that of the southern side, where we were standing.” p. 747.]

“Seven Weeks in the Great Yo-Semite. (Continued from page 779.)” FRIENDS’ REVIEW; A RELIGIOUS, LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS JOURNAL 17:50 (Aug. 13, 1864): 795-797. [From The Atlantic Monthly. (Describes riding into the valley. “’Clark’s,’ where tourists stop for this purpose, is just half-way between Mariposa and the great Valley… Big Trees… Mariposa County groves… Merced river… Inspiration Point… etc.) “…This we immediately recognized as the famous To-coy-ae, better known through Watkin’s photographs as the Great North Dome. I am ignorant of the meaning of the former name, but the latter is certainly appropriate…”]

“Photographic Notes on Various Subjects.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 11:237 (Nov. 18, 1864): 459. [“                                     On Relief in Landscape Photography.
 An interesting article which appeared recently in One of your contemporaries, on the Use of Stops, has been reprinted in extenso in this country. There is one important point in it on which I feel obliged to differ from the view’s taken by the waiter; and as the matter in question is one which affects every view r taken with the aid of the camera, it seems to deserve further discussion, with the object of arriving, if possible, at the truth. It is alleged in the article in question that the reducing of the diaphragm too much produces a flatness and want of relief in the picture; that, therefore, whilst we should diminish the aperture until w 7 e obtain the requisite definition and depth of focus, we must cany this no further than is quite necessary, otherwise we introduce the defect just mentioned. It is evidently the idea of the waiter that a wide aperture tends to produce something of a stereoscopic effect, by relieving flatness and producing an effect of relief. Now, this may possibly be the case where a portrait lens of large aperture is used, with objects at a very moderate distance; but when the objects are as far off as those ordinarily included in a view, it seems hardly possible that the small variations allowable in the stopping of the lens can have any effect upon the relief obtained.
 Relief, as the term is used in photography, denotes the perception of the difference between a solid body and a plane surface included between the same visual angles. How this is accomplished is a matter which has never been made very plain. The theory generally in vogue is that the eyes combine two different pictures, as in the stereoscope, and that the conception of relief arises from some mental perception of the differences in the two images. This theory is at first sight plausible enough. It is so far true that the cause assigned is certainly capable of producing the effect; but it is also equally true that the effect does not always require this cause, and may be produced quite independently of it. Will any one, for example, assert that by closing one eye the perception of relief disappears? On the contrary, the view seen with one eye is exactly similar to that seen with two—so much so that physicians are familiar with the fact that many persons habitually use only one eye, and some have even gradually lost the sight of one eye without becoming aware of the loss until they have casually closed the other, and noticed with astonishment that they could not see
a single picture stereoscopic effect is, of course, always impossible, and relief is only to be obtained by correct perspective and by a favourable disposition of light and shade. In a photograph, this latter requisite is only to be obtained by a fortunate selection of time of day, and accidental illumination.
                                    On the Development of Plates in the Field.
Some photographs of remarkable beauty have been exhibited during the past summer. They consist of a set of thirty views, taken in the Yo Semite Valley, California, of very large size, and generally of excellent definition and fine artistic effect. The scenery represented is very grand and beautiful, and it is a matter of no small surprise how the photographer (Mr. Watkins) could have succeeded in carrying the paraphernalia for photographing on so large a scale through the wilderness which he has so successfully photographed.
Ingenuity has of late been much exercised to find the means of alleviating the labour of carrying the dark tent and its burdensome appurtenances into the field. Sabatier Blot’s apparatus for this purpose has attracted much attention; and Weiske now proposes an ingenious improvement on it. All the arrangements hitherto made, including Blot’s, effect the development by lowering the plate after exposure into a bath or developer. Now r as the quantity requisite to fill even the smallest practicable bath is very greatly larger than what w r c habitually pour over the plate in the usual method of developing, the silver remaining on the plate becomes excessively diluted, and the negative consequently wants strength, which must be given by troublesome and disadvantageous re-developments. To avoid this, Weiske makes a developing box out of thin, well-varnished wood, having at the bottom a narrow trough or pouch of gutta-percha, containing the developer. By inclining the box to one side, the developer is made to flow over the plate. One side of the box consists of a piece of orange-coloured glass, through which the development is viewed. As soon as this is finished, the plate may be taken out and fixed in bright light without injury. Weiske remarks that when iron is used as a developer the development is complete, and all the free nitrate is reduced in from fifteen to twenty seconds. This is certainly an error. A very instructive method of studying the phenomena of photographic development, is to take a clean flat porcelain capsule, and to pour into it various developers in succession, adding a few chops of silver solution. This is done in bright light, and the gradual reduction of the silver can be watched, also the development of invisible stains on the porcelain by the deposit of the silver. Now, having myself frequently and carefully studied the actions of developing solutions in this way, I have no hesitation in affirming that free nitrate will exist in presence of the developer for double or treble the time just mentioned.
 As there would be some trouble in procuring a gutta-percha pouch of the form necessary to attach to Weiske’s developing box, Indiarubber might be conveniently substituted. With a little care, good pure India-rubber in sheets can be fashioned into almost any form desired, as the fresh cut sections will always adhere by pressure if kept clean. To form a pouch, therefore, it is only necessary to cut a rectangular piece of proper length and breadth, and then remove a wedgeshaped piece from each end. leaving a re-entering angle. By pressing together the sides of this angle a trough is obtained, somewhat resembling in shape those used in organic analysis, and of any size desired.
 Philadelphia, November 1st, 1864. M. Carey Lea.” (p. 459)]

1866

“Views in the Yosemite Valley.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 3:28 (Apr. 1866): 106-107. [“Every one has doubtless heard of the magnificent scenery of the Yosemite Valley, Mariposa County, California, and the wonderful views made there by Mr. C. E. Watkins, of San Francisco. A mysterious-looking roll^ having the appearance of a ” sample of albumen paper to try, asking your opinion of it,” was brought us by the mail a few days since, and upon opening it, was found therein six of these grand views, ready to unroll themselves and astonish us. At no time has our table been graced and favored with such a gorgeous contribution. They now lie before us, and as we unroll them, again, we will endeavor to give a faint idea of what they are like; and faint, it must be, for no pen can describe such wonders of art faithfully. It has been said that “the pen is mightier than the sword,” but who shall not say that in this instance, at least, the camera is mightier than the pen? The first is a view up the valley, showing the El Capitan Mountain, which is 3000 feet high. This mountain presents its rocky side to us almost perpendicularly, and the same appearance at one end, which seems to have had a twin piece cleft away from it, leaving one corner of this giant rock almost at right angles, while another range hides itself behind. The great giant trees look like infants alongside, and those on top like mere shrubbery. Like a huge sentinel stands up JSl Ca2ntan in the silent valley, defying any force to surmount it or remove it, and ever watching all that goes on beneath its dignified head. The second is the Bridal Veil, 900 feet high, giving us a view of it from the Coulterville Trail. Here we have another grand mountain study, and being lower than the other, we are able to see the shrubbery scattered on its rocky sides, and at its base to find some magnificent tree studies. It is called the “Bridal Veil,” because of the light aerial sheet of water that leaps from the top of the rocks to the valley below, spreading a beautiful veil of spray over everything in its course, and looking as soft and charming as the veil of the new-made bride, and making one quite as curious to know what beauties are hid beneath it. What is behind this rocky height that modest Dame Nature would not disclose, we will not inquire about. It may be a gorgeous sunset, or it may be some grand composition of nature, creeping closely up to some sensitized plate, and “they twain become one,” for the purpose of giving us another grand view as the fruit of their union. Mayhap the veil hides her blushes while the form of preparation goes on. The third is The Lower Cathedral. Here we might rest and look an hour. Such a formation of solid rock, towering high up into the clouds, well-named Cathedral^ cannot elsewhere be found, and we cannot describe it. Running up its rocky sides, we come to a point which looks more giddy than any steeple height, and once there it seems that the whole world might be viewed from it, and from there ruled and commanded. Where the altar, and where the choir sufficient to grace and to fill such an immensity, we fear the world cannot tell. Yet on one side we see the shadow of a still greater and higher mountain, whose fearful height no one can ever hope to climb. We never saw trees that were more successfully photographed. There seems to have been no wind, and the very best kind of light. Not a sign of motion is apparent, and the leaves can almost be counted. Along the rocky sides of the Cathedral, we see great pines hanging almost horizontally, as if to peep into the valley below, and at its base, here and there, we find such a daring monarch fallen, leafless, and dead. The fourth is a view on the Merced, showing a part of that beautiful stream, full of sunlit rocks and saucy little cascades, and watched by a verdure-clad range of rocks that seem impassable. Here the foliage is also most successfully taken; everything sharp and clean. We get a nearer view of the mountains, only to make their perpendicular sides look more fearful and impossible of ascent, and seeming to say, “Thus far shalt thou go and no farther.” The fifth picture comes without any name, but is evidently another view on the same river. It combines three of the mountain giants, forming valleys, and between them a forest line of splendid trees. Being right on the shore, this whole beautiful panorama is reflected in the stream, leaving the white, smooth shore in the centre of the picture, and almost defying the casual observer to tell which is the reflection and which the real view, telling plainly how clear the water in the stream must be. With such magnificent air and light, and water and scenery, oh! what lover of our art does not sigh to be there with tripod and lens. Lastly, we come to the King’s Mountain, which Mr. Watkins has marked “One of my pets.” We heartily sympathize with him, and with his permission will call it one of our ”pets;” for we assure him, with due thanks and appreciation of the many kind friends who have helped fill our portfolio, we must say, and they would agree with us could they see them, that these views are the “pets” of the portfolio. No wonder that the artist calls this “one of my pets.” It is folly for us to try to describe. The pen is weak, and the camera great. Such mountains, the “King,” in the foreground, and his subjects in the distance; such gorgeous foliage, ceasing their obeisance to their king while they creep into the camera a moment to kiss a shadow at the plate, we cannot describe. Each pebble on the shore of the little lake at the foot of the throne may be as easily counted as on the shore in nature itself. Each leaf stands out, each reflection clear and bright. By all means send to Mr. Watkins for a set of his views, and share our wonder and our delight. The views are 16X20, and came to us by mail in excellent order through our obliging agent, Mr. A. T.Ruthrauff, of San Francisco. In a letter from Mr. Watkins, he says, “I have forgotten what I sent, but think the most of them were made with the Globe; King’s Mountain and the Bridal Veil, I am sure, were. The horizon line in the picture of Mt. Starr King is from eight to ten miles distant, and the Bridal Veil is perhaps three-fourths of a mile. I use wet plates. This summer I shall make another trip to the Valley, and will send you a sample of what I do on my return.” After his next trip we shall endeavor to get more particulars from him.

“California Photographs.” HUMPHREY’S JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY, AND THE ALLIED ARTS AND SCIENCES 18:2 (May 15, 1866): 21. [Review of an album of twenty prints 17″ x 22″, of the Yo Semite Valley and elsewhere.]

“Chromo-Lithography.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 3:32 (Aug. 1866): 233-234. [“As photography and lithography travel so often hand in hand, as we hear of so many photo-lithographic processes, and as it is part of our mission to encourage art, to raise the tastes of the masses to the beautiful, and to tell them what is beautiful, we need ask no apology for offering a paper upon the subject of Chromo-Lithography. From Messrs. L. Prang &Co., publishers, Boston, Mass., we have received a series of nine chromo-lithographs, representing marine and landscape studies from nature, and a 10 x 12 chromo of some little chickens, after an oil painting by A. P. Tait, the renowned chicken painter. The former are very beautiful in their way, but so far eclipsed by the latter that we will have to forget them in our admiration of the chickens. The picture represents five little chicks, apparently twenty-four hours old, who have strayed away from the maternal feathers to forage on their own account. Two of them are pulling at a beetle, while the others, amazed at such youthful combativeness, have assumed the most beautiful attitudes imaginable for baby chickens, and are looking on, ready to seize the coveted morsel, should the contestants let it drop. One involuntarily exclaims, when looking at them, that they are real chickens, and that they can almost be heard to chirp. The picture is certainly the most successful one of the kind that we have yet seen, and we know not why such baby pictures may not be often repeated by photography and chromo-lithography without a touch from Tait’s or any other artist’s pencil. Would we not then have photographs in colors? who can tell but what the future success of photography in colors lies in this direction? Our readers may see how this can be possible when we tell them how chromo-lithographs are made. We have twice visited the immense establishment of Messrs. Prang & Co., and have there seen the workings of their process. Chromo-lithography is the art of picture-printing in colors from stone, and, although not a very recent invention, it has been greatly modified and improved of late years; it might, with propriety, be called mechanical painting, as the colors are laid on one after another, mingling the different tints and shades until the picture is complete, in a manner analogous to painting with a brush; and, provided the men who undertake the work are skilful artists, there is no reason why a chromo-lithograph should fall short, in point of expression or delicacy, of the original painting which it is designed to imitate. As it is familiar to most of our readers, we hardly need say more about the ordinary lithographic process than that a lithograph is a chemical drawing upon stone — the drawing being made with a greasy or oily ink upon the peculiar quality of limestone found in the quarries of Solenhofen, Bavaria. All other processes of engraving are mechanical rather than chemical, as in wood or type work, where the impression is obtained from a raised design, or in copper and steel plates, where the design is made by deep incisions, into which the printing ink is rubbed. In the lithographic process, however, there is neither relievo nor intaglio design — the operation is dependent simply upon the chemical afiinity existing between the greasy matter employed for drawing, and that constituting the printing ink, and the antagonism which this matter has for water, with which the stone is in ail cases dampened before pulling an impression. In chromo-lithography the process is identical, except that a different stone is required for every color employed, and the ink used is a species of oil color, similar to that adopted by artists for painting. The number of stones used depends upon the number of colors required, usually varying between ten and thirty, and the time necessary to prepare these stones for an elaborate piece of work extends over months, and sometimes years; but the number of colors in any given picture is not always an indication of the number of stones employed, as the colors and tints are multiplied by combination in being printed one over another; thus, in an engraving in which twenty-five stones are used, there may be upward of one hundred different shades of color obtained by this means. The amount of labor and detail involved in drawing the different parts of the design upon so many stones is almost inconceivable to one who is uninitiated. The modus operandi is as follows: Upon the first stone a general tint is laid, covering nearly the whole picture, and as many sheets of paper as there are to be copies of the picture are printed from it. A second stone is then prepared, embracing all the shades of some other color, and the sheets already printed with the first color are worked over this stone. A third, fourth, fifth and sixth follow, each one repeating the process, and adding some new color, advancing the picture a step further, until the requisite number of colors have been applied. The printing of so many colors, and the time required for drying each before the application of a succeeding one, involves months of careful and anxiously watched labor. Great care and skill are required to perfect what is technically termed the “registering,” or that part of the process which provides that the paper falls upon every, stone ill exactly the same position relatively to the outline. To attain this end, stout brass pins are fixed in a frame surrounding each stone. These pins penetrate the paper in making the first impression, and, the holes thus made being carefully placed over the pins in all subsequent impressions, insures the certainty of the outline on every stone always falling into the same position on every sheet. At last, however, it leaves the press to be sized, embossed, varnished, mounted and framed. The embossing is that part of the operation necessary to break the glossy light, and soften the hard outlines, a broken structure being given to the print by being passed through the press in contact with a roughened stone. Heretofore we have been compelled to look to England or Germany, when wanting a fine chromo, but we are rejoiced to find that it need no longer be so. This makes the efforts of Messrs. Prang & Co. the more praiseworthy and acceptable, and we trust that ere long every American drawing-room may be decorated with American chromos, after the originals of American artists. Photography is going to be an immense help to this new branch of art in this country. Some day we shall have some of Watkins’s magnificent Yosemite views reproduced in natural colors by chromo-lithography. Photography welcomes this new handmaiden, and will gladly assist her in catering to the wants of good taste and refinement. Success to them both, their helpmates and their votaries.”]

Morton, Rev. H. J., D. D. “Yosemite Valley.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 3:36 (Dec. 1866): 376-379. [“Facts,” we are told, “are often stranger than fiction,” and the experience of almost every month satisfies us that it is so. The wildest fancies of the poet and romancer, are left far behind by the startling developments of human passion, or the strange and glorious triumphs of human skill. Fancy a man saying, in the exuberance of his hopefulness only a few years ago, that the time would come, when he would stand on the shores of the new world and talk with a dweller on the other side of the Atlantic, and get an answer to his questions in less time than it would take to convey a message from one hamlet to another, in the same narrow valley, or on the same limited range of ordinary hills! We should have laughed him to scorn as a wild visionary! and yet we have lived to see this rejected dream of fancy a literal fact, and have felt that ” facts were indeed stranger than fiction.” The same remark applies to natural scenery, and has been recalled to our minds by a beautiful series of photographic views, kindly sent us by Mr. Wilson, editor of this Journal, representing the natural features of the Yosemite Valley. Before praising these views and speaking of the grand impressions produced by them, we will relieve our mind by an adverse criticism. One cannot but regret that no human figures have been introduced in these views, by means of which the eye could at once measure the immense distances covered by mountains, attained by trees, or swept by waterfalls! We can only judge of the size of objects whose dimensions are unknown, by comparing them with objects whose bulk is understood. A hill may be as a wall of heaven, a tree as a column supporting the majestic roof, yet who will be able to realize these facts, if there are no objects of known dimensions by means of which we can measure the magnitude of wall and column. A man standing by a tree shows us at once, whether it is a shrub, or a superb heaven-piercing pine. A tent pitched at the base of a granite mass, informs us at a glance whether it is a common boulder, or a gigantic mountain, lifted up many thousands of feet above the level of the plain. A singular illustration of this fact presented itself, on our first visit to St. Peter’s at Rome. Entering the nave of that famed structure, the first feeling, as we looked about us, was one of disappointment! It was, doubtless, a fine building, but certainly not at all extraordinary, as regarded size. We had seen buildings nearly as vast in their proportions. After pausing for a while we moved forward, attracted by two little marble cherubs supporting a shell on the opposite side of the building. They were apparently a foot high, and might have been appropriate ornaments for a mantle or parlor bracket. We were a long while in getting to them, and they grew strangely as we approached, till at last on reaching them, we found that they were figures six feet high, and that the little shell was a vast reservoir, which we could just reach with the hand, and touch the water which it held! Then the building began to grow — to expand on every side — its vastness was at once recognized. We saw, and understood, that it was of perfect but gigantic proportions. Talking a few days ago, with a distinguished artist in this city, we found that he too had experienced the same disappointment, and had been relieved by the same process. We had a similar singular illustration of this fact, in one of the supei-b photographs of the Yosemite Valley, submitted to our inspection! It was the photograph of a tree. The “grizzly giant” it was called, if we recollect aright, and though the tree was manifestly a very fine one, we felt disappointed in regard to the apparent size! The storms of centuries had torn its topmost bough, and indeed had decapitated it. So it stood shorn of its original and just proportions, a giant perhaps, but not a very great one — tall, but not particularly gigantic. On looking more attentively and minutely at the photograph, we discovered a group of men at the base of the tree! They were so small that at first, they had escaped notice, but being once seen, their effect upon the picture was magical. The tree rose and rose as we followed up its trunk (from the points where certain definite standards of height were visible), and towered aloft in majestic proportions, till at last the eye, almost wearied with the work of following its solemn shaft, took in the whole stupendous growth, and we felt that we looked indeed upon a grizzly giant. A magnificent pile of vegetation beside which the grandest pines of our eastern hills or plains, were mere pigmies, and beneath whose great far-reaching shadow the noblest oaks of Windsor Park might grow as simple shrubs. Yes, a tempest might be tearing at the topmost boughs of this majestic Monarch of the West, yet the traveller sitting down by its roots, hear only a far-away murmur, and feel only an occasional wind-waft, swaying lightly the smoke that crept up from his kindled camp fire. But this is only one of the many photographic views, which open before us the wonderful Valley whose features far surpass the fancies of the most imaginative poet and eager romancer. The magic of art is here truly exercised for our accommodation and delight. Without crossing the continent by the overland route, in dread of scalping Indians and waterless plains; without braving the dangers of the sea by the Chagres and Panama route; nay, without even the trouble of the brief land trip from San Francisco, we are able to step, as it were, from our study into the wonders of the wondrous Valley, and gaze at our leisure on its amazing features. The first idea suggested is, that the land is all rock. That there is indeed no land, if by land, we mean soil! But there is a supply of stones, sufficient to macadamize the world, cover all continents with granite cities, and then have an abundant supply remaining for Mars or Mercury, supposing that the former little obscure planet, has any need of stones, when its own density is so great that animals living on it must have solid bodies, unless they expect to be crushed with their own weight, or granting that the latter orb, lurid with a heat seven times that of earth, can harbor living things in want of houses or traversable highways. Rocks tower up on all sides — perpendicular, cloud-piercing, prodigious! A rocky basin receiving into its hollow cavity the tide which tumbles down 2630 feet, first in sheets of solid water, then in foam, and then in mist as fine as that which forms a summer cloud; and then again, condensed into its original fluid state, runs and hides itself away, and lies silent and deadly still, in quiet rocky nooks, or in broad and transparent lakes, reflecting the surrounding landscape so perfectly, that substance and shadow are not distinguishable, and a photograph is as good a picture, when looked at upside down, as when viewed in its natural position. This is eminently the case with the splendid photograph of “Mirror Lake.” We were absolutely at a loss at first as to which way we were to hold the print. The clear, sharp figure of woods, and the wonderfully sharp and perfect details of distant rock masses, were all rendered as well by the reflection, as by the real objects represented, and it was only after some study that we saw how the print was to be held and examined. This picture, by the way, of the “Mirror Lake,” is one of such wild and singular beauty, that it would grace the walls of any gallery, and the richest frame which the gilder could prepare for its reception. Rocks lie bedded round the roots of trees; rocks pave the plains and border the brooks; and looking on the landscape which represents the scene visible from the “South Forks,” it seems as if pine forests and hemlock groves, were engaged, like a countless host of school-boys, during holiday hours, in sliding down the smooth and shining surfaces of rock structure. The Valley, however, notwithstanding this preponderance of stony formation, is full of fertility and fragrant vegetable life. Travellers tell us of its sweet grass and countless flowers, varied fruit and abundant fertility; and these photographic views show us that all kinds of leaf life and shrub life and tree life flourish there luxuriantly. The trees, when once we get a clue to their growth and height, are manifestly monsters. Thirty, and even forty feet in diameter seems the measure of the mightiest, and their height, if we rightly calculate it, falls little short of two hundred and fifty feet! What pigmies beside these are our noblest hemlocks! But the impression most vivid, on looking at these splendid photographs, is that of the stupendous size, and amazing perpendicularity of the mountain masses, towering on every side! As to size, we wonder (as we look) that these tremendous heights of solid granite, do not give the world a cant, and make it roll somewhat out of its orbit! And when one measures, even rudely, the real perpendicular height of some of the precipices, he finds that he might count fifty, ere a stone let fall from the brow of its beetling crests, would reach its base and crash into fragments at its foot. “El Capitan as seen from the Valley,” is a wonderful picture in both aspects. Its mass is magnificent and vast beyond expression; it stands up like one of the walls of heaven, and is as upright as it is gigantic. A broad sheet of hazy atmosphere spreads over its face, veiling but not hiding its features, and as the eye slowly follows up the solid wall to its top, where the forests are faintly seen dividing it from the sky, a dizzy sense of danger fills the mind, and we turn for relief to look at the noble pines which fill the middle ground of the landscape. Gazing on these giant rock masses so majestic, so perpendicular, we naturally ask, “How did we ever get among them?” and then, “How shall we ever get out of them?” “Did we descend by means of a balloon? Shall we be able to escape by means of a ladder?” If so, it must be one like that seen in Jacob’s vision, a ladder reaching from earth to heaven! From the accounts of travellers we find that this wonderful Valley is indeed accessible only by two passages, both narrow and difficult, and fit only for foot and horsemen. Thus this strange nook in nature, lies hidden among the great clefts of the giant rocks, with its own climate and characteristic vegetation, so that a man might live a lifetime in its immediate vicinity, and never know of its existence, or knowing, find out how it was to be entered! We hardly know how to leave this superb series of photographic views, which the kindness of Mr. Wilson has enabled us to examine at leisure. No language can adequately describe their variety and beauty. When the great Pacific railroad is finished, we may be able to visit these wonderful scenes for ourselves, but in the meantime we must heartily thank Mr. C. R. Watkins, the photographer whose rare skill and indomitable energy have enabled him to furnish to those who live in this eastern side of the continent, such exquisite views of the wonderful Valley of “Yosemite.”]

1867

Vogel, Dr. H. “Paris Correspondence.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 4:42 (June 1867): 172-174. [“You desire, no doubt, to know how your country is represented in the Exhibition. The Americans do not seem to take much interest in these matters, and we must therefore not be surprised that the space which they occupy in this Exhibition does not stand in any proportion to the size and population of the United States. This refers also to photography. The catalogue mentions the names of 19 American exhibitors, but I have not been able to discover one-half that number. Perhaps the specimens have not arrived yet. Amongst the objects, the moon of Dr. L. M. Rutherfurd and his spectrum, meet with general approval; it is perhaps the most interesting contribution from America, and excites the greatest interest, particularly as there is nothing similar to it here. I saw both of these interesting objects at the Berlin Exhibitions, where Professor Joy had taken them, and it afforded me especial pleasure to discover them here in an out of the way place, and to call the attention of the jury to them. The value of Rutherfurd’s photograph of the lines of the spectrum will be appreciated by any one who has occupied himself with spectral analysis. No less interesting to the astronomer are the splendid photographs of the moon. Professor Schmidt, Athens, published some time ago, a long paper on the disappearance of one of the craters of the moon; this crater is delineated on Lohrmann’s Map of the Moon, published as late as 1830. If Lohrmann was mistaken, it cannot be determined now. If we had a photograph of the moon made in 1830, the question could easily be settled. But the general public care little about the moon, and enjoy more by far the fine landscapes of Watkins, of California. He has exhibited a number of large pictures of the grand mountains and the gigantic vegetation of America. America is still to us a new world, and anything which gives us such a true representation as a photograph, is sure to be looked upon with wondering eyes. Under these circumstances, the photographs of Gardner, in Washington, cannot fail to be looked upon with interest. He gives the portraits of a number of American celebrities, as well as views of Washington City; the latter appear to have been taken with the Zentmayer lens, which I regret is not exhibited. The effect of the views is impaired by the heavy black clouds, and the portraits are too monotonous in position. The position with the arm on the back of the chair is too often repeated. Draper & Husted, Philadelphia, have sent some enlargements marked “untouched.” My opinion about untouched pictures I gave you in my April letter. Williamson, in New York, has also tried himself on enlargements, but with no more success; some of them, however, are well colored. The large portrait photographs of Mr. Gutekunst, of Philadelphia, appear to more advantage; one of them, a praying nun, is really very fine; the artist should, however, by means of the illumination, give more force to the head, and keep other parts more subdued; also a handsome background arrangement would be desirable; such large figures, with a plain background, are apt to appear monotonous. The stereos of Bierstadt deserve special acknowledgment as regards their appearance and elegance; in execution they are the finest productions that I have seen in the stereoscopic line. ‘It was interesting tome to find the American opticians, Willard & Co., represented; they have exhibited a number of portrait lenses which surprised us by the original and practical arrangements of the stops; in place of the heavy brass stop they have taken bone or ebony, and the change in the size of the stops is simply effected by the turning of a screw. I regret that I cannot say anything about the working of these lenses. I have heard much praise of this firm, and should have liked to have examined their instruments practically….” (p. 173).]

Simpson, G. Wharton, M. D. “Photography at the International Exhibition at Paris.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 4:43 (July 1867): 201-204. [“The Great Exhibition now open in the Champ de Mars, in Paris, is, notwithstanding the many singular blunders which have marked its progress, probably the completest display of the world’s art and industry ever brought together. Almost every nation with a distinctive name and character is represented by some of its products. From upwards of twenty of these we have examples of photography. Although there is a singular uniformity of character pervading the results, whether produced in the Ottoman Empire or the American Republic, a few notes made on the spot, on the special characteristics or respective degrees of excellence illustrated, may not be without interest to the readers of the Philadelphia Photographer. As might probably be anticipated in an exhibition in Paris, France undoubtedly takes precedence in the excellence and variety of its display: then follows Prussia, then Austria or Russia. America, I regret to say, is comparatively, poorly represented; and England, although so near a neighbor to France, scarcely better….” p. 201. “   The best American photo’s exhibited, are the portraits of Mr. Gutekunst, which are very fine, round, delicate, and well modelled; they do not, however, from the position in which they are hung, produce all the effect they ought. Extreme delicacy and softness are qualities better appreciated when they can be closely examined, than when they are hung against a wall inaccessible for minute inspection. Mr. Williamson, of Brooklyn, also has some fine portraits. Mr. S. Beer (surely an Englishman), has a frame of very fine stereographs. Mr. Gardner exhibits some views of city scenery, Washington, I believe, which are unfortunately somewhat spoiled by the printing in of skies almost as heavy as the foregrounds. Mr. Rutherfurd’s magnificent moon is exhibited, and his wonderfully perfect photograph of the spectrum lines. Mr. Watkins’s views of California are amongst the finest landscapes exhibited in the building. There are a few more exhibitors, but their contributions do not call for remark. Mr. Notman sends a fine display of his cabinet pictures and fine hunting scenes, but they are hung so high that they cannot receive any justice from inspection in the Exhibition….” p. 202.]

“The Award of Prizes at the Paris Exhibition.” PHOTOGRAPHIC JOURNAL 12:183 (July 16, 1867): 65-68. [“Many communications having been received respecting the awards made by the Jury, we give the following list of the names of the Jurors, together with the awards which were made to English Exhibitors. In nearly every instance the decision of the Jury was unanimous. In continuation, we also print the list of recipients in other countries, taking our information from our contemporaries. The names in the original lists, of all countries, not being classed alphabetically, some exhibitors have claimed a sort of precedence of superiority in rotation as their names occur. This is certainly not the case with the Photographic section. The jurors ( having examined the exhibits in the order in which they were pointed out by the delegates, and each juror having then made his notes, it was convenient to adopt the same order in voting the degree of merit when the decision of the Jurors was finally taken by the President.
Jury International.
 Le Comte Olympe Aguado, France, President.
Nièpce de Saint-Victor, France.
H. Vogel, Docteur, Professeur à l’Academie Polytechnique, Berlin, Prusse et Etats de l’Allemagne du Nord.
A. Melingo, Conseiller Municipal à Vienne, Autriche.
Dr. De Vylder, Ghent, Beige.
W. A. Adams, Etats-Unis.
Dr. Hugh W. Diamond, F.S.A. (suppléant à Lt.-Col. C. Gordon, C.B., R.E.), Grande Bretagne.
The Jurors, in the examination of Lenses and Chemicals, were assisted and advised by Messrs. Davanne, Dubosq, Marten, and Dr. Hoffmann, assisted by the Imperial Commissioners.
The Jurors in Class IX. examined from all countries the exhibits of 720 exposants, to whom 251 awards were recommended, viz: —
Gold                               3
Silver                             46
Bronze                          82
H. M                             120
                                    251
In England the awards -were as follows: —
Silver Medals.
Bedford, F.                               landscapes.
England, W.                              landscapes.
Thompson, Thurston C.             Reproductions and Views in Spain and Portugal.
Robinson, H. P.                         Composition pictures.
Mudd, J.                                   Landscapes by his dry process.
Swan, J. W.                              Carbon process; and Photo-mezzotints.
Woodbury, W. W.                      Process of Photo-relievo-printing.
Dallmeyer, J. H.                        For various Lenses of great excellence, especially for his new
                                                Rectilinear wide-angle lens.
Bronze Medals.
Ross, T.                                    Photographic Lenses.
Cherrill, N. K.                            Specimens in carbon by Swan’s process.
Wortley, Lieut.-Col. Stuart.         Landscapes and Sea-pieces with natural clouds, instantaneous
                                                views, &c.
Heath, Vernon.                          Landscapes &c.
Biggs, Colonel.                          Views in India, architecture of Ahmedabad, &c.
Bourne and Shepherd.               Views in India, temples, antiquities, &c.
Griggs, W.                                Reproduction of native tribes of India, and other interesting
                                                objects exhibited by the India Museum.
Blanchard, Valentine.                 Instantaneous views, studies, &c.
Tod, Captain.                            Roadside scenery &c.
Mayall, J. E.                              Excellent series of enlarged portraits, &c.
Joubert, F.                                Portraits in enamel.
Macfarlane, J. D.                       Views in India, &c.
Meagher, Patrick.                      Cameras and excellent photographic cabinet work.
White, Henry.                            Artistic rustic scenery, &c.
Caldesi, Leonidas.                     Heraldic photographic medallions, &c.
Honorable Mention.
Verschoyle, Colonel                   Various excellent specimens.
Brownrigg, T. M.                        Views in Ireland.
Pouncy, John                            Specimens in carbon.
Cameron, Mrs.                          Artistic photography in novel style.
Beasley                                    Various photographs.
Thompson, Stephen.                 Various photographs.
Wilson, G. W.                            Stereoscopic views.
Swan, Henry                             The crystal cube or casket pictures.
Beau                                        Studies and Portraits.
Hemphill, Dr.                             Studies, views, portraits, &c.
Coghill, Sir Jocelyn J., Bart.       Studies, &c.
Cruttenden                                Views in Kent.
Wardley, W.                              Excellent pictures by a dry-plate process.
Solomon, Joseph                      Magnesium Lamp and various apparatus.
Grisdale, J. E.                           A new washing-apparatus.
Rouch,W. W.                             Chemicals, apparatus, tent, &c.
Thomas, R. W.                          Chemicals, tent, &c.
Johnson, J. R.                           Pantoscopic camera.
Royal Engineers                        Photographs, photolitho-graphs, &c.
Hosmer                                     Portraits, animals, &c.
Cramb Brothers                         Views in the Holy Land.
Hors Concours.
Diamond, Hugh W., M.D., Juror.
                                    _______________________________

The influence of photography has made itself felt in the manufacture of chemicals. Certain substances, such as hyposulphite of soda, which were formerly very rarely employed, and therefore rather expensive, have been so much used in photographic operations as to cause them to be manufactured on a large scale, and thus to reduce their prices to half, one-third, or even one-sixth of their former value. We may mention, also, the sulphocyanides of potassium or ammonium, which were only used before in the chemist’s laboratory, and are now manufactured extensively at the gas works, where large quantities can be obtained from the distillation of coal. Photography has given rise to a considerable trade with foreign countries. Not only are apparatus, paper, and chemicals largely exported, but also stereoscopic views on paper and other materials. Without depreciating the merits of several foreign opticians, justly renowned for the remarkable quality of their apparatus, we believe that French makers can produce those which combine excellence of manufacture with the advantage of comparative cheapness. We must mention, also, numerous and interesting investigations tending towards the improvement of the apparatus for enlarged photographs and panoramic views. Finally we must add that a survey of the various specimens presented to the committee of admission proves that the Exhibition of 1867 will do honour to the admirable and truly French discovery of Nicephore Niepce and Daguerre, which enable all the images of nature and the works of human art to be reproduced by light in so charming and faithful a manner.
Class IX. includes:—1. Photographs on Paper and Glass. 2. Photographic Enamels. 3. Photographs in Printing-ink by the various Processes in Heliographic Engraving or Photolithography. 4. Photographs obtained on Metal or Paper, with the Colours of Nature. 5. Specimens of various Applications of Photography. 6. Apparatus and Woodwork for Photography, Chemicals, and all other Accessories.
French Catalogue.
The Jury consisted of the following: —
Nièpce de St. Victor, France.
L. A. Davanne, France.
L. Robert, France.
Duboscq, France.
Dr. Vogel, Prussia.
Dr. Diamond, Great Britain.
Grand Prix.—M. Garnier, Paris—Heliographic engraving.
Gold Medals.—MM. Tessié du Mothay, and Maréchal, Metz; Lafon de Camersac.
English Department.—Silver Medals.
Bedford                                    Views.
Dallmeyer                                 Triplet object-glass.
England                                    Views.
Mudd                                        Views.
Robinson                                  Landscapes.
Swan                                        Improving carbon-printing.
Thompson, Thurston.                 Views.
Woodbury                                  mode of printing.
English Department.—Bronze Medals.
Blanchard, V.                            Portraits.
Briggs, Col.                               Indian views.
Caldesi                                     Medallion photographs.
Cherrill                                      Carbon prints.
Griggs                                      Indian views.
Bourne and Shepherd.               Indian views.
Joubert                                     Photographic enamels.
Macfarlane                                Landscapes.
Mayall                                       Enlarged portraits.
Meagher                                   Photographic cabinet-work.
Ross, T.                                    Photographic lenses.
Tod                                          Photographs, various.
Heath, Vernon                           Landscapes.
Wortley, Col. Stuart.                  Landscapes.
White                                        Photographs, various.
No fewer than 124 have been awarded “honourable mention,” of whom we only insert the names of the recipients who are connected with this country.
English Department.—Honourable Mention.
Beaslev, Beau, Brownrigg, Cameron, Coghill, Cramb, Cruttenden, Grisdale, Hemphill, Hosmer, Pantascopic Company, Pouncy, Ross (Edinburgh), Rouch, Royal Artillery, Solomon, Swann (Henry), Thomas, Thompson (S.), Verschoyle, Wardley, Wilson.
French Department.—Silver Medals.
Bingham                                   Reproductions.
Soulier                                      Transparencies on glass.
Adam-Salomon                         Portraits.
Placet                                       Heliographic engraving.
Negre                                       Heliographic engraving.
Baldus                                      Heliographic engraving.
Amant-Durand                           Heliographic engraving.
Ferrier                                      Transparencies.
Harlot                                       Objectives.
Braun                                       Carbon prints.
Chevalier                                  Photographic surveying-apparatus.
Jean Renaud                            Views.
Rousset                                    Views.
Lackerbauer                              Microscopic photographs.
Poitevin                                    Photolithography.
Civiale                                      Travelling-apparatus.
Vauvray                                    Portraits.
Gaillard                                     Photographs.
Berthier                                     Photographs, various.
Reutlinger                                 Portraits.
Franck de Villechole.                 Portraits and reproductions.
French Department.—Bronze Medals.
Michelet                                    Reproductions.
Poulance et Wittmann.               Photographic materials.
Relandin                                   Apparatus.
Poitrineau                                 Photo. carriages.
Cousen                                     Enamels.
Duvette                                     Large photographs.
Brettillot                                    Landscapes.
Champion                                 Photographs on China.
Muzet et Joguet                        Various photos.
Marquis de Berenger                 Reproductions.
Leon et Levy                             Stereographs.
Carjat & Co.                              Portraits.
Hennagis                                  Objectives.
Derogy                                     Objectives.
Secretan                                   Objectives.
Mulnier                                     Portraits.
Maxwell Lyte                             Landscapes.
Vilette                                       Transferred collo. prints.
Manthe                                     Heliographic engraving.
Pinel-Pescherdiere.                   Heliographic engravings.
Marville                                     Photographs.
Cuvellier                                   Dry-paper process.
Puech                                       Photographic materials.
Joubert                                     Application of photography to agriculture.
Prussian Department.—Silver Medals.
Busch                                       Objectives.
Loescher and Petsch.                Portraits.
Wigand                                     Portraits.
Schauer                                    Reproductions.
Milster                                      Portraits and reproductions.
Prussian Department.—Bronze Medals.
Beyrich                                     Photographic paper, chemicals, &c.
Schering                                   Photographic chemicals, paper, &c.
Warmbrunn, Quilitz & Co.          Photographic glass vessels, &c.
Kellner & Giessemann.             Photolithography.
Korn & Co.                                Photolithography.
Griine                                       Photographic enamels in gold and silver.
Suck                                         Portraits and architecture.
Remele                                     Landscapes.
Graf                                          Photographs.
H. Graf                                     Portraits.
Austrian Department.—Silver Medals.
Angerer                                    Portraits and reproductions.
Leth                                          Photographs by magnesium light
Pretsch                                     Photographic engraving.
Voigtlander                               Objectives.
Mahleknecht                             Photographs, various.
Baldi & Wurthle                         Landscapes.
Benque                                     Portraits and reproductions.
Permulter (Adele).                     Portraits.
Austrian Department.—Bronze Medals.
Bauer                                       Views and portraits.
Reifenstein                                Photolithography.
Kramer                                     Photographic carriages.
Moll                                          Photographic materials.
Yagemann                                Portraits.
Angerer, V.                               Photographs, various.
Kuss                                         Views.
Tzekely                                     Views.
Knoblech                                  Photozincography.
Widter                                       Historic photographs.
Various Departments.—Silver Medals.
Rutherfurd (New York)               Astronomical photographs
Neydt (Gand)                            Microscopic photographs.
Desrochos (Milan)                     Photo-enamels.
Maya (Venice)                           Reproductions.
Klock & Dubtkiewicz (Warsaw). Views and portraits.
Fierlants (Brussels)                    Reproductions.
Various Departments.—Bronze Medals.
Notman (Montreal)                     Portraits.
Beer (New York)                       Stereographs.
Mandel (Stockholm)                  Photolithographs.
Capt. Piboul (Algeria)                 Photographs taken in the desert.
Borchard (Riga).                        Portraits.
Verveer (Lahaye).                      Photographs.
Garcia (Geneva).                       Landscapes.
B. de Champions (Algeria).        Prints from paper negatives.
Watkins (San Francisco).         Landscapes.
Lotze (Verona).                         Landscapes.
Most & Schroeder (Copenhagen) Photo-enamels.
Constantinous (Greece)             Photographs of ruins.
Dovizelli (Pontifical States).        Photographs, various.
Petersenn (Denmark).               Photographs, various.
Carlevaris (Italy).                       Magnesium light.
Albert (Munich).                         Reproductions.
Sorgato (Venice).                      Various.
Brandtsept (Wurtemburg).          Views.
Martinez (Madrid).                     Enlargements.
Abdullah frères (Turkey)            Panorama of Constantinople.
Sommer (Naples).                     Various.
Simoneau & Toovey                  Photolithographs.
Monckhoven (Gand)                  Apparatus.
Mieczkowski (Warsaw)              Interiors and plants.
Eurenius & Quist (Stockholm).   Portraits.
Steinheil (Munich).                     Objectives of wide angle.”]

“A Photographic Tour of Nearly 9000 Miles.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 4:45 (Sept. 1867): 287-289. [“As photographing on the Plains is becoming more and more fashionable, the following letter will be found most interesting and valuable. — Ed.:
Dear ” P. P.”: Having safely returned from a somewhat prolonged and tedious trip in pursuit of information on matters pertaining to photography, I embrace this opportunity, according to my promise, to give you some account of the trip. I bade adieu to our metropolis of the mountains six months ago, and took coach per the Overland Mail Company, on my trip westward. After leaving Salt Lake Valley and passing a divide, we entered Cedar Valley, where may be seen the ruins of what was Camp Floyd, now called Fort Crittenden. With the exception of the mountain ranges bordering Lake Utah and Salt Lake Valley, but few objects to interest the photographer can be found thus far. As one progresses westward, the country becomes more and more uninteresting, culminating in the Desert — a stretch of land of ninety miles, without water, barren, desolate, and God-forsaken, without a blade of grass or a green thing of any sort. Water for the use of the stations is conveyed in boxes on wagons, from the nearest springs. The tourist in search of landscapes, will find but very few combinations that will make pictures, for the stations are the only objects of particular interest, and a picture of any one of them would be a picture of them all, there is so little difference between them. The country, from the Desert to Austin, Nevada, is a succession of alkali flats and mountain ridges, sparsely covered with cedar. I do not think it possible to secure more than five or six good views in the distance of four hundred miles west from Salt Lake City. At Fish Springs I saw about fifteen Indians basking in the sunshine on a heap of manure. It occurred to me that such a group would be interesting to the admirers of the “noble red men of the forest,” and if I had been prepared, would have secured a negative of such a ” Lay-Out.” Austin, Nevada, is located in a narrow canon, and is a fair specimen of what ” quartz on the brain” can accomplish in a few years. In all these mining towns we may find the representatives of almost every nation. Here the reformed Shoshone Indian saws wood and gets gloriously tight. There the Chinaman does the laundry work, instead of its being done by the ladies, who, by the way, are few and far between in this delightful city, that can neither boast of a gardenov a tree. On every hand you hear the clatter clatter of the stamps pulverizing the silver ore, and the hills on each side of the town are honeycombed by the burrowing miner. “Feet,” “feet,” “feet,” is the universal talk. I found a gentleman of the Teutonic persuasion trying to keep a gallery, sans chemicals, sans books, sans almost everything. It occurred to me that there was a fine chance for a live photographer in that town. I urged the claims of the various photographic publications upon him, and I hope he has profited by the suggestion. Between Austin and Virginia we see constantly the same variety of flats and ridges, unbroken by any scene to please the eye or to suit the lover of the beautiful. Virginia is indeed a remarkable city, and one of the wonders of the great West. Immense structures devoted to mining interests, fine hotels, stores, etc., etc. lit up at night with gas, reminding one of seaboard cities, and a busy moving mass of humanity all absorbed in the great question of mining and its details. There are one or two galleries doing pretty good work and a good business. At Virginia we change stages and take the “Pioneer Stage Company’s” coaches for Placerville. An hour’s drive down hill brings us to Carson City, and from this point there is a gradual ascent to the summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Nature has here atoned for the desolation of the previous six hundred miles, by bringing together everything to charm and delight the tourist photographer. The cedars are exchanged for the giant pines, the flats for the fresh-water lakes, and snow-capped peaks for the barren ridges. We crossed the mountains by a magnificent road, but on descending the Pacific slope we encountered horribly muddy roads, and it will be a long time before I forget the night’s travel before reaching Placerville. As many as twenty times we were invited by the driver to “balance the coach,” first on one side and then on the other, to keep it from falling either into a ravine or a deep gulley in the middle of the road. Of course the railroad will do away with all this, and, instead of being pounded almost to a jelly, we may cross in first-class coaches and hardly know it. From Placerville we drive to Shingle Springs, and thence by railroad to Sacramento City, where we take steamer for San Francisco, generally arriving at the latter place about eight or nine o’clock, p. m. For enterprise and every feature calculated to make a great city, San Francisco (in my opinion), stands next to New York. I believe I shall live to see the day when it will be the second city in the Union. I lost no time in exploring its fine streets and observing its photographic productions. I may say that I was charmed with what I saw. I found many very fine galleries and spirited go-ahead photographers. Here the porcelain picture is known by the poetic appellation of “Sun Pearls.” Every style of work can be obtained equal, with few exceptions, to any work I ever saw. The Philadelphia Photographer was in many of the galleries, and much thought of. Among the most advanced in the photographic art, none stands higher than Mr. E. C. [sic] C. E. Watkins, who has produced, with his camera, results second to none in either the eastern or western hemispheres. I spent many pleasant hours with him, and found him ever ready to communicate information to the ardent photographer. I was somewhat curious to learn his modus operandi for producing his large views in a climate so dry and difficult to work in. After so much attention to photographic ware, porcelain, rubber, and other materials for making baths, I found his to consist of pine wood coated heavily with shellac. In addition to this, he uses the water bath, by means of which he can take a greater number of pictures without losing his chances while the light is good. His negatives are taken, developed, and then placed in the water bath until he is ready to finish them. Just think of carrying such huge baths, glasses, &c., on mule-back, and you can form some idea of the difficulties in the way of producing such magnificent results. In the matter of intensifying, he sometimes uses a very weak solution of bichloride of mercury, washes, then flows with a solution of iodide of potassium of about ten grains to the pint of water. Personally, I have found such a method very serviceable with thin negatives; but it is a very nice point to know when you have applied enough. The rule I adopt in such cases is this: when using the above, I watch for the required intensity as I pour over the iodide solution. When sufficient is poured on, wash, then dry; it will become more intense. By coating with flint varnish, it will bring it to its previous condition before drying. It works best for over-exposed negatives; and for dense foliage nothing is better. I do not wish to recommend this method as preferable to the old one of intensifying before fixing with pyro and citric acid and silver, but in some cases where a negative may be too thin after fixing, it can be advantageously applied. You may perhaps say that it would be better not to intensify at all, but different men have different modes of operating, and in every case where the results were beautiful, I did not find two men who worked precisely alike. Great quantities of Mr. Watkins’s pictures are sold in the Eastern States and Europe, as well as in California. Messrs. Lawrence & Houseworth publish some very fine stereoscopic views, and the galleries of Messrs. Bradley & Rulofsen, Shew, Selleck, and many others, are equal in appointments and style of work to those of first-class galleries in the Eastern States. From San Francisco I took the P. M. Company’s steamer for Panama, thence by rail to Aspinwall, and from there to New York. As this route is more familiar to many of your readers than the overland trip, I pass by in silence the many scenes incidental to such a journey, and would merely say that any devotee of the dry process may obtain a few views at Acapulco, Panama, and Aspinwall, if he is well prepared. Such views would be very interesting, and would repay the trouble of obtaining them. Everything to be used should be condensed as much as possible, and none but a first-class passenger should attempt it. At Aspinwall there is a fine one-horse gallery. Being unwell, I did not see the photographer, but, from the specimens exhibited, I inferred that he had much to learn. (To be continued.)” p. 289.]

1868

“Yosemite Valley. (Concluded from page 733.)” FRIENDS’ REVIEW; A RELIGIOUS, LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS JOURNAL 21:48 (July 25, 1868): 758-759. [“Down the valley opposite Tutochanulah is the fall known as the Bridal Veil, so named on account of its thin, gauze-like appearance in the late autumn. To us it is much more than a veil, the stream shooting out over a projecting cliff and falling in a gentle curve–the true line of beauty–to the rocks nine hundred feet below. The volume of water is… To-day we have paid a visit to Mirror Lake… When the air is still in the early part of the day the lake is like a mirror, and reproduces everything above it with most perfect distinctness. Photographs have been taken in which the reflection was so complete that it was impossible to distinguish the top of the picture from its bottom….The number of visitors to the Yosemite is annually increasing. In 1864 there were only a hundred persons,… nearly four hundred in 1865, and the increase has continued every year… excursions were being arranged in San Francisco… The journey is tedious, difficult and expensive,…”]
“Ideality and Sublimity.” AMERICAN PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL AND LIFE ILLUSTRATED: A REPOSITORY OF SCIENCE, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE 48:2 (Aug. 1868): 60-61. [(Background. Article begins with dictionary definitions of the two terms, briefly discusses the concepts in terms of phrenology, then publishes excerpts from the New York Evening Post about the Yosemite Valley, hearings on which were then before the U. S. Congress. These include an extended description of the valley by Frederick Law Olmstead.) ‘The union of the deepest sublimity with the deepest beauty of nature, not in one feature or another, not in one part or one scene or another, not in any landscape that can be framed by itself, but all around and wherever the visitor goes, constitutes the Yo Semite the greatest glory of nature. No photograph or series of photographs, no paintings ever prepare the visitor so that he is not taken by surprise,…’ …When the Great Atlantic and Pacific Railway shall be finished across the Rocky Mountains, we propose to visit the Yo Semite and look on those grandeurs so eloquently described above. Let no American boast of sight-seeing in foreign lands till he has seen the Yo Semite. Hurry up the railway, Californians! Get things ready. There will be a ‘big crowd’ to see the big things you have for exhibition!”]

“Art Beginnings on the Pacific. II.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 1:2 (Aug. 1868): 113-119. [“The year 1862 is notable in the modest Art annals of San Francisco for the first appearance of a number of painters, who have since done much to increase public taste for the fine arts, and who have laid the foundations of a promising local school. Foremost among these we may rank J. B. Wandesforde, a cultivated English artist,… S. M. Brookes… Thomas Hill… Virgil M. Williams…
“.. In 1864 Albert Bierstadt, accompanied by Fitzhugh Ludlow. Hill and Williams were of his party when he visited Yosemite… Some of his smallest oil sketches in Yosemite give a better idea of its vast dimensions than even the superb photographs of Watkins, or the most carefully finished paintings of other artists… (p. 114)…”1862 visited by E. W. Perry… (Others, including a Mrs. H. M. Gibson and a Miss Swain, mentioned.) “During the long period in review there had generally been several engravers and lithographers at work in San Francisco. The first wood engraver…Hyatt, who did some cuts early in 1849. Harrison Eastman arrived in September 1849… (Discusses several engravers and lithographers.)…“Photography may be mentioned as a handmaid of the fine arts, for the transcripts of scenery, architecture and art objects which it furnishes, are often valuable as guides and suggestors. The clear atmosphere of California is extremely favorable to landscape photography, and Watkins has made a wide reputation by his splendid series of large views in the Yosemite Valley. A new series along the Columbia River, recently taken, is equally fine…” (p. 116) (Describes an exhibition.) “In 1864 our resident artists had the best opportunity which had ever been presented to come into close relations with the public. The Mechanic’s Institute, which held that year its first Fair since 1858, erected an addition to the main exhibition building,… provided every convenience for an art display as a separate and honored department. The walls were covered with paintings, drawings, sketches, photographs, and engravings, and for several weeks the rooms were thronged night and day…” (Describes contents and participants of the exhibition. Formation of a California Art Union in 1865, which failed after a year. Mentions younger California painters.)]

1869

“V. Miscellaneous Bibliography.” AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE AND ARTS ns 48:142 (July 1869): 148-152. [“1. The Yosemite Guide Book; A description of the Yosemite valley and the adjacent region of the Sierra Nevada, and of the Big Trees of California. 156 pp. large 8vo, illustrated by maps and woodcuts. Geological Survey of California, J. D. Whitney, State Geologist. Published by authority of the Legislature,— Prof. Whitney has here prepared a model Guide Book, worthy of the State of California and of the remarkable region it illustrates. After general observations on the physical features of California, he treats with much detail of the valley which is the special subject of the work. The routes to the valley and the Big Trees, are given with much detail and other information indispensable to the traveler. He then describes in a graphic style the grand scenery along the routes, the lofty precipices, peaks and waterfalls, mentioning the modes of access to each, and whatever is of popular or scientific interest along the way, closing this chapter with observations on the origin of the wonderful valley. The High Sierra, the Alps of California as sometimes called, where there are traces of ancient glaciers of vast extent and probably the highest mountain peaks of the Continent north of Mexico, is the subject of the next chapter; and here also there is that combination of special practical information with regard to routes, grand descriptions of scenery, and able discussions of the physical geography and geological structure of the region which could be given only by Prof. Whitney, the Geologist of the California Survey. The highest summit was first ascended by Clarence King and named by him Mount Whitney: he found the height of the point he reached 14,740 feet, with 300 or 400 feet of inaccessible rocks still above him. (See this Jour., xxxix, 10.) The work contains two admirable maps, one, of the part of the Sierra Nevada adjacent to the Yosemite valley, from surveys made by Charles L. Hoffman and James T. Gardner, the other, of the Yosemite valley itself, from surveys by Clarence King and J. T. Gardner. The maps are minute in their details of this mountain region, but not more so than is warranted by the thoroughness of the surveys. The volume is published in elegant style, and illustrated by numerous woodcuts representing with great beauty the remarkable scenery of the region. The cuts are from among those used in the first volume of Prof. Whitney’s Report on the Geology of California. The Guide Book has also been issued in quarto form with photographic illustrations.” pp. 148-149. “….Publications of the Geological Survey of California.—The publications of the Geological Survey of California issued up to this date, or nearly ready, are as follows:—…
The Yosemite Guide-book. A work in one volume, 8vo, elegantly printed, and illustrated with wood-cuts (taken from Geology, volume 1), and two elaborate topographical maps of the region described, namely the Yosemite Valley and its surroundings. Price in cloth, with maps in pockets, $5.00. The Yosemite Book. Nearly the same text as that of the Guide-Book, and with the same maps; but superbly printed in 4to form with 28 photographs by Watkins, taken expressly for this volume, of which the edition is strictly limited to 250 copies. Only a few copies still on hand. Price, in half morocco binding, gilt edges, $30.00.” p. 152.]

Wilkinson, T. Warring. “Our Art Possibilities.” OVERLAND MONTHLY AND OUT WEST MAGAZINE 2:3 (Mar. 1869): 248-254. “During a remarkably cool summer, some years ago, an honest Hibernian in New York accosted a fellow countryman with a “good day” and “did ye’es iver see such a summer as this before?”
“Yes,” said he. “Whin?” says Pat. “Last winther.” What was a characteristic bull, or if you choose a jeu d’esprit, in Manhattan, becomes a meteorological statement in San Francisco, and aptly illustrates that equability of the climate of this coast which has no parallel except perhaps in Honolulu; where, however, the mean temperature of the coolest month-January—is a dozen degrees higher than the mean temperature of San Francisco’s hottest month-September. Old Californians enjoy the tempered sunshine of their cloudless days; are enamored of it as a lover is of a mistress whose secret power he does not care to investigate. Joyfully they welcome the winter rain which annually repeats the classic fable of Danæ and the shower of gold, and fructifies the earth with all beautiful forms of vegetable life: yet few realize the full significance of this low-registered, equable climate, or its bearing on the welfare of the State…” (p. 248) (Etc., etc.) “…The habits, pursuits, and modes of (p. 252) thought of a people are to a great extent moulded by climatic and topographical phenomena, and even theology at times takes its cue from the thermometer. In the north of Europe hell is represented as a place of extreme cold. Sir Walter Scott tells of a Scotch clergyman who, on a wintry Sabbath, threatened his congregation with everlasting torments in thick-ribbed ice. Being taxed with the heretical tendencies of such a version, the crafty Caledonian replied: “I’d no try to scare sinners this cauld weather by making them think about a hot fire.” These phenomena, by their suggestions, directly affect the artist. Thoreau remarks that October has tinged all the poetry of New England; and certainly, not less has painting felt the warmth and color of its golden days. During a visit at the last exhibition of the New York Academy of Design, one could not fail to note how many subjects were derived wholly or in part from phenomena peculiar to winter and autumn-seasons for instance that are literally unknown in Western California. Jervis McEntee, who delights so much in autumnal woods, and the dolce far niente days of the Indian summer, would here find little subject for his specialty; and such features introduced into our local Art can only be reminiscences of other lands, which misrepresent the sentiment of our scenery. Unlike the proud queen, who on the approach of death arrayed herself in coronation robes and the insignia of office to meet the King of Terrors in a manner befitting her rank, Nature here dies in russet-brown, not by violence of frost and storm, but by seeming inanition. No snowy shroud hides the face of the poor starveling, and even the gossamer veil of air is thinner than elsewhere. This clear, translucent quality of the atmosphere imparts a hard realism to our scenery that often betrays the artist into mere copyism. It is a fatal mistake to suppose that imitation is the end of Art. Were it so, the photographer would rank the painter, and as M. Taine remarks, the best tragedy or comedy would be a stenographic report of the police court. There is an essence in nature as there is a soul in man, which is not represented in the photograph. “Back of all speech that is worth anything,” says Goethe, “there is a silence which is better.” To get at this silence in man, this essential in Nature, is the endeavor of true Art. We need not tell the frequenters of our picture shops that no such interpreter has yet risen. We have the infinite sea-now moaning in sorrow, now thundering in wrath at our very doors. Where is the Bradford to fathom its mystery? We have the Sierras, wrinkled and furrowed all over with memories of the seething fire-time; mountain clefts, vast and almost fathomless, over whose battlements snow-fed streams, rushing in white frenzy, dissolve into fancies of Kuhleborn, and fall with a patter of rain suggestive of leaves rather than of water. Who will forestall Bierstadt in rendering them? We have trees hoar with the life of unknown centuries, and likely to outlive the mythic New Zealander, who is yet to sketch the ruins of St. Paul. Who will offer us something in Art more than suggestions of commercial values and lumber yards?Watkins has, with commendable patience and enthusiasm, given us the literal features of our finest scenery. Who will give us its poetry? Almost everything in California is fresh and virgin for the purposes of Art. Not only are the mountains new in type and structure, but the flora of the State is unique. The hackneyed maple, elm, beech, and hickory are exotic here, but in their place are found characteristic oaks, the lustrous red-barked madroño, the laurel and sycamore; and beyond, dwelling apart from man and his littleness, the pines-“the builders of the sword,” as Ruskin fancifully styles them (p. 253)…” (Etc., etc.)]

1870

“Bibliographie.“ LE GLOBE. JOURNAL GÉOGRAPHIQUE ORGANE DE LA SOCIÉTÉ DE GÉOGRAPHIE DE GENÈVE 9: 1 (Janvier -Février 1870): 60-86. [Book review. The Yosemite Book. . . . Le livre de la vallée de Yosémité. Extrait de l’exploration géologique de la Californie, par J. D. Whitney.
“…M. Low, Gouverneur de l’état de Californie, prit immédiatement possession des deux districts concédés, nommant des commissaires chargés de leur entretien, et interdisant pour l’avenir tous dégâts et toute coupe de bois. Une carte de la vallée de Yosémité fut immédiatement levée par M. Gardner, sur une échelle assez grande pour indiquer les moindres détails topographiques de la vallée de Yosémité. Elle se trouve annexée au présent volume. Cette concession de terres et ses réserves nous semblent faire le plus grand honneur au sens qui distingue la race anglo-saxonne et les Américains autant qu’aucun de leurs congénères et les rend admirateurs des beautés de la nalure. Dans la législature californienne un acte fut passé pour accepter avec toutes ses clauses la concession fédérale. Il y était en ouire enjoint au géologue de l’Etat, d’en compléter l’exploration géographique et géologique, d’en publier une carte et une description, en indiquant les facilités et les travaux nécessaires pour rendre accessibles au public les beautés de la vallée de Yosémité. En conséquence de ce décret, une Commission composée de MM. King, Whitney, Gardner, Bolander et Brinley, travailla sur le terrain, de Juin à la fin d’Octobre de l’année 1866, dans la région des sources des (p. 61) toute la partie supérieure de la Sierra Nevada comprise entre 37° 30′ et 38° de latitude septentrionale, et dont l’accès est plus facile depuis la vallée de Yosémité. L’achèvement de ce travail construit sur l’échelle de deux pouces pour un mille, nécessita encore la coopération de M. l’ingénieur Hoffmann, pendant les mois d’Août et de Septembre de l’année 1867, et la carte fut mise entre les mains du graveur au printemps de 1868.
La Commission exploratrice a eu la bonne forlune de s’adjoindre deux photographes, M. W. Harris el sur tout M. C.-E. Watkins déjà connu par la publication d’une collection de vues des côtes californiennes de l’Océan Pacifique. Parmi la série nombreuse des vues photographiées par ces artistes l’auteur en a choisi 28, dont 24 exécutées par M. Watkins, et en a fait, dans la rédaction du Yosémité Book le complément de la description de la carte; complément, avouons-le, qui lui donne une valeur inestimable. Mais, comme M. Watkins n’a consenti à en céder qu’un nombre restreint d’épreuves, cet ouvrage n’a été tiré qu’à 250 exemplaires, d’un prix excessivement élevé, nombre qui est bien plus restreint aux Etats-Unis qu’il ne le paraîtrait en France, où le public soutient la librairie d’un concours beaucoup moins généreux et moins général que ne le font les Américains.
Sur ce petit nombre de 250 exemplaires du Yosémité Book, auxquels aspiraient trente millions d’Américains, amis de la lecture, un a passé l’Océan, pour ètre offert å la Société de Gécgraphie de Genève, par un de ses plus zélés membres correspondants, M. F. Berton, i San Francisco. Ce don généreus mérite de notre part (p. 62) (Etc., etc.)]

“The Valley of the Grisly Bear.” ART JOURNAL (Aug. 1, 1870): 252. [“Among the subtle delicacies, and fixed, though invisible, limits, that hem in the operations of the photographer, none is more marked than the influence of the purity of the atmosphere. It is therefore not surprising that in a mountain valley, 4,000 feet above the level of the sea, and 150 miles, in a direct line, from the nearest smoke-producing centre, photographic landscapes may be produced of a beauty unknown elsewhere. But even the most experienced photographers have expressed astonishment at the sight of a set of sun-pictures taken in the Yosemite Valley, or Valley of the Grisly Bear, with which we have been favoured by a valued American correspondent. The scenery in question lies 150 miles, as the crow flies, south-east of San Francisco. To visit it, however, the tourist must make a long detour of 250 miles through the region of the Sierras. Upwards of sixty miles of “stageing,” and forty of horseback, must be undertaken before the only entrance to this valley is reached; the pathway ascending to the height of 7,000 feet. The bottom of the valley is 4,000 feet above the sea level; and its walls are in some places nearly a mile in height. During the winter months access is impossible; and as late as June the snow still lingers about the mountain-paths. From June to October pilgrimages to the spot are in progress.
It is not within the power of language to convey to the mind a just idea of the unrivalled grandeur of this secluded valley. Views and written dimensions might each be thought to apply to a locality in Jupiter, or some equally colossal planet. In one of the photographs before us, we have the base of a lofty coniferous tree, which shoots tip to the height of six times that of the hunter standing by its roots, sheer off the page; and seems, at that point, to be only shaking itself clear of the ground. It is upwards of 200 feet in height, and 30 feet in diameter. It rises up for 90 feet with scarcely a perceptible diminution of girth, and then sends out a branch 6 feet across in itself. This colossal tree is known by the appropriate name of “the grisly giant.” The stem of this vegetable monster is a photographic marvel, credible on no less authentic evidence than that of the sun.
Another photograph represents a wide and wild valley, watered by a rock-bound stream, and presenting no symptoms of human habitations but a white-washed cottage, a rough-andready railway track, and a curving line of vertical rods, which prove to be the poles of the electric telegraph. Range after range of mountains tower beyond; and a snow-clad summit soars in the extreme distance, that seems to mock the utmost skill of the lineengravers to match. The purity of the atmosphere, the cloudless sky, the aerial perspective of the extensive view, the bold outline and rich shades of the vertical rock that rises like a watcli-tower to the left, make this triumph of sun-painting as noble as a picture as it is unrivalled as a photograph.
Again we have a scene in the valley. The river lies limpid and tranquil at our feet. The foliage is so distinct, that a botanist may identify the trees and plants. A “snag,” rising from an eddy, tells that the sleeping stream can wake in fury. Beyond, the rocky wall of the valley towers up with a sheer precipice, rising to the vertical height of 3,000 feet. The poetic contrast of the calm of the stream, the graceful play of the foliage, and the stern grandeur of the barren rock, makes a Cyclopean idyll of the view.
Another print gives us the Pokono, the “water-fall of dread” to the Indian, full of wild tradition. The name signifies “an evil spirit whose breath is fatal.” ‘The white man has given this unrivalled “force” the tender name of “the bridal veil.” It makes a single leap from the summit of 630 feet; dissolving, or rather expanding, as it falls, into a column of spray. Collecting on the rocks, it laughs and plays in a new cascade of 300 feet more, before it joins the silver river Merced, which traverses the valley. This beautiful cataract, however, is but a child in comparison to the Yosemite fall, or Cholooke, which is upwards of half-amile in height, taking a first bound of 1,550 feet without a break or check. It finds a halting-place only to leap a second, and then a third, time in its descent to the valley, through which it rushes at a depth of 2,540 feet from the brink over which it first fell.
We must not attribute to Mr. Watkins, the successful photographer of these magnificent views, credit for the purity of the atmosphere, which has allowed such unusual clearness of definition, any more than for the grandeur of the scenes themselves. But in all that has depended on human Art, he has been most successful—especially in the selection of pictorial points of view, as well as in all the delicate manipulation which is necessary to give free scope to the magic chemistry of light. Between the wonders of nature and the skill of man, we have certainly before us in these views of the Yosemite Valley, the finest photographs that have been seen in Europe. It is no small satisfaction to us to be able to bear this testimony to the work of an American artist. To the lover of nature, in her most sublime aspects, as well as to the collectors of what is most rare and perfect in photography, we can recommend no higher treat, than will be procured by the purchase of Mr. Watkins’ photographs of the Valley of the Grisly Bear.”]

“Minor Topics of the Month.” ART JOURNAL (Sept. 1, 1870): 289-291. [“Mr. Albert Bierstadt is well-known to lovers of Art in this country as the painter of pictures which the large area of canvas which they cover is the least alignment for terming great. So colossal and grandiose are the natural features of the country which he has, by right of prior artistic occupation, made his own, that many persons, familiar only with the Alpine, or Pyrenean scenery of Europe, have half suspected him of heightening his peaks, and deepening his chasms, and throwing an imaginative magnificence over his landscapes. The very remarkable photographs of the Valley of the Grisly Bear, to which we called attention in our last number, have this merit in addition to those on which we commented—they bear unexceptionable witness to the fidelity of Mr. Bierstadt’s works.” (p. 291)]

1871

[Advertisement.] “Stereoscopic Views: Watkin’s Photographic Gallery.” CALIFORNIA MAIL BAG 1:3 (Aug. 1871): advertising section, p. xxviii.]

“Industrial Fair: The Eighth Industrial Exhibition of the Mechanic’s Institute: Photos.” CALIFORNIA MAIL BAG 1:3 (Aug. 1871): li, liv. b & w. [This section, pp. xxxii ‑ li of the magazine, is actually a catalog of the exposition and it may have also been issued as a separate off‑print. The catalog is divided into categories: “California Wine, Quicksilver Furnace,” etc. Photographers mentioned are G. D. Morse, Bradley & Rulofson, Watkins. A separate “Supplementary Catalogue: Compiled for the ‘Mail Bag’ is on pp. lv ‑ lvi.]

Towler, Prof. J., M. D. “Practical Landscape Photography.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 8:95 (Nov. 1871): 352-354.During the month of September I had the good fortune and pleasure of meeting my friend T. C. Roche; shall I append the title, Esquire? or leave simply the unsophisticated name? Plain T. C. Roche looks best, because I know the man; his merit is within, and not extraneous; his work is his Doctor’s Degree. My friend had just returned from the Yosemite on the Merced River, county of Mariposa, Cal., where he had been transferring to the stereoscope those lofty precipices and giddy cascades, of whose grandeur and magnificence the mind can form but a faint conception from typographical description. “Watkins was the first, I believe, to photograph the scenery in the Yosemite Valley, and his large views are unsurpassed in excellence of workmanship, and taste of position. Muybridge came next and brought forth grand results. Friend Bierstadt, of Niagara Falls, followed suit He too is a master-hand in the photographic art, and has taste; his stereoscopic views are in the hands of all true lovers of the grand and the beautiful; and now that Roche has been on the ground, I would advise all magnates, potentates, imperial dignitaries, and corrupt statesmen to bespeak a complete set of their views They will act like the balm of Gilead on their hypertrophied conceits, and teach them that the scenes of nature are far ahead of all their financial conceptions. I spent two or three days with Mr. Roche in the Watkin’s Glen, at the head of Seneca Lake; he came on purpose to take stereographs of this ravine, whose reputation is just beginning to get a firm foothold on the public sentiment. For years I have been trying to make all friends of scenic grandeur believe that this region of the lakes Seneca and Cayuga presents titbits of beauty and magnificence not surpassed by the Alpine ravines, not even by the valley of the Merced. Mr. Roche himself confesses to the superiority of these glens for the stereoscope over all that he has seen, either on the Pacific or the Atlantic coast. His judgment has weight. I am permitted to describe the whole process of making a negative on the field, as practiced by my friend.
 Collodion. The collodion which he uses, he prepares as follows:
Alcohol,                        8 oz.
Ether,                           8 oz.
Gun-cotton,                   96 grs.
Iodide of Ammonium,    40 grs.
Iodide of Cadmium,       40 grs.
Bromide of Cadmium,    48 grs.
This collodion is for the gallery, that is, for portraiture; for the field, he adds 24 grains more of a bromide. The glass used by Mr. Roche is of excellent quality, flat, and free from flaws; but he does not albumenize the plates, which is an evident proof of itself that he bestows much labor and care in cleaning them; for failure in a plate is something I did not observe.
Silver Solution. The bath solution is filtered in the morning before he starts for the scene of action. He is very particular to keep this in good working condition, for he ascribes nearly all the defects in the negative to some untoward condition of the silver solution. The solution is filtered into a large bottle, and kept there until required for a day’s work, it is then poured into the ordinary rubber bath furnished with an air-tight lid, held fast by screw-clamps Before he employs a new rubber bath, he washes the inside thoroughly with a solution of potash or soda, which removes the grease still adhering to the walls” of the vessel; he then washes it carefully with water to remove the alkali. “When the vessel is quite dry, he pours into it a sufficient quantity of negative varnish, and by tilting the bath, he causes the varnish to cover every part of the inside, which is intended to receive the silver solution; the excess of varnish is poured back into the bottle from which it was taken. As soon as the varnish is completely dry, the bath is ready to receive the silver. By this treatment there will be no trouble in the shape of fortification curves, and specks, &c, of reduced silver, which invariably occur when a new rubber bath is used for the first time or two without such treatment.
Developer. The developer in use is simply the ordinary iron developer, with the addition of a small proportion of sugar candy, and without alcohol. This developer produces a rich bloom on the film, a very slight roseate hue which gives a very pleasing negative, and all the intensity that may be required. Mr. Roche is averse, and properly so, to redevelopment, which in stereographs never fails to produce snowy patches when viewed in the stereoscope. The ignorant and uninitiated, it is true, are better pleased with strong contrasts, and are very apt to select the worst pictures; but the artist and those accustomed to the use of the stereoscope invariably select photographs full of detail well developed, and free from blanched patches of any kind. Now, whilst I am just discussing this subject, it may be a pertinent question for any one to put: How are such artistic negatives to be taken? There are two conditions absolutely necessary in all cases where foliage, rocks, buildings, and water are to be photographed together, which are: the light must be diffused, that is, the sun must be behind a cloudy sky, and the exposure must be long. In this way the development is easy, and being under control, can be stopped at the proper time.
Exposure. Our readers, at least some of them, will be surprised to learn that the length of exposure, in order to produce in the Watkin’s Glen an artistic negative, must seldom be less than five minutes for an aperture of a quarter of an inch, and in very many instances it has to be increased to ten, and even fifteen minutes. The same length of time will naturally be required in all similar deep ravines. Knowing this fact, I have abandoned all hopes of getting good results with dry plates in such dark nooks; and, furthermore, I am convinced that there is a limit at which attenuated light ceases to act on the sensitive film at all, and that this limit of attenuation is sooner reached for a dry plate than for a wet plate. Mr. Roche, accustomed as he is to outdoor photography, can soon judge from the brightness of the picture on the ground-glass, how long the exposure must be — his first exposure was a little more than three minutes (rather long for a wet plate, you will say, especially on a bright morning in August and September), but this was not enough; his second plate, therefore, he exposed nearly five minutes. The picture was all right, and he did not vary the length until he changed his location after dinner, where the light was less powerful — here he gave eight minutes’ exposure, which was scarcely sufficient, although the negative was tolerably good, and, I think, irreproachable; he afterwards increased the exposure to ten minutes, and finally, towards four o’clock, had to abandon the operation for the day — the light ceased to act from the dark rocks! There is one curious fact which I must relate here: when Mr. Roche was about to start on his expedition to the Yosemite Valley, and the saints in Utah, he focussed his lenses in New York and had never varied since, that is, he kept his camera at full cock all the way. He had two pair of lenses, one for all ordinary work — a pair of Dallmeyer’s view lenses, which I do not think can be surpassed in efficiency; he had also a pair of Busch’s lenses, little bits of things, apparently more suitable for a microscope than for photographic purposes; these he used when driven into very close quarters. Their focal length is about one inch and a half, or, perhaps, two inches; but they will take a sharp picture much larger than is required for the stereograph. Such a pair of lenses is invaluable, indispensable in several positions in the glens in this region of New York State.”]

1872

Whitney, Prof. J. D. “State Geological Survey.” OVERLAND MONTHLY 8:1 (Jan. 1872): 79-87. [“Every two years the State Geologist is brought before the Legislature of California and the bar of public opinion, to give an account of himself, whether his works be good or evil….” (p. 79) “…By special direction of the Legislature of 1866-7, a Guide-book of the Yosemite Valley and its Surroundings was issued in 1869, in two distinct editions: one, a superb quarto – intended to be a masterpiece of printing – illustrated with (p. 85) twenty-eight photographs, by C. E. Watkins; the other in octavo form, also beautifully printed and illustrated with wood-cuts, and large and accurate topographical maps of the region described. The quarto edition is limited to 250 copies, which are sold by subscription, and the receipts used for carrying on the work of the survey. A third edition of this guide-book was published recently, in pocket form, to meet the often-expressed desire of travelers for something portable and cheap…” (p. 86)]

1873

“Berlin Photographic Society.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 20:686 (June 27, 1873): 306-307. [“At the second April meeting of this Society (Dr. Vogel in the chair) the most important matter brought forward was the Secretary’s report for the past year. He began by paying a tribute to the former Secretary, Herr Hartmann, and then passed on to detail the transactions of the year. The Society had held twenty meetings during its course, and the benefit accruing from them was in every way very great….” (p. 306) (Etc., etc.)
“…Herr Prang, of Boston, had forwarded a series of stereoscopic views of San Francisco and California, comprising two views of Utah and the line of the Pacific Railroad. The Mormon photographs were by a Mr. Savage, and those of California by Mr. Watkins. They were greatly admired, and excited much interest….” (p. 306) (Etc., etc.)]

1 b & w (Meteorite) on p. 19 in: “Art. IV.-On the Meteoric Iron found near Shingle Springs, Eldorado County, California; by B. Silliman.” AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE AND ARTS. 3RD s. 6:31(July 1873): 18-22.
[“(Read before the National Academy of Sciences, Washington, April, 1873.) “
“An Eldorado meteoric mass was found by the writer in March, 1872, in the cabinet of Mr. W. H. V. Cronise, of San Francisco, where it was placed by its discoverer, Mr. James H. Crossman, who in 1871 rescued it from the forge of a smith at Shingle Springs, California. It was found in 1869 or ’70, in a field belonging to the same smith, about half a mile from the town named. It is said to be the first meteoric mass discovered in California. Mr. C. F. Watkins of San Francisco has photographed this specimen of the natural size, and from this photograph the accompanying figure has been reduced to one-third the linear dimensions of the original.
The mass was intact when I first saw it, and weighed about eighty-five pounds avoirdupois. It was flattened upon one side and presented the usual familiar features of iron meteors. It has since been cut in several sections, one of which (which was (p. 18) exhibited with this communication) shows a cross section measuring 12×18 centimeters. The section is approximately a semicircle, having the flattened side for its diameter, with the outline and exterior coating perfectly preserved on all sides. Its weight was over 800 grams. The largest dimensions of the entire mass were about 24 and 29 centimeters.
This meteoric mass is remarkably homogeneous in structure and singularly free from included minerals. Only two very small masses of pyrites, of 3 and 5 millimeters diameter, are visible on one side of the slab, and exteriorly I could detect no heterogeneous substance. When the surfaces of the section exhibited were reduced in the planing machine, it was observed that the exterior or crust was so much harder than the general surface of the section as to cause the tool to rise a little, thus leaving a distinct margin slightly elevated above the adjacent parts, and of a whiter color. This hardened crust had a depth of four to five millimeters.
The density of this iron, determined on a mass of over 750 grams in weight, is 7.875, while the density of the shavings cut by the planing tool from the same mass is 8-024, showing a condensation of 0.149 by this mechanical process. This density (of the mass) is above the average specific gravity of meteoric iron, owing probably to its large percentage of nickel, which, a (p. 19) (Etc., etc.)]

HELLER, LOUIS HERMAN. (1839‑1928) (GERMANY, USA)
[“The Modoc Indians: Captain Jack and his Braves.” FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER 36:928 (July 12, 1873): 277. (11 portraits credited “From a Photograph by C. F. [sic E.] Watkins, San Francisco.” These photos credited to C. E. Watkins, but research shows them to have been made by Louis Heller.)]

“Photography at Vienna. No. I.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 20:689 (July 18, 1873): 340. [“The incoherent arrangement of the Exhibition at Vienna is a serious drawback to any attempts to draw lessons from it, and any comparative estimates of the value of work of different nations must be taken with the allowances due to the difference of weather and light, lapse of time, and even fatigue in getting from one collection to another, the collections being scattered along a space of half-a-mile—and a weary half-mile too, as any one will attest who has made the attempt to go the rounds. A curious friend of mine made it with a pedometer in his pocket, and found the space traversed in
 making the circuit of the main hall, with its galleries, to be about four miles. Who can start from the Greek photographs in the east and arrive at the American in the west with the faintest wish ever to look at a photograph again!
This geographical idea of arrangement is not one of the least faults of the Exhibition, and has neither the merit of ingenuity, simplicity, or novelty to recommend it. It is all very fine for listless visitors, who wander through the Exhibition at the rate of so many transepts the da}% and do not care whether the next thing that their eyes encounter is an India shawl or a statue of Venus in the best toilet soap. They may like the hash; but for people who go for solid information—critics of specialisms above all—the effort to digest the incredible mass of ocular experiences, and bring only what they want out of it (photography, for instance), is almost too great to be made under any regimen possible to Vienna at present prices of living.
But to people who enter where most visitors do, at the great western portal, the Exhibition puts a good photographic face forward; for the American transept, the first at the right, opens its attractions with a fine display of portraits of all styles, stereo, views, and large landscapes; and as the public begin there, I will also take the west in the freshness of the season. Kurtz has a very fine screen of portraits, from a life-sized crayon retouch of Professor Morse to cartes de visite. The majority of the exhibit is composed of photographs so much retouched that the photographer is lost in the handwork; in some, indeed, the latter is so dominant that photography has evidently gone to the wall, and they show, not what the photographer can do, but what he need not do. This is the more to be regretted, as in a single frame of untouched heads he has contributed what I must regard as the best portraiture in the Exhibition. And the superabundant retouching in the others might be regarded as an indication that good pure photography was not so much in his view, but that in a majority of cases he had to employ the pencil to help him out. The worst of these cases of combination of the arts is that the contribution of the painter is invariably inferior work, and betrays the mechanist in every touch; while the virtue of good photography is that the manipulation never appears, and the hardness and unnaturally-modelled-up look of the head is a flagrant contradiction to the essential qualities of photography. The American portraits generally fall under the same censure of being extravagantly retouched. Some larger portraits by Van Loo, of Cincinnati, are quite as objectionable; and it is impossible to say what his pictures were originally, so thoroughly are they remodelled. Rocher, of Chicago, has some full lengths in the same vein, with the additional objection that the taste in arrangement is not by any means equal to the average of his countrymen’s work. His groups are not well grouped, and his single figures are posed with a degree of consciousness, and even awkwardness, which is not at all up to the standard of artistic feeling on this side of the Atlantic. I should not, however, neglect to notice one of Van Loo’s pictures for its drapery—a full length of a lady— which, for perfect definition and manipulation is quite noteworthy, and would be accepted as first-rate anywhere. Howell, of New York, has a screen of portraits which, while they are most excellent in the accessories and show remarkable manipulation, are not at all so creditable to his taste as a composer, most of the ladies in a long line being arranged in positions so nearly the same that the general effect is that of figures in a zoetrope. The poses are, moreover, theatrical, and the prevalent fault of excessive retouching is painfully apparent. Mr. Landy, of Cincinnati, has some very fine 10 X 12 Rembrandts, of which one of an old man and two others of young girls are in every way admirable.
In general, what is more apparent in the portraiture of the American department is the want of artistic feeling. There is plenty of good manipulation, and, as a whole, I am inclined to think the best in the Exhibition, but the standard seems to be too purely that of the dark room. The portraits lack freedom and unconsciousness, or, as is particularly the case with those of Mr. Howell, they are theatrical, reminding one of favourite actors and actresses in some well-known point of their best characters.
Scnwind and Kruger, of New York, have some compositions, of which one of some children who have broken a doll is very well put together and posed; but another of a battle scene is made out with actual foreground and a tableau vivant of an episode of a battle, while the background, the battle itself, is only a painted screen, on which the figures are painfully small and ludicrously badly drawn— without space and without art. Treatment of this kind passes the limits of proper photographic art. The portions done from nature, be they ever so good, are quite put out of court by the shabby company they are forced into; and the partial illusion which is attempted in the photograph, and which is indispensable to success in such subjects, is utterly destroyed by the flimsy unreality of the background. (p. 339) In landscape the principal contributions are from those magnificent wild scenes of the Californian and Yellowstone valleys which are so well known, and so worthy the best which photography can do. Of these there are a great many, the larger part lying in piles on the tables of the Geographical Society. Of those which are exposed on the screen two struck me as especially fine as subjects for photographs—the Domes of the Yosemite, by Houseworth and Co., San Francisco (a very perfect picture, except for being a little underexposed), andthe Lyell Group, by Watkins. Many of these views suffer very much in general pictorial quality by having the skies stopped out and printed quite blank; others are even worse treated by having pretentious clouds painted on the negative, but so badly done that the artificiality of the sky quite overpowers the delicate landscape under it. It is possible that for the general public a more careful and artistic treatment would not pay; but one feels hardly disposed to admit that people who pay so well for what they like, as do the Americans, should not be willing to pay the slight additional cost which would be caused by having fine skies printed into these superb views, to make them really as fine as photographs as they are as subjects. It seems rather another evidence of the lack of fine artistic feeling which appears in the portraiture.
There are some very fair microscopic photographs by Richmann, but not so fine as some in the Austrian department presently to be noticed.
There is a great abundance of stereoscopic views, of which some by Anthony, of New York, are as remarkable for sky and sunlight effects as anything I have ever seen, especially those of Niagara, all the phases of which appear, and some of singular felicity in sky effect.
Of amateur work there is nothing. Of apparatus nothing appears new and desirable, although Anthony’s camera with a patent swing back is novel, but lacking in solidity; and it would seem a more costly arrangement than the old one, without any perceptible advantage.” (340)]

HELLER, LOUIS HERMAN. (1839‑1928) (GERMANY, USA)
“The Modoc Trial. ‑ The Warm Spring Indians. From a Photograph by C. F. [sic E.] Watkins, of San Francisco, California.” FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER 36:930 (July 26, 1873): 313. b & w. [Outdoor portrait of sixteen Indian braves on horseback. (These photos credited to C. E. Watkins, but research shows them to have been made by Louis Heller.)]

“Fifth Annual Meeting and Exhibition of the National Photographic Association.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 10:117 (Sept. 1873): 259-465. [(President Bogardus asked several photographers to submit papers on landscape photography, thus making the report of this session something of a state-of-the art on the topic at this time. J. C. Potter, Mr. Husher, James Mullen (Lexington, Kentucky), C. A. Zimmerman (St. Paul, MN).)
“The Permanent Secretary also presented from Mr. C. A. Zimmerman, St. Paul, Minnesota, the following paper On Landscape Photography. Having a lively interest in the doings of the National Photographic Association, I regret exceedingly my inability to attend the present Convention. Conscious also that it is every one’s duty to give countenance and encouragement to this great and good object by their presence, I deplore it the more. While I am confident that I cannot advance anything materially new or novel to my seniors in the profession, I make free to lay before you a few ideas on landscape photography. Impelled by a somewhat lengthy experience, I have always classed outdoor photography as follows: landscape and bread-and-butter photography. (I beg pardon for the homely term.) In -my experience the two have seldom gone hand in hand. Among a thousand or more view negatives, the result of five or six years’ labor, or recreation, as I sometimes call it, having been made at intervals, when seeking a respite from the labors of the skylight, there are but few, if any, that possess any real merit as landscapes. ‘Tis true, they have some of the elements — sky, water, foreground, near and middle distance; but, alas! that is all. Popular taste controls or influences directly or indirectly every profession. The love of the sensational is inherent in the masses, whether it be the morbid curiosity attending a murder or suicide, a fire, a riot, curious or misshapen rocks, gnarled trees, the most sensational will always find the greatest number of worshippers. I believe I am correct in saying that landscape photography in America has to too great an extent resolved itself into sensational, or local interest views. These find a ready sale, because the tourist, “our patron,” demands such; and a beautiful landscape, unless of local interest, also very rarely finds a purchaser. Whether it be due to their quality or to their quantity, or whether, from a spirit of competition, photographers are to blame for it, I will not here discuss; but certain it is, there has never been a time when views commanded a poorer price; on account of the small remuneration there is but little incentive to any one to engage exclusively in the making of good views. Good views will pay, but only at a good price. This the dealers refuse to give, saying, “The general public does not look to quality as much as to subject, and, furthermore, are no judges whether the pictures be good or bad.” A pertinent remark a widely-known landscape photographer made to me a short time since, when I remarked to him that he was perilling his reputation by the quantity of views he was turning out, as they could not be uniformly good. Said he: “I once thought as you do, but now I am forced to say, give me bread and butter, and let others starve on the reputation.” Neither is good work made by chance or fortune; the most patient application and perception of the requirements of the subject, together with a proper support in the different branches of the art, are necessary. Any one, with a genuine love of the beautiful in nature, combining endurance with perseverance, will make a successful outdoor worker; and, if he has plenty of time and money, will soon make a reputation as a landscape photographer and artist. While I would advise every one who has the inclination and opportunity for outdoor work, to prosecute it as a recreation in connection with portraiture, I could not so advise as a source of income; for, to attain to any excellence in either branch is possible, but scarcely in both. There are but few in this country who devote themselves exclusively to outdoor work, but where this is done we see results equal to anything abroad. Witness the productions of Bennett, of Wisconsin; Watkins, of California; Kilburn, of the White Mountains; Barker, Curtis, and Bierstadt of Niagara, and others; all of their productions are not only gems, but many of the rarest merit. In good weather and under favorable circumstances you may expose — be it under the skylight or under the “firmament blue” — half a gross of plates, of perfect manipulation and chemical effect, and yet have amongst them but one truly artistic result. This is not to be wondered at when we reflect on the important details such a picture is made up of, how many ways of treatment, and perchance but one point of view, one effect of light and shade, together with careful manipulation, that can justly represent or express the subject as it appears to the careful observer. Let not these apparent difficulties deter any one from making the trial, but commence with a determination to succeed, and these fancied V, difficulties will vanish and the road to success be clear as day. That landscape photography in America has not kept pace with portraiture is not surprising, as the improvement in the latter in the last three years has been surprising, and I think all will agree very much more is needed. And here let me ask, do you realize to whom and to what we, on this side of the water, are indebted for the rapid and general advance and improvement in our beloved art? I answer, first of all to Edward L. Wilson, whose ably edited and illustrated journal of photography has month after month brought us examples of good work, stimulating us to renewed exertions for improvement which comparison made imperative. Let us not forget this and selfishly take all the credit to ourselves, but rather let us, each and every one, give him and the National Photographic Association all the material aid in our power, thereby showing in a tangible way our appreciation of his efforts in our behalf, and indirectly furthering our own interests and advancement. (Applause )…” pp. 447-448.

Vogel, H. “German Correspondence.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 10:117 (Sept. 1873): 469470. [“Photography — The Vienna Exhibition — North America — Brazil — England. For the past eight days I have been again in Vienna, not only for the purpose of enjoying the exhibition, which is now in complete order, but also to study it; and to sit in judgment on its merits, for, O horror! I am again on the jury, a position in which so far I have not had a pleasant experience….” “…The exhibition is of gigantic size, and extends like the skeleton of a mastodon. It contains more of the beautiful than the French Exhibition, but the beautiful is hard to find, and those who are not provided with a good guide will pass by thousands of objects without noticing them particularly, as the search in the enormous space fatigues, time and strength is lost, and one despairs of finding anything….” p. 469. “…egarding the American exhibition, I would like to exclaim, with the German professor, ” I see a good many who are not there I” Where are the splendid enlargements of Moore, of Philadelphia? Where are Rutherfurd’s celebrated sun and star pictures? Where are Kilburn’s stereos? Where Scholten’s portraits? Sarony, Bogardus, and the Zentmayer lens? Nothing of all this is to be seen; but in spite of all this America may rest satisfied, for although much is wanting, still there are present excellent representatives of American photography, and I must confess that your country has never before been represented so well in a European exhibition. Only now the European public has had an opportunity of forming an idea what beautiful pictures are made, and can be made, in America. There for instance is Kurtz, the eminent New York artist, Mr. Howell, Anthony, Bierstadt, Rocher, and from the Far West, Watkins, Houseworth, and Muybridge. The American section is small, but very advantageously located. The first wing of the great palace, nearest to the city, is devoted to it, and the most frequented western gate leads the visitor directly into the American exhibition, and the first step which he takes in the palace, nay, even before he has paid the first guilder or half guilder admission fee, he is confronted by the gigantic tableau of Mr. Kurtz, a magnificent frame decorated in the most artistic manner, with architectural designs, which contains in its covered sections, perhaps, the best which ever has been made in America photographically. It is difficult to determine which is the best. I state the worst photographer may sometimes make a good picture accidentally, and the best photographer may sometimes make a bad picture without any fault of his. A good picture does not, therefore, indicate an artist, but the artist selects the best pictures that he has produced, perhaps, sometimes by lucky accidents, and leaves the poor ones at home; in short, that he himself knows what is good and what inferior. This critical selection we often miss. Many make a fine picture and do not know its merits. This want of knowledge becomes evident in public exhibitions. “We notice three or four handsome pictures of the same firm, and become favorably impressed, but all at once we see some awful ones made by the same person, and our judgment is at once reversed. “The man does not know himself what he is making, else he would not have sent these pictures,” is said of him. When we place ourselves opposite to the frame of Mr. Kurtz, and examine it thoroughly, we must confess that it does not contain a single picture which lacks taste. Scarcely a second one has made his selection with such a fine appreciation. I share this opinion with many others and express it openly. Very interesting is a comparison with the tableau of Mr. Howell. Both are very similar, and it is said that Mr. Howell’s design is a copy of Mr. Kurtz’s. It is well that Mr. Howell takes such a model, and very flattering for Mr. Kurtz, but the difference between the two exhibitors strikes the eye at once. As much as I admire the easy technical execution of Mr. Howell, and acknowledge that in many instances the illumination gives great effects, although many are beautiful in pose and drapery, still one feels that the finished art-feeling of Kurtz is wanting. The school of Kurtz manifests itself also, if I am not mistaken, in the excellent pictures of Landy, in Cincinnati. The Rembrandt illumination, which, curious enough, the father of the Rembrandt effect (Kurtz) but rarely employs, the graduated backgrounds, and a certain peculiar, perhaps a little too hard and abrupt transition from light to shade, distinguish these pictures. With his baby pictures, Mr. Landy surprises photographers as well as artists. A certain peculiar technical method distinguishes at present Mr. Rocher, of Chicago. He has not sent us any Rembrandt?, but he tries to place the figure in harmony with its surroundings, and to bring about a happy arrangement of person, furniture, and background, which set off the person to the best advantage. In fact, we forget the atelier in looking at these pictures, and believe we see a real room. We can only approve of these pictures; it is the way which Loescher & Petsch first indicated. Less fortunate is Van Loo, of Cincinnati. He also likes backgrounds and a picturesque arrangement of the figure. The painted background, however, is never so agreeable as the real plastic background of Rocher. Original are the still-life pictures in which many splendidl}” posed boys are represented, and which requires only a plastic background. Nothing is more difficult to make than a photographic still-life picture. The person, the costume, furniture, background, action, all have to harmonize if the result is to be satisfactory. The large heads of Schwindt & Kruger in New York excite particular interest. They are taken directly from nature, and, considering the technical difficulties, they deserve much credit. America has, however, not only sent portraits but landscapes also. I mention only the glories of the Yosemite, which are now spread over the whole world, as well as the Niagara by Anthony and Bierstadt, as stereos. Unfortunately the manner in which they are framed makes it impossible to look at them as stereographs. But above all we must mention the large sheets, 45-55 centimetres, scenes from the Yosemite Valley, by Watkins, Houseworth, and Muybridge. These are glorious specimens of landscapes, worthy of the magnificent scenery which they represent. There is plastic sharpness, air, perspective, harmony, and softness. Muybridge, above all others, is distinguished by superb cloud effects, which, in these large pictures, look extraordinary fine….” p. 470.”]

Vogel, H. “Medals Awarded at the Vienna Exhibition.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 10:118 (Oct. 1873): 487-488. [“The jury has finished its labors. The prizes have been awarded, and I annex a list of those receiving them. In regard to the medals which have been distributed, I remark that according to the ruling of the Director-General there are three kinds: one for progress or improvement, one for merit, and one for the display of taste. It was originally intended that the jury should have the right to award two medals to one exhibitor — for instance, one for merit and one for taste, if the objects which he exhibits were faultless in a technical sense, and at the same time showing good taste. Unfortunately this principle was abandoned, and in the last week the Director General ordered that only one medal should be given to any one exhibitor, and that the three medals should be considered all of the same grade or value….”The medal for progress or improvement was, according to section 22, article 2, intended for those which in comparison with former efforts displayed marked improvements either by the introduction of new inventions or new material and arrangement. This paragraph could not be carried out strictly. A photographer in Athens, for instance, who could produce neither new inventions nor new arrangements, received the medal for progress because he promoted photography in Greece under peculiar difficulties. The large pictures taken at the Yosemite Valley received also the medal for progress, because, considering the locality and compared with older pictures, they show an improvement. These principles may be open to objection, nor have they been accepted by all the sections of the jury. Some sections have declared directly that they place the medal for merit above the medal for improvement, so you see the jury had no easy task to do justice….”“…America has received the following distinctions: W. Kurtz, New York, medal for taste, with acknowledgment of improvement. Of medals for taste with acknowledgment of improvement, only four have been distributed. Of these, only two to portrait photographers. The one is Mr. Kurtz, New York, the other, Loescher & Petsch, of Berlin. “Watkins, San Francisco, medal for improvement. Houseworth, San Francisco, medal for improvement. Muybridge, San Francisco, medal for improvement. E. & H. T. Anthony & Co., New York, medal for improvement. Howell, New York, medal for merit. Scovill Manufacturing Company, New York, medal for merit. Rocher, Chicago, medal for merit. Landy, Cincinnati, medal for merit. Richman, Cincinnati, medal for merit (for microphotographs). Bierstadt, Niagara Falls, medal for merit. Schwind & Kruger, New York, diploma of acknowledgment. L. Van Loo, Cincinnati, diploma of acknowledgment. Spahn, New York, diploma of acknowledgment (for camera stand) . Vlanievehr, New York, diploma of acknowledgment. Professor H. Vogel, Member of the Jury. Vienna, July 28th, 1873.”]

“The Photographic Medals Awarded at Vienna.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER10:119 (Nov. 1873): 528-530. [“Photography at Vienna was amply rewarded, every possible kind of medal offered having been awarded to one branch or other of our art, namely, for progress, merit, taste, and for the co-operator. Of this last class, Mr. Elbert Anderson was the only one who received a medal in America…” “…It will be remembered that these medals, although bearing different names, are all of the same value, and only have a different designation to show in what particular respect the productions of the successful competitor excelled. We have prepared a list,
Diploma of Honor.
Societe Francaise de Photographie in Paris; Josef Albert, hofphotograph in München; K. k. Militar-geographiscb.es Institut in Wien; Kaiserl. russische Expedition zur Anfertigung der Staatspapiere in St. Petersburg.
Medal for Good Taste.
W. Kurtz, New York, with mention of progress; H. P. Robinson and N. K. Cherrill, Tunbridge Wells, with mention of progress; Mrs. Julia M. Cameron, Freshwater Bay, Isle of Wight; Walery (Graf Ostrorog), Paris, Rue de Londres 9 bis; M. B. Verveer, Haag; Loescher & Petsch, Berlin, with mention of progress; Franz Hanfstaengl (Edgar Hanfstaengl), Miinchen; Bernhard Johannes, Partenkirchen, Baiern; Robert Eich, Dresden; Victor Angerer, Vienna, with mention of progress for landscape work; A. Perlmutter, Vienna; Dr. J Szekley, Vienna; Otto Schofft, Vienna and Cairo; Karl v. Jagemann, Vienna; Carl Roller, Bistritz in Siebenbiirgen.
Progress Medal.
E. & H. T. Anthony, New York; Muybridge, San Francisco; C. E. Watkins, San Francisco; Thomas Houseworth & Co., San Francisco; E. Amand-Durand, Paris; E. Baldus, Paris; Duboscq, Paris; Harrison, Asnieres; Jeanrenand, Paris; Lefruan & Lourdel, Paris; A. Lumiere, Lyon; A. Merget, Lyon; Ch. Reutlinger, Paris; Rousselon (maison Goupil), Asnieres; Carlos Relvas, Oporto; Vianelli Brothers, Venice; Karl Naja, Venice; Alinari Brothers, Florence; Budtz, Miiller & Co., Hofphotographen, Copenhagen; Mr. C. J. Asser, Amsterdam; Geruzet Brothers, Brussels; Adolph Neyt, Ghent; Belgische Kriegsdepot, Brussels; Societe royale Beige de Photographie (J. Fierlandts), Brussels; E. Bieber, Hamburg; A. Braun, Dornach; Theodor Pruuim, Berlin; Gustav Fritsch, M.D., Berlin; A. Leisner, Waldenburg, Schlesien; J. B. Obernetter, Miinchen; Rathenower optische Industrie-Anstalt (Emil Buseh), Rathenow; Fr. Bruckmann, Miinchen; Ludwig Angerer, Vienna, with mention of good taste; Franz Antoine, Vienna; Baldi & Wurthle, Salzburg; Wilh. Burger, Vienna; Julius Gertinger, Vienna; Ant. Goldmann, Vienna; Karl Haack, Vienna; Dr. Hermann Heid, Vienna; August Kohler, Vienna; Julius Leth, Vienna; Josef Lowy, Vienna; E. Rabending, Vienna; L. Schodisch, Vienna; G. Sebastianutti, Trieste; Freih. v. Stillfried, Vienna; Joh. Graf Wilczek, Vienna; Maximilian H. Fajans, Warsaw; Carl J. Bergamasco, St. Petersburg; Johann Mieczkowski, “Warsaw; Moraitis Peter, Attica; P. Sebah, Constantinople.
Medal for Merit.
Scovill Manufacturing Company, New York, apparatus; Wm R. Howell, New York; James Landy, Cincinnati; Henry Richman, Cincinnati; Charles Bierstadt, Niagara Falls; Henry Rocher, Chicago; Henschel & Benque, Rio Janeiro; Douglas Wane Marshall, Isle of Man; T. M. Brownrigg, Dublin; Frank Haes, London; F. Beasley, Jr., London; London Stereoscopic and Photographic Co., London; Colonel Stuart Wortley, London; Abel Lewis, London; A. Darlot, Paris, optical apparatus; A. Dauphinot, Rheims; Ferrier & Lecadre, Paris; Fleury-Hermagis, Paris, lenses; G. Fortier, Paris; Franck de Villecholle, Paris; Geymet & Alker, Paris; Jules Girard, Paris; J. Lachenal. Favre & Co., Paris; E. Lamy, Paris; J. Levy & Co., Paris; Cosquin, Paris; Mathieu-Deroche, Paris; Comte G. de Roydeville, Paris; L. Vidal, Marseilles; Gsell, Saigon; J. F. Camacho, Madeira; Observatorium zu Lissbon; Alviach&Co., Madrid; Zaragozano, Madrid; Laurent, Madrid; F. Charnaux, Genf.; Richard & Baumeister, Genf.; Taschler Brothers, St. Gallen; Tiischler-Signer, St. G alien; Peter Guidi & Ritter Franz Panizzi, San Remo, Porto Maurizio; Jacob Rossetti, Brescia; Anton Perini, Venice; Anton Sorgato, Venice; Witwe Isabelle Cuccione, Rome; Heinrich Verzaschi, Rome; Eurenius & Qvist, Stockholm; G. Joop & Co., Stockholm; W. Lundberg, Stockholm; Selmer, Bergen; L. Szacinski, Christiana; Hansen, Schou & Weller, Copenhagen; E. V. Harboe, Copenhagen; J. Petersen, Copenhagen; F. S. von Kolkow, Groningen; Ministerium der Colonien, Hague; Walter Damry, Liittich; Josef Maes, Antwerp; F. Reinecke, Hanover; Aug. G. Stender, Lamspringe; Ferd. Beyrich (Alb. Bergtnann und Rud. Freyschmidt), Berlin, chemicals for photography; Gustav Schucht, Berlin; Reichard & Lindner, Berlin; J. C. Schaarw’ajhter, Berlin; Otto Lindner, Berlin; Hugo Danz, Berlin; Carl Brasch, Berlin; Moser, sen (Julius Moser), Berlin; Heinr. Schnaebeli, Berlin; Hermann Riickwardt, Berlin; Romaine Talbot, Berlin; Gustav Schauer, Berlin; Ludwig Harnecker, Wriezen a. 0.; Heinrich Keller, Frankfort a. M.; C. Borntrager, Wiesbaden; Aug. Kampf, Aix-laChapelle; Gustav Volkerling, Dessau; Karl Daiithendey, Wurzburg; Johann Laifle, Regensburg; Herm. Krohne, Dresden; Rommler & Jonas, Dresden; A. Kotzsch, Loschwitz bei Dresden; Schulz & Suck, Karlsruhe; Franz Richard, Heidelberg; G. M. Eukert, Heidelberg; Carl Holzamer, Worms a. R.; Joh. Verlag Nohring’s, Liibeck; Benque & Kindermann (Conr. Heinr. Kindermann), Hamburg; G. Koppmann & Co. (G. Koppmann), Hamburg; Carl Damann, Hamburg; George Wolf & Co. (George Wolf), Hamburg; Auguste Colas-Baudelaire, Strasburg; Friedr. Peter, Strasburg; J. F. Schippang & Co., Berlin; M. Gemoser, Munich; F. Fessler’s (successors to A. Stegmann), Berlin; Dr. Oidtmann, Linnich bei Aachen; Dr. Stein, Frankfort on Main; Beer & Mayer, Graz; Leopold Bude, Graz; Tom Burato, Ragusa; August Angerer, Vienna; Alois Beer, Klagenfurt; Beczedes, Vienna; Friedrich Bopp, Innsbruck; A. F. Czihak, Vienna; M. Frankenstein & Co., Vienna; C. H. Haufler, Vienna; Max Jaffe, Vienna; W. F. Jantsch, Reichenberg; Rosa Jenik, Vienna; G. Klocs, Vienna; Franz Knebel, Vienna; Oskar Kramer, Vienna; Karl Kroh, Vienna; Karl Matzner, Vienna; August Red, Linz; J. B. Rottmayer, Trieste; Julius Schindler, Vienna; (p. 529) Johann Schopf, Vienna; N. Stockmann, Vienna; Guido Trapp, Briinn; Othmar v. Turk, Vienna; Josef Ungar, Vienna; F. Friedrich, Prague; Hubert Ginzel, Reichenburg; Franz Largajoli, Meran; Emil Lotze (Verlag von Moser), Bozen; A. Moll, k. k. Hoflieferant, Vienna; Johann Reiner, Klagenfurt; Awit. Szubert, Krakau; Trapp & Munch, Vienna; Karl Diwald, Pesth; Edouard Ellinger, Pesth; Franz Kozmata, Pesth; Michael Rupprecht, Oedenburg; Franz Veress, Klausenburg; Wohlfarth & Lovich, Ofen; Heinrich Denier, St. Petersburg; Carl C. Rottger, St. Petersburg; D. Birkin, Kijew; Ferdinand Kloch & Meletius Dutkewitsch, Warsaw; Kostka & Mulert, Warsaw; Mann, St. Petersburg; Roudneff Brothers, Daguestan; Aug. Kollas, Corfu; Von Szathmary, Bukarest.
Honorable Mention.
W. Schwind & E. Krueger, New York; Leon Van Loo, Cincinnati, Ohio; Emil P. Spahn, Newark, New Jersey; Unnevehr, New York; Joaquim Insley Pacheco, Rio de Janeiro; George Leuzinger, Rio de Janeiro; A. Riedel, Minas Geraes; Charles A. Ferneley, Scalford Road, Melton Mowbray; George Hare, London; Luehlan McLachlan, Manchester; Lemere Bedford, London; A. Bernoud, Lyons; Nuina Blanc, Nice; Victor David, Courbevoie(Seine); Dubroni, Paris; Garin, Jr., Paris; A. Liebert, Paris; Geiser, Algiers; C. H. Luttringer, Paris; Salleron, Paris; Rocchini, Lisbon; Fernandes Souza, Porto; E. Julia, Madrid; E. Otero, Madrid; Almagro, Murcia; Ortiz, Seville; Karl Cru, Geneva; A. Gabler; J. Ganz; F. Jungmann, Basil; F. Richard Sohn, Zurich; Vittorio Besso, Biella, Turin; Angelo Delia Croce, Milan; Ritter Franz Heyland, Milan; Peter Bertoja, Venice; Prof. Ludwig Borlinetto, Padua; E. Beehles & Co., Rome; Angiolini & Co., Bologna; Michael Schemboche, Florence; Ludwig Lamarra, Naples; George Sommer, Naples; Achille Mauri, Naples; Anton Montagna, Lecco; Agostino Lai Rodriguez, Cagliari; Vincenz Seveso, Milan; C. G. W. Carleman, Stockholm; H. Osti, Upsala; 0. Wiklund, Westeras; K. Knudsen, Christiana; A. C. B. Lonborg, Copenhagen; L. Nielsen, Copenhagen; S. Nielsen, Slagelse; C. Petersen, Copenhagen; V. Tillge, Copenhagen; Binger & Chits, Harlem; Francois Deron, Brussels; Ladislav Straszak, Brussels; Carl Suck, Berlin; August Utecht, Berlin; Richard Falk, Berlin; Ernst Lucke & Fischer, Berlin; Rud. Hoffmann, Berlin; Adolf Schwarz, Brandenburg a. H.; Mondel & Jacob, Wiesbaden; Fr. Wilde, Gorlitz; B. Voelkel, Neisse; 0. v. Busch & Co., Hirschberg, Schlesien; E. Kiewning, Greifswalde, Pommern; Schultze, Brunswick; Arno Kersten, Altenburg; G. Bottger, Munich; Christ. Schildknecht, Fiirth; Hans Hanfstaengl, Hofphotograph (Karl Aug. Teich), Dresden; Freimund Edlich, Dresden; Wolf, Constance; Ruf & Dilger, Freiburg, Baden; A. Brauneck, Mentz; H. Greiner & Co., Apolda; R. Hennig, Berlin; W. Champes, Hamburg; George Rotter <fc Co., Dresden; Gabriel Worlein, Berlin; J. C. Grabe & Co., Kiel; Johannes Herzog, Bremen; George Wachsmuth & Co., Dresden; Beute & Stolze, Hamburg; M. Rommel, Stuttgart; Max Auerbach, Vienna and Arad.; Antonie Bogner, Vienna; Eder & Novicki, Vienna and Leinberg; B. Henner, Przemysl Josef Hoffmann, Vienna; Edmund Kozics, Press burg; Ig. Krakowsky. Vienna; L. Mioni, Trieste A. Mutterer, Vienna; Heinr. Eckert, Prague Rosenbach, Lemberg, Xaver Massak, Vienna Karl Skutta, Wr. Neustadt; Ed. Trzemesky, Lemberg; Friedr. Wendling, Vienna; Ernestine Holbling, Vienna; Antonio Jelaska, Ragusa; G. Jelinek, Vienna, albumen paper and passepartouts; Thaddeus Immler, Bregenz; Karl & Rudolf Mahlknecht, Vienna; Prof. A. Mayssl, Briinn; Giuseppe Popovich, Spalato; Franz Reisinger, Hernals; Julius Schleegel, Reichenberg; Franz Scholz, Vienna; Gio. Batta Unterweger, Trient; Albert Doctor, Pesth; Bela Gevay, Pesth; Ignaz Schrecker, Pesth; Ant. Simonyi, Pesth; Max Stern, Trentschin; Schivert, Hermannstadt; Marnitz, St. Petersburg; Michel P. Nastjukoff, Moscow; Baron Johann Mannteufel, Riga; K. Schultz, Dorpat; Conrad Brandel, Warsaw; Hilfs-Comite des Caucasus; Administration des ponts et chaussees, Caucasus; Ingenieur-Verwaltung des Caucasus; Bahuverbindungs-Comite des Caucasus; Barkanoff, Tiflis; Alex. & Jos. Kova, Beyrut; D. Michailides; Giuseppe Berinda, Crete. co-workers’ medal. Elbert Anderson, with W. Kurtz, New York; Huguenin, Chef des travaux photographiques a, Tecole des pons et chaussees, Paris; Carl Fischer, with Fr. Bruckmann, Munich; Carl Quidde, with Gust. Schauer, Berlin; Hans Hartmann, with Loescher & Petsch, Berlin; W. Becker, with Theod’. Prumm, Berlin; C. Schwier, Berlin; Julius Adam, Ludwig Froschle, Anton Meier, with J. Albert, Munich; A. BeyersdorfF, with Carl Kroh, Vienna; H. Zinsler, with J. B. Rottmayer. Trieste; Kl. Langer, with Dr. J. Szekely, Vienna; Turk, with E. Rabending, Vienna; C. Schilhabel (Mariot) im k. k. Military Geographical Institute, Vienna; C. Schierer, with A. Moll, Vienna; J. Beck, with A. v. Jagemann, Vienna; W. Perlmutter, with Adele Perlmutter, Vienna; Edm. Violand, with Fr. Bopp, Innsbruck; G. (p. 530) Scamoni, in der kais. russ. Expedition zur Anfertigung der Credit-papiere, St. Petersburg; Laroche, with P. Sebah, Constantinople.” (p. 530)]

HELLER, LOUIS HERMAN. (1839‑1928) (GERMANY, USA)
4 b & w “The Four Modoc Indians Executed at Fort Klamath, Oregon, Friday, October 3d. From Photographs by C. F. Watkins.” FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER 37:942 (Oct. 18, 1873): 96. [These are actually republications of the portraits of Captain Jack, etc. published earlier.]

“Photography at the Annual Exhibition of the American Institute, N. Y.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER10:120 (Dec 1873): 571-572. [“Our absence from home compelled us to confine our visit to the Annual Exhibition of the American Institute to a couple of hours only, and then in the evening of the day before it closed. The display of photography was in excess of any former one, and very creditable indeed to those who contributed to it. Yet withal it is not as great as it should be. That whole art room, erected for photography, should each year be filled, so that the photographs could not be ” peppered ” and spotted here and there with chromos, drawings, sewing-machine work, &c. Next year let them all be crowded out. The parties who exhibited made a fine display of their best work; they show that they improve constantly, as follows: Scovill Manufacturing Company, New York, American Optical Company’s apparatus, Morrison lenses, dreg bottle, &c.; L. Dubernet, New York, frames, passe-partouts, &c.; German Photographic Society, New York, the handsome collection exhibited at Buffalo; and Photo-Belief Printing Company, New York, a fine collection of Woodburytypes on paper and glass; also photographs of all varieties and styles, embracing all the newest and best examples of colored and plain work, by the following photographers: New York, C. D. Fredricks & Co.,Schwind & Kruger, A. Naegeli, A. Jordan, G. A. Flach, E. & H. T. Anthony & Co., William B. Holmes & Co., W. Kurtz, G. G. Rockwood, W. R. Howell, and Baars & Spier; Brooklyn, Alva Pearsail and Mr. Richardson; Hudson City, A. B. Costello; Newark, J. Kirk; Long Branch, C. W. Pach; Jersey City, Theodore Gubelman; Niagara Falls, Charles Bierstadt and George Barker; San Francisco, C. E. Watkins. It will be remembered that our old friend and correspondent, Mr. Charles Wager Hull, is the General Superintendent of the American Institute, and to his energy the success of this great annual exhibition is due — never a greater success than this year. We found him busy enough at his post, sometimes working all night, and must compliment him and congratulate him on his ability to manage so vast an affair with such satisfactory results following.

1874

“Etc. California Photographs in Vienna.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 12:1 (Jan. 1874): 94. [“Last year, as some of our readers may remember, the American Geographical Society of New York, through its Vice President, Mr. F. A. Stout, undertook to make a collection of photographs, maps, and books, illustrative of the natural characteristics and resources of the United States, with the intention of exhibiting the collection at the Vienna Exhibition. California was asked to do her part, and by the efficiency of Mr. Washington Bartlett, Mr. Gansl, Mr. Tevis, and others co-operating, a very respectable exhibit was made of our photographic views, the maps of the Geological Survey, and statistical documents. Now comes the report. A private letter just received in this city from Mr. Stout, conveys the gratifying intelligence that three of the California photographers received the highest medal of the Vienna Exhibition—the Medal of Progress. ‘”Arrived there,’’? he writes, ‘“‘on the 24th of May, and at once began to unpack our boxes and procure the necessary workmen and materiel for insuring them a fair chance in the strife of competition. I had thirty-four of the largest and finest photographs by Muybridge, Watkins, and Houseworth, neatly framed and most conspicuously shown, The names of these gentlemen were also entered for competition. I see by the papers that each one of them has been awarded the Medal of Progress—the highest medal. No Official list of the awards has been, as yet, received in this country, that I am aware of. But the above information may be, I think, relied upon as accurate. Minister Jay has been asked by me to present the thirty-four framed photos to that institution of learning or department of the Austrian Government in which they will be most seen and appreciated, and which will be most likely to reciprocate with matter interesting and valuable to the Geographical Society. A considerable portion of the statistical library, sent to Vienna, is to find a similar destination, The rest of the photos and books will be included in our library at the Cooper Union, where we still occupy the same rooms as of old. To Mr, Jay I gave five unframed photographs for the parlors of the Legation and for its office. Could you not express to the members of the sub-committee, formed by you last winter to insure a representation of California, the gratitude with which their co-operation has been received?”]

“The Awards. Forty Second Annual Fair of the American Institute.” PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES 4:37 (Jan. 1874): 5.
[                                               “Awards for Photographs, 1873.”
“WM. KURTZ, 872 Broadway. For the best photographs, crayon drawings, and pencil drawings. Silver medal.
THEO. GUBELMAN. 79 Newark Avenue, Jersey City, N. J. For imperial three-quarter length photographs. Bronze medal.
JOSEPH KIRK, 661 Broad Street, Newark, N. J. For plain photographs. Diploma.
GUSTAVUS A. FLACKE, 1000 Third Avenue. For photographs painted in oil; groups. Bronze medal.
ALFRED B. COSTELLO, Hudson City, N. J. For medallion photographs. Diploma.
A. NAEGELI, 55 Third Avenue. For a collection of photographs. Diploma.
BAARS & SPIER, 294 Bowery. For photographs of plated-ware. Diploma.
GERMAN PHOTOGRAPHIC ASSOCIATION, 66 East Fourth Street. For photographs, colored and plain. Bronze medal.
ALVA PEARSALL, 615 Fulton Street, Brooklyn, L. I. For solar print portraits and imperial cartes. Diploma.
WM. R. HOWELL, 867 Broadway. For the best portrait in pastel. Silver medal.
A. W. JORDAN, 229 Greenwich Street. For the Silver medal. best photographic portraits.
JOHN WEBER, 122 Spring Street. For portraits in crayon. Bronze medal.
C. D. FREDRICKS & Co., 587 Broadway. For the best porcelain pictures and portraits of children. Silver medal.
SCHWIND & KRUGER, 27 Avenue A. For prints from large contact negatives and genre groupings of children. Bronze medal.
GEO. G. ROCKWOOD. 839 Broadway. For the best oil portrait and crayons. Silver medal.
WM. RICHARDSON, 129 Broadway. For the best water-colors and crayons. Silver medal.
CHAS. BIERSTADT, Niagara Falls, N. Y. For the best stereoscopic views. Silver medal.
GEO. BARKER, Niagara Falls, N. Y. For stereoscopic views. Bronze medal. For
E. & H. T. ANTHONY & CO., 591 Broadway. stereoscopic views. Diploma.
SCOVILL MANUFACTURING COMPANY, 36 Park Row. For the best photographic apparatus. Silver medal.
R. MORRISON, Greenpoint, L I. For photographic lenses for outdoor work. Bronze medal. WOODBURY PHOTO-RELIEF PRINTING COMPANY, Philadelphia, J. Carbutt, Superintendent. For glass transparencies and paper prints. Silver medal.
We have to thank Mr. Charles Wager Hull, the efficient and courteous manager of the American Institute Fair, for the above list, and we congratulate the successful exhibitors on the awards received, only wishing the list had been twice as long. But we trust the success of those above named will not only stimulate them to greater efforts to excel even their present degree of excellence, but also induce many others to join in these commendable exhibitions of friendly rivalry and emulation, which are
G. W. PACH, 897 Broadway. For photographs doing so much from year to year, both in the of animals. Bronze medal.
C. E. WATKINS. San Francisco, Cal. For the best landscape photographs. Silver medal.
ROBT. B TALFOR, New Orleans, La. For photographic landscapes, colored. Diploma.
L. A. FINLEY & Co., 16 Cedar Street. For photographic picture, Presidents of the United States. Diploma. national and local exhibitions, to advance the standard of the photographic art.”]

“Table of Contents.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 12:3 (Mar. 1874): n. p. [2]. [(There is a list of advertisers on a sixteen page “Advertising Sheet” and on two pages listed under “Cover” under “Advertisements in Overland Monthly for May” on the Table of Contents page. These items were not bound into this copy of the journal and so I have not seen the actual advertisements, but “Bradley & Rulofson, Photographers, p. 7,” “Watkins, Photographer, p. 9,” and “Houseworth’s Photographs, cover p. 4,” are listed on this page. And, presumably, on other advertising in additional issues of the journal. Watkins is also listed in April and May issues.)]

“Editor’s Table. Watkins’s Stereos.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 11:123 (Mar. 1874): 96. [“The finest lot of stereos we have had the pleasure of examining for some time, came to us a few days ago from Mr. C. E. Watkins, San Francisco. These comprise views on the Pacific Railroad, Yosemite Valley, Mt. Shasta, Groups of Indians, Capt. Jack’s retreats, Pacific Coast, &3. We have selected some of the best subjects, and will notice them briefly . “View on the Merced, Yosemite Valley;” this is beautiful in light and composition. ” Mt. Shasta, view from the Northeast,: ‘ and “Glacier on Mt. Shasta, Siskiyou Co., Cal.;” these remind one of the wonderful Swiss and Alpine views, and bring before us scenery that many are not aware exists in America. On the Pacific Railroad we have ”Truckee River below Truckee Station;” ” Summit Tunnel before completion; Altitude, 7042 feet.” “The Devil’s Slide,” Weber Canyon, Utah; a most singular-looking formation of rock on the mountain side; and ” Bloomer Cut, bird’s-eye view.” ” At the Geysers,” is a picture of a happy-looking little miss, and beside her a young pet deer. It might be called the two dears. “Witches Caldron, Geysers.” We can almost imagine we see the three weird spirits circling around and chanting their monotonous song: “Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, Fire burn and caldron bubble.” ” Steamboat Geyser;” ” Devil’s Canyon;” “Devil’s Teakettle;” “In the Devil’s Canyon,” and the ” Devil’s Canyon, view looking down the canyon.” This last is a magnificent view, and inspires no terrors, as the evil name might indicate. In all these Geyser views, the seething vapor continually boiling from the earth, might indicate that Vulcan had set up a foundry down below, with steam engines and modern machinery. ” View of the spot where Gen. E. R. S. Canby and the Peace Commissioners were murdered by the Modocs. ” “Captain Jack’s Cave;” ” Captain Jack’s Stronghold;” ” Lava Bed, showing Soldier’s Cemetery;” “Group of Warm Spring Indians;” ” At the Rancherio, Mendocino County, California.” This is a picture of an Indian encampment, the principal figure in which is a little chubby Indian baby, sitting on a mat on the ground, and one hand resting on his basket cradle. He sits perfectly still, looks directly at you, and what shows of his form above the basket indicates that his entire suit of baby clothes consists of an ornament like a locket on his neck, and a bracelet on his arm. A fine piece of bronze statuary. ” A Piute Chief, ” is a good picture of an Indian. “The Willamette Falls, Oregon” “Rooster Rock, Columbia River.” “The Oldest Inhabitant of the Farallon Islands,” is not excelled by anything in York’s collection from the Zoological Gardens ” Young Gull presenting his Bill, the latest thing out.” “Gull, Shags, and Murr, Farallon Islands, Pacific Ocean,” “Sea Lions, Farallon Islands,” “At Woodward’s Gardens. San Francisco,” “View of the City of San Francisco.” These views have evidently been chosen with a great deal of care and judgment. They are artistic in treatment, and some of them indicate indomitable energy and perseverance to secure them. Such work assures us that nature will not go unrepresented, even in her most hidden recesses or giddy heights.”]

“Etc. Scientific Notes.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 12:4 (Apr. 1874): 376-379. [“…—Prof. J. D. Whitney and Mr. C. F. Hoffmann, of the Geological Survey, have made a model in plaster of the South Dome, Yosemite, on a scale of 300 feet to the inch, which illustrates very strikingly the peculiar form and characteristics of that remarkable object. Prof. Whitney has suggested that a model of the entire Yosemite, not less than twelve feet long by about three feet wide, would be a most interesting and appropriate object for California to send to the Centennial Exposition. The Legislature would do well to authorize she execution of such a model, which might be placed in the University Museum after the close of the Exposition.
Watkins, the photographer, has prepared a collection of his large and fine views of Californiatrees for exhibition at the grand horticultural and floral fair to be held in Florence, Italy, during May. The sequoias and the most most remarkable of our indigenous pines, firs, and spruces, with certain oaks, laurels, and so forth, figure in the collection, and will give to Europeans a good idea of our noblest trees….” (p. 378)

“The Eucalyptus, or Fever Tree. Photographed by C. E. Watkins, San Francisco.” FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER 38:969 (Apr. 25, 1874): 108. b & w. [Tree in a yard, before a house.]

Avery, Benjamin P. “Ascent of Mount Shasta.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 12:5 (May 1874): 466-476. [“Mounting horses accustomed to the trail, and taking along an extra animal, packed with blankets and provisions, our little party–consisting of the writer and his wife, Sisson the guide, and one of his employes–leave Sisson’s house in Strawberry Valley at nine o’clock in the morning, bound for Mount Shasta….” (p. 466)
“…The steepness of this cone was not exaggerated, but it has since been frequently climbed, and has latterly been included on the route to the Main Peak by a few of the strongest and most resolute climbers. In 1871, Clarence King’s party, which spent six weeks on and about the mountain, scaled up this side cone with instruments, including the photographic apparatus of Watkins. If the slopes were really formed of ashes, or other fine material, they could, indeed, hardly be climbed, as they would offer no secure footing at such a steep angle; but they are covered with angular blocks of trachyte, sometimes very large, formed by the breaking down of the crater walls above, and affording a footing in the steepest places….” (p. 470)
“…What remains of the crater on the Main Peak is filled with ice to a great depth, and from this source, through a cleft on the northeasterly side, descends the slow-moving mass of the Whitney Glacier—a genuine river of ice, half a mile wide and perhaps seven miles long—the true character of which was first determined by Clarence King so recently as 1871. All the northerly flanks of the mountain are largely covered with snow and ice, above an elevation of 8,000 or 9,000 feet, and on that side, also, there is another deep gorge between the two peaks. Leaving our perch above the lower crater, we crawl down the ledge toward this gorge, and cross a small pond of smooth blue ice at its base. It was on this level spot that Watkins pitched his field-tent for photographic work, and when he thought he had the light all shut off, found that enough still came through the icefloor to spoil his negatives, obliging him to cover that also. The surface of this ice, as of the large snow-field adjoining, was slightly melting. But the air was sensibly cooler on this side of the mountain, and it was a relief to be walking again on a comparatively level surface….” (p. 472)]

“Etc. Icelandic History and Exploration.” OVERLAND MONTHLY, DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY 12:6 (June 1874): 575-576. [“The relations of California and Iceland are not of the most intimate sort; in fact, if the people there know as little of our affairs as we know of theirs—if they know nothing of our City Hall, and Harbor Commission, and Chinese immigration, and Local Option, and railroad discussions—they know very little, and ought to be enlightened! But there is one thing, at least, in which they have served us, in common with all English speaking people; they have perpetuated, as a living language, in that remote and inaccessible island, one of the oldest dialects of that group of languages to which the English belongs; and so, as the study of our mother tongue is becoming more and more interesting in its historical, philological, and literary relations, the knowledge of Icelandic is of great importance to the scholars of our country. In Icelandic literature, too, many clues are found to the beliefs and myths which our ancestors cherished, and the first gleams of light upon the discovery of this western continent are also derived from their Sagas.
Iceland is the most eastern geographical member of the North American continent, as the Aleutian Islands stretch forth upon the extreme west. Its physical structure exhibits as living forces, glaciers, volcanoes, and geysers, which have so much to do with the physical features of this western country. We call attention to these points for the sake of interesting some of our citizens in a project which has found much favor in the East —a proposal to make ‘‘a birthday present’’ to that northern Princess of Thule. In August next, Iceland will celebrate the thousandth anniversary of its colonization, and on the second day the constitution, granted by Denmark, restoring the right of self government to the islanders, will go into effect. Literary gentlemen in New York and elsewhere propose to make this the occasion of sending out a party to Iceland, under the lead of Dr. I. I. Hayes, the Arctic traveler, and under the auspices of the American Geographical Society. A collection of such books, maps, photographs, etc., as may be contributed by Americans, will be then presented to the National Library at Reykjavik, the capital, and the seat of a college. A formal request has just been received by the University of California, asking contributions to this collection. Photographs of California scenery are especially requested, and our (p.574) well-known photographers, Messrs. Watkins, Muybridge, and Bradley & Rulofson, stand ready to contribute. Other parties will, no doubt, take pleasure in adding to the collection —the Mercantile Library its catalogue, the Academy its transactions, the University its registers, our publishers their books, private persons a good book from their library shelves. All such documents and books will be forwarded without expense. They may be left with R. E. C. Stearns, Esq., Secretary of the Academy of Sciencés and of the University of California, at 320 Sansome Street, at the earliest day convenient.” (p. 575)]

1875

“Etc. Art Notes.” OVERLAND MONTHLY AND OUT WEST MAGAZINE 14:4 (Apr. 1875):.387. [“Among the few new pictures contributed of late, the most interesting are a couple of wood interiors by Hill-very graceful effective compositions, forming admirable companion pictures. One is enlivened by a brook of running water, which, with its pretty perspective of overarching foliage, its waters— now rippling over shining stones, and now hiding in deep shadowy pools-is rendered with true artistic feeling. The other, which is simply a glimpse into a forest glade in which the mossy tree-trunks are just touched with the sunlight, that also flecks the bit of greensward on which lies a wounded deer with its solitary and sorrowful fawn standing beside it, is invested by this incident with a bit of tender pathos.
Wandesford has quite a large picture, the subject of which—an old adobe mission church is interesting more from historical associations than from its artistic merit. -Woodman and Ford, two recent arrivals from the East, exhibit each a picture in Roos’ gallery; Woodman’s being a figure subject. boy with a nest of young birds and Ford’s a forest interior. In the same gallery we notice a large photograph executed by Watkins, representing the officers and employés of the Bank of California, about fifty persons; and we doubt if that difficult feat in photography the rendering of a large group of figures-has ever been more admirably and successfully accomplished. The finishing, by G. H. Burgess, is very cleverly done….” (p. 387) (Etc., etc.)]

1876

EXHIBITIONS. 1876. PHILADELPHIA. CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION.
“Photographic Hall.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:146 (Feb. 1876): 58-62. 2 illus. [(The drawing is a view and the floor plan of the proposed “Photographic Hall” to be erected at the Centennial Exhibition. C. E. Watkins is on a list containing the names of scores of photographers who had already applied for space in the building.)].

“Manchester Photographic Society.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 23:828 (Mar. 17, 1876): 130. [“The monthly meeting of this Society was held at the Memorial Hall, on Thursday, the 9th instant,—Mr. W. T. Mabley, President, in the chair.
After the routine business Mr. J. Pollitt read a paper on Prolonged Exposures by the Wet-Plate Process [see page 124], and handed round some negatives exhibiting the marks and defects alluded to in his paper; also a carrier for wet plates during long exposures, and some capital prints from negatives exposed from half-an-liour to two hours and threequarters.
 In reply to Mr. A. Brothers,
Mr. Pollitt said the longest time he had kept a wet plate moist by putting wet blotting-paper behind it was two hours and three-quarters.
 Mr. Wade exhibited a number of large and excellent photographs of Californian and American scenery, by Mr. C. E. Watkins and Mr. J. A. Taylor, of California, kindly lent by Mr. Taylor, of Princess-street, Manchester.
The usual votes of thanks closed a very interesting meeting.”]

EXHIBITIONS. 1876. PHILADELPHIA. CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION.
“Photography in the Great Exhibition. II.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:151 (July 1876): 196-202. [“In continuing our journey in Photographic Hall, we will rectify somewhat the order of things from which we departed last month. The screens are numbered in order, from west to east, commencing on the north side, but we, not regarding this, commenced where the exhibits seemed most complete, and numbered the screens as we proceeded. We now propose to take the proper numbers, and continue our review in the order commenced; first noticing some exhibits which were not in place or complete last month. We notice a great improvement in the appearance of the hall within the past two weeks, and with the completion of the exhibits the number of visitors has greatly increased, so that now Photographic Hall appears not to be the least attractive feature of the Great Exhibition….” “…On the east of Screen 5 is a collection of landscapes and architectural views by Mr. Thomas T. Sweeny, of Cleveland, Ohio. Mr. Sweeny is an outdoor worker of long experience, and gives us some fine illustrations of his proficiency. Also, on the same screen, a large and varied collection of cabinet size and stereoscopic views of American scenery, by George W. Thorne, 60 and 62 Nassau Street, New York. On the wall opposite this alcove are a number of 16 x 20 views of the Yosemite Valley by Messrs. Thomas Houseworth & Co., Nos. 9 and 12 Montgomery Street, San Francisco. …” “…On the east of Screen No. 4, and on the wall opposite this alcove, is the exhibit of Messrs. Bradley & Rulofson, of San Francisco, Cal. There are a few portraits, but the principal part of their plain work consists of large views, mostly in the Yosemite Valley. These are fine examples of landscape work, from which something may b f e learned by those interested in this department. But the most attractive part of Messrs. Bradley & Rulofson ‘s exhibit is comprised in the charming life-size picture of a little miss finished in pastel, and several crayons. The pastel is a most lovely picture, full of life and motion, while happiness is expressed in the doll and sunshade which she carries, as well as in the expression of the charming little subject. Of the Crayons, the head of the old man strikes us as peculiarly effective. The wonderfully plastic effect, together with the admirable play of light and shade, make it a study that is a pleasure to dwell upon….” “… p. 200. “…On the east of No. 3 is a grand collection, being no less than thirty-four 17 x 21 views of the “Yosemite and Pacific Coast, by Watkins, of San Francisco.” Mr. Watkins is said to be one of the pioneers of photography in California. These are certainly a magnificent series of views, and Mr. Watkins deserves great credit for his skill and energy in contributing to this exhibition so many of these truthful representations of scenes in that interesting part of our country….” pp. 200-201.]

EXHIBITIONS. 1876. PHILADELPHIA. CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION.
“Photographic Hall Notes.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:151 (July 1876): 222-223. [“Visit and study Rocher’s pictures. Payne Jennings’s Irish landscapes are charming. For elegant apparatus, see Scovill Manufacturing Company’s exhibit. See Mosher’s Autograph and Biographical Album of Representative Men. For carbon pictures, Allen & Powell’s exhibit excels anything in Photographic Hall. Watkins’s California views are fine. Landscape workers should see them. How are Kent’s large pictures made? Study them up, and see what conclusion you arrive at. Kurtz’s exhibit has something for all to study. Some of the best lessons in art may be found in Memorial Hall and the annex. Russia is just putting up a fine photographic display. The last is often best. Mr. Carbutt, Superintendent of Photographic Hall, makes a fine exhibit of transparencies by the “Woodbury process, including a number of beautiful lantern slides. “We hope to notice his collection more fully at a future time. Some excellent Egyptian views may be found in the Egyptian section in the Main Building.”]

EXHIBITIONS. 1876. PHILADELPHIA. CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION.
Vogel, Dr. H. “Photographic Sketches from the Centennial Grounds II.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:151 (July 1876): 234-236. Besides in the Main Building, there are photographs exhibited in Memorial Hall, especially Swedish and Norwegian, and some German (of the Photographic Society in Berlin). All others received their places in the Photographic Hall. Nearly three-fifths of the hall are filled with American photographs; and when we cast a look over the same, we notice instantly a great deference between the American and European pictures. Europe has sent, nearly exclusively, plain photographs (negative retouches not excepted), and, indeed, the plain pictures are the main exhibit of the European photographers; while America has exhibited a great number of life-size pictures, executed in crayon, pastel, and oil. We see at once that the position of the American photographer toward the public is an entirely different one from the European. From him the people expect work which in Europe would belong to the artist. In Europe, portraits in crayon, pastel, etc., are not known as productions of photographers. Now, many perhaps will make the remark that they indeed do not belong to the line of photography; but certainly it would be wrong if we would exclude these works which are ordered, executed, and delivered in the atelier of the photographer. If, in America, crayons, pastels, etc., are executed in the atelier of the photographer, we have, of course, to judge them also. The art jury has therefore to look only at the result; the way and manner of production is a question which, for the artist, is to be a secondary consideration. At the Paris Exhibition, in 1867, they would probably have excluded these photographs, executed by the assistance of a designer, from judgment, as there the jury consisted only of photographers, who wanted the plain photographs to be acknowledged. We notice, therefore, how different the point of view is from which we have to judge the photographer, as it certainly would be for a jury consisting in the greatest part of artists, the most competent to judge about pictures in oil, pastel, or crayon. It must be acknowledged that the Americans show an astonishing skill in the production of these life-size pictures. In Europe we would search in vain for hands to execute the same. Such pieces in crayon as exhibited by Kurtz, of New York, must be considered as first-class work; also the charcoal drawings by Sarony. Here a fine understanding of the form of nature is visible, which assists considerably in the change into the stroke manner, so necessary for a crayon. Kurtz made in this respect a further step. He has noticed very well that there exists a difference between the tint of a photograph and .the tint of a crayon, which is so much more apparent when the photograph changes after some time. He therefore prefers to transfer, so to say, the whole picture into charcoal, and then to take prints of the same by means of a certain process. In this manner a whole picture in crayon is produced, whose durability is guaranteed, a progress not to be depreciated, though the fact, that at last nothing remains of the photograph in the picture is of no consequence. The artist judges only the final result, and does not care about the chemical composition, and just as well, as there is nothing left in the plain photograph of the original negative taken at first. It is well understood that in these crayons, and also in pastel and oil pictures, the individual differences of the artists are remarkably apparent, as the quiet, precise, artistical harmony of the whole by Kurtz; the effective, thorough work by Sarony; the peculiar inclination to sharp-pointed effects by Ryder (Cleveland); the conscientious work by Bradley & Rulofson, Gutekunst, Notman, and others. The manner of cutting out life-size photographs and pasting them on backgrounds to be worked over by drawing, seems to me to be a difficult matter; roughnesses in the contour are too easily seen. The photographer being no artist, or having no artists at his disposal, must leave this field of work to his better situated colleagues. Besides these pictures, which give a peculiar expression to American photography, there are a great number of plain photographs of all sizes, showing that the American photographers are in every respect at the highest position of the art; but what many wished and expected, a characteristic new style, is not to be seen at the Exhibition. As long as such are not existing, we still have to use the old styles, and therefore the Adam Salomon and the Rembrandt effects are as yet performing their great part at the Exhibition….” “…The landscape compartment embraces a smaller domain, though among them are most respectable pieces. In the first line stands Watkins, in San Francisco, with his California views; next, following him, are Houseworth and Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco; they have delivered especially large prints. After them are many photographers, who have taken landscapes in connection with architecture, namely, Sweeny, in Cleveland; Reid, Paterson, and Doremus, of the same place. The latter, to judge by the picture, had a floating atelier on the Mississippi, and went with it from place to place, or followed some such original wandering existence….”]

“Editor’s Table.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:152 (Aug. 1876): 255. [“The following copy of a postal card notice will show how Dr. Vogel is being treated in San Francisco; San Francisco, July 10th, 1876. You are earnestly and cordially invited to attend a special meeting of the entire photographic profession, of the Pacific Coast, to be held at Bradley & Rulofson’s gallery, on Tuesday evening, the 18th inst., at 8 o’clock p.m., for the purpose of extending an appropriate welcome to the distinguished Photographic Author and Scientist Dr. Herman Vogel, of Berlin. All are invited to be present. Geo. D. Morse, C. E. Watkins, Jacob Shew.”]

“Centennial Exhibition. No. II.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 23:828 (Sept. 1, 1876): 417-418. [“Besides those in the main building, there are photographs exhibited in Memorial Hall, especially Swedish and Norwegian, and some German (of the Photographic Society in Berlin). All others received their places in the Photographic Hall. Nearly three-fifths of the hall are filled with American photographs; and when we cast a look over the same we notice instantly a great difference between the American and European pictures. Europe has sent, nearly exclusively, plain photographs (negative retouches not excepted), and, indeed, the plain pictures 1 are the main exhibit of the European photographers; while America has exhibited a great number of life-size pictures, executed in crayon, pastel, and oil. We see at once that the position of the American photographer toward the public is an entirely different one from the European. From him the people expect work which in Europe would belong to the artist. In Europe portraits in crayon, pastel, &c., are not known as productions of photographers. Now, many perhaps will make the remark that they indeed do not belong to the line of photography; but certainly it would be wrong if we would exclude these works which are ordered, executed, and delivered in the atelier of the photographer. If, in America, crayons, pastels, &c., are executed in the atelier of the photographer, we have, of course, to judge them also. The art jury has, therefore, to look only at the result; the way and manner of production is a question which, for the artist, is to be a secondary consideration. At the Paris exhibition in 1867 they would probably have excluded these photographs, executed by the assistance of a designer, from judgment, as there the jury consisted only of photographers, who wanted the plain photographs to be acknowledged. We notice, therefore, how different the point of view is from which we have to judge the photographer, as it certainly would be for a jury consisting in great part of artists the most competent to judge about pictures in oil, pastel, or crayon.
 It must be acknowledged that the Americans show an astonishing skill in the production of these life-size pictures. In Europe we would search in vain for hands to do the same. Such pieces in crayon as exhibited by Kurtz, of New York, must be considered as first-class work; also the charcoal drawings by Sarony. Here a fine understanding of the form of nature is visible, which assists considerably in the change into the stroke manner, so necessary for a crayon. Kurtz made in this respect a further step. He has noticed very well that there exists a difference between the tint of a photograph and the tint of a crayon, which is so much more apparent when the photograph changes after some time. He therefore prefers to transfer, so to say, the whole picture into charcoal, and then to take prints of the same by means of a certain process. In this manner a whole picture in crayon is produced, whose durability is guaranteed—a progress not to be depreciated, though the fact that at last nothing remains of the photograph in the picture is of no consequence. The artist judges only the final result, aud does not care about the chemical composition, and just as well, as there is nothing left in the plain photograph of the original negative taken at first.
 It is well understood that in these crayons, and also in pastel and oil pictures, the individual differences of the artists are remarkably apparent—as the quiet, precise, artistical harmony of the whole by Kurtz; the effective, thorough work by Sarony; the peculiar inclination to shai’p-pointed effects by Ryder (Cleveland); the conscientious work by Bradley and Rulofson, Gutekunst, Notman, and others. The manner of cutting out life-size photographs and pasting them on backgrounds to be worked over by drawing seems to me to be a difficult (p. 417) matter; roughnesses in the contour are too easily seen. The photographer being no artist, or having no artists at his disposal, must leave this field of work to his better-situated colleagues.
Besides these pictures, which give a peculiar expression to American photography, there are a great number of plain photographs of all sizes, showing that the American photographers are in every respect at the highest position of the art; but what many wished and expected, a characteristic new style, is not to be seen at the Exhibition. As long as such are not existing we still have to use the old styles, and, therefore, the Adam-Salomon and the Rembrandt effects are as yet performing their great part at the Exhibition. Many photographers show a predilection for them—like Anderson, of Richmond; Kent, Rochester; and Kiewning, of Greifswald (Germany).
Yet it is much more astonishing to find that, properly speaking, the father of the Rembrandt effects, Kurtz, has disdained to exhibit them; on the contrary, he has sent a large number of plain photographs, all of which avoid the dazzling contrasts of pitch black and snow white. In their place is to be observed a mild weakening in tints, which, by the public, is considered as less effective, but which certainly will attract the sympathy of the judge of fine arts. As in lights and shades, there are also avoided all extremes in position and illumination.
A quite different character is to be seen in the pictures of Sarony; they abound with what the Frenchman calls “chic.” We may shake the head as much as we please about the bold positions and the daring effects of light; they are wonderful anyhow, and they show the artist. It is surprising how well he understands how to adjust the too long and unpractical promenade size to his figures; it looks as if the size was cut to the figures. In respect to various positions Sarony produces some astonishing; he is never in want of ideas, and as he likes strong effects of light his pictures give an impression of brilliancy. We only regret that nearly all of his pictures show something of a theatrical air.
Right next to Sarony are the exhibits of Rocher, of Chicago, who this time has sent only plain photographs. He gives the most of his attention to the whole arrangement of the picture, to a stylish decoration, and a genrelike conception. Most of his pictures show in their selection of position and their subtle gradations of tint a certain nobleness of appearance, which make them very attractive, as in the group of the Two Sisters, Before the Looking-glass, the Fortune Teller, the Lady in Rococo Dress, and the excellent imperial border card.
The exhibits of Gutekunst, of Philadelphia, are grand. Besides large photographs of thorough work there is a long row of pictures of medium size, among them, especially, half-length pictures in cameo style, pressed out oval, and on deep, dark backgrounds, which are linely executed. There are also among his exhibits a large number of landscapes, which seem to be produced by combination printing. We think they are a little too dark, but they show that Gutekunst is an artist in many respects.
Among the portrait photographs there are backgrounds which attract a great share of attention; and hereby it ought to be mentioned that America has an artist who produces very excellent backgrounds, viz., Seavey, of New York. I wish we had some one like him in Europe; but there, unfortunately, we are obliged to paint the necessary backgrounds partly ourselves. In deepness of tint, perspective, and plasticity of effect Seavey’s backgrounds are certainly unsurpassed. Just as recognisable are his plastic firesides and similar pieces.
Kent, of Rochester, exhibited several pictures, which appear in half life-size, and, as advertised, are printed from direct negatives. Most of them are of the Rembrandt effect, and have a certain brilliancy. We find the same in Landy’s pictures; but it seems to be a very precarious undertaking to try to represent the ages of man, after Shakspeare’s known poem. Such a task should have its difficulties even for an artist, and can be considered as unsolvable by photography.
 Landy’s pictures of children are well known. Besides him, Hesler of Evanston, and Schwind and Kruger of New York, have delivered good pictures of children. The groups of the latter have an effect of uneasiness, on account of placing things that are too light in the foreground. Mosher of Chicago, Broadbent and Phillips of Philadelphia, Bigelow of Detroit, Alman of New York, and Bradley and Rulofson of San Francisco have delivered work in plain portraits which is worthy of acknowledgment.
 Especially ought to be mentioned the enlargements of Paxon, of New York. He delivers them plain, and seems, to judge by the exhibited specimens, to receive numerous orders from foreign photographers. If we count, besides those we have mentioned, Brady of New York, Gubelman of New Jersey, Wenderoth of Philadelphia, Cox of Baltimore, Hardy of Boston, Taylor of Philadelphia, Rice of Washington, Pach of New Jersey, and Freeman of Texas, then, we think, there can be no complaint about neglecting the branch of portraits in the American department.
The landscape compartment embraces a smaller domain, though among them are most respectable pieces. In the first line stands Watkins, of San Francisco, with his Californian views. Next, following him, are Houseworth and Bradley and Rulofson, of San Francisco; they have delivered especially large prints. After them are many photographers who have taken landscapes in connection with architecture, namely, Sweeny of Cleveland, and Reid, Paterson, and Doremus of the same place. The latter, to judge by the picture, had a floating atelier on the Mississippi, and went with it from place to place, or followed some such original wandering existence.
 Pach, of New York, is employed in taking pictures of horses, besides landscape scenes and also outdoor groups, in which he is not without success.
 Black, of Boston, has sent a row of his well-known Arctic pictures. In strong contrast to them are those of Marshall. There icebergs, here hot springs—the renowned geysers of the Yellowstone, m Colorado.
 More yet is represented in the branch of stereoscopies, of which Bierstadt, of Niagara, has the greatest exhibition; he has six hundred pieces exhibited, among which are stereos, from all parts of the world.
Further are to be mentioned Stoddard of Glen’s Falls, Reilly of Yosemite Yalley, and Cremer, with views of Philadelphia and line graphoscopes. Thorne of New York, and Butterfield of Boston have also delivered several prints with success. Alman, of New York, is distinguishing himself by clouds in the English style.
 —Phil. Phot. H. Vogel, Ph.D.” (p. 418)]

“Awards of the Centennial Exposition.” PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES 6:70 (Oct. 1876): 234. [“We copy from the New York Times of September 28th, the names of the Jurors who served in Group XXVII— Plastic and Graphic Art, in the Centennial Exposition. Below is a partial list of the names of the photographers in the United States who received the Medal of Merit.
                                    Group XXVII. Plastic And Graphic Art.
Judges.American-Frank Hill Smith, Boston; James L. Claghorn, President, Philadelphia; Prof. J. F. Weir, New Haven, Conn.; Brantz Mayer, Baltimore; Donald G. Mitchell, New Haven, Conn.; George Ward Nichols, Secretary, Cincinnati; Prof. Henry Draper, New York. Foreign-Charles West Cope, R. A., Great Britain; Peter Graham, Great Britain; Carl Schlesinger, Germany; Prof. A. Vogel, Germany; J. Emile Saintin, France; Fritz L. Von Dardel, Sweden; P. N. Arbo, Norway; Count of Donadio, Spain; A. Tantardini, Italy; Guglielmo de Sanctis, Italy; Carl Costenoble, Austria; Prof. J. V. Dablerup, Denmark; Thr. F. E. Van Heemskerck van Beest, Netherlands.
                                    Awards To United States Exhibitors.
200 L. G. Bigelow, Detroit, Mich., Photographs.
201 N. Sarony, New York City, Photographs.
202 D. Woodward, Washington City, Photography.
205 Centennial Photograph Company, Philadelphia, Pa., Photography.
209 John Reid, Paterson, N. J., Photographs.
211 American Photo-Lithographic Co., Heliographs.
213 C. S. Mosher, Chicago, Ill., Photographs.
215 J. H. Kent, Rochester, N. Y., Photographs.
216 Carl Seiler, Philadelphia, Pa., Photographs.
217 J. F. Ryder, Cleveland, Ohio, Photographs.
222 W. Kurtz, New York City, Photographs.
224 John Carbutt, Philadelphia, Pa., Heliographs.
228 Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco, Cal., Photographs.
230 Henry Rocher, Chicago, III., Photographs.
231 Thomas Houseworth, San Francisco, Cal., Photographs.
232 Charles Bierstadt, Niagara Falls, Photographs.
233 D. A. Anderson, Richmond, Va., Photographs.
234 C. E. Watkins, San Francisco, Cal., Photographs.”]  


“The Centennial Awards.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 13:155 (Nov 1876): 319-323. [The distribution of the awards to exhibitors at the Centennial Exhibition was made on Wednesday, September 27th, and we find among those connected with photography the following successful names: Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco, Cal., photographs; Henry Rocher, Chicago, III., photographs; J. F. Ryder, Cleveland, Ohio, photographs; William Kurtz, New York, photographs; N. Sarony, New York, photographs; J. H. Kent, Rochester, Nl Y., photographs; L. G. Bigelow, Detroit, Mich., photographs; Centennial Photographic Company, Philadelphia, photographs; C. D. Mosher, Chicago, 111., photographs; Carl Seiler, Philadelphia, photographs; Charles Bier stadt, Niagara Falls, N. Y., photographs; C. E. Watkins, San Francisco, Cal., photographs; D. H. Anderson, Richmond, Va., photographs; John Reid, Paterson. N. J., photographs; Dr. Woodward, Washington, D. C, photographs; John Carbutt. Philadelphia, heliographs; American Photo-lith. Company, New York, heliographs; Wm. B. Hazzard, Philadelphia, skylight shades; James Cremer, Philadelphia, graphoscopes; Alfred L. Hance, Philadelphia, photospecialties, consisting of gun-cotton, collodion, varnishes, etc…” p. 319.  “…List of American Exhibitors in Photography receiving Awards. Bigelow, L. Q., Detroit, Mich., Photographs. Sarony, N., New York City, Photographs. Centennial Photographic Company, Philadelphia, Pa., Photography. Reid, John, Paterson, N.. J., Photographs. American Photo-Lithograph Co., New York, Heliographs. Mosher, C. J., Chicago, Ill., Photographs. Kent, J. H., Rochester, N. Y., Photographs. Seiler, Carl, Philadelphia, Pa., Photographs. Ryder, J. F., Cleveland, Ohio, Photographs. Kurtz, W., New York City, Photographs. Carbutt, John, Philadelphia, Pa., Heliographs. Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco, Cal., Photographs. Rocher, Henry, Chicago. 111., Photographs. Houseworth, Thomas & Co., San Francisco, Cal., Photographs. Bierstadt, Charles, Niagara Falls, N. Y., Photographs. Anderson, D. H., Richmond, Va., Photographs. Watkins, C. E., San Francisco, Cal., Photographs. Woodward, J. J., Washington, D. C, Photographs….” pp. 321-322.]

1877

“Berlin Photographic Society.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 24:887 (May 4, 1877): 215. [“A meeting of this Society was held on the 16th March,—Dr. Vogel in the chair. The proceedings were commenced by the admission of several new members. A delegate juryman for the Amsterdam photographic exhibition was then chosen.
Herr Tiator, of Colmar, rose and protested against the unfavourable report made by the committee on his retouching powder, showing several written testimonies to its excellence—notably one from a Danish dealer in photographic goods, Herr Jacobsen.
Herr Prumm could not see how they should be expected to modify an opinion based upon an independent experiment in consequence of any number of letters from dealers.
The President read a letter from Herr Dietrich, of Banda-Neira, in the Malaccas. This gentleman has been engaged lately in photographing in the wilds of New Guinea, and the President remarked he was probably the photographer who had penetrated the farthest east under the equator. In a passage of the above letter Herr Dietrich propounds a novel mode of defending one’s self against the cannibals of the coast. He says:—“These cannibals are a very peculiar people, and the best way to get away from them with a whole skin is to marry one of them —the daughter of a chief is preferable (they are to be had at all prices); then, if one be not afraid of being eaten up by one’s own wife, one has nothing to fear from the rest of the tribe, who will treat one as a friend whenever he returns to their country.”
The President then showed some landscapes taken along the course of the Pacific railway and in Oregon by Mr. Watkins; and after the transaction of some local business the meeting was adjourned….” (Etc., etc.) (p. 215)]

1878

WATKINS, CARLETON EUGENE. (1829‑1916) (USA)
“Nevada. ‑ The Source of Our Silver Wealth ‑ Panoramic View of Virginia City, Showing the Great Bonanza Mines on the Comstock Load, Including the Consolidated Virginia, the California, the Ophir, the Gould & Curry, the Hale & Norcross, the Savage, Etc. ‑ From Photographs by Watkins, of San Francisco, Cal.” FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER 45:1170 (Mar. 2, 1878): following p. 456. [4 l. foldout. “Supplement Gratis with No. 1,170 of “Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper.” (In this copy, bound into the August issue.) This is a large, four-page foldout, with a view of Virginia City, NV.]

1881

WATKINS, CARLETON EUGENE. (1829‑1916) (USA)
“Matters of the Month.” PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES 11:130 (Oct. 1881): 402. [“Mr. I. W. Taber, No. 8 Montgomery Street, San Francisco, who a few weeks ago made us a pleasant visit, has returned safely to his home and added another branch to his already extensive business. He has purchased the well known Watkins collection of negatives of the Yo-semite Valley and the Pacific coast, and will continue the publication of the photographs therefrom. The additional business derived from the sale of pictures made from these negatives will be very extensive, as we have reason to know. Mr. Taber reports “business good” on the Pacific slope.”]

1883

“Edinburgh Photographic Society.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 30:1223 (Oct. 12, 1883): 612. [“The ninth meeting of the current session was held in 5, St. Andrew-square on the evening of Wednesday, the 3rd inst. The President being still to attend, the chair was occupied by Mr. Norman Macbeth, R.S.A….” “… The Chairman calling on Mr. G. T. Tunny to read an account of his recent American tour, in graceful terms congratulated him on his safe return and welcomed him back in the name of the Society. The very large attendance indicated the widespread desire to see and hear what Mr. Tunny had to bring before them.
Mr. Tunny by means of a map indicated the extent of his tour, and pointing out the magnificent views with which he had adorned the wall paid a high tribute to the untiring industry and artistic ability of Mr. Watkins, who, with nearly two tons of impedimenta, mounted on sixteen mules, secured under the most trying circumstances those first photographs of the wonderful Yosemite Valley.
The Chairman, in proposing a vote of thanks to Mr. Tunny for his interesting communication, said he hoped that on a future occasion he would favour the Society with matter more directly affecting the photgraphic profession, as the many men with whom he had been brought in contact and the number of studios he had visited must have enabled him to pick up many items of utility which would well occupy another evening in discussing.
Dr. Thompson hoped that Mr. Tunny would entertain the suggestion of the Chairman, as one of his experience must have met with many things specially valuable to photographic practice—many things both chemical and manipulative which he was not able to introduce into a descriptive paper.
Mr. Wm. Dougall hoped that transparencies could be made from the wonderful views, to be available for a “popular evening.”
The Chairman read an account of a sky-shade that Mr. John Parker, President of the Glasgow Photographic Society, had devised.
 Mr. Howie thanked the Chairman for his courtesy in bringing such useful apparatus before the Society, and for his lucid explanation of the details of its construction….” (Etc., etc.)
“…Cordial votes of thanks to the gentlemen who had contributed to the proceedings of the evening, and to the Chairman, terminated the proceedings.”]

Tunny, J. G. “A Few Notes of a Tour from Maine to California.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 30:1227 (Nov. 9, 1883): 678. [“Concluded from page 632.” “Photography in San Francisco stands very high, both in regard to portraiture and landscape work. I was fortunate enough to gam the friendship of Mr. Tabor and Mr. Watkins, whose names are known all over Europe—the latter from the magnificent views of the Yosemite Valley and the former from the beautiful portrait photography that he has sent out from his large establishment, which is on a magnificent scale.
 I owe to both Mr. Tabor and Mr. Watkins a deep feeling of gratitude
not only for their personal kindness, but also for the opportunity they have given me for making the display on the walls this evening. These magnificent views will convey to the members of the Society a better idea of the inexhaustible beauty and grandeur of the Yosemite Valley and Pacific Slope than a volume of word-painting. The drives for many miles around San Francisco and along the Pacific Slope are of the most charming description. The ride to Monterey, formerly the capital of the Spanish territory, is about 125 miles south of San Francisco, at the extremity of the bay.’ Recently it has been resurrected, and no doubt in the future it will resume its former magnificence. It has in recent years come into prominence as a favourite sanitorium for the Pacific coast. The climate is wonderful, the difference between the mean temperature of January and that of July being only six degrees. Monterey has one of the most commodious hotels, embowered among fine old trees, and surrounded by all kinds of flowers and shrubs—a perfect Eden, endless beauties everywhere for the artist and the photographer. After our somewhat prolonged journeying along the Pacific coast we had to bid good-bye to the scenes that had thrilled us with wonder and admiration, and bid adieu to the many kind friends who had so greatly enhanced our pleasure and enjoyment. On the 18th of June we began our return journey on the Central Pacific R. R. to pass through Nevada, Utah, Nebras’ a, Iowa, Illinois, and Canada. We left San Francisco on the ferry boat running across the harbour to the end of Oakland Pier. We then entered the famous silver palace cars, sweeping through fruitful plains and vine-clad villages along the picturesque San Pueblo Bay. The Salano, the largest steam ferry-boat in the world, received our train and conveyed us to Benina, the former capital of California. We reached Sacramento, the capital of the State, by a bridge, greatly admired, 600 feet long. This city can well boast of a fine capitol building; it is 220 feet in length. The city itself is very beautiful, all the houses being surrounded by luxuriant shrubbery and the streets shaded with magnificent trees. From Sacramento to Colfax we passed through many smiling villages rapidly becoming cities. From Colfax we began in earnest to climb the Sierras. In fifty miles we discovered that we had ascended 6,000 feet, and in looking back we saw as charming a panorama as ever was looked upon. The line runs along the edge of the precipice, descending 2,000 feet, and is carried on a narrow shelf excavated in the mountain-side, workmen having been swung down in baskets. The scenery was varied, magnificent, and exciting. At the summit we reached the highest point on the Central Pacific line. Fifty miles from there is the town of Truckee, situated in the centre of a picturesque region. From there we entered the snow sheds, which are erected for the protection of the track, and extend a distance of twenty-eight miles; the erection of these sheds must have been a herculean task. We were then 230 miles from San Francisco, and proceeded through Nevada, the youngest of the States, and reached Ogden, from which point we started for Salt Lake City. We crossed the great American Desert, which is upwards of one hundred miles square. Nothing grows there but a sapless weed, five or six inches high; there is nothing that could sustain animal life for any length of time. The earth is very alkaline; the dust came in whirling clouds, blinding us all. Some terrible devastation must have passed over this region.
On the Rio Grande railway we made our way to Zion, or Salt Lake City, which is about thirty-six miles distant. It lies at the southern extremity of the great Salt Lake. The streets are 128 feet wide, and cross . veil other at right angles. Trees are planted on both sides, and ditches filled with clear, running water we found in every street. All the luxuriant foliage that is presented to the eye has been the result of enormous labour; every stream of water has been brought from the mountains; every little home has its orchard of pear, plum, peach, and apple trees, and all has been done by industry and irrigation. The enormous Tabernacle was the first object that attracted our attention. Its length and width is about 250 feet, and is one of the ugliest buildings I have seen, but its acoustic properties are most perfect. We enjoyed a bathe in the briny lake. It is so buoyant that you can float about like a cork. It is not as dense as the Dead Sea, but, if you happen to get a mouthful of it, it is intensely salt, Though pleasant and not horribly bitter, like the Dead Sea. We left Salt Lake City after spending a very pleasant time and gaining a great deal of information about their peculiar social institutions. On leaving the city we ran along the Jordan Valley, which runs into the Salt Lake. We enjoyed. the views along its banks for fifteen miles. From Provo we made the ascent of the Wasatch range. Soldier Summit is the name given to the spot where the railway reaches its greatest height. In passing through Castle Valley, its fantastic and wonderful formations excite every emotion of the soul, its kaleidoscopic pictures being presented at every turn.
We next made the ascent of Cedar Creek Summit. The grade was sometimes so great as 211 feet to the mile. We then traversed the black I canon of the Gunnison, which is thirty miles. This canyon is one of the grandest in the Rocky Mountains. The famous Marshall Pass had to here overtaken—upwards of 10,000 feet. It is far higher than any of the waggon passes of the Alps. The train proceeded on its way eastward, and we entered the never-to-be-forgotten Royal Gorge. This is the most stupendous piece of railway engineering that has been attempted. The track runs for 200 feet on a shelf laid upon iron brackets morticed into the perpendicular rock. We had the surging river below and 3,000 feet of a perpendicular rock above. Every voice was hushed and the soul filled with awe. The photographer has not yet been here. I was more overwhelmed with the awful grandeur of this mighty canon than with the Yosemite Valley, and when the photographer has accomplished his task the world will become acquainted with scenes overwhelmingly grand. From the Royal Gorge we got back to Denver and rapidly reached Chicago. We did not tarry long there. The last time I saw that city a large proportion of it was lying in ashes. Now its public buildings surpass any on the American continent. From Chicago we went on to Detroit, in Michigan, a beautiful city situated on the banks of the Detroit river. It has many large manufactories and foundries. Photography here is flourishing. Dry plates were not much in vogue, but before I left I saw their adoption in four or five of the leading galleries. On our way we stopped at Niagara Falls to see how they stood after seeing the Yosemite Valley, and I must confess that they excited my wonder and admiration more than all I had seen in the valley. I have hurried my hearers through a trip. Only a thread skeleton have I given you. I hope many of you may be privileged to fill in the blanks and crevices I have left. J. G. Tunny.” (p. 678)]

Pringle, Andrew. “Round the World. V.” BRITISH JOURNAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY 30:1234 (Dec. 28, 1883): 788-790. [“…I have now travelled a good deal in my time, and seen a good many of the “show places” of the world; but for grandeur, interest, and beauty combined nothing has so completely fascinated or astonished me as the Yosemite Valley. Leaving Clarke’s early on the 18th we drove up hill for a good many miles till we got to about 7.000 feet above sea level. Then almost suddenly we saw below us a sight never to be forgotten. Right in front of us was a winding, steep road leading down into a valley with sides almost perpendicular and of enormous height, consisting of bright grey granite. From Inspiration Point we saw the valley in grand perspective. On our right was the Bridal Veil Waterfall, falling 940 feet over the face of the Graces, themselves 3,400 feet high. Further away was Sentinal Dome, 4,160 feet high, and in the far distance, Half Dome, 4,953 feet of cliff, and Clouds’ Rest, 521 feet. On our left appeared El Capitan—an almost perpendicular granite cliff of 3,300 feet, and other granite faces stretching away back into the distance. Right below us, partly screened by pine trees of great size, lay the valley, about six and a-half miles long at the bottom, with the Merced River meandering along its course. As we went down into the valley many other cliffs came into view—the North Dome, 3,633 feet; Glacier Point, 3,257 feet; Washington Column; the Cathedral spires, 2,660 feet; the Yosemite Fall, 2,550 feet, and many stupendous cliffs, of which I cannot remember the names. (p. 811)
I have a view taken by Mr. Fiske, of Yosemite Valley, from Inspiration Point—at once one of the most successful photographs I have seen, and a splendid birds’-eye view of this wonderful region. The bed of the Merced in the Valley is 3,850 feet above the sea, and all the heights I have mentioned are calculated from the valley level; so an idea may he formed of what the heights as usually calculated are. The valley is from half a mile to a mile and a-half broad, and runs about north by east and south by west. The remarkable points about it are the height and perpendicularity of its walls, averaging about 4,000 feet in height, and the paucity and smallness of debris lying at the foot of the walls. The latter feature precludes the idea of any sudden tearing or, indeed, sudden action of any kind. I think the valley must have subsided gradually in some way I cannot quite understand. Autumn is not at all a good time to visit the valley; for, not only are most of the cascades dried up, but the dust and dryness of all things are very uncomfortable. I found the valley so narrow and some of the cliffs so high that I could not photograph them, and never in my life did I see any object so change its appearance under different aspect of light and shade as the Cathedral Spires, which for the former reason I failed to photograph.
 On the 19th August I drove a mile or two to the Mirror Lake—a small pool of water near the head of the valley, and entirely shut in by very lofty granite cliffs, Mount Watkins being one of the cliffs named after Mr. Watkins, a photographer, who has done much to publish and portray these regions. When I arrived at the lake the sun had not reached the pool, but a heavy mist hung over it, and its surface was as glass. A small pebble thrown in would have spoiled the whole affair. There was not a breath of wind to ruffle the smooth surface, and I took no fewer than nine negatives from various points—some just before and others just after the sun had got high enough in the zenith to reach the lake. After breakfast I carried the camera about a mile from Cooke’s Hotel, where we were staying, and got a view of the Half-Dome, Clouds’ Rest, and some other peaks; but 1 was forced to take rather an ugly foreground, which has spoiled the effect of my pictui’e. This day the thermometer marked 103° in the shade at noon, and about half-past ten in the forenoon a breeze (even amounting at times to a wind) always rises at this season in the valley….” (p. 812) (Etc., etc.)

1885

“Photography at the New Orleans Exposition.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 22:258 (June, 1885): 161-172. [“Having now given a complete list of the regular phonographic exhibits at New Orleans, we proceed to keep our promise to present our readers with a catalogue of photographic representation in the U. S. Government and States Building. We have frequently alluded to the fact that this building had robbed the regular photographic exhibit of a great deal that ought to hang with it, but we had no idea that it had done so to such a great extent, for we find in the Government Building a collection that would well serve to make up a national photographic exhibit. At the Centennial Exhibition of 1876, in the splendid photographic hall there was a greater number of processes represented, but the useful appliances of photography were not nearly so largely shown to the public as they are here. Here photography, indeed, makes up a very important element in the whole grand educational exhibit collated by the Government and the States and Territories. Those who carefully read the catalogue given below will see that it has been made to help almost every department of art and industry that is known to our people; in some cases, scientists who have been interesting themselves for some time in collecting material pertaining to their specialties, have relied upon photography entirely to illustrate the result of their work. We have gone over the ground very carefully with our stenographer; and, although some of the pictures in this building may have escaped our notice, we believe we have pretty thoroughly catalogued the productions of our art, and are able to say the list is quite complete. We began our work at the northern entrance of the building, and took the list in three sections. First, that represented by the States; second, that represented by the Government; and, third, what was to be found in the departments devoted to education, to the colored people, and to the woman’s and temperance departments….” p. 161. “…California. Views of natural scenery and big trees. J. Pitcher Spooner, Stockton, exhibits a very unique collection of the mammoth farm machinery used in the golden land, and some splendid views of Stockton, all of excellent quality as photographs. Mr. Spooner’s architectural views are particularly fine; one of a tumble-down old shanty, with the inmates sitting at the door, is the gem picture of the lot, though all are very pretty. Photography is also made use of here for showing up the exhibits of various manufacturers, fruit-growers, and merchants, some of which are of displays made at other Expositions. Some animal and landscape pictures by W. A. Clinch, Grass Valley, are also worthy of mention. Among the others is one entitled “A Big Load of Logs,” the load containing 14,958 feet of round timber. Three very fine views are shown here, without any photographer’s name attached. They illustrate the production of lumber from the boom to the board-yard. The next collection is of Pacific Coast scenery by Mr. I. W. Taber. It exceeds anything else here in our line, and is a much finer exhibit than that made by Mr. Taber in the photographic section proper; a fair instance of how State pride has influenced photographers to bend towards their State exhibits, rather than to enhance the main exhibition of their art. We have no fault to find, however, so long as photography is well represented and receives no snubbing, as it is apt to do. The New Almaden Quicksilver Mining and Smelting Works, and hydraulic mining at North Bloomfield, Nevada Co., Cal., are finely illustrated. Some meteoric iron, and a photograph illustrating the beautiful form of crystallized gold, are very good illustrations of lens work. The last-named specimen was found about sixty feet below’ the surface, in a decomposed quartz seam, between slate. Another photograph is of a meteoric iron mass, whose weight is eighty-four pounds. It was found in 1880 near Shingle Springs, Eldorado Co., Cal. Twelve frames of 5×8 views of the Pacific Coast scenery, of Belmont, Monterey, and surroundings, and of the Yosemite Valley, by Fiske, San Francisco, Cal., are gems of photographic art, and place Mr. Fiske in the front rank. C. E. Watkins, San Francisco, Cal., also displays several frames of magnificent pictures of California scenery, coast and landscape, with others of the old Carmel Mission at Monterey — whale fishing, architectural views, summer resorts, natural springs, the fishing interests of Monterey, and life in the wilderness. The gems of the collection are 20 x 24 views of the “Hotel Del Monterey,” “The American’s Favorite Winter Resort,” and the old “Carmel Mission Church.” The photograph of Mr. Thomas Hill’s splendid painting, “The Last Spike,” by Mr. Watkins, is also displayed here. Three views of the “Hercules Dredgery,” by a nameless photographer, exhibit the interest of the country in. this direction, and how they are applied….” p. 162. “…Washington Territory. In the department of the “Washington Territory, we find a very pretty cabinet of natural scenery of Seattle, by Mr. Peiser. Idaho. Mr. Wm. H. Jackson, of Denver, again comes to our help, and illustrates the scenery of Idaho, which we find displayed in that section. Also a series of views by Watkins, of San Francisco, of Columbia River scenery. …” p. 168.]

1887

“Editor’s Table. Pictures Received.” PHILADELPHIA PHOTOGRAPHER 24:294 (Mar. 19, 1887): 190. [“From Mr. W. G. C Kimball, Concord, N. H., come some views of the late railroad disaster at the White River Bridge, Vermont. Some of them were taken the day after, while the ruins were still smoking. They are excellent works, and speak well for Mr. Kimball’s enterprise. He has a series of twenty of them, all most interesting. Mr. Watkins, of San Francisco, is one of the old-time photographers, and a good one. His views of Columbia River scenery, in Oregon, we have not seen surpassed. In the way of instantaneous work, we have two magnificent things, really unequalled, of the great blasts by which the channel of the Columbia River was cleared. He has in both caught the very most interesting moments — once at the first explosion, the gravel and rocks flying out of a cloud of turbid water; and again when the column then seen starting reaches its utmost height, over a thousand feet up in the air — a superb spectacle. From Mr. D. Banks, Sleepy Eye, Minn., some excellent views of snow-plows pushing their way through great railroad drifts; also some fine examples of his portrait work.”]

“Pictures Received.” PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES AND AMERICAN PHOTOGRAPHER 17:317 (Oct. 14, 1887): 520. [“Clearing the channel of Columbia River,” Oregon, of Watkins’ new photo series, is an exceedingly fine specimen of instantaneous work. The picture reminds us very much of the better photographs made of the recent Flood Rock explosion in the East River. Mr. Watkins is an enterprising young photographer who promises well, and deserves all the encouragement which we can give him.”]

[Advertisement.] “Watkins Palace View Parlors of Pacific Coast Scenery.” OVERLAND MONTHLY Ser. 2, vol. 10, no. 60 (Dec. 1887): adv. section, unpaged n. 166.
[                                   “26 New Montgomery St. Under Palace Hotel.
                                                            San Francisco, Cal
City of San Francisco and Suburbs, Big Trees, Geysers, Shasta, Lake Tahoe, Central Pacific Railroad, Nevada, Arizona, Southern Pacific Railroad, Southern California, Monterey, Santa Cruz, Hotel Del Monte, Cypress Groves, Placer, Quartz and Hydraulic Mining
THE NEW NORTH-WEST, OREGON, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, BRITISH COLUMBIA,
                                                                    Embracing
Tacoma, Seattle, Puget Sound, Victoria, Columbia River, Northern Pacific R. R., Montana, Idaho, and the great Yellowstone National Park.
            These Views are to be obtained in all sizes, from Stereoscopic to Imperial.
                                    Tourists and all others are respectfully invited to call,
                              Rear entrance from the South end of the Palace Hotel Corridor.”
This advertisement also published throughout n. s. vol. 11 (1888) WSJ.]

1898

“Publishers’ Column.” OVERLAND MONTHLY Ser. 2, vol. 32, no. 188 (Aug. 1898): adv. p. 19.
[“The fame of Watkins as a scenic photographer is world-wide. His celebrated Pacific Coast Views may be obtained at 1249 Market St., San Francisco. Write for catalogue.”}
[The Overland Monthly began adding half-tone photographic illustrations to its articles in the late 1880s, and they seemed to use Watkins photographs occasionally when appropriate. This continued at least through 1909.
Examples:
“Phil Sheridan’s First Fight” (Oct. 1889) Two views of the Columbia River, pp. 337, 339.
“Dairying in California.” (Apr. 1891) A Kern Pasture, p. 338; A Marin Pasture, p. 339; Feeding, p. 349.
“The Greek Church on the Pacific.” (Nov. 1895) The Russian Church, San Francisco, p. 472.
Etc., etc.
 Its impossible to know exactly, but it seems that the editors pulled images from Watkins archived collections, rather than commissioning him to photograph specific subjects. WSJ]

1918

Turrill, Charles B., “An Early California Photographer: C. E. Watkins.” NEWS NOTES OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARIES 13:1 (Jan. 1918): 29‑37.
[“Note. The following account of the life and work of C. E. Watkins was written to accompany a catalog of the Watkins’ stereoscopic views. It is printed here as it is believed that the work of Mr Watkins was a valuable one for California, and also that it is well to draw the attention of California libraries to the worth of these stereoscopic views, some of which every library may have. The State Library would be glad to complete its set and would like to hear from libraries having any of the Watkins or Hart stereoscopic views, which they would be willing to donate to, or deposit or exchange with the State Library.
The accompanying catalog of Watkins’ stereoptic views is an accurate transcript made by me several years ago from Mr. Watkins’ negative register. It is a complete copy of what is designated as “Watkins’ New Series. Any other Watkins’ stereos, excepting the Hart stereos, to be referred to later, belonged to the earlier work of Watkins. Those bearing smaller numbers are extremely rare.
The series of Watkins’ stereoptic views in the State Library collection numbered, for instance, 9, 41, 73, 330, etc., are a portion of what Watkins designated as the “Hart negatives.” This series, numbering somewhat more than three hundred, was made by A. A. Hart, a Sacramento photographer, during the period of the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad. Watkins purchased these negatives many years ago, and incorporated them in his series, printing for sale a portion of them. I have a complete catalog of these Hart negatives which I also copied from Watkins’ record, and which is annexed to this copy as a part thereof. It is questionable whether there are prints in existence of all these negatives. My collection lacks perhaps a dozen or so, and it is the largest collection of the Hart views in existence.
The reason for calling these Watkins’ views “New Series” is that at one time advantage was taken of the gentleman’s absence from the city and through the dishonorable treatment of a man who had advanced money to him a sale was made of his entire property at his studio, 26 Montgomery street. At that sale the negatives and photographic equipment were purchased in the interest of I. W. Taber. Prior to that time Mr Taber had been known as a portrait photographer. though in those days the lines were not closely drawn between portrait and view men. Watkins’ earlier work formed the basis and the greater part of the well known Taber collection of scenic negatives. After losing his property Watkins started his photographic life anew, and with the knowledge of what were the most salable subjects retook these on the various sizes of negatives which he used, giving to the new work the title of “Watkins’ New Series.”
Carleton E. Watkins was born in the State of New York and came to California as a young man. He was working as a clerk in a store on Montgomery street in 1854 when the Montgomery block was erected. He has told me of watching that construction, and it is an interesting fact to note his statement that the lot on which the Montgomery Block was erected was driven almost solid with piles. As the old gentleman expressed it, it was a “forest of piles.” Being on made ground this “Not printed here. On file in State Library for reference. (p. 29) construction is undoubtedly the great reason for the safety of that building which has withstood every earthquake shock that San Francisco has experienced since its erection.
It was about this time that Watkins began his life career. He became acquainted with R. H. Vance, who had a gallery in San Jose, as well as in San Francisco. It chanced that the operator in the San Jose gallery suddenly quit his job and Vance asked the young man Watkins to go down and take charge of the gallery until he got a new man. Those were the days of the daguerreotype. Watkins went by stage to San Jose, and the gallery was turned over to his care. He knew absolutely nothing in regard to photographic processes, and was simply for the first few days a care-taker of the place. In that town the great amount of business done in a photograph gallery-or as it was then called, a daguerreotype gallery-was on Sunday. On Friday or Saturday Vance visited San Jose to see how the young man was getting along. He had not gotten a new operator, so he showed the young man how to coat the daguerreotype plate and how to make an exposure for a portrait. This instruction occupied only a few minutes, and naturally did not go into the minutiae of the profession. Vance told Watkins that when the visitors came in on Sunday he could make a bluff at making the exposures and take their money and that when they came back the following week he would have an operator there to make over anything that had to be made over-it being the idea of both that the green young man would not succeed in his daguerreotype operations. good fortune would have it, he did succeed, however, and no new operator was ever sent from San Francisco to take the place his predecessor had resigned. He remained for a short period operating and entirely conducting the Vance gallery in San Jose. While I am not at the present time absolutely certain about the two daguerreotypes of Mission Santa Clara, (one of which exists, and the other of which we have a Watkins photographic copy) both were probably made by Watkins during this San Jose career. In the Vance gallery in San Jose he found a number of landscape daguerreotypes. A few of these he copied. One is that of a daguerreotype (destroyed in the 1906 fire) of Sutter’s Mill at Coloma, with Marshall standing in the foreground. While I do not recall that Watkins ever told me that this was a Vance daguerreotype. I have always considered that it was. That daguerreotype was made about 1850. Watkins had two other copies of the mining settlement at Mormon Island, which belonged to this same series of daguerreotypes. The daguerreotype of Mission San Jose now in the Golden Gate Park Memorial Museum was another of this old series. Watkins had made a photographic copy of this, probably at least thirty years ago. As a matter of verification, some three years ago, I also photographed the daguerreotype in the Golden Gate Park Museum. The two photographs show distinctly that they were taken from but one daguerreotype.
In 1856-7 Watkins visited New Idrea and the Almaden quicksilver mines. This was during the time of the celebrated litigation and his photographs were of value, undoubtedly, as evidence, and he received quite an incentive in his photographic career from the sale of pictures. (p. 30)
This may safely be called the beginning of his work as a photographer in contradistinction to a daguerreotypist.
It may be mentioned here that his experience in lighting, posing, etc., gained in the gallery in San Jose led to his doing a vast amount of portrait work. The specimens of this portion of Watkins’ career are extremely rare. The earlier ones will be found almost entirely in the old fashioned card-de-viste. While on this point, I would state that one of the noted pieces of Watkins’ portrait work was the celebrated portrait group showing William C. Ralston and the employees of the Bank of California, made in 1874. This large picture is remarkable for its system of construction. Each figure in the group was carefully posed (with the pre-arranged plan of its being placed in a large picture) as a portrait study in Watkins’ studio, at 26 Montgomery street. Prints of these portraits were made and carefully trimmed around the margins and mounted on a large sheet of Wathman drawing paper. Then Burgess, the writing and drawing teacher, carefully drew, in india ink the entire background for these figures, representing a room in the Bank. This large picture was afterward photographically copied by Watkins; but these copies are now extremely rare.
Watkins returned to San Francisco during 1857 or 1858. He kept no definite record on his negatives as to when they were taken and it was difficult in his old age for him to state definitely when certain negatives were made. In his entire collection there are but one or two exceptions to this rule. These are the stereoscopic negatives made during the period of the Centennial celebration of 1876, which covered a period of three days, and one Southern California view. Very few of the old Watkins pictures from ’57 to the latter 60’s have been found. I have probably either the originals or copies of nearly all that exist.
It must be borne in mind that all these photographs were made on wet plates. Owing to the scarcity of glass, if it was found that the prints from the negatives proved unsalable or a commercial order had been fully executed, the glass was cleaned off and again coated for another exposure. Watkins had several extra prints of most of these. These were at his home and did not escape from him when he lost his negatives as above; some were quickly made proofs and others imperfect. prints. I copied all but about a dozen of these which were in Watkins’ possession at the time of the 1906 fire, when everything in his gallery was burned. A stereo of this period can be recognized by the fact that it is mounted on a plain stereo mount and the title (sometimes with a number and sometimes without) written in ink beneath the picture, or on one end of the mount. Usually Watkins wrote his name at the end of these mounts. What might be called the Second Series of Watkins’ stereos which Taber secured, were always mounted on printed mounts, bearing serial numbers. Usually these mounts bore a copyright notice and on the reverse was printed a reproduction of the medal awarded at the Paris Exposition, being the first medal, according to Watkins, ever awarded for view photographs. Watkins’ earlier stereos were all taken by what was then known as a stereo camera.
The Hart stereos were also taken in the same way. In (p. 31) the “new series” of stereos a different system was adopted. Watkins had constructed a camera which would work a plate 5″x14″. Thus he made at each exposure two negatives approximately 5″x7″. From these ends of his stereoscope plate he made prints, approximately 5×7, which he published as his “Boudoir Series,” using the same plates for stereoscopic views by employing mats, properly cut out. He printed a certain portion from each negative for a stereo. In the catalog of his “new” series in certain instances two or more serial numbers are given, connected by brackets, as, for instance, 3013 and 3014. The meaning of this is that, using one mat, the proper portions of the large stereo negative were used for a certain view, as, for instance, 3013, and by repeating the process with another mat the stereoptic view 3014 was produced. In at least one instance, the interior of the dining room of the Baldwin Hotel, three of these stereoptic pictures were printed from one negative. In my research in regard to photographs and photographic methods I believe that this system of Watkins was never used by any one except himself.
We have seen that Watkins had returned to San Francisco some time in the latter part of 1857, or the early part of 1858. The New York country boy was gifted with a deep love for nature. The young man who had been forced through circumstances to make good, in his mature years did more to introduce to the world and to perpetuate the scenic beauties of California than any other man who has lived in our State. In 1858 or 1859, he visited the Mariposa Grove. He was the first man who photographed the “Grizzly Giant.” A print from that negative showing Galen Clark standing by the side of the “Grizzly Giant” is our first photographic reproduction of the sequoia gigantia. These trees had been drawn previous to that time and had been illustrated in Hutchings California Magazine and on old letter sheets, but Watkins is entitled to the credit of having been the first man to photograph any of them. In 1861 Watkins first visited the Yosemite Valley and made the first 18×22 landscape photographs in California, if not in the world. In our present day photographic methods, it is almost impossible to understand the difficulties of the task and the indomitable energy and courage of the man who produced those pictures. Watkins had had constructed in San Francisco a camera sufficiently large for this class of work. From the window of his studio (on the southeast corner of Clay and Kearny streets) he made a test plate. This is quite likely his view “Over the Plaza.” The next morning he set out on his pilgrimage. At that time travel to the Yosemite Valley was difficult and the Valley itself accessible only by very crude trails. At least twelve mules were required to pack the outfit of the indomitable photographer. It must be borne in mind that large glass plates formed a very important part of his equipment. The tent used in coating and developing these plates was a load for one mule. This young man was compelled to take five mules in his train carrying camera, tent, etc., around the Valley with him, from point to point. As each picture was made the tent had to be set up, the plates coated and then immediately exposed and at once developed. Photographic processes were slow, as also the exposure, which must necessarily be prolonged. One of the most (p. 32) beautiful pictures in this early series-a view of Sentinel Rock-was taken in the early morning light, with an hour’s exposure, before the sun had risen on that part of the valley. Only by this method was it possible to have stillness among the leaves of the trees. These prolonged exposures will explain why there is no detail in the foam indicated in the waterfalls, as is shown by the rapid processes of today. When Watkins had finished his work on the floor of the Valley and wished to reach Sentinel Dome he was compelled to retrace his course for a considerable distance, down through the gorge toward Coulterville, and then gradually make trails backward until he reached the southern wall of the Great Valley. These old photographs are now extremely rare.
It was Watkins’ practice to devote a large portion of the summer to photographic trips to different parts of the State, leaving his gallery and studio in San Francisco in the hands of an assistant. Incidentally it may be mentioned that during the early 80’s while he was at 422 Montgomery street, on the upper floor of the Austin Building, where he lived with his wife and children, he had as a printer a most capable Chinaman. This man whom Watkins had trained for this particular line of work, was careful and efficient. He became an adept in “Silvering” the old albumen paper and in the difficult chemical manipulations required in early day photography. He got out the negatives and did the printing, while Mrs Watkins and an assistant attended to the business part of the establishment. It was along about this time that Watkins opened an elaborate establishment in one of the stores on the New Montgomery street side of the Palace Hotel. This room was handsomely carpeted and fitted up with solid walnut show cases, tables and easels for the display of the superb large photographs that Watkins had made. These were of the new series. About this time Watkins made a continuous exhibition of his 18×22 views, (entirely filling the wall space and with center structures covered with views) in the second story of the Aquarium Building at Woodward’s Gardens. It was his habit along about this time to sell many of his photographs already framed. These were always framed in heavy black walunt frames, usually with a gilt band close to the picture, which was always matted. He also sold his larger views in portfolio form. For some of his earlier stereos issued during the 60’s and perhaps as late as the early 70’s, he used a sliding cloth-covered card board box holding respectively one or two dozen. Along about that time these pictures were sold for $5.00 per dozen.
In 1868 Watkins made his first Oregon trip. The stereos, probably something over a hundred in number, made along the Columbia River, were the first photographic reproductions of its scenery. At least this is the statement which Watkins made to me many years ago. Later, while working up his new series, Watkins again visited the northwest. His stereo series for this trip commence with No. 5201. It may be noted that it was Watkins’ rule in numbering his negatives, to begin a series with the first unit of a new hundred or a new thousand. The reason for this was to allow filling in with subsequent negatives should they be made, in order that those relating to a particular locality (p. 33) should, as far as possible, be numbered consecutively. There are few exceptions to this rule, where San Francisco views may have been inserted. In the case of his Mission stereos, those of Carmel are listed under two serial numbers-this being the only instance of such duplication.
On his second trip to the northwest, Watkins visited the Port Blakeley Lumber Mills, where he made a number of stereoscopic views and also several 18×22 negatives. The series of Victoria, B. C., stereoscopic views made at this time is extremely valuable, as showing marked development in that city. It was probably at the time of this trip that Watkins extended his journey to Montana, where he made a magnificent collection of large views, 18×22, of the Anaconda and other properties. It is interesting to recall that a part of the 8×10 photographic work on this trip, unfortunately, was a failure. Watkins visited the lower levels of the mines for the purpose of making 8×10 flash lights of the workings. He spent an entire day on this work. Part of his negatives were ruined through the inquisitiveness of some unknown parties drawing the slide in his plateholders, which he had left in the superintendent’s office while he went to dinner. Other interesting views showing the workings proved failures, owing to a condensation of moisture on the lens. Nevertheless a vast amount of historical material relating to Butte was gathered in pictorial form.
It was in 1880 that Watkins made his first trip through southern California along the line of the Southern Pacific Railroad (later he went to the “End of the Track” and as far as Tucson, Arizona). This series of stereos commences with No. 4301, “The Loop Tehachapi Pass, S. P. R. R.” This series historically is of extreme interest, inasmuch as we find a large number of the earliest photographic views of San Bernardino, Los Angeles, Pasadena, San Diego and coast towns when those places were in their infancy. In the series are many views of the vinewards, orange orchards, etc., which have been swept away by the town lot activities of southern California. In this series also is the extremely valuable collection of photographs of the various missions. It may be remarked that in all of Watkins’ tours, with the exception of his first into the Yosemite Valley, he traveled with a twohorse wagon in which he carried his paraphernalia and developed his negatives. While traveling on long reaches of the railroad his wagon was conveyed on a flatcar. On his first southern California trip Watkins returned in his wagon from San Diego, following the old overland stage road the greater part of the way, and visiting most of the Franciscan missions. Not only did he make his stereoscopic pictures of these, but also a collection of 18×22 negatives. From the latter he made prints of varying sizes. This collection of mission views is the earliest general photographic collection of California Missions made. They are extremely valuable in showing details of construction which the hand of time has swept away. It must not be supposed that all of the mission stereos were made during this trip, there being a few exceptions. For example, those of Carmelo were taken during a photographic visit to Monterey county and the Hotel Del Monte. (p. 34)
As previously mentioned, this series of stereos was made on a series of negatives 5½x14. Consequently there were printed boudoir views of a very large portion. This especially applies to views of the missions. Also Watkins issued printed lists of his stereoscopic negatives of this southern trip, which I am quite positive is the only printed list of his work that was ever issued.
It has already been noted that Watkins obtained from Alfred A. Hart his series of 364 stereoscopic negatives showing the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad. These were progress pictures, and it seems to have been Hart’s plan to go each successive season to the then terminus of the road, photographing the work in that vicinity as well as in sections which had not been visited on previous trips, and also filling in views of structures which had not been begun at an earlier period. This explains the view of the round house at Rocklin, which chronologically is not in its proper place in the list.
Watkins purchased from Louis Heller the extremely valuable small series of stereoscopic negatives relating to the Modoc war, which thereupon became a part of the Watkins series. These probably went to Taber. Heller was a local photographer in the northern part of the state, Fort Jones, and made a series of Modoc war negatives, including the portraits of the captive Modoc chiefs which were certified to by General Jefferson C. Davis, and became the official pictures of the war. These are the ones which later passed into the possession of Watkins. Some time after the Modoc war Heller gave up the photographic business and destroyed all of his remaining negatives. Beautifully executed large portraits of Captain Jack and Scar Face Charley in the Watkins gallery were from these Heller negatives.
During the development work of the Kern County Land Company Watkins visited Bakersfield, where he made a series of some seven hundred views on the Haggin and Tevis property. These were all 8×10 negatives and were dry plates. This was probably his last large commercial job and long country trip. It is a matter of regret that I did not make a copy of but a small portion of Watkins’ catalog of his larger negatives. About the only ones of these which I noted were his 11×14 and 16×20 historical views of San Francisco. Nearly all of these are preserved in my collection.
Specimens of the magnificent collection of large Yosemite Big Trees, Del Monte, Virginia City, Railroad and Mission views are extremely rare. Watkins’ last work in a photographic way was the making of a series of 16×20 transparencies from selected negatives of these large views. This superb collection of most valuable subjects was lost in the 1906 fire, together with all but a very few of Watkins’ negatives, which at the time were in my possession. But one of his 18×22 negatives exists-his copy of the first Admission Day celebration in San Francisco. Two or three of his earliest stereoscopic negatives and possibly three or four dozen 8×10 originals and copies remain sole survivors of thousands of negatives representing a life work of forty years.
The last photographic work done by Watkins was for Mrs Phoebe A. Hearst at her Hacienda, at which time the old gentleman realized that his eyesight was rapidly failing. The work then undertaken was never completed. (p. 35)
The life-long friendship between Carlton E. Watkins and Collis P. Huntington are bright spots in the life histories of both men. During his youth Watkins’ father kept a hotel at some small town in the state of New York. During that period Collis P. Huntington was making his living as a “tin” peddler. It was his habit when in that particular section of the state to make his headquarters at the Watkins’ hotel. A life-long friendship grew up between the two young men. Both came to California. Huntington’s activities were of a broader nature than those of his friend. During the construction and the early days of the Central Pacific Railroad, Watkins did a large amount of photographic work for the company, though for some reason this did not begin until after the making of the Hart series before referred to. Watkins made photographic reproductions of a great many plans and drawings for the engineering department and for other departments of the road. Only one or two of these are preserved in prints. Owing to the close friendship between Watkins and Huntington the making of bills for this work was a secondary consideration. Much of the work done was purely on the grounds of friendship, and no bills were ever presented. Watkins always traveled, and his outfit was transported, free. During the entire time that Collis P. Huntington was connected with the road Watkins was the recipient of annual passes. This return from the railroad was only a small recompense for the expenditure of time and material on the part of the friendly photographer. An amusing circumstance and one showing the magnificent fidelity of Collis P. Huntington may be instanced: As is well known, Huntington’s activities in connection with the railroad required his residence in New York, with an annual visit to San Francisco. On the occasion of one of these visits he found that a clerk in the Passenger Department, a most accomplished amateur photographer, had been making photographic copies of documents for the company, and also doing certain other photographic work for the corporation. In order that this work might be done more expeditiously rooms on the top floor of the Fourth and Townsend Street building had been well fitted up for operating purposes. When the railroad magnate discovered the photographer’s shop in the building he at once ordered it closed and the clerk discharged. Incidentally it may be remarked, that the clerk was simply put back on his other work; and while the room was closed some necessary railroad photographing was carried on there. Later this clerk retired from his clerkship, opened up business for himself and has done magnificent service for photography and for the railroad company which he served with fidelity. Probably no one knew Huntington’s reason for ordering. that clerk discharged and the company’s photographic activities ended. Even his friend Watkins did not know of the circumstance until some years later; and never profited financially by it.
Watkins was a man who was deeply loved by those who were, through his reserve, permitted to become his close friends. I recall but two portraits of him, one in which he posed in one of his stereos, taking the picture himself, personating a miner using a rocker; the other a print from an amateur’s film, showing the old man being led in his blindness along Ninth street on the morning of April 18, 1906, after he had been ordered from his studio, which was also his home, by the United States (p. 36) troops, and just prior to the time when the fire swept out of existence his negatives and thousands of prints. He was a man of strong likes and dislikes. He had been helped financially and socially by some of the most prominent people of San Francisco and California. Naturally, he made some enemies. For those he had no charity, and never forgave those who injured him, and of whom he spoke in the harshest terms. He was always generous to a fault, but more of an artist than a business man, which accounts for his lack of financial success. He made enormous amounts of money from his photographic work, but through friends lost it all.
During one of his trips to California Collis P. Huntington arranged to have a small ranch in the Capay Valley deeded to Watkins by the Railroad Company, as a partial recompense for the man’s fidelity and unpaid-for labors. The last few years prior to 1906 Watkins lived in his studio on the top floor of the building on the southeast corner of Ninth and Market streets. Part of the time his wife, daughter and son lived with him. The greater portion of the time, however, the wife and son or daughter were away, most of this time at the Capay Valley ranch. The son attempted to help his blind father in his photographic work by making prints from negatives but was not very successful. A photographer* [* The photographer mentioned here and later in this article is Mr. Turrill himself.— Editor. ] in the city volunteered to make these prints and assist the old gentleman in many ways where possible, making sales of his wares and cataloging and arranging his stock. At the time of the great fire the entire Watkins family was living at the studio. The wife and daughter went to a refugee camp at the Presidio. The blind old gentleman was led by his son to the home of the photographer, who for a few years had been helping to keep the Watkins bark afloat. There he was left by the son, to be cared for by the photographer friend, who took care of him almost continuously until the following October. The old gentleman was suffering from very bad ulcers on his legs, making it almost impossible for him to walk. Dr E. M. Bixby kindly and without price, dressed these ulcers, and D. H. Wulzen, a druggist, without cost, supplied the necessary medicine and dressings. A small amount of money was given to Watkins from the relief fund sent by the American Photographers Society for the rehabilitation of San Francisco photographers. Watkins visited Governor Pardee in Sacramento and was financially helped by him personally.
About two weeks after he had been left by his son at the home of the photographer friend referred to, the son called to see how his father was getting along. He was informed that the old gentleman had been placed, after some difficulty, in St. Joseph’s hospital, where he would undoubtedly have been allowed to remain indefinitely. The son, however, procured his removal to the hospital at the Presidio. Later on, a stranger appeared at the door of the friendly photographer with Watkins, who said “I have come to stay with you.
In October a lease having expired on the Capay Valley ranch, the Watkins family decided to go there, and through help of the Red Cross the blind photographer also went to his country home.
 (p. 37)]

CONTEMPORARY

[Unlike the period ca.1850 to ca. 1920, (roughly the artist’s professional career while living) where I made a sustained effort to gather a reasonably complete listing of citations on this artist, the following is a more or less random gathering of citations gathered ca. 1970s. It should not be considered a complete search of the more recent literature. WSJ]

Pattison, William D. “Westward by Rail with Professor Sedgwick: A Lantern Journey of 1873.” HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA QUARTERLY 42:1 (Mar. 1960): 335-349. 6 b & w, 4 illus. [(Stephen James Sedgwick toured professionally for several years in the 1870s giving illustrated lectures of the constructions, places, and scenery along the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad in a series of one and a half hour lectures. He used lantern slides copied from stereo views. The majority of these views were attributed to A. J. Russell and his team of Union Pacific photographers, yet at least one of Sedgwick’s lectures continued over the Central Pacific R. R. to the end in Sacramento, California. WSJ)
“…Sedgwick’s final lecture, in contrast to its three predecessors, depended for pictures almost entirely upon photographers operating outside the Union Pacific photographic corps.” To complete the contrast, the sources of information were apparently confined to travel accounts and guidebooks collected by Sedgwick. (21)…” (p. 347)
“…(21) The supplementary contributors were Central Pacific photographers, principally Alfred A. Hart, C. E. Watkins and Edward J. Muybridge.
(22)About thirty western travel sources are recorded in “Catalogue of the Library of S. J. Sedgwick, 1883,” MS at Ledge Rest, Sheffield, Massachusetts. No evidence of Sedgwick’s venturing westward beyond Union Pacific territory has been found.
23. Press notices and other sources for discussion of Sedgwick’s fourth lecture are contained in Announcement of Lectures (1879)….” (p. 348)
(C. R. Savage and William Henry Jackson also photographed along the railroad, and the confusions, some apparently generated by Sedwick himself, over the authorship of these photos was still not completely resolved in 1960 or even today. The article provides a valuable insight into the cultural impact of the U.P.R.R. and the photographs of its construction. WSJ)]Lindquist‑Cock, Elizabeth., “Stereoscopic Photography and the Western Paintings of Albert Bierstadt.” ART QUARTERLY 33:4 (Winter 1970): 360‑377. 11 b & w. [Influence of stereoscopic photography on Bierstadt’s paintings, with stereos by Bierstadt, Muybridge, and Watkins cited.]

Newhall, Beaumont., “Documenting the Photo Document.” IMAGE 14:3 (June 1971): 4‑5. 3 b & w. [Discussion of some of the problems of present‑day historians identifying 19th century photographer’s work ‑ since they often didn’t sign them, often swapped prints or negatives and sometimes copied the work of others. Cites the case of three photographs by T. O’Sullivan and W. H. Jackson sold and signed by Carleton E. Watkins.]

Millard, Charles E., “An American Landscape.” PRINT COLLECTORS NEWSLETTER 7:2 (May ‑ June 1976): 47‑48. 1 b & w. [Illustration is a view by Muybridge. Article is a brief, incisive discussion of an American style or vision of landscape, with references to, and descriptions of, the work of certain Western landscape photographers of the 1870s, such as W. H. Jackson; T. O’Sullivan; A. J. Russell; Wm. Bell; E. Muybridge; and C. E. Watkins.]

Daniels, David., “Photography’s Wet‑Plate Interlude in Arizona Territory: 1864 ‑ 1880.” JOURNAL OF ARIZONA HISTORY 9:4 (Winter 1968): 171‑194. 9 b & w. [Mentions Charles Thomas Rogers (1864), J. G. Gaige (1869), John C. Preston (1870), William A. Bell (1867‑68, Kansas Pacific R.R. Survey), E. O. Beaman & John K. Hillers (Powell Colorado River Survey, 1871‑1872), Timothy O’Sullivan (Wheeler Surveys, 1871‑ 1875), D. P. Flanders (1863), Henry Bushman (1874), E. M. Jennings, F. W. Moon (Company B, 11th U.S. Infantry), W. H. Williscraft (1876), Mr. Rothrock (1877), D. F. Mitchell, from San Francisco (1877), Camillus S. Fly (1878), Ben A. Wittick (1878), Carleton E. Watkins visited in 1880.]

Palmquist, Peter E., “The California Indian in Three‑Dimensional Photography.” JOURNAL OF CALIFORNIA AND GREAT BASIN ANTHROPOLOGY 1:1 (Summer 1979): 89‑116. 22 b & w. [Survey of stereographs of Indians in California. Illustrations by Lawrence & Houseworth; Carleton E. Watkins; Eadweard Muybridge; E. & H. T. Anthony & Co.; William N. Tuttle; R. E. Wood; C. W. Mills; M. M. Hazeltine; J. T. Boysen; George Wharton James. The works of these and other photographers discussed. Bibliography on pp. 115‑116.]

“News Notes: Watkins Albums Sell for Record Price.” AFTERIMAGE 7:3 (Oct. 1979): 21.

Hickman, Paul Addison., “Carleton E. Watkins and His Modern Interpreters.” AFTERIMAGE 11: (Dec. 1983): 6‑7. ## b & w.

Hooper, Bruce., “Arizona Territorial Stereography: Part II ‑ The Rise of Stereography in Arizona 1875‑1880. Part III ‑ The Railroad Comes to Arizona Territory: Stereography along the Rails, 1880‑1890.” STEREO WORLD 13:3 (July ‑ Aug. 1986): 4‑16, 40. 16 b & w. [Part II. Describes the careers and work of Henry Buehmann (b. 1851) (GER, USA); W. H. Williscraft; George H. Rothrock (1843‑1920) (USA). Illustrated with seven views or Indian portraits by Rothrock. Part III. Discusses the work of Carleton E. Watkins; J. C. Burge; George Benjamin Whittick; Hildreth & Burge; and others. Includes checklist of stereographs by D. P. Flanders, George H. Rothrock, J. C. Burge, W. H. Williscraft, D. F. Mitchell, and miscellaneous photographers. Illustrated with stereos by Ben Wittick; C. E. Watkins; Charles O. Farciot; Camilius S. Fly; J. C. Burge; Mitchell & Baer. (Parts IV and V of this series deal with the period 1890 to 1930, and will therefore be listed in a following volume of this bibliography.)]

Hickman, Paul., “Art, Information, and Evidence: Early Landscape Photographs of the Yosemite Region.” EXPOSURE 22:1 (Spring 1984): 26‑ 29. 2 b & w. [W. Harris; M. M. Hazeltine; J. J. Reilly; Ch. Bierstadt; Ch. L. Weed; Watkins; and others mentioned.]

Palmquist, Peter., “Silver Plates Among the Goldfields: The Photographers of Siskiyou County, 1850 ‑ 1906.” CALIFORNIA HISTORY 65: 2 (June 1986): 114‑125, 153‑154. 21 b & w. [Between 1850 and World War II, 150 professional photographers practiced their trade in Siskiyou County region. F. E. Bosworth; Philip Castleman; Hendee Brothers; Louis Herman Heller (1839‑1928); Jacob Hansen (c. 1828‑1893); Carleton E. Watkins; others discussed.]

Giffen, Helen S., “Carleton E. Watkins, California’s Expeditionary Photographer.” EYE TO EYE:6 (Sept. 1954): 26‑32. b & w.

Kearful, Jerome., “Carleton E. Watkins: Pioneer California Photographer.” WESTWAYS 47:5 (May 1955): 26‑27. 5 b & w.

Parker, Alice Lee., “Photographs and Negatives.” QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 13:1 (Nov. 1955): 54‑55. b & w. [Thirty‑three photographs by Watkins, of the Yosemite Valley, in the collections.]

Hemmingsson, Per., “Carleton E. Watkins ‑ Natur‑fotograf; Storformat.” FOTOGRAFISK ARSBOK 1969: (1969): 54‑60. 5 b & w.

Wollenberg, Charles., “Reviews: Pictorial Resources: Carleton E. Watkins Photographs.” CALIFORNIA HISTORICAL QUARTERLY 53:1 (Spring 1974): 83‑86. 4 b & w. [Ex. Note: “Carleton E. Watkins,” Focus Gallery, San Francisco, CA.]

Hoffman, Gordon., “Railroading in 3‑D. Part I.” STEREO WORLD 1:4 (Sept./Oct. 1974): 1, 5‑9, 16. 13 b & w. [Illustrated with views by C. E. Watkins; Langenheim Brothers; Coleman Sellers; A. C. McIntyre; E. Anthony; W. M. Chase; C. W. Woodward; D. S. Damp; F. Jay Haynes; C. H. Freeman; R. B. Whittaker.]

Millard, Charles W., “An American Landscape.” PRINT COLLECTORS NEWSLETTER 7:2 (May ‑ June 1976): 47‑48. 1 b & w.

Hill, Eric., “Carleton E. Watkins.” STEREO WORLD 4:1 (Mar.‑Apr. 1977): 4‑5. 3 b & w.

Doherty, Amy S., “Carleton E. Watkins, Photographer: 1829 ‑ 1916.” THE COURIER: SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ASSOCIATES 15:4 (1978): 3‑20, plus cover. 5 b & w. [Thorough description of Watkins’ career and practices, as well as a general background of events that led to his making an album of sixty‑five photographs of views in Yosemite, published in 1865, now in the collections of the Syracuse University research library. The article also contains a description and plate list of the album.]

Weinstein, Robert A., “North from Panama, Went to the Orient, The Pacific Mail Steamship Company, As Photographed by Carleton E. Watkins.” CALIFORNIA HISTORY 57:1 (Spring 1978): 46‑57. 9 b & w.

“Special Issue: Carleton E. Watkins.” CALIFORNIA HISTORY 57:3 (Fall 1978): 210‑270. 50 b & w. [“Carleton E. Watkins, Pioneer Photographer” pp. 210‑216; “Watkins and the Historical Record,” by Richard Rudisill, pp. 216‑219; “Before Yosemite Art Gallery: Watkin’s Early Career,” by Pauline Brenbeaux, pp. 220‑229; “The Mariposa Views” pp. 230‑235; “The Yosemite Views,” pp. 236‑241; “Watkin’s Style and Technique in the Early Photographs,” by Nanette Sexton, pp. 242‑251; “Watkins ‑ the Photographer as Publisher,” by Peter E. Palmquist pp. 252‑257; “After 1875: Watkin’s Mature Years,” pp. 258‑263; “A Watkins Chronology,” pp. 264‑265; “Watkin’s Photographs in the California Historical Society Library,” by Laverne Mau Dickee, pp. 266‑267; “Notes” pp. 268‑270.]

Lifson, Ben., “Photography: Notes for a Historical Fantasy.” VILLAGE VOICE: (Oct. 23, 1978): 112. b & w.

Coplans, John., “C. E. Watkins at Yosemite.” ART IN AMERICA 66:6 (Nov.‑Dec. 1978): 100‑108. 7 b & w.

Lifson, Ben., “Photography: Tales without Morals. III. The Ambiguous Apotheosis of Carleton E. Watkins.” VILLAGE VOICE: (May 21, 1979): 101. [Discussion of sale of two albums of Watkins’ views by the Swann Galleries on May 10th, 1979.]

Schiffman, Amy M., “Gallery: Carleton E. Watkins.” AMERICAN PHOTOGRAPHER 3:4 (Oct. 1979): 74. 1 b & w. [Ex. notice: Fraenkel Gallery and Simon Lowinsky Gallery, San Francisco, CA.]

Murray, Joan. “Carleton Watkins, New Discoveries.,” ARTWEEK 11:8 (Mar. 1, 1980): 13. 1 b & w. [Fifteen Watkins photos taken in 1861 found by Peter Palmquist in Bancroft Library.]

Palmquist, Peter E., “What Price Success? The Life and Photography of Carleton E. Watkins.” AMERICAN WEST 17:4 (July‑Aug. 1980): frontispiece, 14‑ 29, 66‑67. 22. b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “Carleton E. Watkins: A Checklist of Surviving Photographically Illustrated Books and Albums.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC COLLECTOR 2:1 (Spring 1981): 4‑12. 6 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “Carleton E. Watkin’s oldest surviving landscape photograph.” HISTORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY 5:3 (July 1981): 223‑224. 1 b & w. [Two‑part panorama, taken ca. Aug. 1858.]

Palmquist, Peter E. “Taber Reprints of Watkin’s Mammoth Plates.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC COLLECTOR 3:2 (Summer 1982): 12‑20. 5 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “Carleton E. Watkins at Work (A Pictorial Inventory of Equipment and Landscape Technique used by Watkins in the American West, 1854 ‑ 1900).” HISTORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY 6:4 (Oct. 1982): 291‑325. 32 b & w.

Sandweiss, Martha A., “To Look On, To Analyze, To Explain Matters to Myself.” JOURNAL OF AMERICAN CULTURE 5:4 (Winter 1982): *. b & w. [Explores the parallels between the work of a photographer and the historian. Includes an extended discussion of the Carleton Watkins photograph “Wreck of the Viscata.”]

Palmquist, Peter E., “Watkins’s New Series Stereographs, Part I.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC COLLECTOR 3:4 (Winter 1982/1983): 10‑20. 9 b & w.

Street, Richard Steven., “A Kern County Diary: The Forgotten Photographs of Carleton E. Watkins, 1881 ‑ 1888.” CALIFORNIA HISTORY 61:4 (Winter 1983): 243‑ 263. 26 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “Views to Order. Carleton Watkins: Life and Art.” PORTFOLIO: THE MAGAZINE OF THE FINE ARTS (Mar.‑Apr. 1983): 84‑91. 11 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “Watkins’ E‑Series: The Columbia River Gorge and Yellowstone.” STEREO WORLD 10:1 (Mar. ‑ Apr. 1983): 4‑14. 18 b & w. [Brief summation of Watkins’ forth trip to the northwest in 1883‑1884. Checklist of Watkins’ E‑Series Stereographs: Oregon, Idaho (?) and Yellowstone, 1884‑85. (43 views listed.).]

Palmquist, Peter E., “Watkins’s New Series Stereographs, Part II.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC COLLECTOR 4:1 (Spring 1983): 28‑39. 18 b & w.

Haller, Douglas M., “CHS Collection Represented in Watkins’ Photography Exhibit.” CALIFORNIA HISTORICAL COURIER 35:2 (Apr. 1983): 10‑11. 7 b & w. [Discusses the fourteen photographs from the California Historical Society’s collections in the Watkins’ exhibit, organized by the Amon Carter Museum.]

Haller, Douglas M., “An Addition and Amplification.” CALIFORNIA HISTORICAL COURIER 35:3 (June 1983): 2. 1 b & w. [Discusses a Watkins’ portrait, now correctly identified as an Japanese Ambassador, Tomomi Iwakura, visiting San Francisco in 1872.]

Palmquist, Peter E., “Watkins’s New Series Stereographs, Part III.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC COLLECTOR 4:2 (Summer 1983): 18‑27. 16 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “`Second to None’ Carleton Watkins, Photographer of the American West.” THE MUSEUM OF CALIFORNIA JOURNAL 7:3 (Nov. ‑ Dec. 1983): 4‑7, plus cover. 6 b & w.

Palmquist, Peter E., “The Early Panoramists (and Other Mothers of Invention).” DARKROOM PHOTOGRAPHY 6:1 (Jan. ‑ Feb. 1984): 26‑32. 11 b & w. [Unusual apparatus to achieve special photographs discussed. Watkins’s and Muybridge’s views in California; B. O. Holterman’s views in Australia; George R. Lawrence’s views of the Chicago & Alton Railroad train and his aerial views from kites, etc.]

Solomon‑Godeau, Abigail., “Books in Review: Reviewing the View: Carleton E. Watkins Redux.” PRINT COLLECTOR’S NEWSLETTER 15:2 (May ‑ June 1984): 70‑ 74. 4 b & w. [Review of several books on Watkins.]

Palmquist, Peter E., “`It Is as Hot as H‑‑‑’ Carleton E. Watkins’s Photographic Excursion Through Southern Arizona, 1880.” JOURNAL OF ARIZONA HISTORY 28:4 (Winter 1987): 353‑372. 17 b & w. [In 1880 Watkins photographed along the line of the Southern Pacific R. R. in southern California and Arizona.]

Palmquist, Peter E., “Chapter 1: Oneonta, New York 1829‑1851,” and “Chapter 2: California, 1851‑1854.” THE PHOTOGRAPHIC HISTORIAN 8:4 (Winter 1987/88): 1‑10, 17‑26. [First and second chapters in C. E. Watkin’s biography, The first part offers details his family background, and his childhood years until he left for California at age 21 in 1851. Part two describes his early years in California.]

Hickman, Paul Addison., “Carleton E. Watkins, 1829 ‑ 1916.” NORTHLIGHT (ARIZONA STATE UNIVERSITY):1 (Jan. 1977): 1‑41. b & w.

Fletcher, Stephen J., “Watkins’ Stereographs.” CALIFORNIA HISTORICAL COURIER 38:5 (Dec. 1986 ‑ Jan. 1987): 6‑7. 3 b & w. [Fifty‑nine Watkins’ stereos added to the California Historical Society Collection. Essay discusses the collection and the additions.]

**************************************************************************************************************************









ALFRED A. HART (1816-1908)

“Map of the Central Pacific Railroad.” CALIFORNIA MAIL BAG 1:1 (June 1871): unnumbered leaf following p. vi. [A fold‑out sheet 13 1/2″ x 35 1/2″ with a map of the Central Pacific R.R. and 24 engravings of views along the line of the route. Not credited, but the views are taken from stereographs made by Alfred Hart. The other side contains train schedules, routes, etc. This mapped was tipped into the first few issues of the magazine.]

                                                             ALFRED A. HART BIBLIOGRAPHY
                                                                       By William S. Johnson.
                                                   (Please credit the blog if you use this bibliography.)
                                                                         (POSTED March 2024)
[I have compiled and now posted this bibliography to test my belief that current technologies have made it possible to develop a very flexible research tool that can permit a scholar to access a wider range of information and provide a more nuanced look into the functioning of any particular era in the history of photography. This bibliography is composed from the Nineteenth-Century Photography. An Annotated Bibliography 1839-1879, by William S. Johnson. Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1990, to which I’ve added a key-word search of my current bibliographic project of indexing more than 800 periodical titles published in the USA and England between 1835 and 1869. After 1869 additional references were drawn from other random projects or sources that I had on hand and a key-word literature search of the internet. Not every important source is on the internet and it should not be considered an exhaustive survey of the literature published after that date. WSJ]
[Searching the literature for Alfred A. Hart has proved surprisingly difficult. Unfortunately there were a number of Harts and even A. A. Harts who had some affiliations with photography active during the chronological period being searched. So I cannot be entirely certain that some of the later citations are not about someone else. However it seems highly improbable that the Alfred A. Hart making lantern slides for the NY City education department in the 1870s and later is not the same person who photographed the Central Pacific railroad earlier. But, if so, then the “known” chronology on Mr. Hart may be inaccurate. WSJ.]

Alfred Hart was born in Norwich, CT, on Mar. 28, 1816. His father was a silversmith. Alfred Hart went to New York, NY in 1838 to study art, then he returned to Norwich in 1840, where he married and began a career as an itinerant portrait painter. Hart moved to Hartford, CT in 1848, where he painted portraits and large scroll-like panoramas of religious scenes and landscapes. Hart formed a partnership with the Hartford daguerreotypist Henry H. Bartlett in 1857. In the early 1860s Hart moved to Cleveland, OH, where he ran a store selling picture frames, engravings, and photographic supplies. By 1863 Hart was working as a portrait photographer. By 1865 Hart was in California, making stereo views along the line of track under construction for the Central Pacific Railroad. After January 1866 Hart was named the official photographer for the C. P. R. R., and for the next three years he documented the construction of the railroad across the mountains and onto the high plains of Utah. Hart photographed the joining of the rails at Promontory Point, UT in 1869. The C. P. R. R. selected 364 stereographs for their official series of the construction, and Hart sold additional views to Lawrence & Houseworth for publication and distribution. Hart probably made other views at Yosemite and elsewhere in California for Lawrence & Houseworth as well. Carleton Watkins acquired Hart’s railroad views after Hart left the C. P. R. R, employ after the lines merged and Watkins reissued that series under his own name for several years, until he too lost control of those negatives in the 1870s. In the early 1870s Hart lived in Denver, CO, where he returned to painting portraits and landscapes. He continued this activity in San Francisco from 1872 to 1878, then returned to New York, NY. He apparently moved back and forth between New York and California during the latter years of his life, working at a variety of jobs. He died in California on March 5, 1908.]

BOOKS
1870
Hart, Alfred A. The Traveler’s Own Book. A Souvenir of Overland Travel, via the Great and Attractive route, Chicago, Burlington & Quincy R. R. to Burlington. Union Pacific R. R. to Ogden. Central Pacific R. R. to Sacramento. Burlington and Missouri R. R. to Omaha. Utah Central Railroad to Salt Lake City. Western Pacific Railroad to San Francisco. Chicago: Horton & Leonard, printers, 1870. pp. 34, [10]. 12 colored plates, 2 photographs, 3 maps. Obl., 16 mo.
[Chromo‑lithographs by C. Shober, from photographs by A. A. Hart. Univ. of Rochester Library, also cited on p.110 in: Sabin, Joseph. A Dictionary of Books relating to America, from Its Discovery to the Present Time. Volume VIII. New York: J. Sabin & Sons, 1877.]

Hart, Alfred A. Travelers own map of the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy RR, Burlington route from Omaha to Chicago : showing the line of road, distances, elevations, stage connections, railroad connections, and the general topography of the country Chicago : Miller, Wagner & Umbdenstock, 1870. [3 maps on 1 sheet: col.; 19 x 49 cm. Harvard Univ.
Its unclear if the map was published and issued separately, or if it was removed from a copy of the foregoing book. WSJ]

Transactions of the California State Agricultural Society During the Years 1868 and 1869. Sacramento: D. W. Gelwicks, State Printer. 1870. 384
[“                                              Premiums Awarded in 1869.
                                                     Seventh Department.
                                                              Fine Arts.

——————————————————————————————————————————————
     Exhibitor.                    Residence.                             Article.                                         Premium.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Norton Bush                      San Francisco           Best painting in oil.                                                $20
Norton Bush                      San Francisco           Best painting in oil (tropical scene).                    $20
Mrs. G. D. Stewart..           Sacramento               Best water colored painting.                            Diploma
A. A. Hart                         Sacramento              Best uncolored photograph.                                  $10
G. W. Baker                      Sacramento               Best lithography.                                              Diploma.
J. B. Grouppe.                   San Francisco           Best wood and seal engraving.                          Diploma.
Pacific Business ColIege   San Francisco           Best penmanship.                                                      $5
Mrs. W. E. Brown..            Sacramento.              Best crayon drawing.                                          Diploma.
Mrs. G. D. Stewart..           Sacramento               Best pencil drawing.                                          Diploma.
P. J. Devine.                     San Francisco           Best sculpture (bust). ..                                           $10
Wm. Shew                        San Francisco           Best plain photograph, life size. ..                             $15
Wm. Shew                        San Francisco           Best plain photograph, medium. ..                           $10
Mrs. S. M. Coggins.          Sacramento               Best photograph in water color.                               $15
Wm. Shew                        San Francisco           Best plain porcelain picture.                                      $15
Mrs. S. M. Coggins.          Sacramento               Best colored porcelain picture.                                $10
Mr. Serregni…                   San Francisco           Best pen drawing.                                               Diploma
Norton Bush.                     San Francisco           Best display of oil paintings. .                                  $20
J. Wise.                            San Francisco           Portrait in oil. ..                                             Special-$10
D. H. Woods                     Sacramento               Oil painting (landscape). ..                            Special-$10
W. E. Brown                      Sacramento               Oil painting (St. Jerome). ..                          Special-$10
John Cooper                     Sacramento               Best flute. .                                                                $5 (p. 206)
[Republished in: Appendix to Journals of Senate and Assembly, of the Eighteenth Session of the Legislature of the State of California. Volume III. Sacramento: D. W. Gelwicks, State Printer. 1870.]

1870

Schlagintweit, Robert von. “Die Pacific-Eisenbahn in Nordamerika. Statistisch-geographische Skizze.”
“I. Allgemeine Statiſtiſche Angaben.” (pp. 1-21).
“II. Die Union-Pacific – Eisenbahn.” (pp. 78-100) 3 b & w
“III. Die Central-Pacific – Eisenbahn.” (pp. 137-157) 2 b & w
“III. Die Central-Pacific – Eisenbahn.” (pp. 203-223) 4 b & w.
“(Die Höhenangaben sind in englischen Fußen ausgedrückt.)” (pp. 261-267) in: GAEA. NATUR UND LEBEN. ZEITSCHRIFT ZUR VERBREITUNG NATURWISSENSCHAFTLICHER UND GEOGRAPHISCHER KENNTNISSE SOWIE DER FORTSCHRITTE AUF DEM GEBIETE DER GESAMMTEN NATURWISSENSCHAFTEN. v. 6 (1870)
[Hart mentioned on p. 213. “…Eine ebenso angenehme wie werthvolle Ueberraschung waren für mich eine Anzahl der prachtvollen, von Alfred A. Hart gefertigten stereoscopischen Ansichten, die mir im Namen der Central-Pacific- Bahn deren Hauptingenieur, Herr S. S. Montague, während meines zweiten Aufenthaltes in Sacramento (im Juli 1869) als Geschenk übersandte. Fast ämmtliche Illustrationen, die meinen Aufsätzen beigegeben sind, wurden nach diesen photographischen Aufnahmen gefertigt….” (p. 213)
[This series of articles was then reissued as a separate book by the publisher. WSJ]
Schlagintweit, Robert von. Die Pacific – Eisenbahn in Nordamerika. Mit Illustrationen, einer Karte und einer Meilentafel. Uebersehungsrecht wird vorbehalten. Cöln u. Leipzig: Eduard Heinr. Mayer. New York: L. W. Schmidt, 24 Barclay Street, 1870. xiv, 203, [1] p. front., illus., fold. Map., fold. Plan. 20cm.
[Illustrated with woodcuts, many drawn from photographs, many of them the same as those in the following books. WSJ]

1871

Schlagintweit, Robert von. Californien. Land und Leute. Mit Illustrationen. Uebersehungsrecht wird vorbehalten. Cöln und Leipzig: Eduard Heinrich Mayer, New York: E. Steiger. San Francisco: F. W. & D. Barkhaus, 1871. xvi, 380, [2] p.: ill.; 20 cm.
[                                                                       “Inhalt.”
“Verzeichniß der Illuſtrationen.
Alle Abbildungen sind nach Photographien oder stereoskopischen Aufnahmen hergestellt, die mit Ausnahme von Nr. 5, Nr. 8 und Nr. 10 theils von Alfred A. Hart zu Sacramento, theils von
Thomas Houseworth & Co. zu San Francisco gefertigt wurden.
                                                                                                                                     Seite.
1. Die Sierra Nevada in ihren höheren Theilen                                                                   48
3. Durchschnitt eines gefällten Riesenbaumes                                                                 153
4. Riesenbaum von 32 Fuß Durchmeſſer                                                                            161
5. General John A. Sutter, mit Facsimile seiner Unterschrift                                            217
6. Die Eisenbahn in den höheren Theilen der Sierra Nevada                                            233
7. Ein Viadukt der Central Pacific Eisenbahn                                                                     240
8. Chinesische Goldwäscher.                                                                                          256
9. Goldwaschen mittelst des hydraulischen Proceſſes.                                                     264
10. Chinesische Annonce in einer californischen Zeitung..                                              344   (p. xvi)]
[Woodcuts, drawn from photographs. WSJ]

1872

Transactions of the California State Agricultural Society of the Year 1872. Sacramento: T. A. Springer, State Printer. 1873. 784 p.
[“                      Transactions of the State Agricultural Society
Date.                On what account.                                              Amount
Sept. 30…..       William Fleming, premium……                        $120.00
                        G. G. W. Morgan, premium…                             $5.00
                        G. G. W. Morgan, entry clerk..                            $50.00
                        A. Hart, premium                                              $20.00
                        Mrs. H. Kuhl, premium                                        $20.00
                        Madam Anna Getz Lucas, premium.                $25.00
                        D. H. Woods, premium                                       $80.00
                        P.J. Merwin, labor                                               $41.25.
                        P. Mangle, premium                                            $15.00
                        Walsh estate, thirteen stalls                               $91.00
                        J. S. Bamber, premium….”                            ($95.00 (Etc., etc.) (p. 50)
“Articles Exhibited at the Pavilion.”
(Etc., etc.)
                                                   Seventh Department.
                                                            Class I.

.Heald’s Business College, San Francisco—Six specimens penmanship, plain and ornamental.
Charles Prosch, San Francisco—One picture, in water colors.
Aaron Avants, Chico-One colored photograph.
Mrs. John Rivett, Sacramento-Three crayon drawings.
J. J. Agard, Sacramento-Two pencil drawings.
C. C. Brown, Sacramento—Six specimens of pen drawings and ornamental penmanship.
Miss M. E. Bowman, Sacramento-Three pen drawings and ornamental penmanship.
Selkirk & Fisher, San Francisco—Twenty-three specimens of plain photographs.
J. W. Tabor, San Francisco—Sixteen specimens of photographs; two photographs, retouched in India ink; one frame pictorial photograph; one equestrian photograph.
Miss H. H. Curtis, San José-One animal painting, in water colors; two pencil drawings.
Annie N. Peelor, San José-Four specimens of pencil drawings.
Emily S. Peelor, San José— Three specimens of pencil drawings.
H. G. Peelor, San José—Six landscape paintings, in water colors; one flower painting; two pencil drawings.
Mrs. E. Parsons, Sacramento-One medley picture.
Mrs. E. J. King, Sutter Creek-Two hand-made chromos.
A. Hart, San Francisco-Five landscapes, in oil: Last of the Mohicans; Scene from Deerslayer; Autumn Scene, Catskill Lake; Scene on the Hudson; View on the Rhine; one portrait painting, in oil.
G. H. Goddard, San Francisco—One painting, water colors.
Norton Bush, San Francisco-Nine landscape paintings, in oil: Panama Bay; Lake Nicaragua; Memory of the Tropics; Panama Beach; Morning in the Tropics; Evening in the Tropics; Catskill Creek; Morning
and Evening; San Juan River, Nicaragua.
Mrs. John F. Cooper, Sacramento-One medley picture.
John Estell, Sacramento-One book of decalcomania pictures; one frame of decalcomania pictures.
Alva Duane, Farmington, San Joaquin County-One specimen of plain and ornamental penmanship, by a boy thirteen years old.
Mrs. J. N. Bingay, Sacramento—Nineteen pencil drawings.
C. R. Sites, Sacramento-One specimen pen drawing.
C. T. Wheeler, Sacramento-One photograph, retouched in water colors.
Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco-Seven water-colored photographs; five photographs, retouched in water colors; one photograph, retouched in Inda ink; three crayon photographs; three plain photographs; one frame, Grand Lodge I. O. O. F.; one frame, county officers of San Francisco; one frame pictorial photographs, retouched in water colors; one frame pictorial photographs, plain.
Mrs. E. S. Mitchell, Sacramento-Two pencil drawings; one pastelle painting.
Madam Anna Gettz Lucas, San Francisco-Two water color paintings-flowers. (p. 91)
Mrs. Jane E. Cottar, San Francisco-Two pieces decalcomania painting on satin.
D. H. Woods, Sacramento-Seventeen portraits in oil; nine animal paintings in oil; six landscape paintings in oil.
William Keith, San Francisco-Six landscape paintings in oil; two marine paintings in oil; one fruit piece, in oil.
F. J. Lewis, Sacramento-One specimen of pen drawing; one specimen of pencil drawing.
Mrs. A. J. Perry, Sacramento-Eight landscape paintings in oil.
Mrs. W. Yule, Sacramento-One California fruit painting in water colors.
D. Kaltschmidt, San Francisco-Two portraits in oil; one portrait in water colors.
                                                            Class II.
Miss Kate E. Crocker, Sacramento-One original oil painting, “Still Life.”
Howard Campion, San Francisco-One bunch of grapes in oil; two water color paintings.
Delong, Combs & Co., San José-Two medallions, three-quarters view, taken from a photograph.
J. C. Devine, Sacramento-Exhibition of sculpture; exhibition of statuary and busts in plaster; collection of marble works.
Michael Kraker, Sacramento-Display of statuary in bronze and marble, one case.
Delong, Combs & Co. (by J. W. Combs), San José-Two marble frames, Indian diggings.
                                                            Class III.
J. L. Brooks, Bodega, Sonoma County-One model farm gate.
Geo. G. W. Morgan, Sacramento-Design for a canal and narrow gauge railroad.
Frank P. Lowell, Sacramento-Design for carriage house and stable.
                                                Miscellaneous Department.
Bowen Brothers, San Francisco-Special exhibit of pure ground spices, yeast powder, etc.
Charles Green, San Francisco-Axle grease.
W. C. Palmer, San Francisco-General assortment of writing inks.
E. B. Tanney, Ripon, Kansas, Window sash balance.
William Blake, San Francisco—Blake’s clothes renovator; Blake’s simple dyes.
Waterhouse & Lester, Sacramento-Clark’s patent buggy sun and storm shade.
B. H. Lyon, Honolulu, Sandwich Islands—Dr. B. H. Lyon’s compound remedy for recent and chronic diseases, liniment and pills.
W. E. Gerber, agent for Schreiber & Howell, Sacramento-Six chicory roots.” (p. 92)
                                                Seventh Department.
                                                        Fine Arts.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Articles.                                    Exhibitors.                                Residence.                    Premiums.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Paintings.
Best water-colored landscape… G. H. Goddart                 San Francisco.              $10
Picture of Charbenaere grapes
in water colors, (very fine)…       Miss H. Millard…                  San José……… ..          Silver medal.
Water-colored portraits….          O. Kaesschmidt ………      San Francisco. ……       Hon. mention.
Water-colored painting,
(superior workmanship)…           Chas. Prosch                     San Francisco. ..           Diploma.
Best exhibition of portrait
painting in oil……..                     D. H. Woods………                  Sacramento…..             $40
Best specimen of portrait
painting in oil…                       A. Hart……….                           San Francisco.             $20

Best exhibition of landscape
painting in oil………                    Wm. Keith …….                         San Francisco               $40
Best specimen of landscape
painting, in oil……..                    Wm. Keith ………                       San Francisco.              $20.
Best exhibition of animal
paintings in oil………                  D. H. Woods……..                     Sacramento…..             $40
Hand-made chromos..               Mrs. E. J. King…….                    Sutter Creek……       Silver medal.
Water-color paintings.               Mrs. H. H. Curtis…..                   San José………         Silver medal.
Oil paintings…..                         Miss A. J. Perry..                       Sacramento………….   Silver medal.
Best specimen of fruit painting   Wm. Keith….                             San Francisco.           $10
Best exhibition of paintings        Wm. Keith….                             San Francisco.             $50
Best collection of tropical
landscape paintings in oil…        Norton Bush…..                         San Francisco. .       Hon. mention.
Collection of paintings in oil… A. Hart………                            San Francisco. ….      Hon, mention.
Paintings                                  A. Hart………..                           San Francisco. .           Gold medal.
            Sculpture.
Two medallions, three-quarter
view, taken from a photograph   De Long, Combes & Company,
                                                (by J.W. Combes)                     San José….                  Diploma.
Best specimen of California
marble                                      De Long, Combes & Company,
                                                (by J.W. Combes)                      San José……..           Special recom’d.
Exhibition of sculpture………..     J. C. Devine & Bro…                  Sacramento…..             $20
Best exhibition of statuary
and busts in plaster……              J. C. Devine & Bro…                  Sacramento…..            $20
Display of statuary in marble
and bronze…..                            Michael Kraker……..                  Sacramento….. …….    Diploma.
Best collection of marble
works                                       J. C. Devine & Bro…                  Sacramento…..             $40
 Design for canal and narrow
gauge railroad combined…..      Geo. G. W. Morgan….               Sacramento…………….. Diploma.
Design for carriage house and
stable                                        Frank P. Lowell                         Sacramento….. ..           Diploma. (p. 135)
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Articles.                                    Exhibitors.                                Residence.                    Premiums.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
            Photographs.
Best exhibition of photographs. Bradley & Rulofson…                 San Francisco.              $10
Best exhibition of colored
photographs                             Bradley & Rulofson…                 San Francisco. ……….   Diploma.
Best exhibition of retouched
photographs……….                    I. W. Taber…………..                  San Francisco.              Diploma.
Best exhibition of plain
photographs……….                    Silas Selleck………                     San Francisco.              Diploma.
Best display of crayon
photographs (retouched)….        Bradley & Rulofson…              San Francisco.              Diploma.
Best display of crayon
drawings….                               Mrs. John Rivett……                   Sacramento…..             $5
            Penmanship
Pen drawing, (bunch of grapes
from the original. Very excellent). F. J. Lewis…….                   Sacramento….. ……….   Diploma.
Best penmanship..                       E. P. Heald……….                    San Francisco.              $5
Best pen drawing..                       C. C. Brown………..                 Sacramento…..              $5  (p. 136)
Statement of A. Hart.
To the Gold Medal Committee
:
Gentlemen: The question of the bestowment of the gold medal for the most meritorious exhibition in the Seventh Department, at the late State Fair, being the only one left for my further consideration, I have thought it advisable to address the Board upon the subject, and to set before it such facts and arguments bearing upon the case as shall induce the Board to thoroughly consider my claims to the medal. It may be that in this way some compensation may yet be made for what I conceive to have been a very superficial and hasty examination by the judges of the comparative merits of the two rival landscapes at the Fair. I had brought, at great expense, my largest and best work, upon which I had expended many months of arduous and unremitting study and labor, and which had been pronounced by art critics and artists a masterpiece, and when I found that a painting quite unfinished in many respects had taken all the money premiums offered by the society for this branch, as well as for the best exhibition of paintings, you may readily conceive my astonishment at the verdict. I regret exceedingly that the two paintings could not have been placed side by side under an equal light. And now, gentlemen, allow me to suggest a few of the reasons, involving, as they naturally do, a little art criticism, why I believe I am justly entitled to the gold medal for the most meritorious exhibition in the Seventh Department.
 First-Were not mine the most complete and highly finished paintings exhibited? I claim that they were. Any painting, to be entitled to high rank as a work of art, must not only be tinished in the sense that leaves nothing more to be added to its composition in the way of thoroughly elucidating the story intended to be told by the artist. It should teil the story at a glance. It should represent nature in a grand manner in her most beautiful and attractive forms and colors. If the painting be a landscape, you will remember that the greatest masters of their calling have made the study of and the painting of clouds a most effective and important part of their compositions. The principal lights should be so judiciously contrasted as materially to enhance the value of the darker portions of the work. Unity of effect and story are as import- ant to the painter of an epic landscape, and certainly requires as much power in the originating mind of the artist who designs and paints it, as is involved in the writing of a drama. The highest type of all painting—of all art—is that which, comprehending all the qualities I have enumerated above, joins to them a careful finish of every detail, and which leaves on the mind of the beholder as unmistakable a sign of refined intelligence of the artist who produced it as it is possible to discern in any work of human agency. Upon what principle of criticism the judges could find the qualities I have mentioned as entitling Mr. Keith’s landscapes to rank in any respect above mine, I am at a loss to discover. During thirty years of my life, earnestly and lovingly devoted to my art, and with an unflagging energy in the pursuit of all knowledge that can ennoble and elevate it, I have endeavored to advance its interests by every honorable means.
Thus far, gentlemen, I have argued in support of the position that I not only had the best portrait, but by far the best landscapes, in the Fair. And if so, why then assuredly the most meritorious exhibition (p. 175) in the Seventh Department, and entitled to the society’s medal. One question more, touching the somewhat arbitrary standard fixed in the minds of the judges of the comparative value of portraits and landscapes as works of art, and I close. Mr. Keith, it was decided by the æsthetical judges, was entitled to the premium for best landscape; ergo, he was awarded also the premium of fifty dollars for the best exhibition of paintings! Also forty dollars additional for the best collection! And of course my portrait of the child ranked below the landscape exhibition. To this I would simply answer, that if to endow a head with such an appearance of life that the eye shall seem fairly to rival the brilliancy of nature, the lips seem ready to part in speech or laughter, and the whole so cunningly wrought by the skillful mind and hand of the artist as to seem instinct with the warm incarnation of humanity itself; if to do this be not the highest of all artistic attainments, then most certainly the greatest names emblazoned in the annals of ancient and modern art are unworthy of the places they occupy. It is some- what singular no colored photograph could ever, or has, or ever can, come anywhere near the best work of the accomplished portrait painter from the life.
Finally, gentlemen, if the six oil paintings exhibited by me, which included my large picture of the “Last of the Mohicans” and a portrait, admitted to be masterly in every respect of its treatment, did not form the most meritorious exhibition, as it was generally conceded to be the most attractive one, and if it should not be so regarded by the Board, I should most certainly feel discouraged from ever again venturing into the field of such a competition. With these few hastily written thoughts and suggestions respectfully submitted, I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant, Alfred Hart, Artist.” (p. 176)
Report of Gold Medal Committee for 1872.”
To the California State Board of Agriculture:
Gentlemen: We have the honor to report the result of our’ examination and conclusions, as follows:
We were not notified of our appointment until some days of the Fair had passed; but as soon as we could we held a meeting, and went through the building and examined carefully each and every exhibition. In order, then, to become acquainted with the especial merits claimed by each exhibitor, we invited written statements of the grounds upon which the merit was placed and the medal claimed, both for our own information and assistance, and the information of the people generally, who are interested. When the time set for these statements to be handed in arrived, we met at the office of the society in Sacramento and gave them all a careful reading and consideration, and thereupon made the follow. ing awards:
The medal in the First Department-live stock-having been awarded by another committee, we commenced with the
Second Department.-The medal in this department was awarded to Goodwin & West, of San Francisco, for the Goodwin pump.
Third Department—To Anna Gettz Lucas, of San Francisco, for wax fruits and flowers.
Fourth Department—To Carlton Newman, of San Francisco, for home-made glassware.
Fifth Department—To Robert Williamson, of Sacramento, for exhibition of vegetables.
Sixth Department—To E. F. Aiken, of Sacramento, for exhibition of dried fruits.
Seventh DepartmentTo Alfred Hart, of San Francisco, for paintings in oil.
All of which is respectfully submitted.
E. S. Carr,
S. J. Finney,
Warren Wasson,
Horace Adams,
E. Kenyon.” (p. 177)]

1875

Journal of the Board of Education of the City of New York 1875. New York: Cushing & Bardua, Steam Book and Job Printers, 1875. 43 p.
[“Wednesday, February 2nd, 1875”
“Stated Session.”
“…Commissioner Farr presented a report from the Committee on Normal Schools, recommending the payment of sundry bills for Apparatus, &c., supplied the Normal College, and accompanied with the following resolution: Resolved, That the following named bills for Apparatus, &c., supplied the Normal College, be, and the same are hereby approved for payment.
E. & H. T. Anthony.                                                                                $45 50
E. & H. T. Anthony.                                                                                $31 50
E. & H. T. Anthony.                                                                               $9.00                            (p. 111)
Alfred A. Hart.                                                                                      $55 75
E. B. Benjamin.                                                                                     $23 20
                                                                                                            $164 95
James W. Farr, J. M. Halsted, Lawson N. Fuller, Committee on Normal Schools.”                    (p. 112)]

The Corporation of the City of New York. Communication from the Comptroller Transmitting Report of the Auditor of Accounts, Being Detail of All Warrants Drawn on the City Chamberlain for the Quarter Ending September 3, 1874. Board of Aldermen, December 2, 1875. Document No. 10. New York: F. B. Fisher, Printer and Stationer, 1875. 272 p.
[“Appropriation Accounts.”
(Etc., etc.)
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Warrant No.      Date                   Name.                       For What Purpose                               Amount.
——————————————————————————————————————————————  
(Etc., etc.)
12478               May 7.              Alfred A. Hart                 Lantern slides                                      $4.50
12479               May 7.              Alfred A. Hart                 Lantern slides                                      $36.00
(Etc., etc.)                                                                                                                                 (p. 117)]

1876

The Corporation of the City of New York. Communication from the Comptroller Transmitting Report of the Auditor of Accounts, Being Detail of All Warrants Drawn on the City Chamberlain for the Quarter Ending March 31, 1875. Board of Aldermen, December 2, 1875. Document No. 17. New York: Martin B. Brown, Printer and Stationer, 1876. 269 p.
[“Appropriation Accounts.”
(Etc., etc.)
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Warrant No.      Date                   Name.                       For What Purpose                               Amount.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
   6740              Mar. 4.              Alfred A. Hart        Astronomical slides, November 1874          $55.75
(Etc., etc.) 
   6849              Mar. 6               Mary Holly             Cleaning Primary School No. 35                     $74.00
   6953              Mar. 6               E. & H. T. Anthony Lantern Slides, Oct. & Dec. 1874                    $86.00
(Etc., etc.)                                                                                                                                  (p. 131)

1881

“Patents Granted June 14, 1881.” OFFICIAL GAZETTE OF THE UNITED STATES PATENT OFFICE. 19:24 (June 14, 1881): 1515-1516.
[“242,823. Magic Lantern. Alfred A. Hart, New York,
N. Y., assignor of one-half to Angeline E. Newman, same place.
Filed Feb. 28, 1881. (No model.)
Claim.-1. In a magic lantern, the combination, with the main (p. 1515)
[Sketch of the device.]
box or casing containing the object-tube and lenses, of the side flaps,  d’e, and top flap, c, hinged to the rear end of the main casing, the dome-flaps g and h, hinged to the top edges of the side walls, O c1 c2, the gable-flap c3, hinged to the dome-flap g, and end flap, e, hinged to the outer end of the flap or wall c2, all arranged to fold around the casing a or to be unfolded and locked together and form a lamp or flame chamber, c, substantially as set forth. 2. In a magic lantern constructed with a series of hinged flaps which may be unfolded and formed into a flame or lamp chamber, the combination, with the hinged side c1, of a reflector, f, hinged by a suitable arm or flap to the outer end of the side c1, so that it may be turned to throw the light into the objective-tube or be turned into the objective-opening a2 when the device is folded together, substantially as set forth.”     (p. 1516)

1887

Testimony Taken by the United States Pacific Railway Commission,
Appointed Under the Act of Congress Approved March 3, 1887,
Entitled “An Act Authorizing an Investigation of the Books, Accounts, and Methods of Railroads Which Have Received Aid from The United States, and   for Other Purposes.”
Robert E. Pattison, of Pennsylvania, Chairman, E. Ellery Anderson, of New York, David T. Littler, of Illinois-Commissioners.
Volume VIII.
Reported by Charles P. Young, of New York,
Secretary and Stenographer to the Commission.
Washington: Government Printing Office, 1887. 10 v. in 5. 2 fold. pl. 2 fold. Maps. 23 cm.
[50th Congress, 1st Session. Senate. Ex. Doc. 51, Part 9.]
[“Reports of Accountants. On items of expense appearing in C. P. Huntington’s accounts for the year 1869.” (pp. 4555-4556).
“Accounts receivable.”
(Etc., etc.)
697. A. P. and L. Stanford.                                                                    $55,066.90
697. Leland Stanford (Salt Lake account).                                        $6,809.43
698. A. A. Hart.                                                                                     $259.50
699. State of California                                                                        $6,713.00
(Etc., etc.)                                                                                                                         (p. 4556)

“Current statement of the Central Pacific Railroad Company of California, for the year ending December 31, 1870.” (pp. 4560-4561)
“Amount of net urnings”                                                              $3,774,951.79
(Etc., etc.)
“Less:                                                                                                                                 (p. 4560)
(Etc., etc.)
“Less-continued:
Reclamations on freight, Summit Ice Company.                                 $7,747.43
Overcharges, United States Post-Office Department,
July, August, and September .                                                                $767.52
Twenty California and Oregon Railroad bonds paid Mrs. Baldwin    $20,000.00
P. Reilly, damages                                                                                 $3,070.91
Loss on store account                                                                            $7,255.65
Less cashier’s account, Clipper Gap Agency.                                       $75.86
B. B. Redding, cash loaned..                                                                  $200.00
Haggin & Tevis                                                                                      $34.85
A. A. Hart.                                                                                             $262.43
John Bigler..                                                                                          $500.00
State of California                                                                                  $6,428.90
Levee commissioners                                                                            $6,713.00
United States Government, 1867                                                       $48.50
Martin Rowan                                                                                         $50.00
Legal expenses..                                                                                    $119,355.74
Construction account.                                                                           $376,120.28
Profit and loss, general account.                                                         $2,061.91
                                                                                                                   $4, 048,727.20
Profit and loss                                                                                         $173,554.38
                                                                                                                        (p. 4561) (Etc., etc.)]
————————————————————————————————————————————————————

1888

Official Gazette of the United States Patent Office.
Volume XLII. January 3 to March 27, Inclusive, 1888.
Washington: Government Printing Office. 1888. 492 p.
[“Jan. 24, 1888”
“376,802. Method of Making Photographic Pictures. Alfred A. Hart, New York, N. Y., assignor to himself, Arthur C. Rowe, Orange, N. J., and George C. Leavenworth, Louisville, Ky. Filed July 27, 1887. Serial No. 245,461. (Specimens.) Claim-1. The process of photographic copying, consisting of, first, throwing an image of the thing to be copied upon a screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of which screen is composed of actinic and non-actinic parts, and, second, taking a photograph of such image as appearing on the screen.
2. The process of making photographic lined pictures, consisting of first, throwing an image of the picture upon a screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of which screen is subdivided more minutely into actinic and non-actinic lines or dots, and, second, taking a photographic picture of such image.
3. The process of making photographic lined pictures, consisting of, first, throwing an image of the picture upon a screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of which screen is subdivided more or less minutely into actinic and non-actinic lines or dots: second, varying by manipulation the relative proportions of the actinic and non-actinic subdivisions of the screen at different points on the image, so as to modify the lights and shadows therein as desired, and, third, taking a photographic picture of such image as so treated.
4. The process of making photographic lined pictures, consisting of, first, throwing a negative image of the picture upon a screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of which screen is subdivided more or less minutely into actinic and non-actinic lines or dots; second, varying by manipulation the relative proportions of the actinic and non-actinic subdivisions of the screen at different points on the image, so as to modify the lights and shadows therein as desired, and, third, taking a photographic picture of such negative image as so treated.
5. The process of making photographic lined pictures, consisting of, first, throwing an image of the picture upon a screen in a dark-chamber, such screen having a rough surface, the elevations of which are made actinic and the depressions non-actinic, (or vice versa 🙂 second, varying the relative proportions of the actinic and non-actinic subdivisions of the screen at different points on the image, by rubbing over it chalk or other friable material, so as to modify the lights, shadows, or design of the screen, and, third, taking a photographic picture of such image as so treated.
6. The process of making photographic lined pictures, consisting of, first, throwing a negative image of the picture upon a screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of which screen is subdivided more or less minutely into actinic and non-actinic lines or dots: second, varying by manipulation the relative proportions of the actinic and non-actinic subdivisions of the screen at different points on the image, so as to so as to modify the lights and shadows therein as desired, and, third, taking a photographic picture of such negative image as so treated. fourth, throwing upon the screen an image of the resulting lined positive picture, and, fifth, taking a photograph of such image.
7. The process of preparing photographic pictures for printing in several colors, consisting of, first, throwing an image of the entire picture upon a non-actinic screen in a dark-chamber; second, making actinic that portion of the screen which corresponds to the portion of the picture to be printed in a given color, and, third, taking a photographic picture of the partial image thereby made to appear upon the screen.
8. The process of preparing photographic pictures for printing in several colors, consisting of, first, throwing an image of the entire which screen is composed of more or less minute elevations and depicture upon a non-actinic screen in a dark-chamber, the surface of pressions; second, making actinic either the elevations or depressions upon that portion of the screen which corresponds to the portion of the picture to be printed in a given color, and, third, taking a photographic picture of the lined partial image thereby made to appear upon the screen.”                                                  (p. 324)]

CONTEMPORARY

Johnson, J. W. The Early Pacific Coast Photographs of Carleton E. Watkins, by J. W. Johnson. Professor of Hydraulic Engineering, University of California, Berkeley. “Archives Series Report No. 8.” Water Resources Center Archives. University of California, Berkeley Water Resources Center – University of California February 1960. 64 p., illus. 28 cm.
“…Among the existing collections of Watkins’ stereos, in particular the Society of California Pioneers’ collection assembled by Turrill, are about three hundred views of the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad. These views were made by Alfred A. Hart, a Sacramento photographer, and the negatives were purchased by Watkins (27). He incorporated these into his own series of stereos and printed a portion of them for sale. An extremely valuable small series of stereoscopic negatives relating to the Modoc War were also purchased by Watkins. These had been done by Louis Heller, a photographer of Fort Jones, California, whose pictures were certified by General Jefferson C. Davis to be the official pictures of the war (5).” (Etc., etc.) (p. 12)
“…(g) Society of California Pioneers, San Francisco. The stereos which comprised the Turrill collection of Watkins and Hart photographs, including some of the original negatives which were in Turrill’s possession at the time of the 1906 fire;…” (Etc., etc.) (p. 15)
“…(27) Over 340 of the Hart stereos of the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad are also in the possession of the Southern Pacific Railroad News Bureau, San Francisco….” (Etc., etc.) (p. 63)]

Kraus, George. High Road to Promontory: Building the Central Pacific [now the Southern Pacific] Across the High Sierra. Palo Alto, New York: American West Publishing Co., Castle Books, 1969. 317 pp. illus. [History of the building of the Central Pacific R. R. in the 1860s, illustrated with photographs drawn from A. A. Hart’s stereographs.]

Kibbey, Mead B. Edited by Peter E. Palmquist. The Railroad Photographs of Alfred A. Hart, Artist. Sacramento, CA: The California State Library Foundation, 1996. 238 pp. 89 illus. [Introduction and History of the Construction of the Central Pacific Railroad, Alfred Hart: Photographer, Author and Publisher, Hart’s Photographic and Production Methods. Includes seven appendixes: Reproductions, numerical and geographical lists of all of Hart’s CPRR stereo views, list of public sources of Hart’s views, reprint of Glenn Willumson’s article on Hart, replicas pages from Hart’s travel book, stereo camera details.]

Francaviglia, Richard V. Over the Range: a history of the Promontory summit route of the Pacific. Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2008. 333 p.; illus. maps. 25 cm.
[Detailed geography and history of the C.P.R.R. and U.P.R.R. meeting at Promontory Point, Utah. Some photos discussed briefly. Hart discussed on pp. 102,140-142, etc. Some of his stereos published.]

Willumson, Glenn. Iron muse: photographing the Transcontinental Railroad. Berkeley: University of California Press, [2013] x, 242 p.: illustrations (some color) ; 27 cm. [Includes bibliographical references (pages 217-229) and index.]



PERIODICALS

1867

4 b &w (“Central Pacific Railroad-Chinese Laborers at Work.” “Central Pacific Railroad–The Giant’s Gap.” “Central Pacific Railroad-View on American River.” “Central Pacific Railroad-Donner Lake.”); 1 illus. (“Central Pacific Railroad–Map and Profile Map of the Line from Omaha to San Francisco. – Drawn by C. H. Wells”) on p. 772 in: “The Central Pacific Railroad.” HARPER’S WEEKLY 11:571 (Dec. 7, 1867): 771‑772. 4 b & w, 1 illus. [“In speaking lately of the railroad which is shortly to span the continent, and unite the Mississippi and the Pacific, and which ought to be called the “Continental Railroad,” we purposely ignored the separate existence of the two roads known as the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific, and spoke of the entire route from Omaha to San Francisco as one line, as, when they are finished, they will be practically. Some of our friends have supposed this to be an inadvertence, and several letters have suggested to us that perhaps, after all, the public does not generally understand that two corporations are engaged in this gigantic work; and that though the Union Pacific from Omaha west, and the Central Pacific from Sacramento east, are to unite at Salt Lake City, and become the great Pacific Railroad, they are for the present not only distinct and separate, but, in a certain sense, rival corporations. The rivalry exists in this—that the first company which shall complete its road to Salt Lake City shall be entitled to the national charter and national land and money grants for the whole line from Omaha to Sacramento. We give in this Number of the Weekly a diagram which will perhaps better explain this, and which at the same time shows the work completed on each route, the work to be done, the distances, and, with the aid of the profile Map which we give, in a measure the nature of the difficult labor. By this Map it will be seen that the Central Pacific Company has built something over 160 miles of its road, and reached the summit of the Sierra Nevada, next to the highest level on the road, and has 385 miles to finish to Salt Lake City; that the Union Pacific Company has built 516 miles of its road, and has 439 miles to finish to Salt Lake City. The immense work is prosecuted with the utmost vigor by both parties, and it is confidently believed that it will be finished before 1870. The latest report of the United States General Land-Office Commissioner shows that this country is now (p. 771) 3000 miles in advance of England on our routes to China, Japan, and the East Indies. When this line of railroad is completed, and passengers can be carried across the continent in a week, instead of taking three times as long via Panama, and six times as long around the Horn—when goods can be sent from Hong-Kong to London in forty days, and to New York in thirty, it is easy for the most unimaginative person to see the effect which will be produced on American
Commerce. Accompanying this very suggestive Map are several views on the Central Pacific Railroad, which still further illustrate the difficulties encountered in its construction. The first of these represents the Chinese laborers at work on the road up the Sierra Nevada. The Central Company has over 10,000 of this race in its employ. The picture gives some idea of the Herculean nature of the work of tunneling and excavating through the solid granite of the mountains. The “Giant’s Gap,” a gigantic opening in the mountains, shows the rugged nature of the country. The third engraving is a view on American River, which flows through a narrow valley between peaks which tower 5000 feet above its waters. “Donner Lake” has an elevation of 5964 feet above the level of the ocean and is surrounded by lofty peaks. The view obtainable from some of these peaks can not be surpassed in grandeur, beauty, and extent in any part of Europe, save by that from Mont Blanc.” (p. 772)] [Although not credited, the four views of construction of the Central Pacific R. R. are drawn from stereos by Hart.]

1868

2 b & w (“Long Ravine Branch.” and “Donner Lake.”) on p. 37 in: “The Central Pacific Railway, North America.” ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS 52:1464 (Jan. 11, 1868): 37, 42. 2 b & w. [“The chief links in the vast system of railway communication, which will soon connect the Atlantic and Pacific shores of the great American Republic together, are the “Union Pacific Railway,” extending 1600 miles, from the city of Omaha, in the State of Nebraska, to the western boundary of Nevada, and the “Central Pacific Railway of California,” forming a junction with the line from Nebraska, and uniting it with San Francisco. The Union Pacific Railway is connected also with lines from St. Louis, in Missouri, and from Leavenworth, in Kansas, as well as with the railways of Iowa, Illinois, and the other more populous States of the Union. Its course westward passes through a wild and almost uninhabited country to the Rocky Mountains, then by way of Utah and the Great Salt Lake to California, crossing two lofty mountain ranges, A company, with a capital of one hundred million dollars, or twenty millions sterling, was formed some years ago, and assisted by Congress with most liberal grants of land and money. The work was commenced in the spring of 1864, and is now completed almost to the foot of the Rocky Mountains, both from Omaha and St. Louis; while the Californian portion, from the Pacific coast, has made no less rapid progress. We have engraved two illustrations of the scenery traversed by this railway, which were supplied by Mr. Geo. E. Grey, the consulting engineer.
The first view is taken at Long Ravine, at a point where the Central Pacific line crosses the ravine by a wooden bridge, at a height of about 120 ft. above the ground. The main structure is designed on the principle known in the United States as the Howe truss, which is remarkable for its economical proportions and great stability. The second view is from the summit of Donner Pass, in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, looking eastward. Donner Lake lies below, and the Washoe silver-mining regions are seen in the distance. This lake is a beautiful sheet of water supplied perpetually by the melting snows of the Sierra. It is about one mile wide and five or six long, and lies at an elevation of about 6000 ft. above the level of the sea.
The Donner Pass is a depression in the Sierra Nevada (though 7043 ft. above the sea) which the Central Pacific Railroad Company have selected as the most suitable place to cross the mountain with their railway from the Pacific Ocean to the mineral regions of Washoe, Humboldt, and Reese River, thence to Great Salt Lake, connecting with the Union Pacific Railroad of which we have spoken.
The total distance by railway from New York, via the Pacific Railway, to San Francisco on the Pacific will be, when completed, about 3100 miles. At the present rate of progress in its construction it is evident that the country will not have to wait longer than the year 1871 for the final completion of this connecting link between the two oceans, Taken in connection with the Pacific steamers already plying between China and San Francisco, it is very likely to become the great highway to Asia for the European nations as well as for the Americans. The time for travelling between Hong-Kong and New York will be reduced to within thirty days; or forty days between Liverpool and Hong-Kong.” (p. 42)]

1869

Stillman, Dr. J. D. B. “The Last Tie.” OVERLAND MONTHLY AND OUT WEST MAGAZINE 3:1 (July 1869): 77-84. [“When we stood for the first time on the iron-bound shores of the Pacific a generation ago and looked upon their desolate mountains, after a voyage of more than half a year, we thought in our forlorn hearts that the last tie that bound us to our native land was broken. We did not dream that the tie that was to reunite us, and make this our native land forever, was then flourishing as a green bay tree in our woods; but even so it was, and here, in the month of May, it lay before us, a polished shaft, and in whose alternate veins of light and shade we saw symbolized the varied experience of our California life.
Would I accept an invitation to go to the “front” and see the last spike driven? Old veterans and companions in frontier life would be there-men with whom I had hunted grizzlies in the river jungles. We had hungered and feasted together on the Plains, slept with our feet to the same fire, and fevered side by side when the miasma had shrunk the blood in our veins. Could I refuse to share in this triumph on the great day, long prayed for, that was to witness the finishing blow to the greatest enterprise of the age? California would be there with her bridal gift of gold; Nevada and Arizona were coming with their silver dowers, and a telegram from Sacramento informed me that a place would be reserved for me in the special car that was to convey the high contracting parties of the first part to the scene of the memorable event. With one lingering look at the fireside where my children played, a cheerful word to my exhausted patients, and a hope that they might improve the opportunity of my absence to recuperate their wasted strength-I was off. The regular passenger train from Sacramento starts at about six o’clock (p. 77) after in a special one, consisting of superintendent’s car and a tender. The car was arranged with a kitchen, dining, bedroom, and parlor, with sleeping accommodation for ten persons; the tender was provided with water-tanks, for the greater part of our way was over regions where good water could not be obtained, refrigerator and stores for a protracted sojourn in the desert. A careless glance around was enough to lull any apprehensions that might have been felt from past experience, that we might be compelled to eat our stock on the road, or search for manna in the land of the “Diggers.”
Stretching myself out on a sumptuous lounge, I looked out on the brimming, turbid river and breathed the morning air laden with the perfume of a city full of roses. The pulse of life beat high, the town was on tip-toe of expectation, and gushing with the enthusiasm of triumph. The crowds cheered as we passed, and President Stanford on the platform bowed his thanks. Besides the President were the three Government Commissioners, Sherman, Haines, and Tritle, Chief Justice Sanderson, Governor Safford of Arizona, Collector Gage of Nevada, and a few others who, like myself, were not particularly distinguished but born to good luck.
Across the bridge and out upon the plain we flew, alternate flashes of wheat fields and flowery pastures, and ghosts of trees went by; the rumble and clatter of car wheels filled my ears and soon lulled me into a drowsy reverie, and I “dreamed a dream that was not all a dream.”
I stood as a child in my father’s door-yard and saw the rippling flood as it flowed for the first time over the sandy floor of that stream-small as it seemed when measured by the line, but mighty in its results-that immortalized the name of Clinton, and opened the great lakes and prairies of the west to the commerce of the Atlantic. A troop of the boys, barelegged, were frolicking in the frothy current; one stoops down and  catches a fish struggling half smothered,  and bears him away in exultation; the  booming of cannon rolls their pæans  of victory from the Hudson to Erie, and  back again through a wilderness, start ling the black bear from its covert and  awakening the land of the Iroquois with  the march of a mighty people.
Again I stood amidst a group of curious, skeptical men on “Albany Hill,” when a ponderous steamer on wheels was about to test the practicability of making steam a motive power on railways. They had been successful in England, and why not here? A line of road had been constructed for fifteen miles as straight as a beam of light from the sun and at a water level. I heard again the fizzing of the steam and the gush of water, as the machine vainly essayed to start. More fuel was supplied, the fizzing grew louder and sharper-slowly the wheels began to revolve but slipped on the track-sand was thrown on, when, with a cheer from the hopeful, the enormous black mass began to move off. The crowd grew excited and followed on, men on horseback led the way, determined to be in at the death and see how far the joke would go. Faster the iron horse moved on, faster the horsemen rode, and as the dreadful sounds redoubled, their steeds bolted the course, with starting eyeballs, terror-stricken. The locomotive was the victor; one dog alone contested the race, bounding and barking on till lost in the distance, and on the long vista, where the paralleled lines met, the black speck disappeared, leaving a film of smoke to float away among the pines. One man I could call his name-laughed outright; another shook his head: “Somebody would get hurt yet.” Mr. Van Epps, my schoolmaster, said that he “never had any doubt that so much was possible, but he had many reasons for believing that steam could (p. 78) not be successfully introduced to the propulsion of carriages. It was a very pretty philosophical apparatus.”
And still I dreamed; the air grew momentarily cooler, the pines grew larger and darker, deeper and darker yawned the cañons, the train seemed poised in mid-air, now flying through tree-tops, and now circling like an eagle the beetling cliffs they call Cape Horn. Far below, rivers flowed like silken threads, and as silent; above us, the snowy peaks kept creeping down, and sombre shadows of giant pines, whose vast trunks had withstood the storms for a thousand years, oppressed us with their gloom. We plunge into the bowels of the mountain and out at once into the sunlight and past the cheerful dwellings of men. We are cribbed in by timbers, snow-sheds they call them; but how strong! Every timber is a tree trunk, braced and bolted to withstand the snow-slide that starts in midwinter from the great heights above, and gathering volume as it descends, sweeps desolation in its path; the air is cold around us; snow is on every hand; it looks down upon us from the cliffs, up to us from the ravines, drips from overhead and is frozen into stalactites from the rocky wall along which our road is blasted, midway of the granite mountain. We are in pitchy darkness in the heart of the mountain-the summit of the grade; out again into the light; on, on through wooden galleries mile after mile; a sylvan lake flashes out from its emerald setting among the mountains a well-dressed gentleman touches me on the arm, and taking a cigar from his lips, asks me if I will not take luncheon. “Where are we?” I respond. “There is Donner Lake and we will soon be at Truckee.” “Two by honor and the odd card, that gives you the rubber-Jake says ‘Lunch,’ and we will go and get our revenge in the dining-room.”
I was on earth again.
Truckee was the first place that I could realize. It is worth a trip over the mountains to see that city alone. The whole place is “bran-new”; every board in every house, and there are many of them, looks as if just from the saw-mills, so fresh and bright; such crowds of great, healthy-looking, bearded men. The enormous amount of lumber in and around this place creates a wonder in the mind of one coming from the west-What will be done with it? but one approaching from the east will exult more than wonder. Down the valley of the Truckee River winds the great highway, crossing the river several times. Just before entering a tunnel, when the road slips in between the mountain and the river, we came near driving our last spike. Some Chinamen on the mountain side were cutting trees, and seeing the regular train pass, and knowing nothing of a special one, they probably thought it a fit time to run a log down the mountain. But whatever may have been their intention, the log landed on the railroad just before us-its length fifty feet and its greatest diameter three and a half feet—the smaller end rested on the track midway between the rails, and the other rested on the bank at an angle of about forty-five degrees. The short turns of the road prevented the threatening danger from being discovered until we were almost upon it; but the promptness of the engineer, and the lightness of the train, saved us from a catastrophe. The pilot picked up the log, or did its best to do it, and went through bankruptcy; but the force of the blow was not lost, for the heavy frame of the engine tripped the log and landed it where there was just room for it, yet did not prevent it from clearing away the steps of the starboard side of the train from stem to stern. The only person injured—and he but slightly-was one of our party who was on the engine, who, seeing what (p. 79) seemed an inevitable crash, jumped from the train. The force of the blow can be conceived from the fact that the log was broken through the middle, where it was at least three feet in diameter.
It was near sundown when we reached the last crossing of the Truckee, where our crippled locomotive was sent into the hospital, and our cars were made fast to the regular train. Here the desert proper begins; here for five hundred miles we lose sight of sweet running water, and the attention of the traveller is arrested by the water trains -numerous tanks mounted on trucks, used to supply the grand army of laborers and animals while the work was going on, with all the water they used. The worst part of the overland route was always represented by the early emigrants as this forty miles from the Truckee River to the Sink of the Humboldt, or Humboldt Lake as it is now more generally called. There is absolutely no water that is not hot and poisonous, and the low shrubs that abound everywhere are bitter and unwholesome to animals. The bunch grass on which the animals support life thus far, here gives out entirely, and it was this last forty miles that broke the hearts of so many faithful animals in the memorable emigration of 1849, and their bones still lie at every rod in the sands where they fell, to witness for years to come the terrible sufferings they endured. The nearer they came to the life-giving waters of the Truckee the more abundant these sad memorials are strewn. Several of our party were among the overland emigrants of that year, and they pointed out where, one by one, their animals perished, where they abandoned their wagons, and where their guns the last article they could afford to part with—were planted, muzzle downward, into the hillocks in the desperate struggle for water and life. The coniferous trees we left far back on the slopes of the Sierras, and a few cottonwoods or poplars only flourished here and there along the banks of the lower part of the river. But there is no spot so desolate that does not teach some thrilling lesson in the world’s history. If you would study the anatomy of the human form you must strip it naked; the region before us required no such denuding process; in the economy of Nature it was bare enough, and its very bones were everywhere exposed to the eye. The stunted growth of pale, green, bitter shrubs did not conceal the earthy salts that covered the ground with their frostwork, and the swift wheels of the train raised a cloud of ash-colored dust that settled over everything. Yet no man would have had the speed slackened on that account. It was a country that one could not travel over too fast. The lessons taught in Physical Geography in that one day’s travel were deeply interesting. To pass from the extremes of fertility through Alpine snows between sunrise and sunset of the same day cannot be done everywhere, or anywhere else as far as I know. Why this contrast? In what age of the world was this “great basin,” through which the Pacific Railroad runs for hundreds of miles, drained of the mighty flood that filled it and which has left its water lines hundreds of feet above us as distinctly legible as those that are washed to-day? From the great Mud Lake on the north, away south where the Pyramid drinks up the Truckee, and the Humboldt and Carson sink in the alkaline sedge and Walker’s River finds its grave, and eastward to the palisades of the Humboldt is the bed of what was once an inland sea larger than any body of fresh water now known upon the globe. If the water had disappeared by evaporation the change would have been gradual; but the appearances indicate distinct periods of subsidence. In the valley of the Great Salt Lake there are five well-marked ancient (p. 80) beaches, or benches as they are there called; the highest is best defined, and is eight hundred feet above the present level of the lake; there is no outlet in all its borders, and if the water should return to its old level it would cover every habitable spot on its shores. The novelty of a spring-bed in a railroad car was too great to allow of sound sleep; it was too much like being tossed in a blanket all night; and with the first light of morning I was up. The air was cold, and snowy mountains were in sight one is never out of sight of them. A volume of steam in the distance indicated hot springs.
At Elko we parted with the most of our passengers, who were bound for the White Pine country a hundred miles south of the railroad. Another night brought us to the front, where we saw the novel sight of a town on wheels. Houses built on cars to be moved up as the work progressed. Here were the Chinamen who had built more railroad in a given time than was ever done before by any people. The Central Pacific Company had been battling for years with the formidable difficulties of the Sierra Nevadas; and when at length they descended from the mountains they passed like a hurricane across the open country. All the material except the lumber was transported around the continent; and yet with such vigor was the work pushed forward, that three hundred miles of the road was constructed in nine months. Ten miles of track were laid in one day; and it is worthy of note, that all the rails were taken from the trucks and deposited in their places by eight men, four on a side. These rails weigh on an average five hundred and sixty pounds; and allowing fifty feet to each rail, the amount of iron borne by each man during the day of eleven hours was seventy-four tons! This was without relay. The names of the men who performed this feat are justly a part of this record. They were: Michael Shay, Patrick Joyce, Thomas Dailey, Michael Kennedy, Frederick McNamara, Edward Killeen, Michael Sullivan, and George Wyatt.
We arrived at Promontory Summit on Friday, under the information that the connection of the two roads would be made on the following day. The morning was rainy and dreary; two or three tents were pitched in the vicinity for the rendezvous of those ruffians who hang about on the march of industry, and flourish on the vices of men. The telegraph operators at the end of the respective lines were then within a few rods of each other, and communication was opened with the officers of the Union line to the eastward of us. We were informed, after some delay, that it would be impossible for them to arrive before Monday. The delay seems to have been an unavoidable one; but it was to cause a great disappointment to the people of California, whose arrangements for a celebration the next day were completed. The intelligence was sent back to Sacramento and San Francisco; and messages were returned that the celebration must take place according to the published programme; that it could not be delayed without defeating its object altogether. We all felt the embarrassment of our position keenly; but we tried to make the best of circumstances we could not control. To spend three days in this desolate spot, surrounded with sage-brush, with only such neighbors as would make it dangerous to venture away from the car, lest we have our throats cut on the suspicion that we might have a spare quarter in our pockets, was not charming. The camps of the construction parties of each road had fallen back from the summit to the low ground near the lake, after the close of one of the most celebrated contests of engineering skill and energy on both sides ever known, and were resting on their arms. (p. 81)
One-half of our party procured a conveyance to the camps of the Union Pacific, where General Casement, their Superintendent of Construction, generously dispatched a train to convey them to Ogden. On the following day the same gallant officer came up to the end of his track, with a special train which he put at the disposal of Governor Stanford to take the rest of us over their road. The offer was accepted, and we ran down to Weber Creek station, and an opportunity was enjoyed of viewing some of the finest mountain scenery in the world. The Wasatch Mountains rise from the plain on the west shore of the lake to the height of six thousand feet above its surface, or ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. They are the very ideal of inaccessible snow-covered mountains, set off by the green fields and blushing tints of the peach orchards just coming into flower. Mr. Hart, the Central Pacific artist, who accompanied us, took some fine views of this mountain from the railway overlooking the town of Ogden. The tiderip is well marked where the currents of traffic from East and West meet-where the barley from the West greets the corn from Illinois, where paper is currency, and coal takes the place of Juniper trees as fuel. We feel, while looking about, that we have met half way. A genuine thunder storm seemed to have been got up for the occasion and drove us all indoors, while we were at Ogden, and cooled the air, Here we found plants common at the East, but unknown in California—as the old familiar Taraxicum or Dandelion; and Rhus toxicodendron or Poison Ivy takes the place of the Rhus diversiloba or Poison Oak. On the following day we ran our own train back, about thirty miles, to Monument Point at the north end of the lake-the only point where the railroad touches it; and we spent several hours upon its shore. A beautiful sea is Salt Lake when seen from an elevation its color varying from brilliant blue to green; but a study of its briny shore reveals it as a dead sea in which no living thing is found. The waves cast up masses of the remains of insects which have perished on its surface, and which are known as the “grasshopper line” the high-water mark. A few fish in the lake would allow no grasshopper line along the shore; but here the insects are pickled when they perish, and are finally blown ashore. Its islands, when visited by Fremont and Stansbury, were inhabited by myriads of birds, where undisturbed they bred in security; but we saw no living thing within or above its waters. Our steward with his gun procured a mess of snipe from a marsh where a fresh water brook lost itself in the sedge at a distance from the lake-among them was a rufus-headed Avoset!
On the morning of the tenth, as we looked out of the car, we saw a force of Union Pacific men at work closing up the gap that had been left at their end of the road, and the construction trains brought up large numbers of men to witness the laying of the last rail. About ten o’clock the whistle announced the long-expected officers from the other side. We went over at once to meet them. In a superb piece of cabinetwork, they call a “Pullman car,” we met Vice President Durant, of whom we have heard so much, with a black velvet coat and gay neck-tie, that seemed to have been the “last tie” to which he had been giving his mind, gorgeously gotten up. General Dodge was there, and he looked like business. The veterans Dillon and Duff were there to give away the bride. General Dodge on the part of the Union Pacific, and Edgar Mills on the part of the Central Pacific, were appointed to arrange the preliminaries.
The munificence of private citizens of San Francisco had contributed two gold spikes, each designed to be the (p. 82) last one driven. Gentlemen from Nevada had contributed a silver one, at whose forging a hundred men had each struck a blow. The Governor of Arizona, also on behalf of his Territory, had one of silver. The Laurel tie that we brought with us was adjust ed to its place; and in order that each gold spike should be the last, one was presented by Governor Stanford, President of the Central Pacific, to Vice-President Durant, of the Union Pacific, who should drive it as the last on the latter road, while the other was to be the last on the Central road, and be driven last of all by Governor Stanford, who had thrown the first shovelful of earth at the opening of the road.
It had been arranged with Mr. Gamble, superintendent of the telegraph lines, that throughout the cities of the United States, wherever fire-alarm telegraphs were established, connection should be made with the last spike and the hammer that drove it, so that the blow should announce itself and fire cannon on the shores of both oceans at the same instant. Preparations having been completed, the operator sent notice to all stations throughout the country to be ready, and the whole nation held its breath. A reverend gentleman present was invited to invoke the blessing of Almighty God upon the work. The operator announced: “Hats off, prayer is being said ;” and as we uncovered our heads, the crowds that were gathered at the various telegraph offices in the land uncovered theirs. It was a sublime moment, and we realized it. The prayer ended, the silver spikes were driven. Durant drove his of gold. Stanford stood with the silver sledge gleaming in the air, whose blow was to be heard farther, without metaphor, than any blow struck by mortal man; the realization of the ancient myth of Jupiter with the thunderbolt in his hand. The blow fell, and simultaneously the roar of cannon on both shores of the continent announced the tidings: It is done! The alarm bells of the principal cities struck, one-two three-synchronous with the strokes of the hammer; and people rushed from their houses, thinking a general alarm of fire was being rung. The cause soon became known, and banners everywhere were flung to the breeze; other bells joined in the cry of joy and of triumph. Te Deum Laudamus was sung in the churches, and the chimes rung out the national anthems. The nation made a day of it.
But I set out to tell what we did there among the sage-brush, away there in the heart of the wilderness. We Californians were too few to make much noise. We did the best we knew; but we were swallowed up in the multitude that came up from the East.
The officers of a detachment of the Twenty-first regiment, with their wives, on their way to California, arrived in time to witness the ceremony; and soon after the detachment itself came up under arms, accompanied by the regimental band playing national airs. The locomotives from each side rolled over the place of junction as if to weld the union, touched pilots and screamed their best. The only women from California were Mrs. Ryan, wife of Governor Stanford’s agent at Ogden, and Mrs. Strowbridge, the wife of the superintendent of construction for the Central Pacific, who had been with her husband at the front during the whole time of the building of the road; and a post of honor was assigned her as the “Heroine of the Central.” The prearranged telegrams to the President of the United States, the Associated Press, and others, were sent off; and after cheering the companies and everybody interested, we adjourned to the car of Mr. Durant, when answers to our messages began to pour in from Chicago, New York, and Washington, announcing that the lines worked as intended, and that the country was in a blaze everywhere at the East. (p. 83)
Governor Stanford threw open his car, and the officers of the Eastern company returned his visit. And then the trains bound east and west went their respective ways; the troops who travel only by day went into camp; and after an ineffectual attempt to capture the officers of the Union Pacific Company and bring them prisoners to California, we steamed away from that spot which will be distinguishable until the sawed ties from the Sierras and the hewn ones from the Laramie are rotted away.
Years to come, the traveller as he passes the place will look out for the laurel tie and the gold and silver spikes that garnished the last rail that connected the two oceans with a continuous band of iron. Could they hope to see them there? Why, even before the officials left the spot they were removed and their places supplied with those of the ordinary material, and when the throng rushed up, the coveted prize was not there. What their fate would have been we can judge by that of their successors, which had to be replaced by new ones even before we left the spot. They were broken to pieces for relics; and the unfortunate rail itself was failing beneath the blows of hammers and stones, to be borne away in fragments as heirlooms.” (p. 84)]

1871

“Map of the Central Pacific Railroad.” CALIFORNIA MAIL BAG 1:1 (June 1871): unnumbered leaf following p. vi. [A fold‑out sheet 13 1/2″ x 35 1/2″ with a map of the Central Pacific R.R. and 24 engravings of views along the line of the route. Not credited, but the views are taken from stereographs made by Alfred Hart. The other side contains train schedules, routes, etc. This mapped was tipped into the first few issues of the magazine.]

1888

“Record of Photographic Patents.” PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES AND AMERICAN PHOTOGRAPHER 18:333 (Feb. 3, 1888): 60.
[“376,798. Combined Photographic Camera and Plate-holder. Joseph A. Davison, Polo, Ill.
376,983. Photographic Plate-holder. Willard H. Fuller, Passaic, N. J.
376,803. Method of Making Photographic Pictures. Alfred A. Hart, New York, N. Y.
376,840. Photographic Printing-frame. Leo F. Adt, Waterbury, Conn.”]

1889

“Record of Photographic Patents Issued.-1888.” AMERICAN ANNUAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY AND PHOTOGRAPHIC TIMES ALMANAC FOR 1889 (1889): 317-320.
[                       “Issued By The United States Patent Office, With Names of Patentees.”
                                                Revised By F. C. Beach.
                        October 18, 1887, To October 30, 1888.
—————————————
871,855.-Photographic Plate-Holder. Peter E. Rudell, New York, N. Y….(Etc., etc.)                                               (p. 317)
376,798.-Combined Photographic Camera and Plate-holder. Joseph A. Davison, Polo, III.
376,802.-Method of Making Photographic Pictures. Alfred A. Hart, New York, N. Y.
376,840.-Photographic Printing-frame. Leo F. Adt, Waterbury, Conn.
376,983.-Photographic Plate-holder. Willard H. Fuller, Passaic, N. J.
377,498.-Method of Photographic Printing in Fatty Inks….” (Etc., etc.)                                                      (p. 318)]

1896

“Editorial.” ART EDUCATION (Dec.-Jan. 1895-1896): 43. [“At a banquet of the M.N.A.S. Alumni, in Boston, Mr. T. H. Bartlett, the sculptor, once said: “The American public must have a fad; it simply cannot live happily without one.” Is this true of teachers? Once it was “environment,” then it was “apperception;” now it is “concentration” and “correlation.” To assist in this last wise movement, teachers of art will find the “Note-Book Illustrations” of the Prang Educational Company, Boston, helpful; also those published in “Photo-blue,” by Mr. Alfred A. Hart, No. 221 West 109th St., New York. (For cabinet size and larger photographs of all kinds of art works, the Soule Company, Boston.–Ed.)
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1918

Turrill, Charles B., “An Early California Photographer: C. E. Watkins.” NEWS NOTES OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARIES 13:1 (Jan. 1918): 29‑37. [“Note. The following account of the life and work of C. E. Watkins was written to accompany a catalog of the Watkins’ stereoscopic views. It is printed here as it is believed that the work of Mr. Watkins was a valuable one for California, and also that it is well to draw the attention of California libraries to the worth of these stereoscopic views, some of which every library may have. The State Library would be glad to complete its set and would like to hear from libraries having any of the Watkins or Hart stereoscopic views, which they would be willing to donate to, or deposit or exchange with the State Library.
The accompanying catalog of Watkins’ stereoptic views is an accurate transcript made by me several years ago from Mr. Watkins’ negative register. It is a complete copy of what is designated as “Watkins’ New Series. Any other Watkins’ stereos, excepting the Hart stereos, to be referred to later, belonged to the earlier work of Watkins. Those bearing smaller numbers are extremely rare.
The series of Watkins’ stereoptic views in the State Library collection numbered, for instance, 9, 41, 73, 330, etc., are a portion of what Watkins designated as the “Hart negatives.” This series, numbering somewhat more than three hundred, was made by A. A. Hart, a Sacramento photographer, during the period of the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad. Watkins purchased these negatives many years ago, and incorporated them in his series, printing for sale a portion of them. I have a complete catalog of these Hart negatives which I also copied from Watkins’ record, and which is annexed to this copy as a part thereof. It is questionable whether there are prints in existence of all these negatives. My collection lacks perhaps a dozen or so, and it is the largest collection of the Hart views in existence….” (p. 29) (Etc., etc.)
“…What might be called the Second Series of Watkins’ stereos which Taber secured, were always mounted on printed mounts, bearing serial numbers. Usually these mounts bore a copyright notice and on the reverse was printed a reproduction of the medal awarded at the Paris Exposition, being the first medal, according to Watkins, ever awarded for view photographs. Watkins’ earlier stereos were all taken by what was then known as a stereo camera.
The Hart stereos were also taken in the same way. In (p. 31) the “new series” of stereos a different system was adopted….” (p. 34) “…As previously mentioned, this series of stereos was made on a series of negatives 5½x14. Consequently, there were printed boudoir views of a very large portion. This especially applies to views of the missions. Also Watkins issued printed lists of his stereoscopic negatives of this southern trip, which I am quite positive is the only printed list of his work that was ever issued.
It has already been noted that Watkins obtained from Alfred A. Hart his series of 364 stereoscopic negatives showing the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad. These were progress pictures, and it seems to have been Hart’s plan to go each successive season to the then terminus of the road, photographing the work in that vicinity as well as in sections which had not been visited on previous trips, and also filling in views of structures which had not been begun at an earlier period. This explains the view of the round house at Rocklin, which chronologically is not in its proper place in the list….” (p. 35) “…. During the construction and the early days of the Central Pacific Railroad, Watkins did a large amount of photographic work for the company, though for some reason this did not begin until after the making of the Hart series before referred to. Watkins made photographic reproductions of a great many plans and drawings for the engineering department and for other departments of the road….” (p. 37) (Etc., etc.)]


CONTEMPORARY

Pattison, William D. “Westward by Rail with Professor Sedgwick: A Lantern Journey of 1873.” HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA QUARTERLY 42:1 (Mar. 1960): 335-349. 6 b & w, 4 illus. [(Stephen James Sedgwick toured professionally for several years in the 1870s giving illustrated lectures of the constructions, places, and scenery along the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad in a series of one and a half hour lectures. He used lantern slides copied from stereo views. The majority of these views were attributed to A. J. Russel and his team of Union Pacific photographers, yet at least one of Sedgwick’s lectures continued over the Central Pacific R. R. to the end in Sacramento, California. WSJ)
“…Sedgwick’s final lecture, in contrast to its three predecessors, depended for pictures almost entirely upon photographers operating outside the Union Pacific photographic corps.” To complete the contrast, the sources of information were apparently confined to travel accounts and guidebooks collected by Sedgwick. (21)…” (p. 347)
“…(21) The supplementary contributors were Central Pacific photographers, principally Alfred A. Hart, C. E. Watkins and Edward J. Muybridge.
(22)About thirty western travel sources are recorded in “Catalogue of the Library of S. J. Sedgwick, 1883,” MS at Ledge Rest, Sheffield, Massachusetts. No evidence of Sedgwick’s venturing westward beyond Union Pacific territory has been found.
23. Press notices and other sources for discussion of Sedgwick’s fourth lecture are contained in Announcement of Lectures (1879)….” (p. 348)
(C. R. Savage and William Henry Jackson also photographed along the railroad, and the confusions, some apparently generated by Sedwick himself, over the authorship of these photos was still not completely resolved in 1960 or even today. The article provides a valuable insight into the cultural impact of the U.P.R.R. and the photographs of its construction. WSJ)]

“The Muscle, the Gold, and the Iron: Documenting the Construction of the Central Pacific, The Stereographs of Alfred A. Hart.” AMERICAN WEST 6:3 (May 1969): 13‑19. 13 b & w. 1 illus.

Palmquist, Peter E. “Alfred A. Hart and the Illustrated Traveller’s Map of the Central Pacific Railroad.” STEREO WORLD 6:6 (Jan. ‑ Feb. 1980): 14‑18. 4 b & w. 4 illus. [Alfred A. Hart authored a railroad guidebook, and the “Traveller’s Map of the Central Pacific Railroad,” (ca. 1870), illustrated with twenty‑four engravings taken from his own stereographic views, of the building of the Central Pacific R. R.]

Willumson, Glenn G. “Alfred Hart: Photographer to the Central Pacific Railroad.” HISTORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY 12:1 (Jan. ‑ Mar. 1988): 61‑75. 13 b & w. 6 illus. [Extensive, detailed biography.]

McGonigal, Robert S. “The Railroad Photographs of Alfred A. Hart, Artist.” TRAINS 56:4 (April. 1996): 77-__.

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CIVIL RIGHTS PROTESTS – NEW ORLEANS, LA. 1961. By WILLIAM S. JOHNSON.

I found these photographs in a box of old stuff last week. (December 2018) They are photographs I took in New Orleans in 1961. They are 2¾ in. x 4 in. prints produced by a commercial drug store or camera store photo-printer. A few have “May 1961’ stamped on the back by the film processer, but the photos were probably taken earlier. There are no texts with the photographs. Frankly, while I had not forgotten the protests, I had forgotten that I had made these photographs. They are of a civil rights demonstration made by CORE, associated with sit-ins at of some Woolworth’s five & dime stores, which had not allowed blacks to eat at the lunch counters.
There were a series of these sit-ins in the in late 1960 and the Spring of 1961; and by this time a process had been worked out between the New Orleans police and the demonstrators. Early on, there had been some arrests, some of them violent, as demonstrators tried to actually sit at the counters. By the time of the event depicted here, the demonstrators, specifically pledged to non-violence, conservatively dressed and orderly, picketed the stores, walking carefully in a demarcated lane on the outside edge of the sidewalk. The police presence was there to protect the demonstrators from any mob action and then, at this time, arrest them without undue force, take them to a judge to be charged with some minor felony like public obstruction, and then be released on bail. The photos depict an arrest after one demonstration. The white male carrying the upside-down sign is Sydney Goldfinch. The name “Barbara Brent” is hand-written on the back of the print of the white woman carrying the sign “Don’t buy where you can’t eat.” I don’t know who any of the others are. I have just looked up some background information on the web and found out a lot more about the events than I knew at the time.
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“In 1960, almost 40% of New Orleans’ population was African American. The city’s main shopping avenue was Canal Street, where all stores were white-owned, predominantly Christian, had segregated facilities, and didn’t serve blacks at lunch counters. The second busiest shopping avenue was Dryades Street, where the stores were also white-owned, but store patrons were almost all black. Blacks could use the facilities, but were not employed in the stores aside from an occasional janitor. Many of the white storeowners were Jews, themselves prevented from owning stores on the more high-ranking Canal Street by the white Christian majority.
Late in 1959, Rev. Avery Alexander, Rev. A.L. Davis (SCLC), and Dr. Henry Mitchell (NAACP) organized the Consumers’ League of Greater New Orleans (CLGNO), an all-black organization, to fight employment discrimination by the Dryades Street merchants. Their lawyers, Lolis Elie, Nils Douglas, Robert Collins, Ernest “Dutch” Morial, and others, provided free legal counsel. For several months, the League tried to negotiate with the Dryades storeowners, but made no progress.
In April 1960, the League launched a boycott of the Dryades stores that wouldn’t employ blacks for anything but menial labor. The boycott was effective. The week before Easter was traditionally a good time for business, but on Good Friday the streets were empty. Shoppers were replaced by community members picketing the storefronts.
A few stores began to hire blacks, but most continued to refuse. The Consumers’ League claimed credit for thirty jobs for black people on Dryades Street. During the boycott, students from Xavier University of Louisiana (XULA), Dillard University, and Southern University of New Orleans (SUNO), New Orleans’ three major black colleges, and white students from Tulane and the University of New Orleans joined the picket lines on Dryades Street.
Over the next months, the boycott continued and customers took their business elsewhere. Many stores closed or moved to white suburbs rather than hiring Blacks. Dryades Street, once a bustling commercial center had become a ghost town.
The Consumers’ League boycott, apart from stopping business as usual on Dryades Street, helped cohere the black community in New Orleans. Lolis Elie claims the League was “in many ways a spiritual movement.” The boycott inspired other protests which led to the formation of the Citizens’ Committee, a federation of black organizations that worked on desegregating downtown stores, businesses and employment between 1961 and 1964. Also born out of the boycott was the Coordinating Council of Greater New Orleans (CCGNO), a federation of black organizations that organized voter registration drives between 1961 and 1965.
While the League’s pickets were temporarily stopped by an injunction, college students formed a Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) chapter led by former XULA student body president Rudy Lombard, Oretha Castle from SUNO, Jerome Smith (one of the students who withdrew from Southern University in Baton Rouge), and Hugh Murray, a white student from Tulane. Lawyers Collins, Douglas, and Elie agreed to represent the students in future actions after the ACLU refused.
On September 9, seven members of the new CORE chapter staged a sit-in at the Woolworth store on Canal Street. The integrated group of blacks and whites were arrested and charged with ‘criminal mischief.’ In contrast to the Dryades Street actions, the protest on Canal Street was seen as much more of a threat to the existing order because it threatened not the Jewish storeowners but the wealthy Christian elite of Uptown New Orleans.
On September 12, city mayor Chep Morrison issued a statement in response to the Canal Street sit-in claiming “the effect of such demonstrations [was] not in the public interest of [the] community” and “economic welfare of this city require that such demonstrations cease and henceforth…be prohibited by the police department.” The mayor banned further sit-ins.
Four days later, September 16, CORE field secretary Jim McCain, Reverend Avery Alexander, and other members of CLGNO were arrested for picketing stores on Claiborne Avenue. The following day, Rudy Lombard, Oretha Castle, Dillard student Cecil Carter, and Tulane student Sydney Goldfinch were arrested for sitting-in at the McCrory’s department store lunch counter. Goldfinch, who was a Jew, was charged with ‘criminal anarchy’ with a $2,500 bond and potential ten years in prison.
As police control increased, not only were sit-ins and picketers arrested, but also those handing out leaflets were arrested for ‘leafleting without a license.’ Halted by lack of bail money, CORE sit-ins continued sporadically as funds became available. Raphael Cassimire led the NAACP Youth Council, picketing storefronts to protest segregation and the arrests. Angry white crowds taunted, abused, and attacked the CORE and NAACP demonstrators, beating them, scalding them with hot coffee, and throwing acid on them.
Lawyers Collins, Douglas, and Elie asked John P. Nelson for assistance in representing those arrested on September 17. During the days following the arrests, almost 3,000 people attended a support rally for those in jail at the ILA (longshoremen’s union) hall, and SCLC leader A.L. Davis opened his church to CORE activists for meetings and training sessions in nonviolent action.
The most acute stint of action was over though some protesting continued for the next year. By late 1961, the economic elites of New Orleans were feeling the impact of the boycott.
Members of Chamber of Commerce and other local economic leaders formed a coalition to negotiate settlement to the protests at Canal Street stores and lunch counters. Storeowners were becoming nervous about continuing demonstrations and picketing by CORE and the Consumers’ League after news of struggling storeowners in Birmingham reached New Orleans.
Business leaders and leaders of the black community formed an informal conference to negotiate the desegregation of the town. Lolis Elie and Revius Ortique represented the black federation, known as the Citizens’ Committee, and continued negotiation that lasted for more than two years, eventuating in steps toward desegregation of the city. CORE agreed to remain passive during the negotiations as stores removed signs from toilets and drinking fountains and slowly increased black employment.
The New Orleans sit-ins, boycotts, and arrests continued for years, culminating in a large Freedom March in September of 1963. Very slowly, more public facilities were desegregated. Even though New Orleans integrated slowly after the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Dryades and Canal Street boycotts and pickets helped black solidarity in the city and involved students in the civil rights struggle.”
https://nvdatabase.swathmore.edu/content/new-orleans-citizens-boycott-us-civil rights-1960-1961 (Dec. 28, 2018)
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THE PHOTOGRAPHS. Copyright by William S. Johnson.


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I photographed this demonstration, but I also actually participated in a later demonstration, although I hasten to add that I wasn’t very political and I didn’t even know any of these people or any of this history until I read the above post today.
I was a sophomore at Tulane with a very simple, unadorned belief in justice and, apparently, a mild death wish. A friend of mine named Leonard Kratzer did have connections with some of these CORE activists and he told me about an upcoming demonstration and arranged for me to join it. On the day of the demonstration, edgy about both mobs and the police, obsessively humming Come by Yah to myself, I showered, put on dress pants, a white shirt and my only tie, (My normal clothes were blue jeans and a sweat shirt and I did not own a suit.) stuffed a pencil stub and folded paper in my shoe (for taking notes while in jail), and then Leonard drove me down to the demonstration on Canal street.
The way it was organized was that two people at a time, each carrying a sign, each starting at the opposite edge of the public space facing the store front, would walk up and down on the outer edge of the sidewalk in front of the store, crossing each other at the midpoint of their route, for the duration of their turn of picketing. (I can’t remember if the turn was for one or for two hours.) Then that pair would be relieved by another pair for their turn of patrolling the store. Everyone was supposed to be very polite, very correct, and very non-violent in their demeanor and actions. There was one other white person there that day, a blonde girl, who I didn’t actually meet. All the other demonstrators were very conservatively dressed, young, and black.
Leonard introduced me to the black girl who was my partner, whose name I didn’t really catch in the heat of the moment, I picket out a signboard, and then we started patrolling. I was 6 ft. 3 in. tall, weighed about 220 pounds, (The previous summer I had worked in a steel-fabricating plant in Ohio, and so was in pretty good shape.) and had a beard. (At this time beards were still so uncommon that they sometimes called for public comment, and I would be asked if I was Amish, a Jehovah’s Witness, a Hippie, or part of a rumored new social phenomenon that identified me as a Beatnik. I didn’t happen to be any of those things, but it comforted my questioner to place me in one or another category.) I was a little nervous as I picketed, which I dealt with by making some jokey comments to my partner while I paraded up and down. The point was that I didn’t look very respectable to my fellow demonstrators, nor did I show a sufficient gravitas to my colleagues, for whom this was a very serious, even life-threatening business, and everyone in our group seemed relieved when my turn was over without incident. My shift over, I left immediately – so I never even met the other demonstrators.

This photo has a date stamp of May 1961, so the demonstration had to have been sometime before that. But I may have waited until much later to get the photos developed up North, after I got back to Ohio. Oddly, this is the only photo that I have found of me demonstrating, although I’m sure the White Citizens’ Council files would have a few more.

And, to my mingled disappointment and relief, there was no confrontational incident. For reasons best known to themselves, the police did not make any arrests that day; and there was no howling mob of counter-protesters. This was, after all, not Mississippi, but New Orleans — the city which prided itself for being the most cosmopolitan in the South. The racism was a little more discrete and constrained in New Orleans.
There were only two small confrontations during my patrol, both, in retrospect, faintly risible.
The first was from a very old couple who strolled by me as I picketed. The man, probably 80 years old at least, almost five feet tall and, I swear, looking just like the Colonel Saunders — goatee and all — of modern TV advertising fame; quietly asked me as they went past: “How can you do this to your own people? To which I was quick enough to answer — “I’m doing this for my own people.” before they went out of range.
The second event was even less satisfying. As I paraded with my sign-board, another much younger but equally short, slight man kept dithering around, approaching me and breaking off his approach two or three times — clearly nerving himself up for a physical confrontation. Then he began to walk directly towards me. I caught his eye, slowly lifted the sign-board over my head with both hands and, basically, flexed my 220 pounds of steel-handling, hardened muscles, and looked like I was definitely prepared to fail the non-violent proscription of the CORE marchers. This fellow immediately spun around on his heels, ran across Canal Street — which was then thought to be the widest main street in America. (Several lanes for cars, a middle berm with two parallel trolley-car tracks, then several more lanes for cars) and from the opposite sidewalk yelled his angry opinions at me; (Curiously, with a heavy Spanish accent.) from several hundred yards away. Far enough away that I couldn’t really make out what he was actually saying.
So — with slightly deflated expectations for the day, I went back to the Tulane campus and the routines of student life, having played no very heroic role in the local movement for racial equality in America.
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In fairness to myself I should say that I did do a little more on this issue while at Tulane University.

This staid and rather innocuous flyer created a small storm on campus when it was published. (Additional texts and other signers on the verso not reproduced here.)

Once or twice Leonard brought some of his CORE friends to the Tulane student cafeteria and I would casually join them for a chat at the table which was surrounded by a large circle of frozen silence. After a while, everyone finished their coffee and left without incident. But this was really a small form of political theater and an even more awkward social situation than normal for me, and I didn’t really get to know anyone during these events.
And as a Junior, the only semester I actually lived in a dormitory on campus, I was picked to share the dorm room with the Sydney Goldfinch who had been active in the CORE demonstrations and who was now out on parole; as the administration thought we might be willing to room together. I met Sydney once briefly at the beginning of semester, then he never showed up in the room again. But I did get used to picking up the phone to a stream of vile and obscene threats and calmly saying, “Oh, you are looking for Sydney. I’m afraid that he’s not here now,” then hanging up. One byproduct of the sit-in demonstrations was that the White Citizen’s Council, a right-wing, racist group would create a dossier on you, with photos, etc., and then tend to follow up with harassing phone calls and the like from time to time. Sydney, being high profile, got a lot more calls than I did.
More significantly, I was a member of a small and very unofficial student group of political activists (mostly graduate students) who were determined to integrate the University. My role there was mainly to be the token undergraduate; however, I was also the editorial cartoonist and “Managing Editor” of the small journal/newspaper The Reed, which this group sporadically produced; running off several hundred copies on a mimeograph machine and distributing them around the campus. I worked as a part-time student assistant at the Tulane University printing office, so I had the skills and technology necessary for this position. I had earlier been refused a job at the university cafeteria because of the beard.

Curiously, given my Jackdaw nature, this is the only copy of the Reed I am now able to find, although I did get a complete set together for the Tulane University Archives, at their request, before I left town. I remember publishing several editorial cartoons on segregation, etc. in other issues of The Reed.

As “managing editor,” I recruited a small group of other undergraduates to hand out the paper around campus. Most of these were students from up north who had already decided that they were not coming back to Tulane next year anyway for academic or personal reasons. But, despite vague fears, there never were any violent confrontations about these matters on the campus. Tulane, calling itself “The Harvard of the South,” prided itself on its urbanity, had heavily recruited both students and faculty from around the country and abroad, and it was more liberal in its thinking than the surrounding city. Any overt hostility was suppressed, maybe only breaking out in the ferocious passion with which some of the fraternities — some southern, some New York Jewish — played each other in the intra-league softball games.
In any case, this informal student activist group did manage to embarrass the administration enough that the University did in fact integrate, admitting a single black man to the graduate Medical School program the year after I graduated, and within a few years there were black players on the Tulane basketball team.
But, never one for looking into the past, I lost track of what was happening at the University after I left, and afterwards I did not become involved in any type of political action, beyond signing an occasional anti-war petition during Vietnam. The equal rights movements intensified over the next few years, became extremely violent and vicious in some places, creating true heroes and many tragedies. Like most of my fellow citizens across the country, I followed these events with horrified disgust – but I was never again in a situation or place to actively participate again.

                                                   CODA

There was one odd situation that did arise later out of the White Citizen Council thing, and it was the only time that I personally felt actually threatened during the entire time. I happened to know a student, a former Marine, who, during the Christmas break, would buy an old banger auto, sell rides in the car to two or three students, then drive the car up to Cleveland, Ohio, dropping the riders off along the way, and then sell the car to some junk dealer – thus providing the cheapest ride for the students and a free trip home and maybe even a little pocket-money for himself. My parents were living in Wooster, Ohio at the time and I took this trip with him a few times. The only problem was that sometimes these cars didn’t always completely work, like the time we found out that the heater was broken when we got far enough north for it to matter.
Or, on this trip, as we were driving late at night through the endless pine forests of rural southern Mississippi, when a fuse blew and all the lights on the car went out. There was a full moon and a bright, clear sky that night, and one could almost see the trees by the side of the road in the milky moon light. So, the driver decided to try to tuck in behind some trucks and drive without lights until we would come to a truck stop where he could replace the fuse. So, we did this for about forty or fifty miles, suffering only one or two hair-breath escapes, along the way. I was sitting in the back seat behind the driver, when I realized that we were in Mississippi, and that if any police should see our car we would be stopped. The other students would probably be released without too much trouble, but with my beard and scruffy appearance I might have a little more trouble. This was the time when I began to seriously wonder about how connected the White Citizen’s Council’s files might be to other organizations throughout the South. In fact, I have to say that I really began to obsess about it during the hour it took us to find an open truck stop. But we did get to the truck stop, did find a fuse, were able to fix the car, and were able to drive out of Mississippi by morning. I have to admit to being very relieved when we drove over the state line into Tennessee.

                                                     ENDIT







TEN W. EUGENE SMITH PHOTOGRAPHS

Copyright for all photographs published here rests with the artist or with his Estate.

First, one must understand that for me, as for almost every other individual growing up in the 1950s who was interested in photography, W. Eugene Smith was considered the greatest living photographer by far. We had marveled at his LIFE photo-essays, which also helpfully kept pointing his talents out to its vast audience. And the various photography magazines were then heavily dominated by journalism and commercial photographic practices; and tended to publish articles titled “The World’s 10 Greatest Photographers,” etc., and W. Eugene Smith was always the first name to be brought out as the leading exemplar of creative practice in the field. At the time few museums collected photographs, fewer universities taught it as a fine-art. Photography was though by the art establishment to be a craft, or at best a semi-creative profession, and only a handful of photographers had any higher “artistic” pretensions. Smith was unusual in that he successfully co-mingled his extraordinary professional skills with a compelling creative aspiration; often lifting, through the force and beauty of his work, his professional tasks into works of creative art. His stubborn insistence that he could and should do so in the face of the system he worked within had cost him severely, both materially and emotionally, and his personal story had made him legendary among those people who followed these issues. And Smith’s liberal-humanist beliefs, which he so powerfully conveyed through his essays, also struck a responsive chord in my young mind.

In fact, my first formal photohistory lecture was on Gene Smith, in Len Gittleman’s beginning photography class at Harvard University. Interest in the visual media of film and photography was running red-hot among students in the US universities at the time and Gittleman, who taught the only course in photography at the university, had courageously allocated one of his precious twelve positions available for the class to me, a lowly employee of the university, instead of to any one of the two hundred or so legitimate students who had applied for the position. Gittleman required that each student in his class give a talk about an established photographer to the rest of the class. When my turn came, I loaded a book-truck up with about twenty bound volumes of LIFE magazines containing Smith’s photo-essays, wheeled the truck across the campus, and did a show and tell by opening and spreading these folio-sized magazines all over the large table that the class gathered around for these talks. (I could get away with this, as I was in charge of the circulation desk at the University library, and so had a privileged position vis-a-vis the issue of dragging a book-truck load of magazines around the Harvard Yard.) Later I became active in discovering the history of photography and, through several unusual circumstances, wound up teaching it part-time at Harvard and at Tufts University and elsewhere while still working at the library. Later, growing bored with librarianship, I left the university and became involved in teaching photographic history on a full-time basis. I was teaching at the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, NY when I was offered the job to go to Tucson and help Gene Smith put his archive collection together at the newly organized Center for Creative Photography.

Of course I accepted the job. I had thought that it was my resume, experience and charming personality that had got me the job and only when I arrived did I realize the truth. An administrative quirk at the University of Arizona meant that the position had to be offered to a professional librarian – and I happened to have that degree. The only other available candidate had been a young woman who was described as fairly “frail.” On the other hand, I was 6 ft. 3 in. tall, and weighed in at 210 pounds, and when I got to the university I was immediately faced with 44,000 pounds of stuff ranging from extraordinarily beautiful photographs to what seemed to be street litter (requiring over 3,000 square feet of storage space) stuffed into hundreds of boxes that had been hastily stored in whatever available locations that could be found around the campus. I was told the reason we knew that there was 44,000 pounds of stuff was that the eighteen-wheeler bringing it all from New York had been stopped for being overloaded at a weigh station somewhere in the Midwest, and the shipment had then been split into two loads on two trucks for the remainder of the trip. When I got there these materials were scattered all over the place and in the most chaotic disorder imaginable, and they were being anxiously and jealously defended by a grizzled old man who otherwise seemed barely able to stay upright for any great length of time.

Some additional backstory is necessary here. When first founded, the Center for Creative Photography was established with a very interesting premise. Initially, John Schaefer, the then President of the university, an ardent amateur photographer and Ansel Adams enthusiast, had wanted to acquire Ansel Adams photographs for the university. Adams, or his representatives, countered with a different proposal. He suggested that, instead of just collecting his photographs or any other random groups of photographs, that they start by collecting the complete archives of five or six of the major living photographers who formed a generation which, mostly by working in relative obscurity from the 1930s up to the fairly recent present, had regenerated or sustained the creative photography movement in the United States. The suggested artists were Ansel Adams, Wynn Bullock, Harry Callahan, Aaron Siskind, and Frederick Sommer. W. Eugene Smith was soon added to this core group. If Smith seems out of place in this listing of Modernist practitioners, please remember his role in raising photojournalism to an art form and the fact that during the second half of his career he had established himself as a “creative” photographer with those individual’s intent on establishing a new paradigm for American photography.

Adams’ plan was that the Center would collect a complete set of “master prints” of these individuals, as well as other work or study prints, correspondence, documents and all other pertinent materials from the artist. The artist, still living, would actually reap the benefit of their own work. (For example, Aaron Siskind, who had retired into a rather gentile poverty after a lifetime of teaching, was very grateful to the Center – in that the deal allowed him to travel broadly to keep extending his photographic vision until his death.) Each deal was different for the different artists. For example, Sommer, who has made and retained a very limited number of prints over his career, would have a very different type of contract than Smith, who, as previously noted, managed to bring 44,000 pounds of stuff to Arizona.

Smith’s deal, very roughly defined, was that he was to move to Arizona to teach as a full professor in the even more recently established photography section of the Fine Arts Department. (Harold Jones, after functioning as the first Director of the Center, had moved to the Fine Arts department to establish a MFA program in creative photography there – a move perhaps made to buttress the need for the museum of photography that had been summarily imposed upon the university by the enthusiastic President Schaefer.) Smith was also promised, or he thought he was promised, assistance to initiate a publishing program for Sensorium, a journal on the visual arts which he had attempted to start in the 1960s, and possibly for his own long-deferred semi-autobiographical “Big Book.” As part of the deal he was to select 200 “master prints” each year, over an extended period of years, for the Center’s collections, and also edit, sort and organize the other materials for their eventual transfer to his archive.

The size of W. Eugene Smith’s oeuvre is hard to comprehend. Gene Smith’s mother once publicly stated that he had made 40,000 images before he was twenty-one, and I later found that statement to be almost believable. And he continued to photograph at a prodigious rate for another thirty-five years after that. For Gene Smith, the finished work of art was not a single photographic print, but a complete photographic essay, which, for him, sometimes extended into hundreds of individual images about that story. He worked as a photojournalist who took hundreds of photographs to create his photographic essay, which he always felt was larger and more complete than it was possible to publish in any magazine of that time, he was never satisfied with any published version of his essays. Thus, whenever he could afford to do so, he printed up as many as five or six sets of 11 x 14 inch prints of the more complete version of the essay that he felt he had created.

When Smith came to Arizona one of his intentions was to sort through the collection of thousands of prints to determine which were, in his opinion, “master prints” representing the best of his vision, ideation, and technical skills. By agreement the Center of Creative Photography would then purchase a few hundred of these “master prints” each year until they had collected a complete set of “master prints” of his work. (Smith had estimated that there ultimately would be roughly several thousand prints in this collection, and, although at the time no one thought that the number would be that high, in fact his estimate was correct.) By the terms of the same agreement with the Center, Smith’s negatives, contact sheets, examples of his “work prints” and “study prints”, his book dummies and magazine layouts, his tear-sheets, his papers, his personal and business files, his memorabilia, books, magazines, records and audiotapes would all go into the “W. Eugene Smith Archives” as he released them, or at his death. So, originally, the terms “master print,” “study print,” “work print” were simply technical definitions which allowed the Center to handle the large collections of archival materials it possessed in an expeditious manner.

Unfortunately Gene Smith had a near-fatal stroke soon after arriving in Arizona, a stroke so bad that most people thought he would never walk or talk again. Yet within a year, although severely incapacitated, he was walking and talking and driving himself to meet those obligations he felt he had to the University of Arizona: planning and teaching classes, overseeing the construction of a darkroom, putting together a “Faculty Exhibit” the university had innocently asked from him, planning the revival of his magazine Sensorium, thinking about finishing and publishing his semiautobiographical Big Book, and sorting through the dozens of cartons containing his prints jumbled together with everything else he owned.

The newly-founded Center for Creative Photography was then located in a former bank building, complete with its own vault, located on a commercial street which dead-ended at the west side of the main University of Arizona campus. One portion of Smith’s materials were being stored on campus in a nearby building, which is now the elegant Arizona State Museum (North). (See photo on-line, if you care.), but which at that time was apparently awaiting renovation for the School of Anthropology, and which was mostly being used to store thousands of bags of dirt filled with the shattered fragments of pots which were locked behind wire cages in an otherwise seemingly unused building. This was a large building with a basketball court in the center front of the building, with several large open work spaces located behind the court, then all the shelves of carefully ordered bags of dirt, behind the locked cages. The front area of this building had been sectioned off to hold Smith’s materials and I never saw anyone else in the building either in the daytime or at night during the couple of years I worked there sorting through the materials. When I arrived the basketball court area was literally covered with dozens of cardboard boxes piled to a waist-high level, with narrow pathways winding between them. These boxes were filled with a random assortment of Smith’s smaller photographs, negatives, equipment, tools, slides, pots and pans and the like. None of these boxes were identified in any way, nor were they in any order. I found Gene Smith wandering around the basketball court, straining to open random boxes in his search for his teaching slides which he wanted to use for the class “Photography Made Difficult” he was scheduled to give when school started in the Fall. The near-fatal stroke Smith had suffered soon after arriving in Tucson the year before, and from which he was not fully recovered, had made even this task difficult for him. Smith was a badly-damaged man, suffering from the consequences of a terrible, almost fatal stroke from which most people had thought he would not recover, and living in the unfinished aftermath of what must have been one of the most chaotic moves ever attempted by any individual. He was fifty-nine years old but looked like he was eighty.

Portrait of Gene Smith, 1978, Copyright by Day Williams. Day Williams was a MFA student at the university who had been designated Smith’s assistant.

Gene Smith had a cane to help him walk and a straw cowboy hat, which was all the protection he took against the brutal sun and the 100 degree plus temperatures of summertime Arizona. He could not drive a car anymore, and there really wasn’t much public transportation or much of any other familiar lifestyle options available to this former New York City dweller. His palate, damaged from his World War II wounding, the physical damage from the beating he took in Minamata Japan, the near-fatal stroke had left him almost voiceless and groping for words that he once knew well – and yet he was indomitable, walking around the campus with a Nikon camera around his neck with a plastic milk bottle-top as a lens cover, groping through tons of stuff to put together his initial lectures, sorting through his thousands of photographs to supply the “Master Prints” owed to the Center as he selected other groups of prints to go to his other dependents, while also planning his first faculty exhibition at the University, setting up a darkroom and hoping to start his long-planned and long-deferred creative photography magazine and revive his dormant “Big Book Project.” He had understood that these projects would be supported by the University and felt responsible that his stroke and subsequent illness had kept him from initiating them at once and fearful that if he lost control of the situation he would lose this opportunity to complete these long-deferred projects. His body was that of a frail old man, but his will was prodigious, just stunning. I soon found myself in awe of this cranky, difficult, and amazing man who had engendered so many legends during his lifetime. I began to try to help him find his slides for the lectures and other things he needed, and even built him a bed/cot frame in the auditorium so that he could lie down and rest during the heat of the day. I generally tried to be as helpful as possible, as I attempted to develop an overview of where and what all this stuff was.

The second body of Smith’s materials was stored about ten miles away from the campus in one building of an abandoned public school near the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, which was located south of the city proper. This military base was one stop on a training route for military jet fighter pilots flying from base to base situated around the country; and during the winter months one or (more often) a pair of jet fighters would be landing there every hour or so, all day long.

Jet fighters landing at sunset, Tucson, Az.” Copyright by Harold Jones. Harold Jones was the first Director of the Center for Creative Photography, then he became the Chairman of the Photography Section of the Fine Arts Department at the University of Arizona.

These fighters approached the base from the north and their glide path, as they slowed to almost stalling speeds to land these planes, was over the city. The pair of fighters drifting down over the city became a familiar part of everyday life in Tucson. I’ve been told by Robert Heinecken, an ex-Marine Corps fighter pilot, that just flying jet fighters was automatically a dangerous activity as the jets were intrinsically unstable, and that if they lost power they had the aerodynamics of a brick. There had been several accidents in Tucson over the years. (In fact, I was working in the Center one day when I heard a loud boom, and running outside, saw a huge column of black smoke. A fighter jet had flamed out while landing and the pilot had, at great personal risk, guided the plane into a street in the middle of the city, barely managing to miss a nearby school, before ejecting from the plane at far too low an altitude.) Apparently this sort of thing had happened at least once before, with a plane crashing in the playground of a grade-school complex located near the airbase’s landing path. At that time the southern edge of Tucson was still a few miles away from the air force base and some clever and forward-thinking town manager had built a fine new modern grade school for the expanding city on that open land. Which plan worked well until a fighter jet suddenly landed in the playground swings. So the pupils were moved somewhere else and the buildings closed. The State then turned that small campus of several one-story brick buildings into a locked, fenced-in storage facility, and rented or loaned some of these spaces to the University. The Center had grabbed some space in this otherwise empty facility when the second truckload of Smith’s materials showed up.

Actually, I remember rather vividly the day on one of my visits to the otherwise unpeopled site, when I stood there unlocking the gated fence to this facility and watching two Marine Corps jets in the final stages of their landing, flying much too low and much too slow to do any maneuvering, then seeing a piper cub plane meandering directly toward them from the southwest. I calculated that the three planes would come together about forty feet directly over my head sometime within the next three or four minutes, and so I just stood there calmly waiting to die; until some frantic radio operator got through to the piper cub and he jerked away about three hundred feet short of the collision. Just another near-miss, probably not even officially reported.

The storage space rented by the Center had once been a school-band practice room, with a semi-circular floor of stepped levels where the students sat and played, and with a smaller lockable room located inside the larger room. Dozens of large boxes filled with Smith’s huge collection of records, audiotapes, books and magazines were haphazardly piled up in this space; in some instances, stacked in piles higher than my head. These things may have been in the second truckload that had been put together after the weight-station stop. Also, the large retrospective exhibition of hundreds of framed prints that Smith himself had organized for the Jewish Museum, and which was then sent to tour Japan, then returned to the US in their wooden crates were placed there. This last was significant, because in the confusions of moving and his first stroke Smith had never been told or he had forgotten that this location existed, and it was only during a casual conversation with him one day that I realized that for months he had thought that all these materials had been lost during the move. I immediately checked out a pick-up truck from the university and drove him down there and at least relieved him of that worry.

The third body of materials were all the potential “master print” photographs. I did not see them at first, as Smith, with his long-held and possibly justified paranoia about all individuals in authority, had had an argument with the Center’s Director, and had removed them all from the bank vault to his rented ranch-style house in the outskirts of the city; where he was sorting them to decide which were to go to the Center and which were to go to his family and others. During his entire lifetime, when Smith was flush with money or resources and time he printed multiple copies of his favorite photographs, usually to an average size of 10” x 13” inches, and then mounted them on 16” x 20” boards. He did this for some of his early Black Star, pre-LIFE work, for several exhibitions of the World War II photographs, for many, if not all, of his LIFE essays, and, less completely, for work he accomplished after his career at LIFE. In some cases, as in the Pittsburg essay, he made at least six complete mounted sets, each consisting of at least 300 separate prints. However, there were times when he could not afford to do this with his work, and his essays in Haiti and Japan and later were not so completely documented. Nevertheless there were literally thousands of mounted prints or prints approximately 10” x 13” or better that Smith was sorting through in his house at the time of his death.

Smith had a second, fatal, stroke two or three months after I came to Arizona, while searching in the heat for some of his cats that had escaped from the house. After he died I checked out a 16 ft. open-bed stake truck from the university, gathered several students together, and we went over to his house and removed all the photographic prints. Smith had been renting a typical one-level ranch-style house, with a connected living-dining room, a bedroom, kitchen, bath, and with the attached open-sided carport that was standard for that area. He had furnished the house minimally with a bed, a couple of chairs, and a food processor for the smoothies, (Which, because of his damaged mouth, were all he could eat.) and with very little else. The story of the many cats that got so out of control and which had so damaged the rugs and drapes of the place that Smith was being evicted by his landlady is already known, but I will state that the entire place was a scene of even more chaos than that found at the other locations. The entire floor and almost every other horizontal surface of the house, except for the bathroom which was covered in cat feces, was crowded with dozens of one or two-foot high piles of photographs, with narrow paths winding through them. There was even a foot-high stack of photographs sitting between the burners of the gas stove, over the (fortunately) covered pilot light. It seems, from the arrangement of these piles of photographs, that Smith was attempting to make groups of prints to fit different purposes, or to go to different individuals. But there was no apparent system or order to the groups, other than Smith’s possible intentions, and any information or understanding of his intended purpose for these piles died with Smith’s death. After the students and I emptied the house and filled the back of the stake-bed truck with dozens of carrying cases of the photographs and as I was just about to drive away, I thought to check in the little closet-like utility tool-room located in one corner of the open-sided carport attached to the house, where I found several hundred more photographs piled up inside this barely weatherproof cubbyhole.

The previous agreement was abruptly terminated by his death, and suddenly the Center had to restructure its arrangement for the Smith archive. Smith had made a will, and its instructions came into play. By the terms of the will, the “master prints” made by Smith were to be divided among the Center (which would buy them all at once from the Estate, instead of over many years as had been the previous plan.), the Estate of W. Eugene Smith, (Which consisted of his first wife and their three children. John Morris was the Executor of the Estate and the person representing the Estate that I dealt with most often during this time, although I also met Pat Smith and his wife Phillis several times.), Aileen Smith, (His second wife.) and Sherri Surris, (The woman who had come to Arizona with him.)

Aileen Smith was to receive 200 “master prints,” and she had the absolute right of first selection from the prints. In theory she could have taken every available “Walk to Paradise Garden,” or all the copies of any other photograph she fancied, but she gave over the right of first selection to the Center, and when she chose her prints, she selected only one copy of each image. (I should mention here that a fourth group of prints also existed, kept separate from all the other prints throughout this entire process, which consisted of the photographs from the “Minamata essay” on industrial pollution which Eugene Smith and Aileen Smith had worked on together in Japan. Again, by the will, that body of work was owned by Aileen Smith and although stored at the Center, those materials were from the beginning handled separately from the main body of Smith’s earlier work.)

Sherri Surris was then to select her choice of 200 master prints.

The Estate of W. Eugene Smith was to receive all remaining “Master Prints,” as well as the cash payment from the Center for those which it had selected and purchased.

Everything else left in Arizona: the negatives, contact sheets, work prints, papers, the books and magazines and record collections, everything that was not designated a “master print,” would automatically go to the Center as part of the “study print” or “work print” collection in the Smith Archive.

After Smith’s death I collected and dispersed the cameras, tools, and other personal possessions as directed to Smith’s heirs and acquaintances. But my primary task was to bring some coherent order to the entire collection, then attempt to identify and bring all the images in the same essays together, then bring all copies of a specific image together so that the provisions of the will could then be carried out. So I began the task of locating, identifying, and sorting the various photographs while also sorting out and organizing all of the other random materials. For example, I mentioned that Smith had been using a milk-bottle cap as a lens hood on his Nikon camera when I first met him. After a year of winnowing through everything I had filled up a 16” x 16” x 20” box completely full of dozens of lens caps for many different types of cameras, some of them long obsolete – but none, unfortunately, for a Nikon.

More importantly, I had located and sorted all the potential “master print” photographs into some order. It was not easy, as there never was a complete or even adequate record of any part of the collection. And while Smith was one of the most famous photographers to the general public and the broad outlines of his career were well-known, there was no accurate chronology of his career in print, especially after his period at LIFE magazine. There was no real scholarly monograph on Smith. Furthermore, to most people he was known for perhaps a score of images which had been republished again and again over the years; as this was the practice of the journals and photographic history books at the time. That left thousands of photographs in this collection which were undated and unidentified; therefor it became necessary for me to attempt to identify the prints from Smith’s own unorganized and incomplete personal files and to embark on a detailed bibliographic search to attempt to create a more complete chronology of his career and of his work. Thus, almost by default, I became a sort of Smith scholar, tracing and identifying which prints belonged in which essays and thus tracking the development of his photographic vision and of his career.

It took almost a year, often working sixteen-hour stretches, to sort everything into the groups that could be used to identify the master prints and bring them into an order where they could be selected by the various parties designated by Gene Smith’s will. (My fiancé was in Boston, I felt that hanging out in a bar drinking beer and playing pool, which was the local dominant leisure activity, was boring, and the materials I was sorting through were fascinating; and so I was free and open to the idea of working very long hours.)

A late evening, after a rainstorm, in the Smith Collection sorting area in the Anthropology building. Photographer unknown.

“6 A. M., Sunday Morning, Center for Creative Photography,” copyright by Day Williams. Normally I did not sort prints on the floor, but the Pittsburgh essay had so many prints in it that I needed the space, so I waited for the Center to close on Saturday evening, then I brought those prints over from the Anthropology building and began to sort out the individual images. I worked all night and was just finishing up when Day Williams, who had been photographing around Tucson that night saw the lights on in the building and came over to investigate. I let him in, and he made this photograph. Then I packed the prints up again and took them back to the workspace in the Anthropology building.

At this point I was employed by the Center but was necessarily also working pro bono for all the other beneficiaries of the will as well; as no one could receive their portion until everything was sorted and brought into order. There was a degree of pressure from everyone to resolve all this as soon as possible, as some of Smith’s children needed money rather urgently and everyone involved wanted to get through the process as soon as possible. With Smith gone, everyone involved agreed that the task of designating what constituted a “master-print” should fall upon the Director of the Center James Enyart. As the only guideline that could be inferred from Smith’s actions was that he had been sorting through the dry-mounted prints on the 16” x 20” boards when he was still alive; that size of photograph was taken as the first guideline to designate a master print. This meant that the seven or eight thousand prints of 5” x 7” or similar size were designated “study prints” and would automatically go into the Center’s collections. Some of these prints were lovely, but it had to be inferred that, at least for everything up to and including his Pittsburgh essay, Smith had already during his lifetime selected and printed up and maintained, (In spite of the chaotic order.) multiple copies of those images he felt strongly about. This “documenting” of his own work was far less complete after Pittsburgh, but he still had hundreds of larger prints for his major bodies of later work. So there were still literally thousands of the larger prints to deal with. My sorting process was to bring all copies of the same image printed up to about 10” x 13” or larger together into a single pile. At times Smith had placed a negative in his enlarger and then printed a half-stop at a time up and down from what would become the ideal print, so in some cases there could be a pile of twenty-odd prints of the same image, of varying quality. Five or six or more of the prints in this pile would be of sufficient quality that they could be designated “master prints”, the remainder became “study prints” or “work prints” and would automatically become part of the Center’s collections. At other times there might be only one or two prints from an image that was in Smith’s possession at his death.

After everything was sorted, the Director and I went through the photographs together, essay by essay, print by print, and he would, with me providing any information if needed, select the “best” print for the Center, then determine how many of the other prints were good enough to be labeled “master prints.” I don’t remember the exact number now, but the Center selected somewhere in the range of 3000 individual “master prints” to purchase from the Estate, which still left thousands of prints for the others to select from.

Then Aileen Smith flew into Tucson and she and I went through the prints as she selected her 200 choices. My role was to present the prints to be viewed in a coherent order, record potential selections, answer any questions about their history that I might have found out during the year, and just be helpful in general. This process took about a week or two of concentrated work, talking about the prints, and recording the selections.

Then Sherrie Surris came back to town and took her turn, selecting her 200 prints.

At this point, something surprising and quite wonderful happened. All this organizing of the materials took more than a year of intense, often sixteen-hour days, of work by me – work that I suppose could have been considered beyond my obligations to the letter of my job description. Apparently there had been some discussion among the members of the estate with Aileen and Sherrie about giving me some prints for all the help I had been giving to them. I don’t know who first brought up the idea, and each handled the matter differently, but Sherrie was the first to give me a print from her selection. Sherrie had selected the specific print without my knowing her intentions, and then had to petition the others to allow her to choose it, because the particular image from the Nurse-Midwife essay was one of only two master prints of that image. The Center had the first print, and other beneficiaries had priority of choice over Surris for the second print. But everyone agreed to defer their right in this case and Surris was able to select that print and then give it to me. I had not expected this to happen and I was completely surprised, and further surprised that Surris had picked up from our general conversations that I loved this portrait of Maude Callens so much.

Gene Smith had indicated to me that the “Nurse Midwife” essay was one of his favorites. Maude Callens had spent her adult life daily facing and overcoming extraordinary obstacles and issues while delivering medical assistance and aid to the poorest residents of the rural, racist, segregated South. Smith had worked very hard to craft a photographic essay which he thought could stand up to the quality of the character that he had found in Maude Callens. And he was proud that his LIFE story had unleased a flood of financial support from readers which enabled the construction of a new, modern medical clinic for Maude. I, too, was moved by this woman, and by Smith’s beautiful, compassionate and moving photographs of her.

Maude Callen training another nurse midwife assisting a birth. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. “Nurse Midwife. Maude Callen Eases Pain of Birth, Life and Death.” LIFE 31:23 (Dec. 3, 1851): 134-145.

The Estate and Aileen had each also decided to give me a print for helping them during this long process. Their conversation or decision had not been revealed to me and each gift happened separately. But both the Estate and Aileen at some point during these procedures informed me to select any print I wanted from the available collection.
Suddenly I had become the possible owner of a small collection, however tiny, of the work of an artist that I loved. Presented with this situation, my wonderful problem then became a curatorial issue. It constituted a tough decision that museum curators frequently have to face. Which one or two images does one select from the body of work of any artist to represent that artist’s work? I was not selecting to balance a collection as a curator must often do; nevertheless, some factors had to come into play as I thought about the issues. First, I was not interested in turning the photograph into cash. For me these were treasured items that I would hope to keep in my home and on my walls as long as I could do so. Thus I didn’t necessarily want a “Walk to Paradise Garden’ or a “Spanish Spinner” or anything with an established market value. (If you don’t already know this, it is a dirty secret that in the commercial world certain photographs by an artist are worth more than others. They are not necessarily even the best ones by that artist, but images that by some accident or other, have become established in the marketplace.) For example, at a later stage of this entire process, when I was showing the Estate prints to one of several art-dealers who had come to Tucson to evaluate the collection for a potential offer to purchase; this individual was rather crassly muttering aloud, “…$1000, $1000, $1000, $3000, $1000, $1000….” as we flipped through the prints. Curious, I asked him why he estimated the one so much more than the others. “It was on the cover of the Aperture monograph…” he replied. I told him that I knew for a fact that the publisher had selected that print for the cover and printed it in spite of Smith’s angry insistence that he wanted a different image. “Doesn’t matter…” was the reply. In fact, several of the prints I selected were not among the prints published in Smith’s essays.

Another of Smith’s major essays that had struck a deep emotional response from me was the “Spanish Village.” When John Morris, the Smith Estate executor, and I were going through the prints together, for some reason I went into a long, involved, and excited commentary on this print. Later he offered it to me and I accepted it. I selected this print rather than some more famous images because I felt that Smith had summed up the lingering weight of Spain’s feudal history, with its connections to the land and its rigid social hierarchies in one superb image, and that it also encapsulated the dominant idea that Gene Smith had wanted to convey in his essay about the impacts of the past upon present-day Spain. The print was never published previously because Smith made it as he was driving around Spain to familiarize himself with his subject, as was his practice, and while it is an iconic image of the theme he eventually developed for his essay, it was not near the actual village that he finally chose to photograph.

Harvesting grain, copyright by W. Eugene Smith. “Spanish Village. It Lives in Ancient Poverty and Faith.” LIFE 30:15 (Apr. 9, 1951): 120-129.

For Aileen’s gift I selected a photograph from Schweitzer’s hospital in Africa. Gene Smith had said that the essay never reached publication in anything like its complete form, and as I had had the unique privilege of locating, reassembling, and studying the scores of photographs that Smith had made into his version of the essay, I felt that Smith had indeed reached a creative high point in his art while working on this essay. The work is subtle, humane, passionate, and compellingly beautiful, and, in my opinion, a defining masterwork of the humanistic photographic essay, a genre which briefly held a dominant position in the leading edge of creative photographic practice after World War II. For me, Schweitzer’s Africa held a key position in both Smith’s work and in the history of the medium.


Nurse with flowers, patient’s funeral in Africa, copyright by W. Eugene Smith. “A Man of Mercy. Africa’s misery turns saintly Albert Schweitzer into a driving taskmaster.” LIFE 37:20 (Nov. 15, 1854): 161-172.

After the Center for Creative Photography, Aileen Smith and Sherrie Surris had made their selections, as mandated by the will, the remainder of the Master Prints then belonged to the Estate, but they were continued to be held at the Center for practical and administrative reasons. The beneficiaries of the estate had each selected a handful of favorite photos, but the bulk of the collection, which still consisted of thousands of master prints, was then offered for sale as a unit to a few dealers. At this time photography was just beginning to have a serious market value, with auction houses and a few dealers specializing in the medium. The Estate wanted to sell the entire collection of Estate prints at once, rather than selling it off piecemeal. Over the next few months several dealers came to Tucson to look through the collection to be prepared to make an offer. As part of the cooperation between the CCP and the Estate, I would show the prints to these dealers whenever one would show up. Some dealers would show up and just leaf through everything rapidly and then leave. A few spent more time and energy looking at the prints.

The dealer who actually purchased the collection from the Estate was Ken Heyman. Heyman was himself a known photojournalist who had had essays published in LIFE and had a book or two illustrated with his photographs of children, and who simply loved Gene Smith’s work. I was told that he had “family money,” which owned some of the largest copper mines in Arizona. Heyman bought the collection for what was reported to be the first million-dollar deal in photography, and then he opened a very elegant photography sales gallery called PHOTOGRAPH at 724 Fifth Ave., in New York to sell them. I had spent several weeks going through the collections with him and his assistant. Somehow hearing that the others had given me some prints for my help, he asked me to choose a print for my time and help and he said that he would mail it back to me after the collection was inventoried in New York. I selected another photograph from the essay on Schweitzer, simply because I loved the image. Ken did in fact send the print as well as Suris’s gift, (Which he had held for some obscure administrative reason.) to me several months later, as he promised.

Leper in Sun Helmet, copyright by W. Eugene Smith. “A Man of Mercy. Africa’s misery turns saintly Albert Schweitzer into a driving taskmaster.” LIFE 37:20 (Nov. 15, 1854): 161-172.

In terms of building my own little collection, I now had images from three of Smith’s major essays, images which displayed his narrative skills, his compassion, and his sense of the beautiful form. At this point I thought that would be all the photographs that would ever be available to me. But Aileen Smith had another idea. Because she appreciated my efforts with her collection and because she shared my love of Smith’s photographs she separately gave me two prints from the last major photoessay that Smith worked on, the industrial poisoning in Minanmata, Japan. These photos helped lead the fight for justice for the victims, bringing the story to a world-wide audience through exhibitions, articles and a pioneering book on industrial pollution.

Tomoko in Bath. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

Aileen Smith, who had married Gene in Japan to be respectable in the eyes of their conservative Japanese neighbors and colleagues as they were working together on the industrial pollution essay at Minamata; was, by the terms of the will, the sole owner of the photographs from that essay. The Minamata essay prints were also being stored at the CCP and she asked me to sort and organize that collection as well, as she was living in Japan, and had had to fly back and forth several times during this period of time. Aileen had already given me a copy of “Flags of vengeance” and a print of “Tomoko in the bath.” She then offered to pay me to organize her collection after I had finished with the first round of activity; and we agreed that I would take a few hundred dollars in cash and four more prints from the Minamata essay as payment for doing this job for her. So on the weekends over the next few months I sorted and organized that collection for her.

When I came to choose the prints from that essay I was faced with the decision of how to encapsulate the depth and complexity of a major photographic essay consisting of hundreds of photographs with just six images, two of which I already had been given. The work of art for Gene Smith was the sustained photographic essay, not just any individual prints within it, so for the remaining four images I hoped to choose some that conveyed the breadth of the narrative of the Minamata story, as well as being strong prints in themselves.

I selected one of Aileen’s prints and three others by Gene Smith. These photographs were not necessarily the most famous images in that essay, but they do refer to several of the main points of the Minamata narrative of disaster and protest, retribution, and eventual restitution.

There was another consideration as I made these selections. I had noticed just how important the hands and the gestures that people made were to Gene Smith throughout his career. I had already, within the very limited opportunities available, selected several prints that featured this interest. When I chose the Minamata images I thought it important to include an image of the twisted and crippled hands of a mercury-poisoned victim, photographed with such power by Smith; even though it was a poor choice from an economic point of view.

Fishing in Minamata Bay. Copyright by Aileen Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

Fish for lunch. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

Iwazo Funaba, Poison Victim. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

Shinobu Sakamoto, poison victim, Dressing for school. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

Flags of Vengeance, Minamata Protest. Copyright by W. Eugene Smith. Minamata, by W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.

So, in addition to having the wonderful opportunity to meet and work with a great artist and a personal hero, followed by the extraordinary experience of spending several years of studying and working with one of the most remarkable collections of photography created by any artist, and that followed by several years of being able to bring a more complete picture of that work to the general public through several exhibitions and books, I have also had, through the unusual and kind efforts of individuals who I came to admire and respect, the luck to have a small collection of wonderful art hanging on my walls, and which I can always draw great pleasure and joy from any time I look up from this computer.

I later had to turn away from Smith to pursue other projects, and meet other wonderful artists and individuals during a long period of engagement with the multiple histories in photography, but I have always treasured the time that I spent working with this collection and with this artist.

EXHIBITIONS

“W. Eugene Smith: A Memorial Exhibition.” (Nov. 12, 1978 ‑ Jan. 5, 1979) Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ. (74 prints)
A Memorial Exhibition in Honor of W. Eugene Smith. (Nov. 12, 1978 ‑ Jan. 5, 1979). William Johnson. Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ. 1979. 8 pp.”W. Eugene Smith: Early Work.” (Nov. 15 ‑ Dec. 16, 1980) Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ. (110 prints).
W. Eugene Smith: Early Work 1937‑1948 (Nov. 15 ‑ Dec. 16, 1980). William Johnson. Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ. 16 pp.
“W. Eugene Smith: International Fotofestival Malmo, 1983.” Malmo, Sweden (80 prints, traveled throughout Europe)
“Foto presenterar: W. Eugene Smith.” Foto (Stockholm) 45:7/8 (July/Aug. 1983): 51‑66. 30 b & w. [Also issued as a separate offprint, as the exhibition catalog for the Malmo exhibition.]
“W. Eugene Smith Retrospective Exhibition,” (Jan. 22 ‑ Mar. 17, 1984) Barrett House, Poughkeepsie, NY. (89 prints, from the Smith family collection.)
W. Eugene Smith Retrospective Exhibition. (Jan. 22 ‑ Mar. 17, 1984) William Johnson. Barrett House, Poughkeepsie, NY. 16 pp. 1 b & w, 1 illus.

PUBLICATIONS

“W. Eugene Smith: Early Work.” Center for Creative Photography No. 12 (July 1980): 2‑20, plus a 99 plate portfolio. [Plus added section “W. Eugene Smith. A Chronological Bibliography. Section I, 1934‑1951.” 44 pp. (550 references).

“Deleitosa revisited: Unusual welcome given at location of Smith’s Spanish Village essay.” News Photographer 35:13 (Dec. 1980): 20-23. [Photographer Gary Chapman visited Deletosa, received cold welcome. Prompted “Smith expert discusses essay,” by Johnson on p. 21, “Archives spark interest in noted photographer, pp. 21-22,” with Day William’s photo of Johnson sorting Pittsburgh essay on p. 22, “Fellowship awarded,” on p. 22 and “Publication presents early years,” with portrait of cover, on p. 23.]

“Letters to the Editor: When is a copy an original?” Portfolio. The Magazine of the visual arts. 3:3 (May/June 1981): 96. [Discussion of W. Eugene Smith’s photographic practice.]

W. Eugene Smith: A Chronological Bibliography 1934 ‑ 1980. William S. Johnson. (Center for Creative Photography Bibliography Series no. 1) Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, 1981. 165 pp. 1750 plus references. [First issued in two parts: “Part I: 1934‑1952” was included in “W. Eugene Smith: Early Work.” Center for Creative Photography Research Series no. 12 (July 1980) and “Part II: 1952‑1980” was issued as a special supplement to the Research Series no. 13 (Nov. 1981). The two parts were then reissued as no. 1 in the Bibliography Series.]

W. Eugene Smith: Master of the Photographic Essay.
Edited, with commentary, by William S. Johnson. Forward by James L. Enyeart. New York: Aperture, 1981. 224 pp. 1878 b & w. [A modified catalogue raisonné of this artist’s work.]

“Yujin Sumisu: Kamera to tomo ni shakai ni ”taimatso” o kakageta shashinka.” (W. Eugene Smith: A photographer who lit the world with his camera.), pp. 7‑23; “Chronology,” pp. 102‑103; “Bibliography,” pp. 104‑107 in: W. Eugene Smith Exhibition. (Mar. 19 ‑ Mar. 31, 1982) Odakyu Grand Gallery, Tokyo. Pacific Press Service, Tokyo, 1982. 112 pp. 156 b & w, 19 portraits, 11 illus.

W. Eugene Smith. Introduction by William Johnson. (“Photopoche series, 7.” Edited by Robert Delpire.) Paris: Centre National de la Photographie, 1983. viii, 61 plates, 6 pp. 61 b & w.

W. Eugene Smith. Testi di William Johnson. (Series “I grandi fotographie”, edited by Romeo Martinez.) Milan: Gruppo Editoriali Fabbri, 1983. 64 pp. 66 b & w.
“W. Eugene Smith: The Middle Years.” The Archive [“Center for Creative Photography Research Series No. 20”] (July 1984): 4‑18, 54 plate portfolio.

W. Eugene Smith: A Chronological Bibliography. Addendum.
William S. Johnson. Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, 1984. 72 pp.
“Public Statements/Private Views: Shifting the Ground in the 1950s.” on pp. 81‑92 in: Observations: Essays on Documentary Photography. Edited by David Featherstone. [Untitled No. 35] (1984). [Discussion of Robert Frank and W. Eugene Smith.]

Preliminary research, conception, and layout for Let Truth Be the Prejudice. W. Eugene Smith: His Life and Photographs. With an illustrated biography by Ben Maddow and an afterword by John G. Morris. New York: Aperture, 1985. 240 pp. 250 b & w.

“Focus on America: Portraits of Pittsburgh: The Vision of W. Eugene Smith.” Text by William S. Johnson. USA Today 114:2490 (Mar. 1986): 36‑43. 9 b & w.

Quoted briefly in: “Upfront Images: 150 Years of Photography. Of One Man’s Work. In a lifetime of photos, Eugene Smith aimed for the viewer’s heart,” by Reed Johnson. Times-Union. (Rochester, NY) (Friday, August 25, 1989): C1. 6 b & w.

Primary historical consultant, coordinator of the team making the hundreds of copy prints of Smith’s photographs, and one of the “experts” interviewed in the documentary film, W. Eugene Smith: Photography Made Difficult, produced by Kirk Morris and directed by Gene Laslo. With Peter Reigert as W. Eugene Smith. [Aired in the “American Masters Series” on Public Broadcasting Stations on September 25, 1989 and afterwards. Later released by Kultur DVD (no. D4543), running time 87 minutes.]

“W. Eugene Smith,” by William S. Johnson on pp. 172 –177 in: Original Sources: Art and Archives at the Center for Creative Photography, edited by Amy Rule and Nancy Solomon. Research assistance by Leon Zimlich. Tucson, AZ: Center for Creative Photography, The University of Arizona, 2002. 448 pp.

“Letter to the Editor.” Afterimage 26:3 (Nov./Dec. 2006): 2. [Letter correcting an earlier article’s misconceptions about the role of photojournalists before and during World War II and the misrepresentation of W. Eugene Smith’s activities during that period.]

“Introduction,” on p. 11 in “Volume 3: Essays and Texts.” in: W. Eugene Smith. The Big Book. Foreword by Dr. Katharine Martinez. Introduction by William S. Johnson. Essay by John Berger. Notes by Leslie Squires and Jennifer Jae Gutierrez. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2013. 3 vol., with slipcase.

ENDIT










John Wood

Eagle Pelts – Ithaca, 1984. by John Wood. Silver print with toning. 16 x 20. Copyright by John Wood.

In an act of great generosity, John Wood’s daughter, Carol Wood, contacted us by e-mail in 2022 and offered to give us our choice of any one of John’s photographic prints – apparently simply because we had championed John’s work when he was still alive. As we had sent everything by John that we had previously owned (Including another copy of this print.) to the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas in Austin as part of the “Creative Project” in 2018, this allowed us to replace the print which we had loved. As well as being a beautiful photograph, it was also the image for the first page of the sixteen page original artist’s signature that John, like the other three artist’s in the collaboration, had chosen to make for the Project. Thus the print held an extra meaning for us.

John’s Story by William S. Johnson
The first and most lasting impression one takes from John is his quietness. John is now eighty-four years old, and his once trim, straight posture has been hampered by an illness that leaves him slightly canted. He also wears hearing aids now. And his voice, never loud, is even softer than it was twenty years ago. But John was always quiet and it has always seemed that his quiet came from a thoughtful calm tied to his subtle sense of balance and order. His dress, manner, and conversation still suggest the self-effacing competence that has traditionally characterized the classic New England character, and John does display many of those attributed characteristics. He listens more than he talks. He is reluctant to discuss his personal opinions casually and only when pressed will he express his thoughts on a subject. He is soft-spoken and misses being laconic only through a natural generosity that forces him to share ideas and ideals with others when he is requested to do so. John is firm in his conviction about public issues such as protecting the natural environment and ending nuclear proliferation, and he practices those beliefs within his everyday actions – but he will never tell you how to act or what to believe. In conversation, John uses a language and style of discussion that is open, non-coercive, and reasoned, even to the point of diffidence. When John is forced to talk about himself, he turns the discussion to his work instead. Even there, in an era when artists are often expected and frequently required to explain themselves and their work, John says little to force any specific direction for the reading of his work.

John’s heritage, his family, and portions of his upbringing during the 1930s and 1940s did, in fact, take place in New England. John, the second of three sons, was born in Delhi, California in 1922. But his father had come from an established New England family. The Woods were among the first settlers of Concord, Massachusetts. Members of the family still owned land in and around Concord when John was growing up. John’s father’s family was large, established and reasonably well-off; they held the tradition that the men would go into engineering or the professions. John’s father, however, loved the land and he studied agricultural sciences at the University of Connecticut. After graduating in the early 1920s, he moved his wife and children to California to homestead a ranch there. But the post-war depression in produce markets plus several years of continued drought burned up that dream, and others that followed. After the ranch was lost the family returned to the east just as the Great Depression was settling into the country at large. So John grew up in a family that lived on the unsettled edge of hard times, never quite as desperate as some, but always needing a little help from the more successful and established members of his extended family. While John was growing up, his own family lived with the maternal grandparents in Kinston, North Carolina, then with his uncle near Rochester, New York, then with John’s paternal grandmother in Concord, Massachusetts. The family also lived briefly in other places as well. John attended nine different schools before he reached the eighth grade.

We were all over the place during the Depression. My father tried to manage a number of farms during that time, but it didn’t work so well. We moved to North Carolina
[where John’s mother’s family lived] where I went to school from the first grade to the third grade. Then we moved to Rochester, New York, and then to a raspberry and potato farm in western New York State, then back to North Carolina. At times it got bad…

I moved too much to make many friends. Because it was always a new situation, I retreated, I backed away. I was uncomfortable socially, and that has lasted through to this day. But I felt comfortable when I was out in nature.

My mother was a great reader and she read to me a lot. When I was young I wound up with an entire set of books by Ernest Thompson-Seton, who was an artist/naturalist. They had these nice, small illustrations. They were very important to me; I read them often. Except for my father, nature was more influential on me than any other thing when I was young.

Before we moved to New England we lived in North Carolina for several years. My mother’s father was a civil engineer and her family ran a piano factory in Kinston, a tobacco town. My grandfather spent a lot of time in Africa getting ivory for the piano keys and he had a lot of tales about that. But Kinston was difficult for me… However, after a year, we moved to Swansboro, which was a little fishing village on the coast. I was about eight or nine and Swansboro was a very interesting place. All kinds of things happened to me there that have to do with motion or water. The entire system there was meaningful to me. The fact of the South, the facts of Swansboro itself, a small fishing village with no electricity during the Depression, the experiences that I had there in relation to the water…. We went boating a lot, it was a very rich fishing ground then — it’s depleted now — but at that time it was very good and I became aware for the first time of all the different things that happened — fishing with gill nets for mullet, going out at night with torches to get flounder, reaching down into holes to get rock crabs.  We would go off and do things…it was an adventure.


[The core of this essay has been adapted from Horses, Sea Lions, and Other Creatures: Robert Frank, Dave Heath, Robert Heinecken and John Wood, by Susan E. Cohen and William S. Johnson. Belmont, MA: Joshua Press, 1986, 242 pp., 36 slides. This was a privately printed, limited edition book produced as one part of the artists’ collaboration , observed by Susie Cohen and Bill Johnson. Unless otherwise credited, all quotations from John Wood are drawn from a number of conversations with him by Susie Cohen and Bill Johnson during 1983-1985 during the course of this project. These were supplemented with several additional interviews with John in 1992 and in 2006.]

“For a time Louise [John’s mother] and the three boys, Norman (“Nonny”), John, and Jimmy, lived in Swansboro, North Carolina, near her sister Jenny who operated a small restaurant. Norman [John’s father] stayed up north to find work and irregularly sent down money. In Swansboro, Louise was particularly distressed with the schools and the poor atmosphere available for the boys. John remembers those years as difficult and fraught with tension, yet he loved the seaside landscape and the life of the small fishing village. He has strong visual memories from this home.

[Another source of information and quotes is the “Monograph on the Work of John Wood – Artist and Teacher,” by Laurie Sieverts Snyder, M. F. A. Thesis, Department of Art Media Studies, College of Visual and Performing Arts, Syracuse University, 1987. 69 pp. p. 7.]

There was a church for blacks across the street where we lived. Sometimes I would sit (hide) in the bushes behind and listen to the singing. I was nine (?) and the church was in a small fishing village in North Carolina. No black person was allowed in the village after sunset. Maybe they were more white in God’s sun and day. There was a bridge that crossed the Neuse River and connected it to a small sand island. At rip tide the water under the bridge was almost violent. I would walk across on the railing. Often we crossed to the sand island for a picnic. My first look at death was on that island. I found a man in the water. He had been dead for a long time and was black. His skin had changed to white in many places. I sat and looked fro a long time and I think I felt compassion for the first time. I know I was sad for another human being. I ran back across the bridge in some terror and told the man at the drug store. Later I found out that a black man had been murdered. Nothing was ever done about it. I didn’t understand. I never talked to my mother about that. My father was in the north trying to find work. (1932, maybe) My aunt ran a restaurant in town. My uncle was no help – he was usually drunk and often violent and I was afraid of him. One day he brought a black bear cub into the restaurant. I never found out what happened to the mother and I don’t know what finally happened to the cub. I did notice that he was very gentle with the cub. There was a lot of violence in that town smoothed and hidden by kindness. I just began to think about this.

[LSS “Monograph.” Unpublished letter, JW to LSS, postmarked 5 March 1985. pp. 7-8.]

This passage reveals many aspects of John Wood’s personality. In retrospect, this memory marks the first self-conscious moment when John felt compassion for another human being outside of the family constellation. This compassion or caring remains an integral element in John’s personality: it is present in his art work, in his relationship to his friends and students, and his concern for people in distress. The awareness that nothing was done to find the cause of death and the murderer was a lesson about the racial inequalities in that North Carolina town, and even as a small boy he realized this. Another important element in John’s childhood was his pleasure in the outdoors. Exploring alone was exhilarating and educational. To keep his mother from excessive worry about his safety, (Like tightrope walking the bridge rail across the riptide channel to the island) John developed the habit of not telling her what he did. Keeping his actions and thoughts to himself allowed John to develop independence and confidence in his own abilities to explore and observe. He found pleasure in his own company and he liked to look “for a long time.” He still does. He looks leisurely at everything: the landscape, work in museums, student’s work, his own work….”

[LSS “Monograph.” pp. 7-9.]

“The issues of subdued violence comes up frequently in John Wood’s memories….There were silent tensions between Louise and Norman. John remembers no angry conversations, but he does remember his father’s silences and absences and his mother’s complaints and worries. The anxieties in the home were never discussed with the boys – yet the intensity of feelings were present, covered over by “kindness” and silence. The notion that unpleasantness might not exist if you did not talk about it was strongly present in John’s childhood and replays itself over and over again. Compassion, careful looking, keeping your feelings to yourself, and enjoying the environment were enduring qualities developed by John in his childhood.”

[LSS “Monograph.” p. 9.]

“The marriage [of Louise Cheney Wood] to Norman Wood was not happy. After all the uprootings and insecurities, and finally moving to Concord to live with her domineering mother-in-law, she decided to divorce Norman in 1942. At the time of the divorce, John was an adolescent and doesn’t remember a great deal of fighting or major family discussions centered around the divorce. After the divorce, Louise had several jobs…”

[LSS “Monograph.” p. 11.]

John spent his high school years in Concord. Concord was a town that rode out the Depression better than many other parts of the country and John’s acquaintances and friends in school always seemed to have more money than he did. The Woods were a large, close family, and they provided John with much companionship, but he always felt that he was the poor relation, the son of the son who had not followed the correct direction or who had had the bad luck.

It was a nice family. My grandparents had four boys and one daughter. There were lots of cousins around and there were always family activities going on. I remember everyone always getting together. And I had a cousin, Hank Coolidge, who was wonderful. He took all us kids skiing and mountain climbing, and he was a wonderful storyteller. He was the first adult outside of my parents that I had any real attachment to.

I was brought up in a good New England family where you always did something artistic – but the Lord help you if you did it seriously.  My mother and my father’s brother were accomplished musicians. My mother’s family manufactured pianos at one point. On my father’s side, my grandfather was a wonderful family photographer. He documented all the family occasions, at any family gathering the old folding Kodak would come out and he would make portraits of all the kids. My aunt was a painter and a fairly good one, but never really committed to that. She taught Physical Education at the University of Connecticut. My dad became a freelance carpenter and cabinetmaker when the farming didn’t work out, and he worked as a patternmaker at the Navy shipyards in Chelsea. He made beautiful little watercolors all his life. I was aware of artists from a very early age. My great uncle was Thomas Hill, and a number of his paintings were in my grandmother’s living room.

Thomas Hill was an accomplished and successful painter working at the end of the 19th century. His best-known painting, “The Last Spike” (1881), commemorating the building of the first transcontinental railroad in 1869, hung in the rotunda of the California State Capitol for many years. John has a very fine painting of Yosemite Valley that Thomas Hill painted as a wedding present for John’s grandmother.

I took my first drawing class at the Memorial Art Gallery in Rochester. It was a Saturday morning class and I must have been in the third or fourth grade. I don’t remember any of the paintings at the museum, but I do remember that there was a photo show there and that I kept a catalog of that show for years.

I made watercolors when I was growing up; at some point I even took a watercolor course and a “How-to-Draw” course one summer down on Cape Anne. I liked to draw and I also made photographs all through high school.

I knew that there was such a thing as an artist but I didn’t connect that with me. I didn’t have any sense that it was possible to be an artist. It was possible to make watercolors and things like that but I don’t think I really knew what an artist was until later.

My mother and father were very sympathetic for creative work and they were supportive from the very beginning. But it was harder with the rest of the family. My uncles and my grandmother were demanding and disciplined people; they expected you to amount to something. I always got the feeling that it was necessary to do something important in the world, and art didn’t count. It was a kind of Puritanism… All my uncles were engineers. My father and one uncle tried to get out from under that, but they didn’t quite make it. They spent their energies getting out, and they didn’t have enough left to do anything else…. So there was a lot of art in the family but somehow I felt that it wasn’t open to me.

When I graduated from high school there was a great need for industrial draftsmen, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology was offering a program to train high school graduates in drafting. It was a competitive program, but I was accepted into it. It was a short, intensive course that combined mechanical drawing, calculus, and physics. I went through that course, became a draftsman, and then worked at the Raytheon Company in Waltham for a while, then drafting for Sturgis Architects in Boston.

In 1941, I volunteered for the Air Force. I was nineteen, and for a normal kid growing up in our society at that time that was the only thing to do and that’s what I did.

John was commissioned as an officer and trained as a bomber pilot in the Air Force. His first assignment was to the Training Command, where his task was to verify that the new pilots and bombardiers knew their jobs.

“The Air Force gave him an opportunity to explore new areas of the United States: he was trained in California, Arizona, Texas, then stationed in Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, Nebraska. He learned to fly a variety of large and small planes, and he spent most of his four years teaching pilots to fly…. He never saw active [combat] duty – a situation that was both a relief and a disappointment. He was an excellent trainer and he started to develop attitudes towards teaching that would prove helpful ten years later when he started teaching art. A hallmark of John’s teaching style is an ability to allow a student to find his way, to make mistakes and find his own solution. Wood explained to me that this was a lesson he learned repeatedly in the Air Force; the student pilot can only learn to fly by flying, so the flight instructor has to let go, allow the trainee to fly, even to make mistakes, and to solve them.”

[LSS “Monograph.” p. 12.]

Later he trained to fly a B-17 bomber for combat, but the war in Europe ended before he was assigned overseas. He then was reassigned to fly the B-29 bomber, but before he finished training for that aircraft, the war with Japan ended. His last task in the Air Force was ferrying B-29’s down to Texas for mothballing. He was demobilized at Lowrey Field in Denver, Colorado in 1945.

 I loved to fly; I was intrigued by the whole business, the entire kinetics of flying is like skiing… The Air Force wasn’t a wasted time for me because of the special and kinetic characteristics of flying; the ways that you perceive perspective, the way that things line up from the air, and the importance of these things all influenced me a great deal. For a long time I was unaware of those influences, but I know now that they were very important for me. My experiences determined a lot of the ways that I go about organizing things. The idea of a static one point perspective had always been uncomfortable for me and my experiences while flying let me escape from that concept a little bit.

I separated from the Air Force in 1945 in Denver. I spent the first winter just bumming around, skiing and such, and then I enrolled in the University of Colorado on the G.I. Bill.

John studied architectural engineering at the University of Colorado, seeking a discipline that would satisfy his own interests and still be viewed as practical and acceptable by his family. But he soon began to feel that the technically-oriented program at the university was not for him.

It was totally provincial. A lot was happening in structural architecture and design. Buckminster Fuller, Nervi, Mallart, and others were doing a lot in those fields, but I didn’t hear anything about it at the school. So I didn’t even know about those issues at that time. I came home at Christmastime a year later and I just never went back.

John moved back to Massachusetts where he lived with his mother in Boston. The city offered him personal freedom and cultural nourishment. He started a small commercial photographic studio (Anderson & Wood Photography: Aerial & Commercial) in Concord with his high-school friend, Bill Anderson, who had been a Marine Corps fighter pilot during the war. Bill and John began their business by flying a Piper Cub around Concord, taking aerial photographs of commercial greenhouse farms “with a Speed Graphic that we stuck out the door.” They then sold their work to the businesses they had photographed. In time they began to do portraiture and other commercial work as well.

I had been taking photos since I was twelve, but Bill and I both took a course on studio portraiture from a photographer named Shaw, I think, on Newbury Street in Boston. He had been a student of William Mortensen and he had all the print retouching techniques that Mortensen was famous for, but his original negatives were clean and well-made and we got a good technical training in lighting and negative making. The idea of Mortensen is a little embarrassing to me but I did keep the idea of reworking prints from that experience. And later, at the Institute of Design, when I got used to cutting up images and fitting them together on the page with typography, these things led into collage techniques in a very natural way.

As John worked over the next few years in his and Anderson’s studio, he gradually developed and fostered an interest in contemporary art and in creative photography.

I wasn’t aware of art photography, just what I’d seen in the magazines, photojournalism and the like. I feel that there was a real lag in my awareness, almost ten years of my life. In a way I consider myself, in terms of contact and influences, to be ten years younger than I am. I wandered around Boston in my spare time taking photographs. I was a street photographer for a time; it seemed necessary for me to do that, but I didn’t know where it was going to lead.

“Whenever he could, John looked at pictures. In 1949 he bought his first Rolliflex twin lens reflex camera for his own pictures and had his own, “very junky” enlarger in his mother’s Boylston Street apartment. In addition to the photography classes [with Shaw] he took drawing and watercolor classes and later he took night classes at Boston University in aesthetics and psychology. His relationship with his mother was very pleasant. He enjoyed the location of her apartment because he could walk to the museums and the Boston Public Library.”

[LSS “Monograph.” p. 14.]

I began to look for connections. I read some magazines like
U.S. Camera and American Photography, and I went over to the Boston Public Library and looked for books. They had an excellent collection of books on photography. That’s where I discovered Edward Weston and then Paul Strand’s portfolio on Mexico.

About 1948 or 1949 I saw an exhibition at The Museum of Modern Art in New York which was the first time I’d ever seen actual [creative] photographs. Some things were happening in creative photography and some people were out there but I didn’t know anything about it. My first contact [with contemporary art] was also through books. I remember very distinctly being in love with Kandinsky’s work, which I knew through the little Skira book. I didn’t have any friends who were artists, and the museums around Boston didn’t show much abstract work then — that movement was just getting started — except the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston which was open at this time. I remember hearing Oskar Kokoschka talk at his exhibit. I even took his portrait and had ideas of photographing other painters.

I was getting tired of the commercial studio and I was really ready for a change when I found Laszlo Moholy-Nagy’s
Vision in Motion in the library one day. I think that you discover people [as influences] once you’ve discovered it in yourself. Moholy-Nagy came to me after I’d already worked some of the ideas out for myself. But Vision in Motion really connected for me, and somehow I learned that Moholy-Nagy had set up the Institute of Design in Chicago.

I married Suzanne Watson in the Spring of 1950, and the idea of my stopping working in the studio became even stronger since the business wasn’t big enough to support both Bill’s family and mine. That summer we drove out to California to visit Zanne’s father. On the way I stopped at I. D., applied, and was accepted into the program.

John was twenty-seven years old. He had amassed considerable practical experience and had had brief contact with a broad range of art forms, but he still had not considered art a valid career. When he enrolled in the program at the Institute of Design in Chicago, he and Suzanne began living in a converted store-front. A colleague of his from that time, Ray Martin, recalls:

John Wood was especially important to those of us whose interests extended beyond commercial design to the fine arts…I was influenced by his experimental approach to art and design. …What made his presence at the school more impressive was the fact that he set up a complete living and working space in [the store front].  He had a photo darkroom, type cases and platen press, proof press, etching press, work tables, etc.  Because of John’s generosity, many students spent time there, talking, working, glad to be part of his creative realm.”

[Quote from LSS “Monograph.” p. 15.]

At I.D. I trained to be a visual designer, I wasn’t training to be an artist. I had practical issues to consider, like how to make a living. Even during the program it didn’t dawn on me that that was a way I could go. But when I got to I. D., I began to meet artists. Harry Callahan was the first person who impressed on me the idea that you could commit yourself to some kind of thing that was called “art.” Several people at I.D. were real artists — Callahan, Siskind, Hugo Weber (a painter), Misch Kohn (a printmaker) — and for the first time I began to get a feeling for what that meant. Even at that point I was choosing between different media; I started in photography but then I went into typography, print making, and design. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do but I was beginning to try to decide.

I knew Harry Callahan, but Aaron [Siskind] got there after I switched away from photography so I never took any classes with him, although I did get to know him. There was a young fellow from Denmark, Keld Helmer Petersen, who had published a book of color photographs — very abstract — who was teaching there, and that was the first color work like that that I had seen. Remember that everything was still isolated in those days, in the early 1950s, a small number of books were out. Maybe if you were really into things in New York City, then you might have known what was really going on, but otherwise it was pretty scattered.

Harry Callahan had his first show at the Art Institute of Chicago the first year that I was there and I think that that was the first photo show that they had there. Frederick Sommer came in for a week to teach and I was impressed by him. Art Sinsabaugh taught there as well, but I had become interested in printmaking by then.

There was a three-semester foundation course that everyone from graduate students to people just out of high school had to take, and a lot of the people were veterans, so it was a pretty lively group. Just because of the group that was there then, we became very interested in printmaking and we set up some presses and all that. That group consisted of Ray Martin, Ivan Chermayeff, Michael Traine, Norman Kantor, Marty Moskov, and others. Len Gittleman was a good friend of mine.
[Len Gittleman was a photographer and filmmaker who taught the still photography courses offered to the undergraduates in the Visual Studies program at Harvard through the 1960s and 1970s.] Len and I made a movie, THE PRESS, about the printing press. It was a nice movie but we had problems clearing copyright on the score that we borrowed from a recording of a work by Stravinsky and we never were able to get it re-scored.

While in his fourth year at school, and still a student, Wood began teaching a course in visual fundamentals at the Institute of Design. John graduated from the Institute in 1954. He had intended to move to San Francisco after graduation, find a job there, then buy a printing press and print his own graphics and books as well as work for other artists. But he was offered a job while still in his last semester at I. D.

In 1954 Charles Harder, the director of the New York State College of Ceramics in Alfred, New York was touring art and design schools in New York and Chicago searching for someone to teach printmaking and typography at Alfred. Alfred University is a small school founded in the 1830s and located in a tiny village in a rural portion of western New York, amid the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains. The school has always had a strong arts program and its New York College of Ceramics was highly regarded. Harder visited the Institute of Design during John’s last semester there, and, on the recommendation of the I. D. faculty, offered the position to John.

“At the time, the Alfred program was narrowly focused on industrial design, “pottery production,” and teaching, although it had continued its original objectives combining scientific, technical, art and practical training.  Charles Harder had become head of the design program in 1944 and, with his beliefs about teaching and education “in hand,” he was searching for a new faculty member.  His search would lead him to New York and to the Chicago’s Institute of Design.  Faculty there recommended John Wood as someone who met the criteria established by Harder.”

Harder’s philosophy and vision is well-documented; a potter would benefit by being taught concepts and skills other than pot-making.  By hiring John Wood and giving him the flexibility to teach what and how he wanted, the program could develop into what it is today.  John Wood brought his experience with foundations from I.D. and his own sensibilities about broadening students’ choices to the program.  He “didn’t want things to be isolated.” (Shefrin, et al.)  The environment of the department nourished an interaction between and among faculty and students that provided the opportunity for creativity and change, invention, and experimentation.

Harder’s belief in the importance to an education program of exposure to high quality media (music, art, design), was the beginning of the change process, but its form and success can be credited (in large part) to John Wood’s philosophy, creativity, adherence to specific values.  Harder had selected Wood on the basis of these traits; the person and the environment were a good match.”

[Wood, Carol. “John Wood…” Unpublished Essay, 1997. 6 pp.]

When I first got to Alfred I was just going to teach one class. It was nice for me to be earning a real salary after so long. I really loved teaching and I still do. I have a great deal of difficulty with the bureaucracy in schools and with the interpersonal politicking that goes on, but I like the teaching. ‘Zanne and I decided to stay for four years and take one class through the school… but, for one reason or another, we’ve been here ever since.

“Changes were often brought about because of Wood’s own personal experimentation and desire for ways to manipulate and move images.  For example, his experience in Chicago had included work at a graphic design company doing big posters.  When he arrived in Alfred, he really wanted to continue that work but had to develop the technology here in order to keep it going.  He describes adapting a photo-silkscreen process in order to combine photography and lithography, and building a complex system for developing movie film.  Through his work and exploration, the crossing of media happened.  (Shefrin, et al.)

The course in visual design was conceptualized and taught as a foundation program–Wood was left to his own devices about what to teach. Again, his quiet commitment to typography and photography led him to provide his own equipment so that the students could explore those media.  He did not serve in an administrative position; from the start he effected change from the classroom. As early as 1955, one year after he arrived, the curriculum was changing to offer a “track” considered fine arts, for the first time, rather than strictly design.”

[CW. “John Wood.” p. 3.]

“When he arrived at Alfred John taught visual design, typography, book design and printmaking. However, for his own work he wanted photographic facilities and this he set up with his own equipment at the college. The students became interested in photography so he started teaching photography on his own time. When he started to have as many students in his photography classes as there were in the ceramics classes, Ted Randall, chairman of the art department, suggested they start a photography program.”

[LSS “Monograph.” p. 18.]

“By 1965 the Department of Design became the Department of Art — “reflecting more accurately its work and activities” (NYSCC Annual Report 1965, Appendix F)  In the period of time between the first mention of fine arts and the structural shift to the Department of Art, Wood’s ideas about visual design permeated the program.  The first team-taught course, however, was almost accidental.  Eric Renner (faculty member during the late Sixties) who taught 3-D studies, and John Wood decided to teach their classes together.  Wood remembers this as an historical event, and also as an exciting, collaborative time period in the history of the school.”

[CW. “John Wood.” p. 3.]

“The BFA Program in Photography “…began in 1970 in response to the need and demand for such a concentration… and by 1977 was offering five courses to about one hundred and sixty students each year…”

[“Video History Project: Resources: Groups: Alfred University.” http://www.experimentaltvcenter.org/history/groups/gtext.php3?id=3. (Aug. 22, 2006).]

There is a thread of tension running through John’s quiet narrative of his early life; a sense of pressures felt and possibilities denied. Alfred must have seemed like an unexpected turn in the road, and possibly something of a haven. Suddenly John had the opportunity to live amidst the type of countryside he loved. At the same time he was permitted –even encouraged- to unleash the suppressed creativity that had always been a part of him.

And John did exactly that. He taught at Alfred with care and commitment for nearly thirty-five years, until his retirement in 1987. Former students of John’s, at all levels of accomplishment and commitment, respond with affection at the mention of his name. In a statement published when she was appointed Dean at the Rhode Island School of Design in 2006, E. Jessie Shefrin began her list of important influences with John Wood’s name.

[“New York State College of Ceramics. College News. Veteran art professor leaves to become dean at Rhode Island School of Design.” http://www.alfred.edu/nyscc/view.cfmemp=2195 (Aug. 22, 2006)]

Shefrin had earlier stated John’s importance to the teaching program and its students at Alfred in a ceremony honoring him at the reopening of the design study studios at the school in 1995.

He came to Alfred in 1955.  He came as an artist, to teach and to learn.  He left in 1987 to continue to teach and to learn.  He is teaching something right now by being here.  He is teaching something about re-turning, about re-making, about re-visioning.  He is teaching about being present.  And don’t look now because he is probably doodling on a napkin that will probably find its way into a book, which we will probably end up buying in a few years for our rare book collection.

And that’s the way things go with John. One thing turns into something else right in front of your eyes and often without words.  So, you have to pay attention.  You have to learn how to listen visually.  You have to learn how to get your own attention, or you might not hear the voice of Black Elk speaking to you about Wounded Knee on December 12, 1890 in one of John’s drawings.  You might not notice the small article in today’s paper on page twelve about the thousands of Rwandans murdered by government forces in a makeshift refugee camp.  You might not stop on your way home to look up and see the woodcock circling above your head about to dive down, telling you it is spring.  You might miss the connections.

And that’s the way things go with John.  They connect.  Sometimes now.  Sometimes then.  Sometimes here.  Sometimes there.  Sometimes circuitously — sometimes so clearly and simply that nothing can be said, and you are left dumbfounded, not knowing how you got here or where you’re going but knowing that something profound has just happened to you.

In recognition of all the small and indestructible gifts that you, John, have given to the many people who are seated before you now and the many people who couldn’t be here, to the students in all the studios in this school working right now, who aren’t here, because they aren’t alumni yet but who somehow feel who you are, because the gifts get passed on.  They get passed on in the tools that get made and used.  In the vessels that hold tusche.  In the lines drawn around the bend, on the top of the hill.  In the light that gets captured in a moment and then gets reprocessed 20 times, 20 different ways.  In the moving images that spur dreams.  In the marks that float off the pages and turn into angles of repose.  In knowing that to get to a place you have never been, you must go by a road you have never taken.

We celebrate the opening of our new studio facilities by naming them not after you, not for you, but in the spirit of you.  And in so doing, we challenge ourselves to create open studios where ideas, energy and conversation can move freely up and down the stairs, around the corners and across the building; to be mindful of the boundaries, the borders and the territories that come with doors that lock; to re-dedicate ourselves to the practice and joy of teaching and its intricate relationship to the living process of making work.

We offer you all our love and all our thanks.”

[CW.”John Wood.” p. 1. Quoting from pp. 4-5 in VITA (alumni publication) School of Art and Design, Alfred University, 1995-1996.]

“When Wood retired in 1988, former students and faculty were invited to write their “testimonials” for presentation to him at the formal retirement dinner.  The response was overwhelming; testimonials were sent in from all parts of the country and from every generation of alumni.  Writings, drawings and photographs were included in the packets; demonstrating the impact John Wood had on their lives.”

[CW. “John Wood.” p. 4.]

Yet in 1984, when the Society for Photographic Education asked John to be the “Honored Speaker” at its annual meeting, John hesitated for several weeks before accepting the honor; for he was neither a member of the SPE, nor was he certain that the honor should come to him.

John had participated in the Invitational Teaching Conference at the George Eastman House held in November 1962 which was one of the seminal meetings leading to the formation of the Society for Photographic Education. And John sat on three of the panels presented during the conference. When asked why he did not join the new organization; John simply shrugged and said, “Those things are difficult for me. I attended once in a while, but I don’t particularly like organizations.” Later, choosing to expand his answer, he continued:” I don’t have an intellectual relationship to photography, I like to read about it, but...” In response to the statement that he made very smart photographs, he said, “Those are two different things.” When pushed a little further, he stated his philosophy of teaching.

I’ve been teaching now
[1984] for thirty-one years and that’s occupied a lot of my energies. The first five years at Alfred I was learning how to teach. I guess I’m a good teacher partly because I listen and I’m also willing to meet the student exactly where he or she is. I don’t impose my philosophy on the student. I try to have them discover their own position. If I would take pride in anything it would be that I feel all too often that some people will go to a person’s work and say why didn’t you do this or that, but I’d much rather go to the work, find out what’s there, see if I can find out whatever the seed is that’s going on, and then let the student find out what that may be.

Also, I was trained at the Institute of Design, which grew out of the Bauhaus philosophy. And their foundation program was very good and exciting and a lot of my ideas came out of that experience. One of the interesting parts of that philosophy was that it is much better to teach a philosophy of tools and materials rather than a specific tool. And I also happen to believe that process is more important than what the final product looks like. I seem to be good at putting together problems that lead people towards that discovery. A good problem for me is where students at any level, no matter what their background, can approach it equally.

And I’m not cynical with the students either.

I manage to teach one or two workshops every summer. I’ve been doing that for about fifteen years now. I’ve taught at Penland in North Carolina, at Haystack, the Parsons School at Lake Placid, New York, and I’ve taught quite a few summers at the Visual Studies Workshop. I like the workshops, particularly if they are short. It’s a different relationship than in the regular school sessions.

In addition to teaching, John has continued to create his own art with a relentlessness that is only partially hidden by his modest manner and his lack of self-promotion. John creates art continuously, moving across the various mediums of drawing, photography, painting, printmaking, and bookmaking in a process that sifts, reorders and extends the ideas, concepts, and processes that are combined within his organic, elegant body of work. The consistency of this long effort was pointed out by Aaron Siskind in a 1978 interview. Aaron stated, in the context of a conversation about an artist’s concerns with and dedication to the creation of his art, “...more recently, …we have a person like John Wood, whose motivations are of the purest – I mean he’s one of the most dedicated human beings you can find in this world.

[“A conversation between Aaron Siskind and Diana Johnson,” Spaces. Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, R.I., 1978, p. 15.]

Although John will freely explain how any specific work that he has created was generated, he usually does not care to discuss any meanings that it might have. He becomes uneasy if either he or someone else starts to interpret any pieces in terms of a specific, thus limiting, critical framework. He is more articulate and at ease when he is discussing his own discoveries and the directions he has chosen to follow to create his art. The free-flowing form of such a discussion, pausing at one point for an embellishment, jumping to another point to add a highlight or some coloration to his discourse, is in itself a most apt delineation of the evolution and dimensions of his creative process.

I’ve been accused of spreading myself thin and I admit to it. My studio is full of the different directions that I travel, which range from purely abstract exploration to image making of one sort or another. I cut through several mediums. I do go through a whole range of things. I’ll do one thing, then that will lead to another, then to another. It’s hard for me to say where things stop. I’ll make a collage which leads to a montage which leads to the next thing and so on…my objects are always going through different transformations.

John will photograph a pile of pebbles he had gathered and placed outside his studio to break the runoff of the rain from his porch roof. He may make a silver print from that negative, then later make a xerox enlargement from that print and use that xerox as a negative to generate a cyanotype contact print, which, in turn, may be collaged into a larger work with other prints or drawings, or combined with handmade paper, or maybe bound into an artist’s book. And the image may appear in a different form or a different configuration in another work the following week, or the following month, or five years later.

I’m continually recycling things; I hate to throw anything away. I’ll recycle images back and forth for a long time until eventually I get embarrassed that a particular image is showing up so often. Then I’ll remove it. When I’m making a piece and I’m in the process of searching for something I need in my studio — a negative or a particular print or whatever — quite often I come across something else. It’s a kind of continual process that goes on. It can get exasperating if I can’t find what I’m looking for, but I don’t object because a lot of my images grow out of that search. It looks chaotic but the process works for me. I’ll start over here at this spot [in my studio] and then on the way over there to pick something up I’ll get stopped by something interesting. I used to fight against that but I don’t anymore. That’s the way I work and it’s where the things that I’m most exited about come from.

John does not claim to have total control over the act of creativity. The idea of process is very much a part of his work. He leaves the work open and the process ongoing to include the viewer as the final link in the creative act.

When I’m putting images together I don’t have a narrative that I’m trying to tell. I locate images randomly and then move them around until I find things that I feel have some relationship to each other. That relationship may be in terms of color, an aspect of geometry, or some sense of how an image works. At some point, if I’m lucky, two or three things will begin to operate: the colors, the formal aspects, or perhaps the shapes. Shape is very strong with me. I like the idea that shapes have a life to themselves which is not a narrative life but some kind of feeling that effects us very strongly. I think these things are universal…


So I play with this material until some kind of connection begins to be made. They certainly are not verbal connections, but some kind of vibrations begin to happen and the pieces begin to echo each other. When I work best things are just flowing out. I trust my subconscious; I think it knows more than my conscious mind does.

The way I work with the doublet collages, for example, it’s like a poetry structure; it’s like Haiku, the form lets you put disconnected things together and the viewer has to connect them for himself. It’s in the connecting that it becomes important.

John was quietly amused when asked if he were religious. He denied any adherence to a particular belief, although he commented that he was impressed by the lifestyle and ideas of Zen Buddhism. Transcendentalism, a philosophy born near 19th century Concord, Massachusetts, with its precepts about the close and quiet observation of nature and the assertion that intuition should dominate empirical experience, also forms the backbone of John’s thought. He has found even more direct influences in people and events closer to his own time.

I started out studying architectural engineering, so I’m very interested in structure. Buckminster Fuller was the first person to make me aware of a different kind of structure that I hadn’t intuited before. He was important to me in the sense that all of his world ideas really hit a chord and so he was a kind of hero for me. I like a lot of the “primary ideas” that he had about things. Fuller was great at distilling things down to one idea. He would start with a little triangle and gradually the whole world would evolve out of that. He preached continually that we have the knowledge to solve our world problems and that we must do so now. He was an optimist. It’s obvious that we have the information; but the work isn’t being done, is it? But Fuller came to I. D. to lecture when I was there. He talked literally for three days straight; the energy was amazing.

The idea of structure informs John’s way of seeing the world. Both his heritage and his training stress systematic thinking and creative solutions to practical problems. At the time he leaves space for the beneficial possibilities of intuition. John feels most comfortable when he senses the presence of a pattern or perceives a congruence within his own art and a system of order within the larger world. He feels best when his work alludes to an interconnectedness within the structures and events of the world. This is apparent in the pleasure John shows when describing the principles behind a model of an icosahedron made by the intersection of three golden rectangles that he built out of card-board and string years ago, which now hangs in a corner of his living room; or at demonstrating an elegant solution to a difficult carpentry problem; or in the little wooden “figures” — balancing tightrope-walking katchina figures, birds, or little fantastic animals he makes as presents for his now grown children — works which display a touch of quiet whimsy and a delicate artisanry hard to match outside of Calder’s Circus.

Much of John’s artwork is set up to demonstrate the rule of some process, or the dominion of a form, or the nature of a structure within the medium, which John then explores or expands through the deft play of his ingenuity. These principles fuel John’s continued interest in the “system drawings” and the folded-paper drawings, as well as his experiments with the multi-framed photograph series.

While John takes pleasure in working with aspects of the materials he uses, which he then can play within and against a continually renewed series of innovative solutions, this is not the sole or even the primary aim of his art. John insists that his works contain combinations of meanings – multiple associations, groupings of visual possibility, personal meaning, and metaphoric potential. In short, he insists that they function as poetry. And, in that context, his continued investigations of the boundaries of rule and the possibilities of intuition take on the dimensions of questioning the boundaries of order and freedom.

Landscape is one of the major sources of nourishment for John and consequently one of the major themes in his art. He has drawn upon several different landscapes over the years. First, there is the landscape that he has lived in for years, the gently rolling hills and rural meadows around Alfred, New York. It is a countryside of farms and reverted farm-lands, with open fields bound by hedgerows of scrub timber and patchwork blocks of deciduous forest. In the summer this country can be beautiful, the meadows full of flowers, butterflies, and birds. The winters are harder, laden with the heavy snowfalls common to the snowbelt on the underside of Lake Ontario. It’s a quiet country. Those parts of John’s work that reflect this landscape are also quiet, private, and gentle.

The light is different in Alfred than in New Mexico and the gestures of the landscape are different and the whole kinetic changes — the wind and the rain, and all the rest of it — is different. And those are the things that I react to. I don’t draw them specifically, but I react to them when they come up. Although the landscapes of Alfred and New Mexico are different, my relationship to them is the same.

It isn’t just that you look out there and see a mountain. It’s how things fluctuate with it. If a gesture is very important to me, if it’s something that moves and so forth, those are my sources to develop from. Sometimes I’ll have a mountain in my drawings, but almost invariably there will also be some situation that moves with it.

The other important landscape for John is the more flamboyant, colorful countryside of northern New Mexico. John fell in love with that country years ago when he and his wife Suzanne camped there while traveling to California. John spent a sabbatical year in Santa Fe in 1965, painting and drawing and establishing contacts with the local people. Since that year John has spent almost every summer in New Mexico. His son, Michael, now lives in Santa Fe with his family. And old friends such as Eric Renner, a colleague of John’s since they taught together at Alfred in the mid-sixties, live in New Mexico as well.
John frequently includes images of his friends in his work; it is one of the ways that the works resonates for him. An important figure which has appeared throughout John’s art during the past years is a portrait of a friend he made on his first visit to New Mexico in 1965.

At some point I was photographing in Chimayo, which is a little Mexican weaving village up in the mountains, and I met this Malacio, who was a Spanish man who had lived there a long time. He’d worked at the YMCA in El Paso for years and years and then retired and moved back up to his home town of Chimayo. I met him and rented a nice little studio room from him that year. I used to go up there three times a week to draw during the entire year that I was out there. I would arrive up there and start down to the studio and Malacio would always come to the door and ask me in for a cup of coffee. I’d go in, have a cup of coffee and we would talk, and then I’d go down to the studio and work.

After that, I’d go out there and rent the studio from him every year until eventually he sold it. He wanted to sell it to me and I wanted to buy it, but it never happened and eventually I figured out that all the deeds are held by the “ditch people” (who run the irrigation ditches) and if I had bought it I would have been one of the first Anglos in there and I think that they just wouldn’t accept that.

Anyway, he was just a wonderful man and we became very good friends. His mother had been an herbalist and the studio room was filled with dried herbs. I would ask him if he knew anything about it and he would always say “no.” But as the years went by he gradually taught me some things, so I learned several good teas and things like that from him.

John has made works in a variety of media that use portraits of Malacio. The portraits frequently are embedded within the New Mexico landscape, or juxtaposed against the New Mexico sky, to convey the interconnectedness of the man and the place.

I relate the indigenous Spanish people to that landscape and the Indians even more strongly because there are still traces from way back. The ruins that you find are Indian. So that part of what’s out there did affect me – it’s a source.

The third landscape valued by John is more metaphorical. It is the landscape of the past history of human creativity. Just as John values the tropes and concepts that allude to the presence of an order in the world, so is he attracted to those traces of past systems of ordering and craftsmanship he finds in the world around him. In the southwest, John is attracted to pictographs, or the patterns on prehistoric pots, or the patterns left by the ruined foundations of an Anasazi dwelling, which are still sitting in the terrain of the present. In New England, John is attracted to the craftsmanship of a ship carpenter’s railing or a weathervane. In every situation he chooses subjects that are intimate in scale, that are specific, and particular. Nothing of the grand vista for him: the vision is always private, the perception is always elegant.   

When John fits together his multilayered collages he is actually fusing a landscape of the past and the present, the terrain and its history, its physical presence and its psychic feeling. Within that structure John will make two major statements. The first is an honoring of certain values, of friendship, or the character of individuals who he knows and likes, or the qualities of intellect and skill that go into the creation of systems of conceptualization and actual works of art, the values of civilization. The second statement is an acknowledgement of the threats to the values and qualities he admires. His “gun in the landscape” series, his references to nuclear disaster, the implications of violence and destruction, are co-opted into his art patterning. These works frequently have a quality of uncertainty about them. John responds to the issues posed within the work with a wry, grim humor.

Drawing is the thing that affects me the most. I’m continually in a state of drawing and no day goes by that I don’t draw something. Mark-making, calligraphy, the kinetic motion of the movement of the hand, are very important to me, probably more important than anything else.

When I go out to New Mexico and draw, I don’t draw what I see. I absorb what I see, and the movement of the landscape, the space, the light, and the colors all come out on the paper. Sometimes it resembles the things out there and sometimes it doesn’t. My abstract work grows out of this as well. The gestures of the landscape are in a lot of my abstract drawings. A lot of my work is horizontal and I think that’s because it grows out of the landscape, which is horizontal for me. A lot of my systems drawings grow out of actual situations.

After I started doing my systems drawings I discovered the Mimbres pottery of the southwest. The designs on that pottery are sometimes crudely drawn but the configurations are always complex and profound. These “primitive” people must have had such a clear sense of order…

Then there are my “self-stenciled drawings,” which are based on the idea of a primary measuring fold, which depends on how many ways that you can fold a sheet of paper…It’s the simplest thing in the world and yet the space becomes very dynamic. These things grow out of some self-determining system.

I suppose that if I had to boil my work down and then do only one or two kinds of art, then I would go for the kinetic drawings and straight photography. I used to have a very nice relationship with photography. It was a peaceful thing that I did. I loved it and I did it, and so forth. Gradually it became a little more intensive. I finally discovered that photography is very hard, in that it’s difficult for me to get the images that I want since it’s such an instantaneous medium. But it’s becoming easy — or at least fun — again.

In photography the place where I discovered that I could work with the issue of any kind of system ideas has been in the multi-framed groups [as in “Nathan Left to Right and Right to Left” or “Self-Portrait Holding a Rope”] where I lined up the frames of the individual prints in ways that broke from a straight forward recording of the subject. Some of my early photographs, the multi-framed pieces, were an attempt to get some kind of kinetic energy into my photography. These weren’t movie making, although I also tried making some short films, but I was just trying to explore the idea that the camera itself could move and that I could move the camera. For a long time this was the most important issue for me and it grew out of my interest in kinetic issues. When I first started doing the multi-framed photographs I wanted my action of taking the picture to become part of the thing. The kinetics of the visual message differ from the kinetics of the taking message…

I had done a number of multiframed images before I went out to New Mexico, but when I was out there I photographed with a 4″ x 5″ and I also had a 35mm camera, and I began to really feel that I wanted the movements that I was making while I was taking the photographs to show up in the photographs themselves. So I began to think about that.
I think about these things [conceptual ideas about the medium] a lot and my sketchbook is full of little ideas about how the frame works and all that sort of thing. But it’s only when these things come together with something that I care about — a person that I know or a situation that I’m interested in — that it becomes interesting to me and I make a photograph. Just the idea by itself is not enough for me.

I think that things have a secondary life. For example, a photograph that is really loved by a lot of people does begin to have a kind of energy that it didn’t have before. And I think, although it’s really difficult to get at, to explain with words, that when a photographer is really concerned about something over a period of time, then that energy begins to enter into his work. And that it is different than someone who takes a pretty picture — I don’t know how — but it’s there in the work. I really think that if some kind of energy is brought to bear in making an image, even in photography, which is the most mechanical of mediums, that it communicates itself somehow.

I think that each artist has to think out the relationship between his work and his use of materials and energy. Each artist is different, and what may be wasteful and overdone for one may be necessary for another.

John lives a lifestyle that, while neither excessively frugal nor unreasonably restricted, is careful and modest in the use of the panoply of consumer goods available in America. His sense of citizenship extends into social and political arenas. He keeps informed on issues, he votes, he knows why he’s voting as he is. He quietly supports the activities of a number of world relief organizations. On those occasions when he has determined that an issue needs more active support, he has expressed his opinions publicly, participating in protests against ecological abuses or the Vietnam War. When social or political issues come into his art however, he is most vigilant that they remain in a controlled fashion, staying in a careful balance with other, visual, concerns.

My life is pretty simple in some ways. I live out here in the country. I think that my life has a number of threads that do interpenetrate each other. I would like to keep those things in balance somehow or other — the environmental and political concerns, my personal life. I don’t sacrifice one at the expense of the other although the concentration of my work may get sacrificed while I’m trying to maintain a balance between all that.

‘Zanne and I were active politically; we support things. But I have to say that I’m becoming more and more non-political as time goes by. But that’s separate from my image concerns; my image concerns are a much harder nut to crack. For example, I would like to have gun control in the United States and I’ve done a whole series of images about “the gun in the landscape,” but they are actually pretty mild, they are often almost whimsical. I feel funny about the fact that they are never very outspoken when I remember some of the earlier photo-collagists such as John Heartfield who used his work like a weapon. I haven’t done that and I don’t know what it means except that my imagery is more on the lyrical side. Maybe we should hang everything up and go out and fight against nuclear proliferation, but so far I haven’t done that. I let the ideas creep into my imagery. I guess I want my photocollages to interact with how I feel about my friends, people I know, and the world. I’m always in argument with myself either to do more or to tend to business.

I did a lot of protest things during the Vietnam war — I started doing collages about 1963 or 1964. I wanted to make how I felt about the war known, and the photocollage seemed to be a wonderful way to do it. I started a series that I call “quiet protests.” I very consciously did not want to create propaganda. Some people exploited all of the emotions associated with the war to their own advantage and I didn’t want to do that, but I wanted to take a stand somehow or other. These “quiet protest” pieces were never vicious and they always have an aesthetic edge to them. There were several images that were probably stronger in their protest but they weren’t as interesting to me because they didn’t meet the boundaries of my aesthetic judgments – I wanted some sense of the whole thing wrapped together.

Since then concerns have become more difficult, and things are more subtle, but they are the same. I’ve made work on the nuclear bomb and on the environment. Environmental things are much harder to get at, but I’m still dealing with them.

I no longer think that I can do photographs that are going to change the Department of Defense, or that my photographs will stop a major corporation from polluting the land and that’s why I maintain my position about abstraction in art. I’m a formalist about my own work. I would maintain that you can say something about your world with abstraction. That’s how you really get at the guts of a thing through your work. If you present some sense of life to somebody else then that’s how you’re doing it. I feel that pretty strongly. My work becomes more and more abstract as I go along. I think that art has its greatest effect when it makes people sensitive to life. And that’s more important than how well or badly images can stir people to immediate political action. That belief gives me the courage to do the kinds of things I do.

In 1970 John published a prose poem in the catalogue for the exhibition 12 x 12 held at the Rhode Island School of Design. The poem outlined his perception of life as a citizen and as an artist.

Thoughts on large numbers
and small
I’m one person and have

two children and
one wife
Some small numbers have
a direct relation to me
35mm tri-X 20 exposures
28mm f2.8 400 ASA
One at a time sometimes
several at a time
one two three
I know how to photograph
my friends and even
begin to know about
small numbers
But I’m part of some large numbers
10 photographs can be
arranged in
3,628,800 different ways
There are 3,200,000,000 people
in the world
many are hungry and
some are not
The last unpolluted air in
the USA was in Flagstaff
six years ago
Rivers catch fire in Cleveland
It takes 50,000 gallons of water
to make one ton of paper
We discard or destroy 20,000,000
tons of paper every year
There are 83 million cars
in the U.S.A.
142 million tons of smoke & fumes
Our highway program destroys
one million acres of oxygen
producing trees and green stuff
Vietnam
Six percent of the world’s people
use sixty percent of the
world’s resources
Large numbers are hard to feel
but the idea is there
no matter how you number it
I’m pleased that Weston followed
his vision in spite of the
depression and that Einstein
knew more about atoms than about politics
But maybe the time has come
for creative photography
to encompass the large
problems without propaganda
or journalism
No answers but I want
the large numbers to
enter my photography


[John Wood, 12×12, Carr House Gallery, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, R. I., 1970, n. p.]

And again in 1977, in a statement written for an exhibition held at the Vision Gallery in Boston, John stated his belief in what made the creative act valuable for him.

I would like my pictures to be abstract
and poetic visual images
of friends and the world
no story telling
sometimes slight propaganda and quiet protest
on the edge of clear meaning.


In 1983 John, who had enjoyed his experience while team teaching with Eric Renner, was interested when Susie Cohen and I approached him to participate in another collaborative effort. Our project involved four artists—Robert Frank, Dave Heath, Robert Heinecken and John Wood meeting with us and together with each other several times over a two year span, showing work and exchanging ideas among themselves and with us, then finally all spending a week together in isolation to work out a final collaborative project. An aim of the Project was to try to document the process of creative activity rather than simply display the art product resulting from the creativity. The Project was loosely formed, with the photographers choosing and controlling what, if anything, they wanted to produce.

Ultimately, each of the artists agreed to produce an original sixteen-page signature for an artist’s book. Each did so, and the final product of the project was to be an exhibition and book of those signatures with our supporting texts plus an accompanying exhibition of the signatures as well as a body of related photographs by each artist. “The Project”, as we called it, was supported by Eelco Wolf, then a Vice-President for the Polaroid Corporation in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Wolf was providing support for several innovative artists’ projects leading to exhibitions and books at the time. This support paid for Susie’s and my time, everyone’s travel and incidental expenses, production and exhibition costs, etc. The artists contributed their interest, ideas and time. The project was completed; the exhibition chosen and framed, the book designed and waiting to go to press, when the Polaroid Corporation acquired a new President; who established new and different policies for the company’s corporate support for the arts, and the funding support for this and other projects, over Eelco Wolf’s protests, was withdrawn. 

John’s sixteen-page signature for this project consisted of a nine image sequence of 16” x 20” black and white prints, which, for the book signature, opened with a vertical image page right and ended with a vertical image, page left, with seven double-page spreads of horizontal images sandwiched between. This sequence was later published in 1987; in the exhibition catalog 4 x 4 Four Photographers by Four Writers. Susie Cohen wrote the essay accompanying John’s work in that catalog. Her essay was in two parts. Part I was essentially the statement about John’s work that she had written for the Polaroid Project book. Part II was a discussion of the new photographic sequence itself.

“I. John Wood is an accomplished artist in a dozen media: printmaking, photography, bookmaking, painting, collage, graphic design, sculpture, installation, and a few he has invented combining those listed. “Accomplished artist” implies recognition by a knowledgeable community of a committed artist’s sustained and successful effort. This has some value for John. He is unassuming but not unworldly. The finished work, and the recognition of it are to John as clothing is to the naked body: it protects, it becomes, it provides access to the wearer. It is not, however, the essential spirit of the man. There is one medium that John uses that comes as close as an artifact can to expressing its maker, and that is drawing.

John draws every day without fail. He has described himself during this activity as “being in a state of drawing.” I gather several things from this spare phrase. John uses speech economically. He is succinct because other languages are more nearly equivalent to his feelings, and, in part, because he is shy. His spoken language is not colorful, but neither is it hyped or exaggerated. He conserves with language as he conserves with water and other resources. He says what he means.

“A state of drawing” is something like meditation, a being with the self that for John is neither analytical nor mystical, but during which he gathers and clarifies those forces which allow him to express himself wholly. In a state of drawing his perceptions concentrate as rhythms and then move through his practiced hand to paper.

The majority of sketches and drawings that John makes are abstract. The “systems drawings” use a series of spaced points to determine a symmetrical design, with roughly equal positive and negative spaces, like Mimbres pottery. Other drawings, done outdoors, refer to real objects in the landscape. All the drawings have in common marks that are both loose and certain, qualities that are only superficially at odds. And all of them, at whatever point on the representational-abstract spectrum, resonate with John’s understanding of nature as both mutable and abiding, restless and enduring. The antecedents of John’s drawings are the organic abstractions of Marin, Dove, and O’Keeffe. Some of his lines rustle as in a breeze; others erode; still others merge like rivulets into streams and rivers.

These word images are from my imagination. Perhaps they are too literal for John. But it is as tempting to describe his drawings this way as it is to conjure figures in clouds, or, more to the point, as it is to believe like Steiglitz in equivalences between a man’s being and the multitude forms of nature. I suspect that what I must name to understand, John intuits. The harm in a name is that it freezes the rhythm of a thing, which may be why John seems always in quiet stride and when he is still, he cups his body around a thing as you would cup your hands over a firefly.

John likes to be and work where nature is active, which can be almost anywhere to the tuned eye. He built his studio in a meadow and watches its cycles from a wall-sized window. He wanders a beach not far from home where a skin of white sand covers black sand, and even a casual toe print creates chiaroscuro. He makes drawings in the sand; some wash away, others he photographs. As much as the gentle east coast hills he likes the raw New Mexico landscape. In that crisp light, John draws cactus from their eye-level with bristly colored spikes that show his admiration for the strategy of their form.

It is this last, John’s belief in the relatedness of form and survival in nature and in the possibility of it in the acts of man, that shapes his perception and sets his work apart from a passive, romantic — he might use the word “rosy” — appreciation of nature. The difference, expressed in all his work by rhythmical kinship among elements, in his drawings by the record of his moving hand, is the difference between a view of nature as finite, to be imitated for its solutions and a view of nature as a process, from whose trial-and-error man might discern a method for his own survival. This is why John’s work is not primarily an art of social action: it is not the what of his work — though the people, places or things depicted can be guaranteed to have personal value to John — but the particular way they fuse that is for him a work’s meaning and power.

John surrounds himself — builds or finds or acquires — with examples of the fusion of workable substance and applicable force. These range from palm-sized stones, to a 15-foot branch used as a railing in the stairway of his house, to the ladder he built of stacked pyramids for his studio. John makes feathery paper and stick sculptures that move in the slightest breeze; installs multipaneled and folded pieces in corners so that they change with the viewer’s approach; uses the finite number of corner-to-corner folds of a piece of paper in combination with drawing to make geometry a mobile experience.

He greatly admires Buckminster Fuller. He loves to watch dance.
The components of rhythm are movement and order. In John’s case, his love of movement is a matter of personality. Order he has studied for 40 years as it applies to each of those media in which he works. He has experimented with the size, shape, and heft of pages as they turn in a book; with tone, perspective, and frame as photographic principles; with transparency, stroke and texture as ingredients of watercolor. So I modify what I said at first. To call John “an artist accomplished in a dozen media” is not wrong, but it unduly fragments his guiding passion. In a sense, John has only one subject, one technique, one piece of equipment, one medium. The subject is fluidity; the technique, integration; the equipment, hands; the medium, sight.

II. Landscape in art supposes a crucial distinction between Man and Nature – that Man is conscious, that Nature is not. Man and Nature have parallel, but separate existences. …nature’s awesome power is mitigated by our ability to think and feel. The separateness permits the artist to locate upon the unknowing planet metaphoric identifications with ourselves. Artists in all media, photography included, invent metaphors for consciousness, and use the metaphors to describe, explain or moralize our acts… Much of John Wood’s photographic works are landscapes. Like all landscapes, John’s incorporate his own and societies’ values. In past work, such as the extended “gun in the landscape” series, John juxtaposed mass-produced weaponry against rocks and beasts, ancient pictographs, the remains of native American dwellings and finely crafted objects such as water vessels and weathervanes. John used the dichotomy between culture and nature to express his concerns as a husbander of nature and America’s ambivalence toward the preservation of nature.…

In the past, John’s landscapes appealed gently for ecological sanity. His recent landscapes are darker, and more urgent. …Kinship of shape, tone and subject also coheres John’s larger grouping of images. The threat of nuclear disaster to the survival of life on earth suffuses a reading of nine photographs John sequenced in 1985. Each of the images is shrouded in dark tones; several reverse positive and negative tones; and several are seen from such abrupt or unusual angles that a first and lasting impression is one of disturbance to the natural order of things. The sequence is an anguished vision, but not a hopeless one.

The first picture, of the lower half of an eagle with an identifying label strung on its talons and dangling on its belly, is a vertical image. The last picture, of a tiny baby scrunched in a car seat, is also vertical. The visual equation of symbols – the first, national: representing great and unfettered freedom (alas, the bird is dead) and the second, personal and universal: representing regeneration (the baby is John’s grandchild) – acts simultaneously to heighten a sense of loss and to engage a sense of protection. In these key positions, nature’s fate is matched to our own.

The seven internal images are all horizontals, and with the exception of the mid-point of the sequence, all are landscapes. The first of these is positive/negative reversed, so that open sky above a field of grasses looms darkly above oddly shadowed, broken stalks. The second landscape, again in reversed tonalities, is a rephotographed collage. A postcard of a Golden Eagle, in proud profile, has been placed on a tangle of star shaped leaves. While the third landscape is in correct tonality, it echoes its precursors in subject and shape. Two trees, tightly grown together, are photographed so that they appear to be falling. This angle emphasizes their roots, which seem like talons clutching loosened earth unable to hold them.

The sense of disorder in the second set of landscapes is even more disturbing than in the first. Now , it is not an overcast field, a nearly extinct bird, one rotted woods, but widespread and profound destruction. The first of these images is another view of the star-shaped leaves. The bird is gone; above the leaves, between them, dusting their surfaces, the air is choked with charcoal smog. Then, the woods again. From dead center of the image, to the edges and past the edges, are concentric rings of energy so violent they literally shake the earth: trees fall helter-skelter bouncing like matchsticks. In the last landscape, a river rushes forward, carrying torn branches over a waterfall that seems to spill into the viewer’s space.

In all of these landscape images, the formal devices are used to conjoin our destiny to nature’s. John has attempted to go beyond identification with nature, even beyond empathy with it. He has tried to subdue his consciousness by moving his eyes and hands in ways that resemble the gestures of things moved by natural and man-made energies. But we are conscious and nature is not. The Pathetic Fallacy does not work in reverse. John, the picturemaker, knows this very well.

The fifth image of the sequence is its core and key. In it, an American flag unfurls across a house. A cast eagle, wings spread, rides atop the flagpole. The stars of the flag look like the leaves; the house leans precariously, like the trees. American flag, family home, bronze eagle – all are inventions of the imagination. They are symbols of the human needs to bond, to believe in things, to shape a world. In this sequence, the symbols and what they stand for, are endangered.

It  takes an act of courage to present sophisticated formal expression as a means of “quiet protest” (John’s words) in this postmodern age, an age in which pictures are litter and image inundation has numbed us equally to violence and to the magic of simple things. John combines simple things – the matching of shapes, the continuity of gestures – to cohere a complex world. For John, the interconnectedness of subject and form, of the natural and made, stands for the possibility of a peaceful coexistence between ourselves and nature.”

[Cohen, Susan E. “The Art of John Wood.” pp. 30-37 in: 4 x 4 Four Photographers by Four Writers: Eileen Cowin by Mark Johnstone, Nathan Lyons by Leroy Searle, Mary Ellen Mark by Shelly Rice and John Wood by Susan E. Cohen. Boulder, Colo.: University of Colorado, Boulder, Dept. of Fine Arts, c1987. 39 p. 9 b & w. 1 color (on front cover) by Wood.]

In the 1980s John experienced two major lifestyle changes. He separated from his first wife to live with the artist Laurie Snyder and in 1989 he retired from full-time teaching at Alfred University, although he continued to teach workshops throughout the decade. Laurie Snyder had attended Swarthmore College in the mid sixties, then married and had two children. In the 1980s she went back to school, describing herself as “An over-thirty undergraduate at Cornell, formerly a potter, …looking for a better way of expressing myself…” I found it in photography. I attended a lecture by John Wood at Cornell in 1982, and was impressed with the work and the man.” More than a year later she took a week-long summer workshop with John where they met and fell in love. Laurie submitted a “Monograph on the Work of John Wood – Artist and Teacher” in 1987 in partial fulfillment of her MFA degree requirements at Syracuse University. This is an extensively researched document with a detailed look at Wood’s biography and body of work. Laurie lived and taught in Ithaca, New York and John moved there in 1987, joining Laurie and her teenaged sons Noah and Benjamin, living in a converted farmhouse in a picturesquely rural setting surrounded by the extensive fields and woods of the Cornell Agricultural Experimental Station crop testing sites. When Laurie was hired to teach at the Maryland Institute College of Art in 1993 they began to divide their time between Baltimore during the academic year and Ithaca during their summers, with frequent trips to give lectures and teach seminars and offer workshops at the Anderson Ranch Arts Center in Colorado, at the International Center for Photography in New York City, the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, NY and elsewhere through the 1990s. They married in 1996.

Each is an artist with their own interests and ideas, and each has developed a uniquely personal style to best express those interests – but they both also share many similar concerns and interests in the same mediums and materials. Both work freely across photography, drawing, printmaking and collage as favored forms; and both are strongly committed to the artist’s book as a means of expressing their ideas.

In a 1992 interview both artists responded to the question of mutual influences:

Susie Cohen: I would like to ask each of you what it is like to move into a situation where you have a partnership with a person who is equally creative. I know that you are both strong advocates of each other’s work, and I’d be interested to know how the partnership affects your work and also what kinds of seepages there are from ideas between you and among you and the way your work looks? What does it feel like to be living with a person who you consider a peer and a creative partner as well as a life partner? Is that fair?
John Wood: Sure, it’s a good question.   Laurie…? (laughter)
Laurie Snyder: I was curious as to what you would say first.
JW: Well, first of all I think it’s very desirable –so far anyway. We’re very compatible. I’m talking about not just in our general living, but in terms of working. I’m very happy to share with Laurie some of the skills that I’ve developed through the years –particularly in binding and stuff like that. And we share images back and forth. I think her sense of work is quite lively and I think that influences me. Well, simple things, like we do share images. Some of my images are in Laurie’s work and some of Laurie’s images are in my work and that hasn’t created any problems for me. I don’t know if it has for her.
LS: I’d say that of those pictures that we share, we also have some that we clearly think of as separate pictures. If there were, say, a thousand negatives then there are probably about twenty percent on either end that are yours or mine. Then there are some in the middle that are general domain. I sometimes think of them as if we were sharing a box of crayons.
JW: Well, for example, we both do use the cyanotype as a gestural medium. You can put the cyanotype chemicals down on the paper as a gesture. [In brushstrokes rather than as an even coating.] We both do that. So there is going to be a certain similarity to the work.  And, yes, there are specific negatives that usually appear in a piece that really works for one of us and we each generally claim those negatives as our own.
LS: It seems to have one’s signature on it, in a way.
JW: Yes.
LS: But then there are others. We have a sort of generic pine tree that it seems like we both use. It’s just this pine tree smack dab in the middle of this big negative… And we have several of the mountain pictures where we don’t even know who took the slide. We used the same camera at the same site and we each took ten or twelve slides. I made enlarged negatives from those slides and either one of use can use those negatives in any way we damn well choose. But there are certainly other negatives that one or the other of us has taken that’s to be in the box [negative drawer] that says “Laurie” or says “John.” And then there are some negatives that just float around… And we ask each other’s permission, too.
JW: For instance, Laurie’s working on some family things. I wouldn’t dream of taking one of those images. If there are any negatives that are just generic images, then I’d feel free to use them. But I wouldn’t dream of using images of any of the immediate things that she is dealing with.
LS: We started using each other’s negatives during our residency at the Anderson Ranch in Colorado. It’s so easy to take pictures there that you could have gone to the drug store and bought on a post card. It’s the goddam mountains just sitting there and the picture looks the same whether you take the picture or I take the picture. The first pictures you make look just like other people’s pictures. You think, ‘God, this is hopeless. It’s sort of comical when you realize it. On that trip we took one 35mm camera, one 2 ¼ camera and one 4 x 5 camera between us and we used them interchangeably. And the negatives sort of became part of our private public domain.
JW: And I’ve been in this type of situation for a long time, because I made negatives of pictures taken by other people in the newspapers and magazines during the Vietnam War to use to create some of my early collages; where I added color or the textures of the collaged materials to create my own statement. I made them until eventually I became embarrassed, because the collages were always reproduced in black and white, which took away all the hand things I did to create the new image and those things were not there anymore and the borrowed images in the piece would pop out at me and I just felt that it was wrong. So I stopped then….

[Cohen, Susie and William Johnson. Audiotape interview with Laurie Sievert Snyder and John Wood in John’s studio at Ithaca, NY on July 25, 1992.]

During the summer of 1992 the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, NY. held an exhibition of John’s work which specifically featuring his concerns on ecological issues and nuclear dangers. Quiet Protest: Recent Work by John Wood displayed thirty‑three works by the artist which ranged across several media. The exhibition contained an installation piece in a small alcove, which consisted of nine willow twig tripods or teepee structures, each with a square of hand‑made paper containing a single printed word, hanging by a long thread from the tripod’s apex. A limited-edition artist’s book titled With What Will We Build Our Nuclear Waste Box? was also placed in the small room. In the main gallery were thirty-two large prints and a second limited‑edition artist’s book, titled Oil and Water, made with acrylic, paste paper, graphite, watercolor and computer text. Both books were open and available for reading by anyone attending the exhibition. There were several diptych prints and one piece, titled “Bird Names,” consisting of seven silver prints and a printed statement, among these thirty‑two prints. The prints ranged from straight silver print photographs to cyanotypes, and monoprints. Most of these works were collages, made with silver prints, applied watercolor or applied acrylic, graphite, etc. Several of the prints were identified as being from specific series, including the Fall Creek Rock Drawings, the Colorado Series, and the Exxon Valdez Series.

Two printed statements were displayed with the works in the exhibition.

“On March 24th, 1989 the Exxon Valdez ran aground spilling 10 million gallons of oil in Prince William Sound, Alaska. On March 24th I made a list of all the waterbirds with the name of a color in their name.
Lawrence Rawls is chairman of Exxon
George Nelson is director of Alyeska, pipeline company (7 firms)
Joseph Hazelwood is the captain of the tanker
Third mate Gregory Comsuis pilots the tanker
And John Wood, the artist, drives his car.

In my pictures
I try to see around
the corners of
landscape
feel objects
and touch the
enormity of what we do

I wonder if small acts
can bear on our problems
that is my hope
John Wood 1992”


In July 1992 Susie and I visited and interviewed John and Laurie at his studio in Ithaca, NY, and I published parts of that interview in the September 1992 issue of The Consort, which featured the exhibition.

“Susan Cohen:Why did oil become the symbolic element of waste in your photographs exhibited in “Quiet Protest”?
John Wood: Well, because of the Exxon Valdez event and the fact that we all personally use oil, and that it’s a full circle; which we have to think about in one way or another. And I try to find ways that add that sort of idea in my imagery.
SC: There are so many things that we waste that I was interested in why you chose that one. The picture “Laurie’s Cobble,” with 1/4 teaspoon of oil. It’s astonishing how far that oil goes…
JW: Well, when the Exxon Valdez spill happened it was ten million gallons <197> or whatever it was. That was a specific number, and it was a dramatic act. And it was the responsibility of the corporations, but it was also our own responsibility.
Laurie Snyder:Every time you get the oil changed in your car you’re asking them to throw away four to six quarts of oil. Where does that oil go, when you go to the gas station?
JW: Anyway that’s why I dealt with that topic and I think all of the things I’ve dealt with in a similar fashion are just such a complex thing. But it all comes around and envelopes us and I wanted those things to be in my imagery. In the early series on guns in the landscape, for instance, there’s nothing about that series that literally says I’m against guns. Yet I am, and I feel that those images say that, they say it very specifically, I mean, they don’t say it specifically but they say it abstractly, or metaphorically. And the toxic waste pieces, the works about nuclear waste, it’s the same thing. I list a number of words like “granite,” “glass,” “paper,” “air,” “water,” and I say how are we going to contain our nuclear waste? And there’s nothing that really protests, there’s nothing lethal about what I’m saying, nothing that’s going to solve the problem. It’s just the way I can get at stuff, I guess.
William Johnson: Your imagery refers to nuclear waste issues and to oil spills and issues of pollution and conservation, but you don’t make strident, overtly political propaganda. You have quietly produced images dealing with these concerns, about issues of conservation and pollution and atomic energy and atomic waste for many years now, so was there a specific reason to focus that on those things in this show? Or is this just a continuation of a long‑term effort?
JW: Well, the show itself is a continuation of my work, there is nothing about the show that is very different from anything else I could pull out of my files…
WJ: It’s what you’ve been doing since at least the 1960s.
JW: Yes. The reason it gets kind of concentrated in the show is that I am still doing it, I guess.
LS: Also, you and Jim Wyman (Curator of the Visual Studies Workshop Gallery, and of this exhibition.) discussed whether you could design a show that would be around a central concept to help solidify it.
JW: I think Jim wanted it to be even more specific, but I didn’t. “Quiet Protest” was my name for it simply because he wanted a name, I look at it as an exhibit of my work.
WJ: Can we describe the show a little bit? What do you call these wonderful tripod pieces? Would that be a sitework?
LS: Wonderful tripod pieces, there you go, it’s his tripod installation. It was his attempt to be a trendy artist. (Laughter.)
JW: Yeah. Years ago I did a series of sculptural things where I figured out how I could support a piece of paper in space. I ended up with about fifteen pieces, one of which is this tripod of three willow sticks with the thin paper supported just off the floor with nine threads which are hanging from the tripod. So, when I was trying to think of a project that I wanted to do this was one of the things I came up with. I repeated this thing that I had discovered a long time ago. This tripod suspending a piece of thin Japanese tissue was interesting to me. It sways on the nine threads, and it just stays there. So when I had the idea of doing a simple installation of these things I figured out how I wanted to do it and I went out and cut the willow sticks and trimmed them and peeled them and I did the string and I made the paper and I printed one word on each sheet of paper and I suspended them from these tripods.
WJ: And the words are “Granite.”
JW: “Salt,” “Paper…”
LS: “Steel.”
JW: “Steel,” “Glass,” “Lead,” “Clay,” “Wood” and “Water.”
WJ: These nine tripods are presented in a small alcove in the exhibition. One of the things that I remembered when I looked at that was that there were some air currents or something. The pieces were swaying with a very subtle elegant movement, sort of floating under these very tenuous‑looking stick tripods.
JW: A gust of wind would have demolished the whole setup.
LS: A kid on a tricycle.
WJ: Then there’s an artist’s book there in the space, which you can pick up and read, and it has the same words printed one per page, on graph paper. And this particular work was titled “With What Will We Build Our Nuclear Waste Box?”
LS: It’s quintessentially ephemeral, lightweight, and fragile and yet it’s dealing with things that are supposed to make you feel secure like granite, steel, and heavy solid things which aren’t going to move.
WJ: What else is in the exhibition?
JW: There are two books and there are a lot of my images, collages…
WJ: How big?
JW: They’re mostly in the 22″x30″ range.
WJ: And these are collages with photographs?
JW: Collages with silver print photographs, also cyanotypes and other materials, and hand applied colors, graphite, etc.
WJ: There are words in some of those.as well?
JW: There are texts in some of them. A typical piece is the collage consisting of several photographs of corn cribs so that they have a slight shift of perspective. And there’s a big smear of liquid graphite. The title of that is “How to Hide Nuclear Waste.” And this is an ironic statement, this is where it becomes very difficult for me, because I mean this as a protest. There’s too much secrecy about the nuclear waste. There’s not enough said about it, but what is said is not true or it’s distorted or all the rest of it. So this statement, “How to Hide Nuclear Waste” is about that.
LS: You had another piece that played on the same issue, a collage which included two photographs of paper bags held closed with a clothespin at the top. It was concerned with how to store dangerous materials. In your talks with students and other people you’ve said that you felt that, in a sense, every human being should have some nuclear waste that they had to store and keep safe. It would spread this idea around that we have huge storage places that would clearly wipe out whole pockets of populations that live around those places, but if every person had a small amount that they had to…
SC: They’d be more serious about keeping it. It becomes closer to each of us.
JW: Every one of my images, whether conscious or not, has a number of different levels, for example in the picture of the corn cribs which is about how to hide nuclear waste. Well, we’re also hiding it in our food chain. And the paper bag thing was reflecting on the fact that we’re dealing with things that have such an extremely long life and we’re not really thinking about it carefully. I mean, a stainless steel canister, in terms of the life of nuclear waste, is almost as fragile as the paper bag. And its that kind of multiplicity that I’m seeking in the pieces.
SC: But there is actually nothing that we know of that can contain those wastes.
LS: We have no way of testing anything for the period of time that is required…
JW: And we’re being misled about it.
WJ: But it also seems to me that instead of pointing the finger at the government or something like that, you’re saying it’s the responsibility of each individual human being to be concerned.
JW: Well, that’s the circular thing that I feel, it all comes back to each one of us.
WJ: I don’t think about nuclear waste each day, I put it out of my mind everyday, although, as you say, it is probably one of the more important issues of our time.
LS: But if you had a coffee can that was your responsibility to keep safe from Josh and Susan and you knew that your neighbor had one too, you’d make sure that you both knew where it was at all times.
SC: I’d worry about my neighbor a lot more than I do now, that’s for sure.
LS: Yeah.
SC: But it might create a closer chain among humans…
LS: But, in a sense, what we’re talking about is that nuclear waste is our neighbor and yet we put it out of our minds. And I think that’s what John is trying to grapple with, without chaining himself to a fence at the proposed depot site.
JW: Well, I feel that this is my subject matter in a way that I can’t ignore. I still love to take nice photographs, I like landscapes and I like nice silver prints and stuff like that, but I feel a little uncomfortable with that right now. I feel that if I’m going to display stuff, that it has to go beyond that…
LS: Some of the reasons you work with the nuclear waste issue in particular is that some of your family and colleagues in Alfred are sitting on the proposed site. In fact, your former property is not more than ten miles from the proposed site of New York State’s largest storage facility.
JW: Yes, that comes very close personally. My grandchildren live less than five miles from this proposed site. But also a lot of my friends were willing to be arrested.
LS: They put their lives on the line.
JW: Yes, Bill Perry, was actually arrested.
LS: Yes, he spent the night in the jail.
JW: Blocking these inspectors who were going to survey the site and do stuff to it. Not only in Allegheny County but Cortland County, which is right next door. These people are really battling. And it wasn’t a battle of “not in my backyard,” because I don’t know what the answer to that is. They were battling more that the government has to think more about this. I mean, it has to be solved in a better way than secretly burying it somewhere. I don’t know which official said this statement, but he said, “Trust us, we know what we’re doing.” They don’t know what they’re doing. And there’s no reason at all in the world to trust them, in relationship to things that have happened in the past about nuclear waste and what happens with it.
WJ: But, again, while this has become a fairly pointed and specific issue to you recently, issues of the bomb and gun control have been a long‑standing concern in your work for many years now.
JW: Ever since I’ve been a conscious artist — you know, somebody that’s dealing with ideas — these have been my concerns. And I think that’s one of the reasons why photography was interesting to me. Particularly collaging, that permitted me to feed this kind of stuff into my images. It doesn’t occur in my drawings, for instance. I don’t make drawings of protests or I don’t make drawing of George Bush and make it pointedly propagandistic…
WJ: But you also don’t make photographs of that either. You make photographs of natural things around you in your life. The picture called “Laurie’s cobble” is a photograph of a very smooth oval rock with a drop of oil spread on it.
JW: It was a pink cobblestone that Laurie brought me from Nova Scotia and originally I made a photograph of it and that was the title of the photograph. There’s a little text that said Laurie went down to the beach at six o’clock in the morning and brought me back this cobblestone from Nova Scotia so I had this cobble and I had this photograph that I’d made of it that had nothing to do with nuclear waste or oil spills or anything else. And I felt the need to bring this into the context of the oil spill and I put some oil on it and rephotographed it.
LS: Well, if we had a big oil spill in our yard, you know it would effect us very closely. We don’t live in Alaska and we don’t live on the coast, but if you take something that’s important to you personally and it gets polluted, that infects you. John took an object of love and intimacy and by putting a teaspoon of oil on that particular rock, that act made it more hard‑hitting. It practically made me cry. But then, in the end, the actual rock that the oil spill is on is just gorgeous.
(laughter)
SC: Unfortunately, yes.
JW: That’s one of the things that I run up against because I don’t want to make images that are ugly. I mean, I’m dealing with an ugly subject, I suppose, but I want my images to be beautiful. But this has a long history, I mean Picasso’s “Guernica” is a beautiful painting and Goya’s etchings are exquisite to me, so I guess that’s what the artist does if he’s going to deal with this. Heartfield’s images weren’t so beautiful, I mean he was much more specific…
SC: Oh, but they do have a whole unity about them, it’s that same wonderful thing about the way something hangs together, it means what it means by how it looks.
JW: I guess if an artist is really going to be cutting, he goes and does street theater or protest in some way other than his work.
LS: But that certainly is not your way.
JW: That is not my way.
SC: Laurie, do you deal with the big issues in your work? John directly addresses the big issues although he does it with a bird or a pebble <197> it’s contextualized. What are the issues of your work? It’s interesting to me because earlier we talked about how you both often use the same negative of a pine tree in a picture. I mean, I guess I’m getting to the old basic thing, the picture is not about what’s in the picture, the picture is about what else is going on in the picture.
LS: I do a lot of imagery that derives somewhat more out of personal experience, in that sense, it is more diaristic. I don’t particularly think of it as particularly about me, but a lot of the imagery comes out of really ordinary kind of everyday kind of stuff <197> a tomato that I’m peeling, or making bread, or things like that, but I don’t think of it particularly about peeling tomatoes.
SC: But what’s the transforming process that makes the personal act into something that could touch everybody.
LS: But often, as you’re peeling a tomato and you think, “God, the skin as it hangs off the fork looks like Michelangelo’s flayed skin on the Sistine Chapel that I studied in art history about 25 years ago…” And so I’m sitting here peeling tomatoes on a hot summer afternoon and I think, “Oh shit, I better photograph this thing.” I mean that’s very common for me. A lot of times I can’t make the photograph then, there are seventeen people coming for supper or something, so I write it down at night and some other time I take the photograph.
SC: But somehow the recognition of the small event as representing something larger, or something within the continuous history of art making, that doesn’t disappear, it shows up.
LS: Yes, I think so.
JW: And the photograph can do that, that’s what it can really do, I mean it’s the melding together that comes out of your own experience.
LS: And I’ve always liked that in other people’s work, that sort of attention to the little details that seem as important as the big issues.
JW: I think that could be said about my work and Laurie’s work. I mean her issues are just as important and broad as my issues.
LS: I don’t take on the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.
JW: But I don’t either.
SC: But the value of life, I didn’t mean to say that your work is less because it dealt with private issues, I guess I was trying to work around what that whole concept is.
LS: I have a photograph where I use strudel dough, the image is of some very thin dough through which you can see the contours of the hand, an old hand. The picture really is about skin and fragility and feelings and feelings of being punctured. I guess I use my mother fairly often in my pictures. It’s handy, she’s around all the time…
SC: She’s got these good old hands?
LS: She’s got old hands, they’re extremely capable woman’s hands that are now very old, a little less capable, but certainly heavily used tools.
JW: But you see, to me, that would be an issue that’s just as broad as a ten million gallon oil spill and I guess I would hope that some of my images would have some of that also….
[Conversation continues]…”

[Cohen, Susie E. and William Johnson. “Quiet Protest: Conversation with the Artist.” The Consort: A Calendar of Photography, Film and Video Events in and around Rochester with Reviews, Interviews and Critical Essays (Sept. 1992): 1-14. 9 b & w. (Office of University Educational Services, George Eastman House).]

John has worked across a wide range of visual media during his career, making work ranging from large painted canvases to small wooden constructions. But one strong constant in John’s art-making practice since the 1950s has been his interest in the artist’s book. He has taught artist’s book making classes and workshops to hundreds of students and he has made more than fifty artist’s books. Most of these were in extremely limited editions – either unique copies, or in editions of from three to a hundred copies. In 1996 he had the opportunity to create an artist’s book at the Visual Studies Workshop Press in an edition of 3000 copies. This book OZONE ALERT, againextends John’s ecological concerns.

The texts are short:

“the other day I read on a highway sign WARNING OZONE ALERT.” 

Miners Take a yellow canary into the
Mine to warn them of danger. The
bird’s collapse alerts the miners to bad air.

I wonder if our songbirds will warn
us of bad air and will we be able to
understand their song?

In July 1995 I took photographs of
The cooling towers at three mile island
And made a list of 89 birds with color in their name.”

This is followed by twenty-seven pages of landscape photographs, varying from distant views of the nuclear cooling towers to close-up scenes of flowers, rocks or rubble found in both urban and rural sites. Each of these scenes has a single line of text, consisting of the 89 bird’s names, printed across the middle of each page:

“blue-footed booby yellow crowned heron white ibis great blue heron yellow warbler,” etc.

The mixture of the beautiful and the mundane, the poetry of the birds’ names against the grimness of the industrial views, sets up a dynamic of attraction and repulsion, and leads to a sense of unease and disquiet that plays out through the patterns and modulations of the pages of the book. A form of communication, which John has pointed out, that you hold in your hands and view at a personal distance and read at a personal rate of speed – in other words, a private, privileged and intimate form of communication. And John sets up a dynamic in his book that is not intellectual, not a reasoned argument for or against nuclear energy – rather his tropes and figures call up an intuitive sense of possible danger and potential loss, a foreboding rather than a prediction, a call for caring concern rather than an argument for specific action.

[Wood, John. OZONE ALERT Rochester, NY: Visual Studies Workshop Press, 1996. 32 pp. ]

[FINAL STATEMENT]
When I interviewed John in 2006, he first warned me with that always almost painful honesty that he had always shown me that he was “slower now” – by which he meant that he couldn’t remember some of the past events in great detail any more and that he also had some trouble finding the correct words he was seeking when he attempted to talk about issues. But the amazing diversity and beauty of his art practice over the past twenty years hasn’t seemed to have been in any way slowed down. So our interviews became sessions where I simply enjoyed the wonderful art that he showed me, piece after piece; while I tried to frame very direct, very basic questions. Looking at some lovely computer prints which had lists of single words incorporated into the images, I asked if he had ever enjoyed Concrete Poetry, to which he responded he had been very interested in it back in the 1960s. Something in the color and line of one work impelled me to ask if he had ever been influenced by Paul Klee. He answered, without an ounce of sarcasm or irony, “Wasn’t everyone?” Then finally I asked the most basic and hardest question of all. “Why do you make art?” John looked surprised, even bewildered by the question; then answered “How could I not?”

Horses, Sea Lions, and Other Creatures: Robert Frank, Dave Heath, Robert Heinecken and John Wood, by Susan E. Cohen and William S. Johnson. Belmont, MA: Joshua Press, 1986. 242 pp., 36 35mm slides bound‑in. Limited edition, 16 copies, printed on an IBM‑AT computer, with WordStar 2000 software.

“Quiet Protest: Recent Work by John Wood. Conversation with the Artist,” by Susan E. Cohen and William Johnson. The Consort (Sept. 1992): 1‑14.

John Wood. On the Edge of Clear Meaning.
Text by David Levi Strauss, William S. Johnson and Ezra Shales. Book design by Joan Lyons. Gottingen: Steidl, 2008. 178 pp. 168 illus. [Accompanied an exhibition first co-hosted at the George Eastman House, the Visual Studies Workshop and the Memorial Art Gallery, Rochester, NY, then traveled to the International Center of Photography and the Grey Art Gallery, New York, NY, then elsewhere.]



Three Photographs by Robert Frank

Its October, 2017. My trip to Mabou to visit Robert Frank happened more than thirty years ago and I’ve forgotten parts of it already, but more importantly, even those parts I do remember are starting to fuzz a little, so I want to try to write this down before I lose it altogether….

I.

The photograph is titled “Washington DC on a Monday Afternoon ca. 1952.” It presents an enlarged three panel strip of 35mm negatives depicting a car passing in front of an American flag painted on a brick wall, framed on each side by a half-image of the photo taken before (front end of car approaching) and then afterwards (car gone, small group of people walking by and looking at the wall – probably because the photographer was photographing something strange), with 35mm negative socket holes included on bottom of print. The title is hand-written by Mr. Frank in black ink under the bottom margin and “For Bill on a wonderful October Sunday in Mabou in 1984, Robert Frank.” is inscribed in green ink in the print. The print has irregular burned edges, which Mr. Frank informed me were created on one lazy, but bright, afternoon in Mabou by focusing the rays of the sun through a beer bottle to burn a line of holes around the edges of the print.

I was to fly from Boston up to Halifax, then drive a rental car across and up the long narrow spine of the Nova Scotia peninsula to Mabou, where Robert had his summer home, to spend the weekend talking together and observing him in that space, and then return home. As I was doing this as part of the long-term experimental collaborative exhibition project with the four photographers Robert Frank, Dave Heath, Robert Heinecken, and John Wood, which Eelco Wolf, at Polaroid, was backing; the technical details of the trip, the plane-tickets, car rentals, etc. had been organized by his very efficient secretaries in his office, as was the customary practice.

Susie and I had already been working on and off with Robert Frank as part of this collaborate project. We had visited him in his New York loft to explain the project to him and to ask him to participate. Robert had come to Rochester, NY to meet the other artists and participants, and to decide whether to participate in the project, and there had been some further meetings in our apartment in Belmont, Mass. And I had spent several times observing him at various other points – most notably when I had functioned as his temporary assistant and observer during a commercial “photo shoot” in Boston, after Frank had been asked to make photographs for an album cover for the J. Giles Band. (I have attempted to describe this event in one of the Knute Rockne Oasis Newsletters that Susie and I published for the project’s participants as the project developed.)

I had always loved Frank’s photographs and had been impressed by his reputation; but “reputations” can be problematic and I had attempted to maintain some distance as an “objective observer” throughout these events. But frankly, in an early visit to his New York apartment I had seen some of his entirely new, post-The Americans photographs, which had not yet been published anywhere and were not known to the public at that time; and their beauty and power had simply blown me away. And observing Mr. Frank over the course of earlier meetings and events I had come to believe that he was perhaps the smartest, most instinctively intuitive individual I had ever met. I was, I’m afraid, swept away and a little bit in awe, in spite of my efforts be a neutral observer, and when he invited me to come up to spend a week-end in Mabou I was keyed up and had had little sleep for several nights before the trip.

But the trip started off poorly, in a small twin-engine airplane, which probably could hold about twenty passengers, but which had only about a half-dozen seats filled on this flight. The flight was supposed to leave Boston in the morning and arrive in Halifax by mid-afternoon. But there were mechanical difficulties and we sat in the plane at the airport for several hours while a couple of mechanics peered at its innards and pounded on this or that until they felt that it might make it all the way to Halifax after all.

After we took off I don’t think we flew more than a few hundred feet above the ground, hugging the coastline all the way up to Canada. I remember flying over mile after mile of heavy dark-green forests, only broken up by sheets of dark-grey, deeply-scored rocks abruptly abutting the foaming waves of the blue sea. This is a brutal coastline that clearly shows the weight of geological glaciation as it projects the determinative forces of nature forcefully to the eye. There were few sandy beaches on this coast, and the human footprint seemed tentative at best. There had to be people living somewhere in the hundreds of miles we flew over, but I saw very little sign of them. A poor traveler, and already tired, I must have fallen asleep for the end of the trip.

In any case when we arrived at Halifax I seemed to be in a slightly muzzy haze. We arrived at the Halifax airport in the evening, long after the last flight was due, and several hours after the airport and its car-rental booth was scheduled to close for the night. The other five or six passengers, all apparently native to the area, quietly scattered and disappeared, leaving me in the virtually empty airport, where I didn’t even know how to find the exit to the street. However, I spotted the car-rental desk, where what seemed to be pretty much the only person in the airport, and for all I knew, the only living person in Canada, was quietly puttering around in a desultory way while preparing to go home. Rushing over, I told him that I was the individual that was there to pick up the car rented by the Polaroid Corporation; only to find out that Eelco’s normally impeccable secretary had screwed up and there was no record of any such rental agreement. After some discussion, I was somehow able to convince the man to rent the car to me anyway. (My story must have seemed so outlandish that it had to be true, and it may have been his only business of the day. And besides, aside from a tiny neck of land hundreds of miles to the north-west, Nova Scotia was virtually an island anyway – so where could I go in a stolen car?)

So the long autumn evening was turning dark as I left the airport, armed with verbal directions to Mabou from the agent, and with a map provided by him in the car. It should be easy. There was only one major highway that ran through the middle of Nova Scotia from Halifax up to the west coast of Cape Bretton where Mabou is located. I was to leave the airport, turn right, and then drive north for three or four hours for about 200 miles, then look for signage for Mabou. I left the airport and the scatter of Halifax lights disappeared behind me, the rare highway light-poles ran out, and I drove straight down the emptiest highway I had ever seen, fronted on both sides by a serried rank of dense foliage, into the heart of darkness.

Now, I am no stranger to long lonely cross-country drives. My father had worked for an oil-well servicing company then based in Oklahoma; and he had moved our small family – himself, my mother and me, – from oil-field to oil-field as they opened up. My family was from Oklahoma, but I was born in Effingham, Illinois during the Centralia Oil Field Boom in the early 1940s; then, in succession, the family moved to and lived from six months to two years each in Ohio, West Virginia, Texas, Peru, Venezuela, Columbia, Texas again, Alberta, Canada, and then Ohio again; all before I had reached high-school. And always in between these trips, we came back to my grandfather’s farm in Oklahoma to rest for a few weeks to several months and wait for the next assignment.

As a child, I had been driven cross-country several times, spending the long nights staring up out of the back window of the car at the amazing river of stars in the Milky Way and the very occasional fairy-tower of lights festooning a functioning oil-rig, the lights visible for miles on the high prairies of the Great Plains. Or on one trip from Edmonton, Alberta, driving even further up north to the edge of the Arctic Circle, with a day and a night of driving through mile after mile after mile of burned-over forest. And as an adult I had driven from Massachusetts or New York to Oklahoma, or Arizona, or California and back again more than once. I once calculated that I have driven through every state in the contiguous United States except Washington. I am very aware of the great distances and massive scale of the natural features to be found in our country, and I am experienced at driving through them.

But this drive up the Nova Scotia highway was spooking me. After driving in the dark for the three required hours without seeing, if I remember correctly, a single car, a single dwelling, or even a single road-sign, I stopped to read the map. And here I received an even more unnerving shock. The map, incredibly, had been printed in light green and yellow ink and I literally could not read it by the interior lights of the car. No matter how hard I strained, I simply could not discern the route or puzzle out the map at all, which seemed to me at best to be a badly faded piece of paper. I stopped in the middle of the highway and got out of the car and tried to read the map in the headlights – no fears of anyone running me over as I had not seen a living soul for more than three hours. But no matter how hard I tried, squatting and squinting, moving the map back and forth in the headlights, I was not able to read this map in these circumstances. Complete failure, I was shocked, feeling a new awareness of my failing night vision and a having very unnerving glimpse of my own mortality.

I started driving down the empty highway again, attempting to follow the half-remembered verbal directions and counting on my good directional sense. I decided if I just turned left at the first available exit (incredibly again, not marked with any signage. Apparently in Canada you should know where you are going, or you shouldn’t be there.) and kept driving down what by now were two-lane gravel backcountry roads, still without a single dwelling or shed or any other sign of human occupation. I estimated that if I kept going straight ahead I would eventually run out of land and there would have to be some sort of habitation on the coast.

By now it is very late at night for a rural area, but my strategy actually worked. After driving through all these interminable trees for another half-hour or so I saw the headlights of another car coming toward me and I pulled my car into the middle of the two-lane road, then got out and stood in my own headlights in as unthreatening a posture as I could find, until the driver slowly rolled up and I could ask him were I was and how to find Mabou. Extraordinarily, and fortunately, all of my guesses had been good, and I was only about 15 minutes away from Mabou.

Wikipedia tells us that Mabou is a “…small Canadian rural community located in Inverness County on the west coast of Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton Island. The population in 2011 was 1,207 residents. During the late 19th century and the first half of the 20th century Mabou’s primary economic activity was underground coal mining with several collieries located in the surrounding area. The Inverness and Richmond Railway opened in 1901 to connect the mines in Mabou and Inverness to wharves in Mabou and Port Hastings. Mining activity ceased following World War II and the railway was abandoned during the late 1980s. Today Mabou is primarily a fishing port for a small fleet of lobster boats. It also hosts a high school serving central Inverness County. It is also a very strong community with many farms….”

But these events happened before home computers were commonplace, or before the internet, Wikipedia, and cell-phones existed. Back then all I knew about Mabou was that it was too small to even have a drug-store, as I remembered that Robert had taught photography to a group of women in a local adult-education class, and they had had to send their film to a drug store in a larger town down the road to be developed. That night as I drove down the main street of Mabou, there was no neon signs, no stop-lights, no roadside motels, or gas stations, very few commercial signs, or any cluster of commercial buildings as you would find in any American town of comparable age and size. Just a scattering of dark, mostly wooden, poorly lit buildings; reminding me again of that other trip that I took as a child to the far north of Western Canada, where we drove to a Hudson Bay trading-post at the very edge of the penetration of European civilization into the northern wilderness.

Everything in Mabou was closed at that time of night, but following Robert’s written instructions, I found the correct street signs and then found the road his house was supposed to be on, and I followed it for a mile or so while driving out of the town again. The omnipresent trees had thinned out, thank God, but it is still so dark I could not see anything on my left side at all as I passed the occasional farmhouse on my right. Then, just as I had driven what seemed too far and I was beginning to feel lost again, I came to a brightly-lit house backed up into a hill, with five or six cars scattered along the driveway leading up to the door. It was about 3:00 a. m., and anything going on at this time of night felt a little dodgy, but I drove up the driveway, and following fragmented memories of back-country protocol, I got out of the car, walked up to about ten feet from the front door and called out to the house.

A long pause, and a young man finally opened the door. The living room was full of six or seven other men, all apparently drinking beer and watching television. Checkered shirts, work-boots, gimmie-hats; this was a fairly rough-looking group – and with fragments of Deliverance flashing through my mind, I apologized for disturbing them and very politely asked if anyone knew of someone named Robert Frank and where he lived. Another very long pause, while the man at the door was clearly making up his mind whether to answer me or tell me to fuck off. Then, finally, with what seemed to be great reluctance, he told me Frank lived in the next house, about a half mile further down the road.

I thanked him, got back into the car, and drove up to Frank’s house. Frank was still up and waiting for me in his kitchen. As he welcomed me, I apologized for being so late, but just said that the flight had been delayed and mentioned something about his neighbor being helpful. But I was clearly spooked, tired, and hungry; and without much conversation, Frank quickly cooked me some delicious bacon and eggs on his cast-iron wood-fired stove, then showed me to a bed in a small upstairs room, where I immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

I woke up the next morning, in a plain, dun-colored room; almost empty except for the bed and in the middle of one wall a luminescent, brilliant blue abstract rectangle, which as I muzzily watched, seemed to be in a slow motion; with irregular lacy white bands appearing at the top of the frame, then calmly and steadily rolling down the picture plane and disappearing out the bottom edge. I lay there mesmerized by this visual wonder that Mr. Frank had somehow provided for my morning entertainment, before my sluggish wits kicked into gear and I realized that I was watching waves lazily rolling on the bay that Frank’s house looked out on. From the position I was at in the room, the window framed only a patch of constantly moving water, without any horizon or shoreline to situate the image. Last night had been so dark and my attention so focused on finding Frank’s house on the right side of the road that I had driven past several miles of open water on the left without consciously realizing it. Even as my rational faculties worked out what was happening, my sense of wonder at this rhythmically calming, quietly beautiful, visual event kept me attentive and appreciative of the beginning of this new day.

Windows have somehow always held a vivid place in my memory. Long before I became a student of photographic practice, (Where I learned that the frame — what to leave in, what to leave out, how to balance the shapes and spaces within the picture against its edges — is a most, perhaps the most, important tool for a picture-maker.) my strongest recollections of childhood were frequently focused around a window.

And all echoes of my past resonating through last night’s drive brought back one of the most vivid memories of my childhood to me. Our family had travelled widely through the United States, Canada and South America when I was a child, but we always went back to my mother’s father’s farm in Oklahoma between these assignments, and that was, I suppose, where it most felt like home. This was in the 1940’s and 1950’s, but my grandfather’s farm still had many of the characteristics of an earlier age. My grandfather’s farm was in south-central Oklahoma, a little south of the small town of Comanche, literally located on the old Chisum Trail where they had driven cattle up from Texas to the Abilene, Kansas stockyards from the 1860s to 1880s. Later a branch of the Kansas-Pacific railroad had been built along that route and my grandfather used that railroad to deliver his own cattle to the stock-yards. When my grandfather was younger he ran cattle; apparently (From an old photograph I once saw.) enough cattle to rent cattle-cars on the railroad every year, hire some boys or young men to ride on top of the cars to poke them through the slats with long sticks to keep them safely on their feet during the ride, (Hence, I assume, the terms “Cow Pokes,” or “Cow-punchers.”) and deliver them to the stockyards in Kansas. By the time I was growing up all this was reduced to a herd of about twenty head — not a lot by local standards, and the homestead was more diversified, growing corn and other crops. Each time we came back to the farm, it was reduced or changed a little. More acreage sold, the remaining fields rented out to younger farmers, the horses gone, then the mules he used to plow the cornfields and haul his wagon disappeared, the pigs replaced by easier-to-manage chickens, etc. The farm was coming close to the end of its natural cycle, as was my grandfather; who had raised a family, kept everything going and together through the Great Depression as so much of Oklahoma dried up and blew away, then lost his wife, and was himself grown old. His children, or all the sisters, including my mother, were patiently waiting for this natural event to play out, but I was, of course, too young to know what was going on.

My grandfather built the first brick private dwelling in that part of the world, the bricks brought in on the new railroad. Almost all the other farm houses then, ranging from shacks to larger well-built dwellings, were made of wood. Again, unusual for the place and time, the farmhouse had two stories and a round tower with deeply curved, now irreplaceably expensive windows that were a constant source of worry for my mother (and me, just a little) that I would somehow break them or shoot them with my Daisy Red Ryder bee-bee rifle. (I had already shot out the large plate glass window in the front door, while attempting to demonstrate that the gun was absolutely empty and therefore not dangerous in the house.) Curiously, no one took the gun away from me, or even punished me, as it was clear that I had already manifestly learned the lesson not to point any gun – even an unloaded gun – at anyone for any reason. In fact, I can’t remember ever being physically punished for anything, just a long quiet talk from my mother if I had done something wrong. From what I’ve since read or heard, that seems to be a very “Indian” way of doing things. (My grandmother was part Choctaw.) On the farm there was a telephone, but no electricity, so at night the house was lit by kerosene lanterns, cleaned and filled every day by my mother – a chore she had had since childhood.

My bedroom was upstairs, and the only occupied room on that floor at that time. Every day, just before dark I climbed the stairs, scurried through the windowless dim hallway with the mysterious and scary black stain on one wall, and reached the safety of my bed, eventually to go to sleep to be wakened by the sunlight coming through the window the next morning. The single window faced the back of the house and my view took in the various structures of a working farm: outhouse, sheds, pig pens and the stable and corral and then the rolling fields of the “back forty.”

Most of the time my grandfather’s farm was a place of tans and duns. Red earth, gnarled grey-brown Post Oak trees, seared yellow grasses were the colors dominating the hot, dry summers and the cold, dry winters. Not a barren or ugly land, but it provided only a spare and contained beauty to the eye most of the year. But in the spring, if we had been lucky with the rain, the land could briefly blossom. Burned in my memory, much more strongly than more consequential things from that time, is the spring day that I woke up and saw the window frame a vivid rectangle of verdant green. The rains had brought the grass into life again overnight and meadows behind house presented a startlingly vibrant, almost pulsating, landscape so different from all those views that had presented themselves through the long, grey winter. The brightness didn’t last for long, a day or so before the colors muted down and the dust took off the bright edge, but those few days were enough to build the strength to get through the summer once again.

Waking up again to another vivid landscape somehow wiped out all the frustrations and anxieties of yesterday and I felt calm and positive as I dressed, went downstairs and found Mr. Frank quietly engaged in the household economics of gradually battening down the hatches of his home before the winter weather closed in.

As Mr. Frank cooked up another breakfast I looked around his house. I was again forcefully reminded of my grandfather’s farm. Frank had electricity and running water, but much of the house resembled my grandfather’s. The furnishings were utilitarian and rather spare, a bit worn with age and usage. An old wooden-cased clock on the mantle and a few knickknacks, which had drawn a momentary attention or embodied the memory of some small event, were randomly scattered about. Most notably, there were no photographs on the walls, none by Mr. Frank or by anyone else. I don’t remember any specific pictures at all, but if there were any pictures, they would have been inexpensive commercial reproductions of mundane scenes by anonymous painters. The radio, critical for the weather and the news and entertainment through the long winter nights, was in the kitchen, which would be the warmest room in the house, which was also occupied by a sink, the cast-iron stove, a small table and a few chairs and a scattering of useful or needed tools or utilities, such as a shovel or heavy boots close to hand in some corner.

We sat down to breakfast and loosely planned out the day’s activities. And this new day was glorious: a light-filled day – sparkling, with crisp, bright, autumn weather, the sky a deep blue from horizon to horizon, so clear that you could see Prince Edward Island across the Bay – something that happens about once every forty years, or so Mr. Frank told me. It was a wonderful day, and far too nice to spend it inside huddled over a tape-recorder asking and answering arcane questions about almost forgotten past events. After breakfast and a short, desultory interview, Mr. Frank and I played hooky.

I began to help him with some of the endless chores attendant to rural living, such as splitting wood for the stove, etc. To my chagrin this skill, which once I had mastered fairly well, had eroded so that I was clumsy and awkward with the axe, and after a while Mr. Frank politically and gracefully got it out of my hands before I did some damage to something other than some chunks of wood. Then while Mr. Frank worked on some more of his chores, I spent some time wandering around the homestead; hiking out of the yard and uphill into the trees behind the farmhouse, just scouting around, taking in the general lay of the land. I later tried to write about this experience, but never really got it down on paper to my satisfaction:

“Robert Frank lives in Nova Scotia, a few miles outside of Mabou, in a farmhouse half way up a hillside facing the sea. The hill slopes fairly steeply down to the sea in front; behind the land continues several hundred yards higher to crest, then breaks into dips and rolls, with the interior hollows filled with heavy timber. At another place you would want to head upslope to go over into the woods nestled behind the first hill, but at Mabou your gaze is always drawn out to the sea, and it takes an effort to look behind you and up.
This farm was once an early settler’s homestead, a narrow frontage extending back from the ocean for several acres into the woodlands. At some point the acreage facing the ocean was cleared for farming, then later, when the farm was abandoned, let go back into scrub brush. Frank told me he accidentally set a blaze while burning garbage when he first moved in years ago. The quick winds up there immediately whipped it into a dangerous grass fire. Everyone for miles around turned up to put the fire out, just before it reached the next farmstead – an effective, if embarrassing way to meet your neighbors.
Now the ocean-facing slope is covered with tall grass and a scattering of younger volunteer evergreens. The heavy woods behind the first hill sit there quietly accruing beauty and value, as Frank doesn’t do any serious logging. There isn’t a lot of money to be made in Mabou now anyway – the mines are played out; the farming, on this cold, rocky land, is at a sustenance level; the logging is exhausted; the sea provides some fishing, but not enough for heavy industry, and it’s just a little too far off the beaten track for Canada’s tourism promotion to be all that successful. The people who do manage to make a life up there seem to know each other fairly well, and they hold to a sense of community which seems left over from an earlier time.
Frank is considered to be a valuable member of this community, although probably not for the same reasons he is accorded value in the world of art – even though he once did teach photography to the ladies who signed up at the local adult education program; using Diana cameras and mailing the negatives off to be developed in a bigger town forty miles away. Nevertheless, it’s clear that Frank finds this acceptance both valuable and nourishing to his own sense of worth. That nourishment, and the nourishment he takes from looking out to the ocean, have kept him at Mabou, a place not easily hospitable to outsiders, for many years now.
Another nourishment sustains Frank at Mabou as well. Robert is quietly competent in the ordinary skills common to a rural economy – cooking on a wood stove, chopping the wood to fuel the stove and heat his house, repairing the house, and rebuilding the homestead. These skills are everyday fare to his neighbors, but represent hard-learned lessons, learned late in life by the city-dwelling son of a wealthy Swiss businessman. I think Robert’s competence in the complexities of living in a hard land helps him feel closer to the kind of reality he prefers to inhabit, which he finds in Mabou.
His wife, June Leaf, has built a fine forge on the farm, where she can create those wonderful metal sculptures which are so full of grace and power, and size them to any scale she chooses – not like the loft in New York, where she has either to paint canvases or work small.
Robert has also made sculptures in Mabou, though he won’t admit it, preferring to identify them as collections of found driftwood logs and rocks, which he has simply piled together at scattered spots around his homestead. Robert doesn’t have a philosophy about these structures, he just likes to build them from time to time. But, in a place where very little is wasted or in excess, they do seem to provide several valuable services. For one thing, they offer surfaces for the eye to focus on at a near distance and so provide some relief from the constant draw of the water. Then again, the seemingly random scattering of these structures around the house and outbuildings of the farm is deceptive, for they are actually sited like rifle pits, commanding and protecting all the entrances to the homestead – talisman barriers designed to deflect or impede malevolent invasion. These constructions are a realized metaphor for what Robert readily admits – that Mabou is the place where he and June come to rest, away from the other, more modern complexities of the outside world.
There is a small outcrop of rock a few hundred feet upslope from the house and off to the left. One of June’s drawings, of two hands flexing open into wings, is cut into the rock, along with Robert’s daughter’s name and the dates of her birth and death. It’s really just a boulder about the height of a man, neither very noticeable nor prominent, which has broken through the scarf of the soil at that spot. But there you will always find a clear, unbroken view of the sea.”

From: “Souvenirs. Mabou.” The Pictures are a Necessity: Robert Frank in Rochester, November 1988, edited and published by William S. Johnson. “Occasional Papers No. 2.” Rochester Film & Photo Consortium. University Educational Services. International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, NY: 1989.]

Later in the afternoon we got into Frank’s car and drove around a bit, to see the countryside and meet some of the people who lived there. Mr. Frank would occasionally stop the car at a chance encounter and introduce me to someone that he knew. The most vivid of these in my memory now was a man walking down a back-country road. He was probably in his seventies or eighties, with a full white beard and matching head of wild white hair capped with a Scotch bonnet, and dressed in a kilt. We stopped the car, Frank introduced me to him and offered a ride, which the man politely refused in a Scottish brogue so thick that I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. After all, Nova Scotia does mean “New Scotland,” and apparently there was some history that was now embodied by this individual.

As we drove around in that still, pellucid, crisp, amazing afternoon, briefly meeting a few people here and there, (All of the others spoke an English I could understand, and all of them commented on the gift of this amazing day.) I noted but was not shocked by the spareness or even poverty displayed by some of these farmhouses in Canada. The country just seemed to me, perhaps inaccurately, to be just a few decades behind the United States in its evolution into the contemporary world, although my own experience of moving through a rural world into urban America may have buffered the disparities that Frank was displaying to me. A more “sophisticated” big-city resident might have been shocked by the stripped, hard lives that I was being shown. As we drove around I gradually understood that Mr. Frank was showing me the wonderful diversity and character of the people living in his rural community. Frank would later bring the characteristics of this landscape and its peoples into creative play when he made the film Candy Mountain which was shot in and around Mabou, with a mix of amateur actors and local characters.

Then we drove into Mabou to the Co-op (a square wooden barn of a building, mostly empty, but with a scattering of foodstuffs and household supplies) to pick up some groceries, and then down to the local docks to meet the lobster boats which were just coming in with that day’s catch, to buy some fresh lobsters for dinner. There, while giving a brief explanation as to why a stranger was with him, Robert introduced me, ironically, as “Mr. Polaroid” to the captain as he was tying up his boat. The captain, flushed with what seemed to be a combination of native pride and a distain for large American corporations, impetuously handed us a brace of lobsters and, over our protestations, refused to take any payment. Back at his house, Robert built a fire outdoors and set up a cookpot to steam the lobsters and then we sat in the gathering dusk, eating lobster and corn and watching the sun set “…on a wonderful October Sunday in Mabou in 1984,…” The day had been so extraordinary, the clusters of small meetings and events so mundane yet so absolutely meaningful, that the day seemed complete and whole in itself. I didn’t attempt any more questions, went to bed early, and slept through the night. (Unusual for me).

The next morning Mr. Frank dug up this photograph from somewhere, wrote the note commemorating the wonderful nature of the previous day, and gave it to me as I left to return to Boston. The trip back to Boston was routine, without incident, allowing me the time to depressurize and return to the concerns of the everyday.

As so often with Mr. Frank, the gift of this particular print to me represents a metaphor about our relationship at that time, as it references the ideas I was attempting to identify and feature within the body of his work in the exhibition – his breaking the tyranny of the perfect Modernist frame and also of the photojournalist’s “decisive moment” through his use of sequence, fostering the idea of the photograph as a crafted object rather than a “window” as Mr. Szarkowski had put it. Frank’s restructuring the medium so as to deliberately bring abstract concepts like memory, loss and longing, hope and hope deferred, into the operative emotional range of a still photograph and developing a style which could create types of emotion and feeling that extended beyond the subject content of traditional photographs. All issues which have been thoroughly discussed in the critical literature during the past 30 years, but which, as far as I know, had not been mentioned by anyone at the time. I was struggling to develop a coherent understanding of some of these ideas about the work for myself during this time, but Frank summed them up in one quick intuitive act and gave me the present of the photograph to memorialize the issue.

II.

“U.S. 90, en route to Del Rio, Texas, 1955-1956.” Three image strip. (Frank’s wife and children sleeping in car at the side of the road in first two images, truck stop sign in third image.) Reproduced on p. 53 in ARTFORUM 33:3 (Nov. 1994). Our copy has the following inscription: “Dear William and Susie and Bethanie and Joshua. Wishing you good luck – wherever it goes…. from “old man” Robert.”
I can’t remember the exact circumstances of Mr. Frank’s gift of this photograph to us, but it must have been during one of his stops in Boston during the time of the project. Susie and I were living in an apartment in Belmont, a suburb of Boston, and Mr. Frank visited us there several times during that time, stopping over when flying up or back from Mabou, or coming to Boston in response to some aspect of the project.

The dedication on the photograph names “Bethanie” and “Joshua.” “Joshua” is Susie’s and my son, who was born in the mid-point of the project, and who was bundled up and carried around by either Susie or me to a lot of these meetings, and so was well-known to everyone involved. “Bethany” is the youngest of my three children from a first marriage, then living with her mother and brother in Austen, Texas; but who was staying with us at the time. She would have been about 13 or 14, and in her “punk” phase. She has a strong, smart, creative personality and she and Mr. Frank got along very well, which is the reason for his dedication on the photograph.

The following information is not directly associated with the photograph, but of collateral interest, in a sense. A year or so later Bethany ran away from her home in Texas, somehow got to New York City and lived there on the streets for some time – for about six months. She refused to let her mother even know she was still alive and kept only the most tentative contact with me, and only if I promised not to tell her mother where she was. I did not know any of the names of her friends, or where she was living – only that she seemed to be based somewhere in the Greenwich Village area of Lower Manhattan. Literally the only person I knew in New York City at that time was Robert Frank and I knew that he spent a lot of time walking around in his neighborhood, and so I asked him to just keep an eye out for her. It seemed highly improbable that he would ever find her, but he promised to keep a watch. And they did run into each other. Bethany also knew Mr. Frank and found out that her knowing him gave her some sort of street credibility among the people she was with, as they knew he was a famous artist. So Bethany and Robert would talk from time to time and Mr. Frank would call to let me know she was still alive and healthy. This most fragile of connections was what sustained our hopes for her safety during this period. Finally, Bethany relented a little, came to live with us in Belmont for a while, and eventually went back to Texas to stay with her mother.


III.

“Mabou, 1978.” [Clock reflection in window looking over Mabou landscape. Reproduced on p. 143 in Robert Frank, Moving Out. with inscription “For Bill Johnson – Robert Frank, 1991.”

The end point of the collaboration project between the four photographers and Susie and me was to have been a major exhibition and a book. We later published a document of the project, (Horses, Sea Lions, and Other Creatures: Robert Frank, Dave Heath, Robert Heinecken and John Wood, by Susan E. Cohen and William S. Johnson. Belmont, MA: Joshua Press, 1986. 242 pp., 36 35mm slides bound‑in. Limited edition, 16 copies, printed on an IBM‑AT computer, with WordStar 2000 software.) on a very early desk-top computer. That book explains the conception, process and aftermath of the project in greater detail.

The exhibition was to include the work that the artists had each generated for the project as well as a targeted selection of their retrospective work. To that end the photographers had each sent their collaborative work as well as a selection of 50 or 60 of their earlier photographs which we had selected together to the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, NY, which was to be the venue for hosting the travelling show. The exhibition was laid out and in the process of being framed when administrative changes at Polaroid, the parent company funding the project, caused the process to pause, and later to stop. We held the photographs at the Workshop for almost a year and a half, until it was absolutely certain that the funding for the exhibition had failed, and then I returned all of their photographs to the artists; then bundled up the other materials and leavings, put them into my closet, and tried to come to grips with the waste of essentially two or more years of work. What was and still is amazing to me was that the artists, who had freely donated their own time and energy to the project, had not turned sour or vindictive during this fraught and uncertain period of delays, and that they were all, each in their own way, extraordinarily supportive and generous to Susie and me throughout the process and even after its failure.

After we had acknowledged the end of the project, we then all turned to the business of living and earning a living, and went our separate ways. I had received a ridiculously small NEH grant to write a “guide” to photographic literature, which enabled me to buy one of the first commercially available desk-top computers (with a 20 megabite hard drive, – my God, the power!) on which we then – probably illegally in terms of the grant – wrote Horses, Sea Lions, and Other Creatures:… and on which I started compiling the bibliography for what would later become the 962 pp. Nineteenth‑Century Photography: An Annotated Bibliography, 1839‑1879., which is acknowledged to be a major reference resource by those people who care about that stuff. So the NEH never got its 90 page “Guide” but it did fund some other interesting stuff, and the poor harassed fund manager eventually got his taxpayer’s money’s worth after all.

Susie and I then moved to Rochester, NY for me to take up the newly created position of Director (later Coordinator) of University Educational Services at the George Eastman House. In that position I organized a variety of projects and programs for the consortium of universities that funded the position. Among these projects I initiated and coordinated a semester-long seminar on Robert Frank and, using my same computer, – computers were still not common and the Eastman house didn’t yet have any except in their Financial Office – put together and published the Occasional Papers No. 2. The Pictures Are A Necessity: Robert Frank in Rochester, NY November 1988. Edited by William S. Johnson. Essays by Susan E. Cohen, Jan‑Christopher Horak, William S. Johnson, Tina Olsen Lent. Bibliography by Stuart A. Alexander. (Jan. 1989) which has been described as: –“This scarce and much sought-after volume is the result of a film festival, seminar, and workshop with Robert Frank. It includes original articles on Frank and a lengthy interview.”

The seminar, open to anyone in the three consortium schools, consisted of showing all of Frank’s films throughout the semester, combined with lectures on the politics, culture, and the arts of the 1950s by various faculty members from these institutions, then capped with a two-day, all-day long meeting with Frank, who talked to the group about some photos taped to the walls and responded to questions from the well-informed and primed seminar audience. All of this was videotaped and transcribed into the self-published Occasional Papers No. 2, which was distributed free to the consortium members. Much of the materials in Susie and my essays were taken from the earlier Horses, Sea Lions, and Other Creatures….

Then, as happens, I didn’t have much to do with Mr. Frank for a while, although he had rather tentatively inquired at one point about the possibility of placing his archive at the George Eastman House and even wrote me that if he died tomorrow his lawyers had been instructed to do so, but I suggested he wait on the notion, as the institution was going through some tumultuous times and seemed to be facing an uncertain future at that moment. I knew that he had offered the materials to MOMA at one time and possibly elsewhere as well, and then changed his mind, so I did not take the offer that seriously anyway. I believe he finally wound up placing these materials at the Smithsonian in Washington.

However, sometime around 1991 I had to go to New York City for some other reason I now forget and I called Mr. Frank up and arranged for a visit. From time to time different people who had known about the “Polaroid Project” had suggested I try to get the book published separately, but I had resisted the idea of returning to that failed project. However, I had finally gotten over my own negative feelings and decided that I should at least get the permission of the artists before I approached anyone else. My purpose for the visit was to ask if he would mind if I approached any publishers with the book.

When I got to Mr. Frank’s Bleeker Street loft I found that he had cleared the afternoon for me, but it was apparent that he was very engaged in other projects; one of which was selecting the photographs for the forthcoming book Robert Frank, Moving Out, and there were dozens of beautiful prints leaning against the walls all around the perimeter of his living room. After he agreed that it would be O. K. with him if I tried to get a publisher for the “Polaroid Project” book, he walked over to the far wall and picked out two photographs, brought them back to me and said “Choose one.” Both of the prints were new to me, and neither had yet been published. I was completely surprised and a little flustered, but instantly decided on the following print, which I immediately and have always thought was both beautiful and profound.

However I did not select the print immediately, because the other print held a personal echo for me. I will have to describe the other print, for, as far as I know, it has never been published. It, like the clock reflection, was a vertical print, and also an interior at Mabou, depicting a corner of what may have been the same mantel that is reflected in the clock-window photograph. On the otherwise spare surface of the mantel a small cluster of nondescript items – a ceramic figurine, perhaps a postcard, or one of those glass balls with snow that you shake – sort of a small litter of tourist memorabilia – were casually gathered together. The framing was casual, the view slightly tilted, the focus was softened, and the image was printed in a muted monochrome, the actual subject of the items not important, so much as the mood of the photograph. The personal echo for me came from the fact that I had written about something like this before, and I knew that Mr. Frank had read what I wrote, because he had referred to the statement in a later conversation -something he otherwise never did during the period of our interviews for the project.

“Not too long ago a small work appeared on the wall of the kitchen of Robert Frank’s New York City loft. Tucked between the coat-hooks and the corner, yet somehow fitting in, the piece consisted of three small pictures grouped together. The first was a small, – perhaps six to nine inch – square, oil painting. It was a portrait of a woman, it was obviously European, it was obviously old and it was set into an elegant, deeply—flared gold frame. Under this lovely miniature portrait was another small painting. This one was an unframed landscape – cruder, the work of a charming amateur. Tucked together with these two paintings was a snapshot photograph of an older woman.
These three items seemed almost casually placed together, but they were so arranged that they presented themselves to the eye as one visual unit. And somehow the same casual deftness that had created a sense of unity among these three items had also set up a kinetic or spatial or spiritual dynamic on the wall so that in a mysterious sense these pieces took on an iconic feeling. In some undefinable but definite manner that corner of the room held the flavor of a simple, unobtrusive shrine. Shrine is too strong a word – rather the place gave the sense of the French souvenir – a memory, a recollection, a remembrance.
I can’t explain how Frank tucked these items together so that they were able to establish this emotional aura; all I can do is report that they did so. Separately presented, each piece would have roused a sense of curiosity about the subject and possibly a note of interest in the individual work. Placed together as they were, the separate items conjoined to establish an associative context, create a chord of feeling, build the possibility of a history, and allude to a sense of a past and of memory.
When pressed, Frank admitted that the photograph was a portrait of his mother, that she had painted the landscape, and that the older canvas had once belonged to her. Frank had brought these three small pieces back with him when he returned from his mother’s funeral in Switzerland not long before.
This particular creative statement by Frank was essentially a private act rather than a public gesture. He put this piece up on the wall of his kitchen for his own purpose and to meet his own needs. And, given the fluid nature of the objects that inhabit the New York loft space, this souvenir may not stay where it is for very long. Yet bound up in this simple, unpretentious work are many issues of importance to Frank’s strength as an artist.
Frank must have brought a mingled body of attitudes and sensibilities into play while he was putting this piece together. By creating this little memorial he was enacting a small act of veneration, or at least acknowledging the reality of the emotional power that this subject held for him. (Since the subject is his mother and his own past that’s not at all unusual.) Frank was spiritually acknowledging his sense of loss at her absence and the paradoxical presence of her in his thoughts in a specifically physical way, through the creation of the souvenir. At the same time the act of energy and emotion directed toward the creation of the souvenir also allowed him a means of directing and controlling the larger, more diffuse emotion of his loss into some more coherent and manageable pattern.
Robert Frank lives very close to his emotions. He doesn’t seem to box them out or damp them down as far as many people do. He inhabits a terrain that would be too tough for many and which is, I suspect, very tough for him from time to time. He has often stated that his real work can only come out of what he knows. The implication, not hidden very deeply, is that his best work can only come out of what he feels. On occasion Frank expresses some distress that his work is so much based on his own self, so tied to his own biography; but, in reality, he fully understands that the singular power of his work is based in precisely this area.

“Souvenirs. New York.” The Knute Rockne Oasis Newsletter & Journal of Critical Opinion. 1:7 (July, 1984): 1-2. Republished in The Pictures are a Necessity: Robert Frank in Rochester, November 1988, edited and published by William S. Johnson. “Occasional Papers No. 2.” Rochester Film & Photo Consortium. University Educational Services. International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, NY: 1989.

So I stood there holding the two prints and pretending to choose between them, while, in fact, looking at the one photograph for as long as I could, because I suspected, (correctly, as it turned out.) that I would never see it again. After attempting to memorize the print for what seemed to be a very long time and what may have actually been a couple of minutes, – which was a very long time under the circumstances – I handed the other, better photograph to Mr. Frank. The memorabilia photograph was not a bad photograph, but it just did not have the power of the one I chose. I felt that Mr. Frank seemed slightly disappointed at my decision to ignore the implied personal reference in the one photograph, as was I; but he put the photograph I chose in a protective package and we went out to lunch and then over to browse in a bookstore before I left to return back to Rochester.

Earlier in the day Mr. Frank had told me he was starting to put together a new movie, and the only other interesting thing that happened that day was that he saw a young woman in the bookstore and he approached her and asked if she had been able to talk to her boyfriend about meeting with Frank to talk about playing the lead role in the movie he was starting to put together. This seemed to me to be a very casual way to organize a film, but one that seemed to work for Mr. Frank.

I suppose that for the conclusion of this narrative I should say that, other than getting the permission of the other artists as well, I actually never did approach any publisher to try to get the book published until one day in 2014, as Tate Shaw, the new director of the Visual Studies Workshop, and I were having a casual conversation, he brought up the subject again and volunteered to try to find a way to get the book published. After some research, Tate realized that the Workshop did not have the resources to fund this large an effort, and then, with Nathen Lyons, he helped introduce the idea of the project to Jessica McDonald, curator of photography at the Ransom Center, University of Texas, Austin.

Jessica responded in a positive manner, and, after a little time, the “Polaroid Archive” of research materials, notes and correspondence, and artworks associated with this project, which had languished in banker’s boxes in my closet for so long, was, to my gratitude, transferred into a public institution where it could receive proper care and be made more accessible to people in the future.

It was only then, years later, while going through those materials to prepare them for the Ransom Center that I found a notecard from Mr. Frank (He sent notes or short letters to Susie and me from time to time long after the “Polaroid Project” officially ended.) which had been tightly folded and which I had failed to open properly , which stated that he “owed” me a photograph. I now assume that he thought I had come to visit him to pick up the photograph, when in actuality I had not known anything about it. That was the last time I actually met with Mr. Frank; both he and I had gone on to other things and, except for an occasional Christmas or birthday card, we never really interacted after that. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even know his son had died until several years later.