This is a 1943 drawing of the Pi Beta Phi Sorority House in Vermillion, South Dakota. I am unrolling and flattening one tube of drawings and floorplans every week and am hoping to have this donation ready for researchers next year.

Several items from the 1893 Columbian World’s Fair South Dakota Building are at the University of South Dakota, but not the very large visitor’s register. The photograph is from South Dakota at the World’s Fair. The Commission, 1894, call number CHILSON COLLECTION T500.F3 S68x . The book with this photograph plus other books about world fairs and expositions are in the Archives and Special Collections.

This collection is mainly correspondence about the Academy’s 1928-1930 annual meetings. The letters and programs make a stack of papers about an inch thick. This is one of the most fun collections I have processed. Members are so excited to tell each other what is new in science. At their 1928 banquet, they saw a demonstration of television. Archives and Special Collections also has 3 related publications: Proceedings of the South Dakota Academy of Science Science in the service of the state: a centennial history of the South Dakota Academy of Science Articles of incorporation and by-laws of the South Dakota Academy of Science. South Dakota Oral History Center has an interview with Charles Estee where he discusses the South Dakota Academy of Science and other topics. Occasionally when processing a collection, you will find things that are intriguing but completely off-topic. I found a 1928 letter written on Sioux Falls South Dakota Chamber of Commerce stationery which shows what they want you to notice about their city.

Well, this is it. It’s my last day. Today I get to turn in my key, submit my last time sheet, and clean up all my files on the computer, and I have to take home my sweater, wrist warmers, blanket, and refillable Einstein Bros. coffee mug . . . plus say goodbye to probably the coolest job ever and all the wonderful people I’ve worked with. The Archives and Special Collections has been an oasis for me through the grueling voyage of undergrad – tucked in the corner of the library, above the crowded sidewalks and away from the drama and stress of school. I started here the summer after my sophomore year, after miserably spending the previous summer as a waitress. I began as a temporary hire for Sarah, allotted 120 hours to put in basically whenever, doing a lot of photo identification and negative-sleeve making. But I also got to work with Jim Legg’s collection of slides from Wounded Knee during the volatility of the 1970s (wow!). When the fall semester started, Doris adopted me from Sarah. I began to make box labels instead of negative sleeves, pull boxes for patrons, make inventory lists of incoming collections, take the recycling down, and pick up the mail. Sure, a lot of my job involved removing rusty staples (yes, my tetanus shots are up-to-date), spending hours at the temperamental photocopy machine, and leafing through old Volante newspapers or yearbooks for an answer to a patron’s question. However, I did some pretty amazing things here, too. Simply working with the Mahoney Music Collection was a dream! – how did my two favorite things in the world, books and music, end up combined in the back of the USD library? Though I couldn’t work exclusively with this collection, there was almost always a little project with it to satiate me. Writing press releases, creating a LibGuide, managing the website records, creating little exhibits, helping patrons, and writing blog posts were just a few things. I was invited to just go back and browse the stacks if I wanted, to get to know the books, and I got to correspond with the donor, Dr. John P. Mahoney, and even meet him this summer! I met a lot of great books, too. And who knows? – maybe I’ll be back in a few years to do my own research with the collection. The archives have forever changed me. Now I can’t bring myself to use staples or tape on anything, and I have a mission to preserve all my photos in acid-free paper. I learned so much that I don’t think I can fit it all on a résumé. And, thanks to Sarah, I’ll never be able to listen to Kishi Bashi or Van Morrison without nostalgia of the archives. I will sorely miss everything and everyone here – how did I get so lucky? So what’s next? I have a couple more days in sunny Vermillion, then it’s off to Ohio, where I’ll be attending grad school for my master’s degree in music performance at Kent State (they have an Einstein Bros. too, so the mug comes with!). P.S. For the record: I never got the lights turned off on me in the back room. Once the power went out when I was back there, though, and the terrifying flickering before tipped me off. P.P.S. And my desk piggy’s coming, too! 🙂

Summer projects in the archives can be tedious, monotonous, and seemingly endless. Luckily (this time) I got something fun . . . The expansive Mahoney Music Collection is slowly being cataloged by the University library, and much of what is yet uncataloged lives in file cabinets and is simply called “Mahoney pamphlets” — though most items are small or fragile books that aren’t safe on the shelf. This summer, I have had the pleasure to spend quality time with these lonely books as I update their records on the Mahoney website. Until the remainder of the collection is cataloged, the website is the only source to see all 5000-plus items. It is very important, then, that our web records are accurate, especially for the books that aren’t yet in the library’s catalog system. Muammer Özergin, “Türklerde musiki aletleri” (Turkish musical instruments) Advertisment for “String of the masters : Wondertone” (c. 1940) John J. MacIntyre (Editor), “Fiddlestrings” magazine, 1920s Map of Cremona, Italy (1909) Charles Bauby (Editor), “Pau Casals : Festival Bach-Mozart-Beethoven” 1951 (Festival program featuring the “who’s who” of 20th-century musicians) Stage play by Max Maurey, “Le Stradivarius : comédie en un acte” 1921 Roland de Berton, “Wizard Violinist” 1910 J.W. Pepper catalog, 1909 Randolph Caldecott, “Hey diddle diddle and baby bunting” 1880s Article in Peterson Magazine, “Our women violinists” 1893 José Lleonart, “Paganini” 1942 (only 16cm/4.75in tall) Sheet music, “Celebrated witches’ dance” by Paganini, arranged for piano (1852) Article in Life Magazine, “Menuhin’s hands : Yehudi Meuhin ends retirement” 1937 Takashi Ishii, “Violin Hideyoshi heard” 1993 (written in Japanese Katakana text) Also stored in the pamphlets are small articles in magazines like Harper’s Weekly, Life, Scribner’s, Smithsonian, and People; concert programs from around the world; oversized monographs of antique, rare instruments by Stradivari or Amati with enormous photographs; instrument dealer catalogs and ephemera from the last 200 years; sheet music and method books both old and new, sometimes accompanied by vinyl recordings; and beautifully illustrated children’s books. The majority of books in the pamphlet collection are written in foreign languages, ranging from German and Italian to Japanese and Catalan. Translating information made my job slow sometimes but nonetheless fun (Google Translate is my new best friend). I certainly learned a lot more Italian, German, and French vocabulary, and just by reading titles and bits here and there I learned a lot of history, too. In the end, I went through around 930 items over the course of 2 months. For a summer project, this certainly was the best.

This year will mark the 175th anniversary of the death of the legendary violinist Nicoló Paganini. Regarded as the most famous violinist of all time, Paganini is remembered in history for his supreme virtuosity and technique, but his life is also shadowed in mystery and lore. Born in 1782, Paganini spent most of his childhood in Genoa, Italy, where he was taught music by his father, an amateur musician, and later by Giovanni Cervetto and Giacomo Costa. At age of 13 he was able to raise money to study for a year in Parma, where he studied composition — for, he had already mastered the violin. Later, Paganini found success in Lucca, though audiences criticized his unorthodox behavior on stage (playing jokes, such as animal sounds). Here he also found stable income playing alongside his brother, Carlo, in the republican orchestra. From 1810 onward Paganini toured Europe, playing and composing. More notable events include a series of romantic liaisons (with one he eloped; another gave him his only child, Achille Ciro Alessandro), the publications of his biography by Julius Schottky and a treatise on his technique by Carl Guhr, a late exploration of the solo viola, his appointment by Napoleon’s second wife as advisor to the ducal orchestra in Parma, and the founding of the “Casino Paganini” – a music venue in Paris where he was contracted to give two concerts a week. Throughout his life, Paganini was plagued by ill health, of which his relentless concert schedule was undoubtedly a factor. Julius Schottky, “Paganini’s leben und treiben als künstler und als mensch” (1830) His legacy includes works of all kinds for violin, viola, guitar, voice, orchestra, and chamber groups. Similarly to other virtuoso-composers, his music echoed his own style and abilities. His 24 Caprices are now not only standard repertoire for advanced violinists but violist and cellists as well, but when first published they were deemed “unplayable”. Overall, Paganini’s compositions make heavy use of harmonics, double-stops, left-hand pizzicato, ricochet bowing, and scordatura (tuning strings to other pitches). The reasons for Paganini’s virtuosity have been speculated upon since he was still living. Most famously, he was fabled to have sold his soul to the devil in exchange for such prowess. More modern explanations cite his unique posture as an advantage. Many have also posthumously diagnosed the violinist with Marfan Syndrome or another genetic disorder that would affect his anatomy, making his tricks with the violin easier. Whatever the reason for his talent, he has nonetheless been the subject of a number of stage and screen productions in the last century and countless written works. Carl Guhr, “Ueber Paganini’s Kunst die Violine zu Spielen” (1830) The Mahoney Music Collection is home to 248 items relating to Paganini, making him one of our largest subjects. Of that number are the first editions of the Guhr treatise and Schottky biography, both from 1830 (pictured), a couple of the earliest publications we have on Paganini. Though most of the items in the collection are biographies, there are also many journal and magazine articles, fiction works, and anecdotes regarding Paganini. Probably the most interesting find is a not-yet-cataloged, privately-published, personal collection of “Paganiniana” from author Geraldine de Courcy, apparently made up of items used when writing her book, “Paganini, the Genoese,” (1957) — which is, itself, in the Mahoney Music Collection. Information from Grove Music Online, “Paganini, Nicolo,” biography entry by Edward Neill.

USMC Lapel Pins The Archives and Special Collections invites you to view our display featuring military-related pieces from the William J. Janklow Papers. Items now on display include: • Marine Corps Jacket, two USMC lapel pins, and business cards from Governor and Congress • Longlive Friendship Plaque, gifted to Janklow by the Republic of China • Corning/Foss Award Plaque • Photograph of South Dakota Air National Guard A7Ds over Mount Rushmore • South Dakota World War II Memorial (Framed Color Picture, Framed Belt Buckles, and Engraved Stone) • Fallen Sons and Daughters of South Dakota in WWII books

The Archives and Special Collections invites you to check out our new display featuring pieces from the Mahoney Music Collection. Items now on display in front of the Archives include: Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 1st edition The Strad, Vol. 1 Portraits of Musical Celebrities, from Steinway & Sons (showing a testimonial from Franz Liszt) “The miracle makers: Stradivari, Guarneri, Olivera” Gabinetto armonico pieno d’instromenti ti sonori, indicati, spiegati, e di nuovo corretti ed accresciuti by Filippo Buonanni (1723) 1616 Map of Cremona, Italy (the oldest item in the Mahoney Music Collection)

John Phillip Sousa is widely known in the world of music as the “March King.” Yet, his prolific compositional career included operettas, songs, and suites in addition to the more famous 135 individual marches: et al. Sousa was more than an iconic American composer, though. As a child he studied at the Esputa Conservatory of Music learning violin, piano, voice, and a variety of brass instruments. When he was just thirteen years old, Sousa began an apprenticeship in the U.S. Marine Band, where he would work for the next seven years. Besides that, he simultaneously played professional violin in theater orchestras. He was a child prodigy, it seemed, and it took several years in the music scene for Sousa to give composition a try. For a number of years, John Phillip Sousa traveled in Vaudeville shows, composed in a variety of genres, conducted, and again played professional violin. In 1880 he was appointed conductor of the Marine Band, which flourished under his direction. After that he led a civilian band bearing his name, all the while continuing to compose. The “Sousa Band” toured the United States until the Great Depression, with a hiatus during World War I when Sousa worked for the Navy, also organizing bands. Yes, John Phillip Sousa was a truly remarkable fellow, but what does he have to do with the Archives and Special Collections department? Recently, while shelving books in the Mahoney Music Collection, a small, green book caught my attention in the “PS” – American literature – section. On the spine, under the title, gold letters read “John Phillip Sousa.” I had to investigate. In fact, Sousa wrote seven books and quite a lot of articles for magazines and journals. Who knew? This slideshow requires JavaScript. The particular volume I came across is entitled Our copy is of the first 1902 publication by the Bowen-Merrill Company. It retains its original forest-green binding and excellent, period cover art. Interestingly, the illustrations are by famed American artist Howard Chandler Christy (apparently, in financial difficulties he found illustrating more profitable than painting). His story is enticing –renowned Italian violinist Angelo Diotti finds himself in love with a cold New York society girl who is not impressed with his virtuosity in the least. Frustrated by his inadequacy, Diotti smashes his Stradavari violin in a rage and immediately is visited by the devil himself, who offers a replacement – a special violin with five strings. Each string is “tuned” to a specific emotion – love, joy, pity, hope. The fifth string is the string of death. According to the Prince of Darkness, “he who plays upon it dies at once.” Inconveniently, the string of death is situated in the middle of the other four. John Phillip Sousa paints a wonderful tale: it really took a masterful musician to write in such detail. To a musician reader, the specific writing makes for much more realism in the otherwise fable-like plot. It is also a portal to the music culture of turn-of-the-century America. We modern music students don’t learn much about that era. John Phillip Sousa, though, was very much in the midst of it all, and he allows us a short glimpse in with