A Christmas gift for Frederick W. Skiff

The writing in the book featured here comes from two sources--the author and the owner of the book. Further, the book was a Christmas gift from the author, as documented in the writing of both Frederick W. Skiff (owner) and Lilian Whiting (author).

The book is The Joy That No Man Taketh From You, by Lilian Whiting; Little, Brown, and Company; Boston (1907). The author's inscription:

To Frederick W. Skiff, Esq. with grateful appreciation of his most kind courtesy & the faithful regards of Lilian Whiting, Boston. Christmastide, 1916.

And she didn't stop there. On the next page (blank page before the half-title page) she quotes a passage from William Vaughn Moody:

From wounds and sore defeat
I made my battles stay,
Winged sandals for my feet,
I wove of my delay.


I guess it will be impossible to know what, if any, meaning that passage held for Mr. Skiff. Perhaps it was just something Ms. Whiting came across, liked, and thought to amend to her inscription.

And although Ms. Whiting thoroughly documented the presentation to "To Mr. Frederick W. Skiff, Esq." and the year and time of year with "Christmastide, 1916," Skiff desired to repeat the information in his own hand above his bookplate (and a touch on the bookplate):

Presented to me by Miss Whiting Christmas 1916 F.W.S.

That line of penciled inscription and its location is the icing on the cake for me.

Frederick W. Skiff (1867-1947), of Portland, Oregon, was a notable bibliophile and prolific collector of Americana. He also authored a few books: Adventures in Americana: Recollections of Forty Years Collecting Books, Furniture, China, Guns and Glass, Metropolitan Press, Portland, Oregon (1935) and Landmarks and Literature: An American Travelogue, also by Metropolitan Press (1937).

After Skiff died in 1947, his collection went to the San Francisco auction house of Butterfield & Butterfield, in San Francisco. The auction catalog (left) featured Skiff's bookplate.

William Fowler Hopson (1849-1935) was the Connecticut-born, American artist/engraver who created Skiff's ornate bookplate. Hopson was a well-known and well-respected artist, drawn (pardon the pun) to bookplate illustration. And if you've got a late 19th-century Webster's Unabridged Dictionary lying around, you might find between the covers a few thousand engravings by Hopson, who was commissioned to do the work.

A good bit of bookish history here thanks to the collective provenance provided by the writing found in this book.

Remembering JFK

November Twenty Six Nineteen Hundred Sixty Three is the title of a 1963 poem by Wendell Berry, comprising a single volume. Ben Shahn's illustrations were added to this 1964 Limited Edition publication by George Braziller.

The poem memorializes President Kennedy, who was assassinated November 22, 1963 and laid to rest on the 25th of November. The next day, November 26, Berry begins his elegy: "We know the winter earth upon the body of the young president, and the early dark falling..." The title refers to the day after John F. Kennedy's funeral and the collective mourning and reflection of a nation. 

Berry and artist Shahn both signed this limited edition copy of the book, which makes the book collectible. But it's the commemorative lines in a gift inscription from the book's previous owner that made the book collectible for me, as it captured the mood of a nation during that time. The sentiment of both poet and book owner symbolizes and echoes what a nation felt and struggled with in the aftermath of the death of a very popular president:

To commemorate the greatest personal tragedy we have ever known together--November 22, 1963.

For Elizabeth because I love her more than life itself and because we both--if from afar--loved John, Jr., Caroline, and Jacqueline, and J.F.K.

Carl
May 18, 1964

A newspaper clipping about the death of JFK was also laid in the book.

\

Writing about writing in books

Ain't nothin' new under the sun. I'm discovering that writing about writing in books, while new to me, is not new per se. But it has been referred to as one of the most dynamic new fields of study about book history.

I now have two books in my library that deal with the subject of writing in books: Marginalia: Readers Writing in Books, by H.J. Jackson (Yale, 2001) and Owners, Annotators and the Signs of Reading, by various contributors (Oak Knoll Press and the British Library, 2005).

These titles are scholarly studies (this blog is not, but this blogger is fascinated with the subject!) of primarily antiquarian books and examine the reading culture of the day through the annotations left behind by those affected enough by the material to do so. One of the goals of such research is gaining an understanding or better perspective of the context in which readers throughout history have interacted with contemporary writing. Such insight can lead to a deeper understanding of book-trade history.

As books enter the digital age, rendering obsolete the marginalia and annotation of texts, this academic research may also inform us about what we have already lost in our culture and portend what we stand to lose.

Jackson's book, Marginalia, is hailed as a "pioneering work--the first to examine the phenomenon of marginalia." Having only read the author's Introduction to this book, I can say that I like her style of writing with bits of humor and use of modern culture for frames of reference. Jackson's writing feels more accessible than the more formal conference papers of the other book mentioned. Her book has the better chance of the two in reaching a broader audience, but both are still concerned with a very narrow field of academic research.




Conference essays comprise Owners, Annotators and the Signs of Reading. The papers are from then 26th annual conference on book-trade history, held in December 2004, at Swedenborg House in Bloomsbury and, for the last time, at Birbeck College. H.J. Jackson, author of Marginalia, is also a contributor to this book.



This book's Introduction includes a paragraph that starts "How books should be read..." I stopped right there and got my pencil out. Instant recall from 10th grade English class made me do it. If I don't remember anything else from that class, I'll always remember Mrs. Brennan saying to her students more than 35 years ago that she could never read a book without a pencil and she encouraged her students to do the same thing. Write in the margins, underline passages, annotate. And so I reread the Introduction with a pencil in hand and noted my thoughts in writing.

One passage that puzzles me:

Annotation is likely to be, in all periods, a vital clue to the reader's thought processes in the mysterious act of reading.

I underlined mysterious and added a bit of marginalia with a question mark and suggestion of the word artful instead. There is a science to reading, surely, but in the context of this book and field of study, it seems that the art of reading, with respect to reader reaction and interaction with the text, is what yields the greatest insight to cultural and book history. Perhaps I don't understand the context in which the author views reading as mysterious. I'll have to give that one some more thought and annotation.


In addition to the books I have found on the subject of writing in books, I have also found various sites on the Internet that deal with the subject in one way or another. And all these sources give new meaning to the phrase Reading and Writing.

http://www.levenger.com/pagetemplates/wellreadlife/wellreadlifesubcat.asp?params=category=686-726|level=3-4|pageid=3221-4329

http://yalepress.yale.edu/yupbooks/book.asp?isbn=9780300088168

http://knowledge-in-the-making.mpiwg-berlin.mpg.de/knowledgeInTheMaking/de/index/Veranstaltungen/WritingInBooks.html

http://www.folger.edu/template.cfm?cid=2204

http://www.english.utoronto.ca/newsevents/calendar/_Magic_and_Margins__Children_Writing_in_Books__Medieval_to_Modern_.htm

http://www.uiowa.edu/~ctrbook/events/index.shtml

http://michigantoday.umich.edu/2009/09/story.php?id=7526

http://wynkendeworde.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-you-write-in-books.html

The first Bishop of Brownsville, Texas

I found the inscription above in a copy of the book, The Council, Reform and Reunion, by Hans Kung (Sheed & Ward, 1961). The book deals with the Catholic Church and ecumenical issues. The presentation signature, an unusual name, inspired a quick search for any connection to the author or the Catholic Church.

I found two prominent figures by the name of Adolph Marx. I was able to rule out this guy below pretty quickly. Harpo was not Catholic Bishop material, considering he was Jewish and didn't talk much (not at all in his movies).


The Adolph Marx who signed this book was the first Bishop of Brownsville, Texas. The photo below and following information were found in an online article by Travis Whitehead of the Brownsville Herald.

Bishop Adolph Marx, of Cologne, Germany, was appointed Brownsville's first bishop on July 6, 1965 and installed at his post Sept. 2.

"Shortly after he was installed as bishop, he left for Rome to attend the meetings of the Second Vatican Council," said Brenda Nettles Riojas, spokesperson for the Brownsville diocese.

The Second Vatican Council took place from 1962-1965 and was attended by bishops from throughout the world, said the Rev. Robert Maher, vicar general of the diocese and pastor at St. Joseph's Church in Edinburg.

"Pope John XXIII, who convened the council, said that he saw the secularized world in many ways in a state of spiritual poverty, and he saw that the church possessed a treasure of spiritual riches bequeathed by Christ," Maher said. "So he wanted to find new ways to bring the riches of the church to people today. And so he called for an updating of the church."

Marx's attendance of such a notable event would be short-lived, however; he died of a heart attack Nov. 1.

The article also mentions that Marx had been the Auxiliary Bishop in Corpus Christi, Texas. This information erased any doubt that this Marx was the one who signed the book because the book also contained this presentation card from Marx, which identifies him as Auxiliary Bishop of Corpus Christi (1962):

Fred Bason's 2nd Diary

I have a copy of Fred Bason's 2nd Diary, by Fred Bason, of course, but edited and with a Preface by L.A.G. Strong. The book was published in London by Wingate, 1952.


Fred Bason was a Cockney bookseller who published four diaries, among other works, about bookselling and his life. Known for his sense of humor, he had this to write to an anonymous reader of a copy of his 2nd diary (my copy now):

This is sold at a loss in a genuine endeavour to make one new friend. I am now entirely alone in this world--& that situation isn't pleasant.

There are said to be over 30 good laughs in this book. If you do not laugh I hope you will soon be well!

Very Sincerely
Fred Bason
1962

I did laugh. Read more about Fred Bason in this 1951 Time Magazine review of his first diary.

Things which the human mind cannot conceive

"Things which the human mind cannot conceive" is what a young student wrote in the back of this textbook, English Literature: A Guide to the Best Reading, by Edwin L. Miller, A.M. (J.B. Lippincott, 1917). He or she then provides a numbered list of such weighty matters:

1. Absolute
2. God
3. Time
4. Space
5. Mind
6. Force
7. Matter
8. Life


The writer of this list started to add a ninth item, but "the mind could not conceive" it to even list it, perhaps. This list sounds more appropriate for Philosophy 101, but it must have factored into one author's work and, therefore, a lesson that prompted this note taking. And underlining. And margin notes. The book is full of blue ink all the way through. Very studious this young person from around 1917.

The textbook's author was a high school principal in Detroit, so this was likely a high school textbook. The handwritten list at the back of the book, whether conceived by the student or dictated by a teacher, contains those inconceivable items that philosphers throughout the ages have tried to conceive. Did a high school student in Detroit in 1917 stand a chance?

For more on this book and its author: Archaeolibris

Dorothy Parker inscription

Today is writer Dorothy Parker's birthday. She was born in 1893 and died in 1967. One of my best finds on the bookscouting trail was a beat-up copy of After Such Pleasures, a 1933 collection of short stories. The torn and soiled book, which I later found a jacket for, belied the beauty inside--an inscription of gratitude from Dorothy Parker to someone at Presbyterian Hospital (New York?) for being "so darned nice."



I wrote on the Archaeolibris blog about how I found the book. Later, when I found the jacket, I added this post to the blog. Below is a little information repeated from those posts.

Signed copies of Parker's books are scarce, even more so for this title. For the cheap price of a junk book, this bargain table copy became my copy and I brought it home to research the mystery surrounding the inscription.

Parker inscribed the book:

"To Helen DeWitt-- Who was so darn nice to me-- Gratefully, Dorothy Parker Presbyterian Hospital January 16- (I think)"

I wish she had added the year to the date. It could be a contemporary inscription with regard to the book's second printing in 1933. Or it could be from Parker's last years when she was frequently in and out of hospitals--the 1960s. The ink would indicate a fountain pen, which would have been more consistent with the 1930s, though.

What of Helen DeWitt? She took good care of Parker at Presbyterian Hospital (New York, I assume), so likely she was a nurse or maybe just someone who crossed paths with Parker in a meaningful way that day. I also wonder if DeWitt already had the book and asked Parker to sign it, or did Parker send it to her as a thank you? And why that book?


Clues for nailing down the background on this inscription are thin, to say the least. I have a copy of her biography, You Might As Well Live, by John Keats (Simon & Schuster, 1970) and have researched it for clues. All I could find out about hospital stays is what I reported above--that she was a frequent patient in her final years in the 1960s. She lived from 1893-1967. A sardonic sense of humor and razor-sharp wit most often characterize her writing and personality, but happiness eluded her through several marriages, alcoholism, and suicide attempts. Her poem from Enough Rope (1926) is perhaps her best remembered:

Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

This poem was recited by Angelina Jolie in a scene from the film Girl Interrupted

That's a sad note to end this on after a birthday prompted the post, so I'll add Happy Birthday, Dorothy! (and wonder how many happy ones she really had).

Joan Marie hates Bernadette

Or so it would seem after viewing the hideous caricature of Bernadette by the angry young artist, Joan Marie.

Found in a 1908 school music book, Songs Every One Should Know, edited by Clifton Johnson, the rendering of Bernadette's likeness is featured in the back of the book. Joan Marie identifies herself in the front of the book by name and in no uncertain terms states that she owns the book ("Joan Marie owns it.").




I remember this kind of stuff when I was a kid and I'm sure schoolkids today are still writing in their books and expressing themselves in various artistic ways. How will they do that when e-books supposedly replace print one day? If that ever comes to pass, I'm sure inventive young minds will find a way.

Belle Sherman Kendall

Oftentimes, old secondhand books come with old signatures from their long-departed previous owners. Most of the people who signed or wrote in these books fade from any conscious thought or knowledge of their existence except by those descendants who keep their memories alive. And then there are those individuals such as Belle Sherman Kendall, who obviously owned this History of Texas book and signed it.

Had this 1892 book by John Henry Brown been of sound body (i.e., having a spine), I would have had something of collectible value. It's content is still valuable in a reading copy only, but I found added value in the signature once I figured out who this person wasn't.

I initially researched the name Belle Thurman Kendall and got nothing. After omitting the middle name, I found Belle Sherman Kendall, which caused me to re-examine the signature. Sure enough, it was Sherman, not Thurman.



With the correct name, I discovered a wealth of Texas history back to the Battle of San Jacinto and the Republic of Texas days.

According to Daughters of the Republic of Texas, Patriot Ancestor Album, Volume 1 (Turner Publishing Company, 1995), Belle's father was Sidney Sherman, a businessman from Kentucky, who organized a company of 55 soldiers to join Sam Houston in the fight for Texas independence from Mexico in 1836. He also brought the only Texas flag to fly at San Jacinto. Sherman settled in Harrisburg (part of Houston now). Actually, he bought the town, which had been burned by Mexican General Santa Anna's troops only the day before the Battle of San Jacinto. Sherman rebuilt the town and set up his business (railroad office, lumber mill, grist mill). More than a decade after the war, Belle was born in 1847.

Belle grew up in Houston and married William E. Kendall, Sr. As Belle Sherman Kendall, she became President of the Ladies Reading Club of Houston, which became the Women's Club of Houston. Later she was credited as the the founder of the Houston Public Library System after she secured funding from Andrew Carnegie to build Houston's first library (see related library history here). She was also a founding member of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas. Today, the Kendall Neighborhood Library and Community Center in Houston is named for her.

The Houstonist reported last year on the construction of the Kendall Library, noting its drive-thru service with the opening line: "Houston is getting its first library for lazy people." I wonder how many of the new library's patrons, lazy or not, have any inkling of the history of the name on the building and its connection with Houston's first library?

To an unknown booklover from Helene Hanff

In my collection of books about books, one stands out for its author inscription. I found this gem on a bookscouting trip a few years ago and can only surmise the demise of a kindred spirit for this book to have found its way into a resale shop.

The book is The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, by Helene Hanff, published by J.B. Lippincott, Philadelphia, 1973. It's not really a book about books, per se, but it is the sequel, or follow-up, to the cult-status favorite of bibliophiles everywhere, 84 Charing Cross Road, the story of a twenty-year correspondence between New York writer and English literature lover Helene Hanff and Frank Doel of Marks & Co., the antiquarian book shop whose address was 84 Charing Cross Road.

The book and the movie of the same name are personal favorites of mine. So, you see, the book has to be included in the books about books section of my library and it resides right next to 84 on the shelf.

My copy of Duchess is a first edition, but what makes the book special is Helene Hanff's inscription on the front free endpaper:

To an unknown booklover,
Helene Hanff

I had read an unsigned copy before I found the signed copy, and near the end of the book she recounts her last day in London and a stop by her publisher's, Andre Deutsch, to sign twenty books for a group of Australian booksellers arriving the next day. She liked to personalize her books to fans with long or witty inscriptions, and not knowing who would get these books, she came up with the "unknown booklover" inscription.

Obviously, she repeated the practice stateside because my inscribed copy comes from her American publisher, Lippincott, in Philadelphia. Nonetheless, it has to be a fairly rare inscription I would think.

When I found the book and saw her handwriting, I thought to myself, "I am now one of your unknown booklovers!" What are the chances of finding that book with that particular inscription? I should have gone out and bought lottery tickets that day while Lady Luck was smiling down on me.


I also have an inscribed copy of the British edition published by Andre Deutsch, 1974. This one I got the more conventional way by buying it from another dealer. It has an amusing and somewhat mysterious inscription from Ms. Hanff, which I will write about another time. I'm still trying to find out if the names mentioned in the inscription tie into one of her anecdotes in the book.

In the [hopefully] very distant future, my demise will be at hand and I'd like to think that this book will find its way into the hands of another unknown booklover and the torch will pass. But until then, I'm the unknown booklover. Or at least one of a very small and very lucky group.