The American Heritage Center offers internships for University of Wyoming students in various areas. One example is the opportunity to work with Grace Derby, the Center’s Photography Lab Supervisor. Students learn procedures for preserving historic photographic materials. Here, Gabby Castro shares her experience in the lab.
During my internship at the American Heritage Center photography lab, I spent the semester learning how to digitize different types of photographic negatives. My goal was to understand how different tools affect the final image, and which methods work best for fragile historical negatives. I found the process fun and rewarding, like solving a visual puzzle where every detail matters.
I worked with three systems: An Epson V800 flatbed scanner, a Fujifilm digital camera, and a large-format Linhof Kardan E 4×5 camera with a Better Light Super 8K-HS digital scanning back, which is a specialized high resolution scanner.
To compare them, I digitized 8×10 sheet film negatives and 5×7 wet plate glass negatives from the Clark H. Getts and Osa Johnson Papers. Osa Johnson, along with her first husband Martin Johnson, was an early 20th-century explorer and filmmaker whose work documented wildlife and Indigenous communities in Africa. These negatives are fragile, full of detail, and historically important, perfect for understanding what each digitization method can (and can’t) do.
Image showing Martin and Osa Johnson with local assistants during the 1920s.
The wet plate negatives are heavy glass objects with uneven emulsion (the light-sensitive coating on a negative) and distinctive surface marks that are important to preserve. The 8×10 sheet film negatives are fragile, reflective, and difficult to keep flat.
When I started, I had to restore the large-format camera and digital scanning back, which hadn’t been used for a long time. Fortunately, the manuals were available, but the information online on how to use the software was very limited, so I had to experiment with cables, software, lighting, and the Better Light scanning back until everything finally worked. It took time, but once the system was operational, I didn’t have any further problems during the scanning process.
Once everything was ready, I began digitizing with all three systems.
8×10 negative digitized
5×7 negative digitized
The digital camera was much faster. Each 8×10 negative was photographed in four parts, and each wet plate negative in nine to achieve better quality and greater detail in each image. Taking the photographs went quickly but merging them in Photoshop took time: around 15 minutes for each film negative and about 25 minutes for each wet plate. The results were clean and high contrast, but the camera struggled with capturing the more subtle details in the glass plates.
The large-format camera with the Better Light scanning back produced an interesting quality. This system scans the image line by line, which means it’s slower, but the details and tonal smoothness are impressive. Tonal smoothness refers to the gradual transitions between light and dark areas. For both film and wet plates, I divided each negative into four sections. Each section took around 6 minutes to scan, so the whole negative took about 24 minutes, plus around 18 minutes to merge the final image. Even though the workflow was slower than the digital camera, the results were sharper, more consistent, and more faithful to the original materials.
Using the Epson V800 scanner, I had to scan each 8×10 sheet film negative in two separate sections and then merge them in Photoshop. Each scan took about 20 minutes, and merging the pieces took another 25 minutes. The 5×7 wet plate negatives were faster because of their size. I scanned in a single pass, and each plate took about 20 minutes. While the scanner produced high-resolution files, it struggled with large-sized negatives, transparency, and the fragility of these materials.
After comparing the outcomes, the differences were clear. The scanner was easier but introduced reflections and softness, especially with the glass plates. The digital camera was the fastest, but it lost subtle detail and struggled with transparency. The large-format system with a digital scanning back took the longest to set up, but once it was working, it consistently produced the most accurate and detailed images. It was also the only method that preserved the physical character of the negatives without many modifications, including the edges and emulsion visual variations of the wet plates.
Digital Camera
Large Format
Flatbed Scanner
Digital Camera
Large Format
Flatbed Scanner
This project taught me that there isn’t one perfect digitization method for large-format negatives. Each tool has its strengths. The large-format camera is ideal for high detail images. The digital camera is great for quick access copies or large batches, it also allows printing on a large scale. And the flatbed scanner works well for smaller materials that fit comfortably on the scanner glass.
Additionally, this internship helped me understand the technical and creative decisions behind digitization and how those choices impact the way these materials are preserved and shared. It also helped me grow as a photographer, pushing me to notice details I never would have thought about before. Working with these materials made me appreciate the care needed to protect them.
As we enter the holiday season, it’s nearly impossible to escape the sounds of holiday standards warbling through PA systems and speakers wherever you go. Holiday music is an incredibly lucrative industry with a wide-ranging and enduring appeal, and many recording artists release albums of Christmas music—which often feature the same tunes that have been in rotation for decades. Perhaps one of the most famous of these songs is “White Christmas,” the melancholy standard written by Irving Berlin.
Writing a Classic
Born to a Jewish family in the Russian Empire, Irving Berlin—born Israel Isidore Beilin—immigrated to New York city in 1893 at the age of five. After spending his teenage years performing as a singer in saloons across the traditionally working-class Lower East Side of Manhattan, Berlin got his first job as a staff lyricist with a prominent Tin Pan Alley music publisher, the Ted Snyder Company. From there, Berlin established himself as one of the most prolific songwriters of the 20th century.
Berlin played no small part in the development of the pantheon of music that comprises The Great American Songbook—though “White Christmas” is arguably one of his most widely-known and well-loved songs. Berlin authored the tune for the 1942 release of Holiday Inn, starring Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby.
Music score for Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas.” Box #15A. Nathan Van Cleave papers, Coll. 3053, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
“White Christmas” and World War II
The first public performance of “White Christmas” was on the set of the NBC radio show Kraft Music Hall on December 25, 1941. Sung by host Bing Crosby with the backing of the John Scott Trotter Orchestra, this performance came just weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor. However, the song did not enjoy immediate commercial success.
It was not until Decca Records released the single of the tune in May of 1942 as a part of the promotion for the film release of Holiday Inn did the song begin to gain traction on the air. As the United Status became more entrenched in World War II, the melancholic, pensive tune began to rise in popularity even more. “White Christmas” first topped the charts at the end of 1942. Soon, requests for Bing Crosby’s recording of the nostalgia-seeped song—which reflects on holidays spent in the near-distant past—became one of the most-requested songs ever on the Armed Forces Network.
The song’s success was almost inseparable from the holidays during wartime. In December of 1942, department store Neiman-Marcus decorated their Christmas tree with a theme titled “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” Featuring over $10,000 worth of war bonds and stamps, the tree was “fashioned entirely of non-priority materials,” and both the tree and its associated event were held for the benefit of the Army and Navy.
A 1942 Newsweek article reports that the song enjoyed meteoric success in Britain as well, stating that “Sheet music here and in Britan have touched a million. For a song to reach the top over there at the same time it reaches its height here, incidentally, is most unusual.” The tune remained pervasive throughout the wartime years during the holiday season.
Cinematic Release of White Christmas
In 1954, Paramount Pictures released the motion picture film, White Christmas, sharing a name with Berlin’s song. The film was a technical spectacle for the time, featuring song and dance numbers shot in Paramount’s brand-new VistaVision technology.
November 1954 cover of Sunday Pictorial Review for the promotion of the cinematic release of White Christmas. Box #44. Jacques Kapralik papers, Coll. 4064, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The film features Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye playing the parts of a famous Broadway singing duo Bob Wallace and Phil Davis, who initially met while serving in the 151st Division during World War II. Through a series of comedic misadventures, the two find themselves on a northbound train to Vermont with a hopeful sister act, the Haynes Sisters, played by Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen. Upon their arrival in Vermont, they discover that their beloved former general, General Waverly, is running a ski lodge at risk of closure.
Cast photo of Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Vera Ellen, and Danny Kaye from the set of White Christmas. Box #5. Robert Emmett Dolan papers, Coll. 6436, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The closing number of the film features the song “White Christmas” at a Christmas Eve concert orchestrated by Crosby’s Bob Wallace for the benefit of General Waverley.
Panoramic shots of the inn show veterans of the 151st Division in uniform paying tribute to their general. Even 13 years after its first performance just days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the film echoes the same themes that led to the initial popularity of “White Christmas” in mid-century culture.
A Season Standard
While “White Christmas” rose to the top of the charts more than 80 years ago, its appeal to audiences has endured over time. Crosby’s 1942 recording of the tune would prove to become the best-selling single of all time, and the recording was selected for preservation by the Library of Congress in 2002 as part of their National Recording Registry. This song, widely enjoyed by generations of people across the world with a history deeply tied to wartime, remains a favorite today.
Whatever you may be celebrating this holiday season, the staff at the American Heritage Center wishes that all your days be merry and bright.
Post contributed by AHC Audiovisual Archivist Jessica LaBozetta.
Marling, K. A. (2000). Merry Christmas!: Celebrating America’s Greatest Holiday. Harvard University Press.
Neiman-Marcus Christmas Tree Decorated With $10,000 In War Bonds And Stamps: “I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas,” Theme Of 1942 Gift Promenade For Benefit Of Army And Navy Camps. (1942). Women’s Wear Daily, 65(115), 3-3, 6.
Snowed Under. (1942, Dec 28). Newsweek, 20, 74-75.
Lora Webb Nichols (1883-1962) was a prolific diarist and photographer who lived most of her life in southcentral Wyoming. She accumulated more than 24,000 negatives, representing the many shades of life in the frontier mining town of Encampment. Today, the American Heritage Center is the home to the Lora Webb Nichols Papers, a collection of transcripts, photographs, and negatives depicting Wyoming, California, and the Rocky Mountain region.
Lora Webb Nichols (then Oldman) sitting under a rock shelf with the description “There’s room here for 2, dear.” Box 4, Photo #2031, Lora Webb Nichols Papers, Collection Number 1005, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
“This collection is an endless source for interpreting Wyoming during [Nichols’s] time frame,” said Nancy F. Anderson, a close friend of the Nichols family and author of Lora Webb Nichols: Homesteader’s Daughter, Miner’s Bride. “Endless. Sixty-five years of diary, almost 24,000 images. There are diaries, letters, objects. The collection is absolutely breathtaking.”
A Penchant for Capture
Nichols was born in Boulder, Colorado, the youngest child of Horace and Sylvia Wilson Nichols. In 1884 her family moved from Boulder to a homestead in Encampment. In 1893 the Nichols family moved back to Colorado, where her father worked at the state penitentiary. In 1897, just as Lora began keeping a diary, the Nichols family returned to Encampment. She lived there until 1935 when she relocated to Stockton, California. She returned to Encampment a final time in 1956.
As a 13-year old, Nichols began recording entries in her diary, which she would continue to do over the course of her life. According to Anderson, Nichols also wrote down “innumerable poems, sayings and excerpts from longer works which were to guide her improvement.” As a youth it was clear Nichols had a penchant for capturing the domestic, social, and economic elements of everyday life.
A copper miner named Bert Oldman began courting Nichols in 1899, and she received from him her first Kodak camera; Nichols married Oldman in 1900 and they had two children. Her father also gifted her a developing kit for Christmas. At 16-years old, Nichols started taking her own photographs and developing her own negatives and prints. In 1905 Nichols built a darkroom to work as a photographer and photo finisher for hire. The first photographs Nichols took were of family, friends, and animals including her mother, her pony Nibbs, and her cat Yankee.
Lora Oldman, Maggie Nichols, and Jennie Ashley riding Nibbs, Lora’s pony, on September 23, 1901. Box 3, Photo #128, Lora Webb Nichols Papers, Collection Number 1005, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Nichols’s photography work coincided with a copper boom in the Sierra Madre Mountains. From 1897 to 1900, the town of Encampment grew to 3,000 people, many of whom sought their fortune in copper mining. Inhabitants built 13 hotels and saloons; a smelt with the capacity to process 100-tons of copper per day; and a 16-mile long tramway that carried up to 840 buckets of copper, each with up to 700 pounds of ore, from the mountain mines to the smelt.
Mining companies, prospectors, and ranchers recognized Nichols as one of the few skilled photographers in town and hired her to document their work. In addition to photographing family and friends doing daily chores like cooking, cleaning, shoveling snow, and stacking wood, Nichols started snapping shots of ore mining camps, processing facilities, infrastructure projects, and industrial landscapes.
Photography helped supplement Nichols’s income but it wasn’t her only job. After divorcing Oldman in 1910, Nichols married her cousin Guy Nichols in 1914; they had four children. A few years after the birth of her son Dick in 1921, Nichols began publishing and editing the Encampment Echo from 1925 to 1930. In addition, Nichols worked in the post office, owned and ran a local eatery called the Sugar Bowl, and cooked at the A Bar A ranch. She also operated her own photography studio, Rocky Mountain Studio, where she shot and developed her own photos and developed other peoples’ work. When the Civilian Conservation Corps arrived in 1933 to run camps in Medicine Bow National Forest, Nichols documented crew members and processed film they took, some of which she reprinted and sold as postcards.
In 1935, Nichols moved to California for health reasons but kept on taking photographs. Guy Nichols remained in Encampment where he died in 1955. Nichols retired in 1956 and settled back in Encampment, which would be her home until her death in 1962.
According to Anderson, “during the last six or seven years of Lora’s life, she usually carried at least two cameras with her everywhere she went.”
Baling Wire and Capable Women
When Nichols passed, the Grand Encampment Museum recovered her diary, memoir manuscript, and negatives. Anderson, a longtime Grand Encampment Museum volunteer, helped preserve the Nichols collection in the 1990s by storing negatives in a freezer. Ezra Nichols, Nichols’s son, also lent Anderson some financial support for the project. In 2014, Anderson approached John Waggener, the university archivist and historian at the University of Wyoming’s American Heritage Center, about long-term care of the collection. This started a process of transferring thousands of negatives and transcribed pages to the AHC. In 2015, Nichols’s negatives were officially donated to the American Heritage Center and made publicly accessible online.
Lora’s second husband, Guy Nichols (right), with Hank Beecher, mining in a tunnel at Two Toms Claim on January 22, 1911. Box 4, Photo #1213, Lora Webb Nichols Papers, Collection Number 1005, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In 2017, the Wyoming State Historical Records Advisory Board awarded the Grand Encampment Museum an almost $2,500 grant to begin transcribing Nichols’s diaries, scrapbooks, and manuscript. The original written documents remain at the Grand Encampment Museum.
Today, the Lora Webb Nichols collection at the American Heritage Center contains transcripts of her diaries (1897-1907), her unfinished manuscript, “I Remember” (ca. 1962, covering events from 1859-1905), and thousands of images of life in Wyoming, California, and the upper North Platte River valley. It’s a collection of more than 22 boxes and 471 GB of material. Nancy Anderson and her husband Victor digitized more than 21,000 images from the collection and created descriptions for each of the images. AHC archivists then worked on transferring all of the digital images and made them accessible online.
Anderson recalled that one of Nichols’s favorite sayings was “All that holds Wyoming together is baling wire and capable women.” When it comes to local history, for Nichols and Anderson it seems to be true.
Post contributed by AHC Assistant Teacher Nick DeLuca.
With her large blue eyes and lithe figure, Carroll Baker was a Hollywood sensation. Papers of the day described her as “a little like Marilyn Monroe, a little like Jean Harlow, and altogether a platinum blonde.” She earned millions from her appearances in dozens of movies. Directors, including George Stevens and John Ford, praised her skill as an actress. Yet behind the glamour was a determined artist who fought to be seen for her talent rather than her looks.
Carroll Baker strikes a glamorous pose disembarking from a train in France. Box 8, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Baker came from humble beginnings. She was born in Pennsylvania coal country in 1931. Her childhood was unsettled. The family moved often while her father tried to make a living as a traveling salesman. Her parents fought and eventually divorced. Movie theaters offered a welcome form of escape. As a young girl, Baker idolized Shirley Temple and tried out for school plays but never won a role.
Baker left home at seventeen to pursue a career as a dancer. Before long she was an assistant to The Great Volta, a touring magician. At eighteen she married a New York furrier and real estate mogul 34 years her senior. The marriage lasted eight months and Baker traveled to Mexico to get a divorce. The brief marriage left Baker wiser and more independent—ready to chase her dream on her own terms.
On her return to New York City, she decided to pursue a career as an actress. She auditioned for the Actors Studio, determined to study method acting. There she met Jack Garfein, whom she married in 1955. Garfein was a stage and film director, who had come to the United States as a teenaged orphan, having been the only member of his Czechoslovak-Jewish family to survive Nazi concentration camps. Newlyweds Garfein and Baker were poor but happy, living in a one room New York City apartment and eating canned spaghetti for dinner.
Baker’s ascent to Hollywood stardom began when she was cast as Elizabeth Taylor’s and Rock Hudson’s daughter in the 1956 film Giant. Warner Brothers was so impressed with her performance that they signed her to a seven-year contract. That led her to the leading role in the 1956 film Baby Doll based on two one-act plays written by Tennessee Williams.
Baby Doll was a violent and disturbing film. Baker played the title character, Baby Doll, a nineteen-year-old girl who, though married, sleeps in a crib, sucks her thumb, and plays with dolls. It garnered Baker an Oscar nomination, but it was also given a condemned rating by the Catholic National Legion of Decency. They called the movie “salacious” and full of “carnal suggestiveness.”
In this scene from Baby Doll, Carroll Baker runs to find her on-screen husband. Box 32, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In New York, partly because of the notoriety, Baby Doll was a box office sellout. But in Memphis and Atlanta the movie was banned. Baker was appalled that her part “caused so much hoopla.” She hid from photographers, who badgered her to pose sucking her thumb. She dyed her hair black and began wearing dark clothes to make herself inconspicuous. Meanwhile, critics called her a female James Dean and touted her as the star discovery of the year.
Warner Brothers proceeded to offer her parts that were reminiscent of Baby Doll, but Baker didn’t want to be typecast, so she took out a loan and bought out her studio contract for $250,000. After the success of Baby Doll, Baker was careful about which directors she worked with. She held out for scripts with artistic merit. Following Baby Doll, Baker appeared in The Big Country and in a Clark Gable comedy But Not for Me. It was a particularly sweet success as Baker had long admired Clark Gable.
Baker traveled to Europe on vacation in 1960. While she was there, an Italian photographer asked her to pose in a bikini. Baker demurred – she was a professional actress, not a sex symbol. But the photographer was persistent. Baker ended up on the front cover of magazines across Italy. The experience led her to conclude that, like Sophia Loren, she could be a serious actress with sex appeal.
Then in 1961, she and husband Garfein teamed up on Something Wild. It was another film with dark themes. Garfein wrote the script and directed. Baker played a girl living alone in a New York slum. The movie opens with a brutal sexual assault. Critics called it “a complex exploration of the physical and emotional effects of trauma.” Baker prepared for her role by renting a tiny room in a boarding house and hiring on as a salesgirl in a dime store. The film received critical reviews in the U.S. but was better received in Europe.
Carroll Baker and Jack Garfein on the set of Something Wild. Box 36, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Garfein and Baker’s collaboration wasn’t limited to film. They also had two children, Blanche and Herschel.
Carroll Baker, Jack Garfein, and their children Blanche and Herschel pose for a photo outside their Beverly Hills home, 1965. Box 46, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In 1962 Baker was cast in the Broadway show Come On Strong but the production flopped. A review described Baker: “A slender blond beauty with a springtime freshness of a true romantic heroine, she can whip a comic line across the stage like a hand grenade, make love with ardor and grace, turn abruptly without a false move from one mood to the next, make you love her, hate her and, time and again, weep for her. What an extraordinary talent!”
Then came How the West Was Won, an epic Western with a star-studded cast. Baker played the role of pioneer Eve Prescott Rawlings and proved herself, once again, a worthy actress. For the 1964 film The Carpetbaggers, Baker played the sultry Rina Marlowe, loosely based on the actress Jean Harlow. The press called it “the most daring and sexy film ever to come out of Hollywood!” Garfein was pragmatic about Baker’s on-screen romances saying, “As long as she acts well, I like it.” Baker said she “enjoyed filming love scenes – letting her instincts go.”
George Peppard, playing Jonas Cord, Jr, and Carroll Baker, playing Rina Marlowe, in a publicity photo for the film The Carpetbaggers, 1963. Box 46, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Also in 1964, Baker traveled to Kenya to film Mister Moses. Her face was frequently splashed across the cover of popular magazines like Life and Look. That same year she appeared in Cheyenne Autumn, the last Western directed by John Ford. In what was another departure from her bombshell roles, Baker played a Quaker school teacher.
Carroll Baker at the international Press Premiere of the film Cheyenne Autumn at the Lincoln Theater in Cheyenne, Wyoming, 1964. Box 10, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Baker spoke of working terribly hard, saying “the kind of excitement we try to create for a motion picture, the way we go out of our way to make personal appearances, is a lot harder for us that it is for the men; first of all because we have a very short career span, and secondly because it takes us hours longer to get ready, fix our hair, makeup and so forth.” But Baker also wrote, “I have most of the blessings that eluded Marilyn Monroe and Jean Harlow – children, a good husband, a secure home – and now I am financially secure, too.”
In 1965, Baker was cast in the role of Jean Harlow in a biopic titled Harlow. By then, reviewers were calling Baker the “sex queen of the Sixties.” In an interview, Garfein said, “Carroll is cast most successfully as a sinner or a saint. There’s this thing about her – a combination of purity and beauty and yet of corruption…She’s beautiful, seductive and sexy.” Baker, for her part said, “The world is preoccupied with sex, and I guess I’m part of my time…I’m interested in playing the modern woman who has become so liberated she has given way to all sorts of passions and desires. If a script calls for nudity, if it seems to be an inherent part of the character that I’m playing, then why shouldn’t it be done that way?”
By 1966, Baker had become an internationally renowned actress, having starred in 15 films. She traveled to Vietnam with Bob Hope’s Christmas USO troupe to entertain American troops.
Carroll Baker talks with a wounded soldier in Vietnam. Box 12, Carroll Baker papers, Collection No. 5474, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Back in California, tensions with her studio were mounting. Amid a legal dispute over her contract with Paramount, Baker moved to Italy with her children. She separated from Garfein in 1964, and they divorced in 1969.
Baker returned to the U.S. after acting in a series of Italian films in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In the 1980s, she turned her attention to writing, publishing three books, including Baby Doll: An Autobiography. And, defying the odds, she continued to act. Her 1990s television credits include roles in Tales from the Crypt and Murder, She Wrote. She also appeared in films like Kindergarten Cop with Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dalva with Farah Fawcett and The Game with Michael Douglas. Baker formally retired in 2003, having spent nearly fifty years acting on stage and on screens both large and small.
Carroll Baker’s career reflects both the glamour and the grit of Hollywood’s golden age. From her humble beginnings to her transformation into an international star, she defied the industry’s attempts to confine her to a single image. Baker was never just the blonde bombshell on the marquee; she was a woman of depth and conviction who brought courage and vulnerability to every role she played. Through talent, resilience, and an unyielding sense of self, Baker proved that she was far more than a sex symbol—she was a complex artist whose performances continue to captivate audiences decades later.
Post contributed by AHC Writer Kathryn Billington.
American Heritage Center archivists, Erin Shadrick and John Waggener, recently coauthored a book about the history of the Western Research Institute and its predecessor Bureau of Mines.
University of Wyoming Archivist John Waggener
The 73-page book, One Hundred Years on the High Plains of Technology, tells the story of the first 100 years of what began as the federal Bureau of Mines located on the campus of the University of Wyoming and eventually expanded into what became the Western Research Institute that now occupies research facilities on nearly 27 acres of land just north of Laramie on U.S. Highway 30 (North 3rd Street).
The United States Bureau of Mines played a crucial role in the development of the nation’s mineral resources, ensuring safety in mining operations, and fostering innovation in the energy sector. Established in 1910, the bureau’s function was to promote wise development and use of the nation’s mineral resources and safe working conditions in its mineral industries.
Erin Shadrick presenting WRI history at the institution’s 100th anniversary celebration in November 2024.
The federal agency had an immediate presence in the state of Wyoming. Mine rescue and safety offices were established in several mining communities, including Rock Springs, where numerous underground coal mines operated to supply coal to the Union Pacific Railroad. In 1913, an office opened in Casper to oversee petroleum development at such sites as the Salt Creek Field and later Teapot Dome. In 1913, the U.S. Geological Survey launched an investigation of the country’s largest concentration of oil-shale resources: the Green River Formation, covering over 17,000 square miles of land in southwest Wyoming and northwest Colorado and northeast Utah.
The Salt Creek Oil Field, shown here around 1921. One of the largest oil fields in the nation, Salt Creek has produced over 209 million barrels of light oil since its discovery in 1889. Box 1, Wyoming Oilfields Photograph Album, Coll. No. 2244, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Bureau of Mines also opened multiple research laboratories around the nation. When oil and gas exploration boomed in the 1920s, states like Wyoming, rich with petroleum resources, could benefit from having a research station to assist companies in developing the resource.
Wyoming’s Bureau of Mines research station was initiated during a chance meeting on a train. George E. Brimmer, a prominent attorney who practiced in Rawlins before moving to Cheyenne, had an interest in developing Wyoming’s economic resources, including petroleum. While on a trip from Oklahoma back to Wyoming in June 1923, Brimmer met Theodore E. Swigart, the Superintendent of the Bureau of Mines research station in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. Brimmer related his encounter to members of the University of Wyoming Board of Trustees:
In the latter part of June, I was down in Oklahoma, and while coming up North on the train a gentleman came back and introduced himself as Mr. Swigart, as I remember the name. It appeared that he formerly knew me in Wyoming. At the present time he is head of the Bartlesville Testing Laboratory, Bureau of Mines, located at Bartlesville, Oklahoma. It appears that Bartlesville is the principle testing laboratory station of the Bureau of Mines…I went into the proposition of establishing a branch testing laboratory in Wyoming with Mr. Swigart and requested him to take it up with the Chief of the Bureau of Mines when he went back to Washington. This was agreed to. About a month later I received a letter from Mr. Swigart advising me that he had taken the matter up with Mr. Tough, his chief, and that he wished I would look into the matter thoroughly when I went to Washington.
Dictation of George Brimmer testimony to Secretary to the University Trustees, August 22, 1923, University of Wyoming President’s Office Records, Box 28, Folder 19, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Brimmer then traveled to Washington to meet Fred B. Tough, the chief petroleum engineer for the bureau. Brimmer described his meeting with Tough:
When I was at Washington in July, I went in to see Mr. Tough, and found him conversing with Mr. Hill who is a brother of Prof. [John A.] Hill of the University. Mr. Hill is one of the chief chemists in the Government service, and is a personal friend of Mr. Tough. Mr. Tough had been in Wyoming a good many years and personally we were well acquainted.
Ibid.
F. B. Tough had been involved in the development of the Salt Creek Field near Casper several years earlier. His bureau research led to methods of using cement for water shutoff in the Salt Creek Field. He also engaged in oil shale research in the Green River Formation of southwest Wyoming and northwest Colorado and was instrumental in locating a naval oil shale reserve in northwest Colorado, near Parachute.
Harry H. Hill. His work with the U.S. Bureau of Mines and connections to Wyoming helped secure the Bureau’s Laramie research facility in 1924. Source: 1911-1912 University of Wyoming yearbook.
Tough had moved into his Washington office a year earlier. He had been the supervisor of oil and gas leases for the Bureau of Mines and was replaced by Harry H. Hill in the fall of 1922. Hill came to that position from Bartlesville where he had been the superintendent. When Hill left the Bartlesville position, it was filled by T. E. Swigart.
The strong connections that Fred Tough and Harry Hill had to the state greatly increased Wyoming’s chances of securing a Bureau of Mines facility. Harry H. Hill and his brother John A. Hill graduated from the University of Wyoming in 1911 and 1907, respectively. In the summer of 1913, Harry Hill began working for the Bureau of Mines in Washington D.C. As Brimmer noted in his report to the Board of Trustees in 1923, John A. Hill was, by then, the Dean of the University of Wyoming’s College of Agriculture.
On September 1, 1923, Brimmer sent a Western Union telegram to the Board of Trustees advising:
Suggest that if favorable action is to be taken that resolution be adopted providing for expenditure not exceeding Twenty-Five Thousand for construction of building on campus to be utilized by Bureau of Mines for petroleum laboratories and offices under plans to be furnished by Bureau conditioned that Secretary of Interior agrees to establish branch at Laramie.
Telegram from George Brimmer to the Secretary of the Board of Trustees, September 1, 1923, University of Wyoming President’s Office Records, Box 28, Folder 19, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
During its September 5, 1923, meeting, the Board of Trustees voted to enter “negotiations with the Government and that the Committee be authorized to furnish such quarters as they deem advisable to secure the location on the campus of a Federal petroleum testing laboratory, the expenses not to exceed $25,000.” (Source: University of Wyoming Board of Trustees Meeting Minutes, September 5, 1923, Board of Trustees Records, Box 11, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.)
The new Bureau of Mines facility opened on July 1, 1924, and was initially housed in the new Engineering Shops located behind the College of Engineering Building that was still under construction. In the fall of 1935, the operation moved into a new building located along Lewis Street behind the College of Agriculture. Bureau of Mines research grew significantly during World War II when the demand for petroleum resources increased.
The Bureau of Mines location (the large rectangular structure on the left) at the University of Wyoming, 1928. American Heritage Center Photo Files.Bureau of Mines staff outside of the Petroleum Experiment Station building, 1938. From left to right: H.M. Thorne, Amelia M. Peterson, Ralph Espach, Stella Sandell, Walter Murphy, H.P. Rue, H. Dale Nichols, John S. Ball, and K.E. Stanfield. Box 22, Ludwig & Svenson Photographs, Coll. No. 167, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming
In 1944, efforts to open a much larger research facility began. A new Bureau of Mines Building site was located at the northwest corner of campus at the intersection of 9th and Lewis Street. The multi-story building was completed in 1947 and offered additional space for the expanding number of engineers and scientists who would begin their work in Laramie.
View of new building, July 29, 1947. Photo courtesy of the Western Research Institute.
In the late 1960s, the Bureau of Mines secured land just north of the city on U.S. 30 (North 3rd Street) to conduct larger-scale retort experiments. As the nation was expanding its highway system, asphalt research expanded, and the Laramie Research Station became a leader in asphalt research. Each year since the mid-1960s, an international conference, now known as the Petersen Asphalt Research Conference (PARC) has held an annual conference in Laramie. The conference is named in honor of Joseph Claine Petersen who came to Laramie in 1964 where he focused on asphalt research at the bureau. He is recognized as one of the foremost experts in asphalt research. He retired from the Western Research Institute in 1990.
In the 1970s, during a federal reorganization, the Bureau of Mines became a part of the Department of Energy, and the Laramie station became known as the Laramie Energy Technology Center (LETC.) Then, in 1983, the federal government planned to shut down the Laramie office, after a reorganization of the Department of Energy. The University of Wyoming saw the need to maintain the Laramie office and entered negotiations with the Department of Energy to take control of the office. An official signing ceremony occurred on campus on March 19, 1983, when the federal office was turned over to the university as the University of Wyoming Research Corporation that was overseen by a board of directors. Several months later, this research corporation became known as the Western Research Institute.
When the Western Research Institute and the University of Wyoming came to realize that the joint relationship was no longer necessary, the Western Research Institute formally separated from the university on September 17, 2020, making WRI an independent non-profit research corporation. WRI slowly began to move its operation from the Bureau of Mines Building to the north site.
On July 1, 2023, 99 years to the day after the Bureau of Mines established a presence on the University of Wyoming campus, the WRI had fully transitioned to the north site. Though this marked an end to its physical presence on campus, WRI and UW continue to work closely together on a variety of research projects. WRI has expanded its research and development beyond asphalt to biomass, hydrocarbon, and polymer resources.
Aerial long view of the Western Research Institute in 2024. Courtesy of Kyriessa Lane, Xanadu Productions.
Copies of the book that tell this story in more detail are available by contacting the Western Research Institute directly. The authors want to thank Paul Flesher, the director of the American Heritage Center, for supporting this project and Didier Lesueur, CEO of Western Research Institute for providing the opportunity to research and write the book – a project that took more than one year to complete.
Post contributed by University Archivist John Waggener and Accessing Unit Supervisor Erin Shadrick.
Sources:
University of Wyoming Presidents Office records, Collection 510000, American Heritage Center.
University of Wyoming Board of Trustees records, Collection 500000, American Heritage Center.
As Thanksgiving approaches, here a look at some culinary treasures at the Toppan Rare Book Library—two cookbooks that show how Americans have celebrated the holiday across different eras.
A Child’s Party Paradise
Let’s start with the more playful of our two books: Cornelia Staley’s Childrens Party Book: Games, Decorations, Menus, and Recipes from 1935. Part of the Mary Kay Mason Collection, this delightful volume is packed with ideas for making celebrations special—even during the Depression years when money was tight.
The Thanksgiving section is particularly charming. Staley suggests sending invitations with turkey stickers and a clever rhyme about the Pilgrims coming over in 1620. For entertainment, she recommends “Turkey in the Straw”—a game where kids hunt for a cellophane-wrapped chocolate turkey hidden in straw. You can almost hear the laughter.
The menu she proposes is quite practical: Creamed Tuna Fish in Toast Baskets, Candied Sweet Potatoes, Apple, Celery and Marshmallow Salad, Chocolate Pudding, Monkey Faces cookies, and milk. Not exactly traditional Thanksgiving fare, but perfect for a children’s party when you’re watching your budget. And honestly, Monkey Faces cookies sound pretty great.
The colorful cover of Cornelia Staley’s Childrens’ Party Book (1935) promises festive fun for every occasion, from Halloween witches to Christmas celebrations. From the Mary Kay Mason Collection, Toppan Rare Book Library.Staley’s Thanksgiving Party section features whimsical illustrations and offers creative party ideas including the “Turkey in the Straw” game and a simplified holiday menu perfect for young guests.
The Authority on American Cooking
Now for the serious stuff. Our 1909 edition of The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book by Fannie Merritt Farmer is from the Eliza W. Toppan Collection, and it’s a beauty. If you’ve ever followed a recipe, you owe Fannie Farmer a debt of gratitude. She’s the one who insisted on level measurements—no more “a pinch of this” or “a handful of that.” Her precision earned her the nickname “The Mother of Level Measurements,” and it changed American cooking forever.
The worn cover of the 1909 edition of Fannie Merritt Farmer’s The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book testifies to its frequent use. From the Eliza W. Toppan Collection, Toppan Rare Book Library.
Farmer’s approach to roasting turkey is meticulous. Dress, clean, stuff, and truss your ten-pound bird. Rub it with salt. Coat it with butter mixed with flour. Place it in a hot oven. Then—and here’s the labor-intensive part—baste it every fifteen minutes for three hours. Every. Fifteen. Minutes. Thanksgiving dinner was serious business in 1909.
The stuffing options are impressive: Chestnut, Oyster, or Swedish Style. And if you really wanted to go all out, there’s a recipe for Chestnut Gravy that involves mashing chestnuts and adding them to the turkey drippings. These were not shortcuts-in-the-kitchen kind of people.
More Than Just Recipes
What makes these books special isn’t just the recipes—it’s the glimpse they give us into how people actually lived and celebrated. Farmer’s cookbook shows us the elaborate, formal holiday dinners of the early 1900s. Staley’s party book reveals how families found creative ways to celebrate during tough economic times. Together, they tell the story of how Thanksgiving evolved from a Victorian feast to something more relaxed and family-friendly.
These cookbooks live at the Toppan Rare Book Library, where they’re preserved for anyone curious about how we’ve fed ourselves—and celebrated together—over the years. This Thanksgiving, while you’re enjoying your own meal (and probably not basting anything every fifteen minutes), you might spare a thought for all those cooks who came before, doing their best to make the day special.
Post contributed by Leslie Waggener with special thanks to Toppan Rare Books Curator Dr. Mary Beth Brown for supplying books and images.
When I first opened the lid of the gray archival box at the American Heritage Center, I was both exhilarated and apprehensive, the kind of feeling you get when you encounter something that is both fragile and alive.
In it, buried under files thick with history, is a picture that takes my breath away. It translated into an image of Arapaho boys at a mission school in the late 19th century. At first glance, it appeared one of those black-and-white photographs you flip through quickly in history books—clamped buttons on stiff collars, stiff postures, a missionary and a priest to one side, their power cordoned off. But the longer I looked at it, the weightier the image appeared. I observed boys whose eyes alternated between obedience and defiance, children trapped in a world not their own. That was when I realized that the archives weren’t just piles of paper. They were voices, waiting for someone to listen.
Photograph of boys at the first mission school on the reservation, ca. 1890. Dr. John Roberts (seated at far right) and Rev. Sherman Coolidge (standing at far left). John Roberts papers, Coll. No. 37, Box 3, Folder 3, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Arriving from Nigeria
I came from Nigeria to Wyoming to study for a master’s in American Studies. I grew up in Nigeria, and this resonates well with our history, the influence of colonial legacies on our education. Most of Nigerian schools spoke English— not my grandparents’ indigenous languages. Our history books seemed as if they had been written from an outsider’s perspective—by people who believed they understood our history better than we did. School was supposed to be free, but it often meant learning someone else’s idea of who we were.
That background made me deeply curious about Native American history and education in the United States. What role had colonization played in shaping Indigenous schooling here? How had Native communities resisted? Could those archival records—the letters, the photographs, the missionary diaries, the linguistic notes—present a more complete picture than the one most Americans learn in their classrooms?
When I encountered the John Roberts Papers and Zdeněk Salzmann’s Arapaho linguistic collection at the AHC, my sense of connection was of a different kind. The contexts were different—Nigeria in West Africa and Indigenous communities in the American West—but the themes felt all too familiar: Cultures under attack and languages pushed to the margins as foreign ideas were forced onto the hearts of children, who were squeezed into an educational mold meant to erase them.
Reading Missionary Diaries
The diaries of Reverend John Roberts, who worked among the Arapaho people, were particularly striking. They carried the confidence of a man who believed in his mission—that Native children could be “civilized” through Christian schooling. I initially found the tone irksome. It reflected the colonial mindset of the time that considered cultural difference something to snuff out.
But as I read more carefully, I noticed something else. I noticed some cracks in the narrative. While Roberts wrote about discipline, conversion and instruction, he was also inadvertently penning persistence and survival among the people. What he encountered as challenges to his work, I saw as glimmers of agency—tough reminders that the Indigenous identity could not so easily be wiped away.
Encountering a Language in Fragments
Salzmann’s linguistic research on the Arapaho language showed another side of the story. Box after box contained vocabulary flashcards, phonetic transcriptions, and grammatical outlines. Where the diaries often spoke of loss, these notes felt like seeds. They represented a determined effort to preserve and pass on a language at risk.
Looking at those materials, I thought about Yoruba, my own language. In Nigeria, many young people grow up speaking only English in schools. Local languages fade when they are not supported in classrooms. Salzmann’s notes reminded me that language is more than a tool for communication — it is memory, worldview, and identity.
Building Lesson Plans
Using these sets, I created lesson plans for high school teachers. I had a simple goal: to bring archival materials out of boxes and into classrooms where they could inspire curiosity, empathy, and critical thinking.
The AHC doesn’t yet have a dedicated curriculum program—there simply aren’t enough staff for that—but my lesson plans will soon be available to teachers through Brie Blasi, who oversees the Center’s Education and Outreach Department. I hope the plans will help students do more than just memorize dates but instead encourage inquiry. For instance, students could compare a Native student’s letter with a missionary’s diary entry and look for differences in perspective. Or they can research Salzmann’s language charts and oral histories and consider what it means to lose (or save) a language.
The idea is not to tell students what to think, but to have them grapple with the complexities of the past. That kind of active engagement can transform how history feels: no longer distant or abstract, but deeply human.
Classroom posters showing Arapaho language numbers and color words. Photo: Katie Klingsporn/WyoFile.
A Personal Journey
For me, this project has always been more than just academic. It was personal.
As I combed through the archives, I was vexed by the specter of Nigeria—of children like me who had grown up learning in a foreign language, of grandparents whose stories had never made it onto the pages of textbooks, and of the ways in which colonization continues to haunt our classrooms. The similarities we identified in the American West both broke and fulfilled our hearts. It reminded me that the fight to protect culture and to remember is not something that happens exclusively in one place.
And I also thought about what it means to be a visitor to these archives. As a Nigerian citizen, I am not an interlocutor of Indigenous histories in the United States. But that distance gave me perspective. I saw echoes across histories separated by oceans, and I could bring a sense of both humility and fellowship to these materials. In a way, working in the archives felt like a bridge between two worlds—a search for resonance between Nigeria and Native America.
Before working on this project, I viewed the archives as dusty, behind-closed-doors repositories meant for academics. Now I see them differently. Archives are not neutral; they bear on memory, identity and justice. They carry the weight of colonial silences and the force of Indigenous persistence. When we open these boxes—when we also listen deeply—they can even transform the way we think of the pain of the past and the possibilities of the future.
Getting archives into classrooms amplifies that effect. It teaches students that history is not just what textbooks tell us It’s not some abstract thing they only see from a distance; it is something upon which they can lay their hands, feel and raise questions about said mess. They find that a photograph, letter or vocabulary card can tell powerful stories that complicate the simpler narratives they might have heard in their youths. Most important, they develop empathy because archives aren’t just about dates and events, they are about people.
Carrying Stories Forward
I cannot forget that photograph of the Arapaho boys. Their faces are a reminder that history is not just the past; it’s the choices we make about whose voices we elevate and which stories we bring with us and which we provide for the next generation to remember.
Around the world—in Nigeria, in Native American communities, and beyond—education has served as both a space of loss and a mode of resistance. Archives help us confront those histories honestly. They remind us that preservation is an act of care, and that teaching can be a form of justice.
Archives are not simply repositories of the past. They are bridges. And as I learned in my time at the American Heritage Center, we have a responsibility to cross them.
Post contributed by Joseph Egungbemi, graduate student in UW’s American Studies program and Summer 2025 American Heritage Center intern.
This Veterans Day, which is November 11th, marks the end of the 50th Anniversary Commemoration of the Vietnam War. The thirteen-year commemoration period was launched in 2012 by President Barack Obama to honor Vietnam veterans and their families.
Almost 2.7 million servicemen and women served over the course of the nearly 20-year-long conflict in Vietnam. One of those men was Leslie Herman Klahn Jr. He served as an Army helicopter pilot in Vietnam from August 1967 through July 1968. Among his papers are letters he wrote to his parents in Colorado, first from Army bases in the U.S. where he was in training, and later from Vietnam.
Leslie Herman Klahn Jr. (or simply “Jr” as he signed off on his letters) was both a devoted son and dependable correspondent. His father had served in the National Guard during World War II, so it is perhaps not surprising that Klahn Jr. joined the ROTC at the University of Wyoming. It was a brave decision, as the U.S. involvement in the war with Vietnam was already underway.
By July 1966 Klahn was headed to basic training at the Army’s Fort Polk in Louisiana. After graduating from basic training, where he was awarded a trophy for marksmanship, Klahn received his orders to flight school at Fort Wolters in Texas. He began in October 1966. Klahn described flight school as “real tough,” writing home:
I haven’t given up, and I am studying all the time – you just don’t know how much I want to prove to myself, you and Janice [his girlfriend] that I can succeed at something. If I fail I just don’t know what I’d do!
At the end of October, he mailed his parents this postcard, showing a helicopter staging field. He wrote on the back, “This is what I will fly – I hope.”
Postcard showing and OH-23 “Raven” hovering among the hundreds of helicopters at the US Army Primary Helicopter School at Fort Wolters, Texas. Box 1, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers, Collection No. 11676, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
But Klahn wrestled with nerves and self-doubt. On October 22, 1966, he wrote:
I just can’t see myself flying that damn thing. But I am really looking forward to it. We’ll start flying a week from Monday, and I am getting nervous right now.
After weeks of arduous training, Klahn’s skill as a pilot grew. He was preparing for combat in Vietnam. Yet, even as a student, flying was not without risks. Three of his classmates were killed in a midair collision and two more died when their helicopter’s engine failed. Accidents at the training field were not uncommon.
Photograph of a Hughes TH-55A helicopter used for at the US Army Primary Helicopter School at Fort Wolters, Texas. Box 1, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
Having seen fatal crashes firsthand, and forced to grapple with his own mortality, Klahn and his girlfriend Jan decided to get married after he graduated from flight school. He wrote to his parents, “I guess you don’t approve, but we want to be together that short time than nothing at all – that is if something happens to me in V.C. [Viet Cong] country.”
By August of 1967, Klahn had arrived in Cam Ranh Bay. He wrote, “Well I am in Vietnam – it sure doesn’t seem like it – it’s so peaceful here.”
Map of Southeast Asia, showing Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand. Box 3, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
The peace didn’t last though. His orders were to join the 1st Cavalry Division. He was assigned to Company A of the 227th Aviation Regiment, Helicopter Battalion. At first, he flew supply runs with an instructor pilot but before long he was flying in combat missions.
First page of a letter from L.H. Klahn Jr. to his parents, August 25, 1967. Box 1, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
Klahn had encounters with the Viet Cong from the air and in one memorable incident early in his deployment, on the ground. He wrote:
I guess your son is some kind of hero – I didn’t fly today, so I went to a lot of shops, took a lot of pictures and bought a grass mat for my area. Well, walking back I got lost, and ended up on one of the side streets. I stopped to take a picture of a Budha [sic] temple when I noticed this guy sitting in his yard eating as fast as he could. He wore the typical black pajamas and had a rifle sitting beside him. Like a fool I started walking toward him, he started running – I ran around the house and he ran almost into me – we just stood there looking at each other – then I motioned with my pistol for him to drop his rifle – and he did. I then took him to the MP’s [Military Police] – and he turned out to be a VC [Viet Cong]. I just got thru talking to the major, and he said he would put me in for some medal. That’s the last time I’ll do something like that – next time he’ll probably start shooting.
Klahn learned to endure sniper fire. He flew combat troops into landing zones. He marveled at the way in which everyday life for many of the Vietnamese continued, despite the war raging on. And he wrote, “I like what I am doing, and it’s doing some good.”
By September of 1967, Klahn was already anticipating a springtime R&R trip to Hawaii to meet up with his wife, Jan. He flew on missions further north, writing, “I understand that the VC have a battalion headquarters and hospital up here [near Song Mao], but we can never find it.” The Army supplied Klahn with a carton of cigarettes a week and an unlimited supply of candy, but it was salty snacks from home that he missed the most. So, his parents sent him Wheat Thins and Cheez-Its.
On October 5, 1967, Klahn wrote:
We are getting ready to move…all indications are that we will move to the area around the DMZ zone. We have been told that we can only take 3 bags. We had a bad accident here today, 3 people were killed, and one was burned badly. Both pilots were killed – they both lived in the same tent as I do and were close friends. Only one was married. They were returning from a CA [combat assault] in a flight of 5 – they were the 4th A/C [aircraft] – they were landing when they went out of control – due to a mechanical failure in the flight controls and crashed. It started to burn, but since they were low on fuel it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but all were burned. It really hits home when something like this happens, we all expect being shot at, and possibly hit, but when the A/C just fall apart it just isn’t fair.
By mid-October, Klahn wrote, “I sure do enjoy flying…even though the strain etc is starting to wear me out.” Days off were few and far between. Klahn had flown forty days with just a single day’s break. He noted that further north:
[T]hey are getting shot at a little more than we are, but they have a policy that when they receive fire they shoot up the whole village, the people are starting to learn that it’s not safe to shoot at one – that’s the case down here. Here’s why – if you get shot at, in 10 to 15 min. we can … air lift troops to the area … plus the gun ship are there by [the] time we are, so Charlie [a colloquial term for the Viet Cong] doesn’t have much time to get away.
December found Klahn in another close call with the Viet Cong. He described it to his parents:
We have been having all kinds of action lately – most of the LZ’s [landing zones] that we have been going into have been hot. Before we went in we had an air strike, and artillery prep, then then gun ships went it, then us – but the VC being dug in as good as they were, it didn’t do much – the first ship got in, so did the second, the third got half its troops off, then the VC shot down #2, he was hit so bad that he was losing all his fuel so he flew it back in to the LZ, because there just wasn’t any other place to go because of trees – the third ship got hit real bad on the way out – I was the 4th ship, but we never did land in the LZ hence we didn’t get shot. I sure feel lucky because I would have been on that second ship, but the AC [Aircraft Commander] wanted to fly with a new guy to give him so training, so I was #4 – hence I didn’t have to spend the night on the ground with the VC.
The end of December 1967 brought a 24-hour Christmas Day truce and a turkey dinner for the troops. But Klahn still flew his normal missions writing, “without a calendar it would be just another day in Vietnam.” When Klahn wasn’t flying, he was busy writing all kinds of reports as the company safety officer. And he was also building a hooch [colloquial for a rudimentary house] for himself. In one of his letters home, he drew a sketch and wrote:
Looks like we’ll be here a while, so we have started to improve our housing…We had a good floor and it had sand bags around it – so all we had to do is put our tent over it. Then we built an addition on to it, so it makes all kinds of room for two people. It looks something like this.
Page of a letter from L.H. Klahn Jr. to his parents showing his plan for a new house, January 28, 1968. Box 2, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
By February, Klahn had been moved northwest of the town of Hue. He wrote:
It is called Camp Evans. It doesn’t have an air field, but one is to be completed soon. The fighting is very heavy but the NVA [North Vietnamese Army] have been taking heavy casualties. If we can ever get decent weather we’ll be more effective. At the present time we have been flying with 200ft ceilings – and the NVA have taken advantage of it. The city of Hue was considered the most beautiful city in the country – it had the countries [sic] university – had canals with tree lined gardens along all the streets, etc. Well, it has had at least 1/3 destroyed, and when the weather breaks we’ll be making assaults on it. Plus air strikes are planned, so as to level the city…Camp Evans has been mortared almost every night and the heart does jump when they start landing.
As the month closed, Klahn voiced some frustration to his parents, writing:
[E]verything has been the usual army way – the weather is terrible (150’ ceiling), the NVA shoot at you all the time, and they still haven’t given our R&R…We have had quite a few A/C [aircraft] shot – plus about 1/3 damage due to our about nightly mortar attacks…The fighting is typical WWII & Korean wars tactics. They have their positions, and we ours. The fighting is heavy and constant … all we do is fly log and med evac… besides being scared a few times I am fine.
Map showing Camp Evans, Hue and Phan Thiet, Vietnam sent by L.H. Klahn Jr. to his parents, March 2, 1968. Box 2, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
In March 1968, Klahn’s long awaited R&R finally came through. But the return to the war required some adjustment. Still, he remained optimistic, writing:
Well, I am back fighting the war – but with only 4 months to go time should pass rather quickly…There’s no way to describe the trip – it was really enjoyable and a welcome relief from this place. But coming back…was really a let down as you can imagine.
On April 14, 1968, Klahn wrote:
The main reason for this letter is to inform you that I received a slight wound and didn’t want you to worry when you get a notice from the Army that I have been wounded. I was on a night hunter mission and we put our foot into somewhere that it shouldn’t have been. We were shot down, and in the process I received light shrapnel wounds to the left leg. But it’s ok – I’ll be flying in a few days and looks like I’ll get that purple heart along with another DFC [Distinguished Flying Cross] that I have been put in for, for last night’s extravaganza.
The month of May brought more problems for Klahn. He was hospitalized, first at the 95th Evac Hospital at Da Nang and then the 6th Convalescent Center at Cam Ranh Bay. After some confusion about the diagnosis, it was determined that he had a bad case of mononucleosis. He wrote:
I don’t feel too bad now – but up at Evans I thought I would die. There was a span of 8 days where I didn’t eat a thing … In any case I only have 70 some days left in country – and I will not fly again over here if I have anything to do with it.
After 30 days convalescing, Klahn returned to the war. And by June 22, 1968, he was back in the pilot’s seat “due to the fact that I got bored stiff.” Then came good news – Klahn was being promoted to Chief Warrant Officer 2. By July, his passion for flying was superseded by his desire to return home to Colorado. Upon learning of his discharge date, Klahn, with his sense of humor still intact, sent this tongue-in-cheek letter to his parents.
Letter from L.H. Klahn Jr. to his parents announcing his discharge, July 1968. Box 2, L.H. Klahn Jr. papers.
On August 7, 1968, Klahn returned to Colorado, having flown a total of 909 hours in Vietnam. He had served valiantly and survived despite the odds. This Veterans Day, we remember Klahn and the millions more who were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, fighting heroically to uphold American ideals far from home. You can read L.H. Klahn Jr.’s letters to his parents at the American Heritage Center or access the digitized letters here.
This month is Native American Heritage month, and this year, the American Heritage Center has chosen to highlight two student interns currently working on an internship project with us. Georgie Moss and Darwin St. Clair are working with the Native American collections to assist in the ethical stewardship of our collections related to Native and Indigenous communities.
Left to right: Georgie Moss and Darwin St. Clair.
These two interns are affiliated with the Native American Education, Research, & Cultural Center (NAERCC) at the University of Wyoming. They’re focusing on collections associated with primarily the Northern Arapaho, Eastern Shoshone, and Crow nations to help the AHC begin to identify, evaluate, and develop protocols for engaging tribal communities in discussions about the future stewardship of these collections.
The goals of the internship include providing the students with archival research skills and archival handling and evaluation experience. In return, these students aim to help us begin to better understand our Native American collections, their relationships to tribal nations, and help us begin to plan how to steward these collections moving forward.
This semester Georgie and Darwin began looking through some of the AHC’s collections that center around or contain Native American material. They have looked at the Demitri B. Shimkin papers, the John Roberts papers, and have just begun reviewing the Emily Hill and Dorothy Tappy Ghost Dance Audio collection. They examined the material within these collections and began to make observations on the content.
Arapaho to English translations in Box 1, Folder 14 of the John Roberts papers at the American Heritage Center.
Darwin is a senior in UW’s Education program. He’ll be student teaching in the spring, and wants to teach math once he graduates. He was surprised at some of the material in the AHC’s holdings, and that anyone can come look at the breadth of resources available here. He noticed that, although the Shimkin papers has many interviews with tribal members, there were no names for half of the people interviewed. He’s been working to contact the Tribal Historic Preservation Officer to see if they have some of the place names he has come across on maps, or anything on the reservation. Darwin is enjoying the internship and the AHC is certainly benefitting from his work and knowledge.
Georgie is a sophomore in the Secondary Education program within UW’s Environment & Natural Resources department. Outside the classroom, she enjoys sewing, beading, photography, and spending time outdoors. Her love of learning new things drew her to this internship opportunity. A highlight for Georgie was discovering the language material written in cursive throughout the collections. She found the interviews and language records particularly compelling as she and Darwin spent about two months working through the Shimkin papers.
The American Heritage Center is eager to learn from these two students as they chart a path forward for stewarding these collections. Both students have begun to develop ideas regarding types of collection material we should steward more carefully, especially regarding content related to the Sun Dance. They’ll produce an end-of-semester report recommending which materials may require limited access and which should become priorities for enhanced stewardship practices.
The project’s end goal is the formation of a working group to advise on community participation and collection stewardship with the tribal nations. This group will provide recommendations for how the AHC can engage with these communities in the care and decision-making involved in stewarding these collections. Eventually the working group will assist us with recommendations for a standing advisory board or other group to work with both the AHC and tribal nations. This advisory board would provide guidelines and procedures for the Center to follow when using, collecting, or otherwise caring for Native American collection materials.
Moving forward with this internship and these long-term goals, the AHC hopes to build and strengthen ties with tribal communities, honoring their deep history in Wyoming through respectful care of these collections.
We thank Georgie and Darwin for stepping up to help us take these first steps and look forward to the continued collaboration with both the NAERCC and the tribal communities.
Post contributed by AHC Processing Archivist Brittany Heye.
Last Halloween, we introduced the recently processed papers of author Robert Bloch, best known as the author of the novel Psycho (1959), which was adapted in 1960 by Alfred Hitchcock into the legendary film of the same name. In that blog post, we explored materials in the Bloch papers related to both Bloch’s novel and Hitchcock’s film. In the decade that followed, Bloch was extremely prolific, writing novels, short stories, and scripts for movies and episodes of television series. Now we will explore some of the materials in the collection representing that work.
Novels
During the 1960s, Bloch published no less than six novels, as well as an anthology of two novellas (Ladies’ Day / This Crowded Earth). Among those novels are two that Bloch discussed in some detail in his autobiography, Once Around the Bloch (1993).
The Star Stalker (1968) – Bloch originally titled this novel “Colossal,” which he described as “a saga of silent-screen Hollywood during the twenties which ended with the advent of sound.” Explaining the delay in getting this book published, Bloch stated in his autobiography:
The nostalgia boom wasn’t ‘in,’ film historians were just beginning to probe the past, and biographies of stars and directors had yet to attain best-seller status. In the end, it took a dozen years for the book to reach print in paperback. Even then, the publishers disguised its contents by changing my title to ‘The Star Stalker,’ with a deliberately misleading blurb and cover art to match.
“Although a carbon, this is the original manuscript of the novel published as The Star Stalker by Pyramid in 1968. The first copy was lost. I then revised this version – shortening it and adding various episodes, but all is based on this copy.” – Robert Bloch. Box 247, Bloch papers.
The Todd Dossier (1969) – As Bloch explained in his note accompanying the copy of the novel in his papers:
This is the novel I wrote and which Dell (Delacorte is their hardcover branch) put out in hardcover (which was not specified in our contract) and then issued under the name of Collier Young, who had a screenplay written by John [Gregoty] Dunne and his wife [Joan Didion] – from which I made the novelization. The film wasn’t made – and none of us got credit except the man who wasn’t responsible! Again, my contract didn’t specify that my name would appear as the author – but who would expect otherwise? Very Odd!
More novels by Bloch found in his papers.
“This was my first screenplay from a story treatment by Blake Edwards and Owen Crump, who produced it. I was asked to novelize it, and did. Note comments on Hollywood.” – Robert Bloch ‘66
“A strange novel which I hope to do one day as a film” – Robert Bloch
“A novel with a sympathetic and innocent young hero, for a change. Nobody quite believed I wrote it.” – Robert Bloch ‘66
“First publication of Ladies Day anywhere – plus first book publication of my short science fiction novel – This Crowded Earth – written before the ‘population explosion’ was a popular menace” – Robert Bloch
Film
During the decade, Bloch wrote scripts for six theatrical feature films. Among those films were Strait-Jacket (1964), a thriller directed by William Castle and starring Joan Crawford that has retrospectively come to be known as part of the “psycho-biddy” or “hagsploitation” sub-genre. Bloch’s papers include multiple items related to this project: two drafts of his script, call sheets and other documents produced during the making of the film, and several posters advertising the film, including one from Australia and one from Belgium. Also included among these materials are two drawings of sets (a house and a railroad depot) for the film by production designer Boris Leven.
“This is a copy of the final version of Strait Jacket. Stayed with me through casting, rehearsal, shooting and post-production. It includes the actual shooting schedule which follows script. This shows how the film was broken down for production.” – Robert Bloch. Box 251, Bloch papers.
Set designs by Boris Leven for Strait-Jacket. Box 360, Bloch papers.
“Design for ‘Straitjacket’ set by Boris Leven, Academy Award-winning set designer working on my film through production, as I did. I was given the opportunity to study various phases of production techniques – of which set design was one.” – Robert Bloch
“Design for ‘Straitjacket’ set by Boris Levin. During the filming I was constantly amazed at how this ingenious man (who designed ‘West Side Story’ among other films) would create, as in this instance, a realistic railroad depot and environs by using a few sheets of cardboard and proper lighting.” – Robert Bloch
Bloch also wrote the script for another Castle-directed thriller, The Night Walker. As he explained in Once Around the Bloch:
An Australian housewife had sent [director William Castle] an unsolicited screenplay. Storyline, characters, dialogue and setting were all impossible to consider, but Bill was interested in what remained. The basic concept was the dilemma faced by a person who could no longer clearly differentiate between dream and reality.
Included in the collection are a draft of Bloch’s script and Belgian poster promoting the film. Also included is the novelization of the film, which was written by Michael Avallone, using the pseudonym “Sidney Stuart.” (The collection also contains numerous letters written from Avallone to Bloch.)
“I did an original screenplay, which was for The Night Walker (Universal, 1964) and it was novelized, with my permission, by Michael Avalonne [sic], under a pseudonym. Note that I wrote an introduction for this volume.” – Robert Bloch. Box 351, Bloch papers.
Items from The Deadly Bees, a 1967 British horror film based on H.F. Heard’s 1941 novel A Taste for Honey. The original screenplay was by Robert Bloch but was rewritten by Anthony Marriott. Box 249, Bloch papers.
The Psychopath (also known as Schizo) is a 1966 British horror film written by Robert Bloch. It was an Amicus production. Box 251, Bloch papers.
“A writer may approach his screen-play for a certain regard for restraint and good taste – then the advertising department gets in on the act and – see what happens!” Robert Bloch ‘66
“Adapted by me from four of my published short stories – Enoch, Terror over Hollywood, Mr. Steinway, and The Man Who Collected Poe. This is the ‘release script,’ based on the time-study of the edited final print of the film itself. I do not approve, nor am I responsible, for the ‘non-camera’ gore added by the people who made the picture – or for the introduction of a cat into Enoch!” – Robert Bloch. Box 251, Bloch papers.
German adaptation of the film Torture Garden.film
“Three cheers for our side!” – Robert Bloch
The Skull was a 1965 British film based on the short story “The Skull of the Marquis de Sade” by Robert Bloch. Box 365, Bloch papers.
The film was produced by Amicus Productions and released and promoted in the U.S. by Paramount Pictures.
Television
During the 1960s, Bloch wrote scripts for episodes of numerous television series, including Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Lock Up, Thriller, I Spy, Run for Your Life, and The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. He also wrote the scripts for three episodes of the original Star Trek series – “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” (season 1, episode 7, 1966), “Catspaw” (season 2, episode 7, 1967), and “Wolf in the Fold” (season 2, episode 14, 1967).
The latter is of particular interest because it incorporates his concept of Jack the Ripper, from his story “Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper,” which was first published in the July 1943 issue of the pulp magazine Weird Tales. As Bloch explained in his autobiography, this episode was the “result of Dorothy Fontana’s suggestion that I launch my old friend Jack the Ripper into orbit. She provided considerable assistance in the final draft.” The collection contains Bloch’s outline for the episode and multiple drafts of his script. Included with these materials is a note from Bloch expressing his dissatisfaction with the development of the episode.
Box 116, Bloch papers.
“Another horrible example teleplay development of Wolf in the Fold showing how 1967 network and studio executives arbitrarily call the tune – and, in this instance, then proceed to change their own directions when they see what they suggest will not work. You might call this a lesson in how not to write a teleplay.” – Robert Bloch
“One over – all problem – a lack of action. This may be partially substituted for by a strong indictment of Scott as the probable killer, + his subsequent jeopardy.” – Robert Bloch. Box 253, Bloch papers.
What the Archive Reveals
The materials from the 1960s in the Robert Bloch papers reveal an author at the height of his creative powers, successfully navigating multiple media in the wake of Psycho’s phenomenal success. From novels that struggled to find their audience to successful collaborations with William Castle, from television scripts for iconic series like Star Trek to the frustrations of uncredited work, these documents capture both the triumphs and challenges of a working writer in Hollywood’s golden age of horror and suspense.
Researchers interested in the evolution of horror and thriller genres, the business of adaptation and novelization, or the intersection of literature and visual media will find rich material for study in Bloch papers. The collection offers not just the finished products of a prolific career, but the drafts, correspondence, and production materials that illuminate the creative process behind some of the era’s most memorable entertainment.
Happy Halloween!
Post contributed by AHC Processing Archivist and resident film expert Roger Simon.
