In honor of the beginning of this year’s National Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15th – October 15th), today we look at the history of the Manito Trail and the interdisciplinary Following the Manito Trail exhibit that tells its story.
As previously covered in our blogs on Laramie’s Latin Club and the Powell Tribune’s 1927 Spanish-language La Pagina Español, Wyoming has both a rich past and rich present of Hispanic and Latine populations. One facet of this is Wyoming’s community of Manitos and Manitas. Drawing from endearing diminutive forms of hermano and hermana, Manito and Manita have come to describe Hispanic New Mexicans who left New Mexico to seek out work in various other states, including Wyoming.
Laying the Roots
As Manito/as spread out and took on jobs in agriculture, the railroad, mines, and sheepherding, to name a few, there developed what poet and University of New Mexico (UNM) academic Levi Romero referred to as a “Manito trail” along Interstate 25, from Albuquerque to Cheyenne. Many of these families have since settled in Wyoming, rebuilding their New Mexican cultures in the Cowboy State.
As a project, Following the Manito Trail began officially in 2015, co-directed by Romero and Dr. Vanessa Fonseca-Chávez, then an Assistant Professor of Latina/o Studies and English at UW. Both shared their own familial Manito/a roots and were spurred on to collect oral histories of Manito/as who came to call Wyoming home, building on interviews previously recorded by Romero’s students in 2007. Another vital member of the project was Manita Dr. Trisha Martínez, then pursuing her doctorate at UNM. The very first oral history she reviewed on the project was miraculously of her own grandmother, Alice Martínez.
Following the Manito Trail’s First Exhibit
Logo for the Following the Manito Trail project and exhibit.
The Following the Manito Trail exhibit debuted in 2017 at the American Heritage Center, weaving a colorful tapestry of Manito/a stories across time and space, and across many mediums. The interweaving stories of the Manito/a communities throughout Wyoming were told by archival documents, oral histories, family and project photographs, and a heritage quilt loaned by Riverton Manita Annie Mejorado.
Nicanor Martínez (L), Elezaida Montoya Martínez (R), and Maximiliana Martínez (Center). Laramie, Wyoming. 1951. Maximiliana was interviewed as a part of the Following the Manito Trail project. Photo courtesy of Following the Manito Trail.
There were additionally three documentaries created for the project. One told the story of the South Park Barrio in Riverton, where Manito/a neighbors, including Mejorado, came together in 1986 to repave the streets of their neighborhood after a lack of response and multiple denials of grants from the city. Another documented the carvings, known as arborglyphs, left behind by Manito sheepherders on the aspen trees of the Sierra Madres in southern Wyoming as early as 1905. The third told the story of a Manito family’s journey to Wyoming through both oral history and song.
An example of an arborglyph found in the Sierra Madre Range. Courtesy of Amanda Castañeda, Wyoming Archaeology.
The exhibit has since become a traveling exhibit, traveling to locations such as Taos’s Millicent Rogers Museum, and recently, Cheyenne’s CHISPA Festival. With every installation, the project only grows.
Manito Futures: In Conversation with Dr. Trisha Martínez
In pulling this blog together, I had the wonderful opportunity to speak to Dr. Martínez (who is now an Assistant Professor of American Cultural Studies here at UW) about both the meaning and the future of Following the Manito Trail. At the heart of the ongoing project is connection and the acknowledgement of complex identities, as well as empowering Manito/as of Wyoming to be seen and valued as integral members of the state’s community.
Another important facet is the theme of place and the power of memory as it weaves into querencia, or one’s sense of a cherished place, where one draws their strength and sense of belonging. At the time of writing, Martínez’s grandmother, Alice, has sadly passed. With her voice being what strongly drew her into Following the Manito Trail in its beginnings, Martínez commented upon how the sense you have of a place can change greatly when those you associate with it are gone. For this reason, it becomes all the more important to document the stories of elders, to preserve and honor those memories and querencias.
Following the Manito Trail is set to return to the American Heritage Center in 2027, from September through February. If you have family stories woven into the Manito trail, please feel free to reach out to Dr. Martínez for more information at tmarti40@uwyo.edu.
For further reading on the Manito trails that extend across the United States, consider visiting the Manitos Community Memory Project’s Digital Resolana. Some of the oral histories from the Following the Manito Trail project can also be listened to online here.
Post contributed by AHC Audiovisual Archivist Aide Marty Murray.
Dr. Sajaudeen Nijamodeen Chapparban, Assistant Professor of Diaspora Studies at Central University of Gujarat, India, was awarded the 2024 Women in Public Life Fellowship to research “The Leadership in Hijab: A Study of Muslim Women Leaders, Writers, and Celebrities in the USA after 9/11.” Here, he shares his experience at the American Heritage Center.
An Unexpected Welcome
My journey began on May 19, 2025, when I left my native Latur, Maharashtra, India, arriving in Laramie three days later after an exhausting trip through Denver. Though the travel was challenging, the warmth I received at the American Heritage Center made it all worthwhile.
Ganjgolai, the heart of Dr. Chapparban’s hometown of Latur. This bustling circular marketplace, built in 1917, connects 16 roads filled with traditional markets selling everything from gold jewelry to local spices. Photo by Sanket Oswal, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International.Downtown Laramie, Wyoming. The scenes of this historic railroad town offered a completely different world for Dr. Chapparban, and provided a fitting backdrop for exploring new perspectives on Muslim women’s stories in America. Photo from Visit Laramie.
It was only my second day, and I had a splitting headache. Someone suggested the third-floor coffee station, but I stood there hesitantly, unsure how to use it. Just then, a tall, energetic man in a light-colored blazer—somewhere between yellow and beige—walked by. Sensing my confusion, he approached without hesitation and offered help.
“Yes, I need a coffee, but I don’t know how to get it,” I admitted. He guided me patiently, handed me a mug, and helped me get my much-needed cup of coffee.
What stunned me was discovering that this humble, gracious person was Professor Paul Flesher, Director of the American Heritage Center. In that simple gesture, I recalled our friendly email exchanges regarding the Center’s fellowships, and I introduced myself.
Discovering the “Cowboy State”
Before coming to Wyoming, I knew little about the American Heritage Center in the heart of the “Cowboy State.” I saw iron statues of cows and cowboys on the way to the Laramie Walmart, various signboards with quotes about cowboys and cowgirls. This fellowship provided me the opportunity to explore one of the most significant archival repositories of the American West.
A cowboy statue that Dr. Chapparban encountered daily across the street from the American Heritage Center. University of Wyoming image.The “Breakin’ Through” statue is located just down the street from the AHC. There’s something perfect about a researcher studying women breaking barriers working right next to a cowgirl literally breaking through walls. Photo from Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
At the entrance to the AHC’s reading room, I encountered an image of Owen Wister and his novel The Virginian. Having previously read Wister’s work about tensions between Eastern refinement and Western ruggedness, I was now encountering the real voices and records of early migrants through their detailed diaries and letters. These primary sources allowed me to see beyond the literary myth into the lived reality of these east-to-west transitions.
Rich Research Discoveries
My research was divided into two parts. At the AHC, I explored numerous collections about early immigrants, their struggles, Great Plains crossings, and settlement in the USA. The W.W. Morrison collection contained diaries, biographies, autobiographies, letters, and photos of early immigrants—mostly Euro-American migrants, but I also found traces of non-Euro-American migrants including Africans, Arabs, Asians, Chinese, and South Asians.
One particularly powerful account was Cecelia Emily McMillen Adams’ diary, which recounted the brutal realities of overland migration from New York to Oregon, including deaths from cholera and poisoned water. Grace Raymond Hebard’s papers featured milestones in the women’s suffrage movement, as Hebard collaborated with Carrie Chapman Catt in securing the 19th Amendment, emphasizing women’s rights across race and social class. The Tom Anderson papers provided details about racial immigrant policies, white supremacist organizations like the Ku Klux Klan, and early Muslims in the USA including Black Muslims.
Carrie Chapman Catt (center) and Dr. Grace Raymond Hebard (left center) at UW in 1921, celebrating Catt’s honorary degree. Dr. Chapparban studied Hebard’s papers, which documented the two women’s collaboration to secure the 19th Amendment—part of the long history of women fighting for political recognition and equality that connects to his research on Muslim women’s leadership struggles in post-9/11 America. Photo file: Hebard, Grace Raymond, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
At the University of Wyoming’s Coe Library, I focused on contemporary history—Muslims in the US, 9/11, and hijab-wearing women’s experiences in post-9/11 American society. I collected over 100 articles and 30 books on these topics.
A Documentary Discovery
Thanks to The Great Muslim American Road Trip by hijabi rapper Mona Haydar, particularly Episode 2 “A Bridge Over Troubled Waters: Tulsa to Albuquerque, New Mexico,” I traced the early presence and evolving identity of Muslims in the United States. This episode follows an American Muslim couple’s journey along Route 66, uncovering vital yet often overlooked narratives of Islam in America, including how African American Muslims played a foundational role in shaping America’s religious and cultural history—long before 9/11.
Future Impact
The archival materials I gathered will contribute to future research papers, including studies on migration and settlement patterns of early immigrants and the fashioning of hijab identity in America.
As a professor of Migration and Diaspora Studies, I observed that while European immigrants saw themselves as “pioneers” or “permanent settlers,” others from different racial and cultural backgrounds are projected with hyphenated identities (African-American, Arab-American, Asian-American), shaping the discourse of color, migration, and belonging.
Two mannequins; one to the left wearing a hijab in the style of a shayla and one to the right wearing a hijab in the style of a niqaab. Photo by Hijabis4ever, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported.
I have already informed students to apply for this fellowship. I will definitely highlight the scholarly potential of AHC to my students and network. The ocean of material available about early immigrants and their crossing of the great plains is immense—these collections not only provided scholarly data but inspired me to explore themes I hadn’t previously considered.
The People Who Made It Special
Special thanks to Leslie Waggener and the wonderful energetic AHC team including Vicki Glantz, Ginny Kilander, Rob Kelly, Jamie Greene, and others. Leslie was instrumental behind this visit and has been a guiding, encouraging source throughout this successful academic stay.
I’m also grateful to the welcoming community at the Islamic Center of Laramie, which became a spiritual and social home during my stay. Thanks to brother Md Faqrul Islam and his wife, who graciously provided homemade meals for my first three days when dining facilities were closed. Meeting fellow immigrants and scholars—including those with Green Cards—added new insights to my understanding of migration and diaspora in the USA.
The Women in Public Life Fellowship supports a 20-day research stay at the AHC for scholars from graduate students to tenured faculty. Applications for the 2026 fellowship are due March 31, 2026. Learn more at uwyo.edu/ahc. Other fellowship and grant opportunities are also available at the AHC.
In the annals of American paleontology, William Harlow Reed occupies a unique place—a self-taught fossil hunter whose keen eye and determination helped shape our understanding of the prehistoric West. Through his groundbreaking work at Como Bluff, Reed was instrumental in establishing Wyoming as one of the world’s most important centers for paleontological discovery. His career bridged the frontier era of fossil hunting and the emerging professionalism of museum science during the Gilded Age, leaving a legacy in the field of paleontology.
A Chance Encounter with Prehistory
Reed’s introduction to paleontology came almost by accident. Known as “Bill” to his friends and contemporaries, Reed initially moved west to shovel snow for the Union Pacific Railroad but later worked as a hunter and angler. In 1877, near Como Bluff, he stumbled upon massive, fossilized bones on the hillside. His discovery occurred during a pivotal moment in American science, when the professional rivalry and competition between paleontologists Othniel Charles Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope—commonly referred to as the “Bone Wars”—was at its height.
William Harlow Reed in fossil quarry, 1894. S.H. Knight papers, Coll. No. 400044, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming
After his discovery, Reed and Como Station agent William Edwards Carlin wrote to Marsh at Yale University about the fossils. Reed soon found himself drawn into the highly publicized and contentious competition between the scientists. Reed continued to excavate fossils for Marsh for six years and helped to unearth some of the most remarkable prehistoric specimens of the 19th century, many of which remain on display today.
Como Bluff: A Fossil Treasure Trove
Stretching for roughly eight miles along the Union Pacific Railroad between Rock River and Medicine Bow, the Como Bluff site would become one of the most significant fossil beds in North America. Its sandstone and shale layers date back more than 140 million years to the Late Jurassic, a time when giant sauropods, predatory theropods, and early mammals roamed.
The site’s discovery in the late 1870s opened an unprecedented chapter in paleontology. Fossils from Como Bluff included not only famous giants like Diplodocus, Apatosaurus, and Stegosaurus, but also rare specimens that shed light on prehistoric ecosystems as a whole. The richness of the fossil beds meant that even eroded fragments could lead to major scientific breakthroughs—in fact, Reed discovered a number of prehistoric mammals. The sheer quantity and diversity of material excavated here transformed museum collections around the world, cementing Como Bluff’s place as a cornerstone of paleontological research.
Highway sign about seven miles from Medicine Bow noting “Dinosaur Graveyard” in Como Bluffs. AHC Photo Files, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Como Bluff yielded an extraordinary range of Late Jurassic and early Cretaceous fossils, from enormous, long-necked sauropods to massive marine reptiles like the Baptanodon. Reed’s knowledge of the region was instrumental in bringing these specimens to light, expanding scientific knowledge of the Mesozoic. Even today, the site is recognized as a landmark in paleontology for its richness and historical importance.
For Reed, Como Bluff was both a livelihood and a lifelong connection. He returned many times over the years, often guiding expeditions or revisiting earlier sites to locate more complete skeletons. His knowledge of the terrain—and his willingness to endure the remote and often harsh conditions—helped fuel the site’s continued productivity. A renowned angler, he even found the time to fish during his work. In a 1955 letter, Reed’s son-in-law recalls that Reed’s daughter, Dorothy Reed Patterson, once remarked that her father “always located fossil fields near a promising trout stream, convinced, no doubt that dinosaurs discriminated in their choice of a cemetery.”
From the Field to the Museum
Reed’s fieldwork, largely conducted in the many quarries at Como Bluff, eventually led to a new chapter in his career. After three years of collecting fossils and paleontological specimens for the University of Wyoming, Reed was appointed as a curator of the University’s newly established natural history museum in 1897 by Wilbur Knight.
Undated inventory of the fossils held in the University of Wyoming Museum, written on W.H. Reed’s letterhead, S.H. Knight papers, Coll. No. 400044, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
There, Reed oversaw the preparation and display of specimens for research and education. His practical experience made him an invaluable resource for both scientists and students, and he began teaching paleontology courses at the university—passing on his knowledge to the next generation of students. In fact, the Allosaurus on display in the University of Wyoming Geology Museum today was excavated by Reed.
William Harlow Reed in the museum’s workroom, 1907. S.H. Knight papers, Coll. No. 400044, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
A letter from Reed’s son-in-law recounts that Reed “stocked [the University of Wyoming Museum] with an enormous brontosaurus, a huge skull of a triceratops, a pterodactyl, and numerous other specimens… He was employed at the University of Wyoming from the year 1902 to April 1915, the date of his death.” Reed’s time at the University of Wyoming was interrupted only briefly for a time when he was hired to assist the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh, where he was instrumental in the discovery, excavation, and assembly of the infamous Diplodicus carnegii.
The Diplodocus carnegii
Among Reed’s many accomplishments, one stands out for its scale and spectacle: his role in the famous scientific drama of the Diplodocus carnegii skeleton. The long-necked sauropod—discovered by Reed in a quarry near Sheep Creek in 1899 and named for industrialist and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie—became one of the most celebrated fossils in the world.
A great impetus was given to the work about this time when an article appeared in one of the New York Daily newspapers telling of the discovery in Wyoming by ‘Bill Reeder’ of some of the leg bones of an immense dinosaur.
Undated Pamphlet from the Carnegie Museum. William Harlow Reed papers, Coll. No. 400038, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
After news broke of Reed’s 1898 discovery of a sauropod thigh bone near Medicine Bow, Wyoming, Andrew Carnegie became determined to acquire the specimen. A pamphlet from the Carnegie Museum in Reed’s papers explains that Carnegie “is said to have torn [the article] out and mailed it to Dr. W. J. Holland, then Director of the Carnegie Museum, with a terse annotation: ‘Dear Doctor: Buy this for Pittsburgh! —A.C.’”
Although this initial discovery was unrelated to the specimen later nicknamed “Dippy,” the discovery brought Reed to the Carnegie Museum’s attention. Reed was soon offered a position at the Carnegie Museum, where, in 1899, he discovered and excavated a Diplodocus near Sheep Creek, just north of Como Bluff. Reed’s knowledge of fossil quarries in the region was essential in not only the discovery of the dinosaur, but in preparing and mounting the skeleton. In a 1955 letter from Reed’s son-in-law to Dr. Carl O. Dunbar at the Peabody Museum of Natural History, “The huge diplodocus mounted at the Carnegie Institute was discovered, quarried and shipped to Pittsburgh by Mr. Reed, who spent two years there… assembling and mounting it.”
Under the supervision of Arthur S. Coggeshall, casts of the Diplodocus would go on to be displayed in museums across Europe and the United States, making it a fixture in American and European natural history museums.
A Lasting Legacy
Reed’s career reflected the transformation of paleontology from a frontier pursuit to a structured scientific discipline. His work at Como Bluff, his role in building the University of Wyoming’s fossil collections, and his efforts in education left an enduring legacy for the state and for science. Through his discoveries, curatorial work, and teaching, William Harlow Reed helped ensure that the prehistoric past would be preserved—and that Wyoming’s fossil heritage would remain central to the story of paleontology.
Post contributed by AHC Audiovisual Archivist, Jessica LaBozetta.
To learn more about the Bone Wars and “Dippy,” Carnegie’s famous dinosaur discovered by William Harlow Reed, the author recommends the excellent work by Tom Rea, Bone Wars: The Excavation and Celebrity of Andrew Carnegie’s Dinosaur.
Sources:
Breithaupt, B. H. (1990). Biography of William Harlow Reed: The story of a frontier fossil collector. Earth Sciences History, 9(1), 6–13.
Rea, T. (2001). Bone Wars: The excavation and celebrity of Andrew Carnegie’s dinosaur. University of Pittsburgh Press.
A fraternity dance imbued with alcohol. A Christmas party where alcohol was given as gifts, and whose recipients were required to chug it on site. A “beer bust” involving seventeen sorority members at a formal dinner dance. An 18-year-old boy found passed out in the rain at the door of the post office.
Sound familiar? No, they’re not headlines or case notes from last weekend’s police blotter. They’re incidents brought to the Social Committee of the University of Wyoming. From the 1950s.
Although not from the 1950s, students were partying way before then. Here are UW students at a ’49er dance during the 1925-1926 school year. Image ah301073, Ludwig & Svenson Studio Photographs, Coll. No. 167, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.Unfortunately for interested students, the Social Committee abolished the ’49er dance the next year in 1927. This is an excerpt from Social Committee meeting minutes, March 8, 1927. Box 2, University of Wyoming. Division of Student Affairs records, Coll. No. 541000, American Heritage Center.
As a graduate student in a qualitative research methods class, I went to the American Heritage Center (AHC) to gain experience conducting archival research. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for or what I might find, but having worked for seventeen years at UW in the Division of Student Affairs, I decided to see what archival records might exist about student life.
The archivist in the AHC’s fourth floor reading room directed me to several boxes on a cart they had retrieved for me in reference to “student affairs.” I opened up a small blue box—labeled Box #2—and was excited to find it full of manilla file folders. They were labeled in pencil with dates ranging from 1925 to 1958. The folders held meeting minutes, notes, and notebooks from “Associated Women Students,” “Mortar Board,” “Panhellenic Council,” “Record of Events/Developments During Dean E. Luella Galliver’s Tenure,” and “Social Committee.”
Curious about the “Social Committee,” I removed the folder and peeked inside. There were probably 100 or so papers, mostly typed, but some handwritten in flowery cursive. The paper was thin, nearly translucent, and I was almost afraid to touch it. I imagined the clicking sound of an old typewriter as I scanned the meeting notes, looking for anything interesting. It didn’t take me long to realize that this folder was what I had been looking for – reading through the Social Committee file was going to be fun.
Diving into the UW Social Committee
The early papers from the 1920s were minutes from what was then called the Social Committee. At some point, the name was changed to “Faculty Social Committee.” From what I could gather, the Social Committee or Faculty Social Committee wasn’t necessarily about planning for or engaging in social events. Instead, it was more about regulating activities and events, and reviewing student conduct concerns. Meeting minutes listed the members present and members absent. Several members appeared to be deans – Dean Galliver, who was the Dean of Women, and whose photo was also in the box; Dean Bishop; Dean Hill; and Dean Soulo, to name a few. Other members included Miss Hussey, Mrs. McKitterick, Mrs. DeKay, and Miss Weed.
E. Luella Galliver was the Dean of Women at the University of Wyoming from 1933-1964. Many of her files can be found in the American Heritage Center archives. Box 2, University of Wyoming. Division of Student Affairs records, Coll. No. 541000, American Heritage Center.
In December 1925, the committee discussed dances hosted by the Associated Students of the University of Wyoming (ASUW). A guest at the meeting, Mr. Corbett, requested that two janitors be hired for cleaning up after a dance. The committee agreed that $2.50 per janitor would be a fair price. They also discussed the question of wax on the gymnasium floor. “This is a vexatious question with the whole Physical Education department, as a slippery floor is very dangerous for all types of physical education activity.” A discussion ensued about a need for a “floor committee” for ASUW dances.
The committee heard a request that “university girls be permitted to attend a DeMolay dance” in November 1933. Social Committee members approved the request, with the condition that they follow university rules about “chaperonage.” In the same meeting, significant discussion occurred about a request from the Interfraternity Council (IFC) to abolish the requirement of having a doorman at fraternity functions. Students argued that the “presence of doormen at fraternity parties conveys a humiliating sense of surveillance and excites the ridicule of guests from other colleges.” Committee members discussed the request and ultimately voted to make the hiring of a doorman optional.
Alcohol-Fueled Student Behavior
During the 1950s, the committee saw more alcohol-related conduct issues. On December 15 (year unclear), the committee discussed a student who went into the dorms on a Thursday night. He was “drunk, wanting to fight everyone, [and] using abusive language.” After threatening another student with a straight edge razor, he was taken to the county jail to “sleep it off.” The committee discussed the circumstances of how the student had become so intoxicated and found that he had been at a fraternity party where he received alcohol as part of a gift exchange. The committee discussed the role and responsibility of the fraternity in the incident and ultimately voted to place the fraternity on social probation for the rest of the year. “We are attempting to make it a warning to other groups on campus” said one of the Social Committee members.
Faculty Social Committee members discuss illegal alcohol consumption at a fraternity dance and vote to suspend future social privileges. Excerpt from Faculty Social Committee meeting minutes, December 9, 1952. Box 2, University of Wyoming. Division of Student Affairs records, Coll. No. 541000, American Heritage Center.
In another Social Committee meeting, an 18-year old fraternity pledge and his parents were guests. They were there to discuss an incident that occurred on November 13, 1954. The young pledge had “imbibed excessively at a cocktail party” and was later “found unconscious by the police and was put in jail.” It was unclear how he ended up on the rear ramp of the US Post Office. The cocktail party was an unofficial function but had been organized and attended by about 30 fraternity members and their dates.
Social committee members brought up that other organized groups had been “doing a lot of drinking at their dances” and that perhaps UW should try to regulate them. A motion to suspend all social privileges from the fraternity in question for the winter quarter 1955 was unanimously passed.
Social Committee members hear testimony from guests about a cocktail party with underage fraternity members. Excerpt from Faculty Social Committee meeting minutes, November 13, 1954. Box 2, University of Wyoming. Division of Student Affairs records, Coll. No. 541000, American Heritage Center.
Reading through old UW Social Committee meeting minutes in the AHC was a treat. I enjoyed learning about the escapades and concerns of students from the 1920s through the 1950s. It was also interesting to learn that the escapades and concerns didn’t seem all that different from the escapades and concerns of students and university administrators today.
I encourage anyone interested in a historical perspective of UW student life to visit the AHC and spend some time going through the Student Affairs Social Committee archive.
Post contributed by Lena Newlin, a PhD student in the University of Wyoming’s Public Humanities program.
Explore More UW History
Interested in learning more about the University of Wyoming’s past? Check out these American Heritage Center exhibits: University of Wyoming: A Brief History of Campus explores how UW’s campus developed over the decades, while Keeping History Alive: 136 Years of Progress compares historical campus photographs with images taken in 2023, showing how the buildings where these Social Committee meetings and student incidents occurred have changed and endured over time.
Welcome back to our ongoing series “Designing the University of Wyoming,” which explores the stories behind the campus’s architecture, landmarks, and artistic features that have shaped the university’s identity over the decades.
If you’ve ever wondered why one of UW’s most distinctive buildings looks like a concrete spaceship that landed on the west side of campus, you’re looking at the Classroom Building—affectionately dubbed the “standing rib roast”1 by students who clearly had dining hall food on their minds. But this architectural curiosity has a story worth telling, involving ambitious planning, a community uprising, and 1960s optimism about the power of modern design to transform education. Oh, and not to forget—more than a million tiny ceramic tiles.
The Great Prexy’s Pasture Panic of 1965
The Classroom Building’s journey began in 1962 as part of an ambitious Science Center project. The multi-building complex was designed to include biological and physical science buildings, a science library, computer center, and planetarium—all connected by underground facilities in what would become the most significant building project in the university’s history.2
There was just one problem: the trustees initially sought to build it right on Prexy’s Pasture. Concerned, UW President Duke Humphrey carefully leaked the decision to the Laramie Boomerang’s editor. The subsequent reveal of that choice accounts for the survival intact of the central campus square. Storms of protest battered the trustees from around the state—from alumni, students, legislators, and others.3 The outcry was loud enough that the trustees wisely decided to find a new location between 9th Street and the Arts and Sciences Building. Campus lost the Graduate School Building and the Post Office-Art building but gained a modern science complex—and democracy in campus planning proved it could work.4
View of campus looking east, 1982. The trustees’ original plan was to build the new science complex on the west end of Prexy’s Pasture, immediately east of the Arts & Sciences building. Wiser minds prevailed and the location of the round Classroom Building can be seen in the foreground. Aerial views photo file, American Heritage Center collections. Image ah002532.
Building the “Circle on a Square”
Construction of the complex began in late summer 1966, with the Classroom Building taking the lead. Designed by local firm Hitchcock and Hitchcock, the building was intended to accommodate 2,700 students at once in rooms ranging from 21-seat seminar spaces to 240-seat lecture halls.5 For context, that’s about the size of a decent concert venue.
Architect’s model of the classroom building. Photo from The Branding Iron, July 8, 1966.
The architects created what they called a “circle on a square” design, which solved a very practical problem: The circular interior layout helped prevent students from getting lost in what could have been a maze-like building. The building came equipped with all the latest 1960s educational technology: air conditioning, dimming lights, closed-circuit television,6 and deliberately few windows in many areas.7 The theory was that windows were distracting—whether this actually helped students learn or just made them feel like they were in a bunker is open to debate.
Construction of the Classroom Building. The Laramie Daily Boomerang, November 15, 1967.
The Million-Tile Marvel
The building’s most impressive feature isn’t its concrete bulk—it’s the spectacular murals adorning the open staircase entrances. Created by four UW Art Department faculty members (James Boyle, Richard Evans, Joseph Deaderick, and Victor Flach), these murals use more than one million one-inch ceramic tiles.8 That’s a staggering number of tiny squares, and someone definitely earned their paycheck installing them all.
Each mural represents one of Wyoming’s four quadrants, though the artists took creative liberties with their interpretations. Professor Deaderick described his northeast mural as an “optical illusion” depicting “the environment of the northeast part of Wyoming—the history, the wildlife and the landscape.” According to Deaderick, while “the drawing of the design was not too difficult,” enlarging and proportioning the design proved challenging.9 Professor Flach, who designed the Yellowstone section, explained his approach: “Given limits in theme, how is it possible to achieve universality?” His solution was to create spiral designs that worked on multiple levels, from realistic to symbolic.10
The murals extend two and a half stories and can be viewed from multiple floors. They’re among the more ambitious ceramic installations of their era.
This mural, designed by UW Professor Richard Evans, is, like the other three, designed to illustrate part of Wyoming’s past, present and future. In addition to the fish, seen in the lower right of this picture, the mosaic also pictures a hawk, a bear and large horse’s skull. Photo by Greg Ray, Branding Iron, March 14, 1969.
Modern Marvels and Missing Windows
When the Classroom Building opened on September 6, 1968, just in time for fall classes, the architectural world took notice: McGraw-Hill’s College and University Business magazine named it “College Building of the Month” in 1967, recognizing the university and architects for functional design excellence.11
The Classroom Building’s automatic doors were both a marvel and a hazard when the building opened. As student Monica Miller noted in her tongue-in-cheek piece for The Branding Iron, entering the building meant “trying to outsmart the electric eye doors” where “you risk your life each time you enter.” From The Branding Iron, October 11, 1968.
Students, however, had their own ways of honoring the building. The “standing rib roast” nickname stuck, reflecting both the building’s distinctive silhouette and the eternal student preoccupation with food. The trustees, meanwhile, went with the straightforward “Classroom Building” when they officially named it on April 25, 1968.12 After all that architectural innovation and artistic effort, they chose maximum clarity over poetry.
Not everyone embraced the bold design, though. In 1975, a heated debate erupted in the campus newspaper between critics who found the building uncomfortable and poorly engineered, and defenders who argued it was one of the few buildings on campus with genuine “artistic and architectural value.”13 The exchange captured the broader tensions about modern architecture’s place on campus—was it a functional marvel or a concrete eyesore?
A Concrete Legacy
The building became part of the George Duke Humphrey Science Center, honoring the former president who had championed the science initiative. The formal dedication didn’t happen until February 6, 1971, with President Humphrey himself present to see his vision finally realized.14
(From left to right) Clinton A. Hitchcock, architect; Bob Arnold, Director of UW Physical Plant; Glenn Mullens, structural consultant; and W. Eliot Hitchcock, architect, stand outside the Classroom Building circa 1971. Box 114, Hitchcock & Hitchcock records, Coll. No. 9921, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming. Image ah003194.
The building’s story didn’t end with its dedication, however. Like many aging buildings, it faced both literal and figurative storms. In 1996, a broken water main flooded the lower level, causing significant damage to the planetarium and requiring extensive cleanup.15 As enrollment declined in the 1990s, the university found creative uses for classroom space—by 1997, former classroom CR 301 had been converted into a Grab-N-Go convenience store, leading one student columnist to quip about the building becoming “Laramie’s new mall.”16
The building received a major technological upgrade through a renovation completed in 2007, bringing it into the digital age with Internet access, smart boards, and modern projection equipment while carefully preserving its distinctive murals and architectural character.17
Architect Keith Seebart gives the UW Board of Trustees a tour a tour of the stadium-style rooms in the renovated Classroom Building. The wires were for Internet access. Photo by Aaron LeClair, Laramie Boomerang, May 9, 2007.
More than fifty years later, the Classroom Building continues to serve thousands of students annually. The circular corridors still help with navigation (mostly), the murals still catch the eye, and the building still looks like it could launch into space if someone found the right controls. It stands as a monument to 1960s confidence in modern design and a reminder that sometimes listening to public opinion—like saving Prexy’s Pasture—leads to better outcomes for everyone.
Whether you call it the Classroom Building, the standing rib roast, or just “that round building with all the tiles,” it remains one of UW’s most recognizable landmarks. And unlike some architectural experiments of the era, it has aged reasonably well, proving that bold design choices can actually work out in the long run.
Explore More Campus History
Want to see how the Classroom Building fits into the broader story of UW’s transformation? The American Heritage Center offers two online exhibits that bring this architectural evolution to life. “University of Wyoming: A Brief History of Campus” chronicles the development of the campus landscape, while “Keeping History Alive: 136 Years of Progress” presents a striking then-and-now photographic comparison, featuring 2023 images of campus buildings alongside historical photos to show how dramatically the university has changed over the decades.
Sources
“Classroom—western, psychedelic…” The Branding Iron, University of Wyoming, October 11, 1968, 11. ↩︎
“Dr. Humphrey Outlines UW Future,” Laramie Daily Boomerang, January 26, 1962; Vern Shelton, “Dr. Fey Outlines His Program,” Laramie Daily Boomerang, December 12, 1964. ↩︎
Deborah Hardy, Wyoming University: The First 100 Years, 1886-1986 (Laramie: University of Wyoming, 1986), 175. ↩︎
Harold Sohn. “Progress is education.” The Summer Roundup, published by The Branding Iron, University of Wyoming, July 8, 1966, 1. ↩︎
“Partially completed buildings to see activity this semester,” Branding Iron, September 13, 1968, 4; “University Building Featured in Magazine, Boomerang, August 16, 1957, 3. ↩︎
“’Form follows function,’” Branding Iron, October 4, 1968, 12. ↩︎
“Center Construction to Start This Spring,” Branding Iron, October 29, 1965, 10. ↩︎
Steve Singleton. “’Art is the communication with the exterior,’” Branding Iron, May 17, 1968, 9; Greg Ray, Branding Iron, March 14, 1969, 1. ↩︎
“Classroom mosaic mural called an optical illusion,” Branding Iron, October 29, 9. ↩︎
Singleton, “’Art if the communication with the exterior,’” 9. ↩︎
For decades, the conventional wisdom has portrayed Western ranchers as caught in a paradox—an industry built on independence that criticized federal regulation while relying on government programs. It’s become the accepted narrative—and according to Dr. Tim Gresham, it misses the real story.
Dr. Tim Gresham, Professor of History at St. Mary’s College.
The St. Mary’s College history professor spent ten days at the American Heritage Center examining extensive meeting minutes and correspondence, funded by the Alan K. Simpson Fellowship. What he discovered helps to reshape our understanding of how the meat industry really worked with government from the 1930s through the 1950s.
His findings join scholarship by Karen Merrill, Leisl Carr Childers, and Michelle Berry in painting a more nuanced picture of the American West—one where ranchers weren’t simply for or against government, but engaged in constant negotiation about what their relationship should look like.
Dr. Gresham challenges what he calls the “hypocritical rancher” perspective that dates back to Jimmy Skaggs’ 2000 book Prime Cut: Livestock Raising and Meatpacking in the United States. This long-standing interpretation portrays ranchers as simultaneously resisting federal presence while accepting government subsidies. But his examination of the actual records reveals something far more interesting—a sophisticated partnership between the meat industry and government that operated largely out of public view.
Mining the Archives for Answers
Dr. Gresham’s research arsenal at the AHC was impressive. He pored over National Live Stock & Meat Board minutes—some biannual meetings generated hundreds of pages of detailed conversations between industry titans and government scientists that had previously gone unexplored. The National Cattlemen’s Association records revealed heated internal debates about the industry’s future. Papers from Wyoming politicians Joseph C. O’Mahoney and Lester C. Hunt showed how elected officials navigated between their ranching constituents and federal agencies.
A 1941 Meat Board poster contest encouraged high school students to promote “Meat and the Nation.” Such campaigns demonstrated the Board’s sophisticated public outreach efforts. Box 289, National Live Stock and Meat Board Records, Coll. No. 11744, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
But perhaps his most surprising discovery came from the Wyoming Hereford Ranch (WHR) records—a collection he hadn’t initially planned to examine. He came across references to dwarfism in other collections and knew that “the WHR was ground zero for the outbreak.” In the early 1950s, this devastating crisis threatened the entire Hereford breed. Government scientists discovered the method of transmission and “possibly saved the Hereford breed from ruin.”
A comparison chart showing the difference between standard cattle and those affected by dwarfism. The 1950s dwarfism crisis at Wyoming Hereford Ranch demonstrated the high stakes of industry-government cooperation when public scientists helped identify the genetic cause and saved the Hereford breed. Source: Bucking V Outfit, Donna Vickery, “Dwarfism ~ Chondrodysplasia in miniature cattle.”
“The Meat Board leaders used public sector scientists essentially as a research arm that would appear to the public as an impartial third party,” Dr. Gresham explains. Rather than conducting their own research, “its leaders chose to provide grants to top scientists throughout the country, and pressured universities to create meat departments, thus creating more centers for research.”
When Beef Became a Belief System
The archives revealed an unexpected ideological split within the meat industry itself. While the Meat Board embraced what sociologist Gyorgy Scrinis calls “the ideology of nutritionism”—essentially holding “that only the nutrients mattered, not the type of meat”—the National Cattlemen’s Association developed something Dr. Gresham terms “beef fundamentalism.” As he puts it, “they viewed beef as a unique food that is valuable for qualities beyond its nutritional composition.”
Winners of the Meat Board’s Third National Meat Story Contest in 1929. The Board offered university scholarships to shape the next generation’s understanding of meat’s nutritional value. Box 289, National Live Stock and Meat Board Records, Coll. No. 11744, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
This philosophical divide had real consequences. The groups clashed over funding priorities after World War II, with the NCA demanding separate beef promotions. Even as NCA leaders proclaimed that “free markets make free men” in a 1953 executive meeting, they simultaneously called for increased USDA beef purchases for school lunch programs.
Rather than simple hypocrisy, Dr. Gresham sees something more complex: industry leaders believed they were fixing problems created by earlier government interventions like wartime price controls. They weren’t abandoning free-market principles so much as trying to work within a system already shaped by decades of federal involvement.
During World War II, the Meat Board’s 1943 essay contest framed meat as a “Weapon of War,” offering war bonds as prizes. The contest reveals how the industry leveraged patriotic sentiment to promote consumption. Box 289, National Live Stock and Meat Board Records, Coll. No. 11744, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Beyond the Archives
Over the next two years, Dr. Gresham will present his findings at major history conferences and submit articles to leading journals. His ultimate goal is a book that reveals the hidden architecture of cooperation between industry and government that shaped not just the meat on American tables, but the political identity of the West itself.
The Alan K. Simpson Fellowship made this research possible by covering Dr. Gresham’s travel, lodging, and meals during his archival work. “Because the records at the AHC are central to my project,” he explained, “the Simpson fellowship is easily the most important grant I will receive.”
The Alan K. Simpson Fellowship in Western Political History is one of several research opportunities offered by the American Heritage Center. For more information about grants and fellowships, visit the AHC Grants and Fellowships page.
The fellowship honors retired U.S. Senator Alan K. Simpson of Wyoming, who passed away in March 2025. The AHC’s Alan K. Simpson Institute for Western Politics and Leadership continues his legacy of fostering understanding of Western political history and civic engagement.
Aviation in the 1920s was unpredictable. Pilots flew routes that few had successfully flown before, with untested technologies and in all weather conditions. These risks went hand in hand with being a pilot for the airmail service.
None embody this better than James H. Knight, who went by the name of Jack and whose exploits frequently graced newspapers across the West. The newspaper record remembers Knight as a pioneer, pushing the boundaries of aviation. Despite the dangers of flying Western airmail routes during the 1920s, Knight’s advancements to the service are a testament to his courage, skill, and, to some extent, luck.
Jack Knight kept a log book that detailed all of his flights for much of his airmail career service, and it relates the dangers of this pioneering profession. Housed at the American Heritage Center, the log book reveals at the beginning that Knight recorded three entries under the title “Record of Forced Landings, Smashes, Crashes, ETC,” all within the span of two years. Entries of “forced landing,” “motor trouble,” and even “crash” are repeated frequently throughout the book alongside remarks about the weather. There is a surprising number of these notes. Despite the many malfunctions and accidents faced, he continued to fly, advancing airmail and aviation to new heights. He was seemingly undeterred even after so many forced landings and outright crashes.
Breaking Speed Records
Airmail pilots flew for relatively long hours considering the limited distances they covered on each leg of the transcontinental air route. On December 13, 1920, Knight is reported to have gone about 385 and 8/10 miles an hour, traveling forty-five miles in seven minutes due to a gust of wind.1 This would be relatively slow for a modern airplane, but at the time it was considered a possible record-breaking speed. TheLaramie Boomerang stated that Knight “probably traveled faster than ever a human being moved before.”2 Spectators and news reporters found Knight’s speed flight to be an exciting moment to witness. Airplanes were on the forefront of technological developments.
The Night Flight That Made History
One of Knight’s most well-known achievements occurred during a test of a 24-hour transcontinental airmail flight with different pilots flying small routes in 1921. Jack flew at night from North Platte, Nebraska, to Chicago, Illinois. Originally scheduled to fly only to Omaha, he decided to continue on to the next leg when the pilot assigned to the Chicago route refused to fly during a storm.3
Despite having never flown the Omaha-Chicago segment and having already completed his assigned portion with a broken nose, he still successfully navigated two sections of the route in poor weather. TheOmaha Bee reported that Jack Knight was “the man who flew with the mails from Cheyenne to Chicago in a single night.”4 His successful completion of this challenging night flight, especially when another pilot had deemed it too dangerous, proved that airmail could be delivered safely after dark—a crucial advancement for the service.
When Knight returned to Cheyenne in a new plane, his down-to-earth personality was evident. Despite accomplishing one of aviation’s most heroic feats, his immediate concern was simple: “I’m famished,” he told the welcoming crowd. “Nothing since breakfast, and that a darned early one.”5
Jack Knight after completing his record-breaking transcontinental air mail flight on February 26, 1921, with a broken nose. Cheyenne State Leader, February 27, 1921.
Behind Every Great Pilot
A 1921 newspaper article about Jack’s wife Lois portrays her as being confident in her husband’s skill and supportive of his work in the U.S. Airmail Service. She is depicted in the newspaper article as being calm despite the risks that were inseparable from her husband’s career.6 Regardless of her likely concerns about those risks, her interview does not focus greatly on her worry. The only times she stated that she frequently worried was when Jack flew in poor weather or when he flew over the mountains.7 The article’s author is more focused on Jack, even while interviewing his wife for her opinions, reflecting Jack Knight’s status as a celebrity of sorts.
Jack Knight with his wife at their Cheyenne home, 1921. Wyoming State Tribune and Cheyenne State Leader, May 15, 1921
Innovations in Communication
Knight tested a “Hush-A-Phone,” which was designed to limit outside noise so that pilots could hear radio transmissions. Knight’s radio was equipped with “a hushaphone [sic] to shut out the sound of his motor.”8 In an open-air cockpit, the Hush-A-Phone allowed clear two-way communication despite the constant roar of both engine and wind. Despite the historic significance of this test, Jack only wrote the words “radio,” “radio test,” and “night radio” in his log book on the days of the test. No further information is provided to suggest his experiences or opinions. Perhaps it was truly a routine test for him, unlike the article which raised public anticipation for the coming test.
Knight testing early air-to-ground radio. Photo from San Diego Air and Space Museum Archive.
Flying Into History
Knight’s importance to the advancement of airmail and aviation was so significant that when he retired in 1937, the Wyoming State Tribune featured an article about his work. The newspaper claimed that “veteran” had become synonymous with Jack’s name, describing him as one of seven volunteers who flew mail through the night to prove it was possible, and who “could and had flown everything from a crate to a luxury liner.”9 Though clearly exaggerated, the fact that Knight’s retirement warranted news coverage more than a decade after his most prominent achievement reveals his lasting recognition in aviation history and his importance to the development of airmail service.
Jack Knight’s work in the airmail service, despite its dangers, allowed for advancements in the aviation industry. He was involved in many of the advancements of the 1920s which made airmail, and aviation as a whole, safer and less uncertain. In his own log book, however, his accomplishments are noted alongside all other flights without more than a few words of commentary. Jack was only one of many airmail pilots who pushed the limits of aviation, becoming a true pioneer in the process.
We share his story to commemorate the beginnings of this vital service, which saw its first official experiment under the US Post Office Department on September 23, 1911.
Post contributed by Lilly Graham, student in the Spring 2025 course “20th Century American West” (HIST 4540) taught by Toppan Rare Book Curator Dr. Mary Beth Brown.
“Pilot Flies Plane at Rate of 385 Miles an Hour, is Claim,” TheLaramie Boomerang, December 13, 1920, 7. ↩︎
Welcome back to our ongoing series “Designing the University of Wyoming,” which explores the stories behind the campus’s architecture, landmarks, and artistic features that have shaped the university’s identity over the decades.
Standing proudly on the lawn south of the Arts and Sciences Building, the bronze figure of Benjamin Franklin has been watching over UW students for more than six decades. But this isn’t just any campus statue—it’s a piece of Wyoming history with an intriguing backstory, complete with artistic vision, generous benefactors, and even a bit of journalistic satire.
A Revolutionary Idea Takes Shape
The story begins in 1955, when the approaching 250th anniversary of Franklin’s birth sparked an ambitious idea. UW professor and sculptor Robert Russin (1914-2007) joined forces with Wyoming rancher and oilman Warren Richardson to create something special for the university. Richardson, along with his siblings Clarence and Valeria, saw the University as the perfect home for a commemorative statue of one of America’s most versatile founding fathers.
In a letter to UW President George Duke Humphrey on February 18, 1956, Richardson described their vision:
It is therefore particularly appropriate that a commemorative statue of this foremost American be placed on the grounds of our great state university as a guiding inspiration to the youth of Wyoming.
From The Branding Iron, March 23, 1956.
The trustees were convinced. At their March 9 meeting, they approved the proposal and accepted a check from the Richardson family for $17,500—equivalent to over $200,000 in today’s dollars—a substantial sum that would bring Russin’s artistic vision to life.1
From Clay to Bronze
Russin had already created a model, and the process of completing the seven-foot statue began in earnest. The bronze figure would rest on a large, polished granite base, positioned prominently where students, faculty, and visitors could encounter Franklin’s presence daily.
After considering several locations around campus, the trustees settled on the lawn south of the Arts and Sciences Building—a fitting spot for a polymath who embodied the spirit of learning and discovery. Long-time campus visitors might remember this area as the site of the beloved Peanut Pond, where students once gathered for fly-casting contests and tug-of-wars before the small cement-lined pond was filled in during 1962.
Dedication Day and Words of Wisdom
The statue was installed on April 1, 1957, and formally dedicated on May 24. At the dedication ceremony, sculptor Russin delivered remarks that captured both his artistic philosophy and Franklin’s enduring relevance to university life:
My remarks will be brief, and since the statue must speak for itself, in effect, I have already said my say. It is especially appropriate that a monument to Franklin be placed on a campus of learning…He was a student, in the truest sense, for all of his life. In his own words, ‘The doors of wisdom are never shut,’ and this applies truly to this campus.2
From The Branding Iron, April 5, 1957.
A Western First
What makes UW’s Franklin statue particularly special is its distinction as the first statue of Benjamin Franklin erected west of the Mississippi River. For the Richardson family and the university, this represented an opportunity to bring a piece of foundational American history to the frontier state.3
A Journalistic Jab with a Point
Not long after the statue’s installation, the campus newspaper The Branding Iron published a satirical piece that would become part of the statue’s lore. In a clever article titled “Inscription on Franklin Statue Hacks Stranger,” student journalists created a fictional encounter between a student and a mysterious figure named “Silence Dogood”—a reference to one of Franklin’s own pseudonyms.
The fictional Dogood character complained that the statue’s inscription listed Franklin as “scientist, man of letters, economist, politician” but failed to mention what he considered Franklin’s most important identity: “Printer and journalist!” The character argued passionately that Franklin’s career in printing and journalism was the foundation for all his other achievements.4
This playful critique highlighted an important aspect of Franklin’s legacy while demonstrating the kind of critical thinking and spirited debate that Franklin himself would have appreciated.
Franklin contemplates his key in this 1968 photo—perhaps deciding whether to unlock scientific secrets or just tell someone to go fly a kite. Photo from The Branding Iron, July 26, 1968.
Weathering Modern Controversies
The statue’s peaceful existence was briefly disrupted in September 2017, when a student group staged a mock protest to make a point about the national conversation surrounding historical monuments. The group organized a fake petition drive asking students to sign a petition to remove the Franklin statue. Students who signed were then given a flyer explaining that the group wasn’t actually trying to remove the statue, but rather protesting what they saw as the troubling trend of tearing down historical monuments across the country.5
The incident sparked conversations about historical memory, the role of monuments on campus, and how universities should navigate politically charged discussions about public art and commemoration.
Franklin has not only weathered controversy, he’s weathered… well, weather. Here he is in a University of Wyoming Foundation Facebook post from January 2025.
A Continuing Presence
More than sixty years after its installation, Franklin’s bronze form continues to occupy its prominent spot on campus. The statue has become part of the daily rhythm of university life, a familiar landmark that has appeared in countless graduation photos and served as an informal meeting spot for generations of students. Whether viewed as an inspiration, a conversation starter, or simply as a piece of campus history, Franklin remains a constant presence in the ever-changing landscape of the University of Wyoming.
Explore More UW History
Want to see how dramatically the University of Wyoming has transformed over time? The American Heritage Center offers two online exhibits that bring campus history to life. “University of Wyoming: A Brief History of Campus” takes you on a visual journey through the university’s evolution, while “Keeping History Alive: 136 Years of Progress” offers a then-and-now comparison, pairing 2023 photographs of campus buildings and features with historical images to reveal how much the landscape has changed. These exhibits provide a great backdrop for understanding how landmarks like the Franklin statue fit into the university’s ongoing story of growth and transformation.
This is Part 2 of our series on Bertha Klausner, Missed Part 1? Read it here to learn how she built her literary agency from the ground up.
Building a Literary Empire
After closing her Hollywood office in 1960 and returning to work full-time from New York, Klausner entered the most prolific phase of her career. Through it all, she thrived, building lasting relationships and forging new paths for her clients in both literature and entertainment. Her work with literary giants like Upton Sinclair, whose books she sold for nearly two decades, and Marcel Marceau, whom she helped introduce to American audiences, solidified her position as a key figure in the literary world.1
Klausner working in her Park Avenue office. Image courtesy of Rebecca Spence.
Her Hollywood connections were also sound and enduring. In a February 2025 interview, Klausner’s nephew, Dennis Torres, talked about a meeting he had with Stanley Kramer that was initiated by his aunt. Hoping to pitch his then recent novel to the producer/director as a film idea, Torres instead sat for an hour listening to Kramer extoll his aunt’s virtues.2 She was well-liked and respected in all circles. Her commitment to her clients was single-minded as she wove together an international network of publishers, and radio, film, television, and stage directors and producers.
Mime Marcel Marceau performing with a giant hoop in his one-man show. “Marcel Marceau On Broadway,” Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library. New York Public Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 7, 2025.
For decades she would entertain and conduct business out of her home. A great-granddaughter, Rebecca Spence, recalls that her earliest memory when visiting her Nana at her Park Avenue apartment in New York was meeting Marcel Marceau:
When I was little Marcel Marceau would be in her apartment and he would do… private mime performances for me and my brother… we were little children, very young—three or four. That is my earliest memory—Marcel Marceau being in my Nana’s apartment and doing mime for me. Pretty amazing.3
She would oftentimes prepare meals for her clients and prospective business partners. Upton Sinclair mentioned one such event in his 1962 autobiography wherein he stated, “One of the most unusual occasions was a luncheon given by my faithful agent, Bertha Klausner, who invited only those people who are working, in one way or another, with my various books—publishing or reissuing or dramatizing them for stage or screen. And, there was a roomful of them!”4
Klausner’s family members would frequently be at the luncheons she hosted. Nephew Dennis Torres recounts having met notables such as Adam Clayton Powell and Claire Booth Luce at these events, both of whom were her clients. He also remembers his aunt sending him on errands. During these trips, he once met Ralph Bellamy, a renowned stage, film, and television star, and Tony Award-winning producer David Merrick.5 Torres remembers that Merrick “would always get great seats for her [Klausner] whenever she wanted to go to any play. In my mind she was like Gertrude Stein was to the ex-pats in Paris—I considered Bertha the Gertrude Stein of New York.”6
Great-granddaughter Rebecca Spence also recounts “going to her house and there is action, there are people there, important people, and artists and culture makers and we’re getting free tickets from Tommy Tune to go see…The Phantom of the Opera in the VIP section in the first row…I remember as a child, that [when] we visited…my Nana in New York she would give us free VIP tickets to…major plays and…Broadway shows.”7
Her New York apartment became the center of both her personal and professional worlds, where there seemed to be no boundaries between her personal and professional life. Jean Cappel (who worked from Klausner’s home), sent her a postcard in 1959 (special delivery, no less) addressing an inquiry that Klausner had made of her stating, “Dear Bertha, Bottom door—a box second from windows in your bedroom are bundles of scripts from article file. Ralph ______ should have a bundle & Cocos [sic] outline should be there (otherwise in book files under “H” or “W”).”8 Klausner’s granddaughter Maya worked for the agency for ten years while in high school and while attending college at Vassar. She related working from her grandmother’s apartment on Lexington Avenue from 1967 to 1975:
The one on Lexington Avenue was hilarious because it was probably at some point a residential hotel. There was no kitchen. It was a two-bedroom and one bath. She turned a closet into a kitchen. She used a hot plate and had a little refrigerator like a kid would use in a dorm room and produced amazing meals out of this closet. And, she entertained writers and editors and people in the business there. Usually lunch. And, the same when she moved to the big apartment [on Park Avenue].9
Those luncheons oftentimes bore fruit for Klausner. In 1972 she received correspondence from Lilly Poritz Miller, a senior trade editor with publishers McClelland & Stewart Ltd in Toronto. Miller had referred Canadian author and screenwriter, Seymour Blicker, to Klausner whose book, Schmucks, she represented in the United States and Israel. In Miller’s letters to Klausner dated June 27, 1972, she wrote, “Many times I have thought of those warm and festive luncheons with you and I miss seeing you.”10 Klausner continued to work and entertain from her home into her eighties.
International Expansion
Klausner cast a wide net across borders and oceans. Her letterhead in 1954 indicated that her agency reached clients across the globe including Australia, India, Indonesia, Philippines, and South Africa.11 Her influence also extended into the Middle East, notably to Israel, where she established important connections with literary and film agencies.
In the early 1970s, Klausner reached out to Israeli businesses and explored opportunities for collaboration in film production. Her correspondence with Israeli agencies highlighted her interest in expanding the reach of American literature and film into international markets, particularly in Israel, where she sought to negotiate film rights and represent Israeli filmmakers in the U.S. and Canada.12
She began by sending a barrage of letters (over two dozen) to organizations such as Israfilm Ltd.13 And the bait worked! In a 1973 mailing, she secured a meeting with Israfilm and pitched several of her authors to them. In February 1974, Klausner traveled to Israel to meet with representatives from Israfilm and other agencies to discuss potential co-productions and the possibility of bringing Israeli literature and stories to a broader audience. Her efforts not only expanded her agency’s influence but also contributed to fostering cultural exchanges between the U.S. and Israel, making her a key figure in promoting Israeli content in the American market.14
She negotiated film and television rights for her clients, including Seymour Blicker and American author and longtime client Robert Payne. She carefully strategized and once she had established initial contact with an interested party, she would advocate on behalf of her clients with other reputable firms.
This letter from Klauser to Israfilm dated July 14, 1973, was one of dozens of form letters she sent to potential clients/business associates in Israel. Box 50, Folder 11, Bertha Klausner papers, Coll. No. 9462, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
An example of this can be found in her cordial but assertive correspondence with a representative from an Israeli publisher. While she had not secure a definitive agreement with Israfilm to produce Robert Payne’s unpublished manuscript, Love Stories from the Bible, as a television series, she leveraged this initial contact to attract interest from the Bar David Literary Agency.15
The letter to Varda Mor of Bar David contains both a personal note and an admonishment that exemplifies Klausner’s direct literary style: “I feel that your interest in Robert Payne should be stronger than it is.”16
Letter from Klausner to Varda Mor, 1979. Note the personal and cordial tone of the letter. This is commonly found in Klausner’s correspondence. She was a master at making people feel comfortable and heard while she concurrently conducted shrewd business deals. Box 50, Folder 11, Klausner papers.
Writing letters was an art for Klausner. Most often, they were the first introduction of herself, her agency, and clients to a potential publisher or producer. She often established a personal connection with prospective colleagues while maintaining a professional manner and strongly advocating on behalf of her clients. Screen writer and author, Pete Chaney, referred to his relationship with Klausner as one wherein he “could never refuse Bertha anything. My feelings for her range from admiration to deep affection, everything you can feel about a person you’ve known for 20 years but never met except by phone and letter.”17 In a 1980 article, Dick Boswell referred to her as a “motherly dynamo.”18
A Legacy of Relationships
The hallmark of Klausner’s career was her unwavering commitment to her clients and her ability to inspire and support them beyond mere business transactions. Her Park Avenue apartment became a hub for literary creativity, where writers, editors, and producers regularly gathered for lunches that often led to significant publishing and commercial successes. Klausner’s reputation for integrity, warmth, and her relentless drive earned her Upton Sinclair’s nickname “The Big Bertha of Literary Agents” a testament to her formidable presence in the industry.19 As Klausner continued to expand her influence, she remained dedicated to nurturing the next generation of writers and expanding the reach of her agency. Even in her later years, she showed no signs of slowing down, constantly seeking new opportunities and challenges, including those that took her abroad.
A Lasting Impact
According to journalist Morna Murphy, Klausner’s philosophy was “Never give up!”20 The more than 700 boxes in her papers housed at the American Heritage Center are a testament to this principle. Klausner’s work ethic and devotion to her clients is demonstrated time and again throughout. Her style was relentless and, as Murphy wrote about Klausner, at the age of 80 she remained “independent and unsinkable, working seven days a week extending encouragement (and often home cooking) to a host of writers.”21 Her legacy is one of innovation, resilience, and a profound impact on the literary and entertainment industries, making her a central figure in the history of American publishing and a pioneer in fostering international cultural exchanges.22
Post contributed by AHC Archives Aide Patty Kessler.
Howell Hurst to Bertha Klausner, May 7, 1987 (biography):4-6, Box 1, Folder 1, Bertha Klausner papers, Coll. No. 9462, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming. ↩︎
Dennis Torres, interview by Patty Kessler, February 13, 2025, interview transcript, American Heritage Center. ↩︎
Rebecca Spence, interview by Patty Kessler, February 26, 2025, interview transcript, American Heritage Center. ↩︎
Upton Sinclair, The Autobiography of Upton Sinclair,1878-1968 (New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962): 325. ↩︎
This is Part 1 of a two-part series exploring the remarkable life of Bertha Klausner, one of America’s most influential literary agents. Read Part 2 here.
Bertha Klausner was among one of the most influential literary agents in the United States and internationally throughout the twentieth century.
Born in Brooklyn in 1901 to Austro-Hungarian immigrant parents, she was known for her tireless work ethic, innovative strategies, and deep commitment to her clients during the course of a career that spanned over six decades. Klausner played a pivotal role in the literary, art, and entertainment markets and solidified her role as a trailblazer for women nationally and internationally.1
Bertha Klausner, n.d. Biography File, Bertha Klausner Papers, Coll. No. 9562, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming
Early Years and Family Influence
As a child, and throughout most of her adult life, her father Jacob Adler—a prominent writer who was often referred to as the “Mark Twain of Jewish writers”—introduced Klausner into the world of literature and politics.”2 Her rich educational upbringing was set against a background of economic hardship; consequently she was no stranger to adversity.3
This fact, and the tenacity of her own father to realize his dream of being an influential author, served to shape her leadership and entrepreneurial spirit. These qualities led her to weave together an intricate sphere of influence. These inclinations would serve her well over the course of a career that was marked by resilience and an unyielding dedication to literature, the arts, and above all else her family and clients.
Innovation through the Women’s Exchange
After the 1929 Wall Street crash cost her structural engineer husband his financial backing, Klausner took the family’s last $2,000 and, with two young children in tow, invested it in researching and establishing a Woman’s Exchange in Asbury, New Jersey.4 At the turn of the century Woman’s Exchanges boasted approximately one hundred organizations and, while their numbers have diminished significantly, they continue to be one of the oldest operating charitable organizations in the United States.5 The Federation of Woman’s Exchanges’ website states that while women “received valuable training in retail organization and management, something they could not hope to attain in the male-dominated retail market in the late 1800s and early 1900s . . . its numbers began to die out shortly after women received the right to vote [in 1920] and began to join the work force.”6
Klausner patterned the Asbury Park Exchange after the historic agencies that were first established in the 1830s. They existed in part to address the lack of legal and economic protections for widows in accordance with the doctrine of coverture—the status of married women during the time that placed them lawfully under the control of their husbands, and erased any legal rights they may have had to own their own property, children, or to advocate on their own behalf.
This document predates Klausner’s exchange but shows how carefully exchanges were organized and managed throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. The Federation of Woman’s Exchanges still provides guidance for contemporary exchanges across the United States. “Rules of the Richmond Woman’s Work Exchange [broadside],” Social Welfare History Image Portal, https://images.socialwelfare.library.vcu.edu/items/show/545. Accessed April 15, 2025.
While the doctrine of coverture was gradually mitigated at the end of the 19th century and early in the 20th, the need for women to earn an income to support themselves and their families was not. These exchanges were run by women and provided an opportunity for women to submit handiwork which, in turn, would be sold at the exchange. It provided needed income for women and their families as well as charitable organizations.7 In light of this, her efforts did not go unrewarded. Klausner’s biographer, Howell Hurst, noted in his unpublished manuscript that, “[The Exchange] was an instant success. With over 300 carefully-selected women’s handcrafts for sale, Bertha garnered offers from the local mayor and the major department store for financial assistance.”8
Klausner’s initiative proved crucial after bank failures resulted in the loss of her husband’s engineering work, at which time she assumed the role as the primary provider for their family. She engineered an intricate network of housing for her family, rent free, in agreement with banks to take care of mansions left empty after the stock market crash, and afforded a place to live, not just for herself, her husband, and their children, but for a diversity of individuals. These members of her “extended” family provided child care, helped to maintain the household, and prepared meals for them. One of the chefs who resided with the family also cooked at a tea room located at Klausner’s Women’s Exchange.9
Community Leadership
Klausner was also involved in her faith and local communities. In November 1930, she attended a joint session of the Young Men’s and Young Women’s Hebrew Associations (Y.M.H.A. and Y.W.H.A., respectively). In an article published in The Long Branch Daily Record on November 14, 1930, it was noted that “Mrs. Edward S. Klausner, president of the Y.W.H.A. of Asbury Park” was on the itinerary and presented at the same program alongside her father.10
The first Y.W.H.A. was founded in New York in 1902 and provided “social recreational activities for Jewish working girls and, in some instances, temporary housing, all of which [afforded] ‘hundreds of hard-working girls with a chance of bettering their condition and of helping them, in many cases, from a condition of want and necessity to a place in the world where they can become independent and self-supporting.’”11 Both Klausner and her husband, Edward, were advocates of the communities they lived in and provided leadership and assistance wherever they were needed.
Klausner 1935. From the Ruth Adler Torres family album. Image courtesy of Dennis Torres.
Breaking into Publishing
As though this was “not enough” (which in the storied career of Bertha Klausner is really a phrase that held little or no meaning to her), Klausner was also instrumental in establishing a newspaper, The Monmouth Independent, which played a pivotal role in exposing and dismantling a corrupt local government in Monmouth County, New Jersey, through its investigative journalism and detailed reporting on bribery, embezzlement, and other illegal activities by local officials. Her activities in the publishing world included developing the Independent Publishers Syndicate, one of the first national newspaper syndicates, which served over 500 papers and became a model for current features such as Parade and This Week.12 These early ventures established her as a formidable businesswoman and paved the way for her later success as a literary agent.
Launching a Literary Career
In 1945, after a career of representing artists and illustrators, the mother of now two adolescents established the Bertha Klausner Literary Agency (which later became the Bertha Klausner International Literary Agency).13 This led to the beginning of a vast and lauded career.
Prior to launching her literary agency, Klausner represented artists (and later authors) including those who were influenced by the Harlem Renaissance (1918-1937).14 This is a facsimile of her business card, pre-1945. Box 13, folder 6, Klausner papers
Building on her success, “in 1945, Klausner transitioned to representing primarily writers, quickly gaining a reputation for her ability to sell diverse literary works, from radio scripts to full-length dramas, to major networks and publishers.”15 Through it all, Klausner challenged the status quo in the marketplace. She undertook this career within the framework of a male-dominated industry. In the early part of the twentieth century only 5% of “most [married] women in the United States [worked] outside of the home, and only 20% of all women were gainfully employed.”16
When Klausner began to focus her attention on the literary side of her agency, women had made some gains. Beginning in the 1940s “approximately 12% of married women were in the labor force and the overall total of women working had risen to 50%.”17 Klausner was well-positioned to capitalize on this growing trend.
The challenges for women in the workplace were further aggravated following World War II when the large number of women who had entered the workforce during the war faced pressure to leave and make room for returning servicemen. “Seventy-five percent of women who were employed during the conflict in the 1940s indicated that they wanted to stay in the workforce; however, despite this, there were mass layoffs of women at the end of the war.”18 Even so, 35% of women worked outside of the home and, by the end of the decade, approximately one-half of those were married. “This was a decrease in the number of women who were in the workforce prior to World War II, nevertheless, an increase in the number of married women participating.”19 Klausner maintained her employment status throughout this fluctuation of women’s participation in the job market. What’s more, she opened an office in Hollywood working on both American coasts until 1960.
Hollywood
Ten years after the establishment of her first agency in 1938, Klausner turned her sights to Hollywood and began maintaining an office and regular presence on the West Coast. From the late 1940s until 1960, Klausner fostered valuable relationships in Hollywood. In 1955, she wrote to her secretary, Jean Cappel, “I am convinced that I should be here every other month. I can sell fast—as I make friends & they are anxious to cooperate.”20
Klausner would often host parties to showcase her clientele. This image depicts author, inventor, and patron of the arts Caresse Crosby (shown left) with renowned archeologist Sam Lothrop with wife Eleanor at a Klausner cocktail party in 1953. Klausner took the photo. Caresse Crosby Photograph Collection, Special Collections Research Center, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University Carbondale
She entertained personalities from her Hollywood base. One such event in 1957 was reported on in the Los Angeles Citizen News: “Authors Robert Payne and Caresse Crosby were feted at a dinner party recently at the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel. Bertha Klausner was hostess to guests, who includes Messrs. and Mmes. David O. Woodbury, Joseph Lederman, Jack Guss, . . . Art Cohn, . . . Vernon Duke, Ivy Crane Wilson, Whitney Stine, Leona Taub . . . [and] Lili Valenty.21 She also worked with top names in the film industry, which included individuals such as Stanley Kramer, who directed and produced such films as Inherit the Wind, Judgment at Nuremberg, Ship of Fools and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.
She likewise represented film notables such as Basil Rathbone, who was known for his Shakespearean roles, Sherlock Holmes films (1939-1946), and the film The Mark of Zorro. Among her many others clients were actors who worked across film, radio, and the stage. Klausner was Rathbone’s agent from the 1950s until his death in 1967; during that time, she encouraged him as he wrote his memoir which was published in 1962.22
Handwritten letters to Klausner from Rathbone chronicled the famed actor’s writing process and underscored the intimate relationship that she enjoyed with her clients. In one letter to Klausner, Rathbone wrote, “I may be going mad I don’t know! But I can’t stop writing way into every night.”23 In a later letter he pondered, “I am not a writer & this book cannot be treated as a literary project. Nor can anyone else assume to understand anyone else’s thoughts & feelings in this matter. Anxious as I am to go on with this book it must be a complete expression of myself or it will be no good.”24
Not all of her relationships with her Hollywood clients were as cordial, however. Klausner represented Joseph “Joe” E. Brown. A versatile entertainer, Brown performed in vaudeville, on the stage, and in film, starring in dozens of plays and movies. Two of his best known pictures were Show Boat, based on Edna Ferber’s 1926 novel by the same name, and Some Like It Hot, which starred Marilyn Monroe along with Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon. Klausner had solicited Brown to write his memoirs, which he agreed to.
She represented him through the publication of his autobiography, Laughter is a Wonderful Thing (1956), as told to Ralph Hancock. Temperaments certainly flared in her relationship with Brown. While Klausner had intimate and amiable relationships with most of her clients, her relationship with Brown was rocky at times. Hancock, who worked directly with Brown, had written to Klausner on January 20, 1955, concerning Brown’s dissatisfaction with her. In his letter, he reported that Brown was “fuming” because he believed that Klausner was “peddling” his idea for the autobiography. Hancock wrote, “He said he didn’t want you to peddle the idea [memoir] door to door and cheapen it that way. He was also peeved that you called him collect last week. And on top of all that he has a general dislike for agents as a whole.” Hancock also suggested that “he [Brown] is going to be very difficult to handle.” He went on to write, “I do not want you to promise him or me anything you can’t deliver, nor make any more statements about what you have lined up until you have it in writing. Neither he nor I can be fooled by such kidding. We’ve both been in business too long for that. And I think it hurts your own reputation too.”25
Klausner replied on January 24, 1955: “Your letter of January 20th certainly threw me for a loop. I thought that you knew me well enough to believe that anything I told you was on the level. I have built my reputation as an agent on my honesty and the complete sincerity I feel is due my clients… I seldom have any friction with anyone, as I have conducted my business on a very friendly basis and have made associations with my clients which have become lifelong friendships. Most people who work with me recognize that I have qualities which are not the usual in a relationship between agent and author. I like to keep my arrangements with clients a close and warm family tie. I thought you knew this, and that was why I am at a loss to understand how you could write a letter to me as you did.”26
Klausner was occasionally brought to task by clients, publishers, and others; however, she did not back down. She advocated for herself with the same vigor she brought to representing her clients. She went on to see Brown’s project through to completion.
The expense of maintaining an office on both coasts began to take its toll on the Bertha Klaunser International Literary Agency. A 1956 letter from Cappel, her secretary, underscored the inadequate financial condition of the agency: “I am sorry if I disturbed you with my plea for checks—I know the situation but didn’t quite know what to do with all the calls & letters I got from the clients asking for their monies. Hope things will go more smoothly next month.”27 By October, Jean was beseeching Klausner to send money to manage the day-to-day operations of the agency; she was paying for postage and office supplies out of her own pocket.28 In November, in reference to a debt owed by the agency, the beleaguered secretary mentioned that it was “a bit embarrassing for me to go in the story [sic] as he has asked for it now several times.”29
In the midst of this, always the optimist, Klausner later replied, “Today a miracle happened to me. Something so rare I still can’t believe it—but it will change my course for at least the coming year and during this year. I will have an opportunity to carry out plans which were always dreams. We have an angel. I’ll tell you more later… I have acquired quite a bit of new property & clients… I must sell all I can in New York on my return & collect payments to straighten out accounts.”30 There is nothing more to indicate what the “miracle” may have been; regardless, Klausner maintained her office in Hollywood until 1960 at which time she closed it down and returned to working full time from New York.
Coming up in Part 2: How Klausner built an international literary empire and became known as “The Big Bertha of Literary Agents.”
Post contributed AHC Archives Aide Patty Kessler.
Howell Hurst to Bertha Klausner, May 7, 1987 (outline of edited material and biography attached, 13), box 1, folder 1, Bertha Klausner papers, Coll. No. 9562, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming. ↩︎
Hurst to Klausner, May 7, 1987, notes from recorded interviews, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Klausner to Jean Cappel, Tuesday, 5 P.M., 1955, box 65, folder 11, Coll. 9562, Klausner papers. This is the first written suggestion that she was considering the establishment of her agency internationally. ↩︎
Rebecca Spence, interview by Patty Kessler, February 26, 2025, interview transcript, American Heritage Center. Later in the century, Klausner represented authors who were influential in the Black Arts Movement including Dorothy West. Dorothy West was an author during the Harlem Renaissance and a friend and one-time roommate of Zora Neil Hurston. ↩︎
Hurst to Klausner, May 7, 1987, 2-4, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Klausner to Jean Cappel, Friday, 8 P.M., October or November 1955, box 65, folder 11, Klausner papers. ↩︎
“March Party Whirl Roars In With Weekend Fetes,” Los Angeles Citizen News 52, no. 287 (1957): 10. The Jack Guss papers (Coll. No. 10899) are held at the American Heritage Center. ↩︎
After Rathbone’s death she continued to field questions and work on behalf of The Actors’ Fund (now known as The Entertainment Community Fund) to which he had bequeathed his papers and memoirs. She also continued to represent his wife, Ouida (Bergére), who was an actress, screenwriter, and playwright. ↩︎
Basil Rathbone to Klausner, April 30, 1961, box 99, folder 2, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Rathbone to Klausner, January 30, 1961, box 99, folder 2, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Ralph Hancock to Klausner, January 20, 1955, box 14, folder 16, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Klausner to Hancock, January 24, 1955, box 14, folder 16, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Cappel to Klausner, July 30, 1955, box 13, folder 5, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Cappel to Klausner, October 26, 1955, box 65, folder 11, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Cappel to Klausner, November 1, 1955, box 65, folder 11, Klausner papers. ↩︎
Klausner to Cappel, November 15, 1955, box 65, folder 11, Klausner papers. ↩︎
