Did you know the University of Wyoming College of Engineering and Applied Science has a Hall of Fame? Among its distinguished members is Wayman Chung Wing (1923-2020), whose journey from facing discrimination to international acclaim exemplifies resilience, innovation, and barrier-breaking achievement.
Growing up in Evanston as a first-generation Chinese American, Wing enrolled at the University of Wyoming in 1941 to pursue engineering. But his academic journey soon revealed the barriers of his era. In 1942, despite his academic excellence, Wing was denied entry into an honorary engineering fraternity because of a “Caucasians Only” clause in their constitution.
This setback coincided with global turmoil. After news of Pearl Harbor reached the U.S., Wing’s education took a detour when he joined the Army Air Corps. “I joined the Army Air Corps and waited to be called up,” he recounted in his 2006 memoir housed at the American Heritage Center.
Excerpt from Wing’s memoir that details his feelings and reasoning for joining the Army Air Corps during WWII. Box 1, Wayman C. Wing Papers, Coll. No. 11463, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Finding Cultural Connection Through Military Service
By 1943, Wing’s aptitude for science earned him selection for specialized training. “I was an engineering student with a background in science courses. I was one of a group of 175 sent by the Army Air Corp to an accelerated meteorology course at New York University,” Wing wrote.
This deployment proved unexpectedly meaningful in ways beyond military service. Growing up in Wyoming, Wing had limited exposure to Chinese American communities. In New York, this changed dramatically: “I enjoyed the nine months in New York because I met more Chinese friends and experienced Chinese culture more than ever before in Wyoming.”
With characteristic humor, Wing noted he passed the demanding meteorology program despite “the large amount of beer [he] consumed.” After training, he served at a British base on Terceira Island in the Azores during WWII, where his weather forecasting supported critical Allied operations.
Lagens Field in the Azores in December 1944 as Wayman Wing would have known it. Photo from Warfare History Network.
Breaking Through Barriers
Following the war, Wing returned to Wyoming, completing his Civil Engineering degree in 1947. The sting of the “Caucasians Only” clause remained, but Wing wasn’t alone in recognizing this injustice. Several faculty members joined his fight against the discriminatory policy. Their combined efforts paid off—in 1949, seven years after his initial rejection, Wing was finally inducted into the Omega Chapter of Sigma Tau (now known as Tau Beta Pi).
Wing’s academic excellence earned him acceptance to Stanford University for his master’s degree. There, he found “the engineering studies much easier than at UW”—a testament to the solid foundation provided by his Wyoming education. At Stanford, Wing deliberately expanded his knowledge, taking additional courses in law and business alongside his engineering curriculum.
From Student to Revolutionary Engineer
After earning his master’s in 1948, Wing worked in the industry for about a decade before making a bold decision that would define his career: founding Wayman C. Wing Consulting Engineers in 1960.
His timing intersected perfectly with growing international demand for safer building designs. Wing pioneered revolutionary approaches to earthquake-resistant structures at a time when conventional wisdom often fell short. His innovations earned the trust of prestigious clients like the Hilton and Sheraton hotel chains.
Wing’s earthquake-absorbent designs shaped skylines worldwide. The Meridien Hotel in Egypt, the Great Wall Hotel in China (particularly meaningful given his heritage), the Hartford National Bank, the Indonesian Pavilion at the New York World’s Fair, and the Washington Hilton Hotel all incorporated his innovative approaches to structural safety.
Recognition and Hall of Fame Induction
The University of Wyoming recognized Wing’s achievements through the H.T. Person Endowment Committee and named a Civil Engineering classroom in his honor. His military service received recognition with a nomination for a Congressional Medal of Honor.
In 1999, nearly four decades after launching his firm and over half a century after facing discrimination as a student, Wing was inducted into the University of Wyoming College of Engineering and Applied Science Hall of Fame. The institution that had once been the site of exclusion now celebrated him as one of its most distinguished graduates.
Wing’s invitation to the honor society in 1949. Box 3, Wayman C. Wing Papers, Coll. No. 11463, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
A Legacy of Opening Doors
Wing understood how education had transformed his own possibilities. His commitment to helping future generations was expressed in his characteristic humility: “If I can contribute in some small way to enhance the College’s reputation and possibly motivate subsequent generations of student engineers, I certainly am deeply honored to give it a good old ‘Rag Time Cowboy Try.’”
Wing and his five siblings all graduated from college as first-generation Chinese Americans—a remarkable achievement for that era. His success opened doors for others, creating opportunities far beyond what he could have imagined when facing that “Caucasians Only” clause as a young student.
For those interested in exploring this Hall of Fame engineer’s remarkable journey in greater depth, the Wayman C. Wing papers at the American Heritage Center provides insights into a life defined by breaking barriers and building bridges—both literally and figuratively.
Information for this post provided by University of Wyoming English Department graduate students Katelyn Hayward, Cheyenne Hume, and Makayla Kocher for Dr. Nancy Small’s Spring 2025 course “Qualitative Analysis: Inquiry for Public Humanities Engagement.”
In February 1940, as war engulfed Europe, President Franklin D. Roosevelt sent an unlikely diplomat to Ireland – his wife’s 70-year-old uncle who had never held a diplomatic position. David Gray’s mission would become one of the most challenging diplomatic assignments of World War II.
Gray arrived in Ireland (or Eire, as it was then called) with a diverse background. Prior to this appointment, he had enjoyed a successful career as a journalist, newspaper editor, practicing attorney, and novelist. Now largely retired, he brought no formal diplomatic training to his role as Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, but he did possess a fondness for the country after multiple visits since 1933.
During his visits to Ireland, Gray particularly enjoyed the hunting and fishing opportunities available in the countryside. While he married into the Roosevelt family through his wife Maude Livingston Hall, the aunt of First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, Gray was straightforward in his papers that this connection was instrumental to his appointment.
David and Maude Gray. Box 21, David Gray papers, Coll. No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In 1940, the relationship between Eire and the U.S. was complicated. There were millions of Irish immigrants living in America and feelings of goodwill between people in both countries was strong. But Éamon de Valera, the prime minister (or Taoiseach) of Eire, was fiercely independent. On September 2nd, 1939, with World War II imminent, he had declared Eire to be in a state of emergency. The state of emergency gave sweeping powers to the government, including censorship of the press and correspondence and control of the economy. At the same time de Valera declared that Eire would remain neutral in any European war.
It was a popular position among the general population, although there were some factions in Eire that admired Germany, some Irish who rejected anything having to do with the British and some that believed Eire should support the Allies.
Éamon de Valera speaking at a rally in Dublin, June 16, 1940. Box 18, David Gray papers, Coll. No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Once he arrived in Eire, Minister Gray discussed with de Valera their countries’ mutual positions of neutrality. (At that time, the U.S. had also technically adopted a position of neutrality.) About de Valera, Gray wrote, “I not only liked his country and his people, but I liked him.”
In June of 1940, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill told de Valera that the United Kingdom would push for Irish unity, under de Valera’s leadership, if Eire would abandon its position of neutrality and allow British use of ports in Eire. De Valera had long argued that Northern Ireland (which was part of the United Kingdom) and Eire should be united. But de Valera had turned down the offer, doubting that Churchill could deliver on his promise and fearing Eire would be flattened by a German attack. Despite de Valera’s official stance on neutrality, tens of thousands of Irish enlisted in the British Armed Forces to fight against the Germans.
As Gray’s diplomatic posting stretched into years, he maintained regular meetings with de Valera while corresponding with President Roosevelt twice monthly. De Valera came to Gray with requests – including asking him to lobby Roosevelt to provide American arms for Eire’s self-defense. Roosevelt remained noncommittal as de Valera continued to insist on neutrality.
Letter from Éamon de Valera to David Gray, April 15, 1942. Box 36, David Gray papers, Coll. No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Through their many meetings, Gray had come to believe that de Valera’s perspective on Irish neutrality could change if the U.S. entered World War II. But that was not to be the case. Churchill had, in secret, offered de Valera a second chance to denounce neutrality and join the Allies when it became evident that the U.S. would enter the war.
Shortly after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, de Valera gave a speech in Cork. In his remarks, he recounted the long history of friendship between Ireland and America but reiterated that Ireland “can only be a friendly neutral.”
Extracts from a speech delivered by Éamon de Valera, December 14, 1941. Box 29, David Gray papers, Coll. No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Gray’s frustration with de Valera mounted. Gray wrote, “this very peculiar man … could be extremely hostile one minute and the next sympathetic, without trace of rancor.”
With the entry of the U.S. into World War II, Eire and Northern Ireland became even more strategically important. Geographically the two countries occupied a critical position. They were both the guardian of the eastern approach to Europe from the Atlantic as well as the western approach to Great Britain. Ports and airfields in Eire were strategic militarily.
Map showing Eire, Northern Ireland, the North Atlantic and the west coast of Great Britain, January 18, 1942. Box 6, David Gray papers, Coll. No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Before long, the decision was made to station American troops in Northern Ireland. But the border between Eire and Northern Ireland was porous. American troops stationed in Northern Ireland could easily be spied upon. In fact, Allied intelligence services knew that German spy Herman Goertz was working out of Eire, where the Irish Republican Army (IRA) had helped him evade capture. Additionally, it was known that the German minister in Dublin had a secret radio transmitting set, which was being used to relay weather reports and information gathered by spies to the Nazis. As D-Day (the planned Allied invasion of Europe, beginning in Normandy, France) approached, there was an enhanced need to shut down German espionage in Eire. De Valera refused to cooperate.
De Valera objected to the stationing of American troops in Northern Ireland. Cordell Hull, the U.S. Secretary of State, responded, saying, “The decision to dispatch troops to the British Isles was reached in close consultation with the British Government as part of our strategic plan to defeat the Axis aggressors. There was not, and is not now, the slightest thought or intention of invading Irish territory or threatening Irish security.”
Gray continued to discuss with de Valera Eire’s position of neutrality and the Allies’ need for access to ports, airfields and naval bases in Eire. He also relayed President Roosevelt’s frustration with de Valera’s stance.
First page of a letter from President Franklin D. Roosevelt to David Gray, December 18, 1942. Box 36, David Gray papers, Collection No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
To the Americans, de Valera’s attitude made no sense. Eire was dependent on imports from Great Britain of coal, gasoline, wheat and medicine. Irish ships depended on British convoys when they crossed between Eire and Britain. And ironically, in May of 1941 German aircraft had even dropped bombs on Dublin, the capital of Eire. (The Germans claimed to have made a mistake, intending the attack to have been on Belfast in Northern Ireland. The Allies believed Germany was sending a warning to Eire.) Still, de Valera clung stubbornly to neutrality.
Gray wrote Roosevelt, encouraging him to implement an embargo on petroleum and other products to Eire and expressing Gray’s belief that Britain should do the same. Gray was determined to put pressure on de Valera. The friendship between the two men reached a new low. De Valera said to Gray, “You have never been able to understand the Irish point of view; often I would rather have had anyone else representing America than you.” Gray replied to de Valera, “The trouble is that you don’t understand that I am here to represent the American point of view and to try to make you understand it, in which I have always failed.”
From de Valera’s perspective, Eire largely escaped the devastation of German bombing campaigns by maintaining its neutrality. What remained of the relationship between de Valera and Gray dissipated further in 1945 when de Valera controversially visited the offices of the German ambassador in Dublin to offer his condolences on the death of Adolf Hitler. By July 1947, when Gray was finally recalled from his post in Dublin, seven years had passed, and World War II was over.
Newspaper photograph of David Gray and Éamon de Valera, July, 1947. Box 19, David Gray papers, Collection No. 3082, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Upon his return to the U.S., Gray wrote about his experiences in Eire. Gray concluded that de Valera thought that Germany would win the war. De Valera kept Eire neutral in the hope that Northern Ireland and Eire would be reunited under his leadership if the Nazis won.
The David Gray papers at the American Heritage Center contain correspondence with Franklin D. Roosevelt, Eleanor Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Éamon de Valera and many others. There are also manuscripts and research notes related to Ireland in World War II as well as various pamphlets and periodicals. Gray’s papers remind us of the complicated diplomatic realities that have shaped Irish-American relations.
Post contributed by AHC Writer Kathryn Billington.
“Deep in the heart of the American Heritage Center lies a small but rich series of archival puzzle pieces that tell the story of Mrs. Florence Maybrick, the American lady found guilty of murdering her husband in 1889 Victorian England.” So begins Andrea Hastings-Arrollo’s award-winning analysis of one of the most controversial murder trials in Victorian history—a case that reveals how gender ideologies could literally determine life or death.
Using materials from the Trevor Christie papers at the AHC, archives assembled by journalist Trevor Christie for his 1969 book Etched in Arsenic, Andrea uncovered a story that goes far beyond a simple murder trial. Her research reveals how “the doctrine of true womanhood had been hammered into the societal psyche, which made fairness virtually impossible” for women like Florence Maybrick.
Cover of Christie’s 1969 book Etched in Arsenic: A New Study of the Maybrick Case, which Kirkus Reviews praised at the time for its “objective and resolute” handling of the infamous 1889 Liverpool murder trial. Source: Amazon.com
The Impossible Position of Victorian Women
Andrea’s analysis centers on a fundamental contradiction in Victorian society. As she explains, women “had to cope with the irreconcilable perceptions of women as domestic angels and seductive whores.”
Florence Maybrick, an eighteen-year-old American who married forty-two-year-old English cotton merchant James Maybrick in 1881, found herself trapped by these contradictions. While James openly maintained mistresses and fathered children with them, Florence’s own romantic attachments outside her troubled marriage became the foundation for a murder charge.
Andrea discovered through AHC archives that the household staff at Battlecrease House “endured her because she was Mr. Maybrick’s wife,” and that “her multiple affairs were common knowledge in the household and discussed regularly with condemnation between the servants, and the double standards of the period guarded her spouse from the same brutal judgement.”
When Morality Overrode Evidence
What makes Andrea’s research particularly compelling is her analysis of how gender bias shaped the actual legal proceedings. When James Maybrick died in May 1889 after a brief illness, the evidence against Florence was remarkably thin—his body contained only slight traces of arsenic, not enough to cause death. Yet as Andrea notes, “Morality carried more weight than tangible proof before empirical science had been fully developed and incorporated into law.”
Florence Maybrick, from an illustration by H. Uhlrich published in The Graphic, August 24, 1889. The image appeared during intense media coverage of the Maybrick murder case. Image via Wikipedia, public domain.
Most damning was Judge Sir James Fitzjames Stephen’s explicit statement that Florence’s adultery proved she was capable of murder. Andrea writes: “He told the grand jury that her adulterous intrigue supplied motive, and he obsessed over this point throughout the trial.” The judge literally argued that sexual transgression equaled murderous intent.
Andrea’s archival research revealed an even more troubling detail: the death certificate was altered after Dr. Humphrey spoke with James’s brother Michael, who was convinced of Florence’s guilt after reading her love letter. Originally listing “acute inflammation of the stomach,” the certificate was changed to suggest “arsenical poisoning”—medical evidence rewritten to match moral assumptions.
The Double Bind of Victorian Womanhood
Andrea’s analysis illuminates the impossible position Victorian women faced: “Women were caught between the expectations that they are both incapable of sin and also most susceptible to it because of the unwitting quality projected onto them by a patriarchal system.”
This contradiction played out dramatically in Florence’s case. As Andrea explains, “Maybrick was perceived by the public as both a distressed damsel in need of rescuing and an abomination in need of cleansing.” The same gender ideologies that condemned her as morally corrupt also protected her from execution, leading to her death sentence being commuted to life imprisonment.
“It was precisely the true woman credo which compelled some to condemn the execution of any woman ever,” Andrea notes, while Queen Victoria opposed Florence’s release “primarily because of her moral lapses since no true woman could betray her family as she had.”
Memory and the Construction of History
One of Andrea’s most sophisticated insights involves her analysis of how the Maybrick case was remembered and retold decades later. Using Christie’s interviews from the 1940s, she examined how the journalist gathered memories from people like Florence Aunspaugh, who had spent time at the Maybrick house as a child.
Trevor Christie’s wrote this letter of introduction in November 1941 to Florence Aunspaugh asking her to “enlighten” him on her impressions of James and Florence Maybrick, their relations, “whether their children were well-trained,” their friends, the general atmosphere of the home and other details. Folder: Aunspaugh letters, Box 1, Trevor L. Christie papers, Coll. No. 3266, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Andrea astutely observes that these memories were “culturally and historically conditioned.” She writes: “The subjects and author Christie all brought their own preconditioned beliefs into the project in terms of gender values. Pre-suffrage events had to be reconciled with a post-suffrage culture, one that had been through World War I and was going through World War II as Christie gathered his research.”
This insight reveals Andrea’s sophisticated understanding of how historical memory works: “Miss Aunspaugh was eight years old when she spent a summer at the Maybrick house, and she recalled, or reconstructed, those childhood memories as a woman of sixty-five. Surely the combination of that singular childhood summer in England, the significant passage of time, and the overwhelming media coverage absorbed by society as a whole had some creative power over the memories she contributed.”
Excerpt from Florence Aunspaugh’s 70+ page letter to Christie with her impressions of Florence Maybrick and other details. Here she remarks, “My father said her eyes were a birth-mark. I heard him remark once that ‘a pair of birth-marked eyes had poor James Maybrick to hell.’” But in another excerpt she wrote that her father remembered Florence Maybrick’s eyes had “the look of a frightened animal.” Folder: Aunspaugh letters, Box 1, Trevor L. Christie papers, Coll. No. 3266, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
This excerpt draws a telling parallel between James Maybrick’s “bull-dog tenacity” in courting Florence and his brother Michael’s later relentless pursuit of her conviction. Michael Maybrick, who “hated Florence” according to historical accounts, orchestrated her house arrest and was instrumental in her prosecution. Folder: Aunspaugh letters, Box 1, Trevor L. Christie papers, Coll. No. 3266, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
A Tragic Aftermath
Florence served fifteen years in British prisons under brutal conditions, including nine months in solitary confinement. After her release in 1904, she initially lectured about prison reform and her experiences, but eventually became a recluse in Connecticut, living under her maiden name. She died alone and penniless in 1941, never having seen her children again.
The Lasting Significance
Andrea’s conclusion powerfully synthesizes her analysis: “What we do know for certain based on a widely studied dual definition of women is that Victorian gender ideologies damned Florence Maybrick to prison and a life of struggle, but they also saved her from the immediate finality of a noose.”
Her research demonstrates how the Maybrick case became “a lightning rod for wide social and gender anxieties” as “traditional gender notions were under tension in the late nineteenth century.” Through careful analysis of AHC archival materials, Andrea shows how this single case illuminates the broader contradictions and impossible expectations placed on Victorian women.
American petition for Florence Maybrick’s clemency, published by Chicago’s Inter Ocean, November 28, 1894. The appeal was signed by prominent women journalists and press league members nationwide. Folder: Pardon Crusade, Box 2, Trevor L. Christie papers, Coll. No. 3266, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Perhaps most importantly, Andrea’s work reveals how these historical patterns continue to resonate: “The Trevor Christie Collection exposes an intimate, lesser-known side of Florence Maybrick, but it also tells us a great deal about those who did the remembering in Trevor Christie’s research, including Christie himself.”
Discovering History Through Archives
Andrea’s award-winning research exemplifies the kind of original scholarship possible through careful work with primary sources. The Trevor Christie’s papers at the AHC contains the materials he gathered for his biography of Florence Maybrick: correspondence with Florence Aunspaugh and other witnesses, newspaper clippings spanning decades, photographs, research files on the trial and prison term, and even Christie’s original manuscript. These materials allowed Andrea to reconstruct not just what happened to Florence, but how that story was understood, retold, and reinterpreted across decades of changing social attitudes. As Andrea demonstrates, understanding how memory and gender ideology intersect can reveal profound truths about both past and present.
This post is adapted from Andrea Hastings-Arrollo’s award-winning paper “Gender Ideologies and Memory: A Case Study of the Murder Trial of Florence Maybrick,”written for Dr. Peter Walker’s HIST 3020: Historical Methods course. Andrea received the 2025 American Heritage Center Award for Graduate Student Research for this exceptional work.
About the AHC Graduate Student Research Award
The AHC annually awards $500 to recognize excellence in graduate student research using the Center’s primary sources. Open to University of Wyoming graduate students in any discipline, the award accepts projects in various forms—research papers, creative writing, exhibits, podcasts, websites—as long as they’re based substantially on AHC materials.
The next deadline for nominations is May 17, 2026. For more information, contact AHC Toppan Rare Book Curator Dr. Mary Beth Brown at Mary.Brown@uwyo.edu.
You know what they say: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But then, what is the American Heritage Center of Wyoming doing with personally autographed photos from the likes of Nat King Cole, Sammy Davis Jr., and Dean Martin? Where did it get all these fantastic postcards from the Sands Hotel in its heyday? Well, my curious friend, it is my great honor to introduce you to Antonio Morelli and his music.
Anthony “Antonio” Morelli. From Photo File: Morelli: Antonio, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
A New Dawn in Las Vegas
But before we can meet him, let’s set the stage: In the post-war era of the late 1940s and 1950s, Las Vegas, Nevada, found itself in serious need of a rebrand. American sensibilities were changing and the “sin city” image of a mob-run gambling capital and swinger’s paradise just did not fit the bill anymore. While the allure of gambling would remain the crown jewel of Vegas, the casino owners and businessmen of the city were determined to paint a new image of the neon oasis – One of high-class entertainment nestled in resort casinos, designed to attract both wealthy tourists and families looking for a vacation. But just how were they to bring this kind of refined sheen to the Mojave Desert?
For Jack Entratter, then president of the Sands Hotel and Casino, the key to revitalizing the Vegas image was to bring the pomp and shine of classical music behind his headliners. Thus, enter Antonio Morelli. Instantly recognizable by his finely waxed, pencil-tipped mustache, Morelli had previously been met by Entratter in New York City’s famous Copacabana Club, and in 1954, was recruited by him as the musical director of the Sands
“The Toscanini of the Desert”
Morelli’s time at the Copacabana was only one of many qualifications that made him fit the bill of a new Las Vegas. The son of a fine arts professor and symphony flutist, Morelli studied classical music for eleven years in Italy, first at Milan’s San Celso Military Academy, and then the Royal Conservatories of Music of both Milan and Parma.
In 1925, he returned to the United States to a dizzying number of roles across the country. He once served as the musical director of the St. Louis Musical Opera. In New York, he took on both choral composer and orchestrator for Radio City Music Hall and was the orchestra leader for Albany’s RKO Palace Theater. He toured the United States, conducting both civic orchestras in cities like Dallas, Denver, New Orleans, and Chicago, as well as to conduct the pit orchestras of various theater chains such as Warner, Paramount, Pantages, and Shubert.
Clearly, the Sand’s orchestra, purportedly the biggest the Strip had at the time, was in experienced hands. As Entratter brought in the stars, Morelli transformed the Sands’s Copa Room (named, funnily enough, for the Copacabana Club) time and time again to create performances worth paying for.
While many performers tended to bring their own musical directors to Vegas, Morelli insisted on constant collaboration, upping the Copa Room’s small brass band to a full stringed orchestra. The Sands saw performances and residencies from stars known far and wide, from figures like Nat King Cole, to, most famously, the Rat Pack. As the Sands championed headliners like Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Sammy Davis Jr., just below those big names on the marquee, and just behind them in the show, was Antonio Morelli and his orchestra.
Morelli (back left) watching the antics of Frank Sinatra (blindfolded, left), Sammy Davis Jr. (center), and Dean Martin (right). From Photo File: Martin, Dean Martin, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Beyond the Copa Room
Entertaining the new brand of wealthy, educated tourists on the Strip was far from Morelli’s only impact on the city of Las Vegas. Not only did he bring classical culture to the Sands, but he brought it to the vast population living in the valley. Not long after his arrival in 1954, Morelli established his Las Vegas Pops Concert Orchestra. These pops concerts, often referred to as “Shirt Sleeve Symphonies,” were free to attend, and offered a wide range of musical exposure to the Vegas community. Performed first at the Sands’s own convention center and then ballooning into the Las Vegas Convention Center, the Shirt Sleeve Symphonies offered anything from popular music to concertized versions of operas such as Aida.
Additionally, Morelli organized countless holiday concerts, often in collaboration with the Las Vegas Community Choir. These programs, again free to the public, drew thousands of community members – At one point, both the Christmas and Easter programs drew up to 5,000 audience members, with a Good Friday concert boasting more than 10,000.
Marquee of the Las Vegas Convention Center for a Morelli Mother’s Day Concert, undated. Box 61. Antonio Morelli papers, Coll. No. 6347, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Morelli cared about the musical and cultural health of the city he came to call home – a far cry from his childhood home of Erie, Pennsylvania. Outside of his accessible concerts, he also put forward a music performance trust fund to subsidize the salaries of his musicians, and he would often showcase young musicians in his pops performances as “Musicians of the Future.” To this day, a scholarship he arranged way back in 1969 continues to provide opportunities for students looking to pursue music at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas – the Antonio Morelli Friends of Music Endowment Fund.
Program to the Christmas Concert and Pageant, performed by Morelli and the Las Vegas Community Chorus, 1960. Box 6B, Antonio Morelli papers, Coll. No. 6347, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
After the Curtain Call
Today, despite his impact on one of the most notable eras of Las Vegas and midcentury America, this once so-called “Toscanini of the Desert” seems to have faded into the background of the great performers he supported. His legacy lives well beyond his passing in 1974 and the demolition of the Sands in 1996 – if you know where to look for it.
Now that you know his name and his face, maybe you can imagine him and his orchestra elevating the sounds of the Rat Pack when you listen to their live recordings at the Sands. Maybe you can keep an eye out for him in the background of those fellas making fools of themselves in the Copa Room, grinning at their antics behind that signature mustache. And maybe, if you’re a real Vegas nerd like yours truly, you’ll come scour the boxes of his collection at the American Heritage Center and see just how much of Las Vegas he touched.
Frank Sinatra, Antonio Morelli, and an unknown pianist. From Photo File: Sinatra, Frank, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Post contributed by AHC Audiovisual Archivist Aide Marty Murray.
This Pride Month, the American Heritage Center highlights the Roberta R. “Bobbie” Zenker papers, an important addition to our collection documenting varied experiences in the American West. Acquired in March 2023, this collection provides researchers with valuable primary source material chronicling one person’s unique journey through Montana’s legal, social, and natural landscapes.
A Montana Legal Career and Personal Transformation
Born in Silver Spring, Maryland, in 1957, Zenker established a distinguished legal career in Montana, eventually serving as Madison County Attorney from 1997 to 2006. The collection documents both this professional journey and Zenker’s subsequent personal transformation as a transgender woman, as chronicled in her memoir TransMontana: A Memoir of Transformation in Body, Mind, and Spirit.
Embracing freedom in the Montana wilderness. During her transition period, Zenker would occasionally drive into the mountains to be her authentic self in nature, capturing these moments with self-portraits. As she described in her 2024 oral history: “I had these photographs that I took of me when I would get dressed, get in the truck and drive up in the mountains and just me and my face in the sun. It was glorious.” This image embodies what Zenker called “coming out of the box” – the emergence of her true self in a space where she could experience joy and authenticity away from societal constraints. Roberta R. “Bobbie” Zenker papers, Coll. No. 12881, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming
“At the pinnacle. I was 48 years old. I was the county attorney,” Zenker recalls in her December 2024 oral history with AHC Archivist Leslie Waggener and collaborator Gregory Hinton. The collection offers researchers unique insights into both professional life in rural Montana’s legal system and the personal challenges of gender transition in a small-town context.
Faith Across Transitions
A distinctive aspect of Zenker’s papers is the documentation of her spiritual journey. Raised Catholic and later experiencing what she describes as a “born again” moment during a high school retreat, Zenker’s collection reveals how faith remained constant throughout life’s transitions.
“I think it kept me alive,” Zenker notes when discussing spirituality’s role during difficult periods. These materials provide researchers with nuanced perspectives on the intersection of faith and personal identity in rural America—perspectives that often defy simple categorization.
Bobbie Zenker in 2009, two years after her transition. Throughout her journey, spirituality remained a constant anchor in Zenker’s life. This faith was present even during her most difficult transitions. Her mother, who initially consulted with her parish priest about Bobbie’s transition, became one of her strongest supporters and was present for her gender confirmation surgery. Roberta R. “Bobbie” Zenker papers, Coll. No. 12881, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Photographer’s Eye: From Hunter to Observer
Perhaps the most visually compelling elements of the Zenker collection are her wildlife photographs, which represent another significant transformation. After decades as a hunter in Montana, Zenker eventually exchanged her rifle for a telephoto lens—a shift she describes poignantly in her oral history:
When you hunt, you train your scope on the vitals of an animal. When you take a photograph, at least I trained my lens on the eyes… And I believe that the eyes are in fact a window to the soul. And once you’ve looked into the soul of an animal, you can never shoot them again.”
This philosophical evolution is documented through photographs and writings that will interest researchers studying changing relationships with Montana’s natural environment.
Beyond personal narrative, the Zenker collection provides important documentation of Montana communities from the 1980s through the 2010s. Her experiences in Ashland, Virginia City, Helena, and other locations offer researchers windows into these communities during decades of significant change.
The Roberta R. “Bobbie” Zenker papers are available for research at the AHC. The collection includes correspondence, newspaper clippings, photographs, speeches, manuscripts, notes, and her published memoir, offering scholars a comprehensive resource for understanding multiple aspects of Montana history.
Bobbie Zenker at a Pride celebration. After her transition, Zenker became an outspoken advocate, conducting ‘Trans 101’ workshops throughout Montana for healthcare providers and various organizations. Despite being the ‘first and only transgender lawyer in Montana’ at the time, Zenker faced both acceptance and hostility, including at legislative sessions where she testified for transgender rights. Her advocacy work included serving as a plaintiff in an ACLU case and speaking on platforms like Montana Public Radio. Roberta R. “Bobbie” Zenker papers, Coll. No. 12881, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Explore More LGBTQ+ History at the AHC
The story of Bobbie Zenker’s journey reflects the broader narrative of LGBTQ+ visibility that evolved throughout the late 20th century. To explore how mainstream media portrayed queer experiences during these pivotal decades, visit our online exhibit “A Different Kind of Spotlight: How the media has portrayed queerness throughout the decades.”
This digital exhibition features materials from the Bennett Hammer collection, showcasing LGBT+ community representation in media from the ‘80s and ‘90s—the same era when Zenker was establishing her legal career and beginning her personal transformation.
Post contributed by AHC Archivist Leslie Waggener.
Felicia Gizycka was born in 1905 to Count Josef Gizycki and his wife, Countess Eleanor “Cissy” Patterson. Her early years were colored by her father’s kidnapping of her and her mother’s aloofness. Her adult life was one of “international flapper,” failed romances, and writing. From her parents to her choices in romantic partners, Felicia’s story exhibits hallmarks of 20th century life. Today the American Heritage Center is excited to share her and her mother’s story.
Felicia’s story begins with her mother, Cissy, who was the granddaughter of Chicago Tribune powerhouse Joseph Medill. Cissy’s mother, Elinor “Nellie” Patterson was the second born daughter, who married Robert Patterson.
Born in November 1881, Cissy’s childhood was one of privilege. She was educated at Miss Porter’s school in Farmington, Connecticut- preparing for her eventual role as wife and mother. But Cissy had a stubborn, independent streak that had her mother in fits and made her a darling of her grandfather.
Cissy, like many other young women of her social class, came with a sizable dowry – one that would draw attention from various suitors. Prime among them were Nicholas Longworth (the future husband of Alice Roosevelt, who was the daughter of Theodore Roosevelt and one of Cissy’s friends and enemies) and Count Josef Gizycki.
Eleanor “Cissy” Patterson. Image from the Harris & Ewing Collection, Library of Congress.
Cissy’s romance with Count Gizycki reflects the same story as other heiresses of her time, the so-called “Dollar Princesses,” who left the United States and married aristocracy elsewhere. Cissy’s count was impoverished, his estates in Russian Poland as destitute as they were remote. Josef had a gambling problem, creating debts that had Cissy’s dowry catching his eye.
The pair first met when Cissy traveled abroad with her aunt and uncle, who was the ambassador to Austria-Hungary, and later Russia. They met at a horse race and maintained correspondence even after Cissy returned to the United States. He asked for her hand, multiple times, and finally traveled to America himself in 1904 to push the issue. He was unpopular with her family, thanks to his reputation, but she came with a $30,000 a year income that her destitute gambling fiancé needed. They were finally wed in April of 1904, and that is where Cissy’s fairytale ended.
They traveled to Josef’s remote, barren estates in Russian Poland, and upon arriving home, the count told his new bride that he only married her for her dowry and to beget a legitimate child. In 1905, the couple welcomed that child, Felicia, but family life was never smooth for the small family. Josef was abusive, when he wasn’t out sleeping with other women. He and Cissy separated and rejoined many times before she decided to leave him. This time, still bruised and battered from her husband, and with the help of servants, Cissy and her daughter attempted to flee to London, and from there, America.
But Josef was not so willing to let his legitimate heir, or his wife, go. He followed them and kidnapped Felicia from a London park, disguised in goggles and a fur coat, and took her to an Austrian convent. This was a deliberate choice on Josef’s part – Europe did not recognize divorce, so it would take the order of the Tsar to return Felicia to her mother. However, the count was unlucky.
The Patterson family happened to be friends with then President-elect Taft, who agreed to intercede in the matter for the family. Felicia settled in Vienna, waiting for the debacle to end, while Taft wrote a personal letter to Tsar Nicholas II asking him to return Felicia to her mother. When the count returned to his estate, he was arrested by the Tsar and ordered to return Felicia to her mother.
The scandal had become international news in the interim; newspapers dubbed the child “the Little Countess Felicia” in their stories and inflamed the pressure on all parties involved.1 Amidst rumors of a $500,000 ransom in the same newspapers, Felicia was returned to her mother’s hotel suite in Vienna. Felicia never saw her father again, and after eighteen months, she was returned to her mother and together they left for the United States. For the rest of her childhood, Felicia was accompanied by a private detective after her father’s actions. It took her mother thirteen years to obtain a divorce from the Count, and it would only be recognized in the United States, as Europe didn’t support the idea of divorce.
Cissy and Felica settled close to other Patterson family members in Lake Forest, Illinois; however, the family had many residences, and Cissy also purchased homes of her own over the course of Felica’s childhood, including Flat Creek Ranch in Jackson, Wyoming. Other homes included the Patterson mansion in Washington D.C. – 15 Dupont Circle, a Long Island estate, and Mount Airy Mansion in Washington D.C.
Cissy returned to Washington D.C. in 1913, and by 1920 her brother caved to her pleas to allow her to work for his paper The New York Daily News. She also got a job working for William Randolph Hearst, the man from whom she would eventually purchase both the Washington Herald, and the Washington Times papers. She would go on to combine them and turn them into one of the most successful dailies in the capital. But her familial life was far less smooth.
Tension between mother and daughter grew early and followed them both through the rest of their lives. Felicia was raised mostly by servants and was just as stubborn and independent as her mother before her. Mother and daughter quarreled often, and Cissy was prone to ignoring the similarities between herself as a child and her daughter – choosing to blame her daughter’s willfulness on the “Polish” side. As for Felicia, she grew up rotating between her family’s many estates and properties. She spoke multiple languages from an early age, including some French learned in the convent, German, Russian, and English (though not as well).
By the time she reached young adulthood, Felicia was as prone to dramatics as her mother had been before her. She ran away from the ranch in Wyoming, allegedly riding a horse down a canyon, taking money from her account before leaving, and traveling first to Salt Lake and then on to San Diego. There Felicia was able to live undetected for four months, working as a waitress and living in a rooming house.
Excerpt from a newspaper article titled “My Ride up to the Ranch” about Felicia Gizycka from the Jackson Hole News. Box 2, Felicia Gizycka papers, Coll. No. 12924, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
It was not Cissy that followed her daughter to California and attempted to bring her home. Rather, it was a suitor that Felicia had already rebuffed once, calling him a bore. That suitor was Andrew “Drew” Pearson. Felicia had no interest in marriage and family life, but eventually Drew was able to convince her. He did so by telling her they could try marriage for three years and if she didn’t like it, they could divorce after the three-year mark. It worked, and the couple was wed in 1925 in Long Beach, California, before they returned east.
The couple lived in Georgetown, Washington, D.C., where Felicia worked as a film reviewer for the Washington Post, and her husband continued to build his own journalism career. In 1926 the couple welcomed their daughter Ellen Pearson. Felicia, at exactly three years, told Pearson that she wanted a divorce, and in 1928 they divorced. The Patterson family curse of tension between mother and daughter struck again – Felicia and her daughter had a tension-filled relationship, like her own with her mother.
After her divorce, Felicia lived life as an “international flapper.” She roamed the globe, drinking and writing – both fiction and journalism. Like her mother, Felicia was a writer by trade but not necessarily by training or education. And, like her mother, she published two novels in her life. The first in 1932 –The House of Violence, and the second in 1939 – Flower of Smoke. Her first piece of fiction had been published in the Liberty magazine run by her uncle, and she would continue to publish short stories. She also worked in the journalism trade, like many other family members, writing film reviews and for a time Paris restaurant reviews.
Cissy often helped her daughter gain writing opportunities, or they came from other members of the family, but she also bemoaned her daughter’s romantic tendencies. Felicia’s mother often had to bail her out of romantic entanglements as Felicia seemed to fall in and out of love easily and often. Like her mother before her, she was even briefly courted by a Polish count of her own, but his suit was rejected by the family when he asked for a $1 million dollar dowry.
Instead, Felicia’s second husband was an Englishman. Dudley de Lavigne was an English insurance broker (who was broke) and a part of the Prince of Wales’s social circle. They were married and divorced in 1934. Felicia had not even notified her mother about the marriage prior to Cissy receiving the announcement. But she still sent her lawyer to help her daughter with the divorce suit later that same year.
However, relations between mother and daughter eroded further after Felicia’s 1939 novel was published. It was autobiographical, and the descriptions of a “heartless socialite mother” in the story were unflattering and infuriated her mother.2 By 1945, relations between mother and daughter were so bad that Felicia publicly “divorced” her mother. Cissy offered Felicia a floor of the Washington House, but Felicia denied the offer, instead choosing to live off on inheritance from a grandmother and her writing.
By the time her mother died in 1948, Cissy’s will had been reworked dozens of times. She was a bit obsessed with her own demise and spoke of it often at dinner parties and other social gatherings. In those varied iterations, Felicia’s inheritance had changed drastically. Cissy’s estate was estimated at around $16 million in 1948, and there were varied interested parties to see who would end up with what of that vast sum.
In the 1924 version of her mother’s will, Cissy called her a “beloved daughter” and Felicia was her sole heir. By 1948, Cissy had drastically “reduced” her daughter’s inheritance. Felicia was not left her mother’s newspapers, or even a stake in them; rather she was left household goods, artwork, clothing and jewelry, properties in North Dakota, and the Long Island estate.
Felicia decided to challenge her mother’s will, as she had been all but disinherited. Her ensuing legal battle was carried out with the help of her ex-husband, Drew Pearson. He became involved himself because of the chance his daughter would inherit nothing if he didn’t intervene. He and Cissy Patterson had their own contentious relationship and had often made pointed barbs in their newspaper writings against one another. And for Felicia, she was once again featured in numerous newspapers with the legal battle, all of whom covered the drama readily. By the end of the suit, Felicia walked away with a lump sum of $400,000 tax-free (more than $5 million in today’s dollars). At 44 years old Felicia had become wealthy in her own right and was free of her mother.
Drew Pearson speaking to a crowd gathered at City Hall Plaza in New York City to greet the Friendship Train, 1947. This was a relief effort initiated by Pearson after World War II to send food, clothing, and other supplies to the people of France and Italy. Image from Encyclopædia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Drew-Pearson
Her mother’s newspapers went to seven stakeholders, as had been slated to in the original 1948 version of her will. In less than a year, Cissy’s empire began to crumble. Within the same year, the stakeholders sold the paper to her cousin, Colonel McCormick. Her cousin would sell off the paper in five years to the competing Washington Post, who promptly closed it.
After her mother’s death, Felicia continued writing, moving mostly between New Canaan, Connecticut, and Wyoming. In 1958, Felicia married for the third time. Her new husband, John Kennedy Magruder, was a landscape architect who also ran the Alcoholics Anonymous Men’s Home in Alexandria, Virginia. This marriage, like the two before it, ended in divorce. However, Felica kept her husband’s name, writing under both, for the rest of her life.
In 1995, Felicia moved for the final time from New Canaan to Laramie, Wyoming, where her daughter Ellen had married local attorney George Arnold. She moved into a retirement community and lived the rest of her life there. She died on February 26, 1999, at ninety-three years old. Most of her life had been defined by her relationship with her mother, or with her romances. Her relationships were all built on the same foundation as the one with her mother. Felicia once said, “I spent so much time hating my mother. How could I ever really love anyone else?”3
Photo of Felicia Gizycka from the article “My Ride up to the Ranch” in the Jackson Hole News. Box 2, Felicia Gizycka papers, Coll. No. 12924, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Felicia Gizycka papers were donated to the American Heritage Center in 2024, and though the collection is small, it drew interest from members of the staff, including myself. I was drawn to this story, both for its reflections of 20th century hallmarks, as well as for the seemingly dramatic narrative that made up Felicia’s life. Discovering her ties to many important members of the press in the 20th century, as well as her family connections to the state of Wyoming has been a fun challenge. It has re-inspired a love of research and 20th century American history.
Post contributed by AHC Processing Archivist Brittany Heye.
The American Heritage Center houses a vast number of Stan Lee’s personal papers, including handwritten notecards from 1984 that reveal his first ideas for a Spider-Man movie. Last fall, I had the amazing opportunity to view copies of these notecards and transcribe them. Through the process of deciphering Stan Lee’s unique handwriting, I experienced, firsthand, the ups and downs of transcribing handwritten documents. I also gained a deeper appreciation for handwriting in general, as it gives us a window into understanding the humans behind our history.
What is Transcription?
Transcription is the process of converting something into written form. Spoken words, for instance, can be transcribed so that there’s a written document of what was said. When it comes to already-written documents that are found in an archive, someone might transcribe an individual’s distinctive handwriting style into a typed format in order to make it easier and quicker to read. Reading handwriting can be difficult and time-consuming, even more so with styles like cursive which we may not be as familiar with. In outlining my process of transcribing Stan Lee’s Spider-Man movie notes, my hope is to assure people that anyone can take part in the important and rewarding experience of transcribing handwritten documents at the archive.
My First Look at the Notecards
Going into this project, I assumed the task of transcribing Stan Lee’s handwriting would be fairly straightforward. I mistakenly believed that only centuries-old handwriting is difficult to read. These notecards were quite challenging for me to get through even though Stan Lee wrote them not all that long ago. Below is one of the first notecards I reviewed. I quickly realized this was going to be a lot harder than I had initially thought!
This notecard reads: “Peter sees Dr. Octavius lecturing, demonstrating use of waldoes. Ock’s waldoes work better than anyone else’s because he applies secret anti-grav discs which no one else knows about. Ock humorously mentions he wishes he had these years ago to stop his infant child from getting into everything.” Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 1 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming..
It’s all about a person’s individual handwriting style—if you aren’t familiar with it, then it’s going to take some time to get used to, no matter how old it is. These notecards may not have been written in eighteenth-century cursive, but Stan Lee’s handwriting style is unique all the same. He primarily wrote in uppercase on these notecards, and several of his letters look alike, particularly his vowels.
All of this is to say that I was immediately overwhelmed the first time I looked at the notecards. I needed to reevaluate my approach and start looking at this like a puzzle that needed to be solved.
Getting Started
After I started to approach this project with more of an open mind, I was able to recognize a huge advantage that I had that won’t always be the case with every transcription project. That is, I was already familiar with some important details about Spider-Man’s story. I already knew about Peter Parker, Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Doc Ock, Flash Thompson, and J. Jonah Jameson before I even started reading. If I found these characters’ names on the notecards, then I could use them to establish what Stan Lee’s individual letters look like. This was crucial in helping me decipher trickier words that happened to contain these letters. Below is the very first notecard. It immediately taught me a lot about Stan Lee’s handwriting, including the distinctive way he wrote the letter A. Finding “Aunt May” on this notecard provided me with two examples of the letter A that I could then apply to other words that weren’t immediately obvious to me.
This notecard reads: “Spider weaves web over credits. At end, Aunt May brushes it away with a broom. She hates spiders.” Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 1 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Knowing details about the general plot of Spider-Man also helped quite a bit. For example, we all know that Spider-Man’s origin story includes him being bitten by a radioactive spider and gaining superpowers. I knew that these details were sure to show up somewhere in the notecards. Below is a notecard that discusses the radioactive spider bite and Peter Parker learning about his new powers. “Muggers” was a tricky word for me to figure out on this card, but it helped that I knew the context and that it was written twice. After I discovered this was a word that Stan Lee used in this context, it was easier to recognize on subsequent notecards.
This notecard reads: “Peter attacked by some muggers after lecture (after radioactive spider bite). Peter beats up 3 muggers easily. Leaps onto wall to save himself from car. Tests his new abilities. Can crawl on walls & ceilings like a spider!” Box 10, Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 2 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Solving the Puzzle
The transcription process went from overwhelming to fun as I became more familiar with Stan Lee’s handwriting. I got better at recognizing the way he wrote different letters, and I learned which letters I frequently got mixed up. For example, the way Stan Lee wrote the letter U often looked like the letter V to me. In addition, his letter H sometimes looked like the letter W. As stated earlier, I also confused Stan Lee’s vowels, mostly A, E, and O. The notecard below includes examples of these letters and hopefully illustrates why I struggled with them.
This notecard reads: “Peter sees Doc Ock taken away on a stretcher. Peter thinks nothing much of it. But – he will!” Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 2 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
After I had quite a bit of practice reading Stan Lee’s handwriting and was starting to feel more confident in my ability to transcribe it, I stumbled upon some notecards that feature cursive. I had to adjust to this new style, and this also took time. A notecard featuring a mix of Stan Lee’s uppercase and his cursive is shown below.
This notecard reads: “JJ buys Spidey pix (protestingly). Peter suspects that Robbie is suspicious re his real identity. Both men like each other.” Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 6 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
As the transcription process became easier, I found myself in a better position to appreciate Stan Lee’s voice and humor. Even though I know Spider-Man’s story, I still found myself invested in what was going to happen next. There were some details that were new to me because they aren’t found in the Spider-Man adaptations that I’m familiar with. It’s amazing to be able to see Stan Lee’s ideas in his own handwriting. I was only able to really appreciate what was in front of me after I worked through my initial feelings of fear and frustration. Stan Lee’s voice and humor shine through in the notecard shown below which details a scene that takes place during the climax of the story.
This notecard reads: “Ock, via radio, demands a billion dollars – amnesty – one state to rule as his own – can be a small one, even Rhode Island will do – laughs, doesn’t wanna be thought of as unreasonable. Demands must be meet [sic] in 3 hours – after that, ray will dissipate!” Box 10, Folder 12, Envelope 10 of 11, Stan Lee papers, Coll. No. 8302, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Reading Handwriting Matters
The most important thing I learned from this experience is that being patient pays off in a big way. Transcription will be overwhelming and frustrating at points, but you will learn as you go and what you discover along the way is worth it. I took the time to understand what Stan Lee was saying in these notecards, and in addition to accessing a special version of Spider-Man’s story, I also got an intimate view of Stan Lee’s creative process and who he was as a person. I would have never experienced this if I hadn’t worked to decipher his handwriting. Reading historical handwriting lets us interact with people’s stories in such a unique way, and there is something valuable to be learned from any transcription project. Just remember to take your time, take lots of breaks, ask for help when you need it, and recognize the significance of the individuals who wrote down their stories!
Interested in Transcription?
Information is for everybody, and nobody should be deterred from discovering information just because they can’t read a certain handwriting. Going to an archive to interact with historical documents is an incredibly rewarding experience, but not everybody has the time or resources to transcribe a document’s contents from start to finish in order to understand the importance of what is being said. Viewing a typed transcript alongside the original document is the best of both worlds—it helps people more easily access the information while also allowing them to see the personality of the individual who wrote it. If you enjoy working through puzzles, consider volunteering to help transcribe handwritten documents at the American Heritage Center. You can also come view the Stan Lee Papers at the AHC to learn more about his legendary career and discover how his early Spider-Man movie ideas compare to the story we know and love!
Post contributed by AHC Graduate Assistant Harper Pachel, a student in the University of Wyoming’s American Studies Program.
When students hurry through the doors of William Robertson Coe Library today, few may realize they’re entering a building born not just from architectural necessity, but from Cold War politics, academic freedom battles, and the vision of a passionate Americana collector. The story of Coe Library represents a fascinating intersection of Wyoming’s educational growth, post-war anxieties, and philanthropic influence.
From Necessity to Reality: The Building’s Origins
By the early 1950s, the University of Wyoming had outgrown its library facilities in the Aven Nelson Building. The post-war enrollment boom—fueled by returning veterans using the GI Bill—had stretched campus resources to their limits. In 1945-46, UW’s enrollment stood at just 1,500 students, but by 1946-47, that number had exploded to 3,364 students, with over 2,000 veterans among them.
Despite the clear need, the 1951 Wyoming Legislature rejected funding requests for a new library. The solution came from an unexpected benefactor: William Robertson Coe, a wealthy financier, thoroughbred racehorse owner, and passionate collector of Americana who had ties to Wyoming through his ownership of the former “Buffalo Bill” Cody’s Irma Lake Lodge near Cody.
William Robertson Coe.Photo from Oregon-California Trails Association website.
In 1954, Coe contributed $750,000 in securities to the university. The state legislature matched this grant in 1955, creating a $1.5 million fund for the library’s construction. Coe passed away in 1955, one year before ground was broken on the building that would bear his name.
Building and Growth
The library, designed collaboratively by Porter and Bradley of Cheyenne and Hitchcock and Hitchcock of Laramie (whose father had designed the previous library in the Aven Nelson building), was constructed between 1956-1958 in the innovative “modular style” that allowed flexible rearrangement of spaces.
Coe construction. Box 111, Hitchcock & Hitchcock records at AHC
Newly completed Coe Library. Photo File: College and Universities-University of Wyoming-Buildings-Coe Library, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Since its dedication in October 1958, Coe Library has evolved significantly with major expansions including the five-story East Wing added in 1977 and a comprehensive 94,500 square foot modernization completed in 2009, which added computer labs, study spaces, classrooms, and the Emmett Chisum Special Collections while relocating the main entrance to better serve campus.
Students study in the new Coe Library. Box 111 Hitchcock & Hitchcock records, Coll. 9921, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Students still study at Coe Library, but technology is updated to the 21st century. Photo from UW Libraries webpage.
The Man Behind the Name
William Robertson Coe (1869-1955) was far more than just a wealthy donor. His path began humbly as a 15-year-old office boy for a Philadelphia insurance broker. Through talent and fortuitous connections—particularly his marriage to Mai Rogers, daughter of a Standard Oil executive—Coe rose to become a powerful business figure.
Beyond his business acumen, Coe developed a deep passion for the American West and became increasingly concerned about what he perceived as ideological threats to American values during the Cold War. This concern led him to establish and fund American Studies programs at forty colleges and universities nationwide, including the University of Wyoming.
A Library Born from Controversy
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Coe Library’s history is how its funding emerged partially from a significant academic freedom controversy that rocked the University of Wyoming in 1947-48.
During the early Cold War period, fears of Communist influence permeated American society. In October 1947, the UW Board of Trustees, led by chairman Milward Simpson (a prominent Cody attorney), passed a motion to establish a committee to examine textbooks in the social sciences “to determine if such books were subversive or un-American.”
The faculty reacted swiftly, voting overwhelmingly (123-24) to oppose this censorship effort. A “committee of 15” faculty members, led by History Department chair Dr. T.A. Larson, was formed to defend academic freedom. The controversy gained national attention, with some media reports darkly implying that UW was troubled with subversives.
UW History Professor Dr. T.A. Larson chaired a faculty committee that opposed the trustees’ censorship attempts. Box 1, T.A. Larson papers, Coll. No. 400029, American Heritage Center , University of Wyoming.
After several tense months and negotiations, the Board of Trustees ultimately dropped the investigation, particularly after President Humphrey’s investigating committee found no instances of “subversion” in the 65 books they examined. The Board affirmed that principles of academic freedom would be applied at UW from that time forward.
William Robertson Coe, who had been watching these events unfold, was impressed by the university’s stance on anti-Communism. He developed close friendships with both Milward Simpson and UW President Humphrey. His proposal to establish an American Studies program at UW where “principles of capitalism and anti-Communism could be taught” eventually led to his generous donation.
Coe’s will not only provided funds for construction of an “American Studies Building” (today’s History building) but also specified that “if sufficient funds remained,” the university could use the money to build a “general library” as a wing to the building—what we now know as Coe Library.
This building that currently houses the UW History Dept. is the structure funded by Coe for American Studies. Image from UW History Dept. webpage.
Legacy and Reflection
What began as a controversy that could have torn the university apart instead resulted in positive outcomes: funding for a new American Studies program, construction of a much-needed library, and the establishment of enduring principles of academic freedom at UW.
Explore More Campus History
Want to see how Coe Library fits into the broader story of UW’s campus evolution? Explore our online exhibit “Keeping History Alive: 136 Years of Progress” on Virmuze, where historic photographs from the AHC’s collections are paired with contemporary campus images to show how our university has transformed over more than a century. For additional perspectives on campus development and architecture, explore our exhibit “University of Wyoming: A Brief History of Campus.”
This post is part of our continuing series on the architectural heritage of the University of Wyoming. Visit the American Heritage Center to learn more about the university’s fascinating history.
Post contributed by AHC Simpson Archivist Leslie Waggener.
In 1994, a small but dedicated group of Wyoming women came together to start documenting the state’s quilts. The Wyoming Quilt Project was created with a mission of photographing and recording details about Wyoming’s quilts—those that were made in the state and those that had made their way here over time. The women who organized the project understood that quilts hold valuable information that can help us learn about the past. They documented almost 3,000 quilts over the next two decades before donating the records to the American Heritage Center for future researchers and quilt-lovers to study and admire.
The Preservation Team
Several of the women who started the Wyoming Quilt Project had previously worked on Colorado’s quilt documentation project, and they recognized the need to do something similar for Wyoming. Tammy Au-France was one of the founding members of the project, and Sonya Meyer, from UW’s Family & Consumer Sciences Department at the time, was also involved. I recently got in contact with Au-France and Meyer, and they were kind enough to answer some questions about the project and share their experiences with me.
Au-France shared that she, Anne Olsen, Wendye Ware, Kathleen Bertoncelj, and Brett Selmer were the founding members of the project. Later on, Meyer and many other volunteers also joined the state’s quilt documentation project. Meyer shared that one of her fondest memories about the project was “the camaraderie of working with the other women on a common passion.” Shown below is a photo of some of the women who turned the idea of documenting Wyoming’s quilts into a reality.
A photo album page that shows quilts that were documented in 1995 and a group photo of some of the women involved in the project. Box 25, Wyoming Quilt Project Records, 1994-2013, Coll. No. 12713, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Project Goals
The primary goal of the project was simple: to learn about and record the stories behind Wyoming’s quilts. The self-funded group of quilt-lovers traveled to towns across Wyoming and invited people to bring in their quilts to be examined and photographed. It didn’t matter if the quilts were old or new, small or large, or made in Wyoming or not. It only mattered that they resided in Wyoming and hadn’t been documented in any other state. Au-France shared that the group wanted to ensure that the quilts’ histories weren’t lost. She believes they achieved this goal, especially given that the project ended when the number of participants bringing in quilts slowed substantially.
Each quilt was assigned an identification number, and a thorough investigation of each quilt was conducted to identify its age, materials, patterns, and construction. The members of the project also encouraged people to share any information they had about their quilt and the person who had made it. For a small fee, people would receive a photo of their quilt and a copy of the information that had been gleaned from the analysis. These documentation forms and photographs were saved for the AHC, making up the majority of the Wyoming Quilt Project Records.
Newspaper article from 1994 calling on people to bring in their quilts to be documented for the project. The Platte County Record Times, Volume 71, Number 31, August 13, 1994, wyomingnewspapers.org.
The Collection
The quilt documentation forms hold an abundance of information about Wyoming’s quilts. The examiners took measurements and recorded pattern names and the types of materials and techniques used. They recorded the visual appearance of each quilt including the predominant colors, binding, quilting, batting, and backing. In addition, they assessed the condition of each quilt and when it was likely made if that information wasn’t already known by the person who had brought it in. Other than the physical aspects of the quilts, the examiners also recorded each quilt’s history and any known information about the quiltmaker, how the materials had been sourced, why the quilt was made, and who had owned it throughout its history. Although the “anecdotes and stories” section of the form wasn’t always filled in, it’s an especially interesting source of information that can help us gain a better understanding of the lives of average Americans over time.
The documentation forms provide a wealth of information, but a picture is worth a thousand words, and it would be impossible to imagine the collection without pictures. The collection includes digital photos and color slides of every quilt that was analyzed. Each quilt that was brought to a documentation site was photographed at least three times. The first picture was of the entire quilt, the second was the quilt next to a color wheel, and the third was a close-up of a particularly interesting section of the quilt.
The Wyoming Quilt Project Records at the AHC also include details about other states’ quilt documentation projects, photo albums featuring the quilts and their identification numbers, oral history interview transcripts conducted with quiltmakers or their relatives, a poster board explaining the documentation process, and a quilted sign.
The Wyoming Quilt Project quilted sign. Box 13, Wyoming Quilt Project Records, 1994-2013, Coll. No. 12713, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Project’s Significance
If quilts are thought of as historical documents that can help us understand the past, it becomes clear why the Wyoming Quilt Project Records belong at the AHC. In so many ways, quilts help to reveal what life was like for people throughout history. They show the techniques that have been passed down through generations, what patterns were popular, what the people of the day were focused on celebrating, and what materials were available to them. Meyer shared that the documentation team discovered quilts with newspaper batting, quilts with other quilts used as batting, and quilt tops made from unique materials like sack cloth fabric, velvet, satin, and even campaign and commemorative ribbons. Meyer revealed that one quilt from the project that has stayed in her memory is a quilt that was made in Oklahoma during the Great Depression. The quilt top was made from tobacco sacks, and, according to Meyer, it “really brings to light what people did to ‘make do’ during the Depression.” This is an excellent example of how wider societal issues influence everyday activities like quilt making.
A photo album page that shows the front and back of Quilt 550. The quilt top is a crazy quilt, which was a popular style at the end of the nineteenth century. The quilt’s back is made up of tobacco flannels which were advertising materials sold with tobacco products during the early twentieth century. The exact date this particular quilt was made is unknown. This isn’t the Great Depression quilt Meyer was referring to, but it is another example of how crafty quiltmakers use the materials available to them. Box 25, Quilt 550, Wyoming Quilt Project Records, 1994-2013, Coll. No. 12713, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Quilts are also deeply personal to the people who own them. There are so many beautiful stories from the Wyoming Quilt Project Records that demonstrate why quilts matter—they hold cherished memories and connect people to their families and friends. One powerful example from the Wyoming Quilt Project Records was a quilt that was owned by a woman who had taught elementary school students for 31 years. As a retirement gift, the students teamed up with the school’s art teacher and each made a quilt block. The woman wrote that, “I put it together and it is one of my treasures. I will leave it, with love to my great grand daughter [sic], Jasmine, who is also a treasure.” This quilt represents her long and meaningful career and also demonstrates how quilts strengthen family connections.
Elementary students made these blocks and gifted them to their teacher when she retired after 31 years. Digital quilt pictures, Quilt 676, Wyoming Quilt Project Records, 1994-2013, Coll. No. 12713, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Quilts as History and Culture
Quilts are historical documents that can reveal valuable information about the past, but they are first and foremost pieces of culture that have lives to live outside of the archive. They need to keep people warm and cozy and help connect people to their families and communities. The dedicated women of the Wyoming Quilt Project who were quiltmakers and quilt-lovers themselves respected this fact and spent time and energy extracting the information from Wyoming’s quilts to be stored for future generations without separating the quilts from their cultural roles. They also taught the value of quilts and likely changed how a lot of people view the quilts in their own lives.
The Wyoming Quilt Project Records at the American Heritage Center put the spotlight on average people doing everyday activities, and this is what makes history. If you love quilts or are interested in exploring what they can tell us about our past, then visit the AHC and take a look at this collection. I only explored a fraction of the Wyoming Quilt Project Records and was able to learn so much! There are powerful stories about quilts from across Wyoming, and you might even learn something about your hometown or your own family history. At the very least, you can now look at the quilts around your house a little differently and start asking questions about where they came from, who made them, and how they got to you.
A special thanks to Tammy Au-France and Sonya Meyer for sharing their insights and memories about the Wyoming Quilt Project!
Post contributed by AHC Graduate Assistant Harper Pachel, a student in the University of Wyoming’s American Studies Program.
Explore Contemporary Wyoming Fiber Artists
Want to see how Wyoming’s quilting traditions continue today? Explore our exhibit “Thread by Thread: Fiber Arts in Wyoming” on Virmuze, which showcases the vibrant community of contemporary fiber artists across the state. From quilters like Kay Ferris creating stunning star quilts to Amy Phister working to preserve traditional techniques, discover how modern Wyoming artists carry forward the same spirit of creativity and craftsmanship documented in the Wyoming Quilt Project. The exhibit features beautiful photography and personal stories that reveal how quilting and other fiber arts remain vital parts of Wyoming communities, connecting generations through shared skills and passion for handmade textiles.
When Ava Olson first walked into the American Heritage Center’s reading room, she had no idea she was about to unearth a history that had remained largely untold for nearly a century. Today, we’re proud to announce Ava as the recipient of our 2025 Undergraduate Research Award for her groundbreaking paper, “St. Michael’s Mission: A Supposed Sanctuary.”
Ava Olson. Photo courtesy of Ava Olson.
Behind the picturesque circular layout of St. Michael’s Episcopal boarding school in Ethete, Wyoming – which operated from 1917 to 1956 – lay a troubling reality that Ava meticulously pieced together through primary sources in our collections
Diving Into the Archives: A Detective Story
Working under the guidance of Professor Samantha Vandermeade in a course on Wyoming, Race, and the Archive (itself developed through an AHC Teaching & Research Grant), Ava examined multiple collections to investigate the school’s complex history.
Yellowed letters in the Episcopal Church Diocese of Wyoming records revealed the school’s initial optimistic intentions. Faded blueprints showed how the buildings were deliberately arranged in a circular pattern inspired by Arapaho traditions.
But as Ava examined oral histories and administrative documents, a different narrative emerged. The documents revealed a story of contradiction: while St. Michael’s founders claimed to respect Indigenous culture and create a new model of education, the everyday practices mirrored the assimilationist policies seen across North America.
Bishop Nathaniel S. Thomas (1867-1937), founder of St. Michael’s Mission (1917) for Northern Arapaho students in Wyoming. As the “Indian Tuskegee,” St. Michael’s featured a circular layout inspired by Arapaho traditions while providing vocational training. Portrait from Samuel Hart, The House of Bishops, 1913. Courtesy HathiTrust. Public domain.
Records and oral histories documented how students had their hair cut upon arrival and were doused with kerosene. School policies enforced English-only rules in classrooms and dining halls, implemented military-style drills, and imposed punishments for speaking the native Arapaho language. The stark contrast between the school’s stated philosophy and its actual practices became evident through Ava’s careful analysis of these primary sources.
Arapaho students and instructors. The Rev. Sherman Coolidge (Arapaho Episcopal priest) stands at far left, while Rev. John Roberts (Episcopal missionary) sits at far right with hat on leg. Both men were instrumental in early Episcopal mission work with the Arapaho people, preceding St. Michael’s Mission in Ethete. Photo File: Indian – Tribe – Arapahoe, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Bringing Hidden Truths to Light
What makes Ava’s research so valuable is that it illuminates a significant blind spot in Wyoming’s historical record. As Professor Vandermeade noted in her nomination letter, “scholarly and/or secondary sources addressing St. Michael’s role in the forced assimilation of Indigenous children were almost nonexistent.”
By examining internal correspondence, photographs, and firsthand accounts, Ava revealed how this small Episcopal mission school participated in what is now recognized as a nationwide effort of cultural erasure. Her research shows how St. Michael’s, despite its intentions to be different, required students to conform to white Victorian standards of appearance, enforced English-speaking requirements, emphasized vocational training over academics, and maintained military-style routines and discipline.
Translation of the Lord’s Prayer into the Arapaho language, part of a larger effort to translate portions of the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. This work was prepared by Rev. John Roberts (1853-1949), who served as an Episcopal missionary on the Wind River Reservation for 69 years, in collaboration with Fremont Arthur (d. 1901), an Arapaho translator. Box 1, John Roberts papers, Coll. No. 37, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Power of Undergraduate Research
Ava’s achievement demonstrates why we’re passionate about getting primary sources into the hands of young researchers. With fresh perspectives and rigorous methodology, undergraduate scholars can challenge established narratives and recover histories that might otherwise remain buried in archival boxes.
The $500 award recognizes not just the excellence of Ava’s scholarship, but also her contribution to our understanding of this difficult chapter in Wyoming’s past. Her paper stands as a testament to how primary source research can illuminate complex historical truths and bring marginalized voices back into our collective memory.
The AHC extends our warmest congratulations to Ava on this well-deserved recognition. Her thorough research and thoughtful analysis exemplify the highest standards of undergraduate scholarship. We look forward to seeing where her academic journey takes her next. We also wish to express our sincere gratitude to Dr. Samantha Vandermeade for nominating Ava’s work and for her dedication to teaching archival research methods. By guiding students to explore challenging aspects of our shared history through primary sources, professors like Dr. Vandermeade help fulfill the AHC’s mission of enabling historical research and interpretation across disciplines.
The AHC Undergraduate Research Award will continue to recognize excellence in undergraduate research using our collections. We encourage all University of Wyoming faculty members to consider nominating outstanding student work for next year’s award.
These primary source materials—including photographs, documents, manuscripts, and more related to Wyoming’s Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone tribes—are available through digitized resources, online exhibits, and with assistance from Reference Department staff to help teachers educate students about the cultural heritage, history, and contributions of Wyoming’s tribal nations while supporting Wyoming Social Studies Standards.
For more information about using the Center’s resources, contact the AHC’s Reference Department at ahcref@uwyo.edu.
