The Engineering Building at the University of Wyoming, constructed in 1927, has been a cornerstone of technological education on campus for nearly a century. Originally housing both engineering and agricultural programs, the building reflects the university’s early focus on practical disciplines crucial to Wyoming’s economy. Over the years, it has undergone several expansions and renovations to accommodate the evolving needs of engineering education and research.
Architectural Inspiration
The original 1927 structure of the Engineering Building incorporates elements of Gothic Revival architecture, a style common in early 20th-century academic buildings. Its design is characterized by symmetry, featuring a central entrance flanked by two wings. The exterior is constructed from locally sourced sandstone. Large windows allow ample natural light to flood the interior spaces, while intricate stonework and decorative elements add to the building’s aesthetic appeal.
Side view of the Engineering Building not long after construction. Photo File: Colleges & Universities – UW – Building – Engineering.
One of the most intriguing features of the building is an inscription carved above the entrance. It reads: “Strive on – The Control of Nature is Won, Not Given.” This phrase caught the attention of author John McPhee during a visit to the campus. McPhee, known for his detailed explorations of the natural world and human attempts to control it, found the inscription particularly compelling. The idea that humanity could “control” nature, especially given Wyoming’s often harsh and unpredictable environment, struck him as both ambitious and perhaps hubristic. This concept became the seed for McPhee’s 1989 book The Control of Nature, in which he explores various human attempts to engineer solutions to natural challenges, from flood control on the Mississippi to volcanic eruptions in Iceland. The inscription, and by extension the Engineering Building itself, thus became a starting point for a broader examination of humanity’s relationship with the natural world.
Over time, the Engineering Building has expanded to meet the growing needs of the university. In 1959, the Petroleum Aeronautics wing was added, reflecting the increasing importance of these fields to Wyoming’s economy. A larger expansion followed in 1983, extending the building to the east and north. These additions allowed the facility to evolve alongside the advancing field of engineering, providing space for new technologies and growing student numbers while maintaining the original structure’s architectural integrity.
The 1931 Engineers’ Ball Incident
While the Engineering Building is known for serious academic pursuits, it’s also been adjacent to some colorful moments in university history. Take, for instance, the infamous Engineers’ Ball incident of 1931.
On a chilly December night, the annual Engineers’ Ball was in full swing at the nearby Half Acre Gym. Suddenly, who should appear but University President Arthur G. Crane, armed with a flashlight and a hefty dose of moral indignation. He was patrolling the parking areas surrounding the gym with a mission to catch students engaging in what he deemed “inappropriate behavior.” Imagine the scene: the university president, flashlight in hand, peering into parked cars and startling unsuspecting couples.
Dr. Arthur Crane was UW President from 1922 to 1941. He would go on to serve as Wyoming’s Secretary of State and Governor. Photo File: Crane, Arthur Griswold.
But Crane didn’t stop at just shining lights. He was overheard making a particularly spicy remark: “You come out here for all your drinking and petting. You ought to go to First Street where you belong.” For context, First Street was Laramie’s red-light district at the time.
The queen of the Engineer’s Ball and her court, with a few children added. Perhaps the students slipped out of the dance afterwards? We’ll never know. Box 17, Ludwig & Svenson Studio Photographs, Coll. No. 167.
Unsurprisingly, the students weren’t too thrilled with this midnight moral crusade. They responded with a two-day strike, turning the campus into a hotbed of protest. Crane, not one to back down, called in the police. By December 6, the strike fizzled out, but not without leaving its mark on campus lore. The aftermath? A “morals” committee, new campus policies, and even the hiring of traffic policemen to patrol the grounds.
Article from The Branding Iron, January 6, 1932, detailing the formation of a student-faculty committee to address concerns following the Engineers’ Ball incident.
Engineering Grads Who Made Their Mark
While the Engineers’ Ball incident adds a touch of levity to the building’s history, the Engineering Building has also nurtured individuals who’ve gone on to make significant impacts on the world stage:
W. Edwards Deming, class of 1921, revolutionized industrial practices and is known as the father of the Total Quality Movement.
Tom Osborne, class of 1957, designed the world’s first scientific desktop computer from his home in 1964, paving the way for the personal computing revolution.
General Samuel C. Phillips, class of 1942, directed NASA’s Apollo Manned Lunar Landing Program, playing a crucial role in humanity’s greatest adventure.
H. David Reed, class of 1964, was part of the mission control team that safely brought the Apollo 13 astronauts home, earning him the honor of having a lunar crater named after him.
Mike Sullivan, class of 1961, served as both Governor of Wyoming and U.S. Ambassador to Ireland, demonstrating that engineering skills can translate into leadership in various fields.
This 1957 graduate of Converse County HS would go on to serve as Wyoming Governor and U.S. Ambassador to Ireland. You guessed it. It’s Mike Sullivan. Photo from high school yearbook.
The Engineering Building Today
The 1927 Engineering Building remains an active part of UW’s engineering program, housing important facilities and contributing to teaching and research. Since its origins as the School of Mines in 1908, the College of Engineering & Physical Sciences has expanded beyond this single structure, with engineering activities now spread across multiple specialized buildings on campus.
As it nears its centennial, the building stands as both a historical landmark and a functioning part of UW’s engineering complex. Its evolution reflects the broader changes in engineering education, from serving as the primary home of UW’s engineering program to its current role within a larger, multifaceted engineering campus.
Discover More Campus Stories and Characters
From President Crane’s flashlight patrols to the famous graduates who walked these halls, the Engineering Building has seen its share of memorable moments. Want to explore more campus history and see how other UW buildings have their own colorful stories? Our virtual exhibit “Keeping History Alive: 136 Years of Progress” captures campus life through historic photos paired with current shots, showing how the university campus has evolved since 1887.
In the echoes of locomotive whistles and the steady rhythm of rolling steel, there lies a story often untold. From September 15 to October 15, we honor National Hispanic Heritage Month—a time to reflect on the deep and enduring contributions of Latina/o Americans to our nation’s history and culture. This year we share the voices of Latina/o employees from the Union Pacific Railroad. Their stories, preserved by the American Heritage Center, are a part of the ongoing “Life Between the Rails” oral history project—a project that seeks to document the contributions of those who have long toiled in the background.
Breaking Ground and New Tracks in the 1970s
The 1970s marked a turning point for Union Pacific. With the introduction of new anti-discrimination laws, the railroad diversified its workforce, opening the gates of opportunity to those previously relegated to the periphery. It was a time when Black, Indigenous, and other people of color began to take on roles previously dominated by others— as switchmen, brakemen, conductors, and engineers. These were not just jobs; they were pioneering positions that would pave the way for future generations.
Abe Madrid of Rawlins, Wyoming, was one of these pioneers. His career spanned various roles, from brakeman to engineer. In recounting his journey, Abe drew a stark contrast between his experience and that of his grandfather, Moses Vigil, who labored as part of a section crew responsible for track maintenance.
Back then (in the 1970s), they had just passed laws on discrimination. They said you had to hire so many minorities and so many women, so on and so forth, as trainmen. My grandfather, as a section man, they almost solely hired minorities because that was hard work. They were working on the tracks back then. They didn’t have a lot of the machinery and technology that they have now. They had to do a lot of that work by hand.
Abe Madrid. Photo courtesy of Tana Libolt.
The road to employment, however, was not a smooth track. Roy Sanchez, another voice from the project, remembers his attempts to join Union Pacific in 1965 and being denied the job he wanted. Roy applied many times over the next eight years, but the Trainmaster’s secretary in Laramie would tell him, “I’ll give you a job, but you’re going to be pounding spikes.”Determined, Roy continued to apply and, in 1973, became the first Latino Brakeman in Laramie, opening doors for many other Latina/o candidates who soon followed.
Roy Sanchez. Photo courtesy of Tana Libolt.
Abe Madrid also spoke about the discrimination he and other Latinas/os faced, even after Union Pacific put new rules in place to ensure fairer hiring practices. Abe described the “subtle bias” some encountered and shared a story about a railroader who found a way around it.
There was a gentleman that worked here, he was a minority, but he married a conductor’s daughter and he hired out ….probably 1965 or ’66. Well, I don’t know if I should say it or not, but he changed his name from Martinez to Martin and his father-in-law was a conductor, and he was able to hire out with the name Martin. I find that kind of comical in a way. He was a minority, but he changed his name so he could hire on the railroad.
Abe’s story is a poignant reminder of the lengths to which individuals would go to find their place on the rails.
Families Bound by Steel and Steam
For many, the railroad is more than just an employer; it is a legacy, a way of life passed down through generations. Debbie Martinez’s story is a testament to this legacy. Her grandfather, Steve Romero, spent his days riding the trains, fixing them on the go.
My grandfather was a railroader. He retired when I was born. He worked maintenance on the train, riding it to where it needed to go and fixing it along the way. Sometimes he would take us with him on the train to Salt Lake or Colorado.
Debbie Martinez. Photo courtesy of Tana Libolt.
Growing up in Rawlins, Debbie was surrounded by relatives and neighbors who worked for the railroad. The Southside area of Rawlins has long been home to many railroad families.
I used to see a lot of the men from Southside walking early in the morning and late at night with their bags, walking up the hill to go to work. My next-door neighbor was working in the depot as a ticket agent, and when I started on the railroad, he was one of the brakemen with me.
This family tradition was not unique; it was a common thread among many families in the Southside neighborhood of Rawlins, where the railroad was the lifeblood of the community. The Southside, predominantly home to Latino families, was more than just a place to live. “It was like a big family,” Abe Madrid reminisced. Many of the families in the Southside neighborhood originally came from the San Luis Valley in Colorado. An “advance party” traveled to Wyoming from the Valley, discovering well-paid jobs with the railroad. They were soon joined by their San Luis family and friends, and those families still share a neighborhood today.
Rick DeHerrera, another voice in the collection, grew up immersed in this culture. His father worked on a section crew stationed in Lookout, Wyoming, and the family later moved to Laramie. Rick’s uncles also worked for Union Pacific, and this familiarity with the railroad helped Rick secure a job on a panel gang in Laramie. Rick eventually moved into train and engine service, where he began to face discriminatory treatment from some members of management. Yet, despite the obstacles, his sense of community and shared purpose remained strong.
Rick DeHerrera. Photo courtesy of Austin Jackson.
Camaraderie and Collaboration
The stories from the “Life Between the Rails” project reveal more than the history of employment practices; it reveals the resilience of railroad workers. Those who worked on the rails did more than drive spikes or direct trains. They built bridges—literal and metaphorical—fostering a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect among the different crafts that kept the railroad running smoothly.
Abe Madrid, as an engineer, had a strong regard for the maintenance workers he collaborated with. His dedication to the safety of his colleagues did not go unnoticed, earning him the admiration of those who labored to keep the tracks in good repair. These are the quiet, uncelebrated moments that define the true spirit of the railroad community.
Preserving Voices for the Future
Through the “Life Between the Rails” project, the American Heritage Center is ensuring that these voices are not lost to time. Audio recordings, interview transcripts, photographs, and artifacts are being carefully archived, making these stories accessible to historians, researchers, and the public.
As we celebrate National Hispanic Heritage Month, we’re looking beyond the broad strokes of history to the individuals who made it. We recognize the men and women who, through their labor and resilience, laid down the tracks of progress, not just for themselves, but future generations.
Heartfelt thanks to the Union Pacific Foundation for funding the project and to all the participants who so generously shared their memories, knowledge, and insights.
To explore more about railroad history and the communities it created, visit the American Heritage Center’s virtual exhibits The Art of the Railroad and Hell on Wheels: Union Pacific Towns in Wyoming. These exhibits provide context for the railroad industry that employed generations of Latino families and the boom towns that became home to diverse communities of railroad workers.
Post contributed by Tana Libolt, Project Assistant for “Life Between the Rails.”
On September 1, 1988, Wyoming hosted BYU for what would be the 59th meeting between the teams, but this matchup was much more than a game against an old rival. This one required something extra special.
Two days before the Cowboys were set to play the Cougars on an historic night in Laramie, Kevin McKinney, the Sports Information Director for UW Intercollegiate Athletics, was still at work after sunset preparing for the big game against Wyoming’s old nemesis. His office, located adjacent to the north end of War Memorial Stadium, suddenly was flooded in bright light. That was the moment when he realized something special was about to happen.
He witnessed history come to light – literally. Wyoming was set to host its first ever football game at night.
Portable lights were installed, and that night, August 30, 1988, the technicians flipped the switch at dark and began adjusting the lights in preparation for the nationally televised game. When his office lit up, McKinney realized that was the first time War Memorial Stadium had ever been seen at night. As he stood up from his desk to look out his window toward the brightly lit stadium, he was overcome with emotions. “It felt surreal,” he recalled.
Members of the Western Thunder Marching Band prepare to perform in front of energetic Wyoming fans. University of Wyoming. Photo Service images, Coll. No. 514002, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
This was an era when television networks were expanding sports coverage by broadcasting night games. There was one problem. Many football stadiums across the nation, like War Memorial Stadium, did not have lighting. The quick solution was to use portable lights to provide temporary lighting at stadiums.
Several years earlier, ESPN began broadcasting Thursday night double-headers featuring an early game in the eastern half of the country and a later game in the West. In 1988, the season’s opening double-header occurred on September 1, and featured Boston College hosting the USC Trojans at 5:30 pm followed by the Wyoming Cowboys hosting archrival BYU at War Memorial Stadium with kickoff set for 8:40 pm local time.
Musco Lighting, a specialty stadium lighting company, was contracted to provide the lights. Crews worked for several days to set up the lights. Four banks of lights were set up – two sets on top of the press box and two sets of lights affixed to telescoping booms positioned at each end of the east side stadium. The 440,000 watts of electricity was provided by a large generator mounted on a semi-truck. Portable lighting could be achieved by using much brighter lights – 6,000 watts per light compared with the standard 1,500-watt lights typically used in stadiums. Using fewer lights simplified transport and setup. Technicians made final adjustments to each light on Wednesday night in preparation for Thursday’s game.
Fans would be treated to much more than a night-time football game. September 1 was dubbed Super Thursday. The UW campus hosted special events during the day. A picnic was held at Fraternity Mall. Pregame festivities continued into the evening, including plenty of tailgating. The Cowboy Joe Club hosted a barbeque in the stadium parking lot.
By 7 pm, the 29,000 fans began making their way into the stadium. At 8 pm, pregame ceremonies included fireworks and, at kickoff, more than 3,000 balloons were released into the night sky.
Fans enjoy fireworks show before the game. University of Wyoming. Photo Service images, Coll. No. 514002, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
At 8:40 pm, Wyoming hosted its first ever night game and its first ever nationally televised game. Though televised, many Wyoming fans still tuned to the radio for the play-by-play. Dave Walsh – the “Voice of the Cowboys” – and George Kay, who provided color commentary, were the radio commentators. “What a game; a night to remember,” Walsh recalled.
Wyoming came out on fire. Quarterback Randy Welniak ran for seventeen yards to score the first touchdown. The senior quarterback and his teammates never looked back. Welniak recalled of the game: “I remember running onto the field right before kick-off and the atmosphere in the stadium was absolutely electric.” He said it is the loudest game he remembers at War Memorial Stadium. He also said that “There was no doubt in our minds that we were going to win that game.”
#99, Defensive End Dave Edeen runs onto the field before the start of the game. University of Wyoming. Photo Service images, Coll. No. 514002, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Cowboy defense was relentless and punishing. BYU’s starting quarterback Sean Covey was knocked out of the game. He was replaced by Ty Detmer, who went on to become a Heisman Trophy winner. Wyoming’s stout defensive players Pat Rabold, Mike Schenbeck, Dave Edeen, and Willie Wright combined for nine sacks. The defense also intercepted four passes. The Cowboys defeated the Cougars 24-14.
#69 Pat Raybold sacks BYU quarterback Ty Detmer.Quarterback Randy Welniak hands the ball to Dabby Dawson.
Musco Lighting brought lights to War Memorial Stadium four more times. On November 10, 1990, Wyoming again hosted BYU for a nationally televised game on ESPN. Though the game started at 2 pm, it ended in the dark.
In 1999, two-night games were played in Laramie. Colorado State University came to town on October 23 for a 7 pm matchup televised on ESPN2. On November 13, BYU, ranked 15th in the nation, paid the Cowboys another night-time visit. The Cowboys beat the Cougars 31-17. The students stormed the field and tore down the goal post. One section of it was marched down Grand Avenue and ended up inside the Buckhorn Bar, where it was placed above the bar after rowdy Cowboy fans autographed it.
Musco Lighting showed up again in the spring of 2000. This time, the company came with permanent lights. As night games became more common in the conference, UW took steps to install permanent lights. The Trustees approved the approximately $450,000 project at its May 6, 1999, meeting, but the project did not commence until the following spring. The installation of permanent lights was completed on June 23, 2000.
The new lights were first used for Wyoming’s game against the Nevada Wolf Pack on September 23. Sadly, few fans witnessed the historic moment. An early season storm caused poor road and travel conditions. The highway between Laramie and Cheyenne, where the visiting team stayed the night before, was closed. The team was delayed when the bus could not get to Laramie due to a 12-car pileup near the Summit east of Laramie. The 7 pm kickoff was pushed to 8 pm. The Pokes also went cold, and before the start of the 4th Quarter, most of the 13,078 fans headed home.
Three years would pass before Wyoming would win a game under the lights. Though not a true night game, Wyoming yet again faced old rival BYU on October 18, 2003, at 4 pm. The second half of the game was played under the lights, and first-year head coach Joe Glenn led the Cowboys to a victory in front of an energetic Homecoming crowd of 22,797 fans.
On September 4, 2010, Wyoming opened the season against Southern Utah. The highlight featured the opening of the Wildcatter Stadium Club & Suites, that were built into the Upper East Deck. University of Wyoming Intercollegiate Athletics records, Coll. No. 515001, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Seven more years would pass before fans witnessed their first true night game victory under the permanent lights. On September 4, 2010, Wyoming opened the season against Southern Utah. Something even more historic occurred that night when the Wildcatter Club and Suites was unveiled. The Wildcatter features 12 luxury suites and 256 indoor club seats – a nice place to be on a cold winter night in Laramie. War Memorial Stadium was now 60 years old, but with upgraded scoreboards, sound systems, stadium lights, artificial turf, and the addition of luxury suites, the venue has remained popular with Cowboy fans. There have been many exciting games played in the stadium, some of them under the lights. As for the 1988 night game against BYU, this was a night to remember.
Post contributed by University of Wyoming Archivist and Historian John Waggener.
Picture this: It’s 1949, and a woman in a vibrant purple Victorian costume storms into a U.S. Steel shareholders meeting, demanding change. This wasn’t a historical reenactment gone wrong—it was Wilma Soss, making her theatrical debut in the world of corporate activism. Armed with an arsenal of costumes, props, and an unwavering determination, Soss would go on to revolutionize shareholder rights and challenge the male-dominated corporate world.
Wilma Porter Soss used her shareholder activism, her public relations skills, and her radio show to fight for the rights of small investors and women in the corporate world. She was not afraid to confront powerful executives and demand answers, accountability, and inclusion. Her papers at the American Heritage Center are a comprehensive source of information about her life, her work, and the movement she inspired.
She started out as a PR consultant for various clients, such as department stores, movie studios, and the silk industry. She also co-founded Federation of Women Shareholders in American Businesses, Inc., and the Municipal Bond Women’s Club of New York, which was the first organization of its kind to promote women’s involvement in the bond market. But her most memorable role was as a shareholder activist, who made headlines with her dramatic appearances at corporate meetings.
Wilma Soss dressed in a costume from the 1890s at the U.S. Steel stockholders meeting in Hoboken, New Jersey, 1949. Box 4, Wilma Soss papers, Coll. No. 10249, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Costumes and props used to make her points included a mop and pail, a safari hat, and a toy gun. She used the toy gun in 1954 to shoot a portrait of the president of the American Tobacco Company at a shareholder meeting to protest his refusal to answer her questions. The incident caused a sensation and made headlines across the country. She was not just a spectacle, but a force to be reckoned with.
Educating and empowering women financially was her mission. She recognized the numerous challenges and barriers women faced in the corporate world, and she fought to amplify their voices, increase their representation, and promote their financial independence. That’s why she used her shareholder activism and her radio program, “Pocketbook News,” to inspire women to take charge of their money. On her show, which aired on NBC radio from 1957 to 1980 and reached millions of listeners, she shared her insights and analysis on the latest economic news and how it affected small investors.
“Pocketbook News” fan mail written to Soss dated March 5, 1958. Box 3, Wilma Soss papers, Coll. No. 10249, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
She also interviewed experts and promoted financial literacy and shareholder rights. She wrote, read, and recorded the scripts herself, showcasing her skills and knowledge in public relations and economics. Her voice was distinctive and sometimes harsh, but her message was clear and compelling. Soss was a pioneer and a champion for women’s economic empowerment.
Yet Soss did not just fight for women’s rights, but for the rights of all shareholders. She challenged the corporate elites and demanded that they respect and listen to the individual investors who held stakes in their companies.
Article about Soss reprinted from Cosmopolitan magazine, April 1963. Box 3, Wilma Soss papers, Coll. No. 10249, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
She won the right for shareholders to attend and speak at corporate meetings, a practice that is now taken for granted. She also argued that having more women in corporate leadership was not only fair, but also beneficial for the shareholders and the society.
Soss’s papers at the American Heritage Center show how she made her case and how she framed her activism as a struggle for democracy and justice. Her work inspired and influenced other activists who followed her footsteps and combined social and economic causes to create change. Her papers also reveal her connections to other activists from different generations. She corresponded with leaders from the National Organization for Women (NOW) and the Interfaith Center for Corporate Responsibility, sharing her insights and experiences. These archival materials show how Soss bridged the gap between past and future activists, and how she impacted and shaped the shareholder activism movement.
Thanks to Brian Sarginger, 2020 recipient of the AHC Women in Public Life Fellowship, for his contributions to this post.
Ever wonder who gave Superman his Fortress of Solitude, or why kryptonite comes in so many colors? Meet Mortimer “Mort” Weisinger, the unsung architect of Superman’s expansive mythology during the Silver Age of Comics.
Mort Weisinger. Box 14, Mort Weisinger papers, Col. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Born in April 1915 in New York and raised in the Bronx by Austrian Jewish parents, Weisinger discovered science fiction and comics at age thirteen through an August 1928 issue of Amazing Stories. By 1930, at fifteen, Weisinger was an active member of some of the earliest science fiction fan clubs and fanzines, including The Planet. In 1931, he hosted a meeting of a pioneering sci-fi fan club, “The Scienceers,” attended by a young Julius Schwartz and other future notables of the science fiction world.
The Planet Vol 1, No. 2. Box 24, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In 1932, Weisinger, Schwartz, and Allen Glasser joined Forrest J. Ackerman in founding The Time Traveller, a fan magazine that grew out of “The Scienceers” fan club. Styled as “Science Fiction’s Only Fan Magazine,” it published interviews with and short pieces by established science fiction writers, allowing them to gain familiarity with the notable personalities of that era.
After high school, Mort attended New York University, where he became an active member and eventual editor of the college’s newspaper and magazine. However, he left before graduating. With Julius Schwartz, he approached T. Connor Sloane, the editor of Amazing Stories, and sold his first story titled “The Price of Peace.” In 1934, Weisinger proposed to Schwartz the idea of starting a literary agency, and they formed the Solar Sales Service, the first literary agency to specialize in science fiction, horror, and fantasy. The agency’s first client was Edmond Hamilton, known for Captain Future stories, followed by Otto Binder, Ray Bradbury, H.P. Lovecraft, and Stanley Weinbaum, among others.
Amazing Stories, August 1963. Box 48, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming
In the late 1930s, Weisinger left the agency to Schwartz and moved on to a job with Standard Magazine, a publisher of pulp magazines. Mort became the editor of Thrilling Wonder Stories and bought stories from his former partner, including stories by Hamilton. By 1940, he was editing a wide range of Standard pulps, including Startling Stories and Captain Future, eventually overseeing about 40 titles.
Wonder Stories, January 1935. Box 49, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
In 1941, he left Standard Magazines for National Periodicals, the early iteration of DC Comics, where he became the editor of the Superman and Batman titles. Among his early tasks was creating new characters, leading to the debut of Aquaman, Green Arrow, Johnny Quick, and Vigilante in More Fun Comics #73.
However, his career was interrupted in 1942 when he was conscripted into the Army, serving as a sergeant in Special Services. Stationed at Yale, Mort wrote scripts for an army radio show called “I Sustain the Wings.” He roomed with future notable actors William Holden and Broderick Crawford. During this time, Weisinger met Thelma Rudnick, whom he married on September 27, 1943.
First page of the script “I Sustain the Wings.” Box 33, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.)
After his discharge in 1946, Weisinger returned to National and resumed editing Superman and Batman comics. During his tenure, he introduced a wide variety of new concepts and supporting characters, such as Supergirl, Krypto the Superdog, the Legion of Superheroes, and various forms of kryptonite. He also attempted to rationalize Superman’s powers using real-world science and introduced the “imaginary story” gimmick for non-canonical what-if scenarios. He conceived DC’s first giant anthology, The Superman Annual.
Weisinger often talked to kids in his neighborhood about what they wanted to see in comics, leading to the creation of the Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen spin-off titles. He became known for reusing previously published stories as new story ideas, such as a 1950s story featuring Superman encountering an alien being he thought might have been his long-lost brother, which was reused in the early 1960s as a Superboy story introducing Mon-El.
Superman comic, November 10, 1943. Box 22, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.)
In the early 1950s, he was invited to California to work as a story editor for the Superman TV series. Weisinger worked with Superman actor George Reeves and influenced others, including Jackson Gillis, William Woolfolk, Jim Shooter, and Leigh Brackett.
Eventually, Mort focused solely on Superman, becoming the editor of all Superman titles from 1958 until his retirement in 1970. Known for his micromanagement style, he maintained tight internal continuity within the Superman comics, although they related little to the rest of the DC Universe. Upon his retirement, he was succeeded by his childhood friend and longtime colleague Julius Schwartz. Weisinger was later immortalized within the Superman comics with a bust in Clark Kent’s apartment in both artwork and storylines.
“I Flew with Superman” appeared in an October 1977 issue of Parade magazine. Box 48, Mort Weisinger papers, Col. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Weisinger didn’t limit himself to science fiction. He wrote freelance articles for various magazines, including Reader’s Digest, Collier’s, Parade, and The Saturday Evening Post. His topics ranged widely, from comics and the Comics Code to profiles of celebrities and beauty contests. His best-selling novel The Contest was inspired by his article for Parade on why certain finalists in the Miss America Pageant could never win the crown. He also authored 1001 Valuable Things You Can Get for Free, a compendium of freebies available to the public.
Cover of The Contest (1971) by Mort Weisinger. Box 37, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.Cover of the seventh edition of 1001 Valuable Things You Can Get for Free by Mort Weisinger. Box 38, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Mort Weisinger spent his life working in science fiction, a passion that began at thirteen and carried him through his career. He lived much of his life in New York and remained there until his death in 1978 from a heart attack. In 1985, he was posthumously named one of the honorees in DC Comics’ 50th anniversary publication, Fifty Who Made DC Great, for his long tenure as Superman editor and his expansion of the Superman mythology and universe.
Mort Weisinger, ca. 1975. Box 14, Mort Weisinger papers, Coll. No. 7958, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
Mort Weisinger’s legacy extends beyond the pages of comic books. His extensive personal and professional papers are housed at the American Heritage Center. This collection offers researchers and comic enthusiasts a unique window into Weisinger’s life, creative process, and his significant contributions to Superman’s mythology and the broader world of science fiction.
Post contributed by AHC Processing Archivist Brittany Heye.
In the complex landscape of 1920s American politics, the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan emerged as a significant, if geographically uneven, force. Even in Wyoming, far from the Klan’s southern roots, politicians found themselves navigating tricky waters when it came to the hooded order. One such politician was Frank C. Emerson, whose 1926 campaign for Wyoming governor provides a glimpse into the intricate political maneuvering of the era.
Wyoming Governor Frank Emerson, 1927. Ludwig & Svenson Studio Photographs, Coll. No. 167, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
The Klan that Emerson encountered was not the same organization that terrorized the post-Civil War South. This Second Ku Klux Klan, founded in 1915, had spread far beyond its original boundaries, establishing a presence in all 48 states and even internationally. With membership swelling to more than two million, this iteration broadened its targets to include Catholics, Jews, immigrants, and those associated with communism, alongside African Americans.
In Wyoming, the Klan exploited post-World War I anxieties, Prohibition, and fears of changing demographics to embed itself in communities across the state. By 1923, national Klan newspapers boasted of Wyoming’s extensive organization, claiming a Klan presence in every town of over 1,000 people.
That the Ku Klux Klan had infiltrated Wyoming is shown in this ad that appeared in the July 19, 1919, issue of the Casper Daily Tribune.
It was in this context that Frank C. Emerson, a Republican and former Wyoming State Engineer, entered the 1926 gubernatorial race. A letter found in Emerson’s papers at the American Heritage Center sheds light on his careful political calculus. Written by his associate J.A. Whiting on October 9, 1926, the letter recounts how Republican County Chairman L.E. Armstrong of Rawlins demanded that Emerson publicly denounce the Klan.
Whiting’s advice to Emerson is particularly telling: “Express to Mr. Armstrong a desire to meet any person and tell them individually the facts as regards your membership to that Order, but that you refuse to discuss the issue at the meeting.”
This carefully worded recommendation raises intriguing questions: Was Emerson trying to distance himself from the Klan, or was there a connection he was attempting to manage discreetly?
The letter also mentions T. Joe Cahill, a member of the Knights of Columbus – a Catholic organization often at odds with the anti-Catholic Klan. Surprisingly, Cahill advised against any public statement on the Klan issue, believing the campaign’s current strategy was effectively managing the situation without public declarations.
While this letter doesn’t provide definitive answers about Emerson’s relationship with the Klan, it offers valuable insights into the political calculations of the time. Other historical evidence held at the Wyoming State Archives suggests that Emerson may have had Klan sympathies or connections. A letter Emerson received that year from Frank Coulter, a known Klan member from Worland, hints at a potentially closer relationship with the organization.
The question of Klan affiliation wasn’t merely academic. In many parts of the country, Klan endorsement could make or break a campaign. However, open association with the group could also alienate other voters, particularly Catholics and minorities. Emerson’s apparent strategy of private assurances and public silence reflects the delicate balancing act many politicians of the era performed.
Emerson’s approach proved successful – he won the 1926 election and served as Wyoming’s 15th governor until his death in 1931. Yet the questions surrounding his relationship with the Klan persist, reflecting broader national debates about nativism, religion, and political influence that in many ways continue to this day.
Post contributed by AHC Archivist Leslie Waggener.
Judy Garland poses with a copy of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in a 1939 promotional still found in The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History (1989). Buddy Ebsen papers, Coll. No. 12733, American Heritage Center.
As a lifelong Oz fan, 1939’s The Wizard of Oz has been a throughline of positive memories for me. My parents called me “munchky” growing up, a nickname that would be apt when I made my stage debut as a Lullaby League munchkin in my school play at eight years old. My fondest memories of my late mother involve her reading L Frank Baum’s novel to me before bed. So, when I got to the AHC, I knew I had to sift through the historical material related to both Baum’s fantastical series and the 1939 classic film. And what better time to explore this story than the eve of the film’s 85th anniversary?
For kids like me who grew up with The Wizard of Oz as an American institution, it is hard to imagine that the film was anything but an overnight success, an immediate classic. But the truth is, there was no point during the film’s difficult production and unsuccessful release that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) thought their technicolor fantasy would become such a classic. Fortunately, much of Oz’s production has been documented in the AHC archives for us to explore now. Behind the film’s colorful beauty and joyful musical numbers are over a dozen screenwriters, four directors, multiple recasts, and several life-threatening on-set incidents. We’re off to learn the truth about the ruby slippers, green witches and wait…Gone with the Wind?
The Studio
I have often seen people discuss how horrific the production of The Wizard of Oz seemed. While most of the conspiracy theories about this film are simply not true, I will not downplay the horror that actually did play out on set. However, it is worth discussing the studio system at the time to provide some context for why production was the way it was. Which is to say, The Wizard of Oz was, unfortunately, not unique in having reckless production that did not care for its stars.
In the 1930s, movie studios operated with something called the “studio system.” This system contracted actors not to films, but rather to studios who assigned their actors to roles with very little input from the stars themselves. This meant that when MGM purchased the rights to The Wizard of Oz, they had to turn to their own 120 “featured contract players” for the casting. Contract players were paid well whether they were working on a picture or not, but at the expense of their freedom to accept or decline roles. Most of Oz’s actors had very little bargaining power with their bosses, be it for better pay, better safety measures or better treatment on set.
Hollywood was a very bleak place in 1938 when they were working on Oz. Filmmaking was, and still is, an extremely new artistic medium. This was less than ten years after the first ever Academy Awards, and studios were intent on trying to ensure that their films would be honored at the new ceremony. In the mid- to late 1930s most films were musicals so as to utilize the invention of “talkies,” or films with synchronized sound. Between the brewing tension of World War II and the Great Depression a decade earlier, films either directly reflected the anxieties of the time or tried to distract from them, but no studios were producing fantasy films.
That was until Walt Disney came on the scene with his first-ever feature length animated film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in 1937. Samuel Goldwyn almost immediately purchased rights to L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz to try to compete with Disney’s growing popularity. He enlisted Mervyn LeRoy to produce, Herman J. Mankiewicz to write, and Richard Thorpe to direct the picture. Yip Harburg, Harold Arlen and Herbert Stothart were working on music during this time as well.
The Wizard of Oz script written by Herman J. Mankiewicz. This script would not be used in the film; however, it is thrilling to see Oz through the eyes of one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. The Wizard of Oz scripts, 1938, Coll. No. 12780, American Heritage Center.
The Script
AHC writer Kathryn Billington did a deep dive into the multiple script treatments The Wizard of Oz received before the film was shot, so I will not go into it much here. The American Heritage Center is fortunate enough to own multiple copies of Oz scripts as written by Herman J. Mankiewicz and others such as Noel Langley. Mankiewicz was a contract writer for MGM, and he rarely received credit for his work at the studio. He was the first writer to be given The Wizard of Oz project.
Mankiewicz’s primary contribution would come in the form of the “Kansas sequence.” Baum’s original book spends just over seven hundred words in Kansas, but the Mankiewicz script spends a great deal of time there. MGM had also hired Noel Langley and Ogden Nash to work on their own versions of the script. In total, there would be ten screenwriters on The Wizard of Oz, with only three – Langley, Florence Ryerson and Edgar Allan Woolf – receiving credit for their work on the film. I would not feel too bad for Herman J. Mankiewicz for getting the chop though because later that year he would meet Orson Welles, with whom he would co-write Citizen Kane (1941), a film that is now universally praised as the greatest film ever made.
Creating the Yellow Brick Road
MGM finally had a full roster to bring Oz to life. In its principal cast, they had Judy Garland as Dorothy, and Buddy Ebsen, Ray Bolger, and Bert Lahr as the Tin Man, the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion, respectively. Billie Burke and Margaret Hamilton joined on as the witches of Oz. Casting was not easy as many of their original picks had turned the film down, like Shirley Temple who rejected the role of Dorothy and Gale Sondergaard who rejected the role of the Wicked Witch of the West. Sondergaard got all the way to the costuming stage, believing that the role would be a sexy, sly witch to emulate Snow White’s evil queen, but once they dressed her as the ugly witch we all remember, she backed out.
In fact, they had originally cast Ray Bolger to play the Tin Man and Buddy Ebsen to play the Scarecrow. Bolger, however, was unhappy with this casting, saying: “It wasn’t my cup of tea. I’m just not a tin performer. I’m fluid.” As a boy, he had seen Fred Stone’s portrayal of the original Scarecrow from the 1902 musical. Bolger says that seeing Stone perform live was life changing for him, inspiring him to become a stage performer. After several demands from Bolger, he and Ebsen switched parts. Ebsen did not protest; he did not care who he played, he just wanted to be in the picture. It is through Ebsen’s involvement that the AHC houses numerous Oz materials. His papers feature hundreds of pages of Oz items and several books he helped to advise about the film.
Richard Thorpe – 12 Days
Richard Thorpe broke ground on The Wizard of Oz on October 12, 1938. Thorpe was not known for his whimsy and fantastical directing. He was hired mostly because he reliably turned out quality work for MGM, but Oz was certainly a new frontier for him. Thorpe began with the third act of the film, with most of his footage being at the Witch’s castle. There is no remaining footage of Thorpe’s Oz, but there are some photographs. These images will look unfamiliar to most Oz fans. In Thorpe’s version, Judy Garland was put in a full face of heavy makeup and a long blonde wig.
Judy Garland in her first Dorothy Gale costume. She is wearing a long, blonde wig and red lipstick, a far cry from the Dorothy we all know today. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
Ten days into filming, Buddy Ebsen became extremely ill. To create the Tin Man’s shiny skin, they painted Ebsen’s face white and powdered over it with aluminum dust. Every time he got his makeup applied or touched up, he was inhaling fine grains of aluminum. This coated the inside of his lungs, stopping oxygen from getting to his blood.
Bert Lahr as the Lion (left), Buddy Ebsen as the Tin Man (center), and Ray Bolger as the Scarecrow (right) in a production still from the Witch’s Castle sequence. This is one of the few remaining images of Ebsen’s Tin Man. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
Little remains of Ebsen’s Tin Man. If you listen to the “We’re Off to See the Wizard” musical sequences in the film, you will hear his voice as the Tin Man, as they did not re-record it to cut costs. Ebsen would later star as Jed Clampett in The Beverly Hillbillies, a role that would make him a millionaire and solidify him as a household name.
Ebsen’s medical emergency brought production to a screeching halt. During this break, Mervyn LeRoy and other MGM executives watched the footage of the film so far and were enraged with what they saw. Now they had a Tin Man and a director to replace.
George Cukor – 4 Days
George Cukor was the director of The Wizard of Oz for just four days. They needed a director in the interim, and Cukor was great at character work. Specifically, he was great at working with actresses. Despite being on the film for just four days, he would have a major impact on the final film.
First, he took Judy Garland out of the blonde wig, instead using her natural reddish-brown hair for Dorothy. He then toned down her makeup, giving her instead simple eyebrows, blush and mascara. He would direct her to “stop acting so fancy shmancy” and to just act like a normal girl.
Judy Garland’s new Dorothy costume. In the four days Cukor was on set, he would redesign several costumes, but Garland’s is the most memorable. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
He also was able to get vaudeville comedian Jack Haley on loan from Fox to replace Ebsen’s Tin Man. Haley was told that Ebsen was ill, but not how or why. Haley was unaware of the makeup’s contents. But under Cukor’s direction, they mixed the aluminum with the white paint into a paste, so Haley would not inhale any of it.
Cukor left the set better than he had found it. He was off to work on another MGM picture based on a famous novel, Gone with the Wind.
Victor Fleming on set of The Wizard of Oz giving direction for the apple tree sequence. Fleming was a tough director but was at the helm for the bulk of its production. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
Victor Fleming – 4 months
Prior to The Wizard of Oz, Victor Fleming was known for films that were notably adult. The women were sexy, the men were masculine swashbucklers, and he had a very adventurous style of filmmaking. Fleming was also described as a womanizing, brute playboy according to Aljean Harmetz. Nothing would indicate that Fleming was the right director for The Wizard of Oz.
But that did not matter because the picture was already in production. Fleming did not have to tinker with costumes, the set, the script, or the casting in any significant way. (Although, strangely, Fleming insisted on the inclusion of a crane from the Los Angeles Zoo in several shots.) He made some insignificant changes to the script, and allowed Bolger, Haley and Lahr to improvise their lines.
He was, for the most part, a pretty forgiving director for most of the actors. Despite being sarcastic and ungentle, all of the principal cast had a positive relationship with Fleming until his death in 1949. This is probably because he did not direct their performances. Margaret Hamilton told Aljean Harmetz: “I think Mr. Fleming had a very good firm hand on things. Although I don’t have any consciousness of his changing anything really for any of us…If he did make changes, he did it so gracefully and so diplomatically that you didn’t even know it was being done.”
Even if the actors did not remember him as unkind, there are several instances of Fleming’s demanding behavior on set. Perhaps the most notable and upsetting is the treatment of Betty Danko, Margaret Hamilton’s stunt double. The Wicked Witch’s epic first entrance into the film resulted in injuries for both Hamilton and Danko. For Danko, a crew member fell into the trap door she was supposed to enter through, injuring her shoulder. Since she was injured, Hamilton had to finish the stunt herself. After delivering the iconic line, “I’ll get you my pretty! And your little dog too!” Hamilton was supposed to exit with flames and red smoke, just as she had entered. But because of the copper-based makeup she was wearing, her skin immediately lit on fire. She sustained second and third degree burns. Hamilton refused to film any further stunts.
Once Danko recovered, she shot the skywriting scene. Fleming insisted that the witch’s cape fly in the wind while writing “Surrender, Dorothy!” in the air, so the crew placed a pipe underneath the broom. While rehearsing, the pipe exploded from under Danko. She sustained deep burns to her inner thighs, and severely damaged her reproductive organs. Danko would need a full hysterectomy. In another instance, Victor Fleming slapped Judy Garland, who was just sixteen, across the face for laughing during a shoot.
After all of the Oz scenes were filmed, Fleming left the set to direct Gone with the Wind… Wait, wasn’t George Cukor working on Gone with the Wind? As it turns out, Gone with the Wind was also having a troubled production on the other end of the MGM lot. After three weeks of shooting, Clark Gable threatened to quit if Cukor was not replaced with his friend Victor Fleming. The most common reason cited was that Cukor, largely considered to be a “woman’s director,” was not giving Gable enough direction. Whatever the reason, Fleming jumped ship to complete Gone with the Wind.
King Vidor did not shoot much of the film, but what he did film was significant. Here Aunt Em (Clara Blandick, left), Miss Almira Gulch (Margaret Hamilton, center right) and Uncle Henry (Charley Grapewin, right) scold Dorothy for letting Toto bite Miss Gulch. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
King Vidor – 10 days
King Vidor knew he had to pick up direction on a picture already in production. Except he thought he was going to be taking over – surprise! – Gone with the Wind. He was relieved to learn that he would just be filming the Kansas sequences of The Wizard of Oz. Vidor was an incredibly talented filmmaker, but that does not exactly come through in the Kansas sequence as he had a pretty easy task to complete there. Aside from the tornado, which Vidor expertly shot using miniature mock-ups of the set and a windsock, he did not have to mess around with technicolor technology or the bulk of the actors’ performances. This simplicity was an asset though in the “Over the Rainbow”sequence. Vidor’s camera simply follows Garland around the farm while she sings the iconic tune. This scene was so simple that Fleming wanted to cut it during post-production because he thought it made the first act too long, but the studio insisted that Garland have a solo song.
Ultimately, Victor Fleming was the only director to get credit on the film.
The Wizard of Oz promotional poster from 1939. This poster hung above my bed in every bedroom I lived in before moving to Laramie, so finding it in the collection was quite the thrill. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
Release
The Wizard of Oz premiered at the Orpheum Theatre in Green Bay, Wisconsin, on August 10, 1939. The film opened nationwide a few weeks later to… mild reception. The film only earned $3 million dollars (about $70,000,000 today) upon its original release, just barely recouping $1.8 million in production costs. Fortunately, Gone with the Wind was a smash hit making approximately $3 billion in today’s dollars, making it the highest grossing film ever at the time. So, MGM was certainly not strapped for cash.
Fellow MGM child star Mickey Rooney (right) hands Judy Garland her Academy Juvenile Award. She won it for both The Wizard of Oz and Babes in Arms. Despite being nominated twice more in her career, this was Garland’s only Oscar. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
MGM believed that, while Oz was not a massive hit, they would surely get praise at the Academy Awards for the advances in makeup, technology and children’s entertainment. The 12th Academy Awards would be a historic night for MGM, but not quite for their work on Oz. The film was nominated for six awards, but only won three – Best Original Song for “Over the Rainbow,” Best Score and an honorary Juvenile Oscar for Judy Garland. Victor Fleming, who historically directed two films that year, did win Best Director after all, for (you guessed it!) Gone with the Wind, which was nominated for a record-setting thirteen awards, winning 10, including Best Picture. Notably, Hattie McDaniel became the first-ever Black Oscar winner for the role of Mammy in the film.
In the end, The Wizard of Oz was considered a critical and commercial failure.
Legacy
The Wizard of Oz would get a second chance at life when MGM sold its television rights to CBS in 1955, after the film was re-released. From 1956 to 1999, CBS would show the film once a year to homes across America. This became a tradition for many families, who would look forward to this screening every year. These annual showings were often paired with cast reunions, usually Bert Lahr, Margaret Hamilton and Ray Bolger, that would air alongside the telecast. These yearly viewings turned Oz from a modest failure to an overwhelming success. Oz is now featured on nearly every film reviewer’s “Greatest Movies of All Time” list, garnering praise for the music, performances and the technicolor technology.
Paper advertisement for CBS’s Ford Star Jubilee, the first televised broadcast of the film. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
The film successfully catapulted Judy Garland into superstar status. “Over the Rainbow” became sacred for her fans; a battle cry for the difficult life she lived. It was one of the last songs she performed before her untimely death at age 47 in 1969. Garland lived an extremely difficult life and, unfortunately, I do not have time to get into that in this post. What I can tell you is: Despite her many hardships, Judy Garland was also a loving mother, an activist and, in my opinion, the greatest performer who ever lived. Liza Minnelli, Garland’s daughter, has said many times that her mother did not want to be seen as a tragic figure, so I will honor that and refrain from making her one.
Ray Bolger and Judy Garland singing “If I Only Had a Brain” in 1963 when Bolger appeared on the short-lived The Judy Garland Show. The cast remained great friends, especially Bolger and Garland, who knew each other before the film and stayed close friends for 30 years after. From The Wizard of Oz: The Official 50th Anniversary Pictorial History.
The Wizard of Oz would gain fame elsewhere: in the gay community. Judy Garland was one of the few stars who not only accepted her gay audience but relished it. The Stonewall Riots happened the night of Garland’s funeral; many of the rioters were mourners. The phrase “friend of Dorothy” was a safe way for gay people to identify each other. The pride flag is, famously, a Rainbow. To learn more, Queer Oz by Tison Pugh explores the story’s significance to the gay community.
Further adaptations have been based not on Baum’s novel, but on this film. The Broadway musical by Stephen Schwarz and Winnie Holzman, and the novel by Gregory MacGuire, Wicked, tell the story of the witches of Oz before the events of the film. The first part of the film adaptation starring Ariana Grande as Glinda and Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba comes out in November of 2024. The opening credits of The Wizard of Oz, “…this story has given faithful service to the Young in Heart; and Time has been powerless to put its kindly philosophy out of fashion. To those of you who have been faithful to it in return … and to the Young in Heart … we dedicate this picture.” At 85 years old, The Wizard of Oz still electrifies audiences. No matter how you feel about this film, I hope this blog, and the American Heritage Center’s collections, can give you a greater appreciation for the film and its production as it celebrates this milestone anniversary.
Special thanks to Aljean Harmentz, for The Making of The Wizard of Oz, Oz historian Victoria Calamito (@theozvlog on social media) for her “Oz Myths Series,” which helped me source some material, and YouTuber Be Kind Rewind for providing me a clear guide for this research. I also used several Judy Garland biographies to inform this research: Get Happy by Gerald Clarke, Judy: Portrait of an American Legend by Thomas Watson and Bill Chapman, and Me and My Shadows by Judy’s daughter, Lorna Luft.
A posthumous thank you to the incomparable Buddy Ebsen, the first Tin Man, who, despite not appearing in the final film, provided ample material about the film and his life to the American Heritage Center.
And to my mother, for taking me to Oz for the very first time.
Post contributed by AHC Archives Aide Rhiannon Skye McLean.
Discover More About Buddy Ebsen’s Legacy
Want to learn more about Buddy Ebsen beyond his brief but significant role as the original Tin Man? Explore our online exhibit “The Entertaining Life of Buddy Ebsen” on Virmuze, which showcases the remarkable 70-year career of this versatile entertainer.
The Toppan Rare Book Library is inextricably linked to the legacies of members of the Toppan family: Frederick, Clara, and Eliza. Fred, a geologist, met Clara Raab when he and Eliza moved to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, in 1941. As a born and raised Wyomingite, Clara had already made a name for herself in Jackson Hole. Even though bank after bank had refused to help fund her business venture, Clara nevertheless opened her own accounting firm in 1945, and she managed the accounts of local bars in Jackson who came to trust and respect her extremely meticulous work. Fred and Clara married in Grand Teton National Park in 1949. The newlyweds moved into the Fish Creek ranch house where Clara developed a friendly relationship with her new mother-in-law, Eliza.
Clara Toppan endowed the Toppan Rare Book Library, and Fred’s library became the core of the library’s collection. From the Frederick and Clara Toppan Collection, American Heritage Center.
Eliza Pauline Willcox Toppan was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on November 4th, 1867, to Frederick and Harriet Harvey Willcox. She married Roland Worthington Toppan on June 11, 1900, and the couple moved into their home on Toppan’s Lane in Newburyport, Massachusetts. Their son, Fred, was born in 1902. A decade after Roland died in 1927, Eliza and Fred moved to Los Angeles where they stayed until their relocation to Jackson in the early ‘40s. With each move, Eliza’s books followed in tow.
Eliza Toppan as a young woman living in Philadelphia. From the Frederick and Clara Toppan Collection, American Heritage Center.
The extent of Eliza Toppan’s library was only fully realized in the last six months. Her collection of 34 cookbooks was originally loaned to the Toppan Library in 1995, but Eliza owned many more books. In fact, Clara spoke of her mother-in-law as someone who was just “as well read as Fred was.” While Clara knew of Eliza’s cookbooks, she may not have necessarily known just how many more were dispersed on Fred’s bookshelves. Eliza’s library entered the Toppan collection fragmentally, arriving mixed in with Fred’s books between 1979 and 2002.
During her young adulthood, married life, and after, Eliza collected various types of books as her interests and personality developed. One of the first aspects of her library that one admires is its beauty. From the gilt edges and tool work to the illustrated cover designs, many of the volumes are works of art. In most of them, Eliza signed her name. She was a cook, gardener, dressmaker, lover of poetry, mystic and self-improvement advocate, and Christian Scientist. Eliza’s manuals on gardening are the focus here.
Eliza Toppan loved collecting books as much as reading them. She curated a library that clearly exhibited her personality and spoke of her passions and interests. From the Frederick and Clara Toppan Collection, American Heritage Center.
With the Industrial Revolution came carefully defined thresholds between men’s and women’s spheres and the growth of the middle- and upper-class, suburban lifestyle. Gardens and gardening are tied up within this social shift. Since cities were coated in layers of soot from factories, color and the sight of anything living were welcome changes of scenery. Gardening and botany were considered acceptable endeavors for women in the domestic sphere. At the same time, historians argue that horticulture manuals often emphasized the economic possibilities that gardening provided, pushing against the “separate sphere” ideology and granting women a chance to operate independently within the public realm at markets and in horticulture societies. Departing from the Victorian aesthetics of the late 19th century, women gardeners were more interested in the “cottage-style” garden that celebrated hardy, heirloom perennials, required abundant patience, and rejected the bedded out, neat rows of greenhouse annuals.
While the majority of Eliza Toppan’s gardening book collection consists of texts by professional women gardeners, nonetheless the notable horticulturist Liberty Hyde Bailey is represented. L. H. Bailey, Manual of Gardening, Call No. SB453 .B3 1910, Toppan Rare Book Library.
Eliza Toppan’s collection of gardening texts exhibits these facets of the late 19th and early 20th century garden aesthetic. They are written and illustrated by women as practical manuals for the cultivation of a utilitarian garden. Represented the most in the collection is Helena Rutherfurd Ely (1858-1920) with two of her texts, A Woman’s Hardy Garden (1903) and The Practical Flower Garden (1911). The former filled a need in the gardening knowledge base that emphasized women’s preference for the native garden full of hardy perennials. Ely popularized flowers like delphinium and columbine, and a species of dahlia was named after her.
Helena Rutherfurd Ely, A Woman’s Hardy Garden, Call No. SB454 .E48 1903, Toppan Rare Book Library.
Also present are practical works by professional gardener and horticulturist Mabel Cabot Sedgewick (1873-1937), nature writer and plant activist Mabel Osgood Wright (1859-1934), Helen Ashe Hays, Ida D. Bennett (1860-1925), and Martha Bockee Flint (1841-1900). Flint’s A Garden of Simples (1900) is a guide to growing and using medicinal herbs that covers the history of these plants, how to cultivate them, and how to concoct tinctures and teas to treat various medical conditions.
Mabel Osgood Wright, The Garden You and I, Call No. SB455 .W8 1906, Toppan Rare Book Library.Ida D. Bennett, The Flower Garden, Call No. SB405 .B47 1903, Toppan Rare Book Library.
Eliza’s book collection is underscored by its beauty, and her gardening books are some of the best examples. Frances Theodora Parsons’ (1861-1952) How to Know the Ferns was a wild success when it came out in 1893. It features illustrations by Elsie Louise Shaw and Marion Satterlee and a cover design of green leafy stalks and gold tooled lettering created by Margaret Armstrong (1867-1944) who transformed the male-dominated field of book cover design in the 1890s with her colorful, individualized, and often botanical creations.
Frances Theodora Parsons, How to Know the Ferns, Call No. QK525 .P26 1899, Toppan Rare Book Library.
Eliza Toppan collected books on subjects and activities that suburban women most often took part in during the early 20th century, but she also departed from the constraints put on women in her own way by specifically seeking out works by women and following the gardening aesthetic put forward and popularized by them.
Post contributed by Toppan Rare Book Library Archives Specialist Emma Comstock.
References
Bilston, Sarah. “Queens of the Garden: Victorian Women Gardeners and the Rise of the Gardening Advice Text.” Victorian Literature and Culture 36, no. 1 (2008): 1-19.
Moore, Glenn. “’A Very Housewifely Ambition’: Women Gardeners in Industrializing America.” Australasian Journal of American Studies 20 no. 1 (2001): 18-30.
In the wake of World War II, Wyoming found itself at the forefront of a new mineral rush – uranium. This development would add another chapter to the state’s boom-and-bust legacy in mineral extraction, joining the ranks of earlier oil booms and foreshadowing the coal boom of the 1970s. From 1945 to the early 1990s, Wyoming’s uranium industry rode its own wave of highs and lows, playing a crucial role in America’s nuclear ambitions. My journey to unravel this complex story began in the summer of 2023 at the American Heritage Center.
Patrick Enderle, recipient of 2024 AHC Undergraduate Research Award. Photo courtesy of Patrick Enderle.
As a recipient of the Chet Meeks Memorial Scholarship from the University of Wyoming’s Department of Criminal Justice and Sociology, I began an intensive research project under the guidance of Dr. Dan Auerbach. Our goal was to analyze the structures that influenced Wyoming’s uranium mining industry over nearly five decades. I spent around 180 hours sifting through newspaper clippings, field reports, memorandums, correspondence between elected officials, government reports, transcripts from committee meetings, and much more.
Wyoming played an important part in the national effort to develop nuclear power for military and energy production purposes. In our research, we wanted to learn more about how Wyoming contributed to these efforts and how the state’s uranium industry developed in the manner that it did. Also, we wanted to know how the industry impacted the state’s residents and environment. As sociologists, we were less interested that Wyoming became one of the top uranium producers in the country, and more interested in the conditions that allowed this change to occur.
A map of the uranium mining sites in the Gas Hills region from 1957. This region is situated in Fremont and Natrona counties, approximately 45-50 miles east of Riverton. Folder 3, Box 76, Edwin Keith Thomson papers, Coll. No. 9904, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
One aspect of archival research I noticed early on—perhaps obvious to anyone who has spent time in an archive—is that you never can predict exactly what you will come across or how meaningful it will be to your research. This can be both frustrating and rewarding, as the relative unknown of what a collection contains can bring you hope which sustains you after going hours without finding something relevant. It was also easy to find materials that were interesting in their own right but were not related to the uranium industry in Wyoming.
A difficulty in researching Wyoming’s uranium industry is the immense amount of change that occurred in only a few decades. Companies often changed names or merged with another company. Sometimes, the responsibilities of federal agencies shifted, causing confusion on which agency had authority over what, such as monitoring or setting standards.
Other times, the normal flux within political offices, coupled with economic conditions, caused administrations and agencies to shift priorities. Further, once the government and public began to understand the potential harms from radiation exposure, the uranium industry was influenced by a growing concern over the impact that uranium mining and milling had on the environment and public health.
I wrote about my initial findings in a paper, “A Brief Analysis of Three Structures of Uranium Mining in Wyoming,” which I still find aptly named, because there was no way to fully distill decades of interactions within complex local, national, and global settings in just five thousand words.
In my analysis, I found that three structures—the government, industry, and public—interacted to influence the trajectory of Wyoming’s uranium industry. While each structure adapted to the development of nuclear technology and relative unknowns associated with mining and milling uranium, they also helped dictate the direction of the uranium industry. In short, the evolution of the uranium industry in Wyoming was not controlled by one structure, but rather, was transformed through the tension between the three structures that had unique consequences.
The government struggled with uncertainty, often reacting slowly to the unknown health and environmental impacts of uranium mining. The industry skillfully emphasized its economic importance and leveraged Cold War concerns to resist regulation. Public opinion evolved from initial support based on economic promise to growing environmental concerns by the 1970s, with local organizations actively challenging industry practices.
The front page of an article in Congressional Quarterly, published in 1978, on the problems caused by uranium mill tailings, or waste created by separating uranium from ore. At the time, Wyoming had two inactive mill sites that contained almost 1.1 million tons of tailings. Box 133, Malcolm Wallop papers, Coll. No. 8011, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.
As I wrap up my reflections on my AHC research, I feel a sense of awe at the complex story that unfolded before me. The history of Wyoming’s uranium industry is a powerful reminder of how government, industry, and public interests can collide and intertwine when new technologies emerge, often with far-reaching and unforeseen consequences. By investigating the challenges faced by regulators, the influence of economic factors, and the evolution of public opinion, perhaps we can uncover valuable lessons that can guide us in making more informed and responsible decisions in the future.
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to spend many hours in the archive and for the support of the staff at the American Heritage Center—it’s a special place.
Post contributed by Patrick Enderle, recipient of the 2024 AHC Undergraduate Research Award.
Today, the American Heritage Center highlights Richard and Robert Sherman, in honor of Richard M. Sherman, who passed away earlier this year at age 95. The Center is honored to hold the papers of the brothers documenting a portion of their careers.
The Sherman brothers were an American songwriting pair who specialized in musical films, predominantly for Disney. Sons of Russian-Jewish immigrants, the brothers began writing songs together in the 1950s, following in the footsteps of their father, songwriter Al Sherman.
In the 1960s, the brothers caught the attention of Walt Disney, who hired them as staff song writers for Walt Disney Studios. In Disney’s employ, Richard and Robert wrote more motion-picture musical scores than any other songwriters. Their best-known song was written for the 1964 New York World’s Fair, titled “It’s a Small World (After All),” which has since become the most translated and performed song on earth, and boasts a ride of the same name at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom Park.
In 1965, the Sherman Brothers’ musical magic for Mary Poppins earned them two Academy Awards. Their enchanting score included the tender “Feed the Birds,” the whimsical tongue-twister “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” and the catchy “Chim Chim Cher-ee,” which swept up its own Oscar for Best Original Song.
Robert and Richard worked directly for Walt on several live-action musical films, until his death in 1966. Over the course of their career with Disney, they composed more than 200 songs for 27 films and 24 television productions.
In 1968, they received their first non-Disney assignment, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for United Artists which earned them their third Academy Award nomination. Returning to Disney briefly in the 1970s, the brothers worked on a few other films, including Bedknobs and Broomsticks, which they received a Grammy nomination for.
Other notable credits for the brothers include The Jungle Book (1967), The Parent Trap (1961, 1998), Charlotte’s Web (1973), The Aristocats (1970), The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977), and Over Here! (1974).
In 1976, Richard and Robert’s work was showcased in The Slipper and the Rose, which was picked to be the Royal Command Performance of the year and attended by Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. The film earned them two more Academy Award nominations. In the same year, the duo was also awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. In the videos below, the brother discussed their working on The Slipper and the Rose.
In 2000, they again returned to Disney to write the score for The Tigger Movie which marked their first film for the company in twenty-eight years and their final film credit as a duo before Robert’s death in 2012. In 2005, they were inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and in 2008 they received the National Medal of Arts, presented to them by President George W. Bush.
Richard and Robert’s sons directed and produced a critically acclaimed documentary film about the duo distributed by Walt Disney Pictures. The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story (preview below) was released in May 2009, and followed later that year by The Sherman Brothers Song Book released by Disney – a 59-track, two CD compilation of the work they produced for the studio spanning over forty years.
In March 2010, the brothers received one of the greatest and most coveted honors bestowed by the Disney company: a window on Main Street, USA, at Disneyland in California. This specialized window, which reads “Two Brothers Tunemakers” with their names inscribed underneath, was awarded in recognition of their significant contributions to Disney.
In the early 2000s, Robert Sherman moved to London, while Richard stayed in California. Robert died in London in March 2012 at age 86. Richard Sherman lived for another twelve years in California, passing away recently on May 25, 2024.
The American Heritage Center collection contains the brothers’ work for six motion pictures, including The Jungle Book, Winnie the Pooh, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Included are music scores, notes, research materials, scripts, vinyl recordings, and songbooks.
Post contributed by AHC Processing Archivist Brittany Heye.
