Our wandering child ... returns

@SWEETBABYJESUSOFMSMC is home from London and reappeared in the flesh (well, plaster) in a cloud of pink bubble wrap with a very nice apology. All is forgiven. The welcome home picture is over at Instagram, http://instagram.com/p/VHbOP5CX8Y/.

Our wandering child

Come back, Baby Jesus!

THE CHALON LIBRARY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS went up on December 3, and no sooner was the Creche scene complete than Baby Jesus disappeared.  In the spot where the manger had been were his heartbroken parents and an empty patch of straw.

A couple days later, our colleague Cheryl Ocampo pointed out that Baby Jesus was making the rounds of the Chalon Campus, and you could follow him on Instagram, the smartphone social media app, with the handle @sweetbabyjesusofmsmc.

Hello from London.

If you want to find somebody in social media, you have to be there yourself, obviously. So we signed up for Instagram (@MSMCArchives) just in time to see the Christ Child take off for London on Christmas Day (captioned, of course, "Happy Birthday to me").

Well, two can play this game. Hoping eventually to reunite the ceramic Holy Family in the library Creche, we started posting some pleas on Instagram from the Virgin Mary for her Baby to come home.  A week ago, we finally heard from @sweetbabyjesusofmsmc: "Relaaaax....I'm having fun. and I will be back."

At this point we're starting to think that Baby Jesus is channeling his inner teenager.

Getting closer... down the hill.

Classes resumed today and Baby Jesus is indeed back... somewhere.  Instagram has SweetBabyJesusOfMSMC posing in the O of Joseph on the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet sign down the hill.  But he hasn't made his reappearance in the library. As of an hour ago, Mary and Joseph were still waiting for their wandering child.

In archives terminology, by the way, this is called "replevin," which means getting your stuff back that was taken wrongly or illegally. Call this "social replevin." We can't wait to hear about the London trip.

The Easter Bunny, 1951

WE MAY BE A CATHOLIC COLLEGE, but the Easter Bunny sometimes plays as big a role here as anywhere else.

Mr. Bunny was front and center on March 9, 1951, when a few fraternity pranksters (thought to be from the Mount's brother school, Loyola University) "borrowed" the 10-foot, 300-pound plaster statue from in front of a store on fashionable Wilshire Boulevard and hauled him up to the Chalon Campus in the early hours of the morning.

Students arrived to see a giant rabbit in top hat and tails by the flagpole in the Circle. Police were duly alerted, and the investigating officers posed with the "hot" rabbit and a couple dozen smiling Mounties. The wandering bunny was then returned to his rightful home.

Our occasional pen-pal Beverly Halpin Carrigan '52 remembers this incident well. She reminds us that it was the year after the movie Harvey came out (in which Jimmy Stewart's best friend is a 6'3" invisible rabbit), and theaters featured giant rabbits in their lobbies.

So this Easter Bunny wasn't the only oversized, overdressed rabbit with a starring role that year. A happy, blessed Easter to all!

Postscript: Read about the missing Loyola Lion a few weeks later.

Spirit (and hijinks) of holidays past

Front page of the campus paper, The View, December 17, 1946.

AS THE CHALON CAMPUS closes for the holidays, I thought we'd wish everyone a Merry Christmas and farewell to 2011 with a look back at The View, the campus newspaper that published its first edition in April, 1945.

First, some verse from the first Christmas edition, the winner of the 1945 Christmas Poem Contest (Vol. I, No. 8, December 13, 1945, p. 3):

Soliliquy [sic] of the Ox

The king of beasts strides in the tall brown grass,

And sees the stealthy, slithering cobra pass;

The sheepdog on the hillside in the night

Watches the browsing flocks all fleecy white.

Many creatures of the Lord, I know,

Have features finer than I can show,

But with no other would I change my place

For I have seen the Christ-Child, face to face.

--Marjorie O'Hanlon '49

The picture above is the front page of second Christmas edition of The View, Vol. II, No. 9, December 17, 1946. Even then the Mount was proud of its diversity, publishing a roundup of short articles by its international students about Christmas traditions in their home countries -- Mexico, Japan, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, El Salvador. The illustration is by student Barbara Lichtenberg '47.

And lest we think The View was all piety and poetry, there's an article in the 1945 Christmas edition about four Mount reporters chasing down the local movie stars. "View Attempts to Visit Van" describes their mad rush to follow Van Johnson in his blue sports car to the home of fellow star Keenan Wynn on nearby Saltair Avenue, where the two actors were rehearsing a Christmas program for the U.S. Navy. They tried and failed to talk their way past Wynn's maid, but, nothing daunted, they decided instead to stalk handsome Peter Lawford the following weekend.

Hijinks at the holidays! A blessed Christmas and Happy New Year, everybody -- see you here in 2012.

Rose Alice Wills, Class of 1931

Found a tiny photo of who I think is Rose Alice in the 1931 graduation program. The 15 graduates are listed in alphabetical order and their photos appear in the same order on the next page. The original is about an inch wide.

Our Rosie was one of the most distinguished graduates of the Mount's very distinguished Music Department, chairing the Santa Monica City College music program for many years. For the 70th anniversary of the Mount in 1995, well in her 80s, she contributed this reminiscence:

I was one of the few students with a car, and the Sisters were always asking me to take them up to what they called "the site." The upholstery on the front seat was a little dilapidated, and one time a Sister got her rosary caught in the springs and we couldn't get her unhooked...

I remember driving up on a beautiful day in 1929, and we sat on some lumber and had a picnic. There was nothing up there but a big hole, and some sawdust. If my car stalled going up the hill, we'd get out and push. Going down, I'd just turn the motor off and slide, kicking up dust all the way to Sunset."

That sounds like a fun-loving Mountie of the early 1930s. Someone crazy enough to roar down the mountain on a dirt road in neutral might just be someone who'd come back to leave a "memento" and cement-crusted beer can in the basement. I'm glad to make her acquaintance!

And who knows... Picnics at the 1929 construction site -- the "big hole" -- would sure explain how milk bottles and other relics ended up buried in the basement.

Aren't archives cool?

Rosie revealed

The saga of the milk bottle began a few days ago with the visit of two old friends of Rose Alice Wills Smith '31, who had told them about a "memento" she'd left behind "in the basement" at the Mount. The basement had to be Brady Hall's, and our intrepid archaeology sleuth John Deeb set out to try to discover what she was referring to.

The excitement over the milk bottle had hardly subsided when John showed up unannounced in the Archives with a big smirk on his face and this handsome artifact. Rosie's memento.

He came across it in a narrow gap near what might have been a coal chute in the 1930s. John managed to squeeze into the passageway and noticed the blob of cement some distance up the wall with the magic word "Rosie." It was hard to get a good look at it and even harder to take a picture, so he somewhat reluctantly pried it off and brought it to the Archives.

Besides "Rosie" and "1940" it seems to have "Jun '31," which would have been when Rose Alice graduated. But 1940? Did she come back 9 years later to leave her memento? And where did she get the wet cement?

Don't we love the way one mystery is solved, only to reveal another?

Message in a bottle: postscript

We don't need a glass expert - we have John Deeb! He reported this little factoid:

I was able to identify the manufacturer of our milk bottle. It was made by the Illinois Pacific Glass Co. and was either made in 1917 or 1927, as indicated by the single number 7 next to the logo. In the 1930s they used two-digit date stamps. So... I'd be willing to bet the bottle was made in 1927, shipped to a dairy sometime after that and made its way to our basement in the early '30s.

John ("now that I'm an amateur archaeologist") mentioned that some years ago he found a 1950s-era vodka bottle in an area that was once a rubbish heap near the CSJs' convent. The area is now a shrine. That's another fun one to muse on -- how did it get there? (And who consumed the contents?)

The larger point, though, is something I tell my San Jose State library students: Given enough passage of time, virtually anything will become valuable. That makes preservation decision making interesting, because you can see the easy argument for trying to keep virtually everything. We all know people who do this. Lone Arrangers know better.

Message in a bottle

There's a Greek word, synechdoche, that refers to the way an ordinary object calls to mind a much bigger picture.

I'll risk semantic impurity here to talk about a synecdoche that yesterday was pulled out of the dirt underneath Brady Hall.

That object is a one-pint bottle of thick glass with a logo featuring a big M and the letters SCDA. It was removed from some exposed dirt in the basement of our beautiful Brady Hall by John Deeb, our assistant director of facilities (who took this picture). Of course, he was down there looking for something else. But as always in archives, we find interesting things when we aren't looking for them.

John thinks it might be a milk or cream bottle. It would take a glass expert to identify its provenance, but let's assume it dates from the early 1930s when Brady Hall was first built and occupied.

What bigger picture does an old pint bottle suggest? For one thing, how did it get there? Until 1939, Mount St. Mary's College was one lonely building atop a steep hill with little more than truck farms between it and Santa Monica. In those days before refrigerated trucks, that little bottle had to travel up two miles of winding dirt road – it wasn’t paved until about 1932. Was there milk delivery or did the Sisters have to buy it down the hill?

Or did a worker bring it in his lunch? Brady went up in 1930 just as the Depression was settling in. An especially wet winter mobilized the fractured slate and shale on the hilltop and cost extra time, worry and money in the midst of construction. There were delays, problems with one of the architects. Did the workers lose pay while they waited this out? Was that bottle of milk "dear," as they used to say?

Or did it come from the Mount kitchen? The whole student body in 1931 numbered fewer than 75 (top photo), but we know students in any era eat enough for an army. We can imagine the Sisters' little truck struggling up Bundy Drive weighted down with groceries. Did a hungry student sneak the bottle from the kitchen and then dispose of the evidence?

The Mount in the early 1930s was a special place to be sure.

I mentioned that John was looking for something else when he came across the bottle yesterday. I had welcomed two visitors to the College Archives who arrived unannounced and on a mission. Many years ago they had befriended Rose Alice Wills Smith '31, who passed away in 2009 in her 90s. Rose Alice, they said, loved to talk about the Mount and spoke often of some "mementos" that the Class of 1931 left behind "in the basement." The two men were curious to see them. Would the mementos be in the archives?

In 1931 there was only one basement – Brady’s – but I’d never heard of any artifacts being preserved. I pinged John, who expressed his doubts. He emailed me that the basements had been in constant use and as far as he knew, nothing of interest was ever found. But added that there were a couple places that were "rather remote" and might yield something. A short while later after a bit of digging (literally) he produced the little bottle. After that stroke of luck, he said hopes to keep digging (figuratively and literally) as time permits.

It's doubtful that the mysterious “mementos” spoken of by Rose Alice would include litter, but in a sense the bottle is a memento of those early days just the same. It's often true in archives and preservation that mundane objects prove more interesting than “important” stuff for what they tell us about daily life in a bygone time -- that's the idea behind a synechdoche.

It's fun to think about a famished coed in her navy-blue uniform, surreptitiously sipping from a bottle of milk, high above and far away from the world. Like I said, it's a special place.