Recent adventures in cataloging

A Rubbermaid tote crammed full of photographs has served as my focus at the museum for the past several weeks. The tote had a note on the lid describing the contents as "logging photos" but it turned out to be a mix. There were definitely logging photos, most of which were of course not labeled. There were mill photos, which is what I think the one above is (there is a sizable chimney lurking in the background, which implies a steam boiler, which in turns implies saws). 

It is a intriguing photo on multiple levels. First, the mystery of when -- what year is it from? Where? Why are there children in the photo? Surely those little barefoot urchins weren't child labor in a sawmill. I know really young kids wound up working in textile mills in the 19th century, but it seems a bit much to put shoeless 5-year-olds to work at a lumber mill. And who's the dude sitting in front with the woman and girls to one side and the little boys to the other? My first thought was "manager," but he's got a star on his vest. Did the local constable or sheriff also own a sawmill? It's all a bit strange. 

On another level, of course, it is a totally typical 19th century photograph. The photographer was not taking casual snapshots. The large format cameras with the glass plates meant you didn't mess around with multiple exposures or splitting people up into smaller groups; managers and owners packed everyone and everything into one shot and then purchased multiple prints to give to the workers as well as investors or co-owners. Large groups of workers tell investors the mill is doing well -- look at how many employees we have to have. You work at the mill? The photographer is coming? You ask the boss if your kids can be in the picture, too, because it might be your only chance to get a photo of them. You include tools (two of the workers are holding cant hooks). If there's a way to do it, you include the horses. This photo doesn't have any of the horse teams that would have been used at a typical 19th century mill, but there is a dog. Does the dog count?

Other photos in the tote included color snapshots from the 1990s, some of which actually had labels, family portraits and wedding photos from the early 20th century, logging camp photos, woods work photos, fishing and hunting snapshots, and photos (mostly snapshots) of local businesses. This was my favorite fishing photo of the half dozen or so I scanned. Apparently fly fishermen did not look like walking advertisements for Orvis back in the 1920s. I don't know who Fred was, but he fished in style. 

Some were mysteries of another sort. Like the photo below. It's obvious what it is -- work on what looks like a sewer line in the Village of Baraga sometime around 1920 -- but the big question is why? Why bother to  mat a photograph of a public works project on what is now known as State Avenue (in the 1920's it was Ontonagon Street; the cross street was and is Superior Avenue)? Was this something a person on the Village council wanted to hang on his wall to prove they'd actually done the work? The photo documentation makes sense; the mat does not. 

The tote is now empty, everything in it worth scanning has been scanned, the hard copies have been catalogued both in PastPerfect and in the Collections Guide Word file, and I can move on to the next box, a mix of items that seem to have a common theme of "medicine." I'm not sure what's under that tote. I do know it's never going to end.