By Steve Rosen (adapted from a Cincinnati CityBeat story Feb. 23 2010) . . . . . . . Most people would say there’s a clear distinction between a library and a museum. A library circulates books and audio/visual materials to people who want to use them; a museum collects valuable objects in order to protect and preserve them. But, as it happens, major libraries have a museum-like function — they have special collections of all sorts of unusual and offbeat material, often of a local nature. And as time marches on and those collections get older, they take on increased meaning, value and fascination. Some public libraries, like Los Angeles’, have even set up small museums and/or galleries to show off their collections. That is happening with the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County, too. Through the end of February, Downtown’s Main Library had an excellent example of what can be done with these special collections. My Castle on the Nile: Illustrated Sheet Music by Black Composers 1880-1944 was on display primarily in the third floor Cincinnati Room. Now, beginning March 7, the Library dips into the prints from Cincinnati’s old Strobridge Lithography Company to show some of its late-19th/early-20th-century theater, circus and magic-show posters. Up though May 28, the exhibit is nicely timed to coincide with a similar show of Strobridge circus posters at Cincinnati Art Museum. The Library has over 1,000 Strobridge posters from that era, all donated when the company was sold in 1960. There are some oddities in the collection, such as an aerial view of Camp Dennison, reports Patricia Van Skaik, who runs the Cincinnati Room. My Castle on the Nile was curated by Theresa Leininger-Miller, an associate professor of art history at UC, and was absorbing as both art and American history/sociology. As the latter, its lessons were bittersweet. For all the accomplishments of these songwriters, they had to negotiate a racist society where they were expected to conform to stereotypes. For one person represented in the show, “Blind Tom,” that negotiation was extraordinary. The cover art, usually by white illustrators, often reflected the stereotypes. (The Library has some 10,000 song sheets in its collection, since Cincinnati was once a publishing center.) But there were some fascinating stories here. Henry Creamer and Turner Layton wrote a tune that Sophie Tucker recorded, “After You’ve Gone.” There is self-taught composer James A. Bland’s 1878 “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny,” which, in 1914, became the first recording by a classical artist (Alma Gluck) to sell a million copies. And then there is Gussie Davis, who left his native Cincinnati for New York and a solid songwriting career on Tin Pan Alley, the first African American to do so. He wrote the famous “folk” song, “Irene, Goodnight.” Of further interest were three items by/about Blind Tom. Diane Malstrom, Cincinnati research librarian, provided information: One is a brief biography article published in New York around 1868 entitled The Marvelous Musical Prodigy, Blind Tom. The other two items were sheet music: Oliver Gallop by Thomas Wiggins (Bethune) or Blind Tom (1860) and Blind Tom’s Waltz (1865). She also provided label copy from the exhibit about the fascinating Blind Tom — a musician worthy of a biopic or major biography: Thomas “Blind Tom” Wiggins (1849–1908), blind from birth, was an autistic savant and musical prodigy who published numerous compositions and had a lengthy performing career. He was born on the Wiley Edward Jones Plantation in Harris County, Georgia and sold with his parents to Columbus, Georgia lawyer General James Neil Bethune. Bethune renamed the child Thomas Greene Bethune, or Thomas Wiggins Bethune. Bethune’s daughters granted the boy access to their piano. By age five Wiggins reportedly had composed his first tune,“The Rain Storm.” The general then allowed him to live in a room attached to the family house, away from the slave quarters, equipped with a piano,which Wiggins played for almost twelve hours daily. While he could repeat conversations up to ten minutes in length, he communicated his own needs with mere grunts and gestures. A traveling showman, Perry Oliver, rented Wiggins at the age of eight and marketed him as a “Barnum-stylef reak,” advertising the transformation from animal to artist. The press compared Wiggins to a bear, baboon, or mastiff. Wiggins could faithfully reproduce any performance, often after a single listening. The “audience challenge” became a regular feature of his concerts. Supposedly, he learned 7,000 pieces of music, including hymns, popular songs, waltzes, and classical repertoire. He also uncannily imitated nature sounds and voices of public figures. Novelist Willa Cather, writing in the Nebraska State Journal, called Wiggins “a human phonograph, a sort of animated memory, with sound producing power.”Bethune toured Wiggins throughout the South. In 1860, as Blind Tom, he performed at the WhiteHouse before President James Buchanan. Mark Twain attended many of Wiggins’ performances over several decades. Bethune took Wiggins on a European concert tour in 1866 and, in 1875, transferred management to his son who accompanied Wiggins on tour around the U.S. for the next eight years. Each summer he lived in New York where Joseph Poznanski transcribed new compositions. Wiggins insistedthat many of them be published under such pseudonyms as Professor W.F. Raymond, J.C. Beckel, C.T.Messengale, and Francois Sexalise. In 1882, John Bethune married his landlady, Eliza Stutzbach, then went on an eight-month tour with Wiggins. Feeling abandoned, Eliza divorced John then hounded him for financial support. After John died, Tom was returned to General Bethune. Eliza sued Bethune and won custody in 1887. Under her management and that of her attorney (and later husband), Wiggins toured for years. He usually introduced himself onstage in the third person and talked about his mental state with a lack of self-awareness. A doctor diagnosed him as non compos mentis, which Wiggins thought was impressive. Unending legal challenges to Eliza’s custodianship forced her to stop touring him around 1893. In 1903, she put him on the popular vaudeville circuit, beginning with Brooklyn’s Orpheum Theater. He played for a year, then suffered a stroke in 1904, which ended his public performing career. After the death of her husband, Eliza relocated to Hoboken, New Jersey, with Wiggins. They kept out of public view, though neighbors could hear Tom’s piano playing at all hours of the day and night. There are many other special collections in the Library waiting to be explored and discovered, including one with some 250 charts and posters covering scientific and technological subjects and a huge map collection that includes 20 globes. Additionally, the Library has a collection of around 25,000 theater, dance, music and film programs. One of my favorite special collections consists of restaurant menus. You can hungrily watch Cincinnati commercial and social history — as well as dining trends and prices — change through the decades as you peruse the bills of fare from long-gone places like The Heritage, Gourmet Room, Busy Bee, Caproni’s, Central Oyster House, Cricket, InCahoots, Jack & Klu’s, Mahogany Hall, Perri’s Pancakes, The Playboy Club, Pigall’s, Shuller’s Wigwam, Warren Sublette’s Winery, Wiggins, Zimmer’s, Zinos and maybe more. It’s one really worth an exhibition — hopefully with snacks. For more information, visit www.cincinnatilibrary.org. Continue reading →