Sincerely Yours: Edna Hatfield Edmondson Describes a Tokyo Earthquake in 1922

As southern California re-stabilizes from two serious earthquakes on July 4 and 5, it may be sensible for us in southern Indiana to revisit some earthquake safety precautions. After all, Bloomington is situated near two significant fault lines: the New Madrid Seismic Zone and the Wabash Valley Seismic Zone. And although Hoosiers might not be too familiar with earthquakes (though some of us might remember the 5.2 magnitude quake in 2008—I know I sure do!), a letter from Edna Hatfield Edmondson shows how a group of Indiana University (IU) athletes handled a large quake back in 1922.

Black and white photograph of 14 members of the IU baseball team and their coach in front of their hotel
The 1922 baseball team at the Tsukiji Seiyoken Hotel. April 14 or 15, 1922. IU Archives image no.
P0042249

Hatfield Edmondson served as a faculty member for the IU Extension Division from 1919-1942. She and her husband, Clarence Edmund Edmondson (a physiology and social hygiene professor and later Dean of Men at IU), chaperoned the IU baseball team during a landmark trip abroad to Tokyo, Japan from March-April, 1922. The University Archives is fortunate to have a collection of letters and postcards that Hatfield Edmondson wrote during this trip. Her letters include attentive recaps of games the baseball team played, descriptions of events to welcome the group in Tokyo, travelogues, and photographs. A particularly lively letter addressed to the IU Director of Publicity (Frank R. Elliot) on April 30, 1922 describes the team’s experience during a large earthquake (see the letter in its entirety at the bottom of this post). She begins:

“The Indiana baseball team is getting the worth of its money on this trip. All sorts of stunts have been staged for me—such as stormy seas, hotel fires, (and the Imperial Hotel was to have housed us but was too full—this we learned the day after our arrival).

Now an earthquake.

The earthquake did itself proud—the worst since 1894. For fear we might be disappointed it jolted us up and down, north and south, and east and west. We were quite “shaken up” by the incident.”

The 1894 quake to which she refers was indeed terrible. The 6.6 magnitude quake occurred on June 20, 1894 and affected downtown Tokyo, Kawasaki, and Yokohama. In addition to widescale physical destruction in these cities, it claimed 31 lives and injured 157 people. Japan has a long history of earthquakes because it is situated on four different lithospheric plates; as such, Japan’s written record of earthquakes goes back around 1,500 years. Fortunately for Edna and the team, this earthquake wasn’t nearly as bad. Her descriptions of how team members fared, however, illustrate how dangerous earthquakes can be in a city full of buildings:

“Lynch, Gilbert, Sloate, Gause, and Wichterman were upstairs in an ivory shop. The proprietor yelled “earthquake” and vanished. The boys rushed to the stairway and stuck there. Gilbert said they rattled around like dice in a box and opened up a new entrance to that shop trying to get out.

Coach, Mrs. Levis, Kidd and Minton were making a call on a Buddha in a temple at the time but lost confidence and deserted the shrine.

Walker was alone in his room on the third floor, waiting for the final blow before jumping along with the tiles from the roof.

Denny and Macer were playing billiards and were only a few jumps behind the Japanese who were playing with them, in getting into the open.”

Edna continues to describe how she and her husband dealt with the shaking, all the while showing her sense of humor about the event:

“Mr. Edmondson and I looked across the table in our room at each other, laughed, then opened up our eyes, rose as one man and found ourselves at the window ready to slide down a telephone pole.”

We know now that proper earthquake safety procedure is to drop onto your hands and knees, cover your head and neck, and hold on to something sturdy. Edna’s jape about sliding down the telephone pole would in fact have been a very dangerous thing to do! The next two players she accounts for experienced firsthand the scary physical consequences of the quake (still with Edna’s trademark sense of humor):

“Clay has always believed his number elevens were a firm

Portrait of Leonard Ruckelshaus in his baseball uniform
The heroic Leonard Ruckelshaus, 1922. IU Archives image no. P0042596

foundation until he saw the sidewalk meeting him in all directions, where he lost confidence.

Kight was shaken out of a sound sleep and came to in the middle of the street—he doesn’t know whether he reached the street by fair means or foul.”

Edna ends her account on a more positive note, describing team member Leonard “Ruck” Ruckleshaus’ bravery:

“Ruckleshaus proved himself the only hero in the crowd by rescuing a beautiful young lady. Trust Ruck!”

We can see the impact the baseball team had on the local community! None of the team members were injured, and in fact they went on to play their next game in the series on May 2. Although the IU team lost more games than they won (the final series record was one victory, one tie, and five losses) they had many thrilling experiences. Aside from the earthquake, they experienced Mount Fuji, the largest tea house in Japan, and the Tokyo Imperial Palace. You can view many images of the team’s Japanese tour in our database.

Scene of a moat surrounding the Imperial Palace in Tokyo
Image from the photo album kept by James Byron Walker who was captain of the 1922 baseball team. A note found on this page reads, in full: “This is a moat that surrounds the Imperial Palace & grounds.” IU Archives image no. P0085306

In the end, it was fortunate timing for Edna and the IU team to experience a Japanese earthquake in 1922. In September 1923 the Great Kanto Earthquake struck the nation and left a devastating path of destruction, killing 140,000 people in resulting fires, floods, and physical destruction. The event is a chilling testament to the tragic potential of earthquakes.

On a more positive note, you can learn more about the IU baseball team’s trip to Japan in multiple places. Be sure to check out previous blog posts here and here, the Edna Hatfield Edmondson correspondence collection (C705), and the Leonard C. Ruckelshaus papers (C519). Both the Edmondson and Ruckelshaus collections are digitized for your perusal. If you have further questions, be sure to contact an archivist.

Scan of page 1 of Edna Hatfield's April 30, 1922 letter to Frank R. Elliot - written in cursive handwriting. Scan of page 2 of Edna Hatfield's April 30, 1922 letter to Frank R. Elliot - written in cursive handwriting. Scan of page 3 of Edna Hatfield's April 30, 1922 letter to Frank R. Elliot - written in cursive handwriting. Scan of page 4 of Edna Hatfield's April 30, 1922 letter to Frank R. Elliot - written in cursive handwriting. Scan of the envelope of Edna Hatfield's April 30, 1922 letter to Frank R. Elliot - includes Japanese stamps.

All’s Wells That Ends Well

Back left to right Mrs. Richard Pell, Mrs. Lyle Dieterle, Front left to right S.G. (Chris) Savage, George Krueger, Norris Wentworth
Card-carrying members of the University Club spelling out the title of the musical honoring Herman B Wells on the occasion of his retirement. Published in the Indiana Daily Student on March 16, 1962

Herman B Wells was one of the most prolific presidents in the history of Indiana University. Even before his presidency, he was an alumnus of IU as well as a member of the faculty. His 25 year-long presidency lasted from 1938 until 1962, covering the second World War and its aftermath.  He was also the first Chancellor of Indiana University starting from his retirement in 1962 until 2000, the year of his death. As a life-long citizen of Indiana and an alumnus of the university, he was invested in its development and its impact on the world at large. He was a champion for intellectual and academic freedom during the time of Alfred Kinsey’s research and an advocate for international studies and communication during and after war-time.

Herman B Wells walking with a cane in his right hand.
A photo taken by Mr. Rick Wood as Wells was walking to work on May 28, 1977. For more information see the Archives Photograph Collection Item P0023858.

At the end of his presidency, Eleanor and Newell Long, professors of English and Music respectively, wrote a musical titled “All’s Wells That Ends Well” as a tribute to Wells on the occasion of his retirement. This was not the first time the Longs had created a musical for Wells. They also wrote and composed “The Inauguration of the Boy President” for the beginning of Wells’ Presidency back in 1939.

“All’s Wells That Ends Well” was performed by over 100 members of the faculty’s University Club on March 16, 1962 in Alumni Hall. It included songs such as Wells Bells, The Chimes of Indiana by Hoagy Carmichael, Our Herman B Wells, and Just B Yourself! (What Does the B Mean?). A recording of some of these songs from the musical can be found in the Archives’ collection. The Bloomington Daily Herald-Telephone described the musical as “…a lively production, full of laughs, in which faculty members set aside their dignity for the evening.” (March 17, 1962, Sec. 1, Page 3)

Left to Right: Newell Long, Eleanor Long, Mary Lou Waters, L.L. Water, Mrs. Clum Bucher (Center)
A photograph published in the Indiana Daily Student about the musical. Features Newell and Eleanor Long on the left.

The story follows two “freshmen” trying to find out what the B in Herman B Wells stands for. They journey through the sacred halls of the Lilly Library, guarded by the monkish librarian, Ballantine Hall, the Jacobs School of Music, and even the University Archives (how very meta!). The answer, as it always does, lies with Wells’ Secretary. The freshmen discover that it actually means “Be yourself”! In reality, the B doesn’t stand for anything, but it makes for a good laugh.

This musical tells us a lot about what people thought about Wells. The song “Our Herman B Wells” in particular lists several of his virtues:

“…Loyal and true to all good Hoosiers.

Faithful to Old IU,

Works hard and steady on this big job.

He fights hard for both the old and new.

His plans have bought us fame and more good will,

won us international hue.

Hard-working, tireless, patient, and willing.

As prexy he’s alright.

Brought IU to the light.

For him we all would fight, our Herman B Wells…

Herman B Wells dressed in academic regalia
Herman B Wells, dressed in academic regalia, preparing to enter the IU Auditorium November 19, 1962. For more information see the Archives Photograph Collection Item P0035419

“Honest and able like Abe Lincoln,

brilliant as any brain,

humble and easy as an old shoe,

he runs college business without strain.

He could at poker win with just a pair,

this man’s skill you don’t disdain.

Foresighted, steady, upright, and ready.

Watch him administrate

the best school in the state.

Boy he can navigate that’s Herman B Wells” (All’s Wells That Ends Well, Side 2, Track 1, 00:54-2:31)

Left to right: Philip Wikelund, Shelby Gerking, Bruce McQuigg, Frank T. Gucker, and George Johnson
Members of the IU Faculty in their costumes for the performance of “All’s Wells That Ends Well.” Published in the Indianapolis Times, March 16,1962.

 

This musical also reveals that he has a sense of humor. From the exaggerated librarians and faculty to the various depictions of students, it is clear that the faculty believed Herman to be more than capable of having a good laugh.

In the end though, perhaps the greatest thing we learn about Wells is that he was always, honestly himself. As a role model, it’s not a bad legacy to leave behind.

 “…Be yourself, just be yourself

Be yourself from day to day

Be yourself, just be yourself

That’s the Herman B Wells way

He avoids all ostentation

No pretense or affectation;

He’s a pleasant, humble, normal, friendly one

He assumes no pose to please,

He has natural poise and ease.

Genuine, sincere, and honest, loving fun.

All these things endear the man.

Emulate him if you can.

Be yourself, just be yourself;

That’s the Herman B Wells way.” (Side 2, Track 2, 02:31-05:42)

Herman B Wells and the cast of All's Wells That Ends Well
Herman B Wells (center) onstage with the cast after the performance of “All’s Wells That Ends Well.” Published in the Daily Herald-Telephone March 17, 1962.

Wells commented on the musical, that “They invested enormous energy and effort in this show. It was delightful, light, happy, and yet, quite moving. I shall never forget it” (Being Lucky: All’s Wells that Ends Well, Track 1, 6:40-7:06).

Those remarks are just a part of the many dictations Wells made in preparation for his autobiography, Being Lucky, which was first published in 1980. As part of the Media Digitization and Preservation Initiative, IU has digitized these tapes, all of which are available now on Media Collections Online. A newer, more complete edition of Wells’ autobiography is expected to be released next year, in time for the bicentennial IU Day. Read the whole story here

To learn more, visit the Indiana University Archives or check out the following links:

Herman B Wells Papers on Media Collections Online

The IU Archives’ Herman B Wells Papers 

The IU Archives’ Newell and Eleanor Long Show files, including scripts and music for “All’s Wells That Ends Well”

Roy Sieber and Igala Masquerades

Roy Sieber, November 1972. IU Archives image no. P0078669

Roy Sieber was a historian of African art who taught at Indiana University Bloomington from 1964 through 1983.  He was the first person to receive a degree in African art in the United States, essentially founding the discipline of African Art studies in this country.

As part of his efforts to document the artistic traditions of West Africa, particularly Nigeria and Ghana, Sieber became well known for his photographs of African art and performance. The Roy Sieber papers at the IU archives, contains black and white photo prints and hundreds of slides of African artwork in use during ritual celebrations and on display in museums, as well as annotated bibliographies written by Sieber’s students providing historical context for specific ethnic groups. Sieber’s career spanned several decades, and the black and white prints in the collection were taken in two time frames: Sieber’s first trip to Nigeria in 1958, and his 1971-1972 trips to museums in various countries with large collections of African art.

While the photographs in this collection depict many different ethnic groups in Nigeria and many different types of art and performance, two particularly striking series of photos document Igala masquerade dances. The Igala people live in the Benue River Basin and a number of Igala villages appear in this collection. While masquerade traditions appear throughout Nigeria and in other parts of West Africa, the style of the mask and dance and the oral narratives associated with those traditions vary widely between regions and ethnic groups. Scholars have suggested that Igala masquerades, much like other parts of their culture, reflect a complex history of conflict, trade, and cultural diffusion with other communities and ethnic groups.

The interactions that have shaped these traditions make it difficult to isolate a uniquely Igala masquerade style, and the many different iterations make it challenging to find information about particular villages’ masking traditions. However, it is evident that as with the masquerades of other ethnic groups, most Igala dances are celebrated on two festival days, one during the rainy season and one during the dry season. These festivals honor ancestral figures and celebrate the agricultural cycles. Additionally, many of these masked dances reflect and reinforce the social and political hierarchies and historical narratives of a particular community.

In the first series of photos below, taken in Okpo village, the caption clarifies that the dancer is wearing an “Egu” mask called “Egodoji,” and that the drums being used are “okelegu,” meaning they are beat with two hands. The text also notes that the mask is Janus-faced and made of painted, carved wood, while the rest of the costume is cloth. In this context, “Egu” refers to the type of festival as well as the mask and dancer; the word has been translated various ways, but scholars have translated it as “spirit” or “dance,” and is associated with annual festivals to honor ancestors and the history of a particular ethnic group.

“Egodoji” jumps as part of the masquerade dance for the Egu festival
The “Egodoji” mask with the “Okelegu” drums (‘beat with both hands). Mask is carved wood with paint and cloth.
Rear view of the Janus-faced helmet mask “Egodoji”
“Egodoji” dances as part of the Egu festival masquerade
“Egodoji” dances as part of the Egu masquerade festival

The second series of photos were taken in Inye village, and the three masks seem to depict potential roles within a marriage. The caption states that the largest mask represents the husband, and is called “Ikonyi,” or “big mouth too big,” while the mask representing the older wife is named “Odomodo,” or “too big,” while the mask representing the younger wife is “Ikekemede,” or “quarrelsome woman.” Sieber notes elsewhere that the husband, Ikonyi, is performed in a “threatening manner” and restrained by a rope around his waist. The three masks always appear together, and seem to constitute a humorous engagement with the practice of marriage and the conflicts produced by that relationship.

“Odomodo,” (older wife, ‘too big’) on the left, “Ikekemede” (young wife, ‘quarrelsome woman’) on the right
Odomodo on the left, Ikekemede on the right
“Ikonyi,” the husband or ‘big mouth too big.’ Carved wood with paint and red seeds at the mouth.
Odomodo on the left, Ikekemede on the right
“Ikekemede” (i.e. quarrelsome woman. Ikonkyi’s young wife); carved wood with paint and bark cloth costume

While Sieber does not provide more context about the spirit in which these masks are intended or received, it is apparent that they are important enough to be performed consistently. Masks are often passed down from one owner to another and can last many years. The mask called Egodoji is a Janus-faced helmet mask, a style that appears in both central and west Africa. Helmet masks are associated with depictions of local ancestry and royal lineages. The masks of the husband and wives, on the other hand, are “horizontal masks,” which often have animal attributes and are associated with “potent sorcery and spirits.” Considered together, these two sets of photos suggest that the masquerades may be used to associate marital responsibilities and the identity of ancestors or royal figures with the attributes of spirits, animals, or the natural world.

A Day in the Life: Pauline Day’s University Years Through Her Scrapbook

A picture is worth a thousand words. I would argue that a scrapbook is therefore worth tens of thousands of words. Scrapbooks are ways for people to collect photos, objects, and other items they deem important in order to reminisce on them later. Of course, as years go by, the value of the scrapbook changes. For modern researchers, scrapbooks become windows into a world that does not exist anymore, or at least one that is very different.

Pauline Day pictured with two unknown men
Pauline Day (foreground), circa 1915.

Pauline Day’s scrapbook is no different. She lived in Indiana her entire life, starting when she was born in Dunkirk, Indiana in 1894. She and her parents lived in Winchester for most of her life. She came to Indiana University in the fall of 1912 to get her degree in English, though she also took several courses in education. Looking in the Arbutus yearbook of 1916, one might wonder what Pauline did in her spare time, considering she was not part of any student group or sorority chapter. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like she wasn’t very involved in anything. Her scrapbook tells a different story.

Continue reading “A Day in the Life: Pauline Day’s University Years Through Her Scrapbook”

Bringing Luck to the Diamond: Superstitions in Baseball

I.U. baseball player Bill Blaise waiting for the home run ball, 1936. (Indiana University Archives, C624, Box 2.)

Opening Day has once again arrived for Major League Baseball, bringing with it the freshness of spring and the warmth of summer. The excitement of a brand new season instills a sense of euphoria in fans, and reminds them the long days of summer are not far behind. An April 4, 1933 clipping from the Indiana Daily Student captured the excitement of a new baseball season for students, declaring unkind those professors who dared schedule exams on the day of the first game.

Nomination for worst professors in April 4, 1933 Indiana Daily Student. (Indiana University Archives, C624, Box 2.)

As teams emerge from their winter hibernation and make their way back to the diamond, they will begin preparing themselves for both the physical and psychological rigors of the game. For superstitious players in particular, the baseball season can be a grueling stretch of routines and beliefs intended to build confidence and ward off bad luck. Baseball superstitions are as old as the game itself, and the very mention of the word brings a feeling of unease among players and fans. While some are humorous, some have become so ingrained in baseball culture they are now enforced as law.  Lyle Green notes some basic superstitions include never stepping on the foul line when walking on and off the field, and above all never mentioning an in-progress no-hitter.

Carl Erskine, a native of Anderson, Indiana, pitched for the Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers from 1948 to 1959. When he was interviewed in 1973 as part of a folklore class at I.U., Erskine detailed the near paranoid levels of superstitions prevalent at the Major League level. Some of the more trivial include the Dodgers’ Leo Durocher, who as third base coach would kick third base before taking his position. Dodgers pitcher Billy Lowes was adamant on sitting in the same spot in the dugout, and always wore the same clothes when he was on the mound. Chicago Cubs first baseman/outfielder Phil Cavaretta would take two warm-up swings of the bat while in the on-deck circle. Before taking a third swing, he would spit in the air, and then hit it.

“Splat, and he was ready to hit,” Erskine recalled.

Though he was surrounded by superstitious players, Erskine himself stated that while he tried avoiding becoming engrossed in superstitions, it was nonetheless challenging to prevent being swept up in them.

“It’s so difficult that I found myself not going to the same seat on the bench, not wearing the same sweatshirt every time I pitched, not walking back the same way each time, to the point where one day I realized…well, I’m being superstitious about not being superstitious,” Erskine said.

Superstitions can be found everywhere on the diamond, including food. Good nutrition undoubtedly keeps the body healthy and in top physical condition, but for the superstitious player it can be the difference between a memorable day at the plate or one better off forgotten. Jay Grohowski, an I.U. baseball player interviewed in 1981, noted the effect something simple like a pre-game hot dog could have on a player’s day.

“You have a hot dog and you go 6-for-8 on a doubleheader, and you go home and…you think, ‘what did I have last game for lunch?’ and you have the same thing again.”

A good meal can certainly keep a player calm, but where the food is consumed can be just as important. Harold Halman, another I.U. baseball player, discussed the role of McDonald’s for a player’s success.

“So happens you go out, the team does well, and you play fairly well, and next day you go there. ‘Let’s all go to McDonald’s, like yesterday,'” Halman said.

Indiana Daily Student clipping welcoming the 1936 baseball season and encouraging fans to bring their favorite razzes to the diamond, April 7, 1936. (Indiana University Archives, C624, Box 2.)

Superstitions can take hold of fans in ways similar to players, though their rituals morph into a communal effort intended to will the home team to victory or support an individual player’s effort. From turning hats inside-out during rallies to tapping bobbleheads, fans become consumed in the moment, and almost work harder than the players themselves to snag victory from the opponent. While Erskine’s mother was listening to her son throw his first no-hitter in 1952, she continued ironing the same tablecloth throughout the entirety of the game, believing any attempt to stop would squander Carl’s efforts.

Clipping from April 4, 1933 Indiana Daily Student heralding a new baseball season. (Indiana University Archives, C624, Box 2.)

“She related my good fortune to what she was doing,” Erskine later said. “She probably felt that she had quite a bit to do with that.”

The beginning of a new baseball season signifies the oncoming days of spending long summer days basking in the sun at the ballpark. For teams and fans looking to keep bad luck at bay, the strains of the game can result in habits and routines seen as bizarre by outsiders but viewed by player’s and lovers of baseball as being essential to keeping a level head when out on the diamond.

Both the the IU Folklore Institute’s student papers collection and the IU Athletics Manager’s Books were mined for this post. If you follow those links, be warned – the student papers collection is HUGE and takes a long time to load. Click “Entire Document” on the left and then walk away for a bit while it loads!