Figure 1 – The original Winnie the Pooh Toys that belonged to Christopher Robin Milne in the New York Public Library. The worked has been released into the public domain by its author Spictacular and is from the English Wikipedia.

I heard on the news this morning that today is the 95th anniversary, or birthday, of the original teddy bear, Edward Bear (later Winnie) that A. A. Milne gave to his son Christopher Robin on August 21, 1921. We cannot let that go by unheralded. Figure 1 is a photograph of Christopher Robin’s original toys, now proudly in the New York Public Library: Clockwise from bottom left: Tigger, Kanga, Edward Bear (a.k.a Winnie-the-Pooh), Eeyore, and Piglet. Roo was also one of the original toys but he was lost a long time ago. Owl and Rabbit were not based on toys. Gopher was made up for the Disney version. “Someone call for an excavation expert?”

Milne purchase  Pooh at the London Department Store Harrods and gave him to his son, Christopher Robin, on his first birthday. Originally Christopher Robin called him “Edward Bear.” But he changed it after seeing the famous black bear, “Winnie,” at the London Zoo. Winnie had been the mascot of the Winnipeg regiment of the Canadian army, and “Pooh,” was a swan in When We Were Very Young, a poetry book by A. A. Milne(1924).  The first appearance of Pooh-bear was in a 1925 Christmas Eve story by Milne in the London Evening News. The original book “Winnie-the-Pooh” was published in 1926 and the sequels “Now We Are Six” in 1927 and “The House at Pooh Corner” in 1928.

There are some wonderful original photographs of Christopher Robin Milne with his Teddy Bear. He is a small diminutive bear to be sure. But

“Sometimes,’ said Pooh, ‘the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” 

Figure 1 – People seeking shelter during an air raid in the London tube (1940). From the Wikimedia Commons, released by the Imperial War Museums under IWM Non Commercial Licence.

I’d like to end this little three-part series about subways and historic subway photographs with the image of Figure 1. This is a photograph that really does not require a title. It is both memetic and thematic. This is photograph HU 44272 from the collections of the Imperial War Museums. It shows people seeking shelter from the blitzkrieg at London’s Aldwych tube station 1940. And the meme is that the English people were indomitable. In that regards it speaks to an important point for those of us who in our time face constitutional travail, that as Edward R. Murrow said “we are not descended from fearful men.” People sacrificed for us, and we should not out of fear succumb to the narcissist who calls on us to sacrifice our democratic ideals and institutions.

The clarion call to history and purpose is why such photographs are so moving. These people appear to be like the Eloi of H. G. Wells’ “Time Machine” driven into the mechanized tunnels by the Morlocks. But they retain their humanity and individual identities despite becoming trologytes. You can imagine a personal story in everyone of the faces. This sense of the “undead” is emphasized by the stark flash-lamp illumination. But note, that to a man and woman they are engaged with the photographer and through the photographer with us. They recognize the importance of what is happening to them.

We have spoken before about how photography captures and instance in time and acts as a means of time travel. Here it is palpable and quite intentional on the part of both the subjects and the photographer. They mean to speak to us. They mean to challenge us.

Figure 1 – Historic photograph of Beach’s pneumatic transit showing both the tunnel and the car in 1873. From the Wikimedia Commons. Original in the archives of the New York Historical Society and in the public domain because its age.

When it comes to cleaning up ectoplasmic mood-slime, “who you gonna call? Ghostbusters.” You may recall in Ghostbusters II their discovery of  a river of such slime, feeding on all the urban badfeelings. Such is the first point of fiction in the movie. New Yorkers filled with bad feelings? But anyway, in the movie this river runs through the “Old Pneumatic Railroad tunnel.”

Such a subway system, referred to as “Beach’s Pneumatic Transit” did, in fact, actually exist from 1870 to 1873. As was common in 19th century America, the pneumatic transit, like all railroad projects, was heavily controlled by politics. Alfred Ely Beach in 1867 demonstrated a model of a railroad powered by pneumatic pressure at the American Institute Exhibition in New York City. Construction of a full-scale demo-system beneath Broadway in lower Manhattan began in 1867.  It consisted of a  single tunnel, 312 feet (95 m) long, 8 feet (2.4 m) in diameter and ran between Warren Street and Murray Street.

I read an article in Scientific American about the pneumatic subway many years ago. One of the big concerns at the time was the effect of the driving vacuum on women, who were, or so it was believed, already oxygen starved because of their tight corsets.

William “Boss” Tweed of Tammany Hall would not support the transit project. Beach circumvented the lack of political support by claiming he was installing pneumatic postal tubes. The pneumatic transit never expanded further but served for three years as a tourist attraction. Beach charged riders 25 cents a ride, which he donated to the Union Home and School for Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Orphans. During its first two weeks of operation, the Beach Pneumatic Transit sold over 11,000 rides and over 400,000 total rides.

While the pneumatic subway only lasted three years, Beach’s pneumatic mail system ran until 1953. Physical letters were delivered almost instantaneously. Such a pneumatic mail system may be considered an early or transitional form of the internet – part of the unstoppable march towards the singularity and worldwide connectedness,

Figure 1 – Opening day at the Boston Public Gardens portal of the Tremont Street Subway Line, Boston, MA, September 1, 1897. From the Wikimedia Commons and in the public domain because of its age.

Today I had a meeting in Boston and took the Green Line “T” to get me there. The great thing about the Green Line” is that it gets you just where you want to go. This is because, and the bad part, it stops everywhere! But it was a beautiful mild and sunny day; so well worth the quiet ride. And for some reason I started thinking about the Kingston Trio, who popularized the song “M.T.A.”

Poor Charlie! Although the ultimate literalist, I always wondered if Charlie’s wife could hand him a sandwich, why she didn’t just hand him a nickel. According to the Metropolitan Boston Transit Authority (we now call it the MBTA) the origin of this song was written for the 1949 mayoral campaign  of Walter A. O’Brien. This was to remind voters of O’Brien’s recent opposition to a fare increase where riders were charged an extra nickel to exit at above ground train-stops. It should be noted that O’Brien’s campaign was unsuccessful.

A NICKEL! When I grew up the fare on the NYC subway was 15 cents. The nickel fare in NYC was instituted at the opening of the subway on October 27, 1904 and lasted forty-four years. After that they made up for lost time  and currently that nickel or the 15 cents of my youth has grown to its current $2.75. It seems appropriate to quote the famous populist candidate William Jennings Bryant who said: “You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.” So much for the view that a legitimate role of government is subsidizing the working man and stimulating commerce. Sounds SOCIALIST!

Anyway, riding home this glorious afternoon, it occured to me to see if I could find a historic photograph of the MBTA from it’s opening day, 1 September 1897, and Figure 1 is it. The trolleys are shown at the Boston Public Garden Portal of the Tremont Street Subway. At left is a car outbound to Pearl Street, Cambridge; at right is a car inbound from Reservoir and a crosstown car via Pleasant Street.

Figure 1 – Adelaide Johnson’s womens’ suffrage memorial in the US Capitol. Image from Flickr and in the public domain because it was taken by and employ of the US government.

Last Thursday, the Democratic National Convention for the first time in American history nominated a women as its standard bearer. Watching that historic event, my mind kept flashing to an image in marble (Figure 1). The statue made of Carrara marble is by Adelaide Johnson (1859-1955) and graces the capital rotunda. It was donated to the United States on February 10, 1921 by the National Woman’s Party to commemorate women’s suffrage. and was accepted on behalf of Congress by the Joint Committee on the Library on February 10, 1921. (see Figure 2)

Figure 2 – Dedication of the monument on February 21, 1921. In the public domain because of its age.

The statue shows four major figures of the women’s movement:

Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815-1902), president of the National Woman Suffrage Association from 1865 to 1893; author of the woman’s bill of rights, which she read at the Seneca Falls, New York, convention in 1848; first to demand the vote for women.

Susan B. Anthony (1820-1906), abolitionist, temperance advocate, and later president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association, who joined with Stanton in 1851 to promote woman suffrage; proposed the constitutional amendment passed many years after her death.

Lucretia Mott (1793-1880), Quaker reformer and preacher, who worked for abolition, peace, and equality for women in jobs and education; organizer of the 1848 Seneca Falls, New York, convention, which launched the women’s rights movement.

But then there is this amorphous uncarved part of the monument – in the hazy background of Figure 1. Tradition holds that this piece of marble is reserved for the unknown champion of women’s equality – the first woman elected president of the United States.

Figure 1 – The Tyneside Irish Brigade advancing on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, July 1, 1916. Taken by an official of the British government and in the public domain in the US and UK by virtue of its age.

As we attempt to deal with “the unspeakable” in our own time, we are ever shadowed by the Great War that played out exactly a century ago. July 1, 1916 marked the start of the Battle of the Somme. Ultimately it lasted from July 1 to November 18, 1916 and was fought on both sides of the upper reaches of the River Somme in France. It was the largest battle of the First World War on the Western Front. More than one million men were wounded or killed, making it one of the bloodiest battles in human history. July 1, 1916 itself was the bloodiest day in British military history.

When the British went “over the top” they suffered 57,470 casualties. This was, greater than the total combined British casualties in the Crimean and Boer wars. At the end of the battle, British and French forces had pushed the Germans back by six miles. Indicative of the state of stalmate this was the largest gain in territory since the Battle of the Marne in 1914. Historian debate the role of the Somme in the ultimate Allied Victory.

There are many photographs that survive of this battle. Some are real and some were staged at the time to serve government propaganda and news purposes. Figure 1 shows a support company of the Tyneside Irish Brigade advancing from the Tara-Usna Line opposite La Boisselle on the first day of the battle. It was taken by a member of the Royal Engineers No 1 Printing Company. It’s fuzziness and back lighting create a feeling both of surrealism and age. It is reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman’s “Seventh Seal” and the “Dance of Death.” It seems a dim and distant memory or nightmare that still stands to haunt us asking the question both for now and then of “Why?” One point is terribly clear, our ability to photograph wars has certainly not brought them to an end.

Figure 1 -Lycopodiella cernua. Image from the Wikimedia Commons original by Eric Guinther distributed under a Creative Commons Share-Alike Attribution 4.0 International license.

Last night I was doing some reading about the lycophyta. This is a phylum of vascular plants. OK, don’t ask me why. It’s just that I am interested in all sorts of things. Figure 1 is an example of a lycophyte specially Lycopodiella cernua. If you walk along in forests, like I do, these kinds of plants are quite common. Indeed, that statement could be made for a very long time. The fossil record dates them back to the Devonian, 416 million to 358 million years ago.

You may at this point ask what this all has to do with photography and the thing is that in my taxonomy book I came across a cryptic statement that lycophyte spores were used in photography flash powder. This seemed a invaluable factoid and perked my love of the esoteric gene. So today I did some computer searching.

Lets see human uses of lycopodia abound. There are the usual uses in treating ailments such as urinary tract problems, diarrhea and other digestive tract problems, headaches, skin ailments, and the induction of labor. And, needless-to-say, in some cultures they were used as aphrodisiacs. Where would we be without that? And here’s the critical thing, the spores are also very flammable because of to their high oil content. As a result, they were used in Native American cultures for dramatic ceremonial purposes. The shamans would toss the spores into a fire for a flash of light. As a result, Lycopodium powder was used as a flash powder for photography. The dried spores of the common clubmoss, was similarly used in Victorian theater to produce flame-effects and in fireworks. A blown cloud of spores burned rapidly and brightly, but with little heat. It was considered safe by the standards of the time. Famous last words!

In the 19th century lycopodium powder was a common laboratory supply, The inventor of photography Nicéphore Niépce used lycopodium powder in the fuel for the first internal combustion engine, the Pyréolophore, in about 1807.  Chester Carlson used lycopodium powder in 1938 in his early experiments to demonstrate xerography, aka the precursor of today’s Xerox machine. Still not impressed? Take a look at this video.