Finns and Hungarians, Part I

Mulling over the question of the Finnish-Hungarian language connection brought me somewhat circuitously to the Finnish and Hungarian people connection at Cranbrook, namely Géza Maróti and Zoltan Sepeshy. Early in Eliel Saarinen’s tenure, George Booth, interested in engaging a sculptor, took up Saarinen’s suggestion of Géza Maróti, already well known with works in the USA as well as Mexico and Finland. Maróti in turn suggested Zoltan Sepeshy because in his opinion Hungarians were better trained (in practically everything) than others.

Geza Maroti with glass ceiling of the mexican national theater 1909 Hungarian National Gallery archives

Maróti with his design for the glass Dome ceiling of the Mexican National Theater, 1909. Courtesy of the Hungarian National Gallery Archives.

Sepeshy doesn’t make it to Cranbrook until 1931, so we’ll begin with Maróti. Two years younger than Saarinen and knowing him since early days at the Saarinen villa/studio at Hvitträsk in Finland, Géza Maróti was a natural suggestion for a sculptor to work at Cranbrook. The Saarinens and Marótis were good friends, with Géza writing to Loja Saarinen in German in beautiful, clear handwriting. He sent letters and rhymes to little boy Eero, too. All Saarinen had to do was utter the magic words “arts and crafts” and Booth was sold. George Booth does comment in February 1927 that he has no personal knowledge of Maróti, taking the Saarinens’ recommendation as enough and adding somewhat opaquely “but of course [I] realized their point of view was partly foreign.”

Geza Maroti in his Cranbrook Studio Cranbrook Archives

Maróti with his design for the Cranbrook School for Boys library overmantel behind him in his studio, 1927. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

Maróti was nevertheless a perfect fit for Cranbrook: he was another polymath like the Saarinens as architect, archaeologist, painter, designer, as well as sculptor. The Detroit News of March 1927 reported Professor Maróti’s conviction that “because architecture is the fundamental art the work of the sculptor and the painter is most valuable when it is architecturally conceived.” Professor Saarinen adds in the same article that it is one thing to model a figure, but “quite another thing to see that figure in relation to a building and to express that decoration architecturally rather than pictorially.” This in a nutshell is Maróti’s claim to fame.

At Cranbrook from early 1927 until early 1929, Maróti sculpts fireplaces, archways, and doors for Cranbrook School for Boys offering what the Bloomfield Hills Tatler of 1927 calls an “unforgettable visual education.” Most notable are the Galileo door at the base of the Cranbrook quadrangle tower, and the library doors.

The Galileo door really is an education. The tower was supposed to house a telescope and what better icon to choose than the “father of modern physics” born, incidentally, in the same year as Shakespeare. Maróti’s Galileo is masterly, floating above the door, clutching a telescope and gazing firmly aloft. Behind his head, in case viewers don’t remember the controversy, are the words “Ecco Muove” or “Here: it moves.”

His doorway is surrounded by learned cherubs offering tribute to other scientific pioneers: Linnaeus, Pasteur, Darwin, Curie, Ohm, Newton, Copernicus amongst others.

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View of the “Galileo” door by Géza Maróti at Cranbrook School’s main academic building, now known as Hoey Hall. October 1936. Richard G. Askew, photographer. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

The Library doors take another tack altogether with the fruits of learning unexpectedly represented by stylized gifts of the good Michigan earth such as squash, beans, cherries, pears, corn, and wheat carved in rich, burnished oak.

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“Door of Knowledge” by Géza Maróti at entrance of Cranbrook School for Boys Library. c. 1985. Richard Hirneisen, photographer. Copyright Richard Hirneisen/Cranbrook Archives.

Maróti is also busy fitting in his work elsewhere with, among others, Albert Kahn’s Fisher building in Detroit. There you can see the Maróti sculpted allegorical renderings of peace, flight, and other industrial arts as well as his signature eagles, mosaics, and his painted frescoes. A riot of color.

Fisher Building Ceiling by Geza Maroti Jack P. Johnson Copyright 2010

Fisher Building lobby ceiling by Géza Maróti. Jack P. Johnson, photographer. Copyright Johnson 2010, Courtesy of Detroit Architecture Book blog.

Unfortunately for Cranbrook, Géza and Léopoldine Maróti are not their happiest tucked away in remote Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, feeling cut off and not “agile enough to remain even partially in contact with music, art and life.” This does not say much for those who stayed, but the Marótis decide they have to leave.

After some time in Chicago and New York they are back in Budapest by 1930, just in time for WWII which their family survives. More sculpture follows, but Moróti’s abiding preoccupation until his death in 1941 is a cultural history of Atlantis which remains unpublished.

The burning question of Finnish and Hungarian? Many years ago, 5000 years ago to be approximate, Finnish or Finnic and Hungarian or Ugric, both at that point Uralic languages, had a common ancestor, which linguists call proto-Uralic. After that point, they diverge, as is typical of language groups. So the simple answer is they are not much alike at all, are not mutually comprehensible.  Finnish has a few Swedish and German words but doesn’t resemble any other language. Finnish and Hungarian are as alike as English and Farsi.­­­­­­­­­­­ Luckily for Géza and his lovely wife Poldi, they spoke German.

–Lynette Mayman, Collections Interpreter

Editor’s Note: If you would like to read more about Maróti’s work at Cranbrook, check out a new essay by retired Cranbrook Schools faculty member Dr. Jeffrey Welch with photography by Academy alum P.D. Rearick. Dr. Welch’s essay is titled “The Gift of Knowledge: A Witty History Puzzle for Growing Youth,” and concerns Maróti’s fascinating, monumental fireplace overmantel in the historic Cranbrook School for Boys Library.

Discovering Turtle Fountain

The collections at Cranbrook Archives are used by a wide population of researchers and have a broad reach academically and internationally. The collections are also used internally for diverse purposes, including historic preservation, education, program development, and fact-checking. A recent research request related to the original installation of Turtle Fountain on the circular terrace at Cranbrook House.

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Turtle Fountain, 1925. K. Hance, photographer. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

In the late winter of 1924, George and Ellen Booth took a trip to Europe. In a letter dated February 15, 1924, to Cecil Billington, George explains,

“We stopped in Rome to see if by chance I could find a fountain for the new circular terrace basin – and I did – at first it seemed quite out of reach, but some favorable circumstances helped a lot…”

He goes on to discuss the agreements for packaging and shipping the fountain, which is no less than 10 tons of Verona marble. Similar information is found in a letter from George to Henry Scripps Booth, which also describes their experience of staying in Paris and Rome:

Letter from George G. Booth to Henry S. Booth, February 15, 1924. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

While Florence and Carol [Farr Booth] went to see the sights and do a little shopping, George writes,

“I at once went to the Galerie Sangiorgi where I bought the last fountain – and at first was disappointed as I had a mind picture which could not be realized there. There was one fountain which they had when I was there last – a replica of one in Rome often regarded as the best if not, as some say, “the most beautiful”…”

The letter is very informative about the materials from which the fountain is made, what they weigh, and how he envisions it on the circular terrace, even including a small drawing of the base of the fountain (top of page 2).

Invoice, Galleria Sangiorgi, February 25, 1924. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

The fountain was cast by Chiurazzi Foundry in Naples, whose works were often sold by the Galerie Sangiorgi. The design of the fountain was inspired by the Fontana delle Tartarughe, which stands in the Piazza Mattei in Rome. The original was designed by Giacomo della Porta and Taddeo Landini in 1581, which featured dolphins instead of turtles. During restoration in 1658, the dolphins were removed due to their weight and replaced by bronze turtles, which were sculpted by Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini. Cranbrook’s Turtle Fountain was restored in September 1980 through the Gardens Auxiliary. Visit the fountain this spring on your own or on a tour with Cranbrook House and Gardens Auxiliary.

– Laura MacNewman, Associate Archivist

 

 

Combining the beautiful with pleasant labor: illuminated manuscripts and the handprinting press

In celebration of “March is reading month,” I began thinking upon writing about something book-related. As I kept on thinking about it, I discovered more and more fun things, and ended up with a blog post that covers 1300 years of reading-related history that brings us right up to the minute; well, last weekend at least. Sounds like a lot for a short blog post but don’t worry, I’ve squeezed the first 700 years into one paragraph.

And so to begins with illuminated manuscripts, which were written and decorated entirely by hand—the only way to make a book in the medieval period. Reflecting the spiritual focus of medieval society, its art was always divinely-inspired. Illuminated manuscripts are among the most beautiful examples of how medieval artisans sought to create something glorious that was, at the same time, a thing to be used in everyday life. Illuminated manuscripts are most often liturgical texts, such as psalters, which were later superseded by Books of Hours. Medieval literary texts were illuminated as well, including those of Chaucer, Dante, and the tale of Tondal, written by an Irish monk in Germany. One of the most notable of early illuminated manuscripts are the Lindisfarne Gospels, which were written in 715 in the local vernacular rather than Latin. As paper did not enter the European market until the sixteenth century, illuminated manuscripts are made of parchment or vellum. The style of writing or script that you will see in early manuscripts is ‘book hand,’ also known as Anglicana in its slightly differentiated English style, and later texts may use Court or Secretary hand.

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A Leaf from the Gutenberg Bible, 1450-1455. Copyright Cranbrook Archives, Center for Collections and Research.

In 1440, Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press and henceforth the process of making books was changed. The Gutenberg Bible, as shown in the image above, is one of the earliest books printed using the printing press and it follows the Vulgate translation by St. Jerome that is also one of the earliest illuminated manuscripts. The introduction of the printing press did not put an end to beautifully decorated texts; they became handprinted and illuminated, rather than handwritten. George Gough Booth studied the work of the ancient printers, from Gutenberg and Ulrich Zell—from whom William Caxton learned the craft, to Caxton’s successor Wynkyn de Worde, and Nicholas Jenson. It is Jenson that Booth states perfected the art of printing by improving the Roman characters. The Cranbrook Papers are printed in a modern adaptation of Jenson’s Roman typeface.

Inspired by the work of ancient printers and William Morris’ Kelmscott Press, Booth established the Cranbrook Press in 1900. Text was created using a Lion Reliance Press, then the initials and borders were illuminated by hand by Booth himself. Between 1900 and 1902, nine books were printed and decorated in this way, including reprints of books such as the “Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers” by Caxton, and “Utopia” by Sir Thomas More. The Cranbrook Press also produced original works such as the monthly broadsheet, the “Cranbrook Papers,” and books such as the “Pleasures of Planting”.

By studying the materials in the George Gough Booth Papers at Cranbrook Archives, we can learn about and understand his motivation and vision for the Cranbrook Press:

“…work most agreeable to my tastes and inclinations that combined the beautiful with pleasant labor and inspired by the record of ancient printers and the modern endeavors of Wm. Morris. I have sought here to begin a modest work for the pleasure of striving to do good work not out of harmony with my chosen life work”.

Although the Cranbrook Press ceased in 1902, Booth’s vision to combine the beautiful with good work has an enduring presence at Cranbrook Educational Community. The materials that are preserved and made accessible at Cranbrook Archives help us remember and perpetuate this vision in each of the institutions that form the community.

Last weekend, the Center for Collections and Research hosted an event in collaboration with Signal-Return in Detroit that really shows how the archives can inform our knowledge of local history and inspire the cultivation of handcrafted art. The event, ““Work Most Agreeable”: George Booth and the Cranbrook Press,” was a presentation and hands-on letterpress workshop where participants created handprinted poster with one of George Booth’s mottos using the traditional letterpress method that Signal-Return still employs.

The Center of Collections and Research hosts many events throughout the year, you can see what’s coming up next here and join the newsletter to keep up to date.

– Laura MacNewman, Associate Archivist

Cranbrook Fire Department

Recently, the Center for Collections and Research received a Cranbrook Fire Department Firefighter’s Helmet. It had been given to Charles Zimmerman while he was a Police Officer at Cranbrook by one of the Vettraino brothers. Because of the new acquisition, I decided to read up on the Cranbrook Fire Department.

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Cranbrook Fire Department Firefighter’s Helmet. Gift of Frank M. Edwards.

In 1934, George G. Booth asked the Cranbrook Foundation to purchase a fire truck and equipment, essentially beginning the Cranbrook Fire Department. A fire hall was built in early 1935 to house the new truck – a 1934 Ford Truck V8 Chassis with a Proctor-Keefe Company body and fire equipment, including a 500-gallon Barton-American Pump mounted on the front of the truck.

In the existing Tower Cottage fire hall (built in 1921) was a 1934 Ford Pick-up with fire equipment and a Barton-American U-355 pump mounted on the front of the car; booster tank and fittings, 2 lengths suction hose, and a hydrant adapter. It had been purchased by George and Ellen Booth for use at the homestead property.

In 1935, after studying at the University of Michigan’s Fire School, Dominick Vettraino was named the Fire Chief. The Assistant Chief was his brother John Vettraino. All other firefighters were volunteers from the maintenance staffs of all the Cranbrook institutions. Because they were paid, the Chief or Assistant Chief was always on call, including Sundays and holidays, and lived on campus, but it was not until 1938, that the Cranbrook Foundation decided a residence for the Chief should be built next to the fire hall.

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Cranbrook Fire Department Chief Dominick Vettraino. Dominick Vettraino Papers. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

To cover the cost of the department, and to pay the Chief and Assistant Chief, proportional interdepartmental support was required. The insurance savings to Cranbrook for having its own fire department ended up offsetting the cost of having the department and gave Cranbrook a better insurance rating than even the City of Bloomfield Hills.

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Left to right: Louis Larson, Ed Morrow, Homer Murphy, Walter Powell, Donald Tompkins, Pete Peterson, Chief Dominick Vettraino, and Floyd Pickering, members of the Cranbrook Fire Department in 1944. Not pictured, George Leslie, John Winfield, O.D. Hillman, and John Vettraino. Dominick Vettraino Papers. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

The Cranbrook Fire Department protected all the Cranbrook institutions and residences as well as the nearby homes of the Booth’s children: the Beresfords, the Henry S. Booths, the Warren S. Booths, and Harry L. & Grace B. Wallace. Though strictly a Cranbrook institution, the department was always willing to assist neighbors in the community when possible.

For more great images related to the Cranbrook Fire Department, click here.

Leslie S. Mio, Associate Registrar

Cranbrook’s Fresh Air Camp

George G. Booth referred to it as the “Fresh Air Camp.” Located on the northwest end of Glassenbury (later Kingswood) Lake, the small camp served a very altruistic purpose.

In the 19th century, romantic poems and novels had people suffering from “consumption” — leading artists of the day like John Keats and Frederic Chopin suffered from it — but this “white plague” was not romantic, it was tuberculosis. Tuberculosis is a bacterial infection that attacks the lungs. In the 1880s it was established that tuberculosis was contagious and spread through the air like a cold or the flu. In the early 20th century, tuberculosis was the leading cause of death in the United States.

The foremost thinkers of the day believed that the cramped conditions in cities and the lack of access to what was known as “good air” was spreading the disease. Many open-air camps, fresh air camps, open-air schools, sanitoriums, preventoriums, and tuberculosis hospitals began to spring up in the countryside around large cities. By 1900, fresh air camps were commonplace in Britain, the United States, Australia, and New Zealand. The concept was that fresh air, good ventilation, and rest could cure tuberculosis.

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Cranbrook Estate, circa 1906, looking north from the future site of Cranbrook House. Fresh air camp circled in red. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.

We don’t know much about the Booth’s Fresh Air Camp — when it was started, how long it was on the property, or who the campers (patients) were. All we have are pictures as evidence it existed here at Cranbrook and that George G. Booth’s farm in Bloomfield Township was a perfect location for such a camp.

Leslie S. Mio, Associate Registrar

Hidden Carvings: Misericords

Of the many beautiful works of art and ornament at Christ Church Cranbrook, I have noticed one type is much less documented than others: the misericords. I set out to explore the story behind these little hidden carvings. Misericords are hinged wooden seats that swing up to provide a supportive ledge in the choir stalls of churches and cathedrals—the choir, in the architectural sense, is situated within the chancel between the nave and the sanctuary.

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Christ Church Cranbrook choir stalls in the chancel taken from the south aisle of the nave, ca. 1946. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

The seat appears to be quite ordinary until you lift it up to reveal its carved underside. Traditionally, they were carved with mythological or real animals, foliage, or humorous scenes.

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The history of misericords goes back to the monastic churches of the middle ages, when the monks spent many hours praying in the choir. Their name comes from the Latin ‘miserericordia’ meaning ‘mercy’ or ‘compassion,’ stemming from ‘misereri’ (to have pity) and ‘cor’ (heart). Misericords were introduced into churches and cathedrals around the thirteenth century, so that elder monks could lean on them and didn’t have to stand unaided for the entire service.

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Architectural Drawing for Misericords in Choir Stalls Nos. 1-4 depicting pride, envy, gluttony, and covetousness, January 10, 1928. Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue Associates/Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

The misericord carvings for Christ Church Cranbrook were drawn by a designer with the initials ‘TCM’ at Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue Associates, who were also the architects of the church itself. The carvings for choir stalls 1-7 depict the seven deadly sins (pride, envy, gluttony, covetousness, anger, sloth, and lust). Choir stalls 8-16 depict more contemporary images reflecting life in 1927, including charlatanism in art, politics, machinery, jazz and prize fighting (8-12) and building the church, speed, big business, and prohibition (13-16).

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Misericord depicting “Speed,” represented by different modes of transportation (choir stall 14), the metal braces are a later repair. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

The misericord design for ‘building the church’ (choir stall 13) is particularly noteworthy for its representation of Oscar Murray and George Gough Booth extending the church by pulling it apart and adding another bay:

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Misericord depicting Oscar H. Murray and George Gough Booth lengthening the church (choir stall 13). Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

In George Gough Booth’s correspondence, I found this letter, which is instructive in discovering the creative process from idea to design to finished object:

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Letter from Oscar H. Murray to George Gough Booth regarding the misericord showing the building of the church, July 3, 1928. Copyright Cranbrook Archives.

The letter tells us that the carver used a photograph of George Gough Booth (depicted on the right side of the misericord) to help with the details of the carving.

The misericords were carved by Irving and Casson of Boston, who also carved the screen between the narthex and the nave and the canopied vaulting above the choir stalls. However, the name of the carver is not recorded. Christ Church Cranbrook is celebrating its 90th anniversary on September 29. Also stay tuned for our ‘Ecclesiastical Structures of Detroit’ Day Away trip in the fall.

-Laura MacNewman, Associate Archivist

The Multiple-George Theory

From my office window in Cranbrook House, I have a great view of the motor court. I can see the comings and goings of the house: coworkers rushing to meetings, facilities moving tools and tables, the busy bees of the Cranbrook House and Gardens Auxiliary at work, and visitors to the campus exploring the house and grounds.

As guests walk around finding flowers, sculptures, and fountains, I always see them step up to the locked side entrance of the house and try and figure out one of the most unusual pieces of art at Cranbrook: George Washington brandishing a flyswatter over George Booth. DSC_0523The acrylic painting, set within a blind window, shows George Booth napping on the daybed in his Still Room (those guests who’ve been on a Cranbrook House tour know the Still Room’s daybed is literally right behind this wall). Behind him is the ghostly figure of Washington, holding a copy of the July 4, 1776, Philadelphia Gazette and his swatter. It is a (not-terribly-convincing) trompe-l’œil fitted within the existing window frame. The 47×22” painting was completed in 1976 by Academy student Gregory High (MFA, Painting, 1977). George and GeorgeHenry Scripps Booth commissioned the painting while he was serving as a Cranbrook Educational Community trustee and while he was using George’s office suite for his own offices. He told the alumni magazine, the window commemorates “the long list of founders who seized opportunities that have been bequeathed to them from those who have gone before.”

Further, Henry explained that “there is at least one fly in almost every organizational ointment as well as in many of our best dreams…Those pesky flys require a decisive swat by a person of intuition and experience of historical perspective. George Washington, in a haze of tradition, plays that part of this bit of symbolic fantasy.”

Henry commissioned the painting as part of the Bicentennial celebrations of 1976, and it was revealed on Cranbrook’s Founders Day by George and Ellen’s three-year-old great-great-granddaughter Stephanie Booth, who was dressed in an 1867 dress belonging to Ellen.

The Cranbrook Quarterly (Fall 1976) wrote, “[the painting] could be considered one of the more unusual commemorations of the Bicentennial because it…develops the ‘multiple-George theory’ of Cranbrook’s—and the nation’s—founding.” Henry told the Quarterly that he “hoped that this window will be enjoyed by the passerby as it would be by Cranbrook’s founders if they were suddenly to come upon it and discover one of them was being spoofed.”

I can certainly attest that the painting gets a lot of looks and begs a lot of questions from the viewer. It’s one of the strangest—and most accessible—works on campus.

Happy Fourth of July everyone!

– Kevin Adkisson, 2016-2019 Collections Fellow, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research

Photo (Shoot) Friday

In preparing for the Center’s upcoming Edible Landscapes Dinner, I came across a series of images from a photo shoot of George and Ellen Booth in the 1940s. Some images were clearly taken in the Cranbrook House Library or Oak Room, but other images were harder to place.

Here, George and Ellen are seated with a magazine, and she is examining a vase. Below (after a wardrobe change), they’re seen opening a package. While it may not look like a room we know in Cranbrook House, they’re in Mrs. Booth’s Morning Room—Mr. Booth’s old office.

With the completion of the West Wing addition to Cranbrook House in 1918, George Booth relocated his office to a larger suite of rooms beyond the grand new Library. His first office, original to the 1908 home, was converted into a Morning Room for use by Ellen. The conversion was spearheaded by the Booth children, who remodeled the space as a Christmas gift for their mother in the 1930s. Mrs. Booth apparently loved the room, and made great use of its bright, cheery atmosphere.

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Ellen Booth’s Morning Room in Cranbrook House, 1952. Cranbrook Archives.

George insisted that the renovation of his old office be reversible to the original Albert Kahn design. You can see in the photographs the seams of the panels that made up the new pale walls. In 1993, the room was returned to its original appearance as George’s office by the Cranbrook House & Gardens Auxiliary.

The images from this photo shoot in the 1940s have been used over the years in various Cranbrook histories and publications focused on the Booths themselves. I’m appreciating the photos for showing a small glimpse into the life of Ellen and her now-gone Morning Room.

Kevin Adkisson, Collections Fellow, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research

Squawk Like an Animal

While many of us know that George Booth’s acquisition of a mineral collection formed the nucleus of the Institute of Science, who knew that Cranbrook once maintained a zoo? In 1929, Cranbrook’s “Natural History Museum of the [Cranbrook] Foundation” was established (it was the pre-cursor to the Institute of Science) with naturalist W. Bryant Tyrrell as the director. In addition to the mineral collection, Cranbrook’s “modern scientific” museum also had a small collection of taxidermied birds and mammals which were housed in what is now the Academy of Art administration building. A workshop was set up in the basement which doubled as a preparation space and classroom where Tyrrell taught Cranbrook School boys about natural history. Tyrrell was also instrumental in designing the science portion of Cranbrook’s first exhibition space.

When the first science building (designed by George Booth) was constructed in late 1930 on Sunset Hill, plans were made for a small zoo which would eventually house smaller mammals, reptiles, and amphibians of the Great Lakes Region in “pens of modern design.” With Tyrrell’s experience as a taxidermist and naturalist at both the Field Museum in Chicago and the Detroit Children’s Museum, Cranbrook’s Natural History Museum found itself the recipient of live raccoons, snakes, frogs, and even a mother skunk and her babies.

Feeding Shelter, Mar 1930. W. Bryant Tyrrell, photographer. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

Soon, the informal Cranbrook zoo spilled out of the rear of the new building and down into the small ravine behind it. Temporary cages for the animals were placed along the edges of the ravine, and were of considerable interest not only to the Cranbrook School boys but also to the general public. The first issue of the Institute’s Newsletter (November 1931) stated that “the zoo is growing rapidly, and is beginning to achieve quite professional proportions with the addition this month of a wildcat, red fox, several weasels, and three white rats. The rats were loaned by [student] J. O’Connor of Cranbrook School.”

Cranbrook School boys with flying squirrels, May 1930. W. Bryant Tyrrell, photographer. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives

However, not all were so enamored with the idea of live animals including George Booth, especially when a black snake was found in the hallway by one of the secretaries who fainted in fright! And, in fact, the Institute did not have the resources to support a really good zoo. Ultimately, several factors contributed to the demise of the short-lived zoo including a new curator for the museum (which led to Tyrrell’s resignation in June 1931) and the formal establishment of the Institute of Science in 1932. The national-wide financial crisis and the Bank Holiday of 1933 put a final end to Cranbrook’s brief foray into zookeeping.

Leslie S. Edwards, Head Archivist

Booth and Birds

In a corner of George Booth’s Old Country Office, there is a door that opens into a blank wall. I became curious about this door to nowhere last year when I was setting up the Center’s holiday display, and so this year’s Christmas scene is inspired by the door’s original purpose.

Around 1919, Booth purchased a blue and yellow macaw and named him Mack. Mack, like all parrots, enjoyed chewing things—Booth’s picture frames, furniture, and the walls themselves. Booth thought getting a second macaw, which he named Jack, might calm Mack’s chewing, but alas, he simply doubled the trouble.

In early 1920, Booth added a flat-roofed glass walled aviary outside of his office to give Mack and Jack their own space (and save the furniture). It was bound by the exterior walls of the office, living room, and library. Accessed through a door left of the fireplace, Mack and Jack were joined by canaries in the aviary, and according to Henry Booth’s memories, every time the canaries sang or the telephone rang, the macaws’ squawk would fill the house.

This ca 1925 view of Cranbrook House shows the exterior window of the aviary, covered with a cabana striped awning, between the bay window of the office and the library wing. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.

Eventually, the Booth’s gave Mack and Jack to the Belle Isle Zoo. The canaries remained for a time, cared for by one of the maids, Harriet. When she retired, the aviary was disassembled and the window was reused as a kitchen window for Brookside School, where it remains.

For my holiday display, I’ve opened the door to the aviary and staged a scene as if Mack and Jack were just here: destroying a book and leaving their feathers all around. You can find the canaries enjoying themselves around the Christmas Tree.

IMG_0798Also on display in the office, is a series of birds that Booth could have seen on his many walks around the Cranbrook estate–hawks, cardinals, robins, and plenty of ducks (on loan to me from Cranbrook Institute of Science). All are native to Michigan, except for the pheasant which would have been introduced to the area by early settlers. Pheasants, however, love fallow fields and run-down farms—exactly what the land which became Cranbrook was when Booth purchased the property in 1904!

IMG_0799Alongside the taxidermy I’ve included pieces from the Cranbrook Archives: early copies of Institute bulletins on the Birds of Michigan, original artwork from an ornithogist working at Cranbrook in the 1930s, and photographs and short biographies of other bird-related Cranbrook people, like W. Bryant Tyrrell, Walter P. Nickell, and Edmund J. Sawyer.

Come and see the Office display this weekend (December 1-3) for the House and Gardens Auxiliary’s Holiday Splendor event (Friday, 10-4pm, Saturday 9-4pm, and Sunday 12-4pm), visit it with me next Wednesday before or after the Center’s Järnefelt Piano Trio: Jean Sibelius Concert, or at any of the other Cranbrook House events before January 8th.

Kevin Adkisson, 2016-2018 Collections Fellow, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research

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