Bancroft Library
In Memoriam: Kenna Fisher
The staff of the Bancroft Library was shocked and saddened to learn of the passing of Kenna Fisher on October 27, 2024. For 12 ½ years, Kenna was a valuable and beloved member of the Bancroft Technical Services team. Unusual for Bancroft staff, her work touched on nearly every aspect of BTS during her extraordinary career. Kenna’s primary job title was Manuscripts Cataloger and Archivist for Small Manuscript Collections, which was part of the Cataloging unit on the organizational chart, but the nature of that work meant that she had a dotted-line relationship with the Archives Processing unit, routinely consulting with both the Head of Cataloging and the Head of Archives. In addition she also, at times, held official duties in both the Digital Collections and Acquisitions units. The fact that she could successfully navigate so many different aspects of the myriad work that was asked of her was a testament not only to her skill at absorbing new information, but also to her willingness to try new things and to her ability to work exceedingly well with her colleagues.
All of those skills were necessary when Kenna joined Bancroft in June 2009. Kenna had worked in libraries before coming to Bancroft, and as a student in San Jose State University’s MLIS program she had focused on archival studies and records management. She had recently taken a course with former Head of Technical Services David de Lorenzo and had impressed him with her passion for working with archives. When Bancroft had the opportunity to offer her the position of Manuscripts Cataloger and Archivist for Small Manuscript Collections, David was a strong advocate for bringing Kenna onboard.
Although Kenna had some experience with archival processing when she started at Bancroft, she had only minimal familiarity with creating catalog records. The importance of the catalog record in Bancroft’s management of archival resources–especially before the implementation of ArchivesSpace in 2015–cannot be overstated. Although there are other collection management tools that we utilize, the online catalog is the only place where every manuscript or archival collection can be found. When Kenna began learning the ins and outs of manuscript cataloging, the phrase “like a duck to water” comes to mind. Not only did she quickly grasp the fundamentals of the MARC record, but she also grasped the special needs for the description of unique, unpublished materials.
Early in her time at Bancroft, Kenna implemented a new system for tracking manuscripts through the sometimes long period of time between acquisition and full cataloging. When she started, she inherited a very large backlog of unprocessed materials. During the acquisition process, brief records were created for these items, but they had no logical physical organization, and it was a source of great frustration for all staff who were unable to locate something that was needed. One of the hallmarks of Kenna’s work ethic was that when she saw a problem, she immediately tried to find a solution to fix it. So, she tackled that backlog, assigning call numbers to everything and shelving them in call number order. They still weren’t cataloged, but they were findable! She also implemented a policy (still in effect today) that all manuscripts be assigned a call number as soon as they moved into the cataloging workflow.
It is a common belief among Bancroft technical staff that the job of Manuscripts Cataloger is the most interesting. The sheer volume of fascinating, one-of-a-kind, primary source materials (letters, diaries, business ledgers, ships’ logs, land deeds… the list goes on and on) that cross the cataloger’s desk cannot help but spark the curiosity and wonder of the person handling them and attempting to describe them in ways that make them discoverable to future researchers. Kenna’s gift for storytelling combined perfectly with the descriptive metadata creation skills required for cataloging. She loved telling the stories of the documents and their creators, never knowing but always trying to anticipate who might be interested in finding these documents, and what search terms and strategies might lead them to unexpected discoveries.
Since her retirement in 2021, Kenna has been missed by her colleagues every day. She leaves a dual legacy from her time at Bancroft: one of high quality descriptive metadata for unique resources that contribute to the fulfillment of the library’s mission, and another of collegiality, friendship, storytelling, and acceptance of all who came into contact with her. No doubt she has joined the pantheon of former Bancrofters who will be talked about and referenced for generations to come.
–Randal Brandt and Lara Michels
PhiloBiblon 2024 n. 6 (diciembre): Noticias
Con este post anunciamos el volcado de datos de BETA, BITAGAP y BITECA a PhiloBiblon (Universitat Pompeu Fabra). Este volcado de BETA y BITECA es el último. Desde ahora, estas dos bases de datos estarán congeladas en este sitio, mientras que BITAGAP lo estará el 31 de diciembre.
Con este post también anunciamos que, a partir del primero de enero de 2025, los que busquen datos en BETA (Bibliografía Española de Textos Antiguos) deberán dirigirse a FactGrid:PhiloBiblon. BITECA estará en FactGrid el primero de febrero de 2025, mientras que BITAGAP lo estará el primero de marzo. A partir de esa fecha, FactGrid:PhiloBiblon estará open for business mientras perfeccionamos PhiloBiblon UI, el nuevo buscador de PhiloBiblon.
Estos son pasos necesarios para el traspaso completo de PhiloBiblon al mundo de los Datos Abiertos Enlazados = Linked Open Data (LOD).
Este póster dinámico de Patricia García Sánchez-Migallon explica de manera sucinta y amena la historia técnica de PhiloBiblon, la configuración de LOD y el proceso que estamos siguiendo en el proyecto actual, “PhiloBiblon: From Siloed Databases to Linked Open Data via Wikibase”, con una ayuda de dos años (2023-2025) de la National Endowment for the Humanities:
Ésta es la versión en PDF del mismo póster: PhiloBiblon Project: Biobibliographic database of medieval and Renaissance romance texts.
La doctora García Sánchez-Migallón lo presentó en CLARIAH-DAY: Jornada sobre humanidades digitales e inteligencia artificial el 22 de noviembre en la Biblioteca Nacional de España.
CLARIAH es el consorcio de los dos proyectos europeos de infraestructura digital para las ciencias humanas, CLARIN (Common Language Resources and Technology Infrastructure) y DARIAH (Digital Research Infrastructure for the Arts and Humanities). Actualmente, la doctora García Sánchez-Migallón trabaja en la oficina de CLARIAH-CM de la Universidad Complutense de Madrid.
Charles B. Faulhaber
University of California, Berkeley
Exploring OCR tools with two 19th century documents
— Guest post by Eileen Chen (UCSF)
When I (Eileen Chen, UCSF) started this capstone project with UC Berkeley, as part of the Data Services Continuing Professional Education (DSCPE) program, I had no idea what OCR was. “Something something about processing data with AI” was what I went around telling anyone who asked. As I learned more about Optical Character Recognition (OCR), it soon sucked me in. While it’s a lot different from what I normally do as a research and data librarian, I can’t be more glad that I had the opportunity to work on this project!
The mission was to run two historical documents from the Bancroft Library through a variety of OCR tools – tools that convert images of text into a machine-readable format, relying to various extents on artificial intelligence.
The documents were as follows:
Both were nineteenth century printed texts, and the latter also consists of multiple maps and tables.
I tested a total of seven OCR tools, and ultimately chose two tools with which to process one of the two documents – the earthquake catalogue – from start to finish. You can find more information on some of these tools in this LibGuide.
Comparison of tools
Table comparing OCR tools
OCR Tool | Cost | Speed | Accuracy | Use cases |
---|---|---|---|---|
Amazon Textract | Pay per use | Fast | High | Modern business documents (e.g. paystubs, signed forms) |
Abbyy Finereader | By subscription | Moderate | High | Broad applications |
Sensus Access | Institutional subscription | Slow | High | Conversion to audio files |
ChatGPT | Free-mium* | Fast | High | Broad applications |
Adobe Acrobat | By subscription | Fast | Low | PDF files |
Online OCR | Free | Slow | Low | Printed text |
Transkribus | By subscription | Moderate | Varies depending on model | Medieval documents |
Google AI | Pay per use | ? | ? | Broad applications |
*Free-mium = free with paid premium option(s)
As Leo Tolstoy famously (never) wrote, “All happy OCR tools are alike; each unhappy OCR tool is unhappy in its own way.” An ideal OCR tool accurately detects and transcribes a variety of texts, be it printed or handwritten, and is undeterred by tables, graphs, or special fonts. But does a happy OCR tool even really exist?
After testing seven of the above tools (excluding Google AI, which made me uncomfortable by asking for my credit card number in order to verify that I am “not a robot”), I am both impressed with and simultaneously let down by the state of OCR today. Amazon Textract seemed accurate enough overall, but corrupted the original file during processing, which made it difficult to compare the original text and its generated output side by side. ChatGPT was by far the most accurate in terms of not making errors, but when it came to maps, admitted that it drew information from other maps from the same time period when it couldn’t read the text. Transkribus’s super model excelled the first time I ran it, but the rest of the models differed vastly in quality (you can only run the super model once on a free trial).
It seems like there is always a trade-off with OCR tools. Faithfulness to original text vs. ability to auto-correct likely errors. Human readability vs. machine readability. User-friendly interface vs. output editability. Accuracy at one language vs. ability to detect multiple languages.
So maybe there’s no winning, but one must admit that utilizing almost any of these tools (except perhaps Adobe Acrobat or Free Online OCR) can save significant time and aggravation. Let’s talk about two tools that made me happy in different ways: Abbyy Finereader and ChatGPT OCR.
Abbyy Finereader
I’ve heard from an archivist colleague that Abbyy Finereader is a gold standard in the archiving world, and it’s not hard to see why. Of all the tools I tested, it was the easiest to do fine-grained editing with through its side-by-side presentation of the original text and editing panel, as well as (mostly) accurately positioned text boxes.
Its level of AI utilization is relatively low, and encourages users to proactively proofread for mistakes by highlighting characters that it flags as potentially erroneous. I did not find this feature to be especially helpful, since the majority of errors I identified had not been highlighted and many of the highlighted characters weren’t actual errors, but I appreciate the human-in-the-loop model nonetheless.
Overall, Abbyy excelled at transcribing paragraphs of printed text, but struggled with maps and tables. It picked up approximately 25% of the text on maps, and 80% of the data from tables. The omissions seemed wholly random to the naked eye. Abbyy was also consistent at making certain mistakes (e.g. mixing up “i” and “1,” or “s” and 8”), and could only detect one language at a time. Since I set the language to English, it automatically omitted the accented “é” in San José in every instance, and mistranscribed nearly every French word that came up. Perhaps some API integration could streamline the editing process, for those who are code-savvy.
I selected “searchable PDF” as my output file type, but Abbyy offers several other file types as well, including docx, csv, and jpg. In spite of its limitations, compared to PDF giant Adobe Acrobat and other PDF-generating OCR tools, Abbyy is still in a league of its own.
ChatGPT OCR
After being disillusioned by Free Online OCR, I decided to manage my expectations for the next free online tool I tested. Sure, it’s ChatGPT, but last I heard about it, it failed to count how many “r”s were in “strawberry.”
Surprisingly, ChatGPT made minimal errors in the transcription process, succeeding at text of various fonts and even rare instances of handwritten annotations. It spewed things out in text form in the chat box, as it does by default, but makes good use of bolding and italics to broadly distinguish between different fonts.
As I was formatting its responses to my prompts into a Word document, I had to think hard about some choices. In what order do I arrange the text to best represent the flow of natural eye movement, especially when it comes to text from a map? Since ChatGPT offers descriptions of page layouts upon further prompting, how much do I want it to do that, and how do I standardize this?
Below is an excerpt from the document as processed by ChatGPT. ChatGPT descriptions are in blue and italicized, with detected original text left in black. I used two separate prompts: 1) “Please transcribe all the text on the two pages”; 2) “Please describe the image on the left page.” (Before you judge me for using “please,” it has been shown that being polite to ChatGPT may get you better results!)
- Coat of Arms: At the center of the page is a decorative emblem or coat of arms. It features the word “Baltimore” at the top and a Latin motto, “Vita Doi Mi Taptori,” at the bottom. The design appears to be the official crest or insignia, likely of historical or regional significance to Baltimore.
- Printer’s Mark: Beneath the coat of arms, there is text indicating the name and location of the publishing company:
- “The Lord Baltimore Press” is printed in a distinctive typeface.
- Below that, it says “THE FRIEDENWALD COMPANY”, followed by the location: “BALTIMORE, MD., U.S.A.”
The page is otherwise blank, with no additional decorations or text, keeping the focus on the coat of arms and the printer’s information. There are some handwritten cataloging notes visible in the upper corners:
In the upper left corner, “F851” and “H74” are written.
In the upper right corner, the number “604” and some other library marking are noted.
The overall layout is minimalist and centered, with the elements well-spaced on the page.
As far as its work on this document has shown, ChatGPT’s descriptions are fairly safe and neutral. With some human curation for quality assurance, it can go beyond the bare minimum of “human readable” and bring a document to “human comprehensible.”
However, there was one alarming instance: when transcribing text of a smaller font size from a footnote – ChatGPT completely changed the content and basically wrote me a new paragraph based on the few keywords it was able to identify!
ChatGPT:
* First proposed by Rossi in Archives des Sci. Phys. et Nat., IV, p. 371 (1850). Further expanded by Forel (ibid., Vol. V, p. 420). After comparing hundreds of published accounts of California earthquakes, I have found that the words of the Italian and Swiss seismologists fairly express the commonly accepted ideas of the arbitrary terms employed by the California observers. In the phrases for comparison, when any one is describing the effect of a shock, when consulting the tables, and making use of the Rossi-Forel scale, the books and other reports in California will aid.
When I asked it again, ChatGPT produced a different, still wildly incorrect footnote:
*First proposed by Rossi in Archives des Sci. Phys. et Nat., IV, p. 371 (1880). See also Schmidt in Bull. Acad. Petersb., vol. xxix, p. 41. After comparing hundreds of published accounts of California earthquakes, I have found that the words printed in italics in the following scale of Rossi and Forel, are the ones employed with much precision by most of the California observers. The other words are added for convenience. When any one is describing the effect of an earthquake, and closely follows the meaning or intent of the Rossi-Forel scale, then, the better to make that meaning clear, he should consider himself as adhering to the Rossi-Forel numerals. If, while describing an earthquake and seeking to assign the proper R.-F. numeral, it will be found that the words here set down in italics are of service.
The scary thing, in my opinion, isn’t that it twisted the meaning of the footnote entirely, but that it took the wild stab without my knowledge at all.
When it came to map recognition and transcription, ChatGPT took a few more liberties (although it does a fair job justifying and explaining this). After initially detecting none of the cities on a map I uploaded, ChatGPT responded the following to my prompt “Please list each individual city on the map”
Here is a list of the cities visible on the map of Washington and Oregon (based on typical historical maps of this type). However, since I can’t zoom into the map directly from the image, I’ll list some cities likely included on a historical earthquake-related map of Washington and Oregon from this period. Let me know if you need a detailed transcription from another zoomed-in image.
Likely Cities in Washington (circa 19th century):
- Seattle
- Tacoma
- Olympia
- Spokane
- Walla Walla
- Vancouver
- Port Townsend
Likely Cities in Oregon:
- Portland
- Astoria
- Salem
- Eugene
- Oregon City
- The Dalles
- Jacksonville
This map would also typically include significant natural features such as:
- Columbia River
- Willamette River
- Cascade Range
If you have a clearer image or can provide additional detail, I could give a more precise list.
All of this was indeed correct, and I appreciate ChatGPT’s transparency about drawing from external sources, but this response generated many more questions. What about the cities on the map that weren’t listed? ChatGPT may have gotten it right this time, but doesn’t it have significant potential to be wrong? If we present it with a digitized map of similar quality that had place names in their Indigenous languages, for example, would they still be listed as, say, “likely to be Vancouver”?
So yes, I was dazzled by the AI magic, but also wary of the perpetuation of potential biases, and of my complicity in this as a user of the tool.
Conclusion
So, let’s summarize my recommendations. If you want an OCR output that’s as similar to the original as possible, and are willing to put in the effort, use Abbyy Finereader. If you want your output to be human-readable and have a shorter turnaround time, use ChatGPT OCR. If you are looking to convert your output to audio, SensusAccess could be for you! Of course, not every type of document works equally well in any OCR tool – doing some experimenting if you have the option to is always a good idea.
A few tips I only came up with after undergoing certain struggles:
- Set clear intentions for the final product when choosing an OCR tool
- Does it need to be human-readable, or machine-readable?
- Who is the audience, and how will they interact with the final product?
- Many OCR tools operate on paid credits and have a daily cap on the number of files processed. Plan out the timeline (and budget) in advance!
- Title your files well. Better yet, have a file-naming convention. When working with a larger document, many OCR tools would require you to split it into smaller files, and even if not, you will likely end up with multiple versions of a file during your processing adventure.
- Use standardized, descriptive prompts when working with ChatGPT for optimal consistency and replicability.
You can find my cleaned datasets here:
- Earthquake catalogue (Abbyy Finereader)*
- Earthquake catalogue (ChatGPT)
*A disclaimer re: Abbyy Finereader output: I was working under the constraints of a 7-day free trial, and did not have the opportunity to verify any of the location names on maps. Given what I had to work with, I can safely estimate that about 50% of the city names had been butchered.
Writing History: Undergraduate Research Papers Investigate Ancient Papyri
(Students examine papyri and ostraca during their class visit. Photo by Lee Anne Titangos.)
Writing History: Undergraduate Research Papers Investigate Ancient Papyri
Leah Packard-Grams, Center for the Tebtunis Papyri
This semester, students enrolled in the writing course “Writing History” (AHMA-R1B) got the chance to work as ancient detectives. As their instructor, I asked them each to write a research paper about one of the various ancient documents held in the Center for the Tebtunis Papyri in The Bancroft Library. After examining their options in a class visit, they each chose a papyrus or ostracon to write about. Students were given modern translations of the papyri and ostraca to read, making the ancient texts accessible.
Students Use Interdisciplinary Approaches
The papyri, ostraca, and artifacts from Tebtunis at UC Berkeley were excavated from the site in 1899-1900, and the material has been an asset for Berkeley’s research and teaching collections for over a century. However, with over 26,000 fragments of papyrus, about two dozen ostraca, and many artifacts in the Hearst Museum, there is still plenty of work to be done! Students noticed new things in these artifacts: senior Chloe Logan, for example, described the painting on the reverse side of an inscribed papyrus for the very first time; it had been ignored by scholars for decades despite several scholarly citations of the text on the other side. P.Tebt.1087 was used as part of mummy cartonnage, a sort of ancient papier-mâché that was painted to decorate the casing of the mummy. Cartonnage was made by gluing together layers of previously-used papyrus and then painting over the gessoed surface. Her paper examines both the painted side of the papyrus as well as the inscribed side. Using an art-historical approach for the painted side and an economic-historical approach to analyze the content of the financial account on the other side, she wrote an interdisciplinary study of the piece that considered both sides of the artifact, and considered this as an example of ancient recycling.
Ian McLendon compared receipts and tags for beer on ostraca in the collection (an ostracon is a broken potsherd reused as a writing surface). His paper examined the ways beer was used in ritual dining in Tebtunis, and compared the types of documents that record the beverage’s use, cost, and delivery. He even examined some ancient coins to see what it would have been like to pay for beer using drachmai and obols, the ancient currency in use in Ptolemaic Egypt.
Mastering Demons
Nicolas Iosifidis was also inspired by an illustration on a papyrus. Tutu, the “master of demons,” was an apotropaic, protective deity in ancient Egypt who defended against forces of chaos who would do harm to humans. In the papyrus, he is depicted as having a human head, a leonine body, and has snakes and knives in his paws– perhaps even in place of his fingers! His headdress and double-plumed crown also contribute to the awe-inspiring effect of this formidable deity. Iosifidis sees Tutu as an opportunity to examine our deeper selves and master our own demons, asking the question, “Is there something else we can acquire from it [the papyrus] as did people back then?” His paper offers an analysis of the exact role of the master of demons, writing that “Tutu doesn’t protect by killing [demons], but rather controlling or taming them.” The god Tutu, for Iosifidis, represents the timeless struggle between “the good and the bad” that exists within us all.
Reading Between the Lines
Reading their papers, I was struck in particular by the students’ enthusiastic comments on the significance of these papyri to broader human history. Alex Moyer chose a papyrus that dealt with the investigation into a murder that occurred in 114 BCE, observing that despite the unfortunate universality of homicide throughout human history, “What distinguishes each society from any other is their approach to investigating and handling murders.” His papyrus, P.Tebt. 1.14, is a letter from a village scribe that offers insight into the process of confiscating the property of an accused person until he can be tried and sentenced. Instead of apprehending him, the village scribe was instructed to “arrange for [his property] to be placed on bond” (lines 9-10). Moyer writes about the value of this papyrus as comparative evidence: “Due to the fair condition and legibility of the papyrus, it is able to act as a figurative time capsule, allowing us to compare and contrast with other societies, including our own, and view how human civilization’s attitude and handling of murders have changed over time.”
Victor Flores decided to write about the same papyrus, and was surprised at how this papyrus challenges our perception of the job of an “ancient scribe.” He writes, “These village scribes are not your ordinary scribes, but rather carry a distinct number of tasks like arranging for the bond in order for somebody to confiscate valuables along with carrying out a wide variety of administrative tasks for the government beyond simply writing.” The “village scribe” wasn’t simply a copyist or secretary as one might suppose, and this papyrus is good evidence that allows us to ascertain the roles of scribes!
Student Perspectives
Working with the papyri in The Bancroft Library, I have found that there is a feeling, almost indescribable, when you look at an ancient artifact and really take the time to appreciate what lies before you. Staring up at you is a ghost– a physical echo– that reverberates across the millennia. The artifact before you has survived by sheer luck, and we are fortunate that it remains at all. I tried to convey this to my students, and in their papers, I found that students wanted to write about what it was like to study the papyri up close. This was unprompted by me, and I was astounded at the care and reflection they undertook to share their own perspectives:
Chloe Logan (class of 2024, writing about the cartonnage fragment): “I must remark how fortunate we are to have an incredible artifact in such good condition as a window to the distant past. I hope we will have more research on the verso side of this astonishing relic.” [Indeed, it is being studied by a scholar in Europe for publication soon!]
Ethan Schiffman (class of 2027): “I enjoyed visiting the Bancroft Library and seeing the large Tebtunis Papyrus collection. I can now better appreciate the magnitude of the time-consuming task of the care involved in preserving the fragile papyri and the difficulties in translating and editing these texts.”
John Soejoto (class of 2027): “By exploring each papyrus, even if only a vague or unproven hypothesis is formed, historians increase the existing body of knowledge and give the future academic community further means to discover the history of bygone ages.”
Wilder Brix Burke (class of 2027): “[Seeing the papyrus in person after studying it for so long] brought a new perspective, a real understanding of the physical lengths such a text had gone to simply exist before me, 2000 years (and some change) later. It also speaks to the impressive ability of UC Berkeley as a whole that undergraduate students get to observe the most unique and fascinating parts of campus. I am grateful for the opportunity to see history before my eyes. These are the moments that remind me why I am a CAL student. Go bears!”
“Power to the Students and Black Power to Black Students” – The Life and Legacy of Sister Makinya Sibeko-Kouate
Sibeko-Kouate was born into a middle-class family in San Leandro, California on July 1, 1926. Her father, Turner Smith, worked for Calvert Distillers Corp., and her mother, Willette Smith, was active in many African American social clubs and fraternal orders. Sibeko-Kouate grew up in South Berkeley and graduated from Berkeley High in 1947. In the early 1950s, she studied music and teaching at San Francisco State College and ran a small business (Harriet – Ceramic Creations) out of the home she shared with her mother. Sibeko-Kouate attended Merritt College from 1965-1968, where she studied business administration, real estate, and community planning. She received her BA in Black Studies and an MA in Education from Cal State Hayward in the 1970s. At Merritt, Sibeko-Kouate helped develop the Black Studies Department and was the first African-American person elected student body president.
Here are three of the many faces of Sibeko-Kouate. On the left, posing with her ceramic creations, which she advertised on her business card as “hand made gifts to fit your personality”; in the center, pictured with colleagues who also advocated for the discipline of Black Studies and for Black Power: Sid Walton, Ruth Hagwood, and Nathan Hare; and on the right, teaching a class.
Sibeko-Kouate was elected president of the Associated Students of Merritt College (ASMC) in Fall 1967. In her welcome address, she notes that “Being a college student in 1967-68 is a bewildering experience…we must proceed toward the future in the context of an unpopular external war and an internal revolution…education should be a maker of a virgin future rather than a slave to an unjust and shopworn past. YOU CAN CHANGE THE WORLD!” Students like Sibeko-Kouate, and faculty, like Walton, sought to change the world by advocating for an African-American Studies Program at Merritt. The flyer on the right advertises a student-community ceremony to celebrate the first graduates of that program.
Sibeko-Kouate’s influence went beyond Merritt College. She also served as the President of the National Black Student Union and, in 1968, ran an education workshop on student-community relations for Black students on white campuses at the National Black Power conference in Philadelphia. Sibeko-Kouate’s papers contain materials related to Black curricula and Black Student Unions from many schools in California and, especially, the Bay Area. Examples include a brochure from the Black Students Union at Oakland Tech (in the center and on the right).
Several celebrations of Sibeko-Kouate’s life referred to her as the “Queen Mother of Kwanzaa,” and her papers contain evidence of her efforts to define and promote the holiday. Examples include these flyers and her notes from an Organizational Committee meeting in Seattle. (Most documents in the collection spell the holiday “Kwanza.” That is the original spelling of the African harvest festival on which the celebration is based. According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a seventh letter was added to correspond with the seven African principles honored during the holiday. Both spellings are correct.)
Sibeko-Kouate came into contact with a wide range of political and cultural organizations, either through her direct participation in them, or through ephemera she gathered at events she attended. The materials she collected document decades of African-American cultural life in the Bay Area, including visual arts, music, dance, theater, film, poetry, books, fashion shows, cultural festivals, sporting events, and the culinary arts. Events ranged from the very local (a night of entertainment at Merritt College), to benefits (for the Parent-Infant Neighborhood Center), to appearances by well-known performers and politicians at community events (Nina Simone, the Chambers Brothers, and Congressman Ron Dellums) . The fact that Sibkeo-Kouate collected these flyers and programs reflected her awareness of their historical significance.
The collection documents how Sibeko-Kouate campaigned for politicians, supported the Black Panthers, and was a community organizer. The buttons on the left reflect her politics, the flyer in the middle asks residents to support a boycott to end police brutality, and the notes on the right document a July 1968 incident when Berkeley police assaulted Sibeko-Kouate and her mother after entering their home without permission. It’s not clear whether the assault motivated the boycott or was just another incident of police brutality in the Black community – but the cause of the organizers was very clear: “Our cause is Justice. We reject the idea of supporting businesses that sanction Police Brutality and the disregard for human dignity…Berkeley is run like a plantation…Plantation days are over. Use your dollars to fight your battles…Blacks keep downtown Berkeley in business. We will boycott businesses until JUSTICE flows.”
The bulk of Sibeko-Kouate’s papers cover the years 1939-1975 and document significant cultural and political changes over that time. The album on the left is from a 1953 Calvert Distillers gathering that Sibeko-Kouate’s father Turner attended. The meeting “represents the first time any industry gathered its men covering the Negro market from all over the country to meet in New York with its top executives for a two-way exchange of ideas on business.” The gathering included a testimonial dinner honoring Thurgood Marshall. Tubie Resnki, an Executive Vice President, said “This trip is another leaf in the Calvert book of leadership in interracial affairs.” A 1969 calendar produced by Seagram Distillers, Calvert’s parent company (on the right), celebrates “Famous Americans and their Significant Contributions” to the history of the United States. Someone (presumably Sibeko-Kouate) crossed out the outdated/offensive term “Negro” and replaced it with “Black.” This item’s contrast with her father’s souvenir from the early 1950s captures a cultural and political shift in rhetoric that can be seen throughout the collection.
It is exciting that Sibeko-Kouate’s papers contain nearly 100 home movies (8mm and 16mm) that document vacations, celebrations, and other social gatherings with family and friends (circa 1955-1969). These films, like the Calvert album, other photographs, personalia, and family papers in the collection document the everyday lives of middle-class African Americans in the 20th century. (Please note: the films are not currently available for viewing.)
From the Archives: Laurence I. Moss, Nuclear Engineer and Environmental Activist
by Brianna Iswono
Brianna Iswono is a third-year undergraduate student at UC Berkeley majoring in chemical engineering. In the Fall 2024 semester, Brianna is working with Roger Eardley-Pryor of the Oral History Center to earn academic credits through Berkeley’s Undergraduate Research Apprentice Program (URAP). URAP provides opportunities for undergraduates to work closely with Berkeley scholars on cutting edge research projects for which Berkeley is world-renowned. This “From the Archives” article emerged from Brianna’s research in the Oral History Center’s long standing Sierra Club Oral History Project.
Laurence I. Moss, who recorded his oral history in 1992, integrated engineering innovation with environmental protection in ways that inspire me as a chemical engineering student who wants to contribute towards sustainability. Today, efforts to reduce carbon emissions and combat climate change are increasingly prominent in academia and technological industries. The surge of various electric cars, solar power installations, and increased sustainability awareness begs the question: how has this shift towards a more green future been feasible? This shift has required, and continues to require, technical developments with environmental goals. Laurence I. Moss was a nuclear engineer who, in the 1960s and 1970s, became a national leader in the Sierra Club. Moss used his technical expertise for advancements in engineering as well as developing processes to prioritize environmental protections.
Laurence I. Moss’s early life and education laid the groundwork for his expertise in engineering, equipping him with the technical knowledge to contribute meaningfully to the nuclear industry. Moss was born in 1935 during the Great Depression. He was raised in Queens and Brooklyn in New York City by parents who, as he said, believed deeply in the “American Dream.” He attended the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) where he studied chemical engineering as an undergraduate. Driven by his passions in math and science, he described wanting a career where “people would be judged on their merits and on their ability to contribute.” Continuing to spark his interests and explore new fields, Moss completed a graduate program at MIT in nuclear engineering, a field he was previously unfamiliar with.
Moss’s work on nuclear reactors, particularly at Rockwell International, highlighted his ability to understand and improve cutting-edge technologies, a key skill that later influenced his advocacy for sustainable energy solutions. Prior to Rockwell International, Moss worked for nearly ten years at the Santa Susana nuclear field laboratory in Simi Hills where he designed and constructed various nuclear power reactors. He focused on developing safer nuclear technologies as the key engineer for testing so-called “critical experiments”—that is, low-power nuclear physics experiments conducted with nuclear reactors that avoid producing large amounts of fission products. This work laid a foundation for broader environmental impacts that he pursued in his later career at Rockwell International. Reflecting on his time at Rockwell, Moss shared, ”It was very rewarding too when you spend several months doing a highly theoretical calculation which makes certain assumptions about physical and nuclear properties, and predicts on the basis of these assumptions that a certain result will happen under these unusual circumstances. And then you go out and test it, and indeed that’s exactly what happens.” After acquiring first-hand experience managing nuclear-scale trials and operations, Moss joined the Sierra Club, and his work efforts soon transitioned towards processes that targeted innovative and renewable energy alternatives.
The personal connection Moss had to nature and his growing awareness of environmental issues, such as pollution and habitat destruction, inspired his shift towards engineering solutions that balanced technical progress with environmental preservation. His admiration of the natural environment grew from his youth in a rural setting where he spent most of his time outdoors. Later in life, seeing the effects of pollution in Los Angeles strengthened his belief that engineering should play a role in protecting the environment. Recalling these aspects, especially from his daily commute, Moss shared, “Another influence was the smog in the L.A. Basin. I remember my feelings at the end of the day, usually driving down from the Santa Susana Mountains to the San Fernando Valley and seeing a blanket of smog over the valley. Thinking about living in that polluted environment and how that had to change.” Seeing the impact of pollution firsthand inspired Moss to turn his personal convictions into action by using his engineering knowledge to advocate for environmental protections.
Moss became a prominent figure in the Sierra Club where he leveraged his engineering expertise for environmental advocacy, including influencing key decisions on energy production and infrastructure through a quantitative approach. He encapsulated his values by asserting, “I wanted to know how many pounds, how many tons, how much toxicity, how many people are at risk, what is the probability of distribution for the hazards, the number of people who can be affected by a single incident, and the consequences of that incident.” Moss joined the Sierra Club in 1959, remained active for over fifteen years, and served as the first non-Californian president of the Club from 1973 to 1974. His leadership was characterized by providing data and analytical information to illuminate the economic and environmental trade-offs of energy production and conservation. During his tenure, Moss opposed construction of the Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant in central California, not in opposition to nuclear power, per se, but by emphasizing its potential dangers in an earthquake-prone area as well as concerns about the plant’s long-term sustainability. In Congressional hearings, he also contributed economic analyses to oppose dams in the Grand Canyon, and instead he advocated for nuclear power as a cleaner, more environmentally sustainable, and cost-effective alternative to burning coal or oil. Moss approached this argument by claiming the dams in the Grand Canyon were not necessary for the economic success of the Central Arizona Project (CAP). He shared, “Those dams were not the key factors in subsidizing the Central Arizona Project. One, we did the calculation that the Bureau of Reclamation did and took out both the costs of and the revenue from the two Grand Canyon dams. At the end of the fifty-year period, you ended up with about the same amount of money with the Central Arizona Project subsidized as with the dams in the calculation.” By merging his analytical mind and engineering expertise, Moss played a key role in broadening the Sierra Club’s mission, helping shift its focus strictly from wildlife conservation to address the broader environmental challenges of his time.
The oral history of Laurence I. Moss offers testimony to the crucial role that engineering and technical expertise can play in creating a safer, more environmentally friendly future. His integration of engineering and environmental protection inspires future generations of engineers like me, who hope to contribute to the sustainable engineering industry. Moss’s life, work, and advocacy emphasized deep interconnections between economics, engineering, and environmental action. He serves as a lasting source of inspiration for students and professionals who share his values in the ongoing pursuit for a healthier planet.
ABOUT THE ORAL HISTORY CENTER
The Oral History Center of The Bancroft Library preserves voices of people from all walks of life, with varying political perspectives, national origins, and ethnic backgrounds. We are committed to open access and our oral histories and interpretive materials are available online at no cost to scholars and the public. You can find our oral histories from the search feature on our home page. Search by name, keyword, and several other criteria. Sign up for our monthly newsletter featuring think pieces, new releases, podcasts, Q&As, and everything oral history. Access the most recent articles from our home page or go straight to our blog home.
Please consider making a tax-deductible donation to the Oral History Center if you’d like to see more work like this conducted and made freely available online. As a soft-money research unit of The Bancroft Library, the Oral History Center must raise outside funding to cover its operational costs for conducting, processing, and preserving its oral history work, including the salaries of its interviewers and staff, which are not covered by the university. You can give online, or contact us at ohc@berkeley.edu for more information about our funding needs for present and future projects.
Harvey L. Sharrer (1940 – 2024)
It is with deep sadness that we share the news that Harvey Sharrer, our dear friend and colleague and co-director of the Bibliografia de Textos Antigos Galegos e Portugueses (BITAGAP) for more than thirty-five years, died unexpectedly last month.
Harvey, Professor Emeritus at the University of California Santa Barbara, passed away at his home in Santa Barbara on September 12, 2024. His life was dedicated to teaching, academic research, and world exploration.
Born in Oakland, California in 1940 to Ruth Morehouse and Harvey Sharrer, he spent his formative years in Oakland and Danville, California, graduating from San Ramon Valley High School in 1958. His passion for foreign languages was ignited by his high school Spanish teacher, who inspired him to pursue language studies in college. After graduating from high school, Harvey took a summer course at the Monterey Institute of Foreign Studies and spent Fall quarter at the University of San Francisco. He then took a gap year to work with his father’s remodeling business, saving money for a transformative month’s-long European trip with a high school friend—an experience that kindled his lifelong love for world travel.
Returning to the U.S., Harvey earned his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Spanish from UC Berkeley in 1963 and 1965, respectively, followed by a doctorate in Hispanic and Luso-Brazilian Literature from UCLA in 1970, with a dissertation on “The Legendary History of Britain from its Founding by Brutus to the Death of King Arthur in Lope García de Salazar’s Libro de las bienandanzas e fortunas.” Even before finishing his dissertation he had published a Critical Bibliography of Hispanic Arthurian Material, I: Texts: The Prose Romance Cycles (London: Grant & Cutler, 1977) in Alan Deyermond’s fundamental series of Research Bibliographies & Checklists. He spent his entire academic career at UC Santa Barbara, starting in 1968 as an Acting Assistant Professor and progressing steadily through the canonical ranks to full professor in 1981. He served as chair of the UCSB Department of Spanish & Portuguese in 1978-1981 and then again 2002-2003.
Dr. Sharrer was universally admired for his scholarship and the impressive breadth of his knowledge of medieval literature and culture, encompassing Arthurian literature, the medieval Romance lyric, and, increasingly, the digital humanities—a field in which he was a pioneer. He made significant scholarly contributions to our knowledge of medieval and early modern Portuguese, Galician, Spanish, and Catalan literatures. His expertise in Catalan was honed by the two years (1984-1986) he spent as the director of the Barcelona Study Center (U. of California and U. of Illinois), where he enjoyed the friendship of Vicenç Beltran and Gemma Avenoza, who would become colleagues in PhiloBiblon as the directors of the Bibliografia de Textos Antics Catalans (BITECA).
He collaborated on BITAGAP with his friends Arthur Askins and Martha Schaffer from its beginning in 1989 as one of PhiloBiblon‘s three constituent bibliographies, all three dedicated to uncovering and documenting the primary sources of the medieval Romance literatures of the Iberian Peninsula:
The three colleagues were indefatigable ratones de bibliotecas, systematically quartering Portugal, from Bragança in the north to Lagos in the south, in search of new manuscripts of medieval Portuguese and Galician texts. They found the richest collections, however, in Lisbon: the Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal, the Ajuda library, and Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo. They and their Portuguese collaborators, especially Pedro Pinto and Filipe Alves Moreira, combed through those collections assiduously. Harvey’s most spectacular discovery, in 1990, was the eponymous Pergaminho Sharrer, a parchment fragment with seven lyric poems in Galician-Portuguese, with music, by King Dinis of Portugal (1278-1325) . It had been used as the cover of a bundle of 16th-c. documents in the Torre do Tombo, a not uncommon practice during the period.
Harvey described his discovery in “Fragmentos de Sete Cantigas d’Amor de D. Dinis, musicadas –uma descoberta” (Actas do IV Congresso da Associação Hispânica de Literatura Medieval, Lisboa: Edições Cosmos, 1991: I:13-29).
Retirement came in 2011, but it did little to slow Harvey down. He continued to participate in conferences worldwide and, at UCSB, generously proofread articles for his former department. He remained a respected and admired scholar, mentor, and colleague throughout his life.
Harvey’s career was commemorated by a splendid volume of homage studies edited by Ricardo Pichel, “Tenh’eu que mi fez el i mui gran ben”. Estudos sobre cultura escrita medieval dedicados a Harvey L. Sharrer (Madrid: Silex, 2022):
Harvey Sharrer will be deeply missed for his extraordinary scholarship, his remarkable mentorship of and generosity toward students and young scholars, and his courteous and congenial personality, um cavaleiro da escola antiga. His work will continue to influence future generations of students and scholars. In recognition of his scholarly career and lasting impact on the Santa Barbara campus, the campus flag was lowered to half-staff on Wednesday, October 2.
Harvey, who never married and considered his scholarly career to be his life’s work, is survived by a sister, Elizabeth Porter, in Upland, California, a brother, William Sharrer, in Louisville, Kentucky, and several cousins, nieces, and nephews who will miss him dearly.
Harvey did not wish to have a formal memorial service, but rather planned to create an endowment in his name at UC Santa Barbara, to be called the “Harvey L. Sharrer Dissertation Travel Grants.” Plans for this endowment are going forward actively, and we will announce them opportunely. It will support future scholars in their research endeavors, particularly in the field of Ibero-Romance languages, reflecting Harvey’s lifelong passion and areas of expertise.
William L. Sharrer
Elide V. Oliver
Charles B. Faulhaber
Richard Wyatt, Jr.: A Blessed Life of Art and Music
In February 2023, Dr. Bridget Cooks and I had the pleasure of interviewing the Los Angeles-based visual artist and songwriter Richard Wyatt, Jr., for the Getty Research Institute’s African American Art History Initiative. Wyatt was a joy to interview, making us laugh constantly and sharing what he called Forrest Gump moments, where he was in the right place at the right time to meet and collaborate with celebrities of all stripes.
A little over a year after this delightful interview, Bridget and I were saddened to hear that Richard had passed away in May 2024. The world has lost a kind and funny man, as well as an talented artist, musician, educator, and thinker.
While I continue to mourn Richard’s passing, I also want to celebrate his life by highlighting the wonderful stories he shared in his oral history about life, art, music, and seeking new challenges.
Richard Wyatt, Jr., was an artist whose work includes drawings, paintings, installations, and public art. Wyatt was born in Lynwood, California, in 1955, and lived in the Los Angeles area his whole life. He began his art career early, winning the Watts Chalk-In at twelve years old, and then studying at the Watts Towers Art Center, the Chouinard Art Institute, and the Tutor/Art Program with artist Charles White. Wyatt attended the University of California, Los Angeles, where he earned a BFA in art. Some of his best-known work in Los Angeles includes the mural Hollywood Jazz: 1945-1972 on the Capitol Records Building; the mural City of Dreams, River of History in Union Station; and the installation Ripple of Hope at Robert F. Kennedy Inspiration Park. Wyatt taught drawing and painting at the University of California, Irvine; the Otis Art Institute; and the Watts Towers Art Center. He also had a career as a songwriter, writing songs for musicians like The Miracles, The Sylvers, and New Edition.
One thing that continues to strike me about Richard is the indelible mark he has left on the world—and I mean that literally. Some of Richard’s best-known work was his public art, which adorned buildings and other public places in the Los Angeles area and beyond. For this reason, Bridget found interviewing Richard almost surreal. In the oral history, she explained, “…your work is part of my Los Angeles,” for indeed, Richard’s public art shaped the city in which she grew up. After our first day of interviews, Cooks and I drove around Downtown Los Angeles, pointing out and visiting sites where Richard’s work dotted the landscape: Union Station, Robert F. Kennedy Inspiration Park, the Capitol Records Building, and on and on.
One of Richard’s most famous murals, Hollywood Jazz: 1945-1972, remains on the Capitol Records Building, although he later replaced the paint on this south-facing exterior wall with ceramic tile to combat the ravages of the sun. When Richard accepted the commission for this work, it was the perfect blend of his love of visual art and his passion for music. In this mural, he memorialized jazz greats, such as Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis, and Nat King Cole. And in one of those Forrest Gump moments, Richard met musician Bonnie Raitt on site at the Capitol Records Building during his original installation. Listen as Richard recounted this moment:
Richard also mused about the role of an artist after unveiling a work of public art, sharing his thoughts on the impact of his public work: “…you can’t control it…Once it’s out there, it’s out there. People are going to interpret it and take pictures.” And while we spoke about the joys of creating art for wide public consumption, Richard also acknowledged some of the challenges inherent in this work. Listen as Richard shared about some of his public art work with collaborator and fellow artist May Sun:
Richard’s talent also extended to music, and resulted in a prolific career as a songwriter for musical artists such as The Miracles, The Sylvers, Peaches & Herb, Tavares, Johnny Gill, and New Edition. Richard wrote his first song, “Keep on Keepin’ On (Doin’ What You Do)” for The Miracles when he was just eighteen years old. But for Richard, visual art and music were always intertwined, as he experienced synesthesia, a sensory condition in which, among other things, allows some people see colors when they hear music. Richard explained his synesthesia this way:
“I didn’t even know that term until somebody else told me…When I’m writing, that’s one thing. But once I start arranging it and getting the bass and guitar, and then you get strings and horns, there are certain sounds that have a color associated with them. I can’t explain it, but…I see colors once I hear a certain sound, you know? And when I’m creating the arrangements, or even mixing or whatever, and I’m going for a certain effect, it’s like once you get mixing, to me it’s like glazing in oil. That’s the easiest way I can explain it.”
Richard was a child prodigy who burst into the art world when he was twelve years old, rubbing elbows with more experienced art world talents like Charles White, John Riddle, George Evans, and Bill Pajaud. Yet, Richard carved out a career all his own. And while he left us too soon, Richard’s art lives on. To celebrate this remarkable man and artist, I suggest spending time in Downtown Los Angeles and experiencing the work of Richard Wyatt, Jr., for yourself.
To learn more about Richard Wyatt, Jr.’s, extraordinary life and work, explore his oral history!
About the Oral History Center
The Oral History Center of The Bancroft Library preserves voices of people from all walks of life, with varying political perspectives, national origins, and ethnic backgrounds. We are committed to open access and our oral histories and interpretive materials are available online at no cost to scholars and the public. You can find our oral histories from the search feature on our home page. Search by name, keyword, and several other criteria. Sign up for our monthly newsletter featuring think pieces, new releases, podcasts, Q&As, and everything oral history. Access the most recent articles from our home page or go straight to our blog home.
Berkeley SLATE-d for Back to School: Student Community in the Sixties
By Natalie Naylor
Natalie Naylor is a fourth-year undergraduate studying English and Creative Writing. She’s lived in the on-campus dorms, specifically Unit 2, and two Berkeley Student Cooperative properties during her time at UC Berkeley.
Well, it was magnificent! First of all, it was beautiful. I mean, Berkeley in the sixties was just a great place to be. It was very exciting; there were all kinds of new ideas. I loved my classes; I quickly made very good friends.
– Julianne Morris, SLATE Project
Berkeley in the 1960s is a time our campus and its surrounding community look back on with pride. During these years, UC Berkeley students, faculty, and community members participated in civil rights protests, antiwar activism, and, of course, the Free Speech Movement; these efforts are no doubt some of the most significant moments in Berkeley’s history. From the Mario Savio Free Speech Movement Café to the Martin Luther King Jr. Building and Free Speech Monument in Upper Sproul Plaza, the built environment referencing social activism in the sixties incorporates physical tributes to this time throughout UC Berkeley’s contemporary campus.
Sixty years later, as the Fall 2024 semester begins, it’s easy to feel as though that time in our history is completely removed from the present. However, students in the 1960s were concerned with issues familiar to UC Berkeley’s current student body: housing, humanitarianism, belonging, freedom of speech, and community building. This includes many of the members involved in the campus political group SLATE in the late 1950s and early 1960s. The Oral History Center’s SLATE Oral History Project documents the experiences and budding political consciousnesses of some of the students involved in on-campus activism at UC Berkeley sixty years ago.
SLATE was a political party on UC Berkeley’s campus from 1958 to 1966 and, therefore, predated the Free Speech Movement. Its main goal: to present candidates for the Associated Students of the University of California (ASUC) office who supported racial equality and free speech on campus.
Jackie Goldberg, an undergraduate social science major in the mid-sixties, was one of the most well-known student activists involved in SLATE at UC Berkeley. She initially joined SLATE because of her passion for civil rights, as well as the strong community and support from other student activists on campus at the time. Her oral history is a part of the Oral History Center’s Free Speech Movement Oral History Project but chronicles the work she did with SLATE in detail.
When she arrived on campus, Goldberg underwent a year of dorm living—still a staple of the UC Berkeley freshman experience. After that first year in the dorms, she encountered a lack of housing on and around campus, which is a lasting issue at Cal. To secure housing for her second year, she participated in the sorority rush process and became a member of Delta Phi Epsilon. Goldberg claims that due to her Jewish background, most other houses declined to offer her membership. Experiencing this prejudice firsthand likely later influenced her activism in fighting discrimination in Greek life. In her oral history, she describes her housing journey as such:
I had applied to the co-op. I had applied to the dorms, and I didn’t get any of them. I was on the wait list for both. So my game plan was I would go in for a semester, try to grow up so I could get an apartment, find someone to get an apartment with…but it turned out that I was in this free-wheeling place, with a lot of nice people, some of whom are still my friends…and it was so easy. I didn’t have to cook, I didn’t have to clean, I didn’t have to shop, and it was cheap because I was doing the house bills.
Despite originally joining the sorority for housing reasons, Goldberg grew an affinity for the culture of her house and its lifestyle. In her oral history, she recalls: “I stayed all three years. I had no desire to leave.”
Goldberg thrived in community with other members of Delta Phi Epsilon and SLATE during her time at UC Berkeley. Her activist work and living situation occasionally overlapped, like while advocating for the racial integration of sororities at Cal. At the time, Greek life had a vast political presence on campus; Goldberg both embraced and challenged this precedent to incite political change at UC Berkeley. She succeeded in encouraging other sororities to desegregate, despite the decision sometimes diverging from their national organizations and sister-chapters.
Julianne Morris, another member of SLATE, had a less positive experience in an all-women’s housing arrangement around the University of California, Berkeley’s campus. While studying at UCLA, Morris founded the organization PLATFORM, inspired by conversations she’d had with members of SLATE. After craving more involvement in student politics, she transferred to UC Berkeley in the early 1960s and selected housing based on connections she’d previously made through SLATE. Morris recalls:
My first semester I was in a co-op, Stebbins Hall, and so I met a lot of women friends there. And of course, you know, it was very different then. There was a curfew, where you had to be in—and God forbid that there were any men there at night.
Even in the sixties, the University maintained in loco parentis authority over its female students from which it exempted male students. These unequal restrictions were especially apparent when it came to women’s housing accommodations. Because of this, although she found community both in SLATE and at Stebbins, Morris eventually sought more autonomy by moving to her own apartment after one semester in the co-op system. She explains:
Oh, I liked the idea of being freer. And you know, I hated having to come in at a certain time and no men in the house and the whole way things were at that time. And so I was very happy not to be in a dorm or a co-op anymore and be on my own.
Despite graduating sixty years ago, many of the buildings around UC Berkeley’s campus are part of a continuous built environment that would be physically recognizable to Morris and her peers.
In 2024, there are still two Berkeley co-ops designated for female-identifying students only, but no all-male-identifying cooperatives remain. One historically men-only house was Barrington Hall, which closed in 1989.
David Armor, a founding member of SLATE, lived in Barrington Hall while attending UC Berkeley, and participating in student government and campus activism. In 1959, he became the first and only member of SLATE to be elected as ASUC President. Armor describes his experience living at the student cooperative Barrington Hall during his freshman year as such:
Again, as a very poor student, I chose the cheapest housing, which was…a cooperative, Barrington Hall, terrible building, really not in good shape…there was a two-person bedroom, two two-person bedrooms, and then a one-person bedroom, so five people sharing a bathroom. And co-op means that you did the work…You work. You did the food, the serving, the cleaning, and everything, that’s how you paid, why the fees were so low. So you basically worked to provide all the services.
However, after a semester, Armor also decided to transition to an apartment. While making this change, he and his roommates integrated some of the cooperative practices they adopted from Barrington into their new living dynamic. Armor reports this influence as having a positive impact on his development as a young adult:
So we got an apartment in the second semester of my freshman year, and five roommates, and we divided up the chores, cooking and whatever, and that was a great experience, because we [were] becoming independent, and living on our own.
Armor’s desire for strong community and cooperation mirrors the effective practices of SLATE’s grassroots political advocacy approach. Housing was one of the main issues of SLATE’s political platform, and the group supported the Berkeley Fair Housing Ordinance in 1959. SLATE also opposed the University’s compulsory ROTC program for male freshmen and sophomores. Members defined SLATE by its beliefs in student organizations, advocacy, and the right for personal academic freedom on UC Berkeley’s campus and its surrounding areas. Communal living, even on an apartment scale, is still a method of community building for students at UC Berkeley. In addition, cooperative living situations are often regarded as financially accessible for a wide range of students looking for housing in Berkeley. Armor and other SLATE participants likely resonated with communal styles of living because of their political and personal beliefs, as well as their material needs.
Over the past sixty years, both Barrington Hall and the UC Berkeley chapter of the Delta Phi Epsilon sorority have closed; the physical structures where they were once housed are the largest reminders and evidence of their impact on campus. Stebbins Hall, Morris’s first housing experience at Cal, is still operational as a student cooperative, and has been co-ed since 1971. In short, the built environment since the time of the Free Speech Movement on Berkeley’s campus has both endured and been changed in ways that would feel substantial to former students and members of SLATE.
The activists highlighted here craved more autonomy and less censorship in both their campus and housing climates. They were able to socially campaign for their beliefs as a result of cross-community building practices. Goldberg, Morris, and Armor all lived in houses with a built-in social element; this was likely a great opportunity for idea-sharing and recruitment for SLATE’s cause, as well as a way to foster meaningful connections with their housemates. Their interviews reveal the importance and impact of these connections, as well as the places in which they were formed. What these narrators recall best from their time at UC Berkeley—outside of their work with SLATE—is not classes or grades, but instead the places they lived and the communities of people they built in those places. Indeed, Goldberg, Morris, and Armor’s individual memories of student-led activism and the communities that emerged from, and around, that work have remained strong sixty years on.
About the Oral History Center
The Oral History Center of The Bancroft Library preserves voices of people from all walks of life, with varying political perspectives, national origins, and ethnic backgrounds. We are committed to open access and our oral histories and interpretive materials are available online at no cost to scholars and the public. You can find our oral histories from the search feature on our home page. Search by name, keyword, and several other criteria. Sign up for our monthly newsletter featuring think pieces, new releases, podcasts, Q&As, and everything oral history. Access the most recent articles from our home page or go straight to our blog home.
Freedom Summer and Its Legacy: Berkeley Sixty Years Later
By Sophia Faaland
Sophia Faaland is a third-year student at UC Berkeley studying history. They are an Undergraduate Research Apprentice and Archaeological Field Student for the Nemea Center. Sophia works at the Oral History Center as a student editor.
Freedom Summer in 1964 was a landmark moment in the Civil Rights Movement that challenged systemic racism in the United States. Activists—typically white, college-educated, and from Northern states—volunteered to travel to Mississippi and Louisiana to direct national media attention towards Jim Crow Laws and racist violence that prevented Black people from voting in Southern states. The ultimate goal of Freedom Summer was to end racial inequality in the Deep South, and ensure constitutional liberties for all people living in the United States. Organizations such as CORE (Congress of Racial Equality), SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee), NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People), and SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) all recruited, trained, and coordinated activists for Freedom Summer. Once there, activists faced the legacy of deeply-rooted systemic racism in the United States that had shaped elections.
Beginning in the late nineteenth century, politicians in the American South designed excessively complex voter registration forms in order to privilege white people attempting to register over Black people—regardless of the quality of responses. For instance, forms without a dot above the letter “i” would be disregarded entirely if they were filled out by a Black person. To combat this, Freedom Summer activists provided workshops for Black residents to navigate deliberately unforgiving voter registration forms, and taught literacy classes in Freedom Schools.
This moment in history drew on decades of activism from the Black community, accelerating the passage of the Civil Rights Act in July 1964 and the Voting Rights Act in August 1965. The integrated effort of Freedom Summer helped popularize the movement for civil rights legislation across the country, and reached many pockets of American society, including the UC Berkeley campus. On this sixtieth anniversary of Freedom Summer, it is important to acknowledge that the movement did not happen long ago. This recent, violent struggle for civil rights illustrates the aggressive power of white supremacy in American society and its persistence in American politics. UC Berkeley’s Oral History Center features interviews with narrators who experienced this critical moment in civil rights history firsthand. Their memories of civil rights activism include the period before Freedom Summer, during Freedom Summer itself, and the movement’s impact on UC Berkeley. The Oral History Center does not currently have any interviews of Black activists who participated in Freedom Summer.
Before Freedom Summer, UC Berkeley Professor Olly Wilson was a Black participant in civil rights activism across the United States. In the late 1950s, while working to obtain his bachelor’s of music at Washington University, he was also an active member of CORE, where he volunteered for test cases. Civil rights organizations frequently used test cases to prove racial discrimination and, subsequently, define new anti-discriminatory law. Wilson recalls the process of gathering evidence of racial inequality for CORE test cases:
What we would do is to have a Black person go into a hotel or restaurant by himself and he would either be served or not served. Then you’d have a Black and a white person go in and they would be served or not served. Then you would have a white person go in, the same white person go in by themselves, and you are both creating valuable data for legal challenges and pointing out the inanity of it all.
In 1960, Wilson accepted an academic appointment at the University of Florida A&M, and traveled to the Deep South with his wife, Elouise. On this journey, he witnessed Jim Crow laws in action and stark segregation for the first time. In his oral history, Wilson discusses Elouise’s experience of determining the correct car while transferring trains in New Orleans. He describes how segregation was discriminatory and nonsensical:
When she gets in the train, she notices that this is a brand new, beautiful, clean car, and she looked in the corner and nobody else was there but white folks, you know. So, she was wondering, “Well, maybe I am in the wrong car…” Now, Elouise is light skinned, and sometimes, if you don’t look at her right, you know, you might not know what race she is, you know. So, she was afraid people didn’t look at her right, so she came out, because she thought, “Well, if I get on this car and then Olly comes, they are definitely going to send him to the Black car, and I will be up here and he will be at that end…”
One year after the Wilsons’ journey to Florida, Freedom Riders boarded buses and trains through Mississippi to advocate for legislation ending segregation on interstate public transportation. In 1961, Mimi Feingold Real, a civil rights activist with CORE, was jailed for her participation in the Freedom Rides. Feingold Real recalls that the purpose of the Freedom Rides was to draw national media attention to Mississippi’s segregationist laws:
What we were doing—it was twofold, again—we were testing the system, doing a little stress test. But we were also, by the time I joined, we were also doing sort of a jail-in in Mississippi, that one of the ways to create pressure on the State of Mississippi was to have—first of all, to have all these Freedom Riders flooding into the state. But we all, as a condition of our being accepted, we had to agree that we would stay in jail for forty days. And that had to do with a quirk in the law in Mississippi, that you had forty days to post bail, and if you had not posted bail by forty days, you forfeited that right. So CORE was going to bail us out, but we were going to stay in that full forty days. That would force Mississippi, of course, to house us and clothe us and feed us and put up with all the national publicity that would arouse, and that would be one more way to pressure, at least the State of Mississippi, to discontinue this odious practice of segregated interstate transportation facilities.
Feingold Real extended her career in civil rights activism by continuing to work with CORE in Louisiana. She became a Freedom School teacher in the East Feliciana Parish teaching literacy, and showing Black residents how to navigate voter registration. In her oral history, she describes her philosophy of work as a Freedom School Teacher in 1963:
This wasn’t any sort of top-down endeavor, this is giving people the power to act on their own. It’s not trying to put pressure on the federal government to come in, and from the top-down force the white people in the South to do something that will allow Black people to do something else. I mean, in a way that was one of the ideas. But the basic idea was power to the people, giving people the initiative to make their own decisions and to have control of their lives. And that’s what I was doing on a person-to-person basis.
Chude Pamela Allen began participating in civil rights activism in 1964 when she heard the director of SNCC Freedom Schools, Staughton Lynd, speak in a seminar titled “Nonviolence in America” at Spelman College. Lynd inspired her to travel to Mississippi during Freedom Summer with the SNCC and help ensure Black people’s right to vote. She recalls the shift in political opinion about the protection of civil rights activists after the murder of Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney in June 1964:
And one of the first things we were then asked to do was to divide up by states, and then contact our parents and relatives to contact their congressmen and ask for safety for the civil rights workers. I did that, and my father did contact his congressmen. And later I learned, because his congressman—at least one of them called him up and said, “Get her out of there.” And my father who, as I’ve defined, was not what we think of as a political activist, but he said very clearly to his congressman, “This is not about her safety. It’s about all their safety.” That kind of shift—and that’s just, again, that reference to the fact that when you get involved in something, people around you can also have their own—they grow, too, or they can grow, depending on whether they support you.
To help combat social and political barriers Black activists faced, Freedom Summer activists were an integrated group. In her oral history interview, Allen reflects on adjusting to safety precautions in the Deep South, and becoming more aware of the nature of racist violence. Allen recalls that white activists did not always respect the danger integrated activism created for their Black colleagues during Freedom Summer:
I heard one story, as an example, of a white woman who did not want to hide on the floor under a blanket when riding in a car with a number of Black people, mostly men. I can remember the worker who then said he wouldn’t ride in a car with her anymore, because she insisted on sitting up. She insisted, “I have the right to be seen.” But of course, in that situation, she wasn’t the one that was going to get beaten to a pulp.
Even across the country, Berkeley students and university administrators felt the social and political repercussions of Freedom Summer. In 1964, UC administrators punished students exercising political speech that the university deemed unacceptable—beginning the debate on the limits of campus free speech. Prohibited topics of speech included civil rights and anti-Vietnam War advocacy. One of the first students arrested during the Free Speech Movement, Jack Weinberg, tabled in Sproul Plaza with CORE to raise money for civil rights work after returning from Freedom Summer activism in Mississippi. His arrest for speech on civil rights sparked a spontaneous sit-in protest around the police car detaining him that lasted thirty-two hours until he was released (seen in the first photo). Atop the police car at the protest for Weinberg’s release, Cal student Mario Savio gave a rousing speech to the crowd on the fundamental right to speech, and later became instrumental in organizing the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley. Savio had also returned from Mississippi for Freedom Summer before his organization of the Free Speech Movement in 1964. Thus, it was not a coincidence that the Free Speech Movement became a mass protest on the UC Berkeley campus the same year Freedom Summer occurred. This debate on speech and advocacy played a pivotal role in shaping the protections of student and faculty rights to free political speech at UC Berkeley today.
UCB professor Leon F. Litwack witnessed this shift in student activism at the beginning of the Free Speech Movement. In his oral history, Litwack remarks on the similar philosophies of Freedom Summer and the Free Speech Movement:
Of course, Mario Savio had just come back from the Mississippi summer when he came back to Berkeley in 1964. At places like Berkeley and other places around the country significant numbers of young people came to believe that direct personal commitment to social justice was a moral imperative and that social inequities are neither inevitable nor accidental but reflect the assumptions and beliefs and decisions of people who command enormous power, including the university administrators. Well, these were important perceptions. So what began at Berkeley as a protest to obtain a very traditional liberal freedom, freedom of speech and advocacy, soon brought into question the official version of reality.
In all, the legacy of Freedom Summer in 1964 is a historically significant moment that accelerated voting protections for Black people in the United States, and inspired the movement to protect free speech on all university campuses—starting at UC Berkeley. The passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 solidified the work of civil rights activists, and encoded anti-discriminatory practices into federal law. In the sixty years since Freedom Summer, Berkeley students have utilized their freedom of speech to address many other political issues, and as a result, the university has a reputation for vibrant political dialogue. The debate about the limits of free speech continues to this day as the University of California system grapples with Pro-Palestinian student activism. Indeed, on August 19, 2024, UC Berkeley announced its new policy for “expressive activity,” revising the previous agreements on freedom of speech for the coming academic year.
To learn more about the history of student activism at Berkeley, the Oral History Center collections include many other interviews, including the SLATE and Free Speech Movement oral history projects. For more information on women’s activism throughout the twentieth century, please visit the Women Political Leaders collection. To learn more about Black activists involved in the Civil Rights Movement and their legacies, see Charles M. Payne’s book I’ve Got the Light of Freedom: The Organizing Tradition and the Mississippi Freedom Struggle. Finally, the UC Berkeley Library holds a wide variety of secondary sources on Freedom Summer, available here.
About the Oral History Center
The Oral History Center of The Bancroft Library preserves voices of people from all walks of life, with varying political perspectives, national origins, and ethnic backgrounds. We are committed to open access and our oral histories and interpretive materials are available online at no cost to scholars and the public. You can find our oral histories from the search feature on our home page. Search by name, keyword, and several other criteria. Sign up for our monthly newsletter featuring think pieces, new releases, podcasts, Q&As, and everything oral history. Access the most recent articles from our home page or go straight to our blog home.