Family History Includes New Homes for Old Artifacts

In my role as family historian, I do more than research and document names, dates, and photos for the family tree. 

I also find new homes for old artifacts that have no direct personal connection to the family tree. Not everything has to be in my collection! If relatives aren't interested, I research institutions that collect such items.

By keeping these things out of the trash or garage sales, and donating them to good new homes, I ensure that the items survive into the future. 

And I believe I am showing respect to the ancestors who saw value in these artifacts during their lifetimes. 

Theater buff = lots of programs

My late father-in-law (Edgar J. Wood, 1903-1986) played jazz piano to pay his way through what was then Tufts College. He was quite a theater and music buff. Over the decades, he attended performances in his home town of Cleveland, his college town of Boston, and on New York City's Great White Way. 

Happily, Ed saved nearly every program from plays or concerts he attended, beginning about 1923. And even better, the programs are in decent shape because they've been carefully stored. Now it is my honor and pleasure to find these programs safe new homes in repositories that collect and study such artifacts. 

Ask permission, take inventory, sign forms, send away

As always, it's important to match the artifact to a potential new home. In the case of these Cleveland-area theater programs from the 1950s, I researched historical societies and universities that collect and study items related to Cleveland. 

Narrowing it down, I had an email conversation with a librarian at Cleveland State University. I described how many programs I have and what condition they are in, and provided a photo similar to that above. I highlighted some specific items, such as programs featuring guest stars like Leo G. Carroll (Topper on TV) and Carol Channing (so well-known for Hello Dolly). 

The librarian agreed that these theater programs will fit into his collection, and he will accept our family's donation. If the library doesn't already have a copy, we will include Ed Wood's 1922 yearbook from Cleveland Heights High School, in great condition. 

As part of the process, we must submit an inventory of every program donated. We'll have to sign a deed of gift agreement, which gives full ownership of the artifacts to the repository. Finally, we'll pay to ship to the institution, a small investment to keep these programs in safe hands for academic study in the coming years.

Lots of possible homes for Broadway programs

Ed lived in New York City during the mid-1920s, trying to build a career as a jazz pianist. He went to the theater quite frequently, judging by the dozens of programs he amassed from that period (see photo above). Apart from holes that Ed punched to put these into binders, the programs are in surprisingly good condition for their age.

Finding a new home for these particular programs won't be too difficult. If you do an online search for "university collection of Broadway Playbills" you'll see how many institutions collect such items.

Sifting through the list, I've contacted a Midwest university with a sizable collection of Playbills from the 1960s and later. However, its library appears to have few programs from the 1920s and 1930s. I emailed the librarian, describing what the family would like to donate, and included a photo like this as a sample.

If this university isn't interested, there are many more I can approach. Meanwhile, I'm working on a complete inventory so I can provide lots of detail to any institution that winds up with these items.

My family and I agree that finding new homes for artifacts is an important priority, to honor the legacy of those who came before. My father-in-law Ed would certainly be delighted to know his collection of programs is in safe hands!

52 Weeks: Fame--I Danced on Broadway with Rum Tum Tugger!

Terrence Mann--yes, that handsome star--was my partner in an impromptu dance to the stage of New York's Wintergarden Theatre on the last Monday in February, 1984. Cats was still one of the hottest tickets in town.

At the time, I was an executive with a retail trade organization and was running a New York meeting for 300 credit managers from department stores around the United States. The committee head had arranged for the tickets on a free night during the meeting--it was his third time seeing Cats--and he made sure that I sat in K 120, an aisle seat mid-way up the orchestra section. (My twin sis was there too--her tx is above.)

When sexy Rum Tum Tugger (played by Mann) pranced off the stage in Act I during his big musical number, he ran up the aisle and stopped right next to my seat. He held out his hand to me, I grabbed on, and he pulled me up and into the aisle. Then he spun me around in a circle and we flew back down the aisle. He propelled me onto the huge stage, at the very center of the spotlight, in front of the cast and chorus (who kept singing and dancing in the background). Good thing I was wearing a nice outfit and my best makeup!

Astonished, excited, and blushing--but playing along--I mimicked Rum Tum Tugger's dance steps for a minute or two onstage. He then did something even more surprising: He reached down to the knee-length hem of my skirt, picked it up ever so slightly, and said to the audience, "Great legs!"

Rum Tum Tugger finally danced me back to my aisle seat, blew kisses to me, and went back to the stage. Throughout Act I and into Act II, every time this hunky guy left the stage to sing or dance in the aisles, he moved near me and blew me kisses. Again and again. I was so flustered that I couldn't pay any attention to the show itself. (In fact, I got tickets again the next year so I could enjoy the performance as part of the audience. I didn't sit in an aisle seat, and anyway, Terrence Mann had left the show by that time.)

I had no idea that dozens of the credit managers from my meeting were sitting in the mezzanine at that Cats performance! The following day, when I walked into the meeting, I was cheered (ahem, not jeered). The managers assumed that I had arranged my Broadway debut specifically because they were in the audience. I sheepishly admitted that I didn't know they'd be there and I certainly didn't expect to be dancing with Rum Tum Tugger. The committee head surely knew when he gave me the aisle seat--but he stayed mum before, during, and ever after.

So that's how I came to dance on Broadway with Terrence Mann. Want to see him as Rum Tum Tugger? Click here for the video snippet!