Composition Notebook, American (ca. 1908). Ruth Lopez Fund, 2013. © Ruth Lopez
Ther whus a man. he coocked his lunch in a pan.— Brad Smith
That's the first page of little mister Smith 's "Big Book of Wrds...My book number 8" — a recent archive acquisition. Sometimes, getting lost on back roads is a perfectly fine way to lose time. Small Town+Main Street+Antique Store =Heaven. How many scuffy floors of antique malls have I squatted on, patiently pouring through boxes containing thin slices of ephemera? Heaven does know.
As a motif, marbeling (not the meat term that denotes the mix of fat and lean, although DMV researchers surmise it shares its metamorphic progenitor with composition notebooks) is fetching. Chair seats in the future conference room will be covered with printed yardage of such purchased at the Fabric Arts Workshop in Philadelpia recently (and designed by the architect Robert Venturi 1981–84).
What is the origin of the composition notebook? A cursory look revealed many compatriots with the same question but no answer. Who killed Cock Robin? Brad's poor spelling is probably responsible for igniting this tangential memory: While researching early children's books at the American Antiquarian Society, I encountered countless (sans attribution) versions of this 18th century English nursery rhyme. From there, it was just a hop, skip to learning about the history of copyright law. As for the composition notebook , I can only offer more well-informed surmising on the origin. Paper marbeling—which goes way, way back to countries far, far away—was a common process and material for bookbinders. Those were the folks either building the blank book business or getting hired to work in them. But really, this impulse to learn the origin of the composition notebook was prompted by the find above and from reading an obituary during the same week, on the recently deceased Mary McConnell Bailey, heiress to a composition notebook fortune. Bailey left $10 million to the New York Public Library and stipulated that half of the money go to the branches. Her money came from the Roaring Spring Notebook Company which opened its blank book factory in Pennsylvania in 1887 to produce ledgers...and then made, and continue to make, composition notebooks.
The main branch of the New York Public Library,watched over by the marble lions named Patience and Fortitude, is a well-tended jewel, but its 87 branch libraries need help. This is smart philanthropy. The Brooklyn-based independent publisher Melville House writes extensively about issues facing the NYPL on their excellent site. (Love their Art of the Novela series.)
Two more bits. I almost missed the Roy Lichtenstein (1923–1997) retrospective at the Art Institute of Chicago last year. Being neither a fan or a detractor, I didn't go out of my way to not go. Here is the thing; we don't know what we don't know. In 1964, he made subtle pop black and white paintings of ordinary objects, informed by simple line-drawings from supermarket & other advertising. He filled five composition notebooks with this "source material." Then there was the human-sized painting of the cover of a composition notebook. I blew throught the exhibition then snaked my way back to have another look. And finally, thank you to the clever person who made the first DECOMPOSITION notebook.