|UFDC Home||myUFDC Home | Help|
This item has the following downloads:
1 HYPERJAX: INVESTIGATING THE USE OF HYPERMEDIA AS AN INTERPRETIVE TOOL FOR THE PRESERVATION OF JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDAS SILENT FILM HERITAGE By MATTHEW CONWAY MARINER A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSI TY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF HISTORIC PRESERVATION UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 2011
2 2011Matthew Conway Mariner
3 To my brother, Zach
4 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I thank my committee members Pete r Prugh and Sara Katharine Williams, whose excitement for my research has, at times, eclipsed my own. Without their insistence that I toot my own horn more, I might have been a sad character indeed. I thank my mother and father, Jude and John, who were nothing if not encouraging of all my academic pursuits, especially when they ran counter to the things Id been into the week before. I thank my brother, Zach, for being generally awesome. I thank my coworkers at the University of Florida Digi tal Library Center who cut me much slack on my grumpier days. I also thank Ivan and Betts, the two snuggliest snugglers that ever snuggled. Finally, I thank my wife and best friend, Dina, to whom I owe every ounce of desire to even want to pursue my graduate degree; and to whom I am inexplicably grateful for her unconditional support, encouragement, and butt kicking. She knows what she did.
5 TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS .................................................................................................. 4 LIST OF FIGURES .......................................................................................................... 7 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS and Terms ........................................................................... 9 ABSTRACT ................................................................................................................... 10 1 I NTRODUCTION .................................................................................................... 12 Methodology ........................................................................................................... 16 Chapter Summaries ................................................................................................ 19 2 H YPERMEDIA AS AN I NTERPRETIVE T OOL FOR H ISTORIC P RESERVATIONISTS ............................................................................................ 22 Definition of Hypermedia ......................................................................................... 22 Interpretation ........................................................................................................... 23 Philosophy of Digital Preservation .......................................................................... 25 Effect on Traditional Preservation ........................................................................... 27 Summary ................................................................................................................ 31 3 C A SE S T UDIES O F H Y PERMEDIA P R ESERVATION P R OJECTS ...................... 34 HyperCities ............................................................................................................. 35 Overview .......................................................................................................... 35 Functionality ..................................................................................................... 36 Analysis ............................................................................................................ 38 Historypin ................................................................................................................ 39 Overview .......................................................................................................... 39 Functionality ..................................................................................................... 40 Analysis ............................................................................................................ 42 Summary ................................................................................................................ 44 4 H I STORIC C O NTEXT : J A CKSONVILLE, 19011921 ............................................. 55 Great Fire of 1901 ................................................................................................... 55 The Studios Arrive .................................................................................................. 57 Studios Leave ......................................................................................................... 59 Summary and Impact .............................................................................................. 61 5 JA CKSONVILLE A S A S I LENT F I LM C I TY : I N TERACTIONS B E TWEEN T HE C I TY T HE I N DUSTRY A ND T HE P E OPLE .......................................................... 62
6 Setting: Studios and Ci tyscape ............................................................................... 62 Bases of Operation ........................................................................................... 63 Roseland Hotel .......................................................................................... 63 Dixieland Par k and its theater .................................................................... 66 Norman Studios/Eagle Film City ................................................................ 72 Cityscape .......................................................................................................... 75 City Folk and Film Folk ........................................................................................... 81 City Folk: J.E.T. Bowden .................................................................................. 81 Film Folk: Oliver Hardy ..................................................................................... 85 6 D E TERMINANTS O F S U CCESS F OR A N I N TERPRETIVE H Y PERMEDIA P R ESERVATION P R OJECT O F JA CKSONVILLE S S I LENT F I LM I N DUSTRY H E RITAGE ........................................................................................................... 104 Ability to Succeed ................................................................................................. 107 Overview ........................................................................................................ 107 Application to Jacksonville .............................................................................. 108 Relatability and Palatability ................................................................................... 109 Overview ........................................................................................................ 109 Application to Jacksonville .............................................................................. 111 Flexibility ............................................................................................................... 115 Overview ........................................................................................................ 115 Application to Jacksonville .............................................................................. 116 Cooperability ......................................................................................................... 117 Overview ........................................................................................................ 117 Application to Jacksonville .............................................................................. 120 Summary .............................................................................................................. 122 7 O B SERVATIONS, C O NCLUSI ONS, A N D F U RTHER W O RK .............................. 127 Further Work ......................................................................................................... 128 Conclusions and Observations ............................................................................. 1 28 WORKS CITED ........................................................................................................... 132 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .......................................................................................... 135
7 LIST OF FIGURES Figure page 2 1 Exterior rendering of Douglass Theater.. ............................................................ 32 2 2 Interior rendering of Douglass Theater.. ............................................................. 33 3 1 HyperCities interface, centered on Manhattan. .................................................. 48 3 2 Historic Manhattan map overlay on recent satellite imagery from HyperCities.. ....................................................................................................... 49 3 3 Expanded node from Historic Filipinotown collection in HyperCities.. ................ 50 3 4 Historypin main interface, centered over Florida.. .............................................. 51 3 5 Expanded Historypin envelope composed of historic photographs of Gainesville, Florida. ............................................................................................ 52 3 6 Historypin node showing an historic photograph as a single entity.. ................... 53 3 7 Historypin overlay of historic photograph on Google Streetview imagery.. ......... 53 3 8 Google Streetview scene from Figure 37 with the overlay removed.. ................ 54 3 9 Historypin guided tour interface. ......................................................................... 54 5 1 Roseland Hotel, Jacksonville, Florida. Circa 1909. ............................................ 88 5 2 Trade journal spread of main Kalem company cast. .......................................... 88 5 3 Interior of second Kalem studio, 1914. ............................................................... 89 5 4 Entrance to Dixieland Park, Jacksonville, Florida. .............................................. 89 5 5 Birds eye view postcard of Dixieland Park. ........................................................ 90 5 6 View of Dixieland Park attractions. .................................................................... 90 5 7 Dixieland Park dance hall. ................................................................................. 91 5 8 Dixieland Theater. ............................................................................................. 91 5 9 Advertisement for Norman Studios / Eagle Film City, 1922. ............................... 92 5 10 Norman Studios main building, 2010. ................................................................. 92 5 11 Birds eye map of Jacksonville, Florida, 1893. ................................................... 93
8 5 12 DyalUpchurch Building. .................................................................................... 94 5 13 YMCA Building. .................................................................................................. 95 5 14 Bisbee Building. .................................................................................................. 96 5 15 Florida Life Building. .......................................................................................... 97 5 16 Kluth o Residence. .............................................................................................. 98 5 17 Klutho Apartments (Residence in foreground). .................................................. 99 5 18 Morocco Temple ............................................................................................... 100 5 19 Klutho Studios lot with dormitories and residences. ......................................... 101 5 20 Advertisement for Klutho Studios. .................................................................... 102 5 2 1 From left: Pearl Bailey, Bud R oss, Oliver Hardy, Ethel Burton ......................... 103 6 1 Prototype route map with data nodes corresponding to Bouncing Baby. ......... 124 6 2 Prototype of route with data nodes corresponding to building objects found in Bouncing Baby chase scene. ........................................................................... 125 6 3 Prototype of route with one opened data node corresponding to a building found in Bouncing Baby chase scene.. ............................................................. 126
9 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS AND TERMS Envelope A collection of nodes based on a common theme or plot, as in a film or personal narrative Hypermedia Media integrated into a computer based tool that links data to other datain multiple forms to create a nonlinear medium of information KML KML, or keyhole markup language, is based on the grammar and structure of XML, but geared toward geographic applications as presented in Google Maps and Google Earth Metadata Data that describes other data; i.e. bibliographic record accompanying a book Node A point on a platform, as a map, that contains a datum or data Visuality The characteristic of a system or object disposing itself to visual i nterpretation or consumption XML XML, or extensible markup language, is a mark up language like HTML (hypertext markup language) that dictates the structure of a digital object and can contain unlimited descriptors
10 Abstract of Thesis Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Historic Preservation HYPERJAX: INVESTIGATING THE USE OF HYPERMEDIA AS AN INTERPRETIVE TOOL FOR THE PRESERVATION OF JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDAS SILENT FILM HERITAGE By Matthew Conway Mariner December 2011 Chair: Sara Ka therine Williams Major: Historic Preservation This thesis analyzes the potentials of hypermedia, or interactive webbased tools like Google Maps and others, in th e preservation and interpretation of historic sites or themes that are no longer extant, where rec onstructions or other methods of interpretation are not feasible or desirable. In so doing, this thesis proposes D eterminants of S uccess for potential hyperm edia preservation projects The D eterminants are intended as developments in an adaptable methodology of key questions, procedures, and guidelines that future projects could incorporate. This methodology was devised through the careful study of several existing hypermediabased digital initiatives, two of whichare discus sed in detail as case studies. Furthermore, the Determinants share much in spirit and intent with the foundational principles of interpretation devised by Freeman Tilden, a popular and wi dely influential writer and reporter who wrote extensively on Americas National Parks, in his 1957 book I nterpreting Our Heritage. To illustrate the Determinants the thesis presents a hypothetical project concerned with the preservation of sites, buildin gs, and the overall cityscape relevant to
11 itssilent era film industry in Jacksonville, Florida during the first two decades of the 20th century. This lost industry and its infrastructure, which had a tremendous andobviously discernable influence on the hi story of the American film industry as a whole, is well represented in archives across the United States by historic newspapers, photographs, and first hand accounts,but not by buildings and actual films, most being lost to time.Some edifices relevant to t he industry still exist, including the campus of Eagle Film Studio, which is currently being developed as a silent film museum; and many of the hotels, high rises, and downtown scenery that make up Jacksonvilles cityscape. However most of the built resources constructed explicitly for the purposes of film production no longer exist, evidence of them does, and is plentiful. The history of Jacksonvilles tenure as a film town, as well as its physical makeup and personages pertinent to the industry, are ex plored as potential hypermedia project. Given the rich depth and breadth of such an undertaking, a single, resourcerich facet of this history was chosen to be treated by the aforementioned methodology: film legend Oliver Hardys early career in Jacksonvi lle. Through this example, this approach to interpretation is illustrated and hopefully can serve to enrich similar preservation projects whose resources exist mostly on paper, but whose subjects are of great interest and importance.
12 CHAPTER 1 I NTRODUCT ION According to Richard Alan Nelson, one of the most prolific contributor s to the scholarship of Floridas early film industry, i n the decade preceding the United States involvement in the First World War, the exhibition of motion pictures was fast becom ing the primary means of entertainment for millions of Americans, rich or poor; white or black. Storefront theaters sprouted like weeds from every failed shoe store, phonograph parlor, and bookshop, and when they ceased making enough money for their propr ietors, they were easily moved to another part of town, or, finances willing, into one of the thousands of purposebuilt nickelodeons constructed during the decade. The countrys need for new films and better, more complex ones was insatiable. The filmmakers of the day were situated in glass studios atop Manhattan skyscrapers or surrounded by stark farmland in Northern New Jersey. These earliest film manufacturers produced several reels of film per week, for the most part without editing them, and sent t hem off to distributors to be gobbled up by local nickelodeon owners, who would rarely show a new film for more than a week before returning it to its source. Business was, in a word, good. But the demand for new films far outweighed the supply of novel wo rks, and the filmmakers of the day, their studios stymied by the long, overcast Northern winters, could only realistically produce films six months out of each year. New, sunnier locations had to be sought. In 1907 Jacksonville, Florida, a Southern manuf acturing town of modest size and report situated along the St. Johns River and only a stones throw from the Atlantic Ocean was tapped by a small film manufacturing concern to be that companys winter base of operations. Jacksonville was in the throes of a fast paced recovery after a fire in
13 1901 devastated the city and had been attracting the attention of many new industries and fresh, idealistic souls, but it did not expect to suddenly be thrust into the position of Winter Film Capital of the World a t itle bestowed it be newspapers and trade magazines of the day (Bean 49) After the first production company found success, others soon followed, most only using the city during the winter months, but many setting up permanent stock companies to take advantage of the year round sunshine and subtropical clime. Soon the town that had, at the turn of the 19th century, been nearly destroyed by an unimaginable conflagration, was abuzz with the activities of film folk, the attention of increasingly more powerful production interests, and, whats more, a reputation as a truly cosmopolitan Southern metropolis worthy of its newfound fame. T he attention and reputation would after a little over ten years fade away into the realm of memory and perhaps even nostalgia. The First World War would draw attention from the fledgling film industry in Jacksonville, and rising social pressure to reform coupled with an unsympathetic mayor would quickly drive the film folk from the humid shores of the St. Johns and westward, into the open arms of Southern Californias low land prices and permissive local governments. There is no single reason Jacksonville lost the title of Winter Film Capital of the World, and the many hypotheses that abound are infinitely debatable. The only cer tainty lies in the tangible and documented evidence that it was, for a time, Tinseltown. The evidence of Jacksonvilles film heritage has always been cocktail trivia, something a person relates to briefly raise a few eyebrows. Not until very recently hav e any serious efforts been made to promote and preserve this heritage, mostly through the work of Jacksonvilles own Norman Studios Silent Film Museum, a nonprofit
14 stewardship organization responsible for the preservation of Norman Studios, ne Eagle Film City, a group of buildings that may very well be the last intact silent era film studio of its kind. Beyond the preservation and promotion of a single site there is a greater concern: that the record of sites and activities important to both the lost fi lm industry and the city itself, and the interplay between the two, are presently unexplored, unnoticed, and at risk of fading away like so much decomposing microfilm. Within Jacksonville are dozens of sites, most of which are no longer intact as they wer e circa 1915; and stored in libraries and archives around Florida and the United States are reels of microfilm, ephemera, and, possibly even a few motion pictures, all of which combine to form a disjointed mass of historical data that needs to be molded into something that serves to preserve, promote, and educate. In the case of Jacksonville, where most sites relevant to the period have either been demolished or built upon with new construction; or the building exists and has other, more present significance, the notion of preservation along traditional lines is not feasible. Given the lack of extant built resources, and abundance of archival resources, the feat of preserving Jacksonvilles silent film industry history must necessarily be a digital one. A rchival resources like historic newspaper articles, photographs, advertisements, and even films can all serve as preservatives forin extant resources, and as points of interestin a cohesive presentation. These ephemeral items, when observed broadly, act as a composition of a period in time, a snapshot of a decade. Where buildings are felled, newspaper articles survive. That is not to say, however, that physicality be left out of the equation: many edifices built during Jacksonvilles post fire
15 recovery period exist today and, more than likely, served as the backdrop to hundreds of locally made films. In order to preserve the significance of these lost sites and highlight the significance of extant sites, the only truly effective solution is to create an accessible web based platform onto which a cohesive, educative, and accessible digital hypermedia effort can be staged. An example of hypermedia in common use, and on the broadest scale, is the Internet and the myriad sites therein. On a smaller, though still large, scale Wikipedia is a prime example. It uses a combination of text, images, audiovisual objects, and hyperlinks to perform the function of an encyclopedia. This combination of data types and their linkages within or without a common theme is the core of hypermedia. This thesis will explore the best efforts in hypermedia preservation and presentation, whereby data is placed on an interactive, publically accessible webbased platform like Google Maps or Historypin; analyze the relationship betw een Jacksonville and its lost film industry, and draft determinants of success for the fulfillment of a potential project preserving the lost silent film era resources of Jacksonville. Specific methodologies will not be dictated, rather, Determinants of S uccess based on past successes and a potential projects requirement s will be offered, all in the interest of a set of goals in service of interpretive effectiveness. The result will be an application of these Determinants to a potential project focused on a small, but highly representative and resourcerich aspect of Jacksonvilles silent film heritage: Oliver Hardys career in Jacksonville.
16 Hardys time spent in Jacksonville is, in many ways, a microcosmic representation of the citys silent film indus try history, and, given Hardys lasting fame and appeal, is the most likely aspect of said history to strike a chord with the average user. The reason for applying these Determinants to only one facet of such a potentially large project is one of effectiveness driven by the desire for success. While there are many historical envelopes, or containers of narration inherent in the film heritage of Jacksonville, Oliver Hardys is the most well documented and, perhaps, the most relatable. A quality focused project with the flexibility to expandis preferred over a disorganized quantity focused one. Within the potential project, consideration will be given to the acquisition of data through traditional and collaborative methods, and the presentation of those data via the most effective means with the best chance of successfully interpreting the subject matter. Methodology This thesis is concerned primarily with the use of hypermedia, or interactive webbased media organized into a usable tool as a method for pres erving and interpreting historic sites with little or no extant fabric but with significant caches of archival data that explain and support that fabric In order to illustrate how a focused hypermedia system would be implemented, it was necessary to focus on an actual subject with little remaining fabric that is datarich. Jacksonvilles film industry, as it was in the first two decades of the 20th century, was one of many subjects that could have been mined and analyzed, but, given the myriad related ephemeral data sources scattered around the many institutional libraries in Florida, and the lack of public knowledge concerning it, the citys film heritage seemed the most ripe.
17 Research for this thesis is rooted in study of the basic concepts of hypermedia and digitization, and the successful (and unsuccessful) exploits thereby; as well as the history of Jacksonville, Florida, both as a city and a town in which films were made. Investigations into the former subject were carried out primarily via the use and re use of various web based digital initiatives. Two of these digital initiatives, HyperCities and Historypin were chosen as case studies, which will be discussed further in Chapter 3. They were chosen for their innovative use of widely (and freely) available tools, as well as their philosophical approaches to collaborati ve preservation, even if those philosophies are not necessarily official. When researching the filmic heritage of Jacksonville, it was necessary to consult more traditional archives not yet bound to the web. The Florida State University Libraries Special Collections were referenced heavily, as it possess thousands of paper materials relevant to the early film industry in Jacksonville and the rest of Florida. Associations were also formed with the board of the Norman Studios Silent Film Museum, a nonprofit organization that stewards the mostly intact site of Eagle Film City/Norman Studios, one of the last silent film studios of its kind still in existence The latter was crucial in understanding how successful traditional preservation methods have been in the promotion of Jacksonvilles filmic heritage, and as a touchstone to the preservation community as a whole. When all the research for this thesis was conducted, it was determined that there was far too much data to be interpreted than could reasonably be done justice in what should be a focused study. As a result of this determination, the many aspects of Jacksonvilles film heritage were pared down to two basic realms: the buildings
18 relevant to the industry; and the individuals that made it possible. Furthermore, these realms were divided into specific persons and buildings relevant to the industry They were deemed so based on their cont ributions to the progression of the industry and the city, as well as the amount of relevant data that could be uncovered. The aforementioned approaches are all in support of the D eterminants of S uccess for interpretation laid out in Chapter 6. These suggestions are framed as characteristics, which, it is thought should be exhibited by a hypermediabased preservation project. The Determinants are as follows: A bility to S ucceed, which suggests project managers choose a path within their subject that offers the best chance for success; R elatability and P alatability which suggests projects be both relatable to the average user and palatable, or attractive and user friendly, so as to reduce the technologys learning curve and facilitate absorption. F lexibility which suggests a project be able to adapt to changes in technology without sacrificing its usability C ooperability which suggests projects be inclusive of both traditional and innovative modes of information submittal The Determinants of Success which are the ultimate result of this thesis, are meant to be applicable to a number of subject matters across all fields. However, for the sake of illustration, they are directed at the film heritage of Jacksonville, and, more specifically, at one aspect of it: film legend Oliver Hardy. That path t hat lead to the creation of these Determinants will be explained further in Chapter 6, but, in summary, can be revealed as having been inspired by the case studies in Chapter 3 and, after the fact, by the principles of interpretation laid down by writer an d National Parks scholar Freeman Tilden. Tildens principles, as related in his seminal work I nterpreting our Heritage are as follows:
19 Principle I. Any interpretation that does not somehow relate what is being displayed or described to something within the personality or experience of the visitor will be sterile. Principle II. Information, as such, is not Interpretation. Interpretation is revelation based upon information. But they are entirely different things. However, all interpretation includes information. Principle III. Interpretation is an art, which combines many arts, whether the materials presented are scientific, historical or architectural. Any art is in some degree teachable. Principle IV. The chief aim of Interpretation is not instruction, but provocation. Principle V. Interpretation should aim to present a whole rather than a part, and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phase. Principle VI. Interpretation addressed to children (say, up to the age of twelve) should not be a dilution of the presentation to adults, but should follow a fundamentally different approach. To be at its best it will require a separate program. Chapter Summaries Chapter 2 introduces to and acquaints the reader with the basic concepts behind digital preservation and hypermedia and how it differs from other kinds of digital initiatives. The underlying philosophical interplay between digital preservation and traditional methods of heritage conservation will also be addressed, and the case made for preferential us e of the former in largescale projects where little or no fabric exists. Furthermore, Chapter 2 will discuss the underlying concepts behind of historic site interpretation. Chapter 3 will provide the reader two case studies of relevant digital preservat ion projects and the features present in each that ought to be considered as common practice in future projects, and others that ought tobe avoided. HyperCities ( www.hypercities.com ) a project using historic maps to create layered perspectives of major world cities comprise this chapters case studies; and
20 Historypin ( www.historypin.com ) a popular multimedia sharing website with strong links to modern social media and emphas is collaboration will be addressed. Chapter 4 serves as background for the rest of the history of Jacksonvilles film industry Some knowledge of general film history will be assumed while the localized history of the industrys presence in Jacksonvill e i s discussed in more detail. Chapter 4 will also provide historic context to the reader explaining why Jacksonville was chosen as the Winter Film Capital of the World, what factors internal to the city contributed to its success, and what external factors propelled the search by filmmakers for a new home base. Chapter 5 briefly analyzes Jacksonville both as a city that influenced and was influenced by the film industry. This analysis is bi partite and address es Jacksonvilles built environm ent focusing on s tudio buildings and the overall cityscape of downtown with enough properties indicative of the entire city and i ndustry within; architect H.J. Klutho and former mayor J.E.T. Bowden, two of the most important persons relevant to both the city of Jacksonvill e and its film industry are addressed as well. Chapter 6 outlines and details the Determinants of Success and goals future virtual preservation projects should follow and fulfill. The Determinants are framed as a series of qualities a hypothetical projec t should possess: the ability to succeed, relatabili ty, flexibility, and cooperability. Each Determinant will be defined and applied to a hypothetical hypermedia preservation project of Jacksonvilles film industry heritage focused on this Jacksonvillebased career of screen legend Oliver Hardy. Some of the ideas related in Chapters 2 and 3 (as well as some novel ones) will be introduced.
21 Chapter 7 concludes the thesis and summarizes the entire work, relates the acquired, or learned, lessons, and suggest s further research. Chapter 7 detail s what was learned, what problems were encountered, and how, ultimately, the goals for the project changed throughout the course of the study. Avenues of further research are suggested, but not fully explored.
22 CHAPTE R 2 H YPERMEDIA AS AN INTERPRETIVE T OOL FOR HISTORIC PRESERVATIONISTS Hypermedia, which will be defined in the following section, is the technological and interpretive basis of this thesis. While the word may seem daunting to those unfamiliar with digital technologies, or simply oddsounding as a word, it should be thought of merely as a device, like any other, to be kept in a preservationists toolbox. Hypermedi a and digital technologies are not necessarily more advantageous than other tools like static signage and reconstructions but are complimentary, making the interpretation and study of certain subjects easier and more productive. In many cases, it is desirable to integrate signage and digital technology (touchscreen technology) and use digitization and hypermedia to facilitate more accurate reconstructions. The test subject of this thesis is the film industry of Jacksonville, Florida, which has effectively been extinct since the 1920s, but was more productive and well known than Southern Californi as for at least a decade. The built resources of this lost industry are few, most having more lauded or more obvious distinctions. Since the majority of built resources pertaining to this industry are lost, or unidentified, a hypermediabased treatment is the best solution for its interpretation and study. Such an approach will allow the easy integration of archival materials like films, newspapers, photographs, and other data types relevant to the industry and its built resources into a digital platfor m with minimal cost and maximal accessibility. Definition of Hypermedia Hypermedia is not a new phenomenon. As early as the late 1980s, hypermedia were used as the basis of various consumer software to create applications with no ostensible purpose, limi ted only by the users imagination and the softwares
23 programming. The most widely used, though painfully obvious, hypermedia tool is the World Wide Web. Essentially, hypermedia is any computer based tool that links data to other datain multiple forms t o create a nonlinear medium of information(Jacobsen 5 6) To distill it further, one only need think of the see also notations in modern encyclopedias, the major difference being one of transportation, whereby the hypermedia solution pulls the user from one node to another rather than the user turning pages. Furthermore, the data in a hypermedia environment comes in many forms ranging from simple text to interactive threedimensional models. Ultimately, hypermedia is an effective tool for combining di sparate data in a logical, web like structure that is presentable and efficient (Moos 266) Interpretation In order to present historical data or objects comprising data like buildings or artifacts, one must first interpret it, so as to mold it from raw material to something with structure and purpose. Raw data cannot easily be consumed by the enduser, the visitor to the museum exhibit or historic site. Interpretation is not unlike translation, except during translation for the purposes of interpreting historic data, the end result is made more efficient and user friendly A preservationist or historian can look at historic photographs, building plans, and thousands of loose newspaper articles and draw conclusions based on his or her training and exper ience; the enduser, the individual who reads the signage at a state park site or object card at a museum must be given a distilled product, one that can be easily digested and registered. Though in its incomprehensiveness, it must be concisely complete like a small, but wholesome meal. A visitor to a National Historic Site must be able to read an interpretive sign summarizing the use of some historic object, and come away with the ability to relay to
24 others that use. Museologists and preservationists have been processing these distillations for years, following many different schools of thought or accepted practices. This thesis is not deeply concerned with the longterm effects of interpretation on endusers, but with novel tools for delivery. It began primarily as an analysis of hypermedia tools as preservatives of lost buildings and sites, but later turned to concepts of traditional interpretation methods as guides. During the writing of this thesis, it was discovered that many of the suggestions f or implementation and interpretation given in Chapter 6 tend to agree with the guidelines set down by Freeman Tilden in the late 1950s. To reiterate, Tildens principles are as follows : Principle I. Any interpretation that does not somehow relate what is bei ng displayed or described to something within the personality or experience of the visitor will be sterile. Principle II. Information, as such, is not Interpretation. Interpretation is revelation based upon information. But they are entirely different things. However, all interpretation includes information. Principle III. Interpretation is an art, which combines many arts, whether the materials presented are scientific, historical or architectural. Any art is in some degree teachable. Principle IV. The chief aim of Interpretation is not instruction, but provocation. Principle V. Interpretation should aim to present a whole rather than a part, and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phase. Principle VI. Interpretation addressed to children (say, up to the age of twelve) should not be a dilution of the presentation to adults, but should follow a fundamentally different approach. To be at its best it will require a separate program. Tildens principles in summary, espoused the values of relatabili ty between the visitor and the subject; the difference between information and interpretation and how the former cannot easily be absorbed without latter ; the artistic nature of interpretation; the aim of provoking a response from the user versus merely in struct ing him or her ; the
25 holistic demands of interpretation; and the belief that interpretation for children should not simply be a diluted form of that which is presented to adults (Tilden 9 ) Tildens principles have been widely used by service members of the United States National Park Service, as well as many other state and local entities. Their wide use has, over the years since their publication, become something of a core operati ng system, something more than just a set of guidelines. Despite thei r age, and the contexts they could not necessarily foresee, Tildens principles are still valid today. The overlap between Tildens principles, and the suggestions for interpretation made in this thesis are sometimes precise, as his principles and the suggestions made in this thesis both strongly advocate relatability. Also, the overlap can be less precise and more spiritual, as both sets are generally concerned with effectiveness and how the enduser will benefit from how information is packaged and deli vered. Ultimately, this thesis owes much to the spirit of Tilden. Philosophy of Digital Preservation The first goal of preservation, digital or otherwise, has always been to maintain the integrity of an object, building, or even something as intangible as an idea. Next, perhaps, it is desirable to make a preserved thing accessible to the general public so that they may scrutinize or just enjoy its existence (Baudoin 559) Many sites of historical importance are simply that: sites with no remnants of thei r former contents. Unless the area is a special one with unparalleled national importance (Jamestown, Williamsburg etc.) it would be unreasonable to either reconstruct or cordon off every parcel of land that once served as basis for a historic building or structure. Furthermore, it may be anti urban to simply forbid the responsible improvement of a parcel of land to preserve the relatively unknown and wholly intangible spirit of a lost
26 building. With this in mind, and still wanting to make it whatever i t may be -accessible to as wide an audience as possible, there is arguably, only one obvious solution: digitization. Digitization can be seen as either a form of mitigation, saving a site in spirit, as it were, when all attempts at physical preservation have failed; or as a way of making the untouchable touchable. This thesis will be primarily concerned with the former. Digital libraries have been around for over nearly two decades and only recently has technology caught up with the imaginatio ns of arc hivists and librarians (Zisk 689). Regardless, the aims of these professionals have always been to make accessible that which was for the many decades strictly inaccessible. At best, the most well protected book in a library is viewable only under superv ision and often requires a short course in the handling of rare paper materials ( Guidelines for handling manuscript material). In recent years many of these resources have been digitized through some manner of capture, archived, and put online in an ins titutional digital library. Such a practice is, at its core, a democratic one, a logical next step for the library and its materials. Ideally researchers would no longer have to travel great distances to study under supervision a tome of key importance t o their research; a digital copy viewed on a computer screen or handheld device would suffice in many cases. Naturally not every important book or manuscript will be preserved digitally; whether because an entity is lacking in funds or impetus, many objec ts will remain undigitized and effectively inaccessible. Even greater than the inconvenience to researchers is the ultimately indefensible matter of the object itself: in spite of the archivists best efforts time and nature will always overcome the objec t. The only sure way to truly preserve anything is to digitize and disperse it, the
27 latter directive being crucial to building an effective infrastructure of preservati on (Smith 7 9) Likewise, in the realm of historic preservation, where buildings and c ulturally significant sites are maintained either as gigantic museum pieces or functioning edifices, accessibility, funding, and the barrage of decomposing factors are just as important. Defending the integrities of buildings and archival resources is bot h a political and physical fight. Effect on Traditional Preservation Since the adoption of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966 (and well before) many tools, radical or otherwise, have been employed to save buildings and sites threatened with dem olition or unsympathetic alteration. Depending on ones outlook, these tools have either been tremendously successful, or just effective enough to prevent so much destruction. Looking at the lost historical resources of the United States collectively, it is not difficult to succumb to an even grimmer perspective than the latter. However, when a building is lost or a site is disturbed it is no more lost than a lost 35mm silent film that managed to be converted to VHS tape or DVD prior to disintegrating. Buildings, like films, or people even, generate thousands upon thousands of ephemeral and permanent documents, photographs, and artifacts a paper trail. One of the most important efforts in content generation for historic buildings is the Historic Ame rican Building Survey (HABS) which was founded in the early days of the Great Depression as a way to both employ out of work architects and drafters, and record historic resources in situ. Most, if not all, of the drawings created by HABS volunteers from recent years, and those from original documentation, are available online in digital form( Built in America: HABS/HAER Intro). From these trails it is possible to reconstruct not just the physicality of a building, but also the things that
28 happened withi n its walls and the things it caused to happen without. Whether they are aware of it or not, preservationists have been acting like archivists for decades, cataloging buildings in historic districts at the municipal level, or singly at the national; they have been collecting and archiving photographs, building histories, and primary sources ostensibly to convince an authoritative entity of a sites importance. In the realm of library science and humanities archiving, these same trails exist but are oft en left to collect dust; an archivists first priority is to ensure the integrity and safety of an object and analyze it to an extent not necessarily to digitize and advertise it. This is usually because the typical librarys collections far outweigh its funding for analysis of the collections; and when funding is supplied, only collections that generate enough interest amongst faculty are selected for further treatment. The level and interest a collection maintains, though, is not necessarily an indicat ion of its importance and viability. This same conundrum can be expressed by historic preservationists. For example, given the sheer number of built resources encapsulated by the MidCentury period of American History, it is unlikely that even a respectable portion of them will be preserved, either as functional edifices or museum pieces: col lections outweigh the resources (Lambin 4) In the late 1980s, the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) began w hat is known as the Brittle Books Program, an initiative carried out at the behest of the United States Congress to preserve important and endangered books. Originally, the program utilized the latest microfilming techniques to photograph the books and, usually, destroy original volume, since its phy sical preservation would be either imp ossible or fiscally prohibitive (Field 5961) Currently, the preferred method for
29 preservation is through document scanning and digitization. While the original object is almost always lost, a usable digital copy ex ists and will, hopefully, be maintained throughout the centuries. Such an initiative could be employed, and perhaps should be employed, for a portion of Americas and the Worlds built resources that beg preservation, but for which there is too little money. This is the only feasible approach to preserving resources lost to time already, aside from costly reconstructions. One natural concern that arises is: if digital preservation is used as mitigation for resources lost, will it then be used more and more, simply as a less expensive approach to preserving everything ? The question itself treads downward on a steep slope, but is, to some extent, a fair one. In the world of filmmaking, it is much less expensive to replicate environments digitally than ac tually construct them; or film a movie set in New York City in Vancouver Canada because the financial burden on producers is lighter (Brooker 427) Similarly in historic preservation there are instances wherein traditionally a lost resource would be reconstructed but does not necessarily need to be. At Colonial Williamsburg for example, The Douglass Playhouse once stood near the capitol building, serving as the colonial towns main entertainment venue. Like most other edifices in Williamsburg it was lo st. However, it was not part of the original reconstruction plan but has continuously been under consideration for reconstruction. In 2010, a team of modelers and programmers from the Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities at the Universit y of Virginia collaborated with archaeologists and historians at Colonial Williamsburg to digitally recreate the Douglass Theater. The project is part of a greater scheme to digitally model and render several lost buildings in the core of Colonial
30 William sburg. The pilot effort to recreate the Douglass Theater was a success and included contributions from well founded archaeological practice and understandable and well informed artistic interpretation. As a result, the project will likely receive enough funding to proceed with further models and renderings that could comprise a visitable Virtual Williamsburg (see f igures 21 and 22) However, in this case, the digitization of these lost resources will not necessarily prevent Colonial Williamsburg from eventually reconstructing them physically. The digitized resources will remain regardless of changes in construction costs or Colonial Williamsburgs preservation policies. They can be studied, experienced, and acceptedmore or less as unique resources i n and of themselves, divorced from that which they represent (Virtual Williamsburg). Colonial Williamsburg is an example of an insular, almost immutable historic enclave, which, unlike Jacksonville, is not rapidly expanding with suburbs and in need of in dividually fungible constituents. The City of Jacksonville, even if it were particularly interested in the preservation of its own film industry heritage, would most likely be wont to invest in costly reconstructions that may or may not generate income. Colonial Williamsburg has the benefit of fame and the leisure of having been so well regarded for so long, even to this day. In the case of Jacksonville, this regard is almost nonexistent, as the film industry heritage has yet to surpass the level of an i nteresting cocktail party story. This is not due to its lack of importance, but to the simple fact that it was more or less forgotten in the wake of those leaving town for Hollywood. The only tangible pure remnant of the citys film heritage is the Norman Studios ne Eagle Film City site, which may very well be the only extant intact silent era film studio in North America. Norman
31 Studios Silent Film Museum (NSSFM) has been stewarding this property for the better part of the last decade, and through the acquisition of various grants has been able to bring the site back to its former visual cleanness. As a result, the boutique history of Jacksonvilles lost film industry would be best served by a variety of digital treatments in conjunction with the more traditional preservation methods being carried out by organizations like the NSSFM Summary Digital preservation and hypermedia will never replace traditional, brick andmortar methods. As an alternative to costly reconstructions, digital preservation is highly viable, but it neednt be seen simply as a cheap way to preserve something that it cannot truly replicate. These technologies can always be supplements to the tradition, though, being conceived and implemented alongside the physical effort. Such tools can be immensely successful at reaching a wider audience and serving to promote a project. Furthermore, as mentioned previously, hypermedia and digital preservation tools are well suited to be utilized in situations wherein little or no physical rem ains of a site or sites exist. Taking such an approach to largescale potential preservation ventures makes sense not just fiscally, but also culturally, as society begins to consume greater percentages of its historical data and educational material via the Internet. This does not seem to be a slowing trend, and will probably become an even more complex issue as technologies evolve and combine, making the challenge of effectively packaging predominantly electronic, webbased preservation projects all the more difficult. However, with the difficulty in devising strategies for such projects comes the opportunity to experiment with technologies that have yet to be developed, capable of presenting and interpreting data in ways heretofore unimagined.
32 Figure 21.Exterior rendering of Douglass Theater .Courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg.
33 Figure 22.Interior rendering of Douglass Theater .Courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg.
34 C HAPTER 3 CASE STUDIES OF HYPE RMEDIA PRESERVATION P RO JECTS In order to effectively suggest guidelines for a potential hypermedia preservation project, one must first look to projects already established. In so doing, the guidelines will have the backing of effective precedent and be less susceptible to the shortcomings of previous endeavors. Dozens of hypermediabased projects are currently in development or have already achieved their stated goal. In observing and analyzing a crosssection of the most innovative, successful, and well publicized of these projects, it is easier to establish more effective criteria for future projects, borrowing from these prime examples particularly useful tools or ideas; and learning from their mistakes. This chapter features two focusedcase studies on well publicized and innovative projects on an array of subjects that share similarities with those found in Jacksonville and its silent film heritage. The first study looks at HyperCities ( www.hypercities.com ) ; the second at Historypin ( www.historypin.com ) The following case studies were chosen based on a variety of factors. During the composition of this thesis, the number of case studies has fluctuated, as have the aforementioned factors. Ul timately, the factors that were decided as most important such as cooperability, flexibility, and attractiveness were essentially those suggestions laid down in Chapter 6. Both Historypin and HyperCities exhibit supreme visual friendliness and, because of their reliance on the immensely popular Google Maps API, have a low learning curve. This was important in the assessment of the projects, as any project with a high learning curve that was based on unfamiliar software would not have been considered: int erfaces must be powerful, but simple enough so as to not alienate the average user who has little or no experience with the basic concepts of hypermedia
35 navigation. Both projects are also rooted in geography, which allows for the integration of objects wi th place and permits the comparison of these objects over time. As is the case with all historical events or minutiae, place is a crucial factor and cannot be ignored. The most important factor when choosing the following case studies was their inherent c ollaborative characteristic, which, for the purposes of this thesis, is referred to as cooperability. So important is this characteristic, in fact, that many other well known hypermedia preservation projects were left out of the study due to their lack of it. The ability of a system to allow contribution from all sources, academic or otherwise, is crucial in widening the available resources of the project, as well as endearing it to users who are accustomed to collaborative, but nonpreservationist endeavors like Facebook or Flickr. HyperCities Overview Founded in 2002 as a joint project between the University of Southern California, University of California Los Angeles, and the City University of New York to create a Flashbased mapping textbook of Berlin, Germany, HyperCities has since grown into a multi national, multi institution project with hundreds of contributors ( Presner, HyperCities 1). A HyperCity is a real city overlaid with a rich array of geotemporal information, ranging from historic al cartographies and media representations to family genealogies and the stories of the people and diverse communities who live and lived there (1). Simply put, a HyperCity, as defined by its creators, is a visually relatable aggregation of data in various forms applied to a location intended to tell a story or stories. As Todd Presner writes .. .history literally takes and makes place (5). Much
36 of the significance of such made places being borne of their reaction to and influence on other histories. Naturally, the physical settings of historical events are as important as the events themselves. A location enriched with historical data, and the interplay between both, is easier to understand and appreciate than an abstract model without the benefit of relatable context. The technologies behind HyperCities are both proprietary, designed by a collaborative of programmers, and borrowed from companies like Google, who has already made tremendous strides in hypermedia and global mapping access (1) W hat HyperCities does is combine these technologies to make an interdisciplinary, webbased, user friendly environment that is extensible. Non academic users, researchers, and institutions cans employ HyperCities to create content either for personal or in stitutional purposes. In effect, HyperCities is humanities social network (4) linking together seemingly disparate histories in a geographic locale and providing them accessible mutual context. These histories, as mentioned earlier, could include anythi ng from well known historical events to obscure genealogies, and only when stored in the same placelinked by location and timecan they be truly understood as integral to the oeuvre of a citys history, no matter the size( see f igure 31) Functionality T h e interface of HyperCities is borrowed from Google, and as such, has a built in familiarity for many millions of persons. A user entering HyperCities can access hundreds of maps in over a dozen cities from Los Angeles and New York, to Berlin and Tel Aviv. The maps are composed of the most recent composite satellite imagery assembled by Google (entry level maps, the ones with the highest degree of familiarity) and hundreds of historical maps, which are georectified and viewable either as separate
37 entities or as translucent overlays, a feature which allows the user to easily compare the contemporary space to the historic ( see f igure 32) The experience of comparative geolocation is further enhanced by the addition of nodes, or points wherein data is store d or relayed, each offering points of egress to other, related resources. These nodes, when placed in a specific geographic point, remain there as the user adds and removes layers from the entry level map, a function which allows the user to see not just how a city or neighborhood has changed in terms of plan on a grand scale, but on a potentially personal level as well (Reiff 1 2). A driver of HyperCities personlevel attention is its integration with collaborative collections. Each featured city has m aps representing certain swaths of time, but some HyperCities also contain collections that focus on specific areas of each city and further narrow the scope. This narrowing does not diminish interest, but, as is often the case, helps to make the experience of preservation or even, simply, information, more accessible and relatable ( Presner, Digital Humanities 7). For example, the HyperCity of Los Angeles features a collection called HiFi: Historic Filipinotown. HiFi focuses on the historically Filipin o neighborhood near Echo Park northwest of Downtown Los Angeles. The technology behind HyperCities allows users to see, on a familiar Google Earth map, the area presently composing Historic Filipinotown, and, through the manipulation of layers, how that n eighborhood has changed. Contributors to the HiFi project can submit videos, documents, and other media that help to illustrate and expand the study of the neighborhood. At present, videos have been submitted by residents of the neighborhood engaged in t he areas preservation, many of which are specific to certain families that live or lived in the neighborhood (Blockstein) As
38 mentioned before, these personal stories, though seemingly insignificant in the greater scope of history, make that gr e ater scope more user friendly for the average individual. When the history of a neighborhoodor an even larger areacan be distilled into a discrete unit to which a person can more easily relate, the chance that said person will come away from that history with usable knowledge increases (see f igure 33) Analysis HyperCities, as both project and mission, seems to be successful. It incorporates several tools with a highly extensible technology to, in effect, create a ready made and easily accessible preservation platform. The basic functionalities (map rectification, media integration, and collectioncreation) can be applied to innumerable projects with a minimum of effort. The concept of a humanities social network is an appropriate one, and, given societys acceptance of other social media, familiar as well (HyperCities 1 2) However, the aforementioned concept is more susceptible to misinterpretation and abuse than other, more traditional methods of preservation. Without proper refereeing and oversight, some collections could succumb to triviality or patent inappropriateness. Granted, HyperCities has yet to achieve the wide use and recognition necessary for such misuse, but the more realistic threat to legitimacy is from wellintentioned, but misdirected, project managers. HyperCities allows registered users to create their own collections and share them with the community, but not alter the efforts of others. Furthermore, if an institution wishes to collaborate officially with HyperCities, they may do so after submitting a project proposal. Where HyperCities differs the most from traditional preservation, forgetting for a moment that it is necessarily digital, is in its collaborative, relatively informal nature. While traditional preservation methods are almost always group efforts, they tend to
39 include only those individuals within or affiliated without the profession of preservation. HyperCities does not purport to be a tool only for preservation professionals or even information technologists, but rather a tool, like any other, that can be used in support of myriad pursuits. The approach of HyperCities and other tools like it is integrative with many professions and levels of knowledge. As evidence by the example of the aforementioned HiFi projec t, a local preservation organization with the help of hundreds of unaffiliated, but interested, individuals can collaborate to create a project that benefits both the object (a neighborhood, in this case), its users (the residents and researchers) and, hypothetically, thousands of persons not considered, persons who, through the technology of collaboration, can serve the project further. Ultimately, HyperCities is a fitting foundation for any number of preservationrelated projects, a platform on which lar ger digital efforts can be based, or even bricks andmortar projects can be planned. In terms of what it could do for the preservation of Jacksonvilles silent film heritage, HyperCities could provide a solid foundation for greater research into the relat ionship between the locations of former sites and the city as a whole. Since HyperCities is based on the Google Maps API, it would be reasonably easy for geographically disparate nonpreservationists to contribute to the project. Any ephemera that, over time fell into the hands of archivists, collectors, and researchers across the country and around the globecould easily be processed and integrated via the HyperCities platform. Historypin Overview Historypin was founded in 2011 by an international non p rofit group called We Are What We Do. The aim of We Are What We Do (WAWWD) is essentially to increase
40 web based and real life collaboration between peoples, as well as enhancing said collaboration through novel tools and events. Among WAWWDs contributions to good deeddoing are projects like Internet Buttons, which allows a person to design a simple web based interface for other persons who either have no experience using the Internet or suffer from a disability that limits their understanding and use of it (About Us). In general, WAWWD is based on friendliness and goodwill, mostly via the Internet, which is arguably the most oft used tool for more tasks than are calculable. Historypin handles many of these tasks extraordinarily well and with a savines s for accessibility not shared by the majority of webbased preservation projects. Essentially, Historypin is a web ba sed tool for the sharing of photographs, audio and video files, and stories in a geographical context. Historypin is archival collaborat ion incarnate, a simple way for individuals to upload, geolocate, and discuss the hundreds of yellowing photographs they have stored in shoeboxes and dusty album s. Historypin is not necessarily concerned with the academic analysis of space and the histories that occurring within certain parts of it, but, rather, seems more interested in creating a collaborationfriendly environment where amateur historians and laypersons can keep ephemera that may or may not be of any historic significance beyond that which is held by the submitter (see f igure 34) Functionality Historypin functions much like Google Maps and Earth, which are the software Historypin uses as its foundation. Beyond the visual familiarity of Googles maps and satellite imagery, Historypins interface is all its own, and, given the ambition of the project, well executed and easily navigable. To further endear its users, Historypin operates under the conceit that Google Maps is a massive wall mounted map, and their
41 photographs and videos are pinn ed to it much in the way one would place a tack on a city or country they have visited. When viewing the entire Historypin map, one sees the familiar sight of Google Maps, but now covered in small groups of images seemingly pinned to the points to whi ch they are relevant As one zooms in more groupings become visible, illustrating the projects attention to geographic specificity and accuracy. Clicking on any grouping will open a window showing all the photographs or videos within ( see f igure 36) T he user can either view the images singly, out of context, or in context, at a more focused geographical precision, which, in turn, reveals more images (F requently Asked Questions ). Perhaps the most enthralling feature of Historypin is the inclusion integration of Googles sometimes controversial Streetview software, which allows users to virtually travel any mapped and photographed streets in the world from the perspective of a land vehicle. Historypin allows those submitting images taken within view of t he continuous photography of Google Streetview, to align and overlay those images atop the more recent imagery. Effectively, Historypin allows for amateur rephotgraphy that is flawed only in the poor placement of the submitter, or the poor resolution of c ertain Google Streetview stretches. A good example of how this integration works and works well can be found in the many photographs pinned to buildings and sites at the University of Florida, in Gainesville, Florida. Buildings like the old Womens Gymnasium, now called Ustler Hall, were wellphotographed by the vehiclemounted cameras employed by Google, and, when overlaid by a historic photograph from the 1940s, can be seamlessly compared( see f igures 37 and 38) Much like the opacity function used by HyperCities to reveal lower map layers but still show a ghost of the uppermost, Historypin allows
42 users to shi f t the opacity of the historic, overlaid photography, to reveal the recenter ed photography beneath. Much of the content in Historypin is assembled into collections or groups with unifying themes, some even set up as guided tours. For example, one can view a guided slideshow tour of the Chinatowns of America( see f igure 39) Because of Historypins novel use of Googles APIs, the user is not simpl y scrolling through a reel of lifeless photographs, but navigating Google Streetview with dozens of overlaid historic photographs, each with its own narrative. Given the collaborative nature of Historypin, users are even allowed to contribute their own st ories and photographs, films, or audio files to collections and tours already in progress. Analysis Historypin is a relatively new venture and it remains to be seen whether its success will last and the level of contributions will increase and deepen. As it stands, it is one of the more innovative collective memory and digital public history projects in operation at present. If there is any doubt as to its innovation relative to its dependence on Googles technologies, there can be no doubt as to Historypins usefulness and approachability. Even for an individual unfamiliar with the processes of uploading and geolocating photographs to Google Earth or other similar platforms, the hurdles inherent in Historypin s interface must seem minimal. Historypins u tilization of tools like Google Streetview, which grants users the ability to see historic photographs in context, are novel and, given the short amount of time in which the initiative has been active, very well implemented. Streetviews us ability in Hist orypin will only increase, as simple guided tours in ones web browser could easily evolve into interactive narratives delivered via mobile phone while the user
43 follows the route in question. Furthermore, Google Streetview is an ongoing project itself, co nstantly photographing more streets and avenues around the worl d, thus opening up the possibilities for a wider audience and user base whose artifacts may have heretofore gone unnoticed. One drawback to Historypins provision of content is that it is limit ed, at present, to audiovisual materials, that is, video, audio, and static photographs. There will come a time when users familiar or new to Historypin will want to upload and pin other classes of historic material. For instance, alongside many of the photographs that comprise the aforementioned Chinatowns of America guided tour one might want to attach scanned images of letters or diaries relevant to the inhabitants of a Chinatown. Also, academic institutions with greater resources will desire the capability to upload and pin objects photograph ed in the round, which permits virtual interaction with threedimensional artifacts. These limitations, however, are more a matter of available time and labor than a lack of innovation; with need or desire and t he appropriate means comes new functionality. Historypins focus, ultimately, is on collaboration and sharing. While HyperCities has a decidedly academic lean, Historypin has approached its interface and architecture with the seamlessness and panache of Facebook. That is not to say that HyperCities lacks either quality, but that Historypin has brought them to a level of simplistic interactivity heretofore untested. Historypin is a populist solution that is highly functional and has tremendous potential for expansion across disciplines and will likely see more and more use by academic institutions looking to integrate their own digital libraries and archives with more well known initiatives.
44 Summary The selection process for this thesiss case studies was not a particularly easy one. The candidates were originally very diverse, ranging from projects like CyArk, which scans entire buildings and sites like one would historical correspondence on a flatbed scanner; and somewhat static projects like DocSouths Going to the Show project, which is an interpretive digital platform for the study of North Carolinas historic movie theaters. While those projects and many others like them are certainly worthy of study, ultimately they did not fit the mold this thesis attempted to etch. The key to the selection of Historypin and HyperCities was their emphasis on collaboration, the former being more populist and imagecentered, and the latter having an academic lean with more cartographic possibilities Both projects yi elded positive results that contributed directly to the creation of the suggestions offered in Chapter 6. Historypin, for example, has expertly integrated imagesharing with Google Streetview, a feat that is not just neat but also helpful in establishin g historical spatial references, which aids in interpreting changes in space and scale. This could be an important and useful feature of a potential project interpreting the history of Jacksonvilles film industry, as there are many photographs of industr yspecific structures that are no longer extant, but whose former locations are known. HyperCities, on the other hand, has a well integrated mapoverlay feature that allows for much broader historic comparisons over long time spans While the time span o f Jacksonvilles film industry heritage is not very long, historic Sanborn Fire Insurance maps could easily be overlaid atop modern satellite imagery, giving users a sort of key to building typologies, which could help in determining why certain film indus try specific buildings were built where they were.
45 Despite having much to offer, both Historypin and HyperCities are by no means perfect. As is the case with any project of their magnitude, things are overlooked, and technological barriers are not alway s broken. HyperCities, for example, is often bogged down by the speed of its interface, which, when loading data sets or map overlays, becomes painfully slow. In their defense, the amount of data HyperCities is trying to interpret and make accessible is a tremendous weight on many internet connections and can be worse or better depending on ones location. While purely technical, such a hurdle can detract from the overall experience of a user: if he or she cannot easily and efficiently manipulate the par ameters of the projects interface, the time spent may not be worth the information earned. Barriers like this are usually broken over time, and are dependent upon many factors, including the hardware an entity uses to host its data, the virtual locations of its source files, and the processes by which it compresses those source files. These processes can all be streamlined given things like available time, labor, and money, all of which are necessary and often difficult to assemble in preservation projec ts of all kinds. Historypin, while having the more intuitive and speedy of the two interfaces, does have other issues that could affect its usability. Because Historypin is based on pure collaboration and popular contribution, it can be subject to instanc es of wanton pinning to use the parlance of the project. For example, while using Historypin, many instances of improperly placed photographs were discovered, many of which were not even close to where they should have been placed, and often with incorr ect narrative information. This is usually caused by well intentioned, but misinformed individuals who want to put their historical stuff online for all to see. Persons may, in turn, think this misplaced
46 photograph or its narrative is accurate, and unk nowingly perpetuate mistakes. Historypin does not actively seek out and correct these, rather they rely on the Historypin community to flag suspected errors which are then reviewed by Historypin administrators and corrected if necessary. For content host s like Historypin, giving police duties to their contributors and community makes more sense than expending their own resources; as evidenced by YouTube, Facebook, and many other social networking projects, interested users are more than willing to take on these duties to ensure the reputation and usability of the project. It should be noted that the mistakes mad e by contributors to collaborative ventures like Historypin do not detract from the usability or veracity of the project. Projects lead entirely by academic institutions with no support from the general public are just as capable of making mistakes as those maintained primarily by amateur historians and archivists. There is much to argue when discussing the need for the vetting of contributions to public projects, such as whether the odd mistake limits a projects trustworthiness, but those arguments will not be resolved in this thesis. One limitation of Historypin is its conceit of photography, which governs the entire project. In the main interface of Historypin one can limit or expand the objects viewable on the map by moving a slider closer to or farther away from CE 1840, the year Historypin ascribes as the earliest point at which photographs were being taken. While there were photographs taken prior to 1840(Fox Talbot Museum) it is doubtful many persons own such an old and potentially valuable item; it is also doubtful that most persons own photographs taken at the earliest extent of Historypins slider. On the other hand, HyperCities, whi ch is more concerned with geography and the events that
47 take place in and, sometimes, because of it, is not so limited. HyperCities has a similar slider, but it extends to BCE 2400. Since HyperCities is not primarily concerned with photography, it has the freedom to extend its chronological border to a much older time. There is a question, though, as to whether such a range is workable; the oldest map in HyperCities at present is a CE 1237 map of Berlin, Germany, but most other cities do not have maps much older than the mid16th century. There are some modern maps of Romes HyperCity that attempt to map out the ancient city, though, so there is potential for novel interpretation extending well beyond the beginning of Common Era. Historypin and HyperCiti es are, more than anything else, holistic influences on the proposed potential project of this. There is no one technology either project uses that is perfect for the subject of Jacksonvilles film heritage; the possibilities they evoke when combined with other technologies, novel or accepted, are far more important. Their failures should be avoided and their successes copied and improved upon. Suggestions for the latter directive will be addressed in Chapter 6 as suggestions are laid out for this potential project and others like it.
48 Figure 31.HyperCities interface, centered on Manhattan. Screenshot, HyperCities.
49 Figure 32. Historic Manhattan map overlay on recent satellite imagery from HyperCities Screenshot, HyperCities.
50 Figure 33.Expanded node from Historic Filipinotown collection in HyperCities Screenshot, HyperCities.
51 Figure 34. Historypin main interface, centered over Florida. Screenshot, Historypin.
52 Figure 35. Expanded Historypin envelope composed of historic photographs of Gai nesville, Florida. Screenshot, Historypin.
53 Figure 36. Historypin node showing an historic photograph as a single entity Screenshot, Historypin. Figure 37. Historypin overlay of historic photograph on Google Streetview imagery Screenshot, Historypin.
54 Figure 38. Google Streetview scene from Figure 37 with the overlay removed. Screenshot, Historypin. Figure 39. Historypin guided tour interface. Screenshot, Historypin.
55 C HAPTER 4 HISTORIC CONTEXT: J ACKSONVILLE, 1901 1921 Great Fire of 1901 On M ay 3, 1901, Jacksonville, Florida all but disappeared after the largest urban fire in the history of the Southeastern United States set ablaze almost 2500 buildings across 466 acres, and made homeless over 10,000 persons (Bean 2324). Having started in a mattress factory filled with Spanish moss and dead plant matter, this fire was underestimated and quickly spread from the poor neighborhood of LaVilla to the wealthy neighborhood of Springfield, effectively leveling the built stature of the two neighborhoods. Between these two ends, the majority of downtown succumbed to the flames One of the more famous casualties of the fire was lumber magnate Wellington Cummer's Riverside mansion, a massive Greek Revival edifice that was seemingly eternal. Even the Wi ndsor and St. James Hotels, beloved destinations for vacationing northerners, were reduced to smoldering ash( Crooks 16) Most of the city's cultural institutions had fallen, as well as its densest residential districts, poor and wealthy alike. At the time, what would become known as the Great Fire of 1901 would be spoken of in the same breath as the similarly destructive fir e s in Chicago and San Francisco. H. L. Mencken, the journalist and humorist who was sent to cover the aftermath by the Baltimore Morn ing Herald, famously said of the destruction, "...there seemed to be nothing left save a fringe of houses around the municipal periphery, like the hair on a friar's head"( Bean 25) ( see f igure 41). Aid came from many places, much of it from state governments the nation across, as well as from Canada, the United Kingdom, and Cuba. On a lighter note, there was so much aid given that much of it was unnecessary and, quite frankly, poorly
56 considered. Perhaps unaware of Jacksonville's subtropical climate the Ci ty of St. Paul, Minnesota donated hundreds of fur coats; local Baltimore saloon owners contributed one hundred cases of rye. For the most part, though, the aid given by the many state and international agencies did Jacksonville good and helped to expedite the process of recovery (26). By the end of the year Jacksonville was flush with over 1,000 building permits and the days and nights were teeming with busy workers, and ringing with the crashes of hammers (27) It was this progress post conflagration that pr ompted a bevy of budding young architects to leave their firms in Chicago, New York, and St. Louis to seek fame and fortune in the soonto be Shining City of the South. The first, and arguably the most talented and prolific of these architects, to arrive was Henry Klutho of New York City (Wood, Architectural Heritage 11) Klutho was trained in New York and heavily inspired by the work of Louis Sullivan. His first commission in Jacksonville, along with noted Atlanta architect J. W. Golucke, was a building f or the Dyal Upchurch Company, a Georgiabased lumber and turpentine firm (41) With decidedly European architectural movements in mind, Klutho designed several more buildings throughout downtown Jacksonville, many of which are still extant. Klutho, perhaps struck by the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, quickly became a pupil of the Prairie School and adapted his style to suit. Both his Sullivan esque St. James Building (now the Jacksonville City Hall) and Morocco Temple (Egyptianinspired Prairie style) are curr ently in use and listed on the National Register of Historic Places (52 and 82) Klutho was just one of many architects -a generation of them -that designed the New Jacksonville, the city that would soon become the Winter Film Capital of the
57 World. Arc hitects like Ransom Buffalow, Earl Mark, and Roy Benjamin the noted theater designer, each brought their own paints to the ashstrewn canvas of Jacksonville, and soon the downtown was alive again -this time made of brick and stone, bigger and taller than ever before. In his book about Jacksonville's film history, The First Hollywood, Shawn Bean says of this new, architecturally eclectic and increasingly cosmopolitan city, "The first s tudio back lot had been built "(Bean 30) Soon many studio owners and f ilmmakers would arrive in Jacksonville to take advantage of the clement weather and varied environs, and would discover myriad cityscapes in one city. Major cities like Boston, Atlanta, Charleston, St. Louis and more were present in the buildings designed by the architects who left those cities to set up shop in Jacksonville. The backdrop for any photoplay imaginable was built into the fresh fabric of the city ( see f igure 42). The Studios Arrive In November, 1908, Frank J. Marion, a principal in the New Y ork based film studio Kalem Company, set off for Florida to scout locations and test the water for a possible move, albeit a temporary one. Shooting in places like New York City and Hoboken, New Jersey, Kalem and the many other studios operating in the Northeastern United States had grown weary of the cold, sunless winters that all but stopped major studio productions for more than half the year. Although synthetic light sources were available, natural light was preferred by the discriminating director for its beauty and utility, and for its cheapness by the money conscious studio owner. Seeking to find a place where filming operations could progress unabated (at least due to things like blizzards and monthlong sunless days), Kalem arrived in Jacksonvil le. Marion and his
58 crew established themselves in the Roseland Hotel in Fairfield, a typically Floridian farmhouse with seasonal guests and plenty of perfect views (Nelson 136). Aside from the year round sunshine and comparatively sultry winters, labor was cheap, housing and rental space was inexpensive, access to trains (Henry Flagler's East Coast Railway) and a massive port was excellent, and the city, a popular stop for traveling thespians, was flush with actors easily enticed into doing a movie or two (or five) before their troupe's departure. Kalem had found a nearly perfect city in which to film year round. They output was successful too, affording them the opportunity to relocate their New York studio to a larger building. Among these films was the first one reeler filmed in Florida, A Florida Feud; Or, Love in the Everglades (1909) (139). Despite upsetting the locals with its portrayal of poor whites, it was massively succ essful. Other controversial far e included films with titles like The Cracker's Bride The Seminole Half Breeds A Slave to Drink and The Fish Pirates all produced in 1909. Generally successful in theaters, these films were almost entirely panned by Northern critics. To their credit, though, they were among the first films to feature honest location shooting in an era when a canvas painted with palm trees was the level of scenery to whic h most audience were accustomed (141). Kalem was hardly the only game in town; at the height of Jacksonville's reign as the Winter Film Capital of the World, upwards of thirty studios were operating in and around the city. Among these were companies like Thanhouser, Motograph, Biograph (D. W. Griffiths' studio), Selig, Gaumont, Metro (later Metro Goldwyn Mayer), Lubin, and the Vim Comedy Company. The latter was the home studio to a native of Harlem, Georgia named Oliver "Babe" Hardy. It was in Jacksonville that Hardy began what
59 would be one of the most storied and influential careers in film history. Originally under contract at Lubin, Hardy signed with Vim after his former employer pulled up stakes and left town in 1915. In one year alone, Hardy costarred in thirty seven films with his thenpartner Bill Rudge. The quasi duo acted as Vim characters Plump and Runt, a fat guy and a skinny guy who f ound themselves in myriad comic disasters, perhaps portending Hardy's later work with Stan Laurel in Hollywood(Bean 71) Many other actors of note found themselves in Jacksonville, at the least to be shot in a single film making use of the local environment Lionel and Ethel Barrymore, future Hollywood royalty, starred in a handful of films whilst in Jacksonville; Ethel Burton, a popular comedic actor of the period, acted in several films alongside Oliver Hardy, including the infamous King Bee comedies star ring Chaplin imitator Billy West (71). For many years Jacksonville reveled in this starry glory. Hotels were packed with casts, crews, and tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of a strolling studio ingnue. Furniture stores, an unlikely group to benefit from filmmaking, were flush with cash as studios constantly required new set pieces. Even local firemen were given roles in films, creating possibly the first glimmer of greatness in individuals without theater backgrounds (the undiscovered unknown). Plans were in place to build the worlds largest motion picture production center on the site of Camp Johnston (Nelson 190). This was all in vain however, as things would soon change. Jacksonville lost its cinematic crown and its status as the Winter Film Capital of the World almost in an instant. Studios Leave Several things contributed to Jacksonville losing out to Hollywood, and it just so happens that all of these things happened nearly at once, crushing the town in one fell
60 swoop.First, World War I broke out When the U.S. entered the war the trains that once carried actors and supplies to Jacksonville were leaving them at the station in favor of troops and munitions. Increased traffic in Jacksonville's port allowed a lot of people to get very rich, very quickly. This increase in disposable income raised the city's cost of living, driving up rents and making fuel, electricity, and essentials just expensive enough to stop growth in its tracks. New studios were dissuaded from setting up in Jacksonville, a nd those financially precarious anyway were prompted to uproot and find cheaper territory (B ean 93) Second, despite its relative cosmopolitanism, Jacksonville was still a Southern city, one heavily steeped in traditions and Protestant mores. It wasn't unc ommon for filmmakers to take advantage of empty streets during Sunday church services to stage bank robberies; fire alarms were pulled so directors could get free footage of fire engines; riots were incited; and dangerously real car chases were carried out in the daytime hustle of downtown. There are dozens of examples of some studios' blatant disregard for the locals' way of life. It got so bad toward the end of the second decade of the 20th century that the mayoral challenger to pro film J.E.T. Bowden, John W. Martin, easily swept his opponent simply by driving home the social damage done to Jacksonville by a few rogue studios (9495) Martin administered as the anti film mayor, bullying studios out of their lots and pressuring banks to deny loans to studio executives. Operations like Selig, Metro, and Edison realized they were no longer welcome and packed their sets, props, and equipment and headed west to Hollywood (99) .Finally, as if no other tragedies could befall both Jacksonville and its all but dead film industry, the flu epidemic of 1918 reached Jacksonville (99) In just under a two
61 decades, Jacksonville had gone from a smoldering heap of ash to the Winter Film Capital of the World to just Jacksonville. Summary and Impact It is difficult to accu rately gauge the impact Jacksonvilles tenure as a film town had on the progression of film history and on the industry as a whole. Speculation could be made as to whether there would even be a Hollywood as we know it had Jacksonville retained its status throughout the decades and become veritable machine of culture for the entire world. There are, perhaps, infinite timelines one could construct to determine such outcomes, but history has only the one with which to work. What is known about Jacksonville s impact is that it had one, but it cannot necessarily be easily felt. Jacksonvilles part in film history includes notable firsts, like being home to the first groups of filmmakers looking for gentler climes and more authentic locations; it was home, or at least one home of many, to the largest, most powerful production companies of the era, many of which gave birth to companies still in operation today; and it helped launch the careers of film legends like Oliver Hardy and Gene Gauntier. Rather than looking at Jacksonvilles film heritage as pieces left over of what could have been, one must approach it something that most certainly was, and had a part in a greater picture, one of an industry that would irreversibly change the way the entire world consum es art and information. Jacksonville as a film town was prototypical, possess ing many of the same features and recurring events as Hollywood, like studio buildings, filming in public places, and an industry accommodating socio political infrastructure. Jac ksonville had these things, but as seeds only, which would take a shift to southern California to germinate.
62 C HAPTER 5 JACKSONVILLE AS A SI LENT FILM CITY: I N TERACTIONS BETWEEN T HE CITY, THE INDUSTRY, AND THE PEOPLE In order to understand the importance of Jacksonville as a Silent Film City and how such an entity would be reassembled digitally, the key components of the era and how they interacted must be identified. This chapter will look at two sets of historical entities separated by type: buildings, both studios and cityscape; persons, both film folk and city folk ; and finally, an analysis of how these units interacted to make a silent film city. The studios and buildings will be described as best they can, considering the scant source materials available, and will be contextualized by the stories of their tenants. The individuals integral to the formation and sustenance of the industry will be similarly treated. Setting: Studios and Cityscape Most of the film industry specific buildings that contributed to Jacksonvilles cityscape did not survive the decades of urban revitalization and suburban expansion since the era ended. With the exception of Norman Studios in the suburb of Arlington, no other remnants exist. Through careful research using hist orical city directories, Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps, and other archival materials, the locations of many of these lost structures have been ascertained. The cityscape itself, however, remains relatively intact, many of the eraspecific high rises and blocks looking today much as they did in 1915. This section will look more closely at the places where newly arrived production companies made films and managed their projects (bases of operation); as well as the downtown city core( cityscape ) of Jacksonville itself, and how it contributed to the success of the film industry.
63 Bases of Operation Roseland Hotel Not much is known about the origin of the Roseland Hotel or its jovial proprietor, Ma Perkins. Listed in the Jacksonville City Directory as early as 1904, the Roseland Hotel was located in the unincorporated suburb of Fairfield along Talleyrand Avenue, just east of downtown( Polks Jacksonville 645) Well outside Jacksonville proper, the Roseland Hotel stood out amongst a flat, grassy plain on the edge of the St. Johns River. The hotel itself was made up of several houses, all indicative of Florida vernacular farmhouses with a certain applied folk Victorian flair ( see f igure 51) The grounds of the establishment included three acres of lawn, a bowling al ley, tennis courts, and croquet grounds (Bean 44) Roseland was less a hotel than a boarding house for itinerant performers and theatrical professionals of all echelons and varieties ( Nelson 137) Gene Gauntier one of stars among Kalems crew, wrote, If the Webers, a family of acrobats, were not practicing their act on the lawn before the veranda, the man with the trained goats was putting animals through their tricks, a juggler was practicing his stunts, or the trained dogs were practicing themselves (Gauntier Blazing the Trail ) Many of these acts were local, like the performers with gigs at the nearby Ostrich Farm, or others from as far away as Chicago or New England. From New York City came what would end up being Roselands most famous and impac tful guests, a group of actors and producers from the Kalem Company. Kalem was a film production company founded in 1907 by George Kleine, Samuel Long, and Frank Marion, three entrepreneurs from varied backgrounds. The company found much success in its s hort, eight year run before being acquired by a
64 much larger production company, Vitagraph, but their success originated in Jacksonville ( see f igure 52) Aside from being a founding member of the Edisonorganized Motion Picture Patents Company, Kalem lead the way in locationshooting and setting up stock companies in various geographic areas to capture different environments for its films ( Nelson 524525). The first of these companies was lead by director Sidney Olcott and actor/writer Gene Gauntier, which arrived in Jacksonville, Florida in 1908. It is unclear as to why the Roseland was chosen versus other accommodations in the city, but it is possible that, given the novelty of Kalems expedition, the quaint boarding house on the St. Johns river was simply too idyllic and appropriate to ignore. In all likelihood, however, it was probably cost effective and well advertised as accommodating to itinerant actors. Gene Gauntier, in her memoir, recounts the loveliness of Roseland, and how wonderful it was to simply sit on the main houses wraparound porch, talking casually with Ma Perkins for hours on end ( Gauntier, Blazing the Trail ) Kalems dedication to the location was such that a $400 openair stage was built adjoining the hotel (Bean 44) However, despite the affection Kalem and its Florida stock company had for the quaint boarding house, business was booming and they could no longer work effectively in an ad hoc studio. Kalem would use Roseland as its seasonal base of operations for a few winters, but by 1912 invested in more permanent quarters dedicated to filmmaking, where motion pictures were made year round. Once again, Kalem looked to accommodations at a boarding house in town, though one much larger than Roseland. Kalem ordered the constructi on of what was described as the worlds largest outdoor stage and set upon it one of the three troupes living in Jacksonville year round. By
65 1914, even the alleged worlds largest outdoor stage was proving inadequate for Kalems needs, so the company constructed a glass roofed studio with a $20,000 lighting system and 54x40foot interior stage. ( Nelson 154) ( see f igure 53) Richard Nelson proclaims that such an investment definitely put Jacksonville on the movie map (154). The Roseland is important for several reasons. Though it was not, by todays standards or even those of major studios in the late silent eraa true studio, it was a Jacksonvilles first. The definition of a studio had yet to be cast, so, for the intents and purposes of the ti me and locale, the Roseland was a studio. With this in mind, the Roseland can be seen as the first building to be used as a studio by filmmakers outside of the thentraditional locations of Chicago, Philadelphia, New York, and New Jersey. Furthermore, it was the first location studio, uniquely positioned to take advantage of scenery unattainable in the aforementioned locations. As a piece of scenery itself, the Roseland Hotel was something of a clich. A two story boarding house with cracker influences and touches of strippeddown gingerbread, nestled in a clump of scrub brush and palm trees by the exotic St. Johns must have been exactly what the filmmakers from New York City expected to see when detraining in Jacksonville, Florida. While that notion may, to some extent, be true, the relative cosmopolitanism of Jacksonville was one of the reasons Kalem were drawn to the city. The charming, southern quaintness of places like the Roseland Hotel and its palm trees were in contrast to the burgeoning urban entity down the road. Locationfilming was a novel idea, and given its gumption relative to accepted practice, a potentially hazardous one. The warmth and familiarity of a densely populated area
6 6 were a requirement.According to Jacksonville city phone directories, the Roseland Hotel continued as a boarding house at least for two or three years after Kalem moved out. Their exact fate remains a mystery and the site on which i T sat is now a field amongst other vacant lots and empty warehouses. Dixieland Park and its theater Though it is true that many studios were more than willing to create seasonal and semi permanent presences in Jacksonville, most were not willing to construct their own permanent studio buildings and dedicate investments at least right away. The practice of locationshooting and production outside the safe and familiar environments of the New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia was in its infancy, as was the industry itself, thus trepidation over getting in over ones head was palpable(Be an 52) As in the case of Kalem, existing buildings were used as bases of operations, but most studios that arrived after Kalem did not choose a secluded boarding house on the outskirts of town. In fact, even after companies like Kalem and Thanhouser had already invested in purposebuilt studios, many equally reputable companies insisted on using vacant buildings. The vacant site that played host to the most studios during Jacksonville s tenure as a film town was Dixieland Park ( see f igures 5 4 and 55 ) Dixieland Park was an amusement park built in 1907 in South Jacksonville, directly across the St. Johns River from downtown. Often billed as The Coney Island of the South Dixieland Park was one of Jacksonvilles main tourist attractions from 1907, when the park opened, until 1920, when it officially closed for good(Mann) As an amusement park, however, it probably did not operate at peak capacity and potential for more than a few years, as it was routinely damaged by fires and storms, closing for months at a time. While it was open, however, it was like any other early 20th century
67 amusement park, complete with animal shows, rides, oddities, and industrial exhibitions. It was home to one of Jacksonvilles only roller coasters and was laden with an exotic jungle theme, which was strongly enforced by the fact that one could only get to the park via ferry. Despite being well attended during its first few years of operation, the park was constantly being closed after windstorms and fires damaged or destroyed entire attractions (Mann) The park covered over thirty acres of land on the shores of the St. Johns, across from downtown Jacksonville. Dixieland Park was effectively a trolley park, a type of amusement park popular in the late 19th and early 20th centuries that was cleverly located at the end of many cities trolley lines. Dixieland Park, though not directly linked to a Jacksonvilles old trolley line, was accessible by a ferry that bounced back and forth between the park and the trolley lines final stop(Mann) It is unclear as to whether the location of Dixieland across from downtown Jacksonville was deliberate and tied to its exotic theme, or whether it was simply constructed where cheap land was available. In either case, visitors arrived at Dix ieland after a short ride across a mighty river to an amusement park encompassing a variety of strange and exciting attractions. Patrons of the park could spend their day braving a 160foot bamboo slide called the Dixie Dewdrop only to face a wooden rol ler coaster and perilous parachute drops; or they could meander the grounds visiting such attractions as The House of Trouble, Mysterious House and Dooms Day (both haunted houses and dark rides), or the Fish Scale House, which was allegedly made from 3,700,000 fish scales ( see f igure 56) Dixieland was particularly popular for its theater, which was equipped for stage and screen productions, and as a venue for the likes of John Philip Sousa and Babe Ruth.
68 The star attractions were most certainly the 400 wild animals and other assorted beasts held captive in the Bostock Arena, which served as one of Jacksonvilles zoos ( Nelson 210). In spite of all the interesting attractions at Dixieland, its popularity began to wane in the latter half of 1908 when the ow ner of the Bostock Arenas animals found a more profitable venue and vacated the park. Furthermore, the Dixieland Theater could not compete against downtown theaters like the Duval and Orpheum and closed as a full time pictureand playhouse in 1909. Hai lstorms and high winds were frequently the cause of much damage to the parks buildings, in some cases being responsible for localized, but certainly destructive, fires. The park ceased regular operation around 1910 but found new l ife as a filmmakers pla yground(210). The Dixie Theaters appearance was not congruent with the other buildings at Dixieland Amusement Park. While most structures, including the decidedly tiki entrance gate and dance hall drew heavily from MiddleEastern, North African, and Southeast Asian design sensibilities ( see f igure 57) the theater was boxy and unadorned by exotic decorations ( see f igure 58) Functionally, the Dixie Theater was perfect for stage performances, film exhibition, and, most importantly, making moving pictur es. Not much is known about how, precisely, the space was utilized as a studio, but it can be gleaned from its obvious uses as a vaudeville theater, that there was enough open space and plenty of sets, costumes, and apparatus to accommodate any number of filmic exploits. The first tenant of Dixieland Park was the first independent production company to set up shop in Jacksonville. Motograph, like many independent film companies
69 struggling against the oppressive regulations of the Motion Picture Patents C ompany (MPPC), most likely fled the traditional film cities to find more hospitable (and farther flung) locales. The MPPC was formed in 1907 by Thomas Edison as a sort of film company cartel that imposed regulations on exhibitors and distributors limiting the films they could show to those produced by Trust members. Several companies like Motograph would eventually make their homes in Jacksonville, where the reach of the MPPC could not easily extend.While Motograph was the first to arrive, it is not know whether they actually completed any films, and by the spring of 1910, were no longer an enterprise. Their reason for departing Dixieland Park and Jacksonville is not certain, but it is likely that pressure from the MPPC was too great for a small production outfit to bear, thus causing its dissolution( Nelson 146 147) While Motograph struggled to produce just a single moving picture, Dixieland Park was crashed by William Selig, who along with his company, would prove to be the ailing amusement parks first productive tenant. The SeligPolyscope Company, lead by one of the industrys most brazen and creative showmen, settled down in Dixieland Park in the fall of 1910 and immediately began making films. Selig was known for producing animal pictures and jungle films, movies that showcased exotic beasts and peoples -from distant locales, usually in exploitative circumstances not entirely unlike the mondo films GualtieroJacopetti would produce fifty years later. However, actually traveling to such remote desti nations was not a consideration in the mind of the money conscious filmmaker(148149) Seligs most infamous exploit was filmed as 1908s Hunting Big Game in Africa which was rushed through the filmmaking process to beat the release of an actual document ary being made about Theodore Roosevelts hunting trip in Africa.
70 Seligs version was shot entirely in Illinois using performing lions and a Teddy Roosevelt lookalike; it was released long before the actual documentary and was a smashing success (Bean 666 7) Selig continued filming similar films in Jacksonville, making use of the exotic scenery to produce animal pictures. Dixieland Park became a sort of zoo, serving as holding area for Seligs menagerie of 160 trained animals (Nelson 149) Alongside the bestiary assembled by Selig from his other ventures were delivered fifteen American Indians, who were used extensively in arguably filmdoms first cliffhanger series, The Adventure of Kathlyn(Bean 67). The arrival of these rather peculiar equipments w as covered extensively in both the Florida Times Union and Florida Metropolis newspapers, both papers hailing the arrival as something of a herald, or perhaps a declaration of Jacksonvilles future as a film city. After completing a few dozen motion pictu res in Jacksonville, Selig decided to consolidate his efforts into a single operation in southern California( Nelson 150) The facilities at Dixieland were utilized by myriad production companies between Seligs departure in 1912 and the last large client s in 1916. Essanay, a company formed in Chicago by George Spoor and Broncho Billy Anderson, spent a season in Jacksonville, using the facilities at Dixieland to produce a handful of Broncho Billy westerns, a genre with which the company would quickly become associated. Vitagraph, perhaps the most prolific and powerful of the MPPC outfits, produced 1916s The Ordeal of Elizabeth using Dixieland Park as scenery rather than generic set. Even Edisons own company spent a season making films in Dixieland Park, perhaps due to
71 Edisons familiarity with the benefits of Floridas climate with respect to filmmaking (Edisons winter home still exist s today in Ft. Meyers, Florida) (Bean 67). The final occupant of Dixieland Park before it was eventually reclaimed p iecemeal by the city, was actually a French firm named Gaumont. Though less successful than its chief competitor, Path, Gaumont was one of the first international production companies, maintaining studios and acting troops in both the United States and France. Between 1914 and 1918, film production in France was nearly ground to a halt, as celluloid was needed for the manufacture of armaments during the First World War. Gaumont, however, was able to continue producing films by focusing its efforts on it s U.S. holdings, especially those in Jacksonville. During the 19151916 seasons Gaumont sent two companies of actors and a crew to Dixieland Park in Jacksonville ( Nelson 167168) While there, Gaumont players produced a number of films, four of which are known, under the direction of Richard Garrick. Most of the films produced by Gaumont were likely melodramas with many outdoor scenes so as to make use of one of the many stages constructed in Dixieland Park during its life as a defacto studio. Gaumonts stay in Jacksonville was not long, but Richard Garrick left a very positive impression upon the city, one that helped mollify some of the industrys local detractors, and bolster support amongst average citizens. According to a fall 1915 issue of The Florida Times Union, Garrick invited between fiveand six thousand of the general public to Gaumonts studio at Dixieland to observe the art and business of filmmaking in action. When local church leaders opposed the events start time of 10 a.m. on a Sunday, Garrick gladly rearranged his production so that the event would begin well after regular church services had completed(177, 228) As mentioned
72 previously, such regard for the traditions of locals was not widely upheld by most production outfits. Norma n Studios/Eagle Film Cit y Founded in 1915 by members of the Chicago based Eagle Film Manufacturing and Producing Company, Eagle Film City was the closest Jacksonville came to having a Hollywood style production campus. Eagle Film City was built at the sam e time as Universals own campus, which ended up being much larger, and ultimately, more well known. Universals campus is still in use today, while Eagle Film City spent several decades bouncing between roles as a tire yard, call center, dance studio, and abandoned wreck. Currently, Eagle Film City, which goes by the name of its last producer owner, is owned by the City of Jacksonville and stewarded by the Norman Studios Silent Film Museum (NSSFM). Surprisingly given Jacksonvilles knack for urban renewal, Norman Studios somehow managed to escape demolition over its 97 year history. While it may be the only intact and relatively undisturbed silent era film studio in North America, its importance is not just physical: Norman Studios more or less encapsulates the entire film industry of Jacksonville, as well as its early social history, and remains a sort of embodiment of what was and what could have been for the Winter Film Capital of the World. In 1915, Harry A. Kelly and William J. Dunn of Eagle Film Manufacturing and Producing Company traveled to Jacksonville, Florida like many other northern studios to set up a permanent presence in the burgeoning film town. Dunn and Kelly chose a lot across from downtown Jacksonville in the sparsely populated subur b of Arlington. Locating the studio there was novel, as most other purposebuilt studios were being, or would be, constructed close to downtown Jacksonville, and Eagle would enjoy seclusion
73 and all its inherent benefits (517) The project, composed of fiv e buildings, included a film processing lab, wardrobe and prop warehouses, indoor and outdoor stages, and water tower ( see f igure 59) The campus was ambitious when compared to many of the other singlestage studios in Jacksonville, but paled in comparis on to the massive, 230acre Universal Film City in Los Angeles, on which it was most likely based (517) Eagle was not the most prolific producer of films in Jacksonvilles history, but did manage to snag former Vim Company mime Ferdinand Perez for a seri es of semi popular Tweedledum shorts. This single claim to fame was not enough to maintain a proper following, however, and, after Eagles sole distributor, Unity Sales Corporation, went bankrupt, the studio followed. By 1917 Eagles assets had been ac quired by Superb Film Corporation, which had been organized by former Eagle manager Harry Kelly. Superb failed almost as quickly as its predecessor at Eagle Film City and ceased production by 1918. It is not known whether any films were actually produced by Superb in Jacksonville, only that Harry Kelly relocated to Tampa, Florida, where he attempted similar ventures, all with similar results (516518 ) Eagle Film City sat abandoned for almost five years before it was inhabited by its final and most produc tive tenant, the Norman Film Manufacturing Company. Richard E. Norman came to Jacksonville seeking better opportunities in filmmaking freedom and more clement weather. Born in 1891 in Middleburg, Florida, a small town between Gainesville and Jacksonville, Norman was educated in Tampa and spent the first part of his career making movies in the Midwest (Bean 108109) Norman, at first, produced a few plays and small time theatre productions, but would eventually find a niche as one of the few maker s of seri ous, anti stereotypical all black films. Like his contemporary,
74 black filmmaker Oscar Micheaux, Norman produced motion pictures that cast AfricanAmericans in a generally respectful and uplifting light avoiding the rigid stereotypes of the day. Normans sensitivity was, according to his son, Richard Norman, Jr., genuine, but he was also a businessman, and was well aware of the theretofore untapped market of African American moviegoers. In an interview with Richard Alan Nelson, Norman, Jr. stated: My Da d, of course, was a businessman. But an underlined thought in his mind was the desire to do something constructive to better race relations. Through his films he was committed to helping the black players live up to their potential and show what they were capable of as performers and human beings ( qtd. in Nelson 434). After producing the highly successful and critically lauded silent features, The Greeneyed Monst er (19 20) and The Bull Dogger (1922) Norman decided to permanently settle in Jacksonville, Flor ida. He secured the site of the former Eagle Film City, putting to use its campus of five buildings. When Eagle vacated its facilities in 1918, itleft behind staging, laboratory supplies, and working Kleig lights which were expensive, powerful carbonar c lamps used by filmmakers to simulate day light conditions at night (438) Norman had a complete studio under his control, one that was in operation for most of the 1920s, well into Hollywoods reign as film capital of the world. His studios longevity is almost certainly due to the popularity of his socalled race films which appealed not only to theretofore uncourted black audiences, but to persons of other ethnicities as well, since films like The Flying Ace (1926) and Black Gold (1928) were simply wel l made dramas wit h broad appeal. By the end of the 1920s, Norman Studios production slowed and, by the early 1930s, ground to a halt. Richard Norman continued to distribute and exhibit films in and around the Southeastern United
75 States, but made no more successful motion pictures outside of the occasional industrial film (Bean 122) Today Norman Studios looks much like it did in the 1920s. Due to the restorations made by the Norman Studios Silent Film Museum, Eagle Film City is once again a noticeable compound of edifices on Arlington Road in Jacksonville, Florida( see f igure 510) The job of NSSFM is not yet complete, though. As of this writing, NSSFM is in the process of shifting the ultimate responsibility of further preservation work from the City o f Jacksonville to the National Park Service, whose resources are far greater. While the National Park Service will be better able to execute interior restorations of the sites buildings, and possibly open it up to the public, it is still uncertain, however, if the site will ever be absolutely complete. Since the acquisition of the site by the City of Jacksonville in 2002, the project leaders have had their eyes on a property adjacent to the present NSSFM site(Andino) The stage building, which likely s erved as an interior shooting space, possibly even with an operable wall section, is presently owned by Circle of Faith Ministries, a church organization that converted said building to a sanctuary. It is also believed that the churchs paved parking lot sits atop a concrete pool once used by Norman and his crew to shoot elaborate water scenes (Bean 156) Given the nature of the buildings ownership, it is unlikely that a deal will be reached: the structure now has religious significance and cannot simply be bought. Cityscape In 1908, when Kalem first arrived in Jacksonville, its staff and crew would have been hardpressed to find obvious signs of the catastrophic fire that had all but wiped the city off the map just seven years earlier. According to a 1906 report issued by the Jacksonville Board of Trade titled Jacksonville and Florida Facts the city was
76 cosmopolitan, home to 48,000 persons, a business metropolis, and, perhaps most important, has direct communication with every important city in the United States...( qtd. in Bean 44). While certainly a far cry from places like New York and Chicago, Jacksonville was at least metropolitan enough to make the cameracarrying newcomers not feel like they were in the middle of nowhere. The size of Jacksonville i s, perhaps, taken for granted today, especially after lawmakers consolidated Duval County into the City of Jacksonville, but it was, for the first quarter of the 20th century, much denser and centralized (Crooks 49) This was achieved, one could argue, bec ause of the terrible fire that leveled much of the city in 1901, and that the city may not have developed as rapidly as it has since being effectively rebuilt. Also, it could be argued that Jacksonville, had it not been forced to start over, had its popul ation not doubled in a decade, had it not been flooded with talented young architects, may not have been as attractive a home for northern filmmakers. Prior to the 1901 fire, Jacksonvilles population was roughly 28,000, its skyline was minimal, but more i mposing than any other in Florida, and its downtown roads were mostly dirt(15) ( see f igure 511) As Bean writes, Jacksonville was a low rise cityscape; church steeples and ship masts were the defining postcard features... (Bean 6). Being a city predom inated by its tourist industry and shipping, it must have had a certain sleepy southern charm, one that was, as Bean writes, ...civic possibility in a Petri dish... (6). Most of downtowns buildings were no higher than three or four stories, punctuated by parks and massive hotels like the St. James Hotel, which could accommodate 500 guests, and, unfortunately, succumbed to the 1901 fire(Crooks 16) This Petri dish was overflowing by 1914, when the majority of downtown was rebuilt,
77 this time composed mostl y of stone, concrete, and steel framing, with many buildings reaching seven or eight stories. While many residents rebuilt their razed downtown homes, the rebuilding of Jacksonvilles core prompted many individuals to relocate to the citys growing suburbs. This flight made more room for business oriented structures and all through the 1920s downtown Jacksonville densified and grew t aller, giving it a more northern, metropolitan appearance, like Baltimore or even Chicago. This trend toward metropolitanism which steadily grew during the first and second decades of the 20thcentury, is likely one of the reasons so many fi lm companies stayed in Jacksonville, rather than just use it as a workingsummer camp. They had, at their disposal, a city not a townthat re sembled, from careful angles, just about any major North American city. As Bean writes, The first studio back lot had been built (Bean 30). Klutho and Friends. Almost as soon as news spread of Jacksonvilles devastation by fire, a young New York architec t with hopes of being the next Louis Sullivan was on his way to Jacksonville to make his mark on a fresh, though charred, canvas. Henry John Klutho, who studied design at Schenks Drawing Academy in St. Louis, moved his practice to Jac ksonville in the sum mer of 1901 in response to a call for new architects to assist in the rebuilding of Jacksonville(Wood, Architectural Heritage 11) Kluthos first commission was to design a building for the Dyal Upchurch Company, a Georgia lumber concern that immediately moved to Jacksonville after the fire. The Dyal Upchurch Building, which still exists today, is six stories and was the first highrise to be built after the fire. The structure looks as if it is built around a steel or concrete skeleton,
78 but it is actually a load bearing brick building built atop wood pilings, with cast iron columns and I beams supporting its interior (41) ( see f igure 512) The Dyal Upchurch Building was just the first of many buildings Klutho would contribute to the skyline of Jacksonville. In 1908, Klutho designed the sevenstory Y.M.C.A. Building on Laura Street, which has the distinction of being Floridas first large reinforcedconcrete frame structure(72) ( see f igure 513) That same year, Klutho designed the Bisbee Building, a tenstory skyscraper that may have been the first reinforcedconcrete frame highrise in Florida. It was a textbook expression of early 20th century highrise design systems and aesthetics incorporating broad, plateglass windows and seeming to bear little weight as it rises up above its neighbors (60) ( see f igure 514) In 1911 Klutho exercised his talents to design the Florida Life Building, an elevenstory skyscraper keenly adorned in complex terracotta ornament and Chicagostyle windows, no doubt a nod to Louis Sullivan and the Chicago School (68) ( see f igure 5 15) Klutho designed many nonhighrise structures during his career, and to some is known more for his dedication to The Prairie School. He built his own residence on West Ninth Street in the Prai rie Style (191) ( see f igure 516) He played with said style when he was afforded the opportunity, which was usually when he was in charge of all aspects of the project. Next door to his own residence he constructed Prairie Style apartment building, now known as Klutho Apartments (211) ( see f igure 517) Like many of his other Prairie experiments, Kluthos apartment building has a very generous eave, lead glass windows with geometric designs in a cross motif, and a certain, perhaps inexplicable abstract E gyptian quality. The aforementioned quality is no more apparent than in Kluthos Morocco Temple, which seems to evoke both the Prairie Style and
79 Egyptian Revivalism. Some aspects of the latter are explicit, as in the buildings entrance, which is framed in a pylon supported by ancient Egyptianstyle columns, and flanked by a pair of Sphinxes The rest of the structure, however, has more in common with Frank Lloyd Wrights Unity Temple, which could easily have served as inspiration for Klutho(82) ( see f ig ure 518) Klutho designed many homes and highrises in Jacksonville, but also dabbled in the film industry, building, perhaps, the last purposebuilt studio in Jacksonville. Klutho Studios was constructed between 1916 and 1917, when most other studios began relocating to Southern California. In 1905, Klutho purchased a corner lot on West Ninth Street in the Springfield neighborhood of Jacksonville, but did not develop it until his studio investment venture twelve years later (190) Presently there are s everal homes on the site, one of which possibly having been built around 1907 and serving as a dormitory for actors after Kluthos studio was completed ( see f igure 519) The studio building itself included a 60 by 60 foot indoor stage, and a 40 by 144 foot outdoor stage with a sunshield system that could be opened and closed via a system of pulleys ( Nelson 527) (Figure 520) Klutho furnished his operation with equipment purchased from the then defunct Kalem Company, which had been Jacksonvilles first s tudio to enter the citys fold. Klutho Studios was the name of the campus, but Kluthos Sunbeam Comedies brand graced many of the motion pictures made there. Kluthos studio manager, Glen Lambert, wrote many of the photoplays for said brand, and also a ssisted Klutho in attracting several popular companies to rent the studios. Among others Paramount, comedian John Binneys Florida Funny Film Corporation, Briggs Pictures, Inc. all rented space at Klutho Studios. Though productive, Klutho Studios
80 steady stream of occupants ended in 1922, forcing Klutho to abandon his investment. Klutho later recalled this disappointment stating At the time I was pointed to as a man of vision and ideas for the good of the town later I was often told I was a fool. ( qtd. in Wood, Architectural Heritage 190). Klutho could not have known the impact he would have not just on the citys architecture, but also its attitude and, perhaps in some ways, its choices. Klutho and the dozens of other young architects that relocat ed to the wrecked city from the metropolises of the north more or less drove the shape and appearance of the city for almost thirty years. Klutho brought with him his Chicago and Prairie School sensibilities; Ransom Buffalow his affection for vernacular North Carolina bungalows; Henrietta C. Dozier brought her M.I.T. training and eclecticism; and Harold Saxelbye a British perspective and a penchant for commercial buildings (8 13) It is reasonable to suggest that many of denizens of downtown Jacksonville, and the city as a whole, felt like a brand new city, a bigger, fuller city, had just suddenly sprung up over night and turned their modest tourist town into a City of the World. Beans comment about Jacksonville being the first studio backlot is a way of f raming the citys resemblance to places like New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia, the traditional centers of film production prior to the rise of Hollywood. Jacksonville in the early 20th century was not unlike the Vancouver, British Columbia of today, which has been serving the American film and television industry for many decades as an inexpensive alternative to filming in New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago. Vancouver has a very dense downtown core and a cityscape and social makeup like many North Ameri can cities with a diverse array of architectural styles and ethnicities.
81 However, it was not just the eclectic architecture of Jacksonville that made it a virtual backlot, but its access to a massive river lined with marshes that could easily pass as the N ile; its closeness to the Atlantic Ocean and wide, uncrowded beaches; and weather permitting year round production. Jacksonville was nearly a complete package, able to accommodate the imaginations of most of the periods filmmakers. When the industry col lapsed in Jacksonville, and its studios fled to California to join the other companies who had been doing so all along, filmmakers found the backwater town in Southern California they may have expected to find in Jacksonville, Florida. It was not a change in Jacksonvilles physically desirable characteristics that caused the filmmakers to flee, but political and social forces amongst its denizens and communities outside of the city. Like many other American cities in the 1950s and 1960s, Jacksonville underwent a significant amount of urban renewal, drastically altering its skyline, density, and society. Today Jacksonville is considerably spread out its effectively deserted downtown core no longer a dense mix of businesses, homes, and entertainment venues City Folk and Film Folk City Folk: J.E.T. Bowden Jacksonvilles film industry could not have had the success it enjoyed had the citys leaders not supported it. To be sure, this political support waned significantly at the beginning of the 1920s, but for much of the industrys stay in Jacksonville, conditions were supreme. Much of the championing and support for the film industry can be attributed to one civic leader, mayor J.E.T. Jet Bowden. Bowden had been mayor of Jacksonville in 1901 during the G reat Fire and was credited with being the spiritual force behind the quick recovery. As mayor, Bowden was highly visible in the
82 days and weeks following the fire, doing everything he could to assist the victims, both at an administrative level and a personal one. By the time the mayors twoyear term ended in June of 1901, he declined to seek reelection, citing exhaustion (Bean 8788). In 1915 Jacksonville was amid a local recession and had only the burgeoning local film industry to distract from it. Civ ic support for the film folk and their craft was by no means cold, but it was probably not as concerted as it could have been. At this point, J.E.T. Bowden swept in, defeating powerful incumbent Van C. Swearingen, promising to restore business confidence and through a liberal administration redirect city efforts towards attracting new industry. ( Nelson 164). It is debatable as to which of Bowdens many platforms earned him the mayoral office, but some suggest it was his stance against Swearingens ant i vice campaign, which called for the closing of Jacksonvilles popular red light district and many of its saloons. Bowden had the support of progressive women, conservative men, and, with his protolerance ideology, AfricanAmericans, Jews, and Catholics ( Crooks 64). Ultimately, it was his liberal administrative plan with respect to the film industry that would alienate him from much of Jacksonville s suburban population and cost him reelection in 1917. Mayor Bowdens main thrust was in wooing more and more filmmakers to relocate to Jacksonville, and not just as seasonal visitors, but as permanent industrial entities. His approach was systematic, convincing the Jacksonville Chamber of Commerce to produce an industrial report of the city placing as many laurels as possible upon its characteristics as a desirable film town ( Nelson 165). Bowden even stirred up support among his constituents asking residents to submit recommendations for shooting locations. A campaign was begun by Jacksonville, with Bowde n taking lead, planting
83 advertisements in national film trade journals describing Jacksonville as the hub of the countrys film industry (483). An upsurge in producer relocations occurred between 1916 and 1917 leading to a weekly influx of roughly $30,000 into Jacksonville s economy (483). At a more administrative level, Bowden spearheaded many efforts to increase the overall dependence of American filmmakers on Jacksonville. In 1916, Bowden established a studio location bureau to help incoming filmmaker s find a proper site for their studio and assist them in acquiring loans from local banks. Bowdens most powerful attempt at luring filmmakers to Jacksonville came in early 1916 when the Florida Times Union announced that civic conditions in Los Angeles were becoming unsympathetic to that citys filmmakers. California producers felt they were the victims of price gouging and censoring at the hands of local businesses and civic leaders. As a result, many production companies threatened to pull their oper ations and move elsewhere( Nelson 171) Bowden immediately jumped at the opportunity to lure these companies to Jacksonville promising suitable atmospheric conditions, politically and meteorologically. Though tempting in light of the civic repulsion in Los Angeles, Bowdens offer was never accepted, at least not by a critical mass of filmmakers. Despite this disappointment, Bowden continued to champion the industry and look for more ways to lure producers.In 1916, Richard Garrick, former head of Gaumonts Jacksonville studio, came to Bowden with a plan to construct a fiveacre rentable studio to rival Universal City in Los Angeles. This proposed planwas to provide space for up to twenty production companies to work simultaneously, a complete processing laboratory, set building shops, garage space for dozens of automobiles, and
84 lavish restaurants and lounges. Bowden gave this plan his full s upport, but it never bore fruit (176). As explained in Chapter 4, this push by Bowden to make Jacksonville the one and only film city in the United States was his final one: in 1917, in what was more of a film industry referendum than an election, Bowden was usurped by conservative John Martin, w ho was vehemently anti vice and, in some ways, anti film industry. Due to t he alleged abuses by Bowden of Jacksonvilles government to cater to film folk, and the myriad instances of dangerous car chase scenes, false fire alarms to draw crowds, and other unseemly filmmaking practices, Bowdens campaign was almost unwinnable. Pub lic sentiment had shifted away from the positive aspects of Bowdens tenure and the industry he helped to promote, and toward the social and political incompatibility of film folk with the more religious, anti vice, prohibitionist sectors of Jacksonville s population. After Bowdens defeat, the film industry held on as best it could amid fresh anti film sentiment, which was helped along in no small part by Bowdens replacement, John Martin. Slowly but steadily, filmmakers abandoned Jacksonville for Los Angeles and surrounding municipalities. Even Garrick, whose massive Bowden backed studio was under construction, decided to uproot and abandon the project and the city (Bean 99). Several attempts would be made by local entrepreneurs to revitalize the indust ry in Jacksonville, but without the support of a committed civic leader, especially a mayor, the film industry was doomed. Bowden was perhaps such a staunch supporter of the film industry because he believed it to be an industry that could rescue the city from its recession and bring stability to its economy over the long run. His plans were, for all intents and purposes, fruitful; he was able to increase the flow of money into the city,
85 attract new businesses, and promote the city as a center of not just filmmaking, but of a unique and powerful business typology that also happened to be, arguably, the defining art and entertainment form of the 20th century. Unfortunately for Bowden, and Jacksonvilles status as the Winter Film Capital of the World, the Movie Mayor was faced with a great and nearly insurmountable social barrier erected by a city deeply rooted in Christian ethics that, at the time, were influenced by a nationwide anti vice, anti film, and moralistic movement. Film Folk: Oliver Hardy When Oliver Hardy arrived in Jacksonville in late 1913, he was more mindful of being a working singer and vaudevillian than a film actor. After spending some time unofficially at the Atlanta Conservatory honing his vocal talents, Hardys mother, Emily enrol led him in Georgia Military College in Milledgeville. Hardy was only fifteen years of age when he entered the academy, but was already a stout 200 pounds and immediately earned the name Fatty Hardy. It did not take very long for Emily Hardy to take pit y on her child and pull him from the rigorous, military focused school and enroll him in a more progressive institution, the secluded Young Harris College in the mountains of northeast Georgia(Louvish 4546) A memorial plaque in Harlem, Georgia, Hardy bi rthplace, claims he did not attend a secluded Methodist college in the Appalachian Mountains, but went straight from his musical training in Atlanta to the University of Georgia, where, it is claimed, he studied law (31) As Simon Louvish points out in hi s biography of both Hardy and his eventual partner Stan Laurel, The boys sights were already set, not on established professions, but on the open terrain of show business. (47) Hardy never did attend the University of Georgia, but by 1910 a U.S. Natio nal Census reports him being occupied at an electric theater in Milledgeville,
86 Georgia, where his very short academic career began(47) It was from his job as a projectionist in Milledgeville that Hardy learned the ins and outs of operating one of the many exhibition halls emblematic of Americas newest entertainment fixation. It is not particularly clear why Hardy left his job as a projectionist in Milledgeville, but it is safe to assume that he had at least heard tell of the burgeoning film colony just 2 00 miles away in Jacksonville, Florida. Hardy was not quite settled in Jacksonville during the remainder of 1913, but did manage to find a wife, Ms. Madelyn Soleshin, and earn a somewhat unflattering stage name as a frequent act at Jacksonville night clubs and sing ing halls: The Ton of Jollity (64). It was not until 1914 that he got his break. In between his normal daily activities and nighttime performances, Hardy spent time skulking around Lubin Film Manufacturings seasonal studio, which was set up in the old Florida Yacht Club in the Riverside area of Jacksonville ( Nelson 157) At some point he earned the right to run errands for Arthur Hotaling, Lubins local director and manager, which lead to him being cast in the screwball comedy Outwitting Dad ( 1914), which was, as luck would have it, short one 300 pound funny man (Louvish 68) By the end of 1914, Hardy was quite popular with his cohort and Jacksonvilles filmgoers. It was also around this time that Hardy acquired his most lasting nickname, Bab e, given to him, allegedly, by an Italian barber whose shop was near Lubins studio. Whereas his previous nicknames may have denigrated him, Babe would only serve his stardom (Bean 70) ( see f igure 521) Hardy would end up making nearly 100 films in Jacksonville, most for Lubin and Vim Comedy Company, Hardys last employer in Jacksonville. Vim leased the Florida Yacht Club in 1915 after Lubins operation went bankrupt, so Hardy, who was promptly offered a position of prominence amongst Vims
87 troupe, did not need even to change his familiar workplace. Hardy got his first taste of being part of a comedy duo when he was teamed with actor Billy Ruge as Plump in the popular Plump and Runt series (71) Ruge and Hardy appeared in thirty five films together a t least one of which, 1916s One Too Many survi ves today as part of the Internet Archives Moving Picture Archive. After the duo lost its luster, Hardy was teamed with comedic actor Kate Price, who had recently left Vitagraph. Hardy and Price made eleven films together before Vim closed its doors in 1917. According to Richard Alan Nelson, Hardys part in comedic duos could have continued indefinitely had Vims founders, Louis Burnstein and Mark Dintenfass, not dissolved the company after Hardy discovered they were skimming money from the troupes paychecks. The Amber Star Film Company acquired Vims abandoned assets and Hardy moved on to Hollywood where he would soon meet his most famous partner, Stan Laurel ( Nelson 539540)
88 Figure 51.Rosel and Hotel, Jacksonville, Florida.Circa 1909. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, N032768. Figure 52. Trade journal spread of main Kalem Company cast. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, PR07323.
89 Figure 53.Interior of second Kalem studio, 1914. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, PR07335 Figure 54.Entrance to Dixieland Park, Jacksonville, Florida. From The Jacksonville Family Album
90 Figure 55. Birds eye vi ew postcard of Dixieland Park. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project PC1392. Figure 56. View of Dixieland Park attractions. From The Jacksonville Family Album
91 Figure 57. Dixieland Park dance hall. From The Jacksonville Fam ily Album Figure 58. Dixieland Theater. From The Jacksonville Family Album
92 Figure 59 Advertisement for Norman Studios / Eagle Film City, 1922. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, PR07319A. Figure 510 Norman Studios main building, 2010. Photographed by Matthew Mariner.
93 Figure 511. Birds eye map of Jacksonville, Florida, 1893. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, RC03489.
94 Figure 512. Dyal Upchurch Building. Courtesy of the S tate Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, PC1449.
95 Figure 513. YMCA Building. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, PC1506.
96 Figure 514. Bisbee Building. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, N032591.
97 Figure 515. Florida Life Building. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, RC17939.
98 Figure 516. Klutho Residence. Courtesy of Robert C. Broward and Wayne Wood.
99 Figure 517. Klutho Apartments (Residence in foreground). Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, N032979.
100 Figure 518. Morocco Temple. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, SP00798.
101 Figure 519. Klutho Studios lot with dormitories and residences. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, RC12289.
102 Figure 520. Advertisement for Klutho Studios. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, N032786.
103 Figure 521. From left: Pearl Bailey, Bud Ross, Oliver Hardy, Ethel Burton. Courtesy of the State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory Project, RC13265.
104 C HAPTER 6 D ETERMINANTS OF S UCCESS FOR AN INTERPRETIVE HYPERMEDIA PRESERVATION PROJECT OF J ACKSONVILLE S SILENT FILM INDUST RY H ERITAGE So far, th is thesis has discussed both the concepts behind hypermedia preservation projects and how they differ from those of traditional preservation methodologies, and the history and cityscape of early 20th century Jacksonville, Florida and its lost film industry heritage. This chapter will apply the tools of the former to the canvas of the latter. Doing so requires the statement of goals, or Determinants of Success, rather than concrete mandates, as this demonstration of application is meant more as a template than a singularity. While Jacksonville and its film industry heritage are used as a potential case study, the goals outlined should be applicable to any number of preservation initiatives whose resources are mostly ephemeral, and whose foci are no longer extant. In any case, if the Determinants in this thesis are not applicable or practicable in similar situations, the goals should remain the same. Therefore, in addition to establishing mutable, context sensitive activities for realizing a hypermedia pres ervation project, this chapter will discuss the outcomes that should arise from such a project, whether it deals with film heritage, historic neighborhoods, or a single lost building. The Determinants of Success were compiled by observing successful projec ts, such as Historypin, HyperCities, and Google Earth, and distilling their technological characteristics into a straightforward set of abilities that serve the ultimate goal of interpretive success. Furthermore, these Determinants were refined by the inc orporation of ideas and sentiments inherent in Freeman Tildens principles of interpretation (see page 25 ) In order to make the proposed activities more conceivable
105 they have been applied to a single facet of a potential project wherein Jacksonvilles fi lm heritage is mapped both as geographic points and narrative envelopes, or more relatable, scalable histories. The facet to be illustrated is Oliver Hardys career in Jacksonville. Doing so will hopefully make what could easily just be an abstract templ ate more imaginable and significant. Therefore, this chapter will tend to each Determinant and the activities therein individually as raw concepts and then apply them to Jacksonvilles film heritage. These D eterminants are practical, in the sense that they address hypermedia technologi es and suggest they be utilized alongside the core principles of preservation; they will also be philosophical, in the sense that the aforementioned tools be utilized not just for their own sake, but in ways that effectively communicate the heritage projects goals. Ability to Succeed. T he project should afford its subject matter the attention and coverage it deserves, but focus itself on doing that which increases the chances for success. Success, as defined by this thesis, would be the fulfillment of the following goals. This might mean holding off on some aspects of a subject matter in favor of others that are more resourcerich and salable. This is the primary goal, of which the remaining goals are in pursuit. Relatabilit y and Palatability The project and its tools should be as palatable, or attractive and user friendly to its intended audience as possible, eschewing the highest technology should it prove difficult to translate to the subject, or too difficult to teach t o the user in favor of the most effective ones Furthermore, the project should be generally relatable to the average user, for whom the projects tools are ideally tailored. The subject should be tightly packaged and delivered in a way that informs the user, but
106 is small enough to be consumed with a minimum of loss. Visuality and interactivity are necessities. Flexibility The projects technological foundation should be permissive of change to both its own makeup and to the organization of the subject m atter. The project should utilize tools that are interoperable with those of other, similar projects, and have the flexibility to adapt to reasonable advances in related technologies. Cooperability The projects technological foundation should be permissi ve of contributions made by a variety of entities, including institutions and individuals classified as citizen archivists. Rather than relying on a single source of archival input, the project should philosophically be open to submissions of materials related to the subject for inclusion in the publically viewable project site. Considerations should be made for the vetting of such material for general appropriateness and in terms of scope and relevance. As mentioned earlier, for this document only one narrative envelopeor facewill be addressed in great detail. As mentioned earlier, the Jacksonvillebased career of Oliver Hardy will serve as the representative of the rest of the citys film related historical events. To reiterate, the reasoning behi nd this decision is that Oliver Hardys time in Jacksonville is well documented, highly visual, more relatable or familiar to the average person than other aspects, and, because of the actors popularity, lends itself better to cooperation with present day archivists and enthusiasts. Were this project to be undertaken, it is hoped that such a focused approach would serve well, at least, as a prototype for a larger scale initiative. Ultimately, given the primary goal successthis is the clearest course.
107 Ab ility to Succeed Overview The ability of a project to succeed is dependent upon more than one factor. Factors like funding or even sufficient funding, can, if not satisfied, bury a project before it leaves a productive brainstorming session. If proper funding is achieved, it can be assumed that the underlying concepts and goals of the project were cogent and maybe even acceptably establishment challenging, but certainly fathomable. Once lifted from paper and put into practice, these cogent concepts can betray their creators and inhibit attainment of whatever goal was set forth. Some project goals can be too lofty, some can have too little ambition, and others can simply fail due to an unanticipated lack of interest in the target audience. Risks are simply a part of project origination and cannot always be avoided, even with the most astute managers wielding wellcrafted ideas. One way to approach a project with a fairly grand scale, one like the mapping and interpretation of Jacksonvilles film heritage, can be to segment it into stages. The first stage being a sort of prototype from which a larger entity could blossom, but upon which it would not be dependent. This first segment would be compartmentalized but expandable; it could be built upon seamless ly, or remain functional in and of itself in the event funding is cut or some other unforeseen failure. Ideally, the first segment would be something indicative of the greater project, encapsulating in a smaller package, on smaller scale, that which the greater effort would attempt to convey. Approaching a project, digital or otherwise, in such a way ensures that if the project cannot be extended, that some justice has been afforded to the subject matter, and that any losses sustained from failure would be minimal. Ultimately, one must choose a
108 constituent of the overall project that can stand in for the whole, and that constituent should be one that will give the overall project the best chance for success. Application to Jacksonville A project attem ptin g to map and interpret the entirety of Jacksonvilles film heritage from its humble beginnings to its alarm ing ly quick decline would be a large one, to say the least. Its level of success would be difficult to determine relative to the popularity of and interest in, the subject of film history, among other factors. In order to help ensure (or simply attempt to ensure) one must find the facet or facets of his or her project that will be the most successful, either through the inherent interest in those facets, or their robustness. Doing so will help generate interest in possible later additions and demonstrate the technologies used. In the case of Jacksonville and its film industry heritage, one untapped well of information likely to generate interest and support is the time spent in the city by comedic legend, Oliver Babe Hardy. While there are many interesting facets to the film industry heritage of Jacksonville (Norman Studios, politics, famous firsts etc.) the early career of Oliver Hardy is relativ ely unstudied. It seems likely, however, that were it given proper attention and investigated fully, it would prove a worthy subject for a digital preservation project. Furthermore, given the compactness of both Hardys early career and the span of Jacksonvilles reign as Winter Film Capital of the World, it is appropriate and convenient to use Hardy as an insight into the industry as a whole. As related in previous sections, Oliver Hardy came to Jacksonville looking for work in the nascent film industry, as did many others. Few, however, were as successful as Hardy, who would go on to California just before Jacksonvilles tenure as a film town came to a close and find lasting success as part of legendary duo Laurel and Hardy.
109 Though for the purposes of this study Hardy should be considered a narrative standin, or perhaps a framed narrative, for and of Jacksonvilles film industry, the city itself would not see the same success as its most famous professional progeny. However, it is his longevity and r elative success while in Jacksonville that make his time there so crucial to understanding the citys importance as a film town. Hardys fame has surpassed that of many of his contemporaries, many of whom worked in Jacksonville, certainly to the point wher e persons unfamiliar with the breadth of early film history might still know of the comic and his exploits. It is hoped that were a project along these lines to be carried out, that its users would find some connection with Oliver Hardy, whether they knew of him prior or not. Even though there are myriad archival resources related to Hardys time in Jacksonville, and enough data to serve as a solid foundation for an interactive digital preservation project, it is still the man himself who must be presented in such a way that the enduser can relate. Only then will the successes of both the archives and technologies utilized be successful. Relatability and Palatability Overview Hypermedia are necessarily audiovisual, and can be thought of as interacti ve front ends to seemingly disparate data. In order for a project to be usable by the general public, and easily accessi ble to researchers, it must be intuitive. HyperCities and Historypin, for example, are successful in part because of their usage of the Google Maps API, which most internet savvy individuals use often, or of which they are at least familiar. Both projects take canny software and make it their own, using it as a basis for data that might not otherwise be related geographically, or even v isually. In this sense, HyperCities and Historypin are instantly palatable; therefore they do not need to
110 convince users of their effectiveness. Other preservation projects should strive for such instant inclusiv ity Visuality, as it is to be understood in this thesis, should be tied to the term interactivity. Interactivity is important to both the palatability or attractiveness, of an exhibition as well as its salability. In the case of a hypermediabased preservation project, an experience could am ount to simply controlling the parameters of a layered map and manipulating it to fit the users needs. Rather than simply viewing data and processing it as abstract concepts, or being forced to view it from one perspective, interactivity allows the user to take part in the presentation and tailor it. The onus is on the preservationist and project designers to craft an experience with a low learning curve that makes gentle suggestions about what a user should do to get the most out of his or her experienc e. If the presentation is uninteresting and demanding, it is more likely its users will feel alienated and be unable to find the information they seek. Furthermore, if users abandon a project because of its poor execution, the subject matter will ultima tely suffer: effective exposure is often the best way to ensure the longterm viability of an important piece of heritage, especially if it is not widely understood and mostly inextant, with few landmark reminders Interactivity can cultivate a productiv e experience for the user, enhancing his or her retention of the information presented, as well as reinforcing it. There are no immutable criteria for designing an attractive, easily navigable, and intuitive interface. What works for one project will not necessarily work for another. It is up to the projects designers to determine the needs of their audience and determine which technologies are best for visualizing the data they wish to interpret.
111 The film industry heritage of Jacksonville lends itself well to visuality, or visual interactivity. The product of the industry --film --is an inherently visual medium, one which is instantly palatable, if not always interesting or unique. Whats more, being silent films, the products were highly dependent upon v arious other media like music performed in accompaniment, or sound effects performed behind the screen during exhibition, thus making such a subject even richer a source of hypermedia potential. The most obvious implementation of visual media in such a project would be the films themselves, the ones made and produced in Jacksonville. This path, however, would yield few results. Few films, complete or otherwise,made in Jacksonville survive today. Perhaps the only featurelength example is 1926s The Flyin g Ace produced by Richard Norman with an all black cast (which is, in and of itself, worthy of dedicated study). Additionally, while there are copious records of the names and plots of the commoner, shorter, oneor two reel films, few exist in a viewable state. Application to Jacksonville At least o ne film starring a young Oliver Hardy, One Too Many (1916) is publically available, digitized and online in the Internet Archive ( www.archive.org ) One other, Bouncing Baby (1916) allegedly stars Hardy, though there is some doubt as to the true identity of the films rotund villain. During the research for t his thesis, it was thought that Bouncing Baby did star Oliver Hardy, as he was credited as an actor in it by several sources, including the Internet Movie Database ( www.imdb.com ) the Florida Memory Project ( www.floridamemory.com), and the Jacksonville Historical Society. However, later research revealed One Too Many which undeniably stars Hardy. Comparison of the films side by side leads one to realize that the rotund villain i n Bouncing Baby isnot Oliver Hardy, but a similarly sized comedic actor. Furthermore, the production company
112 tied to Bouncing Baby Nickelodeon Films, was not one for whom Hardy is recorded to have worked. Despite the doubt as to Hardys involvement in the later film, i t is indicative of the simple yet entertaining farcical faire produced by the majority of companies in Jacksonville, but as a historical artifact, is effectively a moving visual record. Several scenes in Bouncing Baby were shot in Riverside Par k and its surrounding residential neighborhood; Riverside Presbyterians Old Brown Church; and includes a rather lengthy chase scene filmed along what appears to be Main Street heading toward the ferry station to South Jacksonville. Through some careful analysis of this film, it would be possible to accurately identify certain landmarks (extant or otherwise) and establish them as nodes within a visual interface (see figures 61, 6 2, and 63) In other words, such a visual record as Bouncing Baby is rich enough in data that it can serve as a narrative envelope in a visually interactive environment. Compiling the history of a period of time into a manageable package, or envelope filled with data arranged in a narrative, will make the information more pal atable to the user and more relatable. A film is a convenient guide for such an envelope since it is a ready made and widely understood medium that also happens to feature scenery a modern inhabitant of Jacksonville might recognize and that analysts can i dentify through careful study. Every identifiable structural datum can be extracted from the film (building, park, street etc.) and located on a map, both modern and historic. Furthermore, the clothes, vehicles, and other nonstructural elements can be i dentified and addressed as props (to use an apropos term) indicative of the period. All these data can contribute to the narrative envelope, from which any particular datum could be extracted and viewed within the context of the projects theme or without
113 In practice, this visual interactive environment would be on the familiar platform of a map. The map would consist of several layers, the first, or lowermost, being the most recent map of Jacksonville available. Above it would be various maps, georect ified, or positioned to accurately integrate with the modern top layer of Jacksonvilles layout from the final years of the industrys prominence back to its inception. The layers, however, would not be the focus of the interface; the maps should be the basis of the project. The focus will be the objects embedded in the map, organized as nodes which could either be viewed in toto as an explosion of objects, or bunched together in definable subjects or classes (envelopes) In either view mode, the objects of interest should be both apparent and unobtrusive. Ideally, selecting an envelope or node would open a window, similar to a dialog box in a conventional operating system, but anchored to the map. Within the confines of the box could be any number of hyperlinks, each capable of taking the user to information within the project site, or to any number of relevant sites throughout the Web.As evidenced by the work done by in HyperCities and Historypin information nodes can contain various types of data, including, but not limited to, images of brochures, newspaper articles, or other ephemera; biographical metadata; and highresolution historical architectural plans. The informational tidbits to which these links could serve as gateway are varied, especiall y in the case of Jacksonvilles film heritage. Furthermore, since available films do exist that show large chunks of the downtown core, still photography could serve as points of reference to a video of a film. For example, a route could be drawn on a map of Jacksonville showing the path taken by the villains in the aforementioned film, Bouncing Baby Along the path could be
114 nodes, each one containing both data relevant to the films geographical contents at that point in its running, as well as non filmic, but contextually appropriate data. These data could be buildings, like Riverside Presbyterian Church, which was originally founded in 1911 in a refurbished cow shed and appears in Bouncing Baby. The Old Brown Church was razed in 1927 to allow for the construction of the building that now stands in its place. While irrelevant to the plot of Bouncing Baby the entire life history, or narrative, of that building and site is crucial in understanding downtown Jacksonville, and helps to make the telling of it more palatable to persons of the present day. The history of the film industry and its constituents can be stuffed into dozens of similar envelopes that, when tied to objects, sites, and buildings people see every day, can be relatable(see figures 61, 6 2, and 63) Essentially, what these nodes and envelopes boil down are narrative s, especially in the case of Jacksonvilles film industry heritage, which has a beginning, middle, and end; and, more specifically, in the case of Oliver Hardys time in it. One Too Many is just one of the many films in which Hardy starred or acted, is the only intact extant, and readily viewable film made in Jacksonville starring him One Too Many however, is shot almost entirely in either a private residence or a studio, the location of either scenario not being known. Therefore it would not be a fitting candidate for further visual analysis unless historical documentation concerning the film could be uncovered. The life of Oliver Hardy, though far removed from contemporary readers and users chronologically, is like any other rags to riches success story, a trope with which most people can be fairly sympathetic or at least respectful. As mentioned in Chapter 2, Hardy spent much time in Jacksonville working for several studio outfits, living in the
115 city, and gaining many lasting relationships as a result. His life in the city began shortly after the industry developed, and ended (with his departure) shortly before the industry collapsed. Hardys time in Jacksonville is closely parallel to the life of the citys film industry, and can easily serve as a convenient narrative substitute for the entire industrys history. Flexibility Overview As noted earlier in this thesis, the ability of a project to change, adapt, and ac cept new and different objects into its fold are not widely shared. Many digital preservation projects have fallen victim to their own ambition, or were designed simply to complete a single, immutable goal. As such, these projects end up internet dead ends and, since they were untended and finished they cannot effectively serve any purpose, let alone the ones for which they were designed. Perhaps the best examples of flexible hypermedia project sare the ones detailed in Chapter 3, Hyper Cities and Histor ypin, which both utilize technology developed by Google, modified by their own developers and designers. The Google Maps API, which many projects use as a foundation, has embedded itself so deeply in the Internet and peoples lives, that its continual exi stence is expected and, in some ways, taken for granted. Google Maps and Google Earth are constantly being updated, improved, and reengineered. Thus the extensibility of Google Maps basic textual building block (XML via KML) translates to t he longterm v iability of the projects that use it If, for whatever reason, the Google Maps technology were to become obsolete, and Google itself was not producing an updated API, projects like HyperCities and Historypin would certainly be impacted, but not necessaril y to the detriment of the essential data. While the visual interface might
116 become corrupted, the mark up language that contains the data (descriptions of ima ges, films, documents etc.) would remain and, because of its flexibility be able to reintegrate i nto future systems. Naturally, in such a hypothetical situation, the downfall of a major social tool would likely be sensed well before the actual collapse and operations adjusted accordingly. It is impossible to anticipate every trend, or prepare for ever y contingency, but an organization can take steps to ensure the stability of system if not its extensibility by backingup their digitized resources in as many trusted archives and repositories as it can; and by following the standards set by other organiz ations like the Library of Congress. If a system and its resources are secure, the task of reading older data types becomes less pressed, as time does not affect digital files the way it does physical objects. Application to Jacksonville Jacksonvilles f ilm industry heritage lends itself well to the guideline of extensibility, as it can easily be applied to the myriad webbased visual interfaces produced by the likes of Google and Microsoft. As noted earlier in this thesis, history is necessarily geographical; Jacksonvilles lost film industry is no different. In some ways it might be super dependent on geography, as it began due to Jacksonvilles place amongst many geographical features nonexistent in the traditional film production centers. Furthermor e, the city itself was a kind of architectural menagerie, filled with buildings that could be mistaken for the more familiar ones in places like Chicago, New York, and Philadelphia. These natural and still extant built features are all easily viewed as they exist at present via Google Maps and Google Earth; the buildings and sites lost
117 to decay and demolition can easily be represented by the best available archival data and imagery, and integrated into a visual framework. In somewhat the same way Google and its hundreds of technologies are ubiquitous and embedded, so is the life of Oliver Hardy. Granted, Hardys life history is not something with which people interact on a daily basis, but if one were interested in learning more about the comic legend, thousands of resources, reputable or otherwise, are simply a Google search away. The later films of Oliver Hardy and his longtime partner Stan Laurel are still shown in cinemas today, often as preambles to longer films or in the form of retrospectives so contemporary persons are likely to at least accidentally see the actor. There is even a popular convention dedicated to the art of the slapstick film, which Hardy and Laurel helped popularize and refine, called Slapsticon, held annual ly in Arlington, Virginia (What the Heck is Slapsticon?) The question remains, though: how does the extensibility of Google translate to the lasting appeal of an early film megastar as represented and exhibited by a digital preservation project ? There is no guarantee that the appeal will last, but the real concern is that, presently, there is appeal. If Oliver Hardy and his life storys chapter in Jacksonville does have inherent appeal it will be relevant to some sector of society, and, hopefully, for a long enough period to allow significant changes to be effected on a larger scale initiative of Jacksonvilles film heritage preservation. Cooperability Overview Put simply, cooperability is the ability of a system to allow contribution between its constituents and participants. The participants could be organizations, universities, governments, or even individuals. The contributions could be any number of approved,
118 or appropriate, data (images, videos, documents) that help to enrich the project. Such a practice serves at least two purposes: creating academic bonds, or channels, between institutions; and ensuring a project is well stocked with a variety of perspectives. The Digital Library of the Caribbean (dLOC), a cooperative effort between several State of Florida academic i nstitutions and Caribbean academic communities, is a prime example of pure cooperation that serves the aforementioned cooperability purposes. The goal of dLOC is to maintain a continually evolving repository of digital objects accessible to all, regardles s of location or position. What could have easily been an effort executed unilaterally by an institution like the University of Florida or the National Library of Jamaica, inclusive only of a single archives resources, began as a uniquely cooperative project between nine founding members with the goal to include as many partner institutions from around the Caribbean as possible. Presently there are twenty six member institutions from around the Caribbean basin that comprise dLOC, each contributi ng resourc es (About dLOC). While dLOC is a grand example, in both size and reach, cooperability can easily be scaled down to the local level. A digital preservation project concerned with the life of a single, well documented structure should be open to contribut ions not just by the usual sources (local historical societies, archives etc.) but also to individuals, who often have objects and resources unknown to academic entities. It is this contributor type, the citizen archivist that often goes overlooked by many preservation ventures. Citizen archivists (and citizen scientists) have existed for hundreds of years as amateur adherents to disciplines of personal interest to themselves. It is only in the last few decades that these amateur ornithologists, astronomers, film historians, and librarians
119 could promote their efforts through the Internet and a generally welcome and facilitative online community (Cox 1 2) Historically, academic ventures, as well as those predominantly organized by academic libraries, ar e wary of the legitimacy of objects held by private citizens. Within the last few years, though, it has become more acceptable and in some cases highly desirableto open the doors of a project to allow contributions from the general public. Materials contributed simply need to be vetted, with the inappropriate submissions discarded. Alternately, if object submissions are not desirable, the citizen archivist can be employed as a volunteer describer and cataloger. The buzzword for this particular type of project manager worker arrangement is crowdsourcing, though it can be applied to a variety of ventures not exclusively archival in nature. Many digital preservation projects can be stymied by a lack of raw labor and computing power, lacks that can be o utsourced to the general public. The United States Geological Survey employs volunteer archivists to help catalog and convert the hundreds of thousands of bird phenology data cards collected over the decades as part of the North American Bird Phenology pr ogram (About BPP/USANPN) Even NASA has collaborated with citizen scientist projects like Zooniverse and the Citizen Science Alliance to solicit help identify galaxies by shape and color, a task best left to thousands of pai rs of discriminating human ey es (The Story So Far). Naturally projects like these are overseen in such a way that the endproduct is not blatantly inappropriate and only acceptably flawed. Ultimately the benefits far outweigh the small messes made by troublemakers, and the spirit of collaboration and public contribution is reinforced, thus enabling a stronger overall project.
120 Furthermore, as evidenced by projects like Historypin, or projects not underwritten by academic or government entities, are built entirely upon a trust that t here is inherent desire amongst the masses to contribute to a collaborative cause. Historypin, whose cause is most decidedly the furtherance of our knowledge of public history and historical social narratives, is different from the aforementioned citizen archivist programs in that it does not have a critical mass of data that needs interpreting or cataloging; the creators of Historypin saw a need for the smallest histories, those of the average person, to be given a platform on which to be presented and shared. Application to Jacksonville Jacksonville, like many other cities, is brimming with individuals and organizations who own knowledge and objects related to various events and eras in their community. In terms of Jacksonvilles film industry heritage, there is at least one organization in constant pursuit of the preservation and broader awareness of its charge. The Norman Studios Silent Film Museum (NSSFM) was founded by members from Old Arlington, Inc., a local community preservation group, as well as various and sundry interested parties. Their interest, the longabandoned complex that originally house Eagle Film Company, and eventually Norman Studios, has been in their care for the better part of the last decade. While they do not own the property NSSFM acts as steward and advocate for the buildings and that which they represent: the long lost film industry of Jacksonville, Florida. NSSFM is dedicated to the physical preservation of the buildings as well as the history they encompass, and promotes itself and its holdings appropriately. While the members of NSSFM are apt promoters and have been very successful in restoring the site itself, they have not had as much success in acquiring much of the ephemeral materials that fill the shelves of archives and industrial
121 museums. This shortcoming has more to do with the limited availability of these materials than it does the quality of the organization. Limited availability, however, does not denote nonexistence, but rather a blockage in traditional channels of acquisition. This blockage can occur as a result of several things, including the interests of an objects owner differing from those of the project managers; the association of an object with another project, the managers for which being unwill ing to cooperate; and even something as simple as money, the lack of which can stymie the acquisition and digitization of an object. These issues extend into the realm of traditional preservation as well: building owners, not cognizant of what they own al tering, selling, or disusing it in a way contrary to the desires of sympathetic preservationists, often refuse inclusion in a preservation project for a variety of reasons. The mitigation of these roadblocks, and sometimes the act of hurdling over them, i s the responsibility of the preservationist, who must be a diplomat and an effective salesperson for their project. The cooperability of a potential film heritage project could be the best selling point in convincing the traditional purveyors and stewards of archival resources to contribute their treasures. Projects like History pin are essentially troves of historical photographs with accurate geographical metadata. They are made effective because they are open to contributions from the general public, who are usually eager to upload gigabytes of data either out of personal interest or simply for the fun of it. If a site like History pin or HyperCities is more popular with the average citizen archivist, it is likely academic archives will become more accepting of the technology behind it, thus utilizing it. Flickr began as a simple photograph sharing site, but since its inception, has become widely
122 used by organizations for the exhibition and storage of collections. The Florida Memory Project is a good ex ample of this, as it is a state government entity that saw the popularity of a service like Flickr, and how using it could help to advertise and popularize its physical collections. An option for a potential project could be to prefer a novel cooperability interface in favor of a wel l established one like Historypin. The organization behind History p in is presently working on a version which is capable of being embedded, or integrated, with other sites and technologies (Frequently Asked Questions) This would allow a project to sustain a novel look, but use the established technologies of the Google Maps API and unique collaboration interface of History Pin. For example, within such an environment, employees of NSSFM would be able to upload scanned images of photographs, drawings, or even a threedimensional object at their leisure. Furthermore, after a calculated advertising campaign to build support and interest, members of the NSSFM (citizen archivists) could easily contribute materials that could be posted after a necessary review process. Summary The aforementioned determinants are by no means comprehensive and, in many ways may be in complete. They are meant as a catalyst for further discussion and, hopefully, inspiration. Like Freeman Tilden says o f interpretation in his own guide, these Determinants are, ideally, provocative, not instructive. Were they to rely too heavily on instruction, they would become prohibitive of change and ceas e to be effective as catalysts Their intent is to assist in t he conveyance of a message, whatever the subject, and facilitate a system that encourages the recipient to seek more information. Furthermore, these D eterminants were designed not as updates of
123 common practice in the field of heritage interpretation (though they may seem as such), but rather as adaptors to contemporary technologies.
124 Figure 61.Prototype route map with data nodes corresponding to Bouncing Baby. Designed by Matthew Mariner using imagery from Google Maps, YouTube, and the Florida Memory Project.
125 Figure 62. Prototype of route with data nodes corresponding to building objects found in Bouncing Baby chase scene. Designed by Matthew Mariner using imagery from Google Earth YouTube, and the Florida Memory Project.
126 Figure 63. Proto type of route with one opened data node corresponding to a building found in Bouncing Baby chase scene. Designed by Matthew Mariner using imagery from Google Earth YouTube, and the Florida Memory Project.
127 CHAPTER 7 OBSERVATIONS, CONCLUSIONS, AND FURTHER WO RK At the beginning of this thesis, it was decided to address the entirety of Jacksonvilles film industry heritage, focusing not on a desirable facet, but touching on as many personal and urban narratives as would be possible. This proved to beoverambiti ous as it was soon realized that no single study, no single thesis, could ever do justice to the entirety of Jacksonvilles film industry heritage and the thousands of nodes such a project, however hypothetical, would produce. Every aspect, whether it wa s a building, person, or event, lead to more data; as one might imagine, there ended up being far too much information than could be easily digested by both the investigator and, ultimately, the endconsumer of a focused potential project. Furthermore, th e result of the thesis was intended to be a set of guidelines intended as rules for founding a digital preservation project. These guidelines proved too restrictive and unrealistic. In a word, the entire exercise became counterproductive. As the thesis was reexamined, it was discovered that rather than guidelines, a set of simple interpretive recommendations could be made to facilitate the generation of ideas, which could, in time, lead to more constructive and productive guidelines. These suggestions were eventually cast as Determinants of Success, since it was deemed simple characteristics should not exist if they were not in the service of effective production. This process was further simplified when it was decided to focus the application of these recommendations on a single aspect of Jacksonvilles rich film heritage; rather than succumbing to the lure of quantity the thesis instead adopted a qualitative, narrativebased approach. The result, it is hoped, is an efficient analysis of the basic components of Jacksonvilles film heritage, and proposed D eterminant s of
128 S uccess that present an inclusive and indicative aspect of a greater project, one which will hopefully inspire the creation of further suggestions for fresh projects. Further Work This thesis has, over the course of its development and composition, raised almost as many questions as conclusions, many of which are not answerable, or, at least, not answerable within the confines of this project. As mentioned earlier in this document, the provocative nature of interpretation is very important in a persons absorption of that which is interpreted. In a similar way, this thesis should be considered provocative in that it attempts to open more doors than it intends to enter. After the Determ inants of Success were written, it was discovered that a conflict exists between a projects need for data and the insistence that that data be trustworthy, especially if the project is dependent on contributions from unvetted sources like citizen archivis ts and the general public. In the case study of Historypin it was noted that the community at large as an interest in maintaining the projects reputation and is expected (hoped) to police itself for inaccuracies. There are many other methods for the ass urance of quality and accuracy, but further work is required to determine which are best in certain cases, and, ultimately, if quality assurance is completely necessary for the longevity of a hypermedia preservation project dependent on public and academic contribution. It might be desirable to amend the Determinants of Success to include a device for the vetting of contributed data that ensures the quality of the project but does not stymie its growth and flexibility. Conclusions and Observations As an in terpretive tool, hypermedia is probably the best standalone solution for heritage that is no longer intact and mostly present in clouds of archival material. It
129 iscost effective to produce a digital preservation project that uses popular tools like those furnished by Google and other developers, especially when scanning paper materials and creating virtual models of lost buildings instead of pursuing costly reconstructions. It is doubtful, though, that there really are many entities, public or private, th at are constantly struggling with whether or not to reconstruct a lost building or site as part of a preservation project. What is more likely, however, is given the effectiveness of modern hypermedia and digital capture technologies, and their easiness of use, many projects once disregarded as undoable, either because of the lack of physical resources or effective modes of presentation, are now very doable. Also, projects that were both undoable and, at the time, simply not worth the effort, can now be pursued with a minimum of cost and relatively little effort. This is not to suggest that everything that ever happened in the history of the United States, or even the rest of the world, is worthy of a digital preservation treatment; one should always cons ider whether the project he or she is pursuing is both feasible and desirable. As was mentioned in Chapter 2, the Determinants of Success were originally thought novel, but later discovered to be somewhat synchronized with those laid out by Freeman Tilden. Tildens muchlauded Principles of Interpretation were written long before things like hypermedia, the Internet, or even microcomputers entered the collective consciousness of humanity. That is not to say however, that they still arent valid. Tilde ns principles are, in a way, chronologically independent. For example, t he principle that an interpreter must be able to relate to his or her audience and n ot simply drown them in data is more of a truism than a notion, but is not always heeded by preser vation projects, digital or otherwise. The need for palatability and relatability
130 is one of the driving forces of this thesis. It cannot be stressed enough that even the most datarich and useful project can fail if it is not immediately relatable, if the material is presented in a cold, distant, and condescending way. As Tildens fourth principle states, The chief aim of interpretation is not instruction, but provocation. (Tilden 9). That is, arguably, the ideal when interpreting historic sites, digit ally or in situ. One must try to evoke a response from the visitor, an emotional reaction to the subject matter, and doing so almost certainly requires that the subject matter have the qualities of that which provokes, and that which is relatable. Since th e suggestions detailed in Chapter 6 are intended to be applicable to any number of digital preservation projects, it is hoped that this thesis will provide even just a modicum of inspiration and direction to a fledgling project. More specifically, given t he attention afforded Jacksonvilles silent film industry heritage, it is hoped that this thesis will help promote and inspire any projects associated with said subject, especially with respect to the efforts of NSSFM, which could benefit greatly from deeper integration with projects like Historypin and HyperCities, or even a project of their own design. From an archival perspective, there is still much work needed to identify, gather, and analyze the objects relevant to Jacksonvilles film industry The work Richard Alan Nelson did in support of his authoritative doctoral dissertation, Florida and the American Motion Picture Industry 18981980, cannot be understated and is, so far, the most complete survey of resources, buil t and ephemeral, of the period. That being said, the historical newspaper indices, maps, and firsthand accounts recorded and compiled in Nelsons work are static, and, in the several decades since their creation have not been expanded or modernized. The same can be said of many archi val caches linked to
131 unpreserved and unpromoted heritage resources. Many such archives were expertly cataloged or surveyed and painted with minimally descriptive metadata upon their discovery and compilation, but have yet to be mined for patterns and plot s, and interpreted in a way that sheds light not just on their own ephemeral existence, but on that of the heritage, built or intangible, that strains to exist in every city, town, and landscape on Earth.
132 WORKS CITED About BPP/USANPN. Patuxent Wildl ife Research Center United States Geological Survey. n d. Web. 5 August 2011. About dLOC. dLOC .Digital Library of the Caribbean. 2011. Web. 5 August 2011. About Us. Historypin We Are What We Do. 2011. Web. 7 May 2011. Andino, Alliniece T. Comeback role in works for an old movie legend. Jacksonville.com Florida Times Union. 20 May 2002. Web. 12 September 2010. Baudoin, Patsy. "The Principle of Digital Preservation." The Serials Librarian. 55.4 (2008): 556559. Print Bean, Shawn C. The First Hollywood: Florida and the Golden Age of Silent Filmmaking Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2008. Print Blockstein, Mike. Hypercities, Historic Filipinotown, and Hi Fi Mobile Tours. HASTAC blog. Humanities, Arts, Science, and Technology Advanced Callaboratory. 17 September 2009. Web. 5 May 2010. Brooker, Will. "Everywhere and Nowhere." International Journal of Cultural Studies 10.4 (2007): 423444. Print. Built in America : HABS/HAER Introduction. American Memory .The Library of Congress.n.d. Web. 11 Jul y 2011. Cox, Richard J. Digital Curation and the Citizen Archivist. Digital Curation: Practice, Promise &Prospects : Proceedings of Digccurr 2009, April 13, 2009, Chapel Hill, N C, USA. Ed. Helen R. Tibbo. Chapel Hill, NC : School of Information and Librar y Science, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2009. Print. Crooks, James B Jacksonville after the Fire, 19011919: A New South City. 1st ed. Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 1991. Print. Field, Jeffrey. "Chapter 6.Building a National Preservation Program." Journal of Library Administration 38 (2003): 5966. Print. Fox Talbot Museum. Lacock Abbey, Fox Talbot Museum and Village. The National Trust 2011. Web. 6 June 2011. Frequently Asked Questions. Historypin .Historypin. 2011. Web. 7 May 2011. Guidelines for handling manuscript material. Harvard College Library Harvard University 2011. Web. 13 August. 2011.
133 Jacobson, Michael. "A Design Framework for Educational Hypermedia Systems: Theory, Research, and Learning Emerging Scientific C onceptual Perspectives." Educational Technology Research and Development 56.1 (2008): 5 28. Print. Lambin, Jeanne. Preserving Resources from the Recent Past Washington, D.C : National Trust for Historic Preservation, 2006. Print. Mann, Bob. The Trolley Park Phenomena. Metrojacksonville.com Metro Jacksonville, 16 May 2011. Web. 20 May 2011. Moos, D.C, and E Marroquin. "Multimedia, Hypermedia, and Hypertext: Motivation Considered and Reconsidered. Computers in Human Behavior 26.3 (2010): 265276. Print Nelson, Richard A. Florida and the American Motion Picture Industry, 18981980. New York: Garland Pub, 1983. Print Polks Jacksonville City Directory Jacksonville, Fla : R.L. Polk & Co, 1900. Print. Presner, Todd. Digital Humanities 2.0 Mellon Foundation Online Humanities Conference: Shape of Things to Come March 26 28, 2010at the University of Virginia.Ed. Jerome McGann.Houston: Rice University Press, 2010. Print. ___________. HyperCities: A Case Study for the Future of Scholarly Publ ishing. Emerging Disciplines symposium, September 18, 2009 at Rice University.Ed. Melissa Bailar.Houston: Rice University Press, 2010. Print. Reiff,Janice Two Ideas, Two Cities Two Projects: A Digital Urban World. Perspectives onHistory. American Historical Association May 2009. Web. 15 June 2009. Smith, Abby."Valuing Preservation." Library Trends 56.1 (2007): 4 25. Print. The Story So Far. Galax y Z oo. Zooniv erse. 2010. Web. 5 August 2011. Tilden, Freeman. Interpreting Our Heritage. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977. Print. Virtual Williamsburg. Digital History Center .Colonial Williamsburg. 2010. Web. 9 May 2011. Wood, Wayne W, Judy Davis, and David Vedas. Jacksonvilles Architectural Heritage: Landmarks for the Future. Jacksonville: University of North Florida Press, 1989. Print.
134 _______________, Carole L. Fader, and Emily R. Lisska. Jacksonville Family Album: 150 Years of the Art of Photography Jacksonville, Fla: Jacksonville Historical Society, 2005. Print.
135 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Matthew Mariner was born and raised in St. Petersburg, Florida by his father, a graphic artist and elementary school art teacher; and his mother, an elementary school special education teacher. Matthew attended St. Petersburg College for two years beginning in 2002 and then transferred to the University of Florida, where he earned first a Bachelor of English degree in 2006, and then a Master of Historic Preservation degree in 2011. During his post baccalaureate academic career, Matthew worked for the University of Florida Digital Library Center, first as coordinator of the Institutional Repository, then as coordinator of digital validation, archiving, and preservation. It is from his experiences in the field of digital librarianship that he became interested in the possible applications of digitization to historic preservation, a combination he feels is crucial and expanding the reach and effect of both fields. Matthew expects toparlay his knowledge of digitization, preservation, and film history into a career working with film and sound archives, preferably in a city with excellent public transportation that is frequented by bands he actually likes. Further more, Matthew hopes to one day own a small, single screen movie theater over which he and his wife, Dina, can live, and in which he can show all manner of strange and curious films.