Some years ago, former Cranbrook Archivist, Robbie Terman, posted a short blog post on one of the Titanic’s sister ships, RMS Olympic. In recent years, Cranbrook Archives has responded to numerous requests for images of the Olympic which are preserved in the first volume of Harry Scripps Booth’s Pleasures of Life albums.
View of RMS Olympic before its first eastward crossing, June 28, 1911. [POL1.14.5]. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
On June 28, 1911, the Booth family took the first eastward crossing of RMS Olympic from New York to Southampton, England. The family at that time was George and Ellen Booth; James Scripps and Jean McLaughlin Booth who had married the previous year; Grace, Warren, Henry, and Florence. They were joined by their Grand Rapids cousin, Esther Booth.
As I come from a maritime nation, these requests are particularly intriguing to me. I have wondered what other archives we have at Cranbrook to tell the story of transatlantic crossing and explain some of the images. George Gough Booth kept a record of the expenses in planning for the trip. These records tell us that he booked the steamship tickets with the Christian Leidich Travel Bureau in Detroit and he purchased Motor Union badges for himself and James.
James Scripps Booth and George Gough Booth on the RMS Olympic, July 1911.[POL1.10.2] Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
As Henry recalls in his memoir after listing the family members who sailed,
“That wasn’t enough. Parks, the chauffeur, went; also The Pierce-Arrow, a 7-passenger touring car, and a Lozier Briarcliff, which accommodated four plus one in an airy seat on the left running board, designed for the chauffeur when the “master” took the wheel. That seat was a thrill for the young at heart.”
Then I came upon something quite wonderful—Henry’s journal of the sea crossing! He began the trip when he was just 14 years old, celebrating his 15th birthday in August during the vacation. As I read the entries, the images in the Pleasures of Life came alive. Here follows some moments from the journey in Henry’s words.
“Stayed at the Plaza. Esther’s trunk was lost. We found it later. On June 28, we went abord [sic] the great ship, “Olympic.” Henry Scripps Booth, June 27, 1911
Leaving New York, June 28, 1911. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
“On June 28, we went abord [sic] the great ship, “Olympic”. The Olympic is a fine ship. Florence was sick first night and day. It was somewhat rough on June 29th. I met a new friend but did not remember his name. In the morning, I could hardly stand, because of the new sensation. I was somewhat sick, but ate lots and I felt fine.” Henry Scripps Booth, June 28, 1911
“On June 30th the Campania was in view. I got acquainted with two girls, Constance Peabody and Katherine somebody.” Henry Scripps Booth, June 30th, 1911
A race aboard the RMS Olympic on its first eastward crossing from New York to Southampton, July 1911. [POL1.11.4]. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
“July 1st, 1911, was a bright sunny day, and the ocean was as smooth as glass. In the evening, there was a dance on the right hand deck. In the morning and in the afternoon too, the second-class people had races, and did all sorts of stunts. We saw another ship to the left. I played shuffleboard for the first time that day. On July 2nd, which was Sunday, we went to church in the dining room. We also saw another ship [July 3] which was eastwerd [sic] bound being a freight ship.” Henry Scripps Booth, July 1, 1911
A race aboard the RMS Olympic on its first eastward crossing from New York to Southampton, July 1911. [POL1.12.5]. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
“Tomorrow That day, I made my entrys [sic] into the Potato and Boot Races which were to be the next day with other stunts. We saw some fish, at least a yard and a half in length.
On July 3, 1911, at 10 o’clock the games began. The first race, which I was to be in, was the Potato Race. I came in third. I was also to be in the Boot Race but by a mistake, I came in last.
After other races came the Standing Broad Jump in which James sliped [sic].” Henry Scripps Booth, July 3, 1911
Warren Scripps Booth during a Spar Pillow Fight aboard the Steamship RMS Olympic, July 1911. [POL1.12.4]. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
“James and Warren were both in the Spar Pillow Fight. In Warren’s case both fell off the bar at first but Warren was nocked [sic] off a second time. Warren did not win. James stayed on a number of times but was forced to give up. After dinner in the Reception Room the prizes were awarded. Also a dance on deck was given.” Henry Scripps Booth, July 3, 1911
Disembarking the RMS Olympic, July 5, 1911. [POL1.14.1]. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
“Breakfast was served in the usual manner. After breakfast in the hall on the Sun Deck the band played the national cirs. Every body stood up. In the afternoon, at 4 o’clock we entered Plymouth Harbor. The mailtender got the mail and other boats got passengers off to land. We then started across the channel.” Henry Scripps Booth, July 4, 1911
“After getting off the steamer and having the officers make sure that we had no cigars or liquors with us, we took a cab to the hotel.” Henry Scripps Booth, July 5, 1911
Unloading the cars in France, August 1911. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
As always, it is a great delight to share with scholars, colleagues, and those who are simply curious, these stories from the Archives. What is preserved in Cranbrook Archives help us to understand and enjoy not just Cranbrook, but any number of historic events from new perspectives.
There are more stories to tell about the family’s sojourn through England and France in 1911, which are both heartwarming and educational. But those tales must wait for another blog post–or for you to schedule a visit and come into the Archives Reading Room!
— Laura MacNewman, Associate Archivist, Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
In 1759, British forces led by General James Wolfe defeated the French in a pivotal battle outside besieged Quebec. General Wolfe’s death from injuries sustained on the battlefield, just moments after victory was declared, made him a hero to the British public. The victory at Quebec turned the tide in the Seven Years War for the British, securing Britain’s rule of their new North American territories and paving the way for the eventual creation of Canada and the USA. But what does the Battle of Quebec have to do with Cranbrook?
In October 1928, George Booth bought three paintings from a Boston gallery, including one depicting the battle, The Death of General Wolfe, attributed to Benjamin West. He gave all three paintings to Cranbrook School for Boys, where they still hang today, on the walls of Page Hall Commons. Cranbrook’s The Death of General Wolfe is a studio copy of a famous work depicting the end of the Battle of Quebec. The painting represents a turning point both in American history, and in the history of art.
The artist, Benjamin West, was born in Springfield, Pennsylvania, in 1732. Like many artists living in the North American colonies, he was acutely conscious of the shortage of opportunities for training and patronage on this side of the Atlantic. At 31, he left America for Europe, where he embarked on a study tour of Italy, before settling in England. There, he quickly established himself as an artist of skill and imagination. West attracted clients to his studio by deliberately playing up his background as an émigré from the still largely unknown North American continent, even claiming to have had his first lessons in painting from Native American artists. His talent and social charms quickly won him support from colleagues and patrons alike, but it was the triumph of The Death of General Wolfe that made him a national celebrity.
Self Portrait, Unknown 18th century artist, after Benjamin West, circa 1776. National Gallery of Art, Andrew W. Mellon Collection, Washington, D.C.
In 1771, twelve years after the Battle of Quebec, West exhibited a monumental canvas depicting Wolfe’s death on the battlefield at the Royal Academy of Art’s summer exhibition in London. At its debut, West’s painting was lambasted by critics for his then unconventional choice to portray all the subjects of his work in accurate, contemporary dress, rather than classical draperies. However, critical disputes were drowned by popular acclaim.
The painting’s dramatization of an already thrilling moment in recent British history captured the public’s sentiments, while fellow artists praised West’s dynamic composition, effective use of classic postures and gestures, and brilliant color. Joshua Reynolds, the first President of the Royal Academy, who had advised West against his choice to include contemporary dress, confessed that he had been wrong. West’s balance of realistic costumes and props with compositional techniques borrowed from the Italian Renaissance set a new standard for verisimilitude and expressiveness in British history painting.
The Death of General Wolfe, Benjamin West, 1770. National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa. Gift of the 2nd Duke of Westminster to the Canadian War Memorials, 1918; Transfer from the Canadian War Memorials, 1921.
At the center of the eight foot wide canvas, General Wolfe lies dying in the arms of his officers. From the far left, a messenger approaches bearing news of the French surrender, while in the background, windblown clouds and smoke open up to reveal a patch of blue sky, signaling the imminent arrival of good news. Though all accounts of the general’s death place just three men with him, West has ringed Wolfe with fellow soldiers, whose gestures direct our attention to the dying man, and express mingled grief and awe. Wolfe’s own pose echoes that of the dead Christ in the Virgin Mary’s lap in Michaelangelo’s Pieta (1499). His upturned face is illuminated by the sun breaking through the clouds. It is a profoundly unsubtle portrait of a patriotic martyr.
At the left of the group, two figures speak to the specifically North American character of the battlefield. The figure in the green coat, who points over his shoulder at the approaching messenger, is Sir William Johnson, an English immigrant to the North American colonies who established close personal relationships with the Mohawk, and was appointed by their leadership to represent their interests to the British government. Johnson’s negotiations were critical to the British alliance with four Iroquois peoples, who fought alongside the British against the French in the Seven Years War. The unknown Native American man who sits beside Johnson represents the Iroquois contribution to the British war effort. His pensive posture as he watches the dying general is based on two major art historical precedents; the “Belvedere Torso”, a fragment of Roman sculpture at the Vatican Museums in Rome, and Melancholia, an allegorical depiction of melancholy, by Albrecht Dürer. The pose reflects two of the many views of Native American people then current in British society – they were both recognized as valiant military allies, and romanticized as tragic representatives of a culture fated to disappear in the face of inevitable British conquest and the expansion of their colonized territories.
Melencolia I, Albrecht Dürer, 1514. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1943.
The triumph of The Death of General Wolfe, like the real victory it depicts, is a watershed moment in history – that is, in the history of British historical subject art. Over the next hundred years, history painting would evolve from a genre reserved for the walls of palaces, and confined by the conventions royal aggrandizement and allegory, to a popular genre of narrative art, characterized by dual commitments to historical accuracy and psychological drama. Though West was not the first to introduce modern dress into historical scenes (nor even the first to portray the death of Wolfe in this manner), the extraordinary merits of his work turned the tide in favor of realism and emotionally driven narrative for the genre as a whole.
And When Did You Last See Your Father?, William Frederick Yeames, 1878. Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool. A fictionalized depiction of the interrogation of the young son of a Royalist sympathizer by a Parliamentarian, Yeames’s work epitomizes the 19th century turn towards envisioning history through the lens of individual experiences.
West went on to be appointed court historical painter under George III, and became the second president of the Royal Academy of Art, succeeding Joshua Reynolds in 1792. Though he never resettled in America, West lent his support to many young American artists visiting England, fostering the growth of American art up to the Revolution and beyond.
The Death of General Wolfe Comes to Cranbrook
The version of The Death of General Wolfe at Cranbrook is one of at least seven copies of the painting produced in West’s lifetime. Several were painted by West himself, others by studio assistants. We do not know the exact provenance of this painting. The technique reveals it to be the work of a less experienced artist, perhaps a junior studio assistant. The painting lacks the exacting finish that characterized West’s work and was demanded of all artists at this period. In the original work, not a single brushstroke is visible, while in the Cranbrook copy, the artist has not learned to conceal the work of their brush.
The panel is about half as large as the original, slightly taller and narrower in its dimensions. To adapt the painting to a differently proportioned canvas, the artist was forced to compress the space between some of its figures. Many features of the battle in the background, such as press of boats along the river’s edge on the right of the canvas, were omitted altogether. A key figure, the messenger bearing news of victory, is crammed into the left-hand margin, and partially cut off by the frame. The missing details raise the possibility that this work was painted from a print, rather than from close study of the original or a copy by West himself.
Print of The Death of General Wolfe, William Boydell and Rowlands Woollett, after Benjamin West, 1 January 1776. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.
George Booth paid the Vose Gallery $3,000 for this painting – twice as much as he paid for either of the other two paintings, and a remarkable price for a work that is almost certainly not from the artist’s own hand. (The other works were The Clipper Midnight, by Samuel Walters, and a portrait of Washington Irving by John Vanderlyn.) Why was it so important to the Booths that Cranbrook have some version of West’s masterpiece?
Six months before George Booth bought the painting, another version of The Death of General Wolfe was presented to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, by William L. Clements. Clements, a noted collector of American artifacts and documents, bought the painting to ornament the library of Americana that he had just given to the university, the William L. Clements library. The painting at Ann Arbor is a full-scale replica of the original work, painted by Benjamin West in 1775 for the Prince Regent of Waldeck, a region in Germany. The library, with its new painting in place, opened to the public in June of 1928, when visitors packed the rooms to see the collection. The Booths may well have been in attendance, and would certainly have been aware of the well-publicized gift. Perhaps it was Clements’s generosity that inspired George Booth to seek out a Death of General Wolfe for the Cranbrook campus as well.
The Death of General Wolfe, Benjamin West, 1776. William L. Clements Library. Courtesy of the University of Michigan.
By giving the painting to the school, George Booth probably hoped that it would add something to the students’ education there. In the most straightforward sense, the painting depicts a critical moment in the history of the United States, Canada, Great Britain, and the First Nations. It also represents a turning point in the history of art, and in the life of one artist in particular. Benjamin West rose from American obscurity to the highest eminence in British art, thanks to his talent, effort, and amiable personality, but it was this painting that secured him national recognition. Throughout his career, he sought to help younger artists to success, teaching many American artists in his own studio. General Wolfe was a hero of his own nation and time, but to an art lover and sometime pacifist like George Booth, Benjamin West may well have seemed like the true exemplar of a life well spent, and an ideal role model for the students of Cranbrook School.
— Mariam Hale, 2023-2025 Collections Fellow, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
Nothing at Cranbrook is just one thing. Every tree, garden, rock, and railing has a story–and often times, a name.
In 2022, with the help of an anonymous donor and our friends at RE-TREE, a Camperdown elm (Ulmus glabra ‘Camperdownii’) was transplanted from a local garden to the Meadow in Cranbrook House Gardens, where it joined another established Camperdown elm. Since RE-TREE names all of the trees they relocate, I decided our Camperdown elms needed names, too. I started to refer to the larger tree as Thistle and the smaller tree as Smike to honor the two youngest Booth children, who grew up primarily on the Cranbrook Estate.
Thistle and Smike, the Camperdown elms below the West Terrace, in the Meadow, in Cranbrook House Gardens. Photographed by Leslie Mio, July 2024.
In 1908, George and Ellen Booth and their children, James, Grace, Warren, Harry, and Florence, moved from their home on Trumbull Avenue in Detroit to their new home Cranbrook, in the “wilds” of Bloomfield Township. At the time of the move, James was twenty, only two years away from marriage; Grace was eighteen; and Warren, fourteen, was already in boarding school. Youngest siblings Harry (eleven) and Florence (six) pretty much had the run of the grounds, exploring every nook and cranny (pun intended).
As the family explored and improved their country estate, they also took to naming significant features: every pond, hill, tree, and drive would be christened with its own name. Some names stuck (Angley Woods), others changed (Glassenbury Lake became Kingswood Lake), and others have been forgotten.
From the beginning of Cranbrook’s history in 1904, place names at Cranbrook have evolved and changed. Once the Booths turned the original mill pond into a lake,…
Harry and Florence were no exception; they had pet names for each other. Harry, known as Thistle, received his nickname during an illness. He did not shave for days, and someone said kissing his cheek was like kissing a thistle. We don’t have a record of the origin of Florence’s nickname, but friends and family called her Smike her whole life.
Harry (Thistle) and Florence (Smike) Booth with Spot in 1912. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
The Camperdown elms’ location below the West Terrace are also significant to Smike’s story. The Booths (especially Florence) loved animals. Family dogs Bud, Sandy, Spot, Prince, Larkspur, and Craig were well cared for and loved. The family beagle Mike was so beloved as to be made to wear a bonnet as he travelled around in a baby carriage!
The biggest canine event at Cranbrook came in 1914. As Harry Booth later wrote, “On June 20, 1914, the Booth family celebrated the 70th anniversary of the family’s landing on North America from England. After a picnic, everyone attended a dog show Florence Booth organized on the new West Terrace.”
The Bloomfield Hills Dog Show, June 20, 1914, on the West Terrace at Cranbrook House. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
Invitation to the Bloomfield Hills Dog Show, June 20, 1914, on the West Terrace at Cranbrook House. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
So, when I look at the two Camperdown elms below the West Terrace–one slightly bigger than the other–I think of all the stories the grounds of Cranbrook hold, and of the happy days Thistle and Smike spent growing, adventuring, and imagining around campus.
Perhaps you’ll agree with my names for the trees, and next time you are strolling in the Meadow at Cranbrook House Gardens, just below the West Terrace, say hello to Thistle and Smike.
– Leslie Mio, Associate Registrar, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
Ed. note: Special thanks to Paul Nelson, one of the arborists for Cranbrook House and Gardens Auxiliary. He has been a champion for Thistle and Smike, making sure they are trimmed, watered, fertilized, and kept looking their best.
In recent years, new residential development along the small strip of Cranbrook Road between Lone Pine Road and Woodward Avenue has given Cranbrook a few new neighbors. One of Cranbrook’s first neighbors on the street, however, dates back one hundred years!
As George and Ellen Booth began developing their country estate in the mid-1920s into what we know today as Cranbrook Educational Community, a new house was completed just north of what would soon become Kingswood School for Girls.
Picture of Stonelea from an ad in Afterglow: A Country Life Magazine, August-September 1925.
Ralph Stone, president of the Detroit Trust Company, with which George Booth did business, purchased this land around 1923. He quickly commissioned Albert Kahn to design a country residence for the site, which Stone named “Stonelea.” This was just a few years after Kahn had completed additions to Cranbrook House.
Residence for Mr. Ralph Stone. Albert Kahn Architect. November 17, 1923. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The close neighbors shared some correspondence regarding their properties that provides a glimpse of both men’s personalities, and highlights their shared affability and elegance of prose. Their letters, part of the George Gough Booth Papers, begin a year before Ralph Stone and his wife Mary would finalize construction of their home in 1925. It seems they could not wait to spend a summer of leisure in Bloomfield Hills, away from the hustle and bustle of Detroit. The Stones sought to rent the Booth’s Brookside Cottage–an impossibility due to occupancy by Booth family members.
But perhaps the most interesting exchange takes place in 1926 when Ralph writes regarding the shocking lack of water needed to preserve his lawn and garden in a green state in the middle of July (not a problem in 2024!). He proposes to pump water from Cranbrook, but George’s reply a week later masterfully circumnavigates the issue:
Opening lines of the George Booth letter, August 2, 1926. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
In Ralph’s reply he acquiesces with good humor:
Second paragraph of the Ralph Stone letter, August 3, 1926. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The sentiments expressed in these letters appear genuine as their families remained on neighborly terms. George and Ellen were occasional guests at Stonelea for dinner parties until the Stones sold their property in 1931.
In fact, Ralph Stone proved to be much more than just a friendly neighbor of George Booth, continuing his connection to Cranbrook long after he had moved from the area. He was an early and steadfast supporter of Cranbrook, serving on various boards for over twenty-five years as a Cranbrook School Trustee (1928-1951), Kingswood School Trustee (1930-1951), Brookside School Trustee (1945-1951), Academy of Art Trustee (1941-1946), and Foundation Trustee (1940-1952).
George Gough Booth and Ralph Stone attend the 80th birthday party of Ellen Scripps Booth at Cranbrook House, 1943. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Today, Stonelea is no longer just a neighbor: the property was acquired by Cranbrook Educational Community in 2003. In the coming years, Stonelea will become the future home of Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research!
Films titles like Farewell My Summer Love, The Nightmare, and Dormitory of the Dead were recently rediscovered while working on the Horizons-Upward Bound (HUB) digitization project. The 8mm film reels were unmarked, but cross-referencing with film festival entry packets and faculty reports in the HUB Records, along with viewing the first few frames of each reel, revealed their origin.
Produced in 1984 by HUB summer students in John Prusak’s class, these films had been submitted to The Michigan Student Film and Video Festival, held at Friends Auditorium, Detroit, MI in 1985.
Opening scene from The Nightmare, 1984. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Top section of film evaluation sheet for the Michigan Student Film and Video Festival, 1985. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Digitizing film for today
When applying for the grant that is allowing digitization of the HUB Records only one student film, The Great Dictator, from William H. Moran’s 1969 summer class, had been labeled and identified. So it was indeed a nice surprise to find that there were more! Along with the 1969 film and a fifth film, Together, produced in John Geoghegan’s Advanced Film Class 1972 summer class, the 1984 films were sent to a lab for digitization.
Title Title screen and scenes from Dormitory of the Dead, 1984. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Scene from Farewell My Summer Love, 1984. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Viewing the digitized films helped further identify the students involved and corroborate the information listed on the entry forms. With this information in hand, we have eagerly begun sharing this newly accessible resource with the HUB community.
Head archivist, Deborah Rice, screens two films during Cranbrook Schools Reunion Weekend June 2024. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Future Discoveries
The summer film elective class was offered sporadically throughout HUB’s history beginning in 1969. It is yet unknown how many films have been produced over the years. Other titles listed in the 1985 festival entries alone include six films: Money, Spectrum, Street People, That’s Life Kid (It’s Gonna Be Lonely II), The Mix, and Class of 86 – Memories. Together, the films are invaluable documentation of the student perspective.
Please reach out to archives@cranbrook.edu with any information about the films mentioned above or other HUB student films. We’d love to know more!
—Courtney Richardson, Project Archivist and Deborah Rice, Head Archivist, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
HUB digitization is funded by a NHPRC Archival Projects Grant for projects that ensure online public discovery and use of historical records collections. The NHPRC was established by Congress in 1934 as a statutory body affiliated with the National Archives and Records Administration and chaired by the Archivist of the United States.
Each May, the Center is honored to host an outstanding senior from Cranbrook Kingswood Upper School for a three-week immersive internship.
The Center’s 2024 “Senior May” Sav Hayward writes about their time working with the Center team.
I hit the ground at my Senior May running. The very first day, I had to help prepare for the Center’s annual House Party gala. This year it was held at Thornlea House which needed a lot of TLC before the event on Saturday. During my first week, I worked all over the house to help prepare it. Things like vacuuming (Ed. note: No one, in the history of the universe, was as excited as Sav about vacuuming), wiping windows, sorting cupboards, cutting ribbons, crafting decorations, and going to Cranbrook Archives to help move items from the collection for displays. Once everything was completed the final product was extremely satisfying, and I heard many wonderful things about the night. I had to decline my invitation to the House Party in favor of my Senior Prom.
Cutting ribbon to create bunting for the House Party. Photograph by Leslie Mio, May 2024.
The following two weeks, I never had the same task twice in a row. Some of my favorite days consisted of working in the Archives with Deborah Rice and Laura MacNewman, helping around in the Annex offices with the Center’s Registrar, Leslie Mio, and going on random little trips.
In the Archives, I helped organize and re-box some items we got out for the House Party. There was a very relaxed environment there, and it was cool seeing all the documentation Cranbrook has about our history.
The following day I helped Kevin and Leslie take the painting A Hunter of Taos by Oscar Edmund Berninghaus from the Cranbrook Kingswood Middle School for Boys and drive it to a conservation studio in Detroit. When we were finishing our visit, the conservator, Ken Katz, told us to go upstairs and check out the exhibit being set up at the Metropolitan Museum of Design Detroit (MM-O-DD). There we met some cool people, including the Founder/Executive BOD President Leslie Ann Pilling and Chuck Duquet of Collected Detroit, who took us downstairs and showed us artwork stored there.
Standing around looking at the framing studio. Photograph by Kevin Adkisson, May 2024.
While looking around I saw pieces by many Cranbrook Artists, including some that had been loaned to Cranbrook Art Museum’s recent exhibition LeRoy Foster: Solo Show. I also saw an amazing painting of Eero Saarinen as a boy, painted in Finland by his father (and architect of Cranbrook) Eliel Saarinen.
Kevin admires Eliel Saarinen’s painting of his son Eero at Collected Detroit. Photograph by Leslie Mio, May 2024.
Ever since I started going to Cranbrook, I have dreamed of going up into the old astronomy tower at Hoey Hall. I was able to achieve this dream thanks to Kevin. He was working with photographer James Haefner to document the tower after some recent cleaning. Luckily, I was invited to join Kevin and see how the entire photshoot process worked. I helped do some tasks, like dusting, carrying equipment cases, and bringing water up to the ridiculously hot rooms.
Standing next to the upper door in the Cranbrook Campus tower. Photograph by Kevin Adkisson, May 2024.
On the last day of Senior May, I joined Leslie and Kevin on a trip to Hagopian World of Rugs in Birmingham. We met with architect Erinn Rooks of Cranbrook Capital Projects to pick out colors for a reproduction rug. Suzanne Hagopian, Executive Vice President, brought out a test sample made a while back to see if the colors matched the original and if it was what we were looking for.
When we looked at the sample, we realized that the colors were lacking, so we all sat around and debated over small tufts of colorful yarn samples. What was nice was that these color samples were neatly lined up in multiple boxes. After a while, we finally decided on more vibrant colors compared to the sample, but this was to help make the carpet pop. Ed. note: Sav’s knowledge of color theory and use of technology to compare color tones greatly assisted in this project.
Erinn, Leslie, and I examine carpet and color samples. Photograph by Kevin Adkisson, May 2024.
Kevin and I take a “magic carpet ride” while looking at yarn samples. Photograph by Leslie Mio, May 2024.
I will always remember this Senior May and how fun it was. The people I met during this time are amazing and I will miss seeing them every day. While some of my classmates went off campus for their Senior May, doing mine on Cranbrook’s entire campus felt like I was a part of one large family. I have never felt more connected to Cranbrook, its history, and its legacy.
– Sav Hayward, Cranbrook Kingswood Upper School Class of 2024 and Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research 2024 Senior May
Editor’s Note: Sav Hayward is a member of the CKU Class of 2024 and a proud resident of Lansing, Michigan. In Fall 2024, Sav will continue their education at the College for Creative Studies in Detroit, where they will study Interior Design. CCS is the modern iteration of the Detroit Society of Arts and Crafts, co-founded by George G. Booth in 1906. Sav is hoping to land a paper route for the Detroit News to complete the Booth trifecta.
Another day, another lunch break. The Center feeds its Senior Mays well – Sav was treated to lunches at some of the staff’s favorite local eats, including Panera, 29º 41º Mediterranean Street Food, Green Dot Stables, and Paris Baguette Café (pictured here on their last day with us). Photograph by Kevin Adkisson, May 2024.
While researching the step-backed Peacock Andirons at Saarinen House last spring, I enthusiastically mustered a muster of peacocks from across Cranbrook’s campus with the generous help of my colleagues.
“Muster” is the official label for a group of peacocks.
Unlike a gaggle of geese, a muster of peacocks lacks both onomatopoeia and alliteration and implies a level of formality and regimental order in direct conflict with the species’ behavior! That is…judging by the peacocks I’ve witnessed at historic homes and castles throughout Europe, including a visit to Scone Castle in Scotland where an earlier visitor captured these free-spirited troops. Whether iridescent blue or albino, their graceful necks and distinctive crests rise to magnificence when tail feathers are splayed to attract a peahen mate or intimidate predators.
Throughout the ages, blue aka Indian peafowl have symbolized beauty and prosperity and served as sources of artistic inspiration. A favored theme at Cranbrook, the peacock’s dramatic curvilinear lines are represented at each institution across the campus.
One can discover…
WORKS IN METAL:
• The famed Peacock Gates designed by Finnish-American architect Eliel Saarinen and fabricated in wrought and cast iron by Oscar Bruno Bach, 1927, marking the former Lone Pine Road entrance to Cranbrook School for Boys:
Peacock Gates at Cranbrook School circa 1980. Jeffrey Welch, photographer. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.
Details of the peacocks in cast iron:
Detail of Cranbrook School Peacock Gate, circa 1935. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.
Detail of Cranbrook School Peacock Gate, circa 1935. Courtesy Cranbrook Archives.
Detail of Cranbrook School Peacock Gate, 2001. Balthazar Korab, photographer. Copyright Balthazar Korab | Cranbrook Archives.
• Eliel Saarinen’s cast bronze Peacock Andirons, 1928-29, on view at Saarinen House. Collection of Cranbrook Art Museum. Produced by Sterling Bronze Company, New York, between 1928 and 1929, these cast bronze andirons were paid for by the Cranbrook Foundation and entered in the 1928-1930 Arts & Crafts Building ledger on pages 40-41—Date: 1-7-30; No.: 515; Name: Sterling Bronze Co; Remarks: 1 pair/ Andirons for Saarinen Res[idence]; Amount: $152.50 (the equivalent of $2,704 in 2024):
Robert Hensleigh, photographer. Courtesy Cranbrook Art Museum.
Classical music, wandering musicians, ballet, cabaret, white paper lanterns, illuminated boats on the lake, Hawaiian torches, Italian tree lights, champagne, dinner, and dancing on a night with a fair-sized moon—these were some of the possibilities that Henry Scripps Booth recorded in December 1964 notes for a music gala called Night of Delight, a fundraiser for the Cranbrook Music Guild of which he was a founding member.
Patrons in line to attend Cranbrook Music Guild concert and ballet performance, July 10, 1960. Harvey Croze, photographer. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The Guild is one of the most eminent accomplishments in Cranbrook’s legacy of music and it endures to this day (the Archives holds records for the organization through 2007). Born of the inspiration of Christ Church Cranbrook Music Director, Maurice Garabrandt, and Betty (Mrs. Benjamin) Brewster, the Guild was established in 1951 to utilize Cranbrook’s setting as a wonderful place to appreciate music.
During the first decade alone, the Guild sponsored performances by distinguished artists, including violinists Zino Francescatti and Mischa Mischakoff, pianists such as Mischa Kottler, Phillipe Entremont, Jean Casadesus, and Leon Fleischer, cellist George Miquelle, the Severo ballet, jazz musicians such as Dave Brubeck and Don Shirley, classical guitarist Richard Dyer-Bennet, and soprano Eileen Farrell.
Program for Jean Casadesus performance, November 16, 1960. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The objectives of the Guild were not only to provide high quality programming, support the creation of new music, and the development of high caliber performers, but also to share knowledge about the appreciation of music through lectures, demonstrations, recitals, and exhibitions. The programs for the concerts thus shared brief contextual comments on the history of the piece and the composer.
In the program for the Second Cranbrook Arts Festival Concert, which was performed at the Greek Theatre on June 1, 1952, I noticed a comment that is playfully instructive but also particularly salient to later developments in the Guild programming. The second concert program included Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata 104, “Thou Bountiful Shepherd, Hear Us,” and it was noted that it had inspired Albert Schweitzer to comment:
“The ravishing euphony and the perfect grace of this work ensure its effect upon any audience; it is one of the most suitable for overcoming the common fear of Bach.”
Program for Second Cranbrook Arts Festival Concert, June 1, 1952. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The Cantata must have worked its magic, because in 1966, the idea of a Bach at Cranbrook festival was introduced. It would be a satellite festival chaired by James L. Schneider and hosted by Christ Church Cranbrook with the aim to perform Bach’s music as he intended—with a small chorus and orchestra in a church setting. At a special meeting on February 23, 1966, the Cranbrook Music Guild agreed to sponsor the Bach at Cranbrook festival.
At a regular meeting a few days later, Henry expressed concern regarding the conflict of dates. The Bach festival was set for May 14 and his Night of Delight was being planned for the 21st. The Board responded that it was impossible to sponsor two big events that would appeal to same group of people, and that there was no choice but to sponsor the Bach festival, to which they had already committed, and postpone the gala to another year.
Program cover from the first Bach at Cranbrook festival, May 14, 1966. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
Thus, the first Bach at Cranbrook festival took place on May 14, 1966 at Christ Church with 25 members of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra and the 40-voice Kenneth Jewell Chorale. It was a stellar success with an audience of over 1,200 people. The following year, the festival grew into a two-day, three-day concert event. After being renamed the Cranbrook Festival with a broader scope of classical and baroque composers, the festival was dissolved in 1979.
A scene from the Bach at Cranbrook festival, May 14, 1966. Harvey Croze, photographer. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
The gala, Night of Delight, would never take place beyond Henry’s musings. For those with a romantic imagination, his words invite one to feel the warm summer evening, the fragrance of fresh flowers, strains of music across the courtyard filled with joyful chatter, elegance, and conviviality beneath the light of the moon. If your senses require something more tangible, fear not, for the Center for Collections and Research is celebrating the legacy of music at Cranbrook at our House Party on May 18th. Join us for live music, dinner, dancing, paper lanterns, and even a fair-sized moon! It will truly be a Night of Delight!
For this May’s upcoming A House Party at Cranbrook: Celebrating the Legacy of Music, we are celebrating the music and spirit of the 1950s. Naturally, that means digging into our closets for our best mid-century modern outfits, and more importantly, our dancing shoes. Seventy-five years ago, guests invited to a Cranbrook party could head down to Hudson’s department store on Woodward Avenue for a full evening’s attire. That is, unless they, like Loja Saarinen, preferred to design and sew their own clothes! This year, we may be deprived of Hudson’s and its record-breaking 705 changing rooms, but we do not lack sources of inspiration for a fifties night at Cranbrook.
Cranbrook Academy of Art: Packard Motor Competition, 1950. Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
Eliel and Loja Saarinen at the front entrance of Saarinen House, Cranbrook Academy of Art, circa 1950. Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
The 1950s was an exciting time for snappy dressers, even those not as artistically gifted as Loja Saarinen. While Cranbrook-trained designers like Ruth Adler Schnee and Florence Knoll were transforming the look of the modern American interior, American clothing was undergoing a revolution of its own. The 1950s can be seen as the dawn of the modern fashion era, defined by an extraordinarily diverse range of stylish modes of dress, and a new emphasis on comfort and adaptability. The introduction of novel synthetic fabrics like orlon and spandex, and a new prominence for sports and lounge wear anticipated the rise of current athleisure apparel. The cocktail dress reached its zenith in this decade, as did the requisite accessories: shoes, handbag, and a trunkful of costume jewelry.
Handbag, used by Elizabeth Parke Firestone. From the Collections of The Henry Ford. Gift of Elizabeth Willis Leatherman.
Christian Dior Dress, Worn by Elizabeth Parke Firestone, circa 1956. From the Collections of The Henry Ford. Gift of Elizabeth Willis Leatherman.
Many designers, including Christian Dior himself, continued to embrace the sloping shoulders and hourglass shapes of the “New Look,” inaugurated in the late forties. However, no single silhouette dominated the womenswear scene. Waistlines and hemlines rose and fell according to the whims of individual designers, dresses and coats billowed outward or narrowed to follow the line of the body, and the range of possibilities for fashionable dressers expanded rapidly in all directions.
Claire McCardell, “Popover” Dress, circa 1956. RISD Museum.
Cristóbal Balenciaga, Chemise dress, circa 1957. RISD Museum.
The one common and consistent demand for women’s clothing then was elegance; truly casual clothing was not yet a part of the upper or middle-class woman’s wardrobe. Whether in a cocktail dress, playsuit, full-skirted evening gown, or daring slacks, women were still expected to present a polished exterior. Menswear, on the other hand, trended towards greater informality and comfort across the decade.
Attendees at a Cranbrook Academy of Art weavers’ party, 1959. Cranbrook Archives, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research.
The structure of the modern suit gradually loosened, while ties, worn short and wide at the start of the decade, narrowed and lengthened, and soft knit ties became an accepted part of a business wardrobe. Boxy, straight cut and swing jackets, for men and women alike, allowed for complete freedom of movement, and leant a jaunty sway to an outfit’s profile. A new pop of color enlivened men’s suits, in the form of a bright shirt, tie, belt, or a contrasting waistcoat. For the more daring, a colorful velvet smoking jacket might be just the thing for an evening party.
Youth culture drove much of the sartorial transformation, particularly in casual dress; Elvis Presley, Marlon Brando, and James Dean modelled the classic white t-shirt and jeans for the first time on the big screen in this decade, and James Dean’s short career in Hollywood left a lasting fashion legacy in the form of his distinctive red nylon golf jacket, in Rebel Without a Cause.
Theatrical poster for Rebel Without a Cause, 1955. Warner Brothers Pictures Distributing Corporation. Image via Wikimedia Commons.
In fact, it would be hard to find better – or more entertaining – fashion inspiration than in the films of the 1950s. Throughout the decade, star actresses like Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and Dorothy Dandridge modelled iconic looks, both onscreen and off.
Dorothy Dandridge photographed for LIFE Magazine in 1955. Image via Harper’s Bazaar.
Eight-time Oscar-winning costume designer Edith Head (the inspiration for superhero costumier Edna “E” Mode in The Incredibles (2004)), created some of the 1950’s most iconic looks, for men and women alike. Her designs reflect the breadth of possibilities for glamorous women’s dress in the period, from Grace Kelly’s full tulle skirts, inspired by ballet tutus, to Kim Novak’s sleekly severe suits in Vertigo (1958). True couture also made appearances on screen, as Hepburn was dressed by M. Hubert de Givenchy himself for Sabrina (1954) and Funny Face (1957), the latter a cinematic send-up of the fashion industry itself.
Audrey Hepburn alights from a TWA plane in Los Angeles on September 5, 1953. Los Angeles Herald Examiner Photo Collection, Los Angeles Public Library.
Publicity photo of Audrey Hepburn and William Holden in the motion picture Sabrina, 1954. Paramount Pictures, Inc. Billy Rose Theatre Collection, Los Angeles Public Library.
Menswear in these classic films receives less attention on Pinterest boards today, but it too evinced a witty, modern spirit and a widening range of options. There’s a new, comfort driven sensibility behind Gregory Peck’s lightweight, loosely-cut suits in Roman Holiday, joy and humor in Fred Astaire’s dance number in Funny Face, in which his white duster coat’s scarlet lining transforms it into a matador’s cape, and there is nothing uptight or understated about Cary Grant’s polka-dotted scarf and striped sweater in To Catch a Thief.
The glamorous costumes of the big screen set a high bar for fifties fashion, but even Audrey Hepburn had a more ordinary go-to look: the capris, sweater, and ballet flats ensemble that she was photographed in time and time again. The ease with which the stars of the fifties wore their exquisite clothes reminds us, in our own era, not to take our own wardrobe too seriously. Not even for A House Party at Cranbrook!
Join the Center in your 1950s-inspired finery on May 18 to help us celebrate the legacy of music at Cranbrook with a garden gala at Thornlea House and enjoy musical stylings from the era. Head to our website to learn more and purchase your tickets to A House Party at Cranbrook: Celebrating the Legacy of Music!
– Mariam Hale, 2023-2025 Collections Fellow, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
Following on the heels of Leonard Bernstein, Don Shirley, and Dave Brubeck, yet another famous musician came to Cranbrook: Harry Belafonte. While his trip to campus, unfortunately, did not involve a performance, it is well-recorded in the Archives: in news items, photographs, and a Society page headline in the Wednesday, November 23, 1960, Birmingham Eccentric.
Being a relatively new recording star on the RCA record label, the 1960 visit included Belafonte’s third Detroit performance. After his debut in 1956 in a show called “Sing, Man, Sing!” Belefonte played the newly converted live venue, the Grand Riviera Theater the following year in support of his record album, “An Evening With Belafonte.”
Portrait of Harry Belafonte, singer and actor. Courtesy of E. Azalia Hackley Collection, Detroit Public Library.
At this point, the actor and singer was pretty much a household name, having starred in the 1954 film Carmen Jones, and riding the wave of his 1956 breakthrough hit album, Calypso, the first million-selling LP by a single artist. Who doesn’t know the song “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)?”
When Belafonte returned to the Riviera in 1960, his show was again billed as “An Evening With Belafonte” but now featuring an opening performance by South African singer Miriam Makeba, sponsored by the Junior Women’s Association for the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. And this time, in the audience were Henry Scripps Booth (son of Cranbrook founders George and Ellen Booth), his wife Carolyn, and their son Stephen with his wife Betty.
It’s not surprising that Henry (known to family and friends as Harry) was in attendance. An avid music aficionado, he was a charter member of the Cranbrook Music Guild, founded in 1951, and had been floating the idea of a creative music center on Cranbrook campus for at least that long. In fact, earlier in 1960, he had even proposed in a letter to Eero Saarinen the building of a music shell on the west lawn of Cranbrook House. Alas, the music center (and Saarinen music shell) never came to be.
In any case, Henry must have been visibly enjoying Belafonte’s concert. According to another Eccentric columnist, “Cheers went up at Harry Booth’s impromptu performance. Mr. Belafonte took his mike down to Mr. Booth’s ringside seat and induced him to give forth on a chorus of ‘Matilda‘ (it was all unrehearsed – we checked).”
Harry Belafonte with Academy students in the Painting Department, including Annie Sanders (Fiber ’62) and Dan Radin (Painting ’62). Harvey Croze, photographer. Courtesy of Cranbrook Archives.
A few days later, Belafonte made the trip from Detroit, at Henry’s invitation, to dine at the Booth’s home, Thornlea, with the family. Afterwards, he was given a brief tour of Cranbrook where he stopped at the Academy of Art to meet students and view work in their studios.
Join the Center on May 18 to help us celebrate the legacy of music at Cranbrook—dine at Thornlea and enjoy musical stylings from the era of Harry Belafonte’s visit. Head to our website to learn more and purchase your tickets to A House Party at Cranbrook!
—Deborah Rice, Head Archivist, Cranbrook Center for Collections and Research
Cranbrook Kitchen Sink 
