Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, 2018

In April 2018 I had an opportunity to combine a conference, a research trip, and a personal visit on one long road trip. The Stone-Campbell Journal Conference was at Milligan College in upper East Tennessee, the personal visit was to see my uncle Rhoderick, who was then dying in a hospital in Morgantown, West Virginia. My research for the book chapter on Claude Spencer took me to Disciples of Christ Historical Society in Bethany, not quite on the way to or from Morgantown, but when one drives in West Virginia precious little is ‘on the way’ no matter where you’re headed. Considering the subject and nature of my project, there was only once choice: go to Bethany to learn from Spencer’s papers. And that is what I did for a very pleasant afternoon.  The entire trip was pleasant: 1-20 to Alabama, then up, up, up, to Tennessee and West Virginia, then zig-zag south and west through Kentucky and  Nashville, which got me to I-40, then I-30, then I-20 to complete the circle.  That was the last time I saw Rhoderick alive. But he was as hopeful as ever.

In Bethany I tagged along on a tour of the Campbell mansion Shelley had previously scheduled and took these photographs of Alexander Campbell’s outdoor study. My phone at the time was already old with a scratched lens, so all my photos from that time have a nice soft hazy aura to them. Now, the weather in Bethany that day was damp, cold, and grey, and foggy, and before night fell it was spitting snow as I drove to Morgantown. The village was still and calm and somehow a hazy aura just makes it all the more charming. I was on a tight schedule, and I wished that I could have lingered a bit longer.

From the mansion to the study. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

From the mansion to the study. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

From the study towards the mansion. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Bookcases on the right side of the room. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Ell with fireplace and window looking toward the mansion. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Bookcases on the right, looking toward the door. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Lux descendit e caelo. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Fireplace. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Door, in Gothic style, with matching side lights. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Skylight. Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Alexander Campbell’s study, Bethany, West Virginia, April 2018

Memories: Photographs and Stories from the Restoration Movement…2023 Pepperdine Bible Lectures presentation

Jerry Rushford, John Mark Hicks and Mac Ice present Memories: Photographs and Stories from the Restoration Movement.  Here is the slide presentation and here is the audio recording.

Spencer’s 89 credits

I have counted 89 credits to Claude Spencer’s assistance to scholars and authors in the prefaces, forewords, and acknowledgement pages in their theses, dissertations, and published monographs.

Where a dissertation was also published, I counted it twice.  Sometimes he was not credited when I am almost positive he assisted.  For example, Lester McAllister does not credit him in his dissertation on Thomas Campbell (which was published by Bethany Press in 1954, Thomas Campbell: Man of the Book).  I cannot conceive of Lester working on that dissertation apart from Spencer’s assistance in some form or fashion.  But, he is not credited and therefore not on my list.

My list only includes theses, dissertations and published monographs because there exist for these conventions for crediting research assistance.  The conventional place to look is in forewords, prefaces, and acknowledgments and if a credit is to be found, it is probably findable there first.  I chose not to explore published congregational histories for two reasons: 1) I do not have access to the DCHS files where they would be held; 2) such could handily take months.  I drew a line knowing there is more.

The earliest citation I can find is in George L. Peters, The Disciples of Christ in Missouri. Celebrating One Hundred Years of Co-operative Work. Centennial Commission [of Missouri Convention of the Disciples of Christ], 1937.

The latest is David Filbeck, The First Fifty Years, A Brief History of the Direct-Support Missionary Movement. Joplin: College Press Publishing Company, 1989 (second printing; copyright is 1980).

In 1954, six books appeared which credited Spencer’s assistance.  Seven appeared in 1958.  These represent his work with scholars in the years leading up to the move from Canton to Nashville.  As the work in Nashville was fully underway (and as he neared retirement), five titles appeared in 1963, 1964, and 1966, respectively.   After he retired he made himself available to consult with scholars and authors.  Though the numbers trail off, (no entries for 1974 or 1978) at least one new item per year appeared until 1980 (he died in 1979).

To what end?

Well, I wanted to chase a line of inquiry about his impact on scholarship and I cannot discern a better way than this to gauge impact for archivists.  Few there be who research in primary sources such as sets of personal papers, manuscripts, and organizational records.  These are the kinds of materials for which archivists prepare discovery tools such as finding aids, registers, calendars, and box- or folder-lists.  But scholars cite the location of the item at hand, rather than the creator of the finding aid which directed them to the collection, series, sub-series, or folder in which the item is housed.

So even when scholars use or rely upon the work of the archivist, the archivist is usually not credited.

And this is just for processed archival collections.   I can conceive of no way to measure the impact of collection development on scholarship, even if one tallied original library catalog records generated, it is another step to demonstrate impact on scholarship in tangible terms.   About the best that can be done in this area is to discern the number of original catalog records against the known total of all catalog-able items in a domain.  Assuming such is even possible.  At least then you could say that archivist or librarian X created access points to Y percentage of the body of published and archival knowledge Z in domain A or B or C.  Theoretically that could be possible in Stone-Campbell studies by somehow combining all OCLC records for all Stone-Campbell materials held at our several libraries, then cross-combing them for original records.   Don’t ask me how one could do that, or even if one could do that.

Another way to measure impact is to track the gross development of a collection over time, either as a whole or in some specific area.  However, in this case we would assess collections as such, and still we are left with no real way to measure (nor can they) how its development impacted scholarship. Simply put, the conventions just are not there that can accommodate this.

So, I am left with counting citations and notes of gratitude to Spencer in prefaces, forewords, and acknowledgements in theses, dissertations, and monographs.

All said, 89 over a career seems stellar to me, considering from my experience and what I know of his, that the explicit credits that are findable and countable in print are just the tip of the iceberg of assistance provided.

Ummm…isn’t this vain?

I can see how one would raise that objection.  In a sense, yes.  But in another sense, no.

One of the standards for obtaining tenure in academic settings is to demonstrate impact through scholarship, teaching, and service to the institution and one’s field.  One way to demonstrate impact is to publish peer-reviewed reviews, journal articles, chapters or monographs.  Other ways could include attempts to measure impact by measuring citations.  Though librarians and archivists are held to the same or similar standards, however they usually contribute to scholarship in ways in addition to or other than the traditional academic journal article or monograph.  Two primary examples come to mind: by creating catalog records (I have in mind original cataloging) for print materials and by processing archival material and generating finding aids.  In both cases they apply original and creative scholarly creative work to ensure materials are visible to scholars and the general public.  Thus they contribute to scholarship by facilitating it; further, done well and right the first time catalog records and finding aids will endure into perpetuity.  But even in these case, as I note above, assessing the creation of such is one thing; assessing the use of it–and counting credits to that use–is quite another.

I again ask, how can one measure, in definite and concrete terms, this impact?  Absent other methods, I think amassing a list of the known citations and credits to an archivist (Claude Spencer in this case) quite decisively demonstrates something of his impact on scholarship.

Hence this post.

Finding Aid Roundup: 2022 Year in Review

A few days ago I reblogged a post from the ACU Special Collections blog reviewing the growth of our print collection in 2022.  Last year I did this and want to indulge my readers here for one more cross-posting to describe our processing and finding-aid work for archival materials.

The basic definition I use to distinguish print vs. archival is that print items (books, periodicals, tracts, leaflets, and the like) were generally mass-produced for consumption by the public. Albeit some could have had a small print run, but they are printed on a press in quantity aimed at distribution and circulation.  Maybe mass-distribution, maybe a limited print-run, but distribution nonetheless.  

Archival materials on the other hand are unique by definition and by nature.  Unlike print items, archival materials are not intended for distribution.  And they almost always exist as singular objects.  Whether correspondence or diaries or photographs or manuscripts or other written or typed records, they were created in the course of doing something and usually that ‘something’ is not public-facing like print materials.

Print items are cataloged (we use Dewey Decimal System) and shelved (or sometimes filed in boxes or cabinets) with other cataloged items.  The catalog system is itself a schema imposed on the set of books to facilitate repetitive, accurate, and scalable discovery and growth.  Archival materials remain together in their discrete collection–collections are not intermingled–and are numbered as a set and the whole is shelved in folders in boxes. To facilitate access to archival materials, we creating Finding Aids. I could go on, but that is the gist of it.  Print stuff gets cataloged and archival material gets a finding aid, one per collection.

So each month or so my colleague Amanda Dietz composes blog posts describing new or updated finding aids. She also creates posts which delve deeper into select collections. Follow the link above and check out the ‘Foldered and Finished’ posts on the ACU Special Collections blog.

I said a few days ago I think it critical to keep our donors informed of the progress in building the collection.  I know lists of titles and authors are not the most compelling reading, and the same goes for lists of archival collections, but first-class research-level collections do not happen by accident or fashion themselves.  They do not drop from the heavens, they are built.  In our case, they are built almost solely by donors and used by researchers whose work deserves to be sourced by the very best collection that can be assembled.  They are built methodically, diligently, consistently, all for the purposes of preservation and use.  These lists of books and archival collections reflect that curation and growth.  So, I hope the lists are useful. For those interested in this slice of American religious history, this is our bread and butter. This is the raw material from which ‘history’ is wrought (and re-wrought).

In 2022 we had 61 accessions of archival material come across the board. Some of these were entirely new collections, other were accruals to collections we already had. Together, they added about 730 linear feet. Amanda, Erica, and student workers compiled or revised 99 finding aids for some 1,100 linear feet of material.

2022 was another exceptional year for generating high-quality and accurate full-form PDF finding aids to manuscript and records collections. While there is basic finding-aid information for all 575 collections online (most are here) but there are some University Records sets that are not online yet), this work brings us almost to the half-way mark in having full-form PDFs available. This kind of baseline work will pay rich dividends in the future because, all things being equal, once a collection is processed and described well, it probably will not have to be redone. We can always go back and enrich the description, but a good finding aid should endure forever. Beyond facilitating discovery for researchers, this lays groundwork for targeted digitization. But I think in broader terms it demonstrates to the university, our donors, and patrons that these materials are important. It also allows us to be responsive to new acquisitions and prevents a backlog of un-accessioned and therefore unknown and invisible material.

So with 575 collections in house, 282 have full-form finding aids; 293 remain, with about 36 of those in some stage of improvement already. In short, we’re getting there. Big thanks to my colleagues Amanda and Erica and our student workers for another year of great work!

Finding Aid Roundup: 2021 Year in Review

Doddridge’s shorthand habit

“It is a curious fact that of almost all his Correspondence, he kept an accurate copy in shorthand, [10] filling three manuscript volumes, from which the five London volumes above referred to are printed. From these and other voluminous materials examined, only those select and condensed portions are here given which are believed to be adapted to public and general interest and usefulness.”  J. R. B.

–“Preface,” James R. Boyd, Memoir of the Life, Character, and Writings of Philip Doddridge, D.D. with A Selection from his correspondence. New York: American Tract Society, 1860, pp. 9-10.

Some of us are old enough to remember (and to have used!) carbon paper.  I suspect someone, somewhere, still uses shorthand.  The fine art of putting pen to paper along the habits and paces of life which allow–much less encourage it–seem to have wholly passed us.  I have seen a fair amount of carbons, almost always in institutional records.  Rarely do I see shorthand.  Never have I seen three manuscript volumes of it, apparently kept on a regular and faithful basis.  

As an archivist, I wonder what became of Doddridge’s three manuscript volumes?  

As a historian , I then wonder who could decipher it? And what difference might it make?

Archivists and historians of the future, amid decaying hard-drives and floppy disks, password-less cloud accounts, and who-knows-how-many social media accounts, might pine for three manuscript volumes of shorthand.

The library and the heart

The Bulletin of Abilene Christian College, June 1928, for the upcoming 1928-1929 academic year describes the campus facilities. It includes this description of the library:

Description of the library, Bulletin, Abilene Christian College, June 1928. p. 18.  See https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth45915/m1/20/?q=bulletin%20abilene%20christian%20college%201928

About six months hence most of the library would be lost in a devastating fire.  Plans were already underway to relocate to a new campus northeast of downtown Abilene, but the 1929 fire hastened the exit from the First Street campus.  The library contained “nearly nine thousand volumes, about two thousand pamphlets and bulletins, and about fifty magazines and other periodicals on the essential fields of study and activities…”  The Bulletin hails “two distinctive features” of the collection: 1) the “unusually large Bible department” and 2) the “careful selection,” further stating “Many volumes are denied place on the shelves because [they are] not standard, not moral, or not true to scholarship and constructive Christianity.  Like the heart, a library is as valuable for what it keeps out as for what it has within.”

A collection of that size was reasonably adequate to support a “First Class” (see p. 17) four-year senior college curriculum.  To my knowledge no specific detail survives which outlined the criteria for inclusion, or exclusion, of books from the ACC library.  Therefore what I offer here is only a broad and suggestive first attempt.  I will be pleased to learn of–and i will keep looking for– details which might color and inform my hypothesis. 

I suppose the needs of the curricular offering were a major factor in collection development.  At least a major practical factor guiding the selection and acquisition.  At the same time and in a deeper way the stated purpose of the school undergirds a collection development policy such as the one outlined above.  The curriculum functioned as a basis upon which to offer credible and recognized four-year ars baccalaureus degrees.  And the library collection, as all libraries do, either served that end and facilitated that work to greater or lesser degrees.  But secular course offerings, along with the intellectual and moral development they represent, served a greater purpose in the mind of those who operated the school.  And the function of the library was at the conceptual core of the whole educational enterprise on North First Street, Abilene, Texas.  Compare the statement above in the context of the paragraph below, ‘Purpose of Abilene Christian College’:

Purpose of Abilene Christian College, Bulletin, Abilene Christian College, June 1928. p. 17.  See: https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth45915/m1/19/?q=bulletin%20abilene%20christian%20college%201928

By 1932 the 5000 books lost in the fire were replaced.  With a few additions the collection grew 10, 147 books.  “By special purpose in 1929,” notes the 1933 Bulletin, “a group of very interesting old books was added to the Rare-Books collection which now contains some volumes dating from as early as 1522.  It has a collection of Bibles in seventeen languages.” (Bulletin, 1933, pp. 7-8).  Margaret Bishop was librarian at the time.  She graduated from ACC in 1924 (BA) and from Vanderbilt University in 1927 (MA), and later studied in the summer term at the Drexel Institute of Library Science in Philadelphia.

The library staff at the time, in ways consistent with the general academic outlook of the school at the time, was attuned to the currency of higher education and library science.  They were not uninformed.  Apparently among the take-aways from Drexel that Margaret brought back with her Abilene was an awareness of the value and utility of rare books in an academic library.  She also reclassified the entire collection when she replaced the fire-damaged books.   Appearances suggest Margaret ushered in a tangible commitment to modern library science, upgraded the collection and the way it was viewed and used by the school, in significant and enduring ways.  In fact, by 1931 she was offering formal credit-bearing instruction in library science.  She and her administration were wholly committed to the implications of operating an institution of higher education the aim of which was “the glory of God, through the Lord Jesus Christ and the ennobling of mankind.”  This commitment, in the most fundamental way, informed and shaped their work and they were not afraid to guard the library collection like one would guard their heart.

Finding Aid Roundup: 2021 Year in Review

A few days ago I reblogged a post from the ACU Special Collections blog reviewing the growth of our print collection in 2021. I want to do the same for archival materials. The basic definition I use to distinguish print vs. archival is that print items (could be books, periodicals, tracts, leaflets, and the like) were generally mass-produced for consumption by the public. Albeit some could have had a small print run, but they are printed on a press in quantity aimed at mass-distribution and circulation. Archival materials on the other hand are unique. They are not intended for mass-distribution, often just the opposite, and almost always exist only in singular copies. Whether correspondence or diaries or photographs or manuscripts or other written or typed records, they were created in the course of doing something. Print items are cataloged (we use Dewey Decimal System) and shelved on the shelf (sometimes in boxes or filing cabinets). Archival materials remain in their discrete collection–collections are not intermingled–are numbered and shelved in folders in boxes. To facilitate access to archival materials, we creating Finding Aids. I could go on, but that is the gist of it.

So each or so month my colleague Amanda Dietz composes blog posts describing new or updated finding aids. She also creates posts which delve deeper into select collections. Follow the link and check out the ‘Foldered and Finished’ posts.

I said a few days ago I think it critical to keep our donors informed of the progress in building the collection.  I know lists of titles and authors are not the most compelling reading, and the same goes for lists of archival collections, but first-class research-level collections do not happen.  They do not drop from the heavens, they are built.  In our case, they are built almost solely by donors and used by researchers whose work deserves to be sourced by the very best collection that can be assembled.  They are built methodically, diligently, consistently, all for the purposes of preservation and use.  So, I hope the lists are useful. For those interested in this slice of American religious history, this is our bread and butter. This is the raw material from which ‘history’ is wrought (and re-wrought).

In 2021 over 600 linear feet of new old archival material came our way and passed through the processing room. It is all now on the shelves and along the way Amanda created or revised 125 finding aids.   That is a tremendous achievement and you can read more at the link below.

Finding Aid Roundup: 2021 Year in Review

Yours and HIS: Letters from W. Carl Ketcherside

Few individuals among Churches of Christ in the 20th century were as well-known as Carl Ketcherside (1908-1989). He described his journey as that of a piece-maker who became a peacemaker. He was for many a champion for the recovery of a lost unity amid a divided fellowship; for others, his voice represented a dangerous departure from historic restorationism if not biblical teaching. However his legacy is characterized, any interpretation of it rests on available sources: from a voluminous published corpus to archival materials from his own hand. On the one hand, ACU Special Collections holds a robust collection of his published books. Further we have copies or originals of as complete a set of his periodicals as is obtainable. On the other hand, we have numerous letters written by Carl to several of his associates. Never intended for publication, they shed additional light into his ministry and through his life, the wider story of Churches of Christ in his day. Each letter includes an attached transcription, and as a result of the typed transcriptions, the letters are now text searchable. We thank Ian Davidson, Cecil Hook. Hoy Ledbetter, Boyce Mouton and Terry Gardner for making the letters, transcriptions, and annotations available to ACU’s Special Collections.

During the 2013 ACU Friends of ACU Library luncheon during Summit I discussed the archival significance of this correspondence and the role archives play in the preservation and dissemination of our faith story. You can find this video presentation here.

Now, I was recently called attention to this speech. I composed it in haste, delivered it with some fear and trepidation, and then moved on. Fear and trepidation because this film captures the first time I spoke in front of an ACU audience, and on top of that Leroy Garrett was seated just in front of me. I also had a full plate in the fall of 2013 trying to begin to get the archive put back together after Donald, Chad, and I relocated everything to the lower level (in just four weeks) only 2 months prior. And we just moved into our house in late July and Laura and the girls started at school just a couple weeks before this Summit presentation. That was just the fullness of the moment. My plate stayed full since, and truthfully I did not really think about this speech again. Though the speech was filmed and placed online, I see now that I did not even take time then to link to it on this blog. I edited the ‘Spoken Word’ page to include a link.

But, I think it has aged very well. I listened to it again just now. I remember working very hard to condense it, to gain clarity, to maintain an even keel of tone and texture. But I do not remember the side line on archival practice. I like it. I’m glad I said it because it needed to be said then, and it needs to be said again. I like the way I said it, and I like what I said. I can see now that some of these thoughts filtered into an article I wrote for Restoration Quarterly.

So, here it is, my attempt to narrate a story about a man whose letters reveal much… much about him, his church, the imperatives which compelled him, and an archive which holds them in trust.

Just scan it! (?)

Expert: It would take hundreds of years to digitize records at Seattle National Archives: https://mynorthwest.com/1736786/seattle-national-archives-records-digitization/?fbclid=IwAR2IqZpRLjYOQ9QiOqtd6brFf85rlL96W93dx02nuzKM5unE4PaFbKHSgqk

My thoughts: 

First, apparently the archival collection in question is facing relocation, and the digitization proposal looks like a salvage operation aimed at getting something done before the records are buried even deeper in another facility. Institutions poised to receive collections really are on the front line of saving what could otherwise be lost, or buried in an undescribed or under-described deep-storage situation.  Maybe this is indicative of a trend toward larger, better funded, more capable repositories at the federal level?  Perhaps also in other settings?  For example, Perkins/SMU just received a large United Methodist archival collection from a closing sister institution.  https://www.smu.edu/Perkins/News/News_Archives/Archives_2021/2021-Methodist-Museum .   As institutions face space and budgetary contractions, other capable institutions who can acquire collections seem to be be doing so.  If not, I suspect the materials are parceled out at auction or otherwise dispersed (especially for small, local  museums).  

Second, I like Rencher’s straightforward, facts-based approach.  Simply put, folks who say ‘just scan it’ betray their lack of understanding of several critical aspects of the issues (see 3 and 4)  

Third, taking a cue from Rencher, here are some rough estimates for the ACU archival collections.  We have about 6000 linear feet of archival materials in the Center for Restoration Studies Collection (over 500 sets of papers ranging in size from a folder or two to 125+ boxes, each).  Linear feet/cubic feet distinction really doesn’t matter much here, because we are talking about a banker’s box of paper either way.  Our 6000 feet translates into about 12,000,000 pieces of paper, photos, etc.  Rancher’s example of one person operating one scanner for a full ‘camera year’ renders our collection fully digitized in 24 years, or the close of the academic year 2046.  That is, if we do not receive another item, and that does not count books, periodicals, tracts, or other print or A/V materials.  A/V materials require 1:1 conversion time, that is, a 30 minute tape needs to play for 30 minutes so it can be digitally captured with the equipment we have.  2046 also assumes perfect scanning conditions, with smooth prep, get-it-right-the-first-time, quality control baked into the process, no rescanning, getting file names right (and scalable).  So, start with the first collection today and in May 2046 we will be finished.  (Add another 24 years for the 6000 linear feet of University Records we currently hold).

Fourth, the article does not touch the hem of the garment in terms of digital degradation, the ancillary costs of supervisory time and equipment (especially if we scale up with additional scanners, which will wear out in time), conservation (if we choose to do any at the point of digitization), digital storage for that amount of data the scanning will generate (redundant and secure physical and cloud-based storage, in perpetuity), and the time and expertise necessary for some kind of metadata description, not to mention public access in some kind of online repository (which includes additional upload and description time).

I could go on and on, but I thought it might be useful to think aloud about this in terms of what we have in our collection.

Now, this might seem so gloomy.  I don’t intend that, but I think it helps to put facts against perception.  In this case, the perception that everything will be (or should be) scanned is not often rooted in a realistic understanding of what must happen to make that possible. 

With Quiet Diligence: How Claude Elbert Spencer Formed an Archival Tradition in the ­Stone-Campbell Movement

I published a chapter in The Faithful Librarian: Essays on Christianity in the Profession. (McFarland and Company, 2019) in which I provide for the first time a critical, source based account of Claude Spencer’s career and contribution to archival sensitivity in the Stone-Campbell Movement.  Below are the opening and closing paragraphs of the chapter:

As the pioneering archivist of the Restoration Movement or Stone-Campbell Movement, comprising the Christian Churches, Churches of Christ, and the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Claude Elbert Spencer (1898-1979) came onto the scene during the emergence and professionalization of library study and the concomitant higher expectation of library work in the academy; he possessed a native impulse and a unique vocational imperative to collect history; and finally he owned a theological subjunctive to embrace the breadth of Stone-Campbell material in a single archive.  This essay narrates the contours of his life’s story and work as it relates to the formation of the archive he conceived.  Further, it attends to the values and virtues that compelled his collecting and guided his service.  Spencer’s bibliographic work was exemplary and his archival work was peerless in his denomination. The story behind this work and the values that undergird it invite contemplation by those who would serve as archivists in denominational settings.

and

It is remarkable that a boy who learned to read at age nine would five years later become de facto librarian of his high school, and five years after that lead the library at his college in exchange for tuition, room and board.  It is remarkable that librarian who wouldn’t have known a Disciple book if it hit him in the head would compile a bibliography so authoritative it remains unsurpassed after seventy years.  It is remarkable that he formed a collegial society to serve the academy and the congregation, the graduate seminar and the Sunday school roundtable.  It is remarkable that he maintained an unrelenting commitment to charity and equal representation in collecting scope in the face of bitter intramural disputes over bureaucracy the very existence of which fractured the ecclesial fellowship he loved and served the entirety of his career.  It is remarkable that he recognized the need for, and advocated for needed research topics that were years ahead of their time.  It is remarkable that though he held no degree beyond the ars baccalaureus in education, no less than 84 master’s theses and doctoral dissertations credit his advice, counsel, and assistance.*  It is remarkable that he attained expertise with minimal formal coursework and professional training, but so mastered ‘library economy’ and was so productive in keeping up a demanding schedule, that the upon his retirement he was replaced by two and one-half full-time equivalents with graduate degrees in history, library science, and theology.

Spencer’s legacy survives in the several bibliographic works he authored, in the catalog records he generated, in the finding aids he assembled, and in the indexes he compiled.  His legacy survives among the holdings of Disciples of Christ Historical Society, of which he was visionary and architect.  His legacy endures in the community of librarians, archivists, historians, students and independent scholars he formed.  His legacy endures in the scholarship he facilitated by virtue of his quiet diligence in collecting, organizing, describing, preserving, and advocacy for print and archival materials of the Stone-Campbell heritage, consisting of the Christian Churches, the Churches of Christ, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and related groups.

The chapter was a sheer pleasure to research and write.  Stone-Campbell historical scholarship came into its own because of Claude Spencer.  First he raised awareness of its need, articulated that vision in plain terms, and then set about sourcing everything a scholar would need to write.  Look at the footnotes of the historical works published by or about anything Stone-Campbell since World War 2.  Look hard enough, and follow the references long enough, and you will find precious few that do not cite materials he gathered, inspired others to gather, or quote those who deal with those primary sources.  I think he surpasses all historians as the most significant single figure who has contributed to ‘Restoration history.’

*– I have since located two additional theses, for a total of 86.