O

by Alex

O is the Library of Congress Call Letter for home economics and cooking. Many researchers are surprised to find O dedicated to such a specific topic. However, cognoscenti such as myself know not just the contents of this call number, but the history behind it.

As many of you know, the modernization of the Library of Congress occurred in the early 1880s as a consequence of the provisions of the Great Compromise of 1877 which secured the presidency of Rutherford B. Hayes in exchange for the creation of the solid south. While the Great Compromise is remembered largely for the creation of Jim Crow, a key component was also democrat concessions for Northern internal improvements in exchange for Republican patronage. Obviously, most of this took the form of northern capital and managerial experience for the Texas Pacific railroad, key to spurring industrial development in the south. Less well known, however, was the padding of the staff of the Library of Congress with Democratic ‘patronage-men’.

It was the result of this agreement that saw Julius B. Dintwoodie — Samuel Tilden’s cousin — installed as official cataloguer of the Library of Congress. Prior to Dintwoodie’s appointment the Library of Congress was essentially staffed by low-paid volunteers, typically eccentric Boston Brahmins who attempted to piece together what was left of Jefferson’s original founding bequest after its destruction in the War of 1812. These former librarians of congress also served as ersatz acquisitions specialists but, of course, had no comprehensive plans for developing the library’s collections.

Dintwoodie’s position as cataloguer was meant purely as a sinecure, with no actual responsibilities besides enjoying life in the capital and collecting his paycheck. Sickly and affected with a slight hunchback, Dintwoodie was too young to participate in the civil war and was widely regarded as a shut-in by his family. Tilden’s remembrance of his cousin was meant, apparently, largely to assuage the nagging of his aunt.

It was to the great surprise of everyone who knew him, therefore, when Dintwoodie courted and then successfully married Eliza M. Cantwell, the youngest daughter of one of Maryland’s oldest and most established families. Stout unionists, the Cantwells epitomized the Victorian bourgeoisie and Cantwell,  a sort of proto-Jane Addams, met Dintwoodie at the theater and apparently recognized him immediately as a ‘fixer-uper’. A regiment of the usual bizarre Gilded Age remedies followed — hydrotherapy, various diets of raw vegetables and milk, and so forth.

As a result Dintwoodie’s health improved enormously and he also spent increasing time at work, fleeing the tender and yet controlling embrace of his spouse. Active and improving work was the only excuse Cantwell would accept for Dintwoodie’s time away from home. While Dintwoodie’s famous flask of whiskey – originally concealed from his wife in a hidden compartment in his desk — is now on display in the Library of Congress rotunda as a beloved piece of naughty-librarianship, it appears that on the whole he proved remarkably active rationalizing the library’s holdings, slowly creating the system we know and love today.

Or at least this is the official story. Many historians have seen Cantwell’s hand at work in the organization in the LOC — for instance in her stout organization of C, and the subtopics relating to kitchen science in T. O, the most obvious of Cantwell’s impositions, however, is O, which reflects first wave feminism’s concern with rational mastery of the home and bourgeois internalization of Protestant concerns with order and cleanliness. Increasingly today, however, postmodern scholars of archival science have argued that O might have served as a baited trap for Cantwell, distracting her in order to allow Dintwoodie to have his way with the Ps. Even more audacious authors, inspired by De Landa’s rationalization of Deleuze and Guattari’s theory of assemblages, have argued that Cantwell had no hand in creating the LOC and that O was an ironic countergesture by Dintwoodie meant to mimic and hence displace the hegemonic voice of his wife, which he had internalized.

And that, boys and girls, is the completely true story of the origin of O.