
While the earliest panoramic photographs were made from mounting together separate prints, by the late nineteenth century, specialized cameras were produced specifically for shooting in the format. The resulting prints range in size, with most measuring at least twenty-eight inches long. At various points in the Library’s past, the standard practice was to cut panoramas into two or more sections, which would be mounted on linen, allowing for the photographs to be folded and stored more easily. This is no longer our practice, but you can still see the remnants of this approach in images like the one below.

Panoramas were not just reserved for professional ball. The photograph below shows a game between two amateur teams, the Cleveland White Autos and the Omaha Luxus, which was said to have drawn a crowd of over 100,000. The viewpoint is an unusual one, focusing more on the spectacle than the game itself.

In the foreground, we can see a bandstand with many of the musicians turned to face the photographer.

Collegiate games were also documented in panorama, like this photograph from West Point.

The Library’s baseball panoramas include images taken in major metropolitan areas, such as this nearly five-foot-long photograph of a 1905 game at Pittsburgh’s Exposition Park:

They also document games in small cities and towns. The photograph below shows a small baseball field within an amusement park in Silver Lake, Ohio. Beyond left field, a roller coaster rumbles up an incline.

The alternating horses and automobiles lined up just off the next baseball diamond speak to the moment of technological and cultural transition in which these photographs were taken.

Another common use of panoramic photography in the early twentieth century was the large group portrait. This extended to the baseball field in the form of team portraits. Below, both teams playing in the first world series held by the Negro Leagues line up with league and team management at the center.


Larry the dog!

The panorama below caught my eye first because of the unusual viewpoint and the prominent rubber roof cement advertisement.

But, panning over the field, I was delighted to spot a photographer captured while shooting a team portrait.

Panoramas were also utilized in souvenir prints like the one below, which combines team portraits with a ballpark view. The photograph included here was taken by George Lawrence, a major figure in the world of panoramic photography. Utilizing the slogan “The Hitherto Impossible in Photography is Our Specialty,” the Chicago-based photographer was known for obtaining viewpoints unachievable by others through the use of tall ladders, balloons, and kites.

The Library has scanned many of these Lawrence panoramas at extremely high resolution and downloading the largest files allows viewers to spot remarkable details. Zoom in on this next image and you’ll find spectators perched on electric poles, leaning out of the windows of neighboring buildings, and balancing atop the billboard-lined wall. Note, too, the line of fans standing in for the outfield wall. One has to wonder about the risks of collision or fan interference!

This next Lawrence panorama was taken from the outermost reaches of the stadium during the 1906 World Series, featuring a crosstown match between the Chicago White Sox and the Chicago Cubs.

Before packing up his camera, Lawrence shot one more frame of the crowd surging onto the baseball diamond following the White Sox win on their home field.

While the high resolution scans of many of these photographs provide wonderful opportunities for close looking, the computer is hardly the ideal place to view a panoramic photograph. Come see us in the Prints & Photographs Reading Room to view the impressive scale of these images!
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The name of the game came from the sound the celluloid balls adopted for play in 1900 or 1901 made as they hit the rackets and table. Prior to that, players had used whatever was at hand, from champagne corks to rubber balls.
Ping-pong was popular, as evidenced by this 1902 double page spread in Puck, a humor magazine. Each vignette describes how every member of the household is obsessed with this new game, from the baby to the grandparents, to the exclusion of all else!

Each scene is accompanied by a humorous verse. In the center of the page, we have the clearly upset cook greeting the confused family of the house, as seen below. The verse reads:
The cook has departed
In dudgeon and scorn,
Because interfered with
At eight in the morn,
To give up the table
She’d had the night long,
And use it for breakfast
Instead of Ping-pong!

The popularity of ping-pong continued, seeing its competitive peak in the U.S. in the 1930s to 1950s. Our collections include a variety of people playing during this time, as seen in some examples below:





This clever advertisement from 1936 shows just how integrated ping-pong was in leisure and sport of the time. A series of ads for Le Gant’s Youthlastic undergarments featured a woman changing positions as she undertook various daily activities, showing just how easy it was to move in their flexible shapewear. The ad below shows how mobile a woman could be while wearing Le Gant garments during a competitive ping-pong match:

Grossinger’s, a famous resort in the Catskills, kept the nostalgia of ping-pong alive, as captured in this 1977 photo by John Margolies:

Ping-pong is played by millions of people around the world to this day, many at a competitive level and others purely for the recreation and fun of it!
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Documentation from the Farm Security Administration written records notes that the new fire lookout trainees were drilled in “fire prevention techniques, map reading, radio communication, fire weather, fire suppression, compass reading, pacing, and fire detection.” The caption for this image indicates Mortensen is in the process of identifying the source of suspicious smoke using a fire finder:

This photo shows the stunning view from the tower, including the area around Gorham, New Hampshire, and surrounding mountains:

The image below shows the sixty-foot tower that served as Mortensen’s duty station, with her and her Great Dane, Brenda, just visible at the base:

The caption for the photograph below of Mortensen petting Brenda indicates that her dog’s companionship made her work possible. Written records explain that Brenda had a more difficult adjustment to her new home than Mortensen did, and was scared of the high winds that swayed the tower and the steps that led up to it. Thankfully, it sounds like the dog adjusted to her new environment: “now both dog and mistress have made the tower their home, and while Barbara scans the horizon for tell-tale smoke, Brenda cocks her ears and looks solemnly off into the miles of mountains and space.”

Having a routine no doubt helped provide structure to Mortensen’s days and weeks on the mountaintop. In this photo we see her in the process of hoisting an American flag:

Physical activity was a necessary aspect of Mortensen’s work as a fire lookout. She had to travel downhill for a half mile to retrieve drinking water from a spring and then back uphill with 30 pounds’ worth of weight on her back.

An icebox built into the floor of the tower provided a convenient place to store goods that required refrigeration, such as milk, cheese, and bacon. Here, Mortensen is retrieving some items for lunchtime.

Despite the fire lookout tower’s remote location, many visitors evidently made their way up to visit, providing Mortensen with an opportunity to explain the importance of fire prevention and conservation, and to demonstrate some of her skills.

Though they provided an opportunity to correspond with her husband, Robert, nights were lonely according to the caption for the photograph below. Here we see Mortensen writing a letter to Robert, who was serving in the Navy as a Machinist’s Mate. His portrait is visible on the desk in front of her.

Individual photo stories like this one about Barbara Mortensen demonstrate how the work of a skilled photographer can provide insight into the lives of people living in a particular time and place. Many more stories can be found by exploring the collections further.
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A grid might provide guidance when learning a new skill, like writing:


A grid might help a designer translate between media, as is the case with this Winold Reiss drawing for a cover of Scribner’s Magazine.

Later, Reiss would use the grid as a decorative element in packaging design, as in the case of this candy tin:

Grids appear in daily life in many predictable and unpredictable ways.

The form provides structure to the small moments in life, like a game of checkers between friends.

Or even a BIG game of checkers between friends.

It also provides structure to the larger elements of our environment, like city streets:

The grid, we see through these images, is not a structure of conformity, but a lattice upon which we can create, build, and play.

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I think the photos below are effective in a number of ways, and perhaps it’s possible to speculate on the goal or intention. Were the photos of abundant food ready to be distributed a sign of a recovering economy and agricultural industry? Or were they simply scenes that were irresistible to a photographer with a good eye? Or both, because honestly, how could you not take this photo?

The soaring, seemingly impossibly high stacks of bags coupled with the man at the base providing a sense of scale create a dramatic photograph. While we can see the top of the stack, we can’t see the floor, so we can’t even fully understand the context this man is working in. The looming stacks give us an idea of the size of this operation, and of how much sugar has been processed and stored, ready for distribution.
In the photograph below, the geometry and repetition are the first things I notice. How far to the left and right and back do these baskets go? The caption reveals they are full of butter; what a delicious display!

Grain elevators by their nature are repeating, regular shapes, with their soaring concrete shafts full of grain. This photo of a seemingly endless grain elevator beautifully frames the word flour and includes a man at the base to emphasize the staggering scale.

Photos of perfectly aligned rows or stacks of items in an industrial setting send several messages: this work is being done with great precision and the workers are industrious, providing large quantities of items for production and in the case of the Office of War Information photos, for war. The way these identical machine-made objects are lined up and then repeated is pure satisfaction for the viewer. In some cases, the objects become almost abstract, just shapes, shadows and lines that create pattern.








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The charts are the visual components of a proposed plan for education over the first ten years of a child’s life. They were published in conjunction with a 336-page book written by Willson and entitled A Manual of Information and Suggestions for Object Lessons, in a Course of Elementary Instruction, Adapted to the Use of the School and Family Charts, and Other Aids in Teaching. The manual outlines the philosophy behind the system, as well as suggested uses for each chart for each level of a child’s schooling. This is a system based fundamentally on the sharpening of observation skills.
The first chart is meant to nurture early reading practices, building on the natural ways in which they have begun to learn about the world in early childhood.

Children, Willson writes, learn more rapidly from the ages of one to four than in any other period in life, learning to recognize the “names,…qualities, and uses of a thousand objects, and this it has done by keeping the senses of touch, taste, hearing, sight, and smell—the perceptive faculties—in almost constant and pleasurable activity.” Through stimulating the senses, we naturally learn about the world around us in a way that forms the foundational skills necessary for reading. “Let the teacher pursue the same order—ideas before words—and the child will soon learn to read as naturally as it talks.” Words are taught as representatives of things, in the same way that a picture is a representative of a thing.
Take, for example, the cap in the upper left-hand corner:

We might be tempted to help a child start to understand the word through the letters of the alphabet: C-A-P. But letters are just signs and what do these signs mean to a child at first? “I can associate, in the mind of the child, no ideas with them.” But “the rule which Nature has given me is ideas before signs.” Presented with an actual cap—or a picture of a cap—the child understands what it is through their own experience with seeing and wearing hats, and can therefore more easily move to an understanding of C-A-P as cap: the thing that sits upon one’s head. This, Willson tells us, is a system of object teaching, as opposed to elementary teaching (breaking down concepts to the smallest possible elements).
While the first chart presents words for sixty items (words that happen to contain all the letters of the alphabet), the second introduces short phrases.

Chart III has words and no pictures. Number IV has small pictures of simple scenes accompanied by short sentences. Numbers V and VI present more complex images, sentences, and questions.

The series continues with charts introducing concepts surrounding pronunciation, spelling, and writing. This is followed by a series of charts teaching the fundamentals of drawing.

Here again, Willson discourages beginning with the most basic elements (“Some teachers begin their lessons in drawing with the formation of straight lines, vertical, horizontal, oblique, and angular, and these they follow with exercises in forming curved lines”) in favor of observation of common objects. Again, he returns to the cap. The child should first attempt to sketch the outline of the cap while looking at the picture on the chart to get a feel for putting pencil to paper in the service of creating an image.

But they should very quickly be presented with an actual cap from which to draw. Lines and angles can come later once the child has a better understanding of their purpose:

The above chart can be used to teach both the principles of geometry and the fundamentals of geography—directions, distances, and absolute and relative locality (coordinates). Willson recommends that all of these lessons should conclude with students spending several days drawing an accurate representation of the classroom, an exercise he claims sharpens the understanding of drawing, geometry, and physical geography, in addition to introducing the idea of political geography. After all, the classroom is a “a microcosm, or a world in miniature” governed by a particular set of principles.
Once the class has understood the ideas behind shape, line, and volume, they might next turn to color:

Followed by biology, beginning with zoology:

And then botany:


For each chart, the manual suggests exercises suited for every level of schooling. For example, with the botanical charts, the youngest children might describe the characteristics of plants that are familiar to them, bringing in specimens for further examination. The oldest can develop a deeper understanding of the practical uses of these plants. Similarly, each chart can be used for multiple subjects. The botanical charts come with suggested lessons in spelling, drawing, and composition, as well as botany.
The charts were offered for sale either individually or as a set, with the option of mounting to a sturdy board. Several of ours are mounted and include a string for hanging (the two botanical charts I’ve included above are examples of each option).
In 1904, Willson patented a device meant to provide another option for display: an Educational Chart Exhibitor.

Willson published a pamphlet about the invention entitled An Educational Chart Exhibitor and a Brief Sketch of Some of its Numerous Applications. He envisioned a cabinet with a system of rollers inside that would allow a teacher to rotate through large charts and maps while keeping them “unsoiled, and new in appearance” (If you look closely at each of our charts, you’ll see a note across the top instructing that “the colored charts in this series should be left exposed to the light as little as possible.”). Willson even proposed that storybooks for young children could be enlarged and printed in scroll form, so that a classroom of nursery school students could easily see the story, cultivating “the observing powers of the little children, before they have learned to read.” It is unclear whether or not the Chart Exhibitor was ever produced.
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The following is a guest post by Helena Zinkham, Chief, Prints & Photographs Division.
Uncertainty. Shock. Fear. Sorrow. All those emotions ran through me on the morning of September 11th, 2001. The first sign of trouble was seeing smoke rise from a fire at the Pentagon. Any fire had to be intense for the smoke to be visible from the cafeteria on the top floor of the Library of Congress Madison Building, where I work.

I’m sorry to say that my initial thought, before I knew the cause of the fire, was how hard it would be to get home that night. I had been at the Pentagon not an hour before to change from a bus to the subway with thousands of other commuters. We soon learned that airplanes had struck the World Trade Center twin towers in New York City and another plane had crashed into the Pentagon. An additional airplane was rumored to be heading for Washington D.C.—either to the White House or the Capitol, which is across the street from the Library of Congress.
My experience as a distant witness to a terrorist attack was, of course, nothing compared to what happened to the direct victims and rescue workers. Our picture collections show the story unfolding in its full horror, conveying the immediate impact on New York City; Shanksville, Pennsylvania; Arlington, Virginia; and the nation. Hopeful moments include scenes where people helped each other, risked their lives, and created spontaneous shrines.





Twenty-five years later, I am grateful for the Library’s early efforts to document the attacks. Within hours, staff in the Library of Congress mobilized to record and gather for posterity first-hand accounts, images, and written reports of 9/11. These resources continue to be valuable witnesses for personal remembrance, community commemoration, or an introduction to a horrific event in American history.
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Producing a quilt can be an act of service. The children in the photograph below from the American National Red Cross Photograph Collection are piecing together a quilt, likely for wounded soldiers during World War I. It must have been cheering to receive a handmade gift that was not only useful but also beautiful.

Quilts can also represent efficiency and resourcefulness. The caption for this photograph taken in Greene County, Georgia, indicates surplus cotton was a key component:

In the image below, taken in Alabama in 1939, we can see several quilts hanging on a clothesline on a cleaning day. The photograph may be in black and white but it’s easy to imagine how colorful the display must have been, and how much these quilts must have enlivened the family’s living space.

Quilting can be an opportunity for intergenerational bonding, as I experienced as a child and as we see in this photograph of a grandmother and grandson in Kern County, California:

At times quilting can also be a solitary activity providing a moment for reflection. The technical and artistic skills of the woman in the photograph below are on full display. The caption for the image alludes to difficulties in this woman’s circumstances, as she and others in her rural Georgia community were being displaced by a planned project to build an Army training center during World War II. I wonder what might have been going through her mind as she worked on the quilt.

It is hard to imagine a more moving example of the community-minded aspect of quilt-making than the AIDS Memorial Quilt. Often cited as the largest ever community folk art project, the quilt is comprised of thousands of panels honoring the lives of more than 100,000 people lost to AIDS. The photograph below by Carol M. Highsmith shows parts of the AIDS Memorial Quilt laid out on the National Mall in 1996, with the U.S. Capitol in the background. The American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress is home to thousands of records related to the quilt, including letters and other mementos, which are viewable online and searchable by name.

This traditional art form serves many purposes, in different moments providing warmth, cheer, an outlet for grief, a celebration of life, and in all cases an opportunity to participate in a centuries-old practice.
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So, an unusual picture caught my eye some time ago:

The photograph is a photograph of a photograph. We see this often in some of our archives related to institutions that had their own publishing and advocacy wings. If they possessed only a print of an image and not the negative, they sometimes photographed it for reuse in publications, as seen in these linked examples from the American National Red Cross and the National Child Labor Committee collections.
The image being photographed here by the Red Cross shows a group of about 45 schoolboys with their two teachers. Each boy poses with a birdhouse. There are many that resemble the classic child’s drawing of a house: square base, triangular roof. There’s an A-frame, a massive two-story structure with six arched entryways, and a log cabin. Many are adorned with the Red Cross logo, the immediately recognizable square cross. Some look carefully measured and sturdily constructed, while others slant and wobble.
Immediately after spotting this photograph, I started seeing birdhouse contest photographs everywhere in our early 20th century photojournalism collections. Here, for example, are Jack and Peggie Baker proudly showing off their bark-covered creations. Zooming in on their ribbons after downloading our highest-resolution scan, you can just barely make out that these are their entries into the American Forestry Association’s birdhouse contest.

A look through newspaper and magazine archives reveals that birdhouse contests were (and occasionally still are!) sponsored by schools, social clubs, scouting organizations, and advocacy groups like the Audubon Society and the American Forestry Association. The contests were framed as opportunities for schoolchildren to learn about nature, design, and craftsmanship.

One contest in Trenton, NJ, which was sponsored by the American Forestry Association, was written about in the February 1919 issue of their magazine, American Forestry. Trenton’s City Forester, M.M. Burris, wrote about the city’s decision to host the contest: “Believing in preventive medicine, and knowing that our native insectiverous [sic] birds are a strong factor in suppression of insects attacking our trees I urged a campaign for the starting of the bird-house building contest.”
The article laid out the contest’s rules: 1. The house was to be suitable for a specific set of birds native to the area: the bluebird, robin, chickadee, white-breasted nuthatch, house wren, martin, song sparrow, phoebe, red-headed woodpecker, and sparrow hawk. 2. The contest was open to boys from the fifth, sixth, and seventh grades. 3. The houses were to be well constructed in a way that protected them from all types of weather. 4. The contest was to close on April 1, 1918. 5. At the close of the contest, all the birdhouses were to be given to the city to Trenton to be installed in their public parks.
Below we see two boys installing a birdhouse in a Washington, D.C., tree following another American Forestry Association contest, suggesting that those rules applied here as well.

The above photograph was published in the January 30, 1921 edition of the Washington Evening Star with a caption explaining that the birdhouse the boys were installing had won a blue ribbon. On the same page, the newspaper published an alternate shot of the below scene. The newspaper’s caption identifies the man as Representative B.H. Snell of New York. Here, Congressman Snell awards a ribbon to a student outside of Wilson Normal School in Washington’s Columbia Heights neighborhood.

A photographer from Harris & Ewing, another news photography agency whose archive is in our collection, was also at the event:

The photographs in our collections repeatedly show the birdhouse contests to be favorite events of political figures. Here is another award ceremony hosted by Pennsylvania Senator George Wharton Pepper.

Another view of the ceremony reveals its location to be the east side of the U.S. Capitol building.

Mr. Burris, the Trenton forester, observed that the boys who participated in the contest “flocked to the Public Library in search of information regarding birds and bird-houses.” Flocked! This preparation for the contest was successful in “instilling civic patriotism into the hearts of about a thousand anxious boys who were soon ready to start with their saws and hammers.” In their final designs, they used materials ranging from “soap boxes, tin cans, scrap lumber, buckets, funnels, flower pots, logs, bark and every other conceivable material which could be worked into a bird-house.” I’m hoping that you too will now be inspired to help the trees by helping the birds. What materials might you use?
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At first, it’s a bit hard to understand what’s happening. There’s a large crowd surrounding three horses hitched to what I think is an old fire engine of some kind. Usually, there is some urgency when the fire department is involved, so what’s the story here? I look a little closer and see a lot of men in uniform, either fire department or police department. I also see lots of children craning to see, several getting a boost from an adult, the wheel of a car, or even a stepladder at lower right. So this is an event of some kind? Maybe a parade?
The caption hints at the story: Last run of Barney, Gene, and Tom, Dist. Fire Dept. horses, 6/15/25. It is instantly delightful to learn these white or gray horses have names, and such charming ones at that. Further research identifies the machine they are pulling is a steam-powered water pump, also called a “steamer,” used to pump water for the firemen at the site of a fire. The “last run” part concerns me – but the date of 1925 is a hint. With motor vehicles available for decades by that time, it’s likely that the horses are being replaced by their mechanical counterparts.
I searched again and found this photo:

Now, this is more like it! It’s thrilling to see the horse team charging through the street, pulling the steamer and a crew of firemen, with crowds lining the street for a proper send-off. I found news articles about the day, and learned this was a ceremonial run for the last three remaining fire horses, Barney, Gene & Tom. This trio had similarly galloped through the streets of Washington, D.C., for a decade, helping to rescue buildings and people of the city from fire.
In 1925, the only remaining firehouse with an intact stable was Engine House no. 19, formerly Chemical Engine House no. 2, as seen in the photo below. Are these three horses the same ones – Barney, Gene & Tom? We don’t know, but it seems very possible!

The morning of their last run, Barney, Gene & Tom were brought from Engine House No. 19 to their old stomping grounds on Capitol Hill, Engine No. 8, near Eastern Market, seen below on the right in a later photo. The stalls filled with vehicles here would see horses run out of them for one last time on this June day in 1925.

It started like any other run, with a specific set of bells ringing to alert the horses they were needed. And off they went, with crowds lining the streets to see them charging down North Carolina Avenue, S.E. to Lincoln Park, with the U.S. Capitol rising behind them as they finished. I imagine the first photo I came across is from after their run, with grateful Washingtonians crowding around to touch history, perhaps to thank these horses for their years of dedicated service.
All three horses were retired to pastures in Blue Plains in Southwest D.C. to spend their retirement. Articles I read mention they would only come out of retirement for Labor Day parades, so I returned to our collections, hoping for one more glimpse of Barney, Gene and Tom. Here they are, unnamed, but unmistakable, in the Firemen’s Labor Day parade of 1929, pulling a steamer, albeit at a much slower pace!

In 2025, on the 100th anniversary of the last run of D.C.’s firehouse horses, the D.C. Fire and EMS Department recreated that run with a restored 1905 steamer (the same one?) and three horses, down the same stretch of North Carolina Avenue S.E. The video shared by the department online of this event also includes a silent clip of Barney, Gene & Tom on their last run back in 1925. You can almost hear the clatter of their hooves as they charge down the street.
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