This month our Peabody Curator of Collections, Marla Taylor, was featured in Phillips Academy’s “Employee Spotlight” section of the campus community Gazette – a weekly internal newsletter for Phillips Academy faculty and staff.
Each week, a member of the PA campus community is nominated and selected to share details about their role and work. We are excited to see one of our Peabody staff members highlighted and are grateful for all the support Marla has contributed in the 18+ years she has been with the Peabody and Phillips Academy.
Check out the article below and congratulations to Marla for being featured!
In January of this year, Peabody Institute staff were kicked out of the Peabody Institute building as the start of renovations loomed near. Fortunately, construction elsewhere at Phillips Academy meant that the Dean of Students moved into new digs, leaving available their suite in the basement of George Washington Hall to claim as our temporary-own. A Goldilocks fit, the space had five desks available for five Peabody folk, plus a bonus meeting room for meetings.
Or – could it be a meeting room for classes? Lore tells of Peabody staff moving into the School Room on the Abbot Academy campus for the first phase of building renovations. To continue teaching classes, staff valiantly packed up boxes of collections, carrying them from classroom to classroom along with all their teaching supplies: gloves, ethafoam, trays, and, goodness help them, laptops.
I wasn’t at the Peabody yet, so I have only heard the tale. It sounded very impressive and intrepid and like quite the adventure, and every lazy bone in my body knew I wanted nothing to do with it. And so, with my colleagues, I began carefully planning every piece of furniture we would bring over to our GW bonus room, with every permutation of every collections activity thought out. We measured twice and cut once, determined to make this suite available for teaching.
There is nothing more satisfying than a carefully considered plan that actually goes exactly as intended. Is it sometimes maybe slightly cramped? Yes. Does it always work? Yes. Am I a little smug? Oh, heck, yes.
Trying our hands (and waists and legs) at some new instruments with MUS410 Your Musical Brain.
Meeting the Inuit who met the Vikings with HSS100B Sojourns Across a Connected World.
Prepping for the ceramics studio with ART302 Clay and the Ancestral Pot. (What? Room to stand up and walk around? Incredible.)
Imagining the world of the New Testament with PHR330 New Testament.
Hanford and reactor as seen from across the Columbia River. PHOTO: by nblumhardt
In the late 1940s, former Manhattan Project scientist and Nobel Prize chemist, Willard Libby, developed a powerful tool for dating archaeological remains using radioactive decay. Organic materials, such as wood, absorb radioactive carbon-14 isotopes from the environment. Upon death C-14 decays at a steady rate of ½ every 5,730 years, a phenomenon called a half-life. To simplify the process massively; the remaining C-14 in organic remains can be measured to determine the date of death.
This dating method was complicated by nuclear testing, which doubled the amount of C-14 in the environment. The global impact of human activity on the climate and environment, including nuclear testing, led to the proposal of a new geologic era that began in 1950, the Anthropocene. Although not officially accepted as a new epoch due to lack of consensus regarding the start date, there is no denying the atomic age has changed the planet.
When I was a baby archaeologist, freshly graduated with an undergraduate degree, the second project I worked on was an archaeological survey on the Hanford Nuclear Reservation in Washington State. The Hanford site was part of the Manhattan project and home to reactors and processing plants that supplied plutonium to the military during the Second World War. After the war, plutonium production at the site was fueled by the cold war arms race and continued for almost thirty years. It is now considered the most contaminated site in America.
Map of the Hanford Site: DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY
By the time I worked at the Hanford Site, the reactors were decommissioned and entombed in steel sarcophagi, a process called ‘cocooning.’ Cleanup at the site had been going on for decades. Our survey area, though large, was located far away from the reactor sites. From my perspective, the nuclear reservation was huge, seemingly empty and very quiet.
The survey project covered thousands of acres and included mile-long transects. The landscape of the Columbia Plateau is beautiful. The ground is covered in sandy soil and dotted with sage brush. On hot days the smell of sage is dizzying.
We found and recorded can dumps, historic artifact scatters, and a handful of isolated stone tools. The area has an Indigenous history that dates back at least 11,000 years. More recently, the site was used as ranch land and was home to homesteads, farmsteads, and townsites. When the site was commissioned, the existing communities were evicted and the towns razed.
If I had concerns about working on a nuclear reservation, hours of safety training helped quiet some anxiety I had going into the project. I was still new to archaeology, so my attention was mostly focused on learning and doing a good job. We had one heat-exhaustion scare, so hot temperatures seemed like the project’s most pressing danger.
However, one day while working on the banks of the Columbia River, where the post-eviction remains of the town of Hanford looked like they were bulldozed into the river, nuclear activists in kayaks came close enough to ask us what we had witnessed on the site. This encounter, along with others like test wells and magenta and yellow barricades denoting radioactive hazards cut through the seeming normalcy of the project.
My memories of the project at Hanford have been freshly recalled because I’ve been listening to the Time Zero podcast. Time Zero tells the tale of the nuclearized world. Its creator, Sean J Patrick Carney is an artist, writer, and composer.
Carney tells the story of nuclear development through the eyes of Indigenous and non-native activists, historians, downwinders, artists, and archaeologists. Rather than a dry retelling of the history of nuclear development, the people and locations he presents keep the content engaging. At times the podcast delves into a critique of pop culture and at other times revisits catastrophes both well-trodden and lesser known.
As an example, growing up in eastern Washington State, I heard whispers of cancers attributed to but never concretely pinned to the Hanford site. Time Zero briefly covered the Green Run, the 1949 planned release of radioactive Iodine-131 from Hanford that would allow the government to develop technologies for tracking nuclear particles in the environment.
A National Parks Service history of the Green Run explained that the experiment was botched, releasing twice the amount iodine than planned. Unforeseen weather conditions blew the particles all across central Oregon and eastern Washington. While this release was considerable, the total amount of radioactive iodine over the three decades of work at Hanford was nine thousand times that of the Green Run.
The podcast is dense and full of too many facts to recount in this blog. If you are a fan of reading, the podcast has an accompanying Substack with free access. It includes images that provide context for readers and listeners alike.
The relevancy of Time Zero is particularly potent now, as the tech sector is seeking energy for data centers central to the development of AI technologies. Nuclear is often mentioned as a clean and safe option and advocates of nuclear energy argue for ramping up construction of new power plants.
Yet, the history of nuclear technology across the world, and in the United States specifically, includes instances of removal and contamination of people caused by extraction, production, and testing of nuclear products. As Carney and his Indigenous collaborators point out, no one in the U.S. has borne the burden of the Atomic age more directly than the Indigenous communities.
Indigenous lands have been and still are considered expendable to the nuclear industry. Most of the uranium mining, bomb-testing, and planned storage of waste materials has targeted Native lands. It’s a legacy that is at risk of being repeated if the tech industry is to be believed.
The Anthropocene dawned somewhere between 300 and 70 years ago. The lasting impact of the epoch is outsized compared to its young age. Half-lifes of spent nuclear fuel are geologic in scale and almost unfathomable. Plutonium decays at a rate of ½ every 24,100 years. It will be considered safe in 240,000 years. Uranium decays at ½ every 4.46 billion years (roughly the age of our planet). Nuclear’ s longevity is probably the most impactful takeaway from Time Zero.
Go check out the podcast and site. Though the material is heavy, there is hope that comes from art and activism.
We had a successful PA Giving Day last week! Special thanks to all those who participated in supporting the Peabody and contributing to our match challenge, generously shared by a pair of Peabody donors.
PA Giving Day represents a critical milestone in our fundraising efforts for the Peabody. Last year we raised 77% of the Peabody’s total annual support from 65 donors in just one day, achieving our match goal in the process and engaging new PA alumni and friends of the Peabody during PA’s collective day of giving.
This year our goal was to exceed last year’s success by leveraging this collective day of giving to achieve even more in honor of our year of critical Peabody milestones and to celebrate the Peabody’s 125th anniversary.
The final dollar figures and donor counts for the Peabody are not in yet, but the overall day raised over $1.6 million from more than 1,850 donors towards Andover academics, financial aid, the arts, athletics, and outreach programs.
For the past 5 years I have been co-facilitating the development of the Indigenous Collections Care (ICC) Guide. The ICC Guide is now nearly complete and I wanted to share some updates.
The inspiration for the ICC Guide grew out of email exchanges I had with ICC co-facilitator Laura Byrant (Director of Repatriation for the Gilcrease Museum) about how to best to steward collections that were awaiting physical repatriation. We realized there was often a tension between museum practices and tribal priorities for cultural collections. Conversations with colleagues revealed that there was little or no established guidance on how to incorporate Indigenous cultural care needs into collections stewardship practices. We created a working group to discuss the issue and the seeds of the ICC Guide were sewn.
With an IMLS National Leadership Grant for Museums in 2023 and a strategic partnership with the School for Advanced Research (SAR) in Santa Fe, NM, the ICC Guide was collaboratively written and covers every aspect of collections stewardship. It provides frameworks to recenter collections stewardship practices in ways that respect the needs and knowledge of Indigenous community members. It serves as a bridge between Indigenous community perspectives and traditional museum collections management—on the individual, community, and institutional level—helping those involved in all aspects of collections to engage in a meaningful conversation about culturally appropriate care.
The approach outlined in the ICC Guide is grounded in meaningful consultation with communities whose cultural materials can be found in institutional collections. In fact, the guide has been reviewed by approximately 120 individuals, including over 70 Tribal representatives.
So far, registration and attendance at these webinars has been fantastic. The panelists have done a tremendous job of sharing their expertise and engaging the audience. We are so grateful for their time and efforts.
Of course, the culmination of all of this will be when the ICC Guide is ready to be shared with the museum field and the public. When will that be? We are in the final editing stages and soliciting one more round of feedback. We don’t have a date set quite yet but I can say that it will be in the Fall of 2026. You can sign-up on our website to be notified when the ICC Guide is available.
Please email me (mtaylor@andover.edu) with any questions you may have. I am so excited to share this work with the broader museum/repatriation/tribal community!
Phillips Academy’s March 2026 spring break allowed for a family trip to Rome. These family vacations are often something of a busman’s holiday, with numerous excursions to museums, galleries, and ancient ruins. This week in Rome was no exception, and included lots of ruins, a day trip to Ostia Antica, as well as a visit to the newly opened mini-museum at the Colosseum subway station, and, truthfully, many, many more sights.
I visited Rome once before, as somewhat of a treat after receiving my master’s degree in 1992—that trip included a whole swath of Italian cities and only allowed for some Roman highlights (like the Colosseum).
Sphinx, Greek Cross Room, Vatican Museums. pink granite, likely first century CE.
What I came to appreciate on this trip was a little surprising—just how much Egypt influenced ancient Rome. I feel like I should have known this, especially since my graduate coursework included some wonderful Roman, Greek, and Egyptian art history classes from the late Barbara Barletta.
Obelisk, Piazza Navona. This monument was commissioned by Emperor Domitian and was eventually incorporated into Bernini’s Fountain of the Four Rivers.
Not far from where we stayed—and in the Piazza della Rotonda—right in front of the Pantheon—we encountered an Egyptian obelisk. Apparently, there are around twelve or thirteen obelisks throughout Rome, some Roman recreations of Egyptian architecture, others actually brought from Egypt. The one by the Pantheon is covered in hieroglyphics, including cartouches that link it to Ramses II.
A complete tour of Egyptian obelisks in Rome was not on our itinerary, but we did manage to see quite a few, including the Flaminio Obelisk, originally from Heliopolis, dating to the thirteenth century BCE and brought to Rome by Augustus in 10 BCE (now in the Piazza del Popolo); the Sallustian Obelisk (at the top of the Spanish Steps, opposite Santissima Trinita die Monti—its hieroglyphs seems to copy those of the Flaminio Obelisk); the 1667 Elephant and Obelisk in the Piazza della Minerva, designed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini and incorporating a sixth century BCE obelisk; and the Obelisk of Montecitorio or Psamtik II, which had formed the gnomon of a Roman sundial. In fact, the lure of the obelisks was so great that I wandered off to get a closer look at the obelisk in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican.
In case you were wondering about the obelisk used as the gnomon of a Roman sundial, here is an eighteenth century depiction of the horologium of Augustus, engraving by Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720-1778), from Opere di Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Francesco Piranesi e d’altri. Firmin Didot Freres, Paris, 1835-1839, Volume 10.
Sadly, time did not permit a tour of the Egyptian gallery at the Vatican Museums, but we did spot several interesting pieces of Egyptian statuary as we pushed through the crush of humanity along with the other 35,000 daily visitors. I was particularly taken with a pair of Egyptian style pillar-statutes in the Greek Cross Hall. You can tell these are Roman copies of Egyptian artwork by their pose—the first century Romans went for symmetry, alternating right and left feet forward, while the Egyptian convention dictated the left leg forward.
Anubis featured on a fresco in an early Roman home, later built over by the Baths of Caracalla. Cults of Egyptian gods were prevalent in Rome 2,000 years ago.
Many of the ancient obelisks had been parts of temples, removed and reset in later times. We also got a sense of just how pervasive Egyptian art, architecture, and deities were in ancient Rome with a glimpse at a fresco showing Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian god of death, in the ruins of a Roman house pre-dating the construction of the Baths of Caracalla by several hundred years.
Egyptian sphinxes and faux-hieroglyphics in the Egyptian Room, Galleria Borghese hint at the Egyptomania of late eighteenth century Rome.
Egyptian influences continued well into later periods, as evident in the late eighteenth century Egyptian Room in the Galleria Borghese, which includes non-sensical hieroglyphic decoration, lots of red granite, Egyptian style ornamental architecture, and Greco-Romanized Egyptian gods in the ceiling frescoes. So, not only was Egypt an inspiration to the ancient Romans, but borrowing designs, materials, and items continued for a long time!
A zippy cab ride back to the airport provided a quick glimpse of a pyramid in Rome as well (though I was too slow to snap a pic). The pyramid, built around 18 BCE, serves as the tomb of Caius Cestius, a Roman official, who may have been involved in Roman campaigns against Meroe, explaining his interest in the steep pyramids that contrast with those at Giza. Originally out in the countryside, the pyramid has been incorporated into more recent city walls and enveloped by the bustling metropolis.
More subway construction, Piazza Venezia, which will feature a new mini-museum!
We agreed that we needed to return to Rome at some point, and I’m positive we will find more Egyptian pieces! We learned about additional mini-museums being created at new and expanded subway stops, so we will have those at the top of our itinerary.
AI seems to be everywhere these days. A recent real-world example of AI creep came during this year’s Super Bowl where roughly 25% of the ads that aired were about AI or utilized AI to generate ad content. In general, the ads promised increased productivity and greater inclusion of AI in our everyday lives.
Aside from the occasional Google Lens image search, I haven’t found a productive use for artificial intelligence in my everyday life. A recent study of ChatGPT interaction logs illustrated that, by rank, people engage AI most for creative composition, “romantic” role-playing, planning, and as a source of general information. Productive uses for AI, including coding and academic composition, came in farther down the list.
In my work at the Peabody, I engage in data management tasks that are repetitive or deal with large amounts of data. I have learned to use Excel tools to make my work more efficient (VLOOKUP- if you know, you know). However, some tasks are more complicated and in recent years we have explored AI as a tool for processing them.
Example of catalog card with provenience information to extract.
One such complicated process is transcribing institutional records. We have roughly 50,000 catalog cards that are associated with our collections that were accessioned between the 1930s and 1970s. These cards hold valuable information on provenience and provenance for our collections and should be included in our database. Extracting the text from these cards would normally require time-consuming transcription of text by hand into an excel document.
As an example, in 2019 we were awarded an Abbot Academy Fund grant to hire a temporary staff member to transcribe our handwritten accession books. The process took a little over a year and, eventually, three staff members were tasked with completing the project. By comparison, the catalog cards would likely take just as much or more time to process.
Unlike the handwritten ledgers, the typed catalog cards have the benefit of being able to be converted to searchable text through the use of Optical Character Recognition (OCR). Many of us have converted a PDF into a searchable document with OCR. The technology is standard in many PDF readers these days.
Various attempts have been made over the years to use OCR to extract the text from our catalog cards. The process is complicated because, in the case of these cards, a block of text is useless unless it can be related to the field it originated from. OCR is also an imperfect technology; it can include a lot of errors. Despite these problems, it can be helped with a bit of training.
Normally, OCR spits out text in a single block, which is not helpful for isolating fields of text.It also includes many errors.
PA students embarked on the first attempt to read and extract the catalog card data. They created a computer program which read and extracted text from the cards and placed the text in corresponding fields. Even better, their model could be trained through the use of Machine Learning thereby improving the program’s accuracy over time. OCR, on its own, utilizes pattern-recognition which does not qualify as Artificial Intelligence. Once Machine Learning was incorporated the program fell squarely within the realm of AI.
This is an example of the PA student’s program user interface. The output could be improved by editing the text fields above the image of the catalog card.
Output from the program was quality checked by humans; this was one of my weekly tasks when I first started working at the Peabody. In theory, the errors I and others corrected were fed back into the program. Once the output was loaded, the program would improve with subsequent readings.
Unfortunately, the student who spearheaded this program graduated and the project fizzled out without seeing results from the Machine Learning. Not long after, I found that I was consistently going to the catalog cards for provenience information. I realized that the project had serious benefits for our data management and I decided to take it on in my free time.
I found Tesseract OCR, a free and powerful tool for extracting text from images. I learned to use it in concert with tools to target specific areas of the cards so that the extracted text could be associated with its field of origin. The results were not great, so I learned how to improve the quality by correcting errors and feeding them back into the program. I basically recreated a very crude, inelegant and less functional version of the student program.
Kull, a free tool for pointing Tesseract at specific fields to read.OCR output with field separation.So many errors in my Tesseract output.To train Tesseract, box files are created around each character to correct the programs output. Way too much work!
Early training showed that the program was probably not going to improve without a lot of input. I decided to stop working on the project at that point.
In the intervening years, AI tools have been developed that can read text with greater accuracy. We learned of a museum professional using Microsoft’s Power Automate to read catalog cards. We reached out and got a basic roadmap for how we could make the program work.
This is the visual workflow I set up. Once an image is placed in the folder, the model reads the card and extracts text into an excel file.This data is still a bit messy, but it is a huge improvement over what I obtained using Tesseract.
Very briefly, the AI Hub within Power Automate allows you to create a visual workflow that skips the need to write code. In addition to the workflow, I trained a model on ten examples of catalog cards. The training process allows you to select fields for the model to read. With the model trained and a workflow created, I was able to generate an Excel document where the extracted fields would be output.
The process of understanding how to set up the workflow, how to trigger it, and how to send the output into Excel were challenging. It required tinkering and several YouTube videos to get it function. It was not easy, but it was achievable, eventually.
And now, the Peabody has entered the AI age. If you need any advice on how to set up a workflow for reading documents, please feel free to reach out to me. Best of luck in your AI exploits.
Front page of the Illustrated London News. January 26, 1901.
Margaret Mead stamp, US Postal Service souvenir sheet, Celebrate The Century: 1920s. May 28,1998. Copyright United States Postal Service. All rights reserved.
British and Japanese forces engage Boxers in battle.
“Melbourne Rejoices in the Commonwealth.” Parliament of Australia.
Booth’s vacuum cleaner at work, 1903. Science Museum Group Collection.
Jagtime Johnson’s Ragtime March; 1901 sheet music cover.
1901 Chicago White Stockings.
Nobel Prize medal.
1901 Kidder Steam Runabout, Kidder Motor Vehicle Company advertisement. New Haven, CT.
Spread from the 1901 Circle, Abbot Academy Yearbook.
Hitting a major birthday like a 125th is no small thing. Even institutions established to preserve history in perpetuity – like, say, an archaeology museum – rarely last even a fraction of that time. The Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology reaches this milestone on March 21, and it offers a moment for introspection: how did we manage to make it this long? What has the Peabody done in that time? What from our past continues to inspire us today – whether as something we seek to sustain or that guides us toward new directions?
I hope you aren’t now looking at me to answer any of these questions. These are thoughts to let tumble around the entirety of this anniversary year, and beyond. (Possibly we should all start our quasquicentennial with a (re)reading of “Glory, Trouble, and Renaissance at the Robert S. Peabody Museum of Archaeology” – because, yes, Emma, I am fancy!).
Instead, I want to go all the way back to the beginning. If we are going to ask how far the Peabody has gone, we have to know where the Peabody started. This makes me wonder: What was the world the Peabody was born into? What did 1901 look like? With the help of Google, below is an absurdly partial snapshot of life as the Peabody came onto the scene.
[Word of warning: despite my best intentions, it turns out that when you’re doing a Google search, in English, with an internet connection in MA, and an education obtained almost entirely in the US, Canada, and Australia; and when you’re trying to find examples of events that you think will be “recognizable” and “interesting” – you end up with a pretty biased list. You would almost think from my snapshot below that the only noteworthy things to happen came out of the US and Great Britain (which I think is wrong?). Please bear in mind AAALLLLLL the other places and people and happenings not remotely referenced here while reading.]
In no particular order and with truly no claims of significance:
A lot a lot a lot of people died. Some of these deaths were noted by historians, and even the general public. These included: Queen Victoria (at the time the longest reigning monarch of Great Britain); President William McKinley (the third US sitting president to be assassinated); and Cecil Franklin Patch Bancroft (the 8th Principal of Andover’s Phillips Academy).
A lot a lot a lot of people were born. Even more than the number of people who died. Eventually history would care about some of them. These included: Louis Armstrong, Walt Disney, Hirohito, Langston Hughes, Margaret Mead, and Ed Sullivan.
As typical, there were far too many military engagements. Such as: the Second Boer War in South Africa (then ongoing); the Philippine-American War (then ongoing); the War of a Thousand Days/Colombian civil war (then ongoing); and the Boxer Uprising/Yihetuan Movement in China (formally ended with the signing of the Boxer Protocol).
Other political-type stuff happened: The six British colonies of Australia federated to form the Commonwealth of Australia. The US’s Platt Amendment made Cuba a US protectorate. The US and Great Britain signed the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty, giving the US exclusive right to build and manage a canal in Panama. In his first annual message to Congress, US President Theodore Roosevelt stressed the need to treat Native Americans as individuals rather than as members of separate sovereign nations, and to break up tribal funds in the same way allotment broke up tribal lands.
We got some cool new technologies: Guglielmo Marconi sent the first transatlantic radio transmission; it said “S.” The first United Kingdom Fingerprint Bureau was established at Scotland Yard, using Edward Henry’s classification system; it worked way better than phrenology. Hubert Cecil Booth patented a dust removing suction cleaner and started offering mobile cleaning services; his vacuum was large enough to frighten horses (it was also drawn by horses. This sounds messy). Satori Kato introduced his vacuum-dried coffee granules – aka instant coffee – at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, NY. (Also where President McKinley was shot. Yikes.).
There was a bunch of art and culture: Beatrix Potter published the Tale of Peter Rabbit. Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche posthumously published her brother Friedrich’s The Will to Power. H.G. Wells got it close with The First Men in the Moon (would have nailed it with first man on the moon…). Anton Chekhov’s play “Three Sisters” premiered at the Moscow Art Theatre. Vincent Van Gogh had his first retrospective, in a gallery in Paris. Pablo Picasso had his first major exhibit, also in a gallery in Paris. Sergei Rachmaninoff composed Piano Concerto No. 2; Claude Debussy offered Pour le piano; and Edward Elgar started his Pomp and Circumstance series with Marches No. 1 and 2 ( graduation ceremonies had no idea what was coming for them). But Americans REALLY loved parlor ballads, ragtime, and marching band music; they still could not get enough of Sousa’s Band’s Stars and Stripes Forever.
Are sports art and culture? Let’s just call it sports: The Winnipeg Victorias edged out the Montreal Shamrocks to win the Stanley Cup. Fútbol Club Atlético River Plate was founded in Argentina. The American League was established and the Chicago White Stockings (adorable!) won the first AL pennant. The Pittsburg Pirates took the National League pennant.
The first Nobel Prizes were awarded in Stockholm to Wilhelm Röntgen (Physics), Jacobus Henricus van ‘t Hoff (Chemistry), Emil von Behring (Medicine), Sully Prudhomme (Literature), and jointly to Frédéric Passy and Jean Henry Dunant (Peace).
In other odds and ends: J.P. Morgan incorporated U.S. Steel as the first billion-dollar corporation. Mr. Walgreen opened the first Walgreens. The first successful loop-the-loop roller coaster opened on Coney Island (it was called the Loop-the-Loop). Connecticut set the first speed limit law (12 mph in cities; 15 mph on country roads) and forced cars to stop if they were scaring horses. Schoolteacher Annie Edson Taylor celebrated her 63rd birthday by going over Niagara Falls in a barrel and surviving, proving…something?
Immediately closer to home: fifteen young women graduated from Abbot Academy, and William Clarence Matthews graduated from Phillips Academy. No one knew it yet, but Matthews would go from leading the batting average on Harvard’s baseball team to playing on the Burlington, Vermont team of the Northern League, making him the only Black player in any white professional baseball league at the time. When he was barred from playing in the Major League he had to settle for being a lawyer instead, eventually getting appointed to the Justice Department by President Calvin Coolidge. Big mistake, MLB. Huge.
We are just over a month away from celebrating the founding anniversary of the Peabody Institute of Archaeology (originally known as the Department of Archaeology) at Phillips Academy Andover. This year marks a special milestone for the Peabody, being our 125th Anniversary, that’s quasquicentennial if you’re fancy!
This blog celebrates the founding history of the Peabody as captured by Phillips Academy’s student newspaper, The Phillipian, and acts as a “save the date” for more ways to celebrate with the Peabody throughout the year.
Department of Archaeology, 1906.
On Thursday, March 21, 1901, the Trustees of Phillips Academy established the Department of Archaeology at a meeting held in Boston. An anonymous donor and friend of the Academy, “provided a foundation sufficient for the erection of a suitable building, an endowment for instruction, research, and publication, together with a large collection.”
The inaugural officers of the Department of Archaeology were Dr. Cecil F.P. Bancroft (Principal of Phillips Academy), Charles Peabody (first Peabody Director), and Warren K. Moorehead (first Peabody Curator and Chief Executive Officer of the Archaeology Department).
In later years, the anonymous donor was recognized as Phillips Academy alumnus, Robert S. Peabody (Class of 1857), the namesake of our institution. Peabody’s passion for archaeology led him to create the archaeology program to encourage young students’ interest in archaeological sciences and to foster respect and appreciation for Native American culture. In addition, the institution would support archaeological research and serve as a place for students of Phillips Academy to gather.
The original name of the Peabody is still present above the building’s front entrance.
At the time (1901), this was the largest single gift to the Academy and included Peabody’s collection of nearly 40,000 items. It was not only rare but quite unusual for a preparatory school to have its own department of archaeology with international connections and a major collection.
The new archaeology department was officially dedicated on Wednesday, May 1, 1901. Warren K. Moorehead spoke at a campus chapel meeting describing upcoming construction for the department and that a new building would be located on the corner of Phillips and Main Streets, where the current institute resides today. “The collection is now in Philadelphia and will be brought here [Phillips Academy] within the next two weeks and placed in the old gymnasium until the new building is finished.” Students from the Archaeology class would meet in the old gymnasium (located in the Brick Academy – the gym incarnation of Bulfinch Hall) on Monday and Thursday afternoons to help Mr. Peabody and Mr. Moorehead unpack the collection. The class met there for weeks while the new building was under construction, the laboratory-style work giving a unique replacement to the typical lectures students attended in their daily classes.
Students unpack Robert S. Peabody’s collections in the school gymnasium, circa 1901. Lantern slide, from the photographic collections, Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology.
In the image above, students are unpacking from the very wooden drawers the Peabody used as housing for the collection, before it was replaced by more sustainable storage material in Phase 1 of the Peabody’s building project in 2023. If you look closely, you’ll see Mr. Moorehead standing in the background overseeing his students’ work!
The first lecture in Archaeology was given by Charles Peabody on October 14, 1901. Lectures were shared between Peabody and Warren K. Moorehead, most taking place in other buildings on campus such as the science building while the Department of Archaeology was under construction. In addition, Moorehead would take students participating in the archaeology class to various sites in the area – examining shell heaps in Ipswich, MA and an Indigenous village site along the Merrimack River near Lawrence, MA.
It is fascinating to see the parallels between current Peabody events and this moment in time – as of January 2026, the Peabody staff have moved out of the Peabody building to a temporary space across campus while the final Phase 2 of the Peabody’s building project begins. In addition, classes with the Peabody are (at present) being taught across other locations on campus during the building’s construction. With our Peabody Director, Ryan Wheeler, even teaching his Human Origins course in the science building as we saw Mr. Peabody and Mr. Moorehead doing about 125 years before!
By October 30, 1901, bids for the new Archaeological building were in and construction was to begin soon after. Guy Lowell was chosen to design the building – the Peabody being his first architectural commission for Phillips Academy. Guy Lowell would later design other buildings on campus such as the Isham Infirmary (1913), Memorial Bell Tower (1922), and Samuel Phillips Hall (1924). Lowell also played a part in the development of the campus “Vista”, the reorganization of the Great Quadrangle, and renovations to Bulfinch Hall (1902). The Boston architect was most renowned for his design of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and New York State Supreme Court Building.
“The main entrance is in the center, opening into a spacious hall wherein the largest specimens in the collection can be shown. On one side of this hall is to be a big exhibition room, with an alcove, and on the opposite side is a similar hall, behind which are the custodian’s office and private apartments, and a cataloguing room.
The building is two stories. The second floor is given over to a room, on one side of the main hall, to be used for lectures and entertainment, with a large platform provided for these purposes. This hall will seat 175 or 200 students. On the other side of the main hall is a large library and reading room and lounging place, with a stack room, which will make it possible to care for 15,000 volumes. The windows on the lower floor are arched at the top, while those of the second are what architects term square headed.
The basement of the building is commodious, but will not be finished at once, although the plan is to have eventually an assembly room, a grill room, various committee rooms for the athletic departments, offices for The Phillipian and Mirror, and possibly a small cooperative store for the benefit of the students.”
For more details about some of the Peabody’s earlier building features, check out my previous blogs here and here!
Peabody Building Plans, 1902
As the new building construction began to reach completion, the Peabody collections were growing from various donations across the country. The archaeology department staff stored the collection in various parts of campus such as the old gymnasium (Bulfinch Hall), the new gymnasium (Borden Gym), and the Administration building (which alone, stored about 30 different collections, totaling to about 4,000 items.)
By early February of 1903, the Peabody collection was officially moved into the new building. Briggs & Allyn, a company in Lawrence, MA built fifteen large museum exhibit cases modeled after the Peabody Harvard Museum to display some of the collections.
The Peabody during the Byers and Johnson era (1936 – 1968)
I did appreciate the Peabody staff’s honesty at the time expressing the difficulties of balancing the move into the building with their academic responsibilities, mentioning “it has been difficult for the officials of the department to conduct class work properly, and for students to understand the course, since all the specimens have been inaccessible… all will welcome the installation of the collections in their proper quarters.”
The formal opening of the new Department of Archaeology building was held on Saturday, March 28, 1903. The opening was celebrated with a reception including performances by the Mandolin and Banjo clubs as well as several speakers from the Academy and Archaeological field. Out of the various addresses by members of the Academy, two stood out – one, from Dr. Robert R. Bishop (on behalf of the Trustees of the Academy) who most gratefully accepted the gift of the new building on behalf of the Trustees, regretting only that “on account of the modesty of the donor, he was not permitted to make known their name.” This being the very donor that we now honor as the namesake of our institution.
Second, from Vice-Principal A.E. Stearns (on behalf of the Faculty of the Academy) who mentions a very significant fact – “that one hundred and twenty-five years ago the first class that ever graduated from Phillips Academy, met for its exercises on the very spot where the new archaeology building now stands.” I find these words timely as the Peabody looks forward to celebrating 125 years in that same spot next month.
In commemoration of our 125th the Peabody will be celebrating all year with upcoming activities, events, special communications, virtual opportunities to connect with our institution, and ways to support the Peabody and our future projects. There is so much more to come that we cannot wait to share with you! Stay tuned and follow us on our socials so you don’t miss out on the festivities!
Did you know that the building that houses the Peabody Institute was built between 1901 and 1903? Designed by well-known Boston architect Guy Lowell, the building was designed to be the home of the Phillips Academy Department of Archaeology. Over the past 120 years, the department has transitioned into the Peabody Institute.
As anyone who has lived in the same house for a long time can attest – it is really easy to accumulate stuff (both valuable items and less-than-helpful clutter). Like a well-loved home, the Peabody certainly had its fair share of stuff that needed to be sorted and rehomed before the current building project could get underway. The best stuff had been kept in the attic.
Attics always have a reputation (you know what I mean) and the Peabody’s attic is a special one. If you are over 5’6”, you better watch your head. The corners are as dark as you imagine. And yes, sometimes there are bats. However, there are also piles of old archaeological field equipment, a dumb-waiter, traveling trunks and some incredible pieces of institutional history that needed to be preserved before the building project.
Everything was lovingly wrapped in plastic – it wasn’t always pretty (you try wrapping a pickaxe!) – and clearly labeled for the future. Who knows what future Peabody staff will do with these items, but I am relieved that they will have the opportunity to engage with these echoes of history.
The Peabody 
#/media/File:1901_Kidder_Steam_Runabout.jpg){kind=link}