Sometimes, when we open a messy box, an item emerges which leaves everyone puzzled. One such object was recently discovered at the bottom of a particularly chaotic container.

Out of this box came a hefty envelope addressed to Leeds Gulick, Luther’s brother. The contents of the envelope was a mysterious white powder, which was quickly isolated.

Our guess is that it is either salt or sugar that dates back to the late 1920s or early 1930s. We hope to test the powder sometime in the future to confirm our hypothesis.

Luther Gulick was born and spent a large part of his youth in Japan, an experience that helped mold his character and would serve him well later on in life.

A short-tempered child, Gulick began to change when he was taken under the wing of the grandfather of the family’s maid. The man used to be a retainer of the local Shogun when Japan was still a closed society; as Gulick recounted:

“… he showed me his old ceremonial sword. He said a good retainer was brave, able to ignore pain, and never lost his temper because that was not only a sign of weakness but handicapped a man in meeting any challenge. These Zen virtues, and his tales of old Japan, made a great impression on me.”

A lack of suitable schools left Gulick to be privately tutored;  however, the boy had great difficulty at first, until it was discovered that he could not see properly. At the age of eight, Luther was sent to Tokyo for an eye exam and to acquire his first set of eyeglasses; eye problems would be a recurring factor for much of his life. While in Tokyo, Gulick took the opportunity to pick-up his first bicycle, proudly reporting that he was able to ride through Tokyo’s traffic — which at the turn of the 20th century consisted of rickshaws, oxcarts, and pedestrians — with “only one spill.”

Fluent in English,  Japanese, and later German, Gulick was sometimes called on to act as an interpreter for visiting westerners. In one case he recalled acting as a translator for the writer Jack London:

“My first exposure to Western prudery came when I managed persuade the managers of the Dogo Hot Springs to let Jack London use the most sacred bathing pool for his bath. As he lolled in the translucent and steaming water, in came a maid with tea service. Such a panic and scramble for cover. ”

Gulick’s fluency allowed him access to areas where other foreigners living in Japan normally did not have permission to enter. In one case Gulick was able to walk into a Russian prisoner of war camp where POWs of the Russo-Japanese War were kept. Becoming friendly with the Russian officers confined there, Gulick promised to mail their letters for them, much to the horror of Sidney Gulick, Luther’s father, who had the correspondence burned.

In 1904 Gulick’s father was offered the position of professor at Doshisha Theological Seminary. He accepted with the stipulation that he be allowed to engage in studies for two years in Europe and the United States, taking Luther and the entire family with him. While many were sad to see the elder Gulick leave, his son’s hijinks were less missed. One of the missionaries working with his father was purported to remark: “Yes, Dr. Gulick’s departure will be a great loss to the Mission. But after all, he will take Luther with him.”

Luther Gulick would eventually return to the land of his birth but it was to be a defeated, broken Japan. Gulick will be among those working to try and rebuild that nation, but that is a story for another post.

Peter Johnson Gulick, Luther’s great-grandfather, was the first person of the Gulick clan to embrace missionary work. Born in 1797 in New Jersey, Peter experienced a religious awakening as a young man, deciding to become a Presbyterian minister. Entering the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University), he was befriended by a professor named Luther Halsey whose name would be passed on through generations of future Gulicks. During Peter Gulick’s last year at the seminary, in 1827, a returning missionary spoke of the importance of overseas work, leading the young graduate to apply to the recently established American Missionary Board for a position. The Board assigned him to Hawaii, then known as Sandwich Islands, where Peter spent the rest of his career. Of his seven surviving children, six boys and one girl, all became missionaries.

The eldest son, Luther Halsey Gulick, grandfather of our Luther, received an M.D. from the New York College of Medicine in 1850, becoming a medical missionary. Proselytizing in Micronesia, the family was forced to leave due to the difficulty of the living conditions. On the way back to Hawaii they had their first son, Sidney Gulick, the future father of Luther Gulick.

Sidney Gulick intended to become a professor of astronomy, attending Dartmouth College, but after the small school he was supposed to teach in went bankrupt, he became a pastor in New York City. When he found the work unfulfilling, Sidney became a missionary, moving to Japan in late 1887 or early 1888. Influenced by his education, Sidney Gulick espoused a liberal philosophy when it came to religion, believing that it was possible to be both a scientist and a Christian. This led him to try to reconcile evolution with religion. As a result of this work, the local mission board attempted to try Gulick for heresy and have him excommunicated. However, the main governing body, based in Boston, intervened and the case was dropped. Sidney was not the first Gulick to voice support for the theory of evolution. John Gulick, his uncle, was a friend of Charles Darwin and went on to publish a book on evolution where he refuted religious objections to the scientific concept.

Sidney Gulick had four children while in Japan. The first, Susan, was born in 1888, followed by Luther, on January 17, 1892. Another son, Leeds, and daughter, Ethel, rounded out the family.

In the late 1990s, when the Institute of Public Administration sold its building at 55 West 44th Street, a large portion of their papers was transferred to a storage facility deep in the hinterlands of Queens. A few years later, the rest of the collection was moved to the same location where it resided for over a decade. Before the processing part of the project could begin, the collection had to be transferred to the Baruch College Archives and surveyed.

Over the course of two weeks, the entire collection was moved to Baruch and placed in a previously designated location. Next, in order to keep track of the contents of the collection, as well as to document the various issues encounter during the survey process, the project archivist created a Microsoft Access database that was to be used in the creation of a processing plan – a set of instructions on how the collection was to be organized in order to make it usable to researchers.

Over the following month, each and every box in the collection was opened, the general contents of each described in the database. Some of the boxes were neatly organized with each folder clearly labeled while others were completely disorganized. Right away a number of problems were discovered that called for immediate action. At some point in the past, part of the collection was exposed to water and left untreated, leading to mold growth and general water damage. To prevent the mold from spreading to unaffected items or impacting the health of persons coming in contact with the collection, items showing mold damage were separated and quarantined for the time being.

Some of the more mundane problems discovered in the collection were rolled up items, including photographs, that will need to be flattened, dust covered items that will need to be cleaned, and broken glass that fused to photographs. How these problems will be handled will be addressed later on in this blog.

Four weeks after beginning the surveying process, we were ready to embark on the next step.