Seeing the past in Clover’s photograph albums is—as the past often is—utterly strange and deeply familiar. I would never have been able to make sense of what I saw or to tell Clover’s story without the guidance and friendship of many people who helped me find my way.
There’s no better place to do archival work than at the Massachusetts Historical Society, which generously gave me support with two summer research grants. Over the years, Peter Drummey, Conrad Wright, Brenda Lawson, Ondine Le Blanc, Anna Cook, and Elaine Grublin have answered my many questions and taught me how to navigate the archives. I’m proud to be an MHS Fellow. Research for this book was also funded by a Schlesinger Library research grant and a National Endowment for the Humanities Long-Term Fellowship. Hope College provided numerous summer research grants as well as several leaves of absence, for which I’m very grateful. For all their assistance, I want to thank Lucy Loomis at the Sturgis Library in Barnstable, Massachusetts, and Hope Mayo, Caroline Duroselle-Melish, and Emily Walhout at Harvard’s Houghton Library. Mary Clare Altenhofen at Harvard’s Fine Arts Library at the Fogg Museum gathered a stack of nineteenth-century exhibition catalogs for me to look through, sources that proved especially useful. My research was also aided by materials at the New York Historical Society, the Beverly Historical Society, the Boston Public Library, and the Library of Congress. For permission to quote from their manuscript collections, I am grateful to the Massachusetts Historical Society, the Sophia Smith Collection at Smith College, the Sturgis Library, the Countway Library of Medicine at Harvard University, and the Boston Public Library.
I’m indebted to Kathleen Lawrence for her generous insights into the Sturgis family, to Nancy Scott for her acumen about art, and to Robert D. Richardson for a brief exchange that guided me in writing about families. Clifford M. Nelson kindly spent an afternoon walking with me through Clover and Henry’s neighborhood in Washington, D.C., teaching me its history, and Wanda Corn spent another afternoon talking with me about photography and fine art painting. For reading early drafts of chapters, I’d like to thank Sharon O’Brien, Melissa Banta, Sarah Chace, and Carol Bundy. Helen Sheumaker encouraged me in my early curiosity about Clover, and Leslie Tuttle responded to a penultimate draft of the manuscript in a way that made finishing it seem a possibility. John Hanson helped me see Clover’s photographs anew, and Jeanne Petit read every version of the story from early grant proposals to final drafts—a steadying friendship. Shawn Michelle Smith early on told me I should write this book, and Megan Marshall did a great deal to make that happen. I owe her more than I can say. Harrison Smithwick and his mother, Frances, gave me a tour of Clover and Henry’s Beverly Farms home, and I give a special thank-you to a descendant of one of Clover’s nieces, who entrusted me with private papers and her family’s history.
Eric Sandeen told me to write stories twenty years ago; Lewis Dabney showed me the world of biography writing; Ann Schofield introduced me to women’s history; and Barry Shank taught me to pay attention to what moved my heart—great teachers all. I have many colleagues at Hope College to thank, in particular Peter Schakel, David Klooster, John Cox, Kathleen Verduin, Stephen Hemenway, Jacqueline Bartley, Elizabeth Trembley, Heather Sellers, Sarah Baar, Curtis and Lezlie Gruenler, Jeff Tyler, Jane Currie, Fred Johnson, Janis Gibbs, Julia Randel, William Reynolds, Lannette Zylman-TenHave, and the late Jennifer Young Tait. William Pannapacker early on sold me his six-volume collection of Henry Adams’s published letters, saying, “You’ll need these more than I do.” James Boelkins kept the faith that I could do this and provided generous support, and Priscilla Atkins responded with humor and skill to countless research questions. I’ve been very fortunate to have had a cadre of student assistants to whom I’m very grateful, most especially Rebecca Fry, Paxton Wiers, Gray Emerson, and Matt Vermaire; several former students have become dear friends, in particular Dana VanderLugt and Kate Paarlberg.
I’m enormously grateful to all those at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for their rousing support for this book. Deanne Urmy’s exquisite taste as an editor and her tough-minded encouragement made my work with her a joy and an education. She sharpened every page. Her assistant, Nicole Angeloro, answered my queries with remarkable speed. I’m indebted to Patrick Barry for a beautiful cover, to Susanna Brougham for her manuscript editing prowess, and to Larry Cooper, Megan Wilson, and Ayesha Mirza for their innumerable skills.
I’m more grateful than I can say to many friends, in particular Paul Karsten and Julia de Jonge, Nadine Requardt, Uta Walter, Jack and Julie Ridl, and Dick and Ruth Stravers, who have blessed my life with conversation, kindness, and a shelter from the storm. The Dutch Masters Swim Team reminded me to keep moving through the water, no matter what. Many thanks also to Jonathan Earle, Cotton Seiler, Norman Yetman, David Katzman, Kimberly Hamlin, Marni Sandweiss, Cynthia Mills, Jean Veenema-Birky, Anna Raphael, Del and Sally Michel, Jack and Lois Lamb, Wilson and Chris Lowry, Tim Gerhold, and Annie Thompson.
My father, Loren Dykstra, filled our home with music, and to this day, I never write without a tune playing in the background. My brother Greg Dykstra and his wife, Sabina, many times gave wise counsel, and my brother Stuart Dykstra insisted I not waste time. My sister-in-law Ellen Dykstra picked up her camera in the same years I started writing a book about another woman picking up her camera—our many conversations about picture-taking have guided my thoughts, and I thank her for her friendship and my author photograph. To my sister Ellen Stahl, her husband, Don, as well as my many nieces and nephews, I’m grateful for their forbearance and good humor. I want to thank my nephew Benjamin Dykstra, who saved my computer from destruction, and my niece Sarah Dykstra, whose wit always brings light. Carol Bundy invited me into her Boston world when I needed her invitation and insight most, and Mary Bundy, Tom George, Chris Bundy, and the rest of the family kindly welcomed me into the fold as the family’s newest member.
My husband, Michael Bundy, always believed I could write this book, made many nuanced suggestions, and never once complained, though he’s not known me or married life without it. His gentleness, confidence in the future, and abiding love have changed my life.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my mom, Harriett M. Dykstra, whose fierce love is with us still. She loved books almost as much as she loved her children. I owe to her much that is good in my life, including a fascination with stories of the past.