Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

I talk a lot about research. There’s a lot of research involved in local history, and I write about the end results a lot. Often, I’ll talk about how I found something out, and the process behind it. Okay, sometimes I just get lucky and stumble on stuff, but I know how to research, too.

But there’s another aspect to local history that I don’t write about as much. Sometimes, it involves preservation, too. Those old documents and photographs don’t preserve themselves, so it’s up to the professionals to work on that. Now, I’m not saying you have to run out and do this stuff to every takeout menu in your house, but it’s at least a good insight into how this works. I thought I’d write about it because A- It’s interesting information, and B- I’m stuck for a column.

The first thing to know is that old paper tends to be made with a certain amount of acid. This means that as soon as it’s made, the clock is ticking. Paper will deteriorate over time—Could take centuries, but it’ll go bad. The trick is to slow that down.

Preservation requires counteracting the acid by, first, not adding any. Any pens, pencils, envelopes, or folders should be made without acid. Museum curators look for the words “Archival,” “museum quality,” or “acid free” when they buy supplies. There are differences between these three terms, but it’s not worth going into just for the sake of a column. Interestingly, Crayola has begun making their colored pencils acid-free, so children are on safe ground there.

Avoid staples, paper clips, and post-its. Metal on paper can lead to rust stains and deterioration—You see this a lot on things like old meeting minutes, which were stapled at a time they weren’t expected to be historic. And post-its have acid, which can eat away at paper. Post-its are especially deadly to blueprints for some reason.

If you get a curled paper—Something that’s been rolled up for years—you can straighten it out. I remember when I was taught this by the woman who trained me. Her name was Katherine. We needed to flatten a paper, and I was expecting to see some sort of specialized museum technique. “Put something heavy on it,” Katherine said.

For things that are especially delicate or old, avoid touching it at all. Museum curators wear white gloves to handle some documents, so their skin oils don’t damage the document. It’s one of those things where once doesn’t look like it will hurt, but over and over again for a hundred years definitely will.

Under some circumstances, mylar is helpful. Mylar is a clear type of plastic that can be made into a sort of packet, protecting the document. When you pick it up, you’re touching the mylar, not the document. Now, I was trained to use mylar, but I’ve heard people complain about it. Here’s the fact: Mylar is best when the environment is climate-controlled. In a place where the temperature and humidity can be controlled, mylar is safe to use. In an old house with a rickety furnace, it can work against you. To account for this possibility, when you put the mylar on your document, don’t seal it to be airtight—Always leave an inch or so open on the edge for a little bit of air flow.

Want to know something neat? You can clean old artworks with bread. I’ve done it. Get a loaf of sourdough or something heavy, and rub it gently on the artwork. The bread will remove dust and dirt. Granted, you look like an insane person rubbing bread on a painting, but the end result is worth it.

It’s not just about the research, but about preservation, as well. On a practical level, I’m not sure how helpful this information is to the average person. But if you’ve read this far, now you’ve learned something and you’re stuck with it.