Last month, while writing about a turn-of-the century Detroit woman painter, I became intrigued by several other unknown women, a tightly woven circle of historians, friends, and librarians, connected by their common interests. For more than twenty-five years, one of these women, Gracie Brainerd Krum, had the title of "Chief" of Detroit's history.
When I wrote about the painter, I was lucky to find that she and all her relatives were prolific letter writers, from prominent families. Troves of letters had been saved, full of detail, with no thought of whether they would be reread by strangers.
Writing about these women who are librarians and historians seems different. In reviewing their papers, one senses they've already edited what's left behind in the dusty boxes. They have chosen what they want remembered, without thinking of themselves as an important part of the story. For them, I wade through sheaves of official correspondence, intricate genealogies, and painstaking copies they made of other people's lives, but their quirks, their sense of humor, their uniqueness... they hover in the shadows. This makes the personal papers Gracie B. Krum saved especially poignant.
One the greatest assets of the Detroit Public Library is its Burton Historical Collection. Gracie grew up in the shadow of the Burton Historical Collection. From 1897 till 1905, she lived at 25 Brainard Street, next door to Clarence M. Burton, businessman and famed collector of manuscripts and documents relating to early Detroit. He would go on to write a history of Detroit that is an indispensable starting point for any researcher. Long before the stately, monumental Detroit Public Library that we know today was built in the new cultural center, Burton had a fire-proof room built in his home on Brainard to protect his collection. His daughter, Mary Agnes, the less known historian in the family, worked night and day editing all of her father's works, and writing books and articles on her own. Mary Agnes was just about the same age as Gracie.
In the photo above, Gracie is 23 years old. Her family had just moved to Detroit from New York the previous year. Her father founded what would become the Detroit Rubber Company, wholesalers of new-fangled rubber footwear. He is standing at the foot of the porch, to our left. Her grandfather is on the right, and her mother is on the porch in front of the window.
The little girls are her sister Elsie, and and a girl named Juliet (next to the sled). It is February 22, 1898.
After this photo, Gracie taught in the Detroit Public Schools, became a librarian at the DPL, began to assist Mr. Burton and Mary Agnes with their collection, and then, from 1916 till 1941, was in charge of the Burton Historical Collection in its new home at the grand building on Woodward.
But Gracie's accomplished future awaits. Today, the Krum family has just recently enjoyed their first Christmas in Detroit. Elsie wrote a letter to Santa.
As I was opening the letter from Santa, a slip of paper slid out and landed to the side. After reading the letter, I turned over the slip of paper.
I do not know how she died. Gracie's papers say no more on the subject, but I still have Alburn and Ethalind's papers to read.
Next week, Gracie becomes a librarian, and the other Burton historian.
Photo and documents, Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library.
Other resources:
Parnassus on Main Street, a history of the Detroit Public Library, by Frank B. Woodford, Wayne State University Press, 1965
