Harvard-Yale
The ultimate college rivalry: invertebrate zoology edition.
Harvard and Yale's invertebrate zoology collections are, unsurprisingly, tied together with a history that goes all the way back to the beginning of their collections. At a glance, the two have several differences ranging from collection organization to particular specimens, but both are united by the eras that they were born in and individuals involved since then.
The strongest connection between Harvard and Yale's IZ collections is through zoologist Addison E. Verrill. His specimens, especially coral, are prevalent in both museum collections. Within minutes of touring Harvard's IZ collections, we came across a pair of specimens collected by Verrill: one listed as from Outer Island in 1926, the other from New Haven Harbor in 1886.
Verrill was an undergraduate at Harvard, graduating from the Lawrence Scientific School in 1862. His professor, adviser, teacher, and eventual colleague was Louis Agassiz, professor of zoology and geology at Harvard and founder of MCZ. Agassiz appointed Verrill as his assistant in MCZ and requested him to work on corals (Verrill actually an interest in birds prior to arriving at Harvard, and perhaps he wanted to study them if Agassiz had given him a choice, says to Adam Baldinger, current curatorial associate of Harvard's IZ collections at MCZ). After graduation, Verrill divided his time between working at MCZ during the day and studying or writing about scientific subjects during the evening.
Agassiz had a habit of taking credit for his students' work, including Verrill's. Story has it that Verrill got angry at Agassiz and left for Yale, where he became the first professor of zoology at age twenty-five and remained for forty-three years until his retirement in 1907. The split in Verrill's legacy may seem like a break-off point from Harvard, but his legacy remains strong at both museums.
In learning about the relationship between Harvard and Yale—its similarities, differences, the issues they reinforce as historical institutions of privilege—the relationships that really stood out to me were ones within the small community of people involved at both places. Penny, the person who showed us around the collections, volunteered at the Peabody Museum for five years before coming to MCZ, where she has worked for ten years now. "I love Boston and MCZ, and the people are great at the Peabody." she said and winked. "Don't tell anyone I said that." Harvard's sprawling collections span their natural history museum, MCZ, and another building for associated labs, versus the Peabody's collections, which are centralized in one building—perhaps that contributes to the tighter sense of community that Penny felt at Yale. Casey Dunn—the current curator of Yale's IZ collections—is good colleagues with Gonzalo. They've traveled the world together in all the different environments their field work has taken them. Eric and Adam go even further back. Not only do they double as IZ collections managers of two of the biggest university natural history museums of the northeast, they also went to the same college for undergrad: Eastern Connecticut State University (though they did not overlap as students—Eric was already at the Peabody when Adam started at ECSU in 1984). "We had the same senior adviser." said Adam, chuckling. Community is central to the operation and impact of the collections at Harvard and Yale—a powerful force that will hopefully continue to strive for accessibility to those both far and near.
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| Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology; part of Harvard Natural History Museum (harvard.mcz.edu) |
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| Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History (peabody.yale.edu) |
The strongest connection between Harvard and Yale's IZ collections is through zoologist Addison E. Verrill. His specimens, especially coral, are prevalent in both museum collections. Within minutes of touring Harvard's IZ collections, we came across a pair of specimens collected by Verrill: one listed as from Outer Island in 1926, the other from New Haven Harbor in 1886.
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| Two of many specimens collected by Verrill at MCZ (note: these specimens have yet to be updated with current labels, thus haven't been added to the database yet) |
Verrill was an undergraduate at Harvard, graduating from the Lawrence Scientific School in 1862. His professor, adviser, teacher, and eventual colleague was Louis Agassiz, professor of zoology and geology at Harvard and founder of MCZ. Agassiz appointed Verrill as his assistant in MCZ and requested him to work on corals (Verrill actually an interest in birds prior to arriving at Harvard, and perhaps he wanted to study them if Agassiz had given him a choice, says to Adam Baldinger, current curatorial associate of Harvard's IZ collections at MCZ). After graduation, Verrill divided his time between working at MCZ during the day and studying or writing about scientific subjects during the evening.
The expanse of Verrill's work is evident in almost every aisle we walked through in the collections. It never took long to come across a specimen—ranging from thin micro-slides in plastic pillbox cases, to large dry corals covered by clear plastic bags—labeled with his characteristic cursive handwriting.
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| Arianna (other sci-comm IZ intern at Yale) among dry corals, many of which were identified by Verrill |
Agassiz had a habit of taking credit for his students' work, including Verrill's. Story has it that Verrill got angry at Agassiz and left for Yale, where he became the first professor of zoology at age twenty-five and remained for forty-three years until his retirement in 1907. The split in Verrill's legacy may seem like a break-off point from Harvard, but his legacy remains strong at both museums.
On the other hand, some of the most notable differences between Harvard and Yale's collections can similarly be attributed to certain individuals. Yale's extensive sponge collections stems from sponges being the primary research interest of Willard Hartman, curator of IZ from 1953 to 1987. Crustaceans are the specialty of Eric (Lazo-Wasem, the curator now), which echo in the collections holdings abundant in that taxon of arthropods. Harvard has an entirely separate division for malacology, the study of mollusks, largely because of two key figures: J.G. Anthony, late nineteenth century curator who made many purchases and exchanges for type-specimens, and William D. Clench, curator from 1926-1966, who was also a prolific researcher and collector. Arachnids don't seem as odd of a part of Harvard's IZ collections knowing the context of Herbert W. Levi, IZ curator from the late 1950s-mid1980s. Spiders are also generally fluid specimens (best for preserving genitalia, the most useful character for spider species identification), so it's practical to store fluid specimens together for storage efficiency and safety. Giribet Gonzalo, the current curator, specializes in Pholbidae (daddy long-legs). The specimens he collects on trips are also stored in the IZ collections.
Outside of IZ, Harvard is also unique for its cryogenic collections. The basement room houses four liquid nitrogen-cooled steel cryovats—housing up to 40,000 specimens each—that contain tissue samples for DNA and RNA extraction. Frozen storage isn't a completely new technique in collections. Whole specimens are commonly frozen before prepared for dry collections, and evolutionary research that utilizes genetic material relies on freezers to house samples. Gonzalo showed us several freezers filled with shelves of sherbet-colored containers with DNA samples that his lab uses. The storage capability that the cryogenic collections offers though is at considerably colder temperatures—one of the cryovats I glanced was set at -177°C—that enables longer-term opportunities for genetic research and centralizes specimens from across MCZ.
Outside of IZ, Harvard is also unique for its cryogenic collections. The basement room houses four liquid nitrogen-cooled steel cryovats—housing up to 40,000 specimens each—that contain tissue samples for DNA and RNA extraction. Frozen storage isn't a completely new technique in collections. Whole specimens are commonly frozen before prepared for dry collections, and evolutionary research that utilizes genetic material relies on freezers to house samples. Gonzalo showed us several freezers filled with shelves of sherbet-colored containers with DNA samples that his lab uses. The storage capability that the cryogenic collections offers though is at considerably colder temperatures—one of the cryovats I glanced was set at -177°C—that enables longer-term opportunities for genetic research and centralizes specimens from across MCZ.
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| Combined research-work space of malacology collections |
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| A freezer at Gonzalo's lab |
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| Cryogenic collections room |
As many differences that develop over time between institutions, the history of exchange provides more lines of commonality. Historic expeditions, particularly from the nineteenth century, often prioritized Yale and Harvard, along with the Smithsonian, as places for specimens to be eventually housed. There are also practical reasons for specimens to be distributed between different museums. Among the devastation of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 was the loss of hundreds of thousands of specimens at the Field Museum. An even more recent example is the fire that took Brazil's National Museum last fall—an event that'd be equivalent to the Smithsonian burning down in the U.S. Exchange of material helps ensure specimen safety and accessibility at various institutions.
But another question raised is, who can participate in the exchange? The big three—Harvard, Yale, and Smithsonian—are obviously concentrated in their holdings relative to the vast majority of natural history museums in the country and world. On one hand, having the specimens concentrated in a few key locations enables time and money to be saved for researchers who might need a variety of specimens. But it's inherently less accessible to the places that specimens come from. Sure there won't be many horseshoe crabs in the Peabody Museum—they're abundant in the region and easily acquirable. But does that justify taking specimens from completely different places where they're slightly less rare? How are the benefits of acquisition actually distributed between the place it's from and where it ends up in a museum?
But another question raised is, who can participate in the exchange? The big three—Harvard, Yale, and Smithsonian—are obviously concentrated in their holdings relative to the vast majority of natural history museums in the country and world. On one hand, having the specimens concentrated in a few key locations enables time and money to be saved for researchers who might need a variety of specimens. But it's inherently less accessible to the places that specimens come from. Sure there won't be many horseshoe crabs in the Peabody Museum—they're abundant in the region and easily acquirable. But does that justify taking specimens from completely different places where they're slightly less rare? How are the benefits of acquisition actually distributed between the place it's from and where it ends up in a museum?
In learning about the relationship between Harvard and Yale—its similarities, differences, the issues they reinforce as historical institutions of privilege—the relationships that really stood out to me were ones within the small community of people involved at both places. Penny, the person who showed us around the collections, volunteered at the Peabody Museum for five years before coming to MCZ, where she has worked for ten years now. "I love Boston and MCZ, and the people are great at the Peabody." she said and winked. "Don't tell anyone I said that." Harvard's sprawling collections span their natural history museum, MCZ, and another building for associated labs, versus the Peabody's collections, which are centralized in one building—perhaps that contributes to the tighter sense of community that Penny felt at Yale. Casey Dunn—the current curator of Yale's IZ collections—is good colleagues with Gonzalo. They've traveled the world together in all the different environments their field work has taken them. Eric and Adam go even further back. Not only do they double as IZ collections managers of two of the biggest university natural history museums of the northeast, they also went to the same college for undergrad: Eastern Connecticut State University (though they did not overlap as students—Eric was already at the Peabody when Adam started at ECSU in 1984). "We had the same senior adviser." said Adam, chuckling. Community is central to the operation and impact of the collections at Harvard and Yale—a powerful force that will hopefully continue to strive for accessibility to those both far and near.
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