"I believe that although the motion picture may not live forever
as a work of art, except in a few instances it will be the most
efficient way of showing posterity how we live now."
                                                                  – Irving Thalberg

Like the contrast between a moonless night and a bright, sunny day, our second visit to "The Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio–Visual Conservation" near Culpeper, Virginia, couldn't have been more different from our first. During our first visit to the Packard Campus in October 2007, my assistant and I were shooed out of the building by a stern, determined woman who displayed a rather shocking lack of social skills. This misadventure became the basis for a short report which I posted on this website the following month. In response to that report Dr. Deanna Marcum, the Associate Director for Library Services at the Library of Congresss, sent me a gracious note apologizing for the way we had been treated by the Packard Campus' employee and inviting us to tour their facility near Culpeper whenever it was convenient. Almost exactly one year later, in September 2008, I was finally able to accept Dr. Marcum's generous offer and, with a song in my heart and a spring in my step, my assistant and I once again journeyed to the Packard Campus for Audio–Visual Conservation.

The audiovisual collection of The Library of Congress is one of the United States' greatest national treasures. Consisting of more than 6 million items, this ever–growing collection of historical moving images, recordings, and related documents is now being catalogued, preserved, restored, and converted to digital formats at the new Library of Congress Packard Campus for Audio–Visual Conservation. Until 2008 this collection had been scattered among a number of locations around the country. But thanks to a $155 million grant from the Packard Humanities Institute (headed by Dr. David W. Packard) and over $82 million in additional funding from the U.S. Congress, this new 415,000 square foot complex can now safely house the entire collection in one state–of–the–art location. (If you wish to read more about this complex please click on our link at the bottom of this page.)

Although the Packard Campus is largely underground, the imposing three–story, semicircular Conservation Building nestled into the west face of Mount Pony is clearly visible from Highway 522 as you drive past Culpeper. Surrounded by farmland and thousands of newly planted trees, the complex and its 45 acres of unkempt landscaping gives a visitor the initial, rather unsettling impression that it has been abandoned. But this impression is part of a carefully conceived plan to create a unique facility that will slowly become part of its natural surroundings. As the grass grows higher and the trees mature, the most visible building on the campus – the ivy-covered Conservation Building that so beautifully mixes classical aesthetics with contemporary functionality – will become an integral part of the hillside.

Our tour, which lasted almost four hours, far exceeded our expectations, and we had the additional good fortune to have Paul Spehr agree to join us. Paul is the retired Assistant Chief of the Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division of the Library of Congress, and the author of a wonderful new biography of the man who was in charge of Thomas Edison's project to invent a practical motion picture camera. (See: "The Man Who Made Movies: W.K.L. Dickson".) Paul's recollections and insights into how things were done in the past provided a valuable sense of continuity and progress.

As soon as we arrived we were warmly greeted by Dr. Marcum and Mike Mashon (Chief of the Moving Image Section) who began our tour by showing us the Mount Pony Theater just off the lobby. This enchanting 206–seat, art deco theater is the venue for the facility's public programs where restored prints of vintage movies are now shown for free on a regular basis. (Click on "SCHEDULE" for a list of screenings. Advance reservations are strongly suggested.)

After our swing through the theater we entered the spacious, pleasantly lit office area of the Moving Image Section that had been clearly designed for both comfort and ease of communication. Unlike most government office areas I'd seen, everything from the chairs to the lighting fixtures to the rich, polished wood of the office partitions seemed to have been selected for their aesthetic as well as their ergonomic superiority. It was here that we were introduced to Larry Smith, the Packard Campus' Nitrate Film Specialist.

Larry, who became our guide for the rest of the tour, was both personable and engaging, and we immediately knew that he was particularly interested in the old Cinerama widescreen process because the graphic on his shirt said so. He, along with everyone we met during our tour, was not only extremely knowledgeable about the general history of motion pictures and the films themselves, but was brimming over with enthusiasm for, and commitment to the goals of The Library of Congress Packard Campus. It was very clear that he and the rest of the staff deeply loved the old movies, recordings, and other material that had been placed in their care, and that the daily exposure to these precious items had not jaded either their excitement or their sense of responsiblilty.

As we made our way through the labyrinth of the Packard Campus' buildings, we eventually came to the underground nitrate film vaults. (To read our article on Nitrate Film go to "Nitrate Film – A Major Problem in Movie Restoration".) Until 1951 all commercial movies used nitrocellulose (nitrate) film which produced a wide tonal range and was valued for the rich luminous, high-contrast black and white quality of the resulting image. It is said that nitrate film produces a "shimmering visual beauty" lost in even the best new copies. Under the right conditions, it can also have a long useful life, as demonstrated by such surviving examples as the original negative for the 1903 movie "The Great Train Robbery" which is stored in these very vaults. However, it is also a very dangerous material.

When new, nitrate film can be ignited with the heat of a cigarette. Partially decomposed, it can ignite spontaneously at temperatures as low as 120°F (49°C). Nitrate film burns rapidly, fueled by its own oxygen, and releases toxic fumes.

During our tour we were shown video of tests conducted in the 1940s to determine the best technique for containing or managing a nitrate film fire. In the video we watched burning reels of nitrate film shoot volcanic eruptions of flame through various film vault designs. It was chilling to see how ferocious the conflagration was, and how quickly it developed. Another video, filmed in Austria in 1976, showed firefighters trying to find an effective way to put out a nitrate film fire. The firefighters submerged the burning film in water, covered it with foam (including the foam used to douse airplane fuel fires), and even put the burning reels of film in airtight containers. Because the burning film created its own oxygen, nothing they tried could extinguish the intense blaze. (However, according to a 1958 Kodak publication a properly installed deluge sprinkler system is effective in putting out a nitrate film fire.)

Since nitrate film poses such a potential hazard if not stored correctly, the tens of thousands of reels of nitrate film at the Packard Campus are kept underground in 124 specially designed, blast–proof vaults at 30°F. Insulated cubby–hole shelving is used for storing the reels of film, and a deluge sprinkler system has been installed in each vault. Periodically each reel is carefully checked for any sign of deterioration. As luck would have it the original camera negative for Disney's animated feature "Sleeping Beauty" was being examined in a room next to the vaults when we were there. When I asked Irwin Rosenfeld, the nitrate film specialist conducting the examination, what else he was inspecting that day, he pulled a film canister from a cart and asked if we would like to see the original camera negative for the 1931 classic movie, "Frankenstein". We were thrilled. Holding the reel of film up to the light we could see where the splices had been made when the final cut of the movie was being assembled.

Another highlight came when we visited Brad McCoy, a senior audio engineer in the Recorded Sound Section. Sitting in an acoustically perfect, soundproof audio room behind a sweeping console covered in switches, meters and computer screens, Brad cleans, electronically restores, and converts to a digital format the recordings in the Packard Campus' collection. Many of their historical recordings are one–of–a–kind and have never been heard since they were first made. It is the ultimate goal of The Library of Congress to make all of their recordings (and motion pictures, for that matter) readily available to the public in a digital format. During our visit Brad was working on a "field recording" (a recording made outside of a studio) from the 1950s that had never been released. Although the grooves of this master vinyl disk had been cut from the inside going out, instead of the usual method of moving the stylus from the outside and going toward the center, Brad's equipment had no trouble playing it properly. After we listened to this novel recording he played an audio tape (which also has never been released) of a Dave Brubeck concert from the 1950s. The sound from those recordings, played through the room's $20,000 custom speakers, was so clear and vibrant that it sent shivers down our spines.

Along the way we were shown many laboratories containing intricate machines and electronic devices that day-in and day-out, seven days a week, automatically (or with a minimum of human intervention) reproduce, restore, and digitize the many different formats of recorded material in the Packard Campus' collection. But each day hundreds of new items are received or, in the case of radio, television, and the Internet, are captured and added to the collection. The task of preserving this material is tedious, time–consuming, and never–ending, but because of the continuing foresight and commitment of the staff at the Library of Congress, and Congress itself, the many remaining components that make up our moving image, broadcasting, and recorded sound legacy – the visual and aural chronicle of our constantly changing way of life – will be available for future generations.

My assistant and I would like to express our gratitude to Dr. Deanna Marcum, Mike Mashon, Larry Smith, and the motivated, energetic staff at the Packard Campus for their warm, considerate hospitality and amiable courtesy. The opportunity to see what goes on in one of our nation's greatest archives was both instructional and inspiring.

<< return to PART 1 of our article about the Packard Campus

<< return to PART 2