Monthly Archive for February, 2010

Page 2 of 2

Old battery reveals its secrets

Collection, Powerhouse Museum

Have you ever chopped up a battery to see what’s inside? I certainly did as a child (but please note this can be a dangerous activity). Years later I was delighted to find this carefully sectioned 1920s Columbia Ignitor on a shelf in the Powerhouse basement.

Collection, Powerhouse Museum

I thoroughly enjoyed researching this wonderful didactic object. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I find its multiple shapes, layers, colours and textures visually pleasing. And it took me on an interesting journey into the worlds of chemistry, materials, invention (by Leclanché), commercialisation (by Gassner), brand names, iconography, technological history and the social impacts of technology.

We all know that technology transformed daily life in the twentieth century, and that batteries were crucial for the move to portable devices. Batteries themselves have been progressively reduced in size. At 160 mm tall, this one would be useless for powering an iPod or Xbox, but it was well suited as an ignition source for two transformative technologies: the motor car and the landline telephone.

Collection, Powerhouse Museum.

These initial applications explain the name Ignitor, but what are the origins of Columbia and the National Carbon Company? I was surprised to learn that Columbia is a feminised version of Columbus – today this seems a strange way to commemorate such a man, but the name was coined in a more poetic, less prosaic, age.

On the other hand, I wasn’t surprised to discover that the National Carbon Company (later to become part of Eveready, which morphed into Energizer) started out as a supplier of carbon rods for arc lamps, the first form of electric lighting.

Note the fluted form of the carbon rod at the centre of the battery. Fluted carbon rods were first used to maintain constant timing of the light pulses produced by lighthouse arc lamps despite changes in current and voltage (which had to be increased to produce brighter light in poor weather). As this timing ‘signature’ is used by mariners to identify individual lighthouses, the introduction of the fluted rod was an important safety measure. In the battery, fluting serves to increase the surface area of the electron-collecting rod – that is, in comparison to a plain cylindrical rod such as the one in the battery I investigated as a youngster.

Samoan War Photographs 1899

U.S. Marines with naval gun, Upolu, Samoa, 1899, published by Kerry and Co.

U.S. Marines with naval gun, Upolu, Samoa, 1899, published by Kerry and Co.

Here, then, is a singular state of affairs: all the money, luxury, and business of the kingdom centred in one place; that place excepted from the native government and administered by whites for whites; and the whites themselves holding it not in common but in hostile camps, so that it lies between them like a bone between two dogs, each growling, each clutching his own end. Robert Louis Stevenson 1892

The above quote taken from Stevenson’s insightful, and surprisingly humorous, account of the war which erupted at Apia in Samoa is proof even great writing can fail to turn the tide of war. In this 1889 encounter peace was only reached after nature herself intervened in the form of a hurricane. Playing no favourites it sank and damaged all but one of the American, German and British ships confronting each other in Apia harbour.

Unfortunately Stevenson’s object lesson in the pointlessness of war appears to have been ignored. As a result the people of Samoa were faced with the exact same predicament as European intrigue exacerbated existing tensions in Samoa which erupted into civil war in 1899. In an astounding turn of events the American heavy cruiser U.S.S. Philadelphia shelled Apia on March the 14th almost ten years to the day of the anniversary of the hurricane which ended the first conflict.

The shelling was done in an attempt to dissolve a provisional government set up by Mata’afa and Germany but instead it inflamed the hostilities and Mata’afa’s forces attacked houses in Apia, particularly the Tivoli Hotel where three American sailors were killed. On 30 March a British and American force under Commander Sturdee, along with about one hundred Samoans supporting chief Malietoa under Lieutenant Gaunt, made their way along the coast driving small numbers of Mata’afa’s men before them.

Malietoa supporters and United Sates marines on the streets of Apia, 1899, published by Kerry and Co.

Malietoa supporters and marines on the streets of Apia, 1899, published by Kerry and Co.

On the first of April, and no doubt feeling full of confidence at the ease with which they were forcing Mata’afa’s forces off the coast, they pursued him inland. This tactic was foolhardy in the extreme as they were no longer covered by the fire of the warships and were attacked by thousands of Mata’afa’s men. While only seven were killed, the historian Paul Kennedy considered these were, ‘remarkably light considering the circumstances’. The upshot of all this activity was the establishment of Samoan, American and British forces along the coast while Mata’afa’s Samoan forces and the Germans were firmly entrenched in the interior. The inevitable deadlock was broken by a ceasefire announced on 25 April and in May 1899.

This second conflict was not covered by the Stevenson’s pen but by another medium, photography. The Powerhouse Museum’s ‘Tyrrell Collection’ contains twenty-six glass plate negatives taken during the conflict, which, while not containing the erudite flourishes of an author, do give us some realistic insights into this civil war. These photographs were originally published by the Sydney firm of Kerry and Co., although it is unlikely the company actually took the photographs themselves.

The 80s are Back- logistics of display

Photography by Emma Bjorndahl © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved.

It appears that the curatorial team are trying to break the PHM world record of number of lenders per exhibition. Currently sitting on about 70 lenders I understand they will settle for no less than …..yes, you guessed it 80 lenders – it’s a numbers thing.

Supporting the curators are a dedicated bunch of staff members virtually throwing LP covers and stuffed toys at the exhibition, revealing an awful lot about themselves in the process, or at least what they were up to in the 80s. To date fifteen staff members have kindly lent their beloved belongings including 94 LP covers, a plethora of posters, princess Diana doll (really Kathleen!) a care bear, Garfield, glo worm and of course a piece of the Berlin wall and motor scooter.

So what do they have to beat – a quick check of other exhibitions has me noticing a bit of a curatorial link here.

The top three loan generating exhibitions over the last 15 years are: 69 lenders for “Spinning around”, 83 lenders for “On the box” and a whopping 110 for “Real Wild Child” (including the travelling component). All of these exhibitions were the work of curator Peter Cox!

But this exhibition is more than the sum of its loans, the exhibition draws from the museums own collection and collected archives. The number of objects (not including parts) in our collection database which have been selected for the 80s exhibition is sitting at around 570 which includes furniture, textiles, numismatics, radios, badges, posters and much, much more.

Basically if it existed in the 80s we have one (or two) on display!

Come and visit the exhibition!