Cotsen Children’s Library

Two weeks ago the Princeton Board Games Club visited Special Collections to look at a selection of Cotsen’s board games. Here they are battling it out over Election: The Game of the Day, a 1950s board game very loosely based on Monopoly where players try to win seats in the House of Commons. The battle for voters in Coventry and Bedford was spirited.

But when they walked into the large classroom, they made a beeline to the game shown in the foreground of the photograph and asked what it was? The playing surface appears to be a drawing covering four sheets of paper which have been mounted on board, varnished, and hinged with fabric. The only evidence for the materials that were used if the label shown to the left pasted on the back. The creator didn’t sign the front anywhere obvious, although it’s possible a name could be concealed somewhere among all the figures. Sometimes the rules for published board games are printed down the vertical sides, but this feature was not copied. Perhaps they were written out and made into a little booklet. The tokens and dice probably went missing decades ago.

Was this pastime based on Snakes and Ladders or is it a variation of the Game of the Goose, the most popular race game of all? There’s no way to know unless players line up at the castle in the upper left hand corner and advance down the track.

[Antique Manuscript Board Game]. [London?, 1920s?]. (Cotsen)

Like any version of the Game of the Goose, players lucky enough to land on certain squares get a leg up on their competitors. The Bull of Norway from the fairy tale waits at number 88 to carry the player to number 111.

Among the obstacles to advancement is a fiery salamander, who will detain a play until a six is thrown. There two dragons to avoid… Land on number 25 (notice that there’s one in bold in a circle and another above) and the knight kills the lion waiting to maul travellers and the the player can jump over the scaly brute to number 35. The second dragon can be slain if Excalibur is pulled from the stone at number 93. Otherwise it will eat the unfortunate player who lands on number 94, eliminating him or her from play. The satyr facing it is perhaps piping a tune to improve its digestion. The elves to the right look disinclined to intervene.

Tramp through the Forest of Sherwood and meet Dick Turpin, the highwayman, who will relieve the player of unnecessary baggage. Avoid him and there’s a chance of nabbing the Seven League Boots that will skip ahead to number 73.

Hurry down to the sea and sail a tall ship around Neptune and bypass Long John Silver on Treasure Island.

Turn north to head for home, a stately country home. Perhaps it is a picture of a real place, the actual site where this quirky shared world cum board game was made. So far there aren’t enough clues to figure out who drew the game board, although it seems a good guess that the person lived in England before the first World War and was very familiar with the classics of Victorian literature. When it’s digitized and up in the Cotsen module of DPUL, the board game club can figure out how it’s played!

All-Sports Library. New York, N.Y.: Winner Library Co., 1905-1906. (Cotsen RCPXC-9721333)

The dime novel, like all subgenres of cheap or pulp fiction, enjoys a reputation comparable to the chapbook in the history of young people’s reading. The story goes that no good can come of consuming them, but they will be devoured. There is at least one shining light in the mounds of trash: All-Sports Library (February 11, 1905- March 3, 1906), with its “best tales of athletic sports” supposed to “teach the American boy to become an athlete and lay the foundation of a constitution greater than that of the United States….This love for the ‘life strenuous’ is making itself manifest… Recognizing the ‘handwriting on the wall,’ we have concluded that the time has arrived to give this vast army of young enthusiasts a publication devoted exclusively to invigorating out-door life.”This nickel weekly with its big color cover ($2.50 per year) was published by Street & Smith on 7^th Avenue in Manhattan, which poured out cheap paperbacks, weekly magazines, and comic books from 1888 until 1959, when it was bought by Condé Nast (Shown above, volume 1, no. 1. Cotsen RCPXC-9721333 Story papers). All but two of the 30,000-word stories in its 56 issues were written by John H. Whitson under the name of Maurice Stevens. He was probably paid by the word.

The hero of All-Sports Library was a boy from a small town in New England: JACK LIGHTFOOT, the best all-round athlete in Cranford or vicinity, keen of eye, clean of speech, and, after he had conquered a few of his faults, possessed of a faculty for doing things while others were talking, by degrees caused him to be looked upon as the natural leader in all the sports Young American delights in—a boy who in learning to conquer himself put the power into his hands to wrest victory from others.

The list of Jack’s adventures in All-Sports Library from number 16 to 50.

At the beginning of the run, Jack and his band of steadfast friends could be found playing the national sports of baseball and football, branching out into lesser diversions such as hockey and trapshooting. Occasionally Jack’s leadership abilities were engaged by a mutiny by his team in the gym or foul play by the opposing team. As the year 1905 progressed, Whitson, aka “Maurice Stevens” was obliged to go farther afield to keep his readers’ interest alive. On a winter hunting trip, the intrepid Jack brought down multiple bull moose with his favorite firearm. The story was supplemented with a timely column by “An Old Athlete,” who was responsible for the feature “How to Do Things:” instructions and pointers on the construction of snowshoes at home. Did All-Sports Library scrupulously exclude the ladies from its clubhouse? Not entirely–their enthusiastic presence during games, cheering on the sidelines kept morale high. Pretty sisters in distress provided the manly and virtuous Jack the opportunity to come to their rescue. Kate, of the thick tresses and flashing eyes, accidentally encountered on her way home a young man under the influence of alcohom, who tried to obtain a nonconsenual kiss. This unhappy incident has been abridged to omit the passage where Jack disarms Buck of a wickedly sharp knife before it can be used on him. But not without a struggle to master his rage when he wants to turn the knife on Kate’s assailant.
Contrary to the conclusions that could be drawn from the scene above, Kate was no wilting flower. She was a plucky girl, more than capable of coming to Jack’s rescue when he found himself at a disadvantage in some encounter. Every issue a number of young subscribers wrote in to the editor. “Jack Lightfoot the Second” in Elizabeth, New Jersey wrote about his sister Beth, who was his best friend and preferred playmate. Among the things they did together was retreat to his den and read the weekly. “Maurice Stevens” was praised to the skies, naturally. Considerable anxiety was expressed over height and weight: subscribers were always submitting their vital statistics to the editor in order to find out if they were too thin, too fat, or too short for their ages. Others cheerfully confessed that they were real bookworms and testified that All-Sports Library was their all-time favorite (their dads read every issue cover to cover). True fans kept all their issues of All-Sports Library in a binder. To the right is a specimen of a rousing cheer for the magazine. The uniform tone and style of the letters is somewhat suspicious: either they were rewritten into conformity or some member of the editorial staff created them out of whole cloth. Is it a coincidence that this letter suggesting that readers would really like to hear about Jack’s experiences at boarding school appeared before the scene shifted to his new school, where the older boys subjected him to hazing, going so far as to tie him to a railroad track (he was able to loosen his bonds and escape before the train came down the tracks).In March 1906, subscribers were notified that their favorite weekly was going to be suspended and consolidated with Tip Top Weekly, where they would be treated to the farther adventures of the peerless Frank Merriwell and his friends. But this was not the end of Jack Lightfoot and his jolly bunch. Waste not, want not, must have been a byword at Smith and Streeter, because the content of All-Sports Library was recycled in three additional publications: the New Medal Library, Sports Stories, and Round the World Library.