It never ceases to amaze me how many of Mr. Eastman’s belongings find their way back home again.

On Thursday May 29, 2008 at about lunch time I received a call from our Admission staff informing me that a man had stopped by the museum to speak to me about an object he believed he owned that once belonged to George Eastman. I dropped what I was doing and went downstairs to meet with him.

Donald Connell of Scottsville, New York had brought with him a digital photo of a very old black leather chair with oak arms and trim. On further inspection you could see lovely hand painted trim work in red, green and gold and the chair was not a typical arm chair it was actually designed to be in a permanent reclining position. The chair would need major restoration work since the leather seat was torn and you could see that horse hair had probably been used to stuff the seat since some of it was showing.

Having studied many historic photos of the rooms in Mr. Eastman’s home I knew I had never seen a chair like it in the house but the fact that it was upholstered in black leather meant it could have been used in Eastman’s Billiard room where there is a black leather sofa or in one of his third floor recreation rooms. More research would be necessary.

I asked Mr. Connell how he acquired the chair and its history. He explained that his uncle Neal Wessi was an electrician and he was doing some work at 900 East Avenue when it was owned by the University of Rochester Presidents. He saw the chair in either a barn or garage on the property admired it and was given it by an employee of the U of R at the time. Mr. Connell got the chair from his uncle. Knowing how the house had changed owners over the years the provenance was believable and I started to get excited.

When George Eastman died in 1932 he left his home and most of its contents to the University of Rochester to be the home of the University’s Presidents. Two Presidents lived here from about 1933 until 1946 and then the property became a museum of photography and film and a memorial to George Eastman. Many of Eastman’s original belongings were used by the U of R families that lived in the house but many of them also left the home when they redecorated.

Now that the provenance was reasonable I had to prove that this chair really was George Eastman’s. I knew my work was cut out for me. When furnishings are not depicted in original photos left behind by GE I have two recourses. One- lots of research in GE’s personal correspondence to see if I can find an order or a receipt for a black leather recliner that fits the description of the chair in question or see if the item has an original canvas tag on it that was placed on all pieces in GE home after his death as part of his estate inventory.

I asked Mr. Connell to look under the chair when he returned home and see if he could find the telltale tag I had described to him. Within an hour of his departure he called me and informed me he had found the tag. Now I was sure of the provenance and could take the chair. I would need to get approval of its acceptance into the collection at my next George Eastman Legacy Acquisition meeting which was scheduled for July.

Mr. Connell delivered the chair on Monday June 2, 2008. I did the appropriate paperwork with our Registrars office and then had the chair photographed. The chair sat in the George Eastman study center for about 6 weeks before our acquisition committee actually met to approve its addition into the collection. During that time I answered innumerable questions from visitors about the piece. Many were curious about how it was made and where it would be placed once repaired and others were just fascinated that original items once belonging to GE were still out there and being returned. One person actually made a donation towards repair of the chair once it was officially in the collection.

The chair was officially accepted into the collection on July 23, 2008. Now my work begins. The chair will need to be cleaned, accessioned, professionally photographed and cataloged and then sent out for re-upholstery and repair. When it is returned looking like it would have in GE time it will be again put on display in its rightful place in one of GE restored rooms.

I feel about the movie Breaking Away the same way I do about good pizza. Sometimes I get a strong craving to watch this movie that needs to fed as soon as possible. Breaking Away (screening Friday, July 25 at 8 p.m. at the Dryden Theatre) has a magic combination of charisma, charm, sincerity, and good old-fashioned storytelling that I find irresistible.

The story follows young cyclist Dave (played by Dennis Christopher) as he aspires to become a pro, in the spirit of the great Italian cyclists. Training for Dave involves not just physical training, but adapting the persona and mannerisms of an Italian cyclist, right down to speaking the language, listening to opera, and eating Italian cuisine (much to the consternation of his prideful American dad).

Dave tools around with a trio of tight working-class mates (played with effortless naturalism by Dennis Quaid, Jackie Earle Haley, and Daniel Stern) who behold him with solidarity, but keep his lofty aspirations in check with real-world skepticism. The gang is otherwise known as “Cutters,” a reference to their fathers who all worked as stonecutters in the outlying limestone quarries. The irony is that they all live in Bloomington, Indiana, in the shadow of the University of Indiana—an institution that their families helped build, but which none of them can afford to attend.

The Cutters have just finished high school, and are living in that weird, transitional phase prior to college, a professional career, or a life in the Army. It’s especially difficult for these kids, who have just been unceremoniously dropped from the goal-oriented routines of high-school sports. As Stern’s character Cyril says, “I sure miss playing basketball. I got depressed as hell when my athlete’s foot and jock itch went away.”

In Roger Ebert’s 1979 review, he states, “Breaking Away is a movie to embrace. It’s about people who are complicated but decent, who are optimists but see things realistically, who are fundamentally comic characters but have three full dimensions. It’s about a Middle America we rarely see in the movies, yes, but it’s not corny and it doesn’t condescend. Movies like this are hardly ever made at all; when they’re made this well, they’re precious cinematic miracles.”

Breaking Away is presented in conjunction with the 2008 Rochester Omnium cycling event (August 8–10). For anyone who rolls in on a bicycle for this screening on Friday, July 25 at 8 p.m., we will offer a $4 admission to the movie. Free bike parking, as always.

I brag that I have the best job in the world — promoting George Eastman House — since the work and activities of our staff and schools, and the breadth of our unparalleled collections, impress me every day. And I am the lucky person who gets to tell the world.

My 10 years as public relations manager at Eastman House have presented me with incredible opportunities as a witness to the world of photography and film.

I’ve organized and moderated press conferences for the likes of Meryl Streep, Dennis Hopper, Jeff Bridges, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Janet Leigh. I’ve picked up my phone to have Spike Lee and Tony Curtis on the other end (two separate occasions, of course). I hung out for days with musician/photographer Graham Nash, when he was at Eastman House in 1998 to mount his exhibition Digital Frontiers. While we awaited the start of a press event, Graham plunked out some notes on the piano in the Eastman House movie theater. Spontaneously he and I began to sing a duet of his hit “Our House” (is a very, very, very fine house). He took the high part…

Jeff Bridges at Eastman House press conference

On more than one occasion I’ve witnessed an archivist unrolling, before my eyes, the original camera negatives to the 1939 classic The Wizard of Oz. This is the film that was in the camera when the movie was shot, just feet away from Judy Garland. (Admittedly, I’m quite a fan of the film..my baby’s nursery is decorated in the Oz theme and I’ve actually met eight of the nine surviving munchkins).

The latest opportunity to be in the same room with these rare negatives was during an Associated Press interview about the Eastman House’s nitrate collection (films made before 1951). The oz negs had just returned from Hollywood, as they were beckoned by Warner Bros. to create a new Blu-ray disc featuring the Oz film.

Deborah Stoiber, Eastman House nitrate vault manager, educates reporter Ben Dobbin of the Associated Press about film preservation methods, during an April 2008 interview.

The resulting AP article, issued in May 2008, was widely popular, picked up by hundreds of newspapers across the globe, from The Washington Times to The China Post.

The Wizard of Oz, however, is just one title in the motion picture collection for which Eastman House preserves the camera negatives. We also have the negatives to Gone With the Wind and, yes, I’ve been lucky enough to see those as well.

But as I “brag” about my amazing experiences on the frontlines at Eastman House, nothing compares to one, single moment that I will never forgot.

In 2001, Eastman House presented the exhibition The Girl in the Picture. The girl in focus was 9-year-old Kim Phuc (fook). The picture was the Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph taken by AP photographer Nick Ut in 1972 of a screaming and naked Viatnamese girl running down the road after a napalm bombing. She was naked because she had torn the fiery clothes from her body while she ran away from a burning temple where she had sought refuge.

This image became a symbol of the horrors of the war in Vietnam, as well as a powerful rallying point for peace — viewed as an anti- war symbol in the West and an anti-American symbol in Vietnam. Yet few people know the girl’s name or her fate.

Both Phuc and Ut agreed to attend the opening of the exhibition at Eastman House, having reunited in recent years and become friends.

The Girl in the Picture exhibition featured the famous photograph, but also a series of photographs of Phuc taken by Ut — who had set down his camera after photographing the attack and Phuc and ultimately saved Phuc’s life by transporting her to the closest hospital, since she had been severely burned.

When at Eastman House, I had the honor of escorting Phuc, now a U.N. delegate living in Canada, and Ut, still working as an AP photographer. Following lunch, we went to see the exhibition for the first time. Making our way toward the photographs, we talked casually about a variety of topics.

With a sudden jolt, Phuc and Ut halted upon reaching the display. The photographs before them were evidently jarring. They fell into each other’s arm and sobbed. Clinging to one another, they touched the photographs and shared memories about the “happy” photos taken by Ut, such as the one where Phuc was smiling in the hospital after a long recovery.

Nick Ut and Kim Phuc pose in front of the photograph that changed their lives.

Almost three decades had passed since that tragic day, but the wounds were still deep. Two local TV crews, poised and awaiting our arrival, admirably turned off their cameras and gave Phuc and Ut privacy during this tender time.

Although emotional, Phuc and Ut continued with their public appearances that day at a press conference and a panel discussion with museum members. They were brave, eloquent, charming, personable, and gracious.

Also in attendance that day where former Eastman House trustees Hal Buell and Horst Faas — the ones responsible for sharing Ut?s photo with the world. In 1972 two-time Pulitzer winner Faas was the AP photo chief in Saigon who transmitted Ut?s image to Buell in AP’s New York office. Following some debate about its shocking nature, they readily put the photo on the wire. Together these four people made history, through both courage and the power of photography.

As I am fortunate to be a witness to such amazing happenings at Eastman House, I hope to share more accounts in the future on the Eastman House Blog.