The troubled past of a major museum.
Lunde, mammal collection manager at the National Museum of Natural History, recounts the early decades of the American Museum of Natural History, which opened in 1877 on what was then a remote tract in upper Manhattan. From the first, its mission was “the promotion of moral lessons through the use of science.” Those moral lessons, Lunde reveals, were informed by prevalent assumptions about man’s dominion over nature and white man’s supremacy. Lunde’s narrative stars three men most prominent in shaping the museum’s identity: the wealthy and well-connected Henry Fairfield Osborn, hired as the first curator of paleontology and serving as the museum’s president from 1908 to 1933; intrepid explorer Roy Chapman Andrews; and Carl Ethan Akeley, a pioneering taxidermist, who once killed a leopard with his bare hands and later survived being mauled by a bull elephant. To amass the collections, they raised funds for and carried out expeditions in Africa, Asia, and South America to bring back specimens, trapping and shooting as many animals as they thought they needed for their displays. Their haul was often huge: Akeley, for one, collected 80 tons of whale skeletons in Japan. The decades of expansion for the museum coincided with the rise of eugenics, which held that certain moral, intellectual, and behavioral traits were inherited and that Nordics, the pinnacle of human evolution, had a separate origin from peoples of Africa. Osborn’s Hall of the Age of Man reflected this pseudoscience. “To Osborn,” Lunde writes, “humanity was a race-based social hierarchy, with the likes of himself at the top.” Even as he exposes the “exploitative ideas and practices” that pervaded the museum’s early days, Lunde acknowledges too the lasting treasure that shines as these men’s legacy.
A colorful, authoritative history.