Beschreibung:

BYRD, RICHARD EVELYN. 1888-1957. Autograph Manuscript, titled by Byrd "Ramblings in the Shadow of the Pole," being Admiral Richard E. Byrd's diary from his Second Antarctic Expedition in winter 1934, source material for his landmark 1934 account Alone, 4to (240 x 195 mm), 318 pp, written primarily recto only, some blank, with additional entries to versos, pencil on lined paper, numbered in upper right corner, in standard 400 page lined paper notebook, Antarctica, Bolling Advance Base, 123 miles south of Little America, March 29, 1934 to August 11, 1934, standard leather-backed brown cloth diary, spine perished, heavily water-stained, pages brittle, with loss, particularly to the prelims, but primarily legible, disbound. WITH: 4 additional pp of autograph notes, dated August 19 – 25, [1934,] and initialed twice in the margins "AHW" dated Aug 25, seemingly notes to be communicated by Amory "Bud" Hooper Waite to the outside world, one to Clarence Mackay, who funded in part the expedition, folded, some tears, soiling. WITH: Rare Portrait Photograph of a young Richard Evelyn Bird, Jr, U.S.N., a full-length portrait in full uniform, gelatin silver print, 5 x 7 inches, corner mounted in presentation folder.
Provenance: Richard Evelyn Byrd Jr (1888-1957); by descent; sold to the present owner.
BYRD'S PREVIOUSLY UNDISCOVERED ORIGINAL DIARY OF "PHILOSOPHY AND THE DAILY DOINGS" DURING HIS MONTHS ALONE AT THE ADVANCE BASE CAMP DURING THE WINTER OF 1934. One of the most famous stories of the golden age of polar exploration, Admiral Richard E. Byrd's four months alone in a tiny shelter during the Antarctic winter of 1934 remain the stuff of legend. From late March until his dramatic rescue on August 10, Byrd manned the Bolling Advance Base alone, suffering a collapse on May 31 from inhalation of carbon monoxide from his stove and a defective generator, miraculously enduring the months of June and July weakened by the poison from his primary source of heat. As he neatly summed it up as early as June 8, "To cut the poison, I must endure the freezing cold. To reduce the cold, I must endure the poison. It's a tough problem. Don't feel I can endure much either way" (Diary, p 28). This previously unrecorded diary adds an incredible new primary source to Byrd's story, offering an enormous opportunity for illumination of a variety of subjects including exploration, survival, autobiography, and narrative integrity.
One of the most lauded accounts of Polar exploration, Byrd's published account titled Alone (1938) documenting his time at the advance base has been revered for its intense inner scrutiny and resolve, as well as the source for interesting considerations on autobiography and narrative. Written with Charlie Murphy as ghostwriter, Byrd's Alone is an important work in the canon of polar and survival literature. According to the cover sheet here in Byrd's hand, he kept two diaries during his months at Bolling Advance Base, "one book with philosophy and the daily doings and one with just the daily doings." This autograph manuscript comprises both the philosophy and his "daily doings," which were distilled and combined with notes from the other diary, with the assistance of Charlie Murphy, for the published narrative in Alone. The present diary reflects Byrd's initial optimism facing months alone in the coldest region of the earth, his thoughtful philosophy during those early days, the onset of darkness and the beginnings of his self-poisoning, through his collapse into suffering and madness as the journal entries become erratic, mostly stopping after July 20 (which was the date of the first failed rescue attempt).
Much of the material in the diary was not used in the book verbatim, but clearly the account in the book is based in part on this material. In the early parts of the diary, after the departure of the tractors on March 28, Byrd settles into his life at Advance base, building out a 3rd forty-foot tunnel (for his escape if necessary), and learning to operate within his surroundings. His entries here are philosophical, on his situation, on life on happiness, for instance, on April 13: "The imagination atrophies without [contemplation]. Solitude is necessary for contemplation. But perhaps much of the mad rush of modern life is an attempt to avoid leaden thought" (p 55). And on April 14, reflecting on the silence at sunset, appearing rather famously in Alone Chapter 3, with slight alterations, ending "The day was dying, the night being born — but with infinite peace. Here were the forces of the cosmos, though imponderable, functioning gently harmoniously silently ... Harmony that was it. That was what came from the silence — a gentle rhythm. The music of the cosmos. It was enough to catch that rhythm to feel myself part of the silence" (pp 64-65). On April 17, he records, "The sun left today. I'll not see it again for a little over four months. The long night has begun now I'm in for it ... as I write this it is 57 below and going down" (p 83). Interestingly, his finding of the cookbook, which takes a major place in the published text, does not appear here.
Soon, however, he really is "in for it." He records on April 28, "Today it was that weird gray where there is no difference between snow and sky and it feels like walking on the bottom of a gray ocean... have to fight monotony and sameness" (p 149), and on the 29th, we learn "There can be so much sleep that there finally ensues some sort of poisonous sedative" (p 151). By May 4th, in a telling entry, misdated April 24, he is irritable and depressed, "Don't know what's the matter. Too much carbon monoxide; the lack of sun and some important vitamin...; seeing no other human being; too much cold; too little exercise; too much monotony; etc. As a matter of fact, I don't think its any of these things: I think it's me..." (p 173). These are the first signs of a crack. May continues with highs and lows. Interestingly, on May 5, he directly references the other diary: "(for crevasse experience, see other diary)" (p 181). On May 26, he notes, "There can be no doubt the fumes are gratually (sic) weakening my system" (p 263). And then after a long entry on May 29 on the dangers of getting lost at camp in the absolute whiteness during his measurements, no entries until June 2.
On June 2, he writes, "I'm afraid the end not far off. The last 48 hours has been a long nightmare ... Letter for Marie and the children in the green box. Various messages and instructions I have left hanging from a nail on the East Wall. In red pencil – these must not be lost ... Little do they realize that I'll probably not be with them ... Have been down and out since the 31st" (p 276). And on June 4, clearly still weak, "Must keep up radio schedule at all costs. Otherwise my men will come for me" (p 277). On June 8, he describes his predicament (quoted in first paragraph) clearly, and in the following entry, dated June 5 (probably June 9), he observes, "... to my surprise I'm still here. No man has ever fought for bigger stakes, infinitely more than my life ... to keep Marie [his wife] from bitter loneliness." By June 10 (the following entry), he has begun to feel better, " It has been tough but I now feel that I have most of the poison out of my system ... the light is bad and my eyes suffer but better that than to keep getting carbon monoxide into my system. Keep more air in the room and therefore much colder" (p 279). He still has more than two months until the sun returns and he might be rescued. He frames his situation as a fight, "Even if I win my fight for survival this is a long drawn out affair. I must admit I have lost some of my ... early enthusiasm. It is not natural to be utterly alone week after week after week surrounded always by night..." (p 281).
Throughout June he struggles to hide his predicament from his team at Little America. We know from other accounts that they nonetheless suspected something was wrong with their leader. In mid-July the entries get very sparse. On July 15, after a couple of days with no entries, he records simply, " We must make life beautiful for the people. I believe I had a strong hold on life" (p 311). And he records nothing about the potential rescue efforts that were being organized by his men at Little America. The final entry is dated August 11, the day after his men arrived to rescue him, simply: "When I saw the light of the tractor I got a tremendous feeling of happiness I said to myself – I will see Marie my wife again" (p 313).
An extraordinary document of one the greatest explorers of the golden age, the diary of Admiral Richard Byrd at the Bolling Advance base overwinter of 1934 sheds new light on one of the most important stories of 20th-century exploration, and of human resilience and survival. The 1996 discovery of Byrd's diary of his 1926 flight to the North Pole in the archives of Ohio State caused a sensation, and the discovery of this diary of Byrd's struggle alone at advance base at the end of his second Antarctic Expedition is possibly even more astounding.