The photos were found in a stack of file drawers that had been piled high in a corner of the little depot - known as the freight office - which sits adjacent to Globe’s iconic 1916 Train Depot on north Broad Street. Donated to Kip Culver, who ran Globe’s Mainstreet Program and spearheaded the restoration of the train depot and freight office, they sat forgotten among the paint cans and other projects, yet to be gotten to.
Talking to Molly Cornwell recently, who explained that the photos were discovered after the flood, thanks to a “beautiful mass of people” who showed up right after to help muck out the depot buildings and sort what could be salvaged from the unsalvageable. It was during this time that every drawer, shelf and forgotten corner was emptied and pulled out into the sunlight. It was here that volunteers found loose filing-cabinet drawers stacked atop one another, behind paint and cleaning supplies.
Inside the drawers were hundreds of photography studio envelopes, each labeled by subject matter and stamped Norman Studio. The negatives, which were mold-damaged, crusted, and fragile—clearly pre-damaged—now sat in a layer of mud and debris.
Some drawers were in such poor condition that hard decisions had to be made quickly. In the chaos of flood recovery, one severely damaged drawer was discarded—a choice that still weighs heavily on Cornwell, as the potential of what survived becomes clearer.
It was Rick Benning, a mainstay of the Downtown Association for nearly two decades, from hosting jail tours, helping with the Copper Spike Excursion Train, donning the Easter Bunny suit for the Globe’s annual downtown Easter Parade, and a multitude of other jobs, took on the task of seeing what could be done to salvage the collection.
Working from home, he has been able to clean, stabilize, and restore a good many of the images. Even those that show damage are still valuable for what they do show.
What once appeared unsalvageable is now slowly coming back into focus: faces, storefronts, celebrations, and moments long forgotten.
What began as a race to clear mud and save buildings has unexpectedly revealed something far more enduring: a visual record of who we were.
As Cornwell said, “There were things in that closet we had never seen which made up desperately for things we are pretty sure we have lost.”
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