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Maybe you were part of one back in school where you picked out items to tuck away, or maybe you’ve seen one get opened. I’m talking about that quirky thing we call a time capsule. There was a big trend of creating or uncovering time capsules in the latter half of the 20th century, hitting its peak around 2000.
Even though the phrase “time capsule” popped up at the 1939 New York World’s Fair, the idea has roots way back to the Gilded Age and Progressive Era when people sealed autographs, photos, and other memorabilia in various cities. But why do it? Historian Nick Yablon suggests that the way time capsules were buried during major anniversaries or at the turn of centuries indicates they served mostly as commemorative pieces—think patriotic feel-good moments and temporary political agreement.
But he also mentions that the reasons behind these “time vessels,” as he puts it, were a bit more complex, revealing the political climate and controversies of the time.
It’s super easy to make a time capsule, which is why many don’t include anything particularly valuable. He notes that often, the contents are just copies of documents that you can find in libraries anyway. So the goal wasn’t really about saving unique items; rather, what ended up inside reflected the values of those who got to pick or okay the items.
With so many time capsules being created over the years, there could be hundreds lying underground now, long past their intended opening dates, with no clue about where they are or what’s inside, Yablon writes. This sounds thrilling in theory, but in reality, it’s not as exciting.
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In the ’70s, there were some even bolder efforts to send messages through time and space. In 1976, President Ford was about to crack open an 1879 capsule with unknown contents, and he played it safe by saying, “there is no safe big enough to hold the dreams, energies, and talents of our people,” no matter what was in the box. Unfortunately, just like Geraldo Rivera’s antic with Al Capone’s vault in 1985, it turned out to be a bit of a letdown.
“The mundane items—a pen holder, a scroll, an autograph and photo album, and assorted odds and ends—turned out to be ‘somewhat disappointing for those present,’” Yablon quotes from the news reports of the time.
However, the ’70s did spark some cooler attempts to send capsule messages far into the future. The plaques on the Pioneer 10 (1972) and Pioneer 11 spacecraft launched in 1973, along with the gold records on Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 in 1977, were basically time capsules meant for both space and time, reflecting our hopes and fears.
William E. Jarvis thinks of them more as “cornerstone repositories” than modern terrestrial time capsules because the Voyager Record and Pioneer plaque capsules don’t have a set date for retrieval. Cornerstone repositories have been around for ages in Europe, involving placing items in the cornerstone of new buildings during construction. They’re similar to time capsules but are meant to be left undisturbed, kind of like good luck charms.
Jarvis also notices a trend in how we define time capsules—they either have short durations or are ridiculously long term.
“Between 1939 and 1979, at least seven millennium (1000 years or more) time capsules were sealed, while centennial time capsules are pretty common,” he writes. “Most fit this millennial-centennial pattern: there aren’t many time capsules designed to be closed for over a hundred years or less than a thousand.”
Take the Crypt of Civilization, buried at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta, Georgia. It was sealed in 1940 and scheduled to be opened in 8113. The Crypt is a huge chamber measuring twenty feet long and ten feet high, made from granite walls lined with porcelain enamel and pitch. The stone floor is two feet thick, resting on solid Appalachian granite bedrock, and the stone ceiling is seven feet thick.
Inside, there are tons of items, according to Jarvis. Future explorers will find:
a toy train, a log-building set, mannequins, binoculars, an Emerson radio, a glass dish and cover, an electric toaster, a pair of stockings, dentures, a plastic flute, a glass rolling pin, a quart of beer, a lit makeup mirror, a life-size model of a pregnant woman, phonograph records covering various music styles, and two DuMont TV receivers.
Jarvis believes this grand project was inspired by the opening of ancient Egyptian tombs earlier in the 20th century. Those tombs, especially Tutankhamun’s, revealed mostly untouched treasures from thousands of years ago. So, the Oglethorpe Crypt aims to showcase 20th-century life for people far down the line.
Most time capsules aren’t nearly as ambitious, but they still have their purposes. Yablon describes creating a capsule as a way to implement “safeguards against oblivion”—making sure the container survives and is found and opened at the right time. But metaphorically, “safeguards against oblivion” express a deeper wish—to not be forgotten.
