The Archaeology of the Mediterranean World

Small Town Archaeology III pt.2

As promised yesterday, here is the second part of our salvaging expedition to Crookston, Minnesota.  Our goal was a beautiful, 1898, yellow-brick house which was to be demolished in the levy building projected on the banks of the Red Lake River.  The buff bricks immediately tie the house to the building traditions of the Red River Valley.  Numerous brick buildings in the region sport these buff colored bricks produced at either the Crookston or Grand Forks brickworks.  The house preserved some nice architectural detail.

But also some unmistakable signs of age.  The back wall of the house showed significant distress.

It was interesting to see that the builders had arranged a single course of bricks perpendicular to the courses used in the rest of the house (I am sure there is an architectural term for this and I suspect that I knew it once, but now I can't remember it!).  It served as an informal cornice immediately above ground level.

We were not the first salvagers in the house.  Early arrivals had removed much of the kitchen cabinets and counters, but had left behind the two working flour bins with hardware.

They had also removed the carpets from the first floor and exposed in the process the hardwood floors on the lower level.

They had, somewhat aggressively, removed the wooden railing from the interior stair case.

Despite the efforts at salvaging, the house itself retained features common to its age including nicely executed wood frames around the doors, wooden doors with attractive hardware, some well-maintained three-pane windows, and early 20th century duct covers.  We scoped out the situation quickly and decided to attempt the most serious salvaging projects first.  This involved the turn of the century picture window with stained glass insert. The window was held in place by a relatively narrow trim piece that once removed, allowed us to remove the window and pane without any damage. I'd like to think that the stained glass was original to the house.

We then turned out attention to doors (my co-conspirator Bret Weber was in search of 30 inch wooden doors for his roughly contemporary house in Grand Forks) and the duct covers.  My house has forced air hear that comes up through the floor.  We keep saying that we'd like to have in wall ducts and these early 20th century duct covers would complement our 1900 American four-square's architecture.  It was interesting to see that some of the duct covers had lost their ornate little regulators.  Bret pointed out how these small hoops (visible in the top picture below) turned a braided piece of metal (not a screw!) that pushed or pulled a metal flap that opened or closed the duct.  A very elegant solution!

Examining the doors revealed some nice early 20th century hardware.  We expected to see glass door knobs, but the intricate work on the mortise locks, in particular, attracted our attention.  I think that I could see some art deco influences on the design, so my feeling is that these date to the second quarter of the 20th century, but then again, they were consistent throughout the house and it is hard to imagine a systematic effort to replace all the door hardware 40 years after the house was completed.  It is possible that these are original.  The mortise lock and hardware was relatively easy to salvage.

From an archaeological perspective, it was interesting (although unsurprising) to see that all the meters were removed from the outside of the house.  The house was quite literally "off the grid" in that some of the tools which embedded the house within the community fabric were stripped away.

On the other hand, there were all sorts of reminders that the house had recently been lived in.  The reminders of everyday life were haunting.  Christmas lights, an outlet, a marble.

Small Town Archaeology III

On Friday afternoon, Bret Weber (a historian and social worker in the Department of Social Work) headed out to Crookston, Minnesota on a tip that there were a handful of houses there available for salvage.  The house that interested us the most was 19th century yellow brick home.  Readers of this blog know that I have an interest in what I've termed "small town archaeology" (more here and here).  This is the archaeological processes visible in everyday life in a small town.  On Friday, we were able to examine abandonment patterns visible in a group of houses slated for demolition as part of the new levy building project in Crookston.  The Red Lake River curls its way through town so a good many historically significant buildings are likely to be effected by this levy building project. 

The town itself is not inconsequential.  It is the county seat of Polk County, Minnesota and the seat of the Catholic Bishop with a population of around 8,000 people.  In recent years, however, it has suffered economic decline with several local industries closing down.  Fortunately, the local hospital and the University of Minnesota at Crookston provide some economic stability to the town, but it can hardly be considered a thriving place. 

With this context in mind, it is interesting to see how abandonment and salvage processes proceeded locally. 

Driving through town, one of the strangest sights is a brick building from which the bricks have been removed from one long stretch exposing the wood superstructure.  It seems likely that at some point the brick face of the building became unstable and potentially dangerous and was then removed.  It, nevertheless, presents and intriguing example of the kind of small town archaeological visible here, and it, of course, begs the question: where did those bricks go?

As we approached our goal, it was clear that the salvaging process was well underway.  The local humane society thrift store to whom the city had given salvage rights, had explained to us that the Amish had already been through many of the houses.  One house had sections of its roof removed.  Perhaps the roof had skylights.  It is interesting to note that no one had salvaged the air conditioner from this house or any of the relatively "modern" looking windows.  The former might make sense if the salvagers were Amish (who might not have had any use for an airconditioner).  I am not sure why the windows were left behind.  Maybe they were too difficult to remove?

Doors appeared to be popular objects for salvagers.  Next door to the house with holes in its roof was (what appeared to me to be) an early 20th century house which had had doors and windows removed, but then the front door was curiously boarded closed.  It's hard to understand this practice considering right next to the boarded up door was the gaping hole left by the removed front window.

 

Further down the street, a more ambitious salvage project had occurred.  This house had its siding removed. The presence of black tar paper under the siding (rather than the typical, modern house wrap) suggests that this siding was not of the very recent vintage.  The house next to it seemed to be sided in metal.  Bizarre.

Interestingly, they did not remove the satellite television dish from the house.  If this as the work of the Amish, I guess that makes sense.  I can also hear my wife saying something about disposable technology.  Since these dishes are typically part of a service, it may not have been worth the effort to remove it.

We arrived at our destination after this impromptu tour of local abandonment practices.  For our contribution to the salvaging of this houses (a kind of experimental archaeology), stay tuned tomorrow.

For some Crookston on the web, check out this page of olde tyme photos, this interesting blog, this one too, and the work of the Prairie Skyline Foundation.

Richard Patterson and "Archaeological Dig"

I was privileged to hang out with Richard Patterson last week when he visited the University of North Dakota. Rich is a UND alumnus, but prior to his time here in Grand Forks, he was one of the leading lights in the New York City graffiti underworld where he went by Rich2, Provide133, and others. It was fantastic to watch him work and talk at length about the process of creating graffiti in New York in the late 1970s and 1980s.

One of the most striking aspects of our conversations was the process of graffiti production in New York. Far from being a spontaneous work of creativity (or a crime of opportunistic vandalism), graffiti art was carefully planned and choreographed. The process of planning the art was as much, if not more important, than its actual execution. Major works were always done in teams of painters who regularly worked together and sought to exert influence over particular train lines or sections of town.

A key element in painting was the acquisition of paint. The various types of high quality paints that were preferred by graffiti painters were often hard to find in their own neighborhoods. Consequently, they had to go to New Jersey or more affluent areas to get these paints. This could involve trips to multiple locations in search of particular brands and colors needed to make their work distinct. The distinct colors in the art work, then, represented the time, energy, and inventiveness of a particular group of painters.

Another fascinating element of graffiti art that Rich and I discussed was its gradual emergence in mainstream consciousness. He talked about preparing canvasses for the likes of Andy Warhol and Keith Haring and, in retrospect, how they felt exploited by these figures in the art world. Today, of course, graffiti artists have become increasingly clever at promoting and selling their own art, but in the 1970s and 1980s, Rich talked about how their art represented a call for recognition and access to opportunities. Rich and many of the early artists who contributed so much to establishing the artistic cannon for graffiti art were never able to reap any long term benefits of their work.

Despite these disappointments, Rich found other ways to make opportunities for himself. After playing professional basketball in Europe and Asia, he returned to school here at the University of North Dakota where he earned both a B.A. and an M.Ed. He currently teaches in North Carolina and paints only occasionally spending most of his time talking to kids about how to get their lives on track through hard work and discipline.

I was lucky enough to catch him at a moment of weakness and he produce this canvas for my new office. Called "Archaeological Dig", it's done in hand style and captures (only a tiny bit) of the vitality and dynamism that Rich Patterson brings to his art.

For more examples of Rich's amazing work, check out Ryan Stander's Axis of Access. For more on his contributions in particular, check out these two interviews, here and here.

The Flu, The University, and the Department of History

We've recently been barraged by university communications regarding prospects of a serious outbreak of the H1N1 Swine Flu.  This is not the first time that the University of North Dakota has had to deal with an outbreak of the flu.  In 1918, UND endured a particularly tragic outbreak of flu as the campus transformed itself into a base for the Student Army Training Corps (SATC).  Similar to our current situation, the flu crisis was managed by a new university president, Thomas Kane, who had been inaugurated just a year earlier.  Unlike our current leader, Robert Kelley, however, Kane had had a controversial first few months in office including the botched handling of a student drinking case, a flip-flopping attitude toward the tense political situation in the state, and an inflammatory inaugural address that rankled the sensitivities of many longtime university faculty members including the irascible Orin G. Libby.

Louis Geiger's The University of the Northern Plains provides the best summary of the flu's decent on campus in October of 1918.  The university had just re-organized itself to take on the training of over  400 army cadets who greatly outnumbered the small body of regular students on campus.  The campus moved to a quarter system, Davis Hall, Budge Hall, the dinning hall of the Commons, and the Phi Delta Theta Fraternity house were turned over to military use as barracks and headquarters for the cadets and money was allocated for the construction of an Armory. 

Despite what would have appeared to be significant preparations for the arrival of these new students, the university was unprepared for the influenza epidemic when it struck campus in October.  By October 9th, the university had suspended classes and placed the entire campus under a quarantine.  Training and classes for the SATC abruptly stopped as growing numbers of the corp became ill and parts of Budge Hall and the Phi Delta Theta house were converted to make-shift hospitals to serve the increasing number of sick students.  The hospitals, however, lacked proper equipment, toiletries, and bedding making them poorly suited to care for the sick.  Moreover, the Grand Forks community, an important support network for the university, suffered at least as grievously as the university campus.  By mid-October Grand Forks reported over 3000 cases of the flu and on campus 320 of the 470 cadets were ill.  Tragically, 29 of these students would die and Geiger reports that no other university campus had a worse record (p. 298).  In contrast, the Agricultural College in Fargo had far fewer cases and deaths despite having a larger number of SATC students; the quick acting Dean of the Medical School, Harley E. French, took decisive measures to prevent the spread of the flu among campus women (who were organized and housed separately from the SATC).  One died, but far fewer were ill.

The upshot of the flu tragedy on the University of North Dakota's campus was significant. Orin G. Libby, the noted historian, had served as the chair of the University's War Committee and had worked alongside President Kane to bring to make the arrangements necessary to accommodate the SATC on campus.  Libby, whose feathers had been ruffled already by Kane's impolitic speech at his inauguration, placed the blame for the tragic student deaths squarely on Kane's shoulders.   In 1920, Libby joined a group of faculty members including John M. Gillette, perhaps the most well-regarded and influential member of the university faculty during the first half of the 20th century, to call for Kane's removal.  Kane for his part rallied support from Vernon Squires (who would later write the first history of the university) and, perhaps significantly, Dean French of the Medical School.  The precise details of this conflict have been lost, but it attracted sufficient attention from various university stakeholders to compromise in a serious way both Kane's and Libby's ability to serve as campus leaders.  Libby and the Department of History, in particular, suffered at the hands of Kane as they clashed repeatedly throughout the early years of the 1920s (for more the Kane-Libby clashes see my three-part series: Politics and the Presidency at UND: Reflections on the Past at the Dawn of a New Era, part 1, part 2, part 3)

Stay healthy, UND!

Friday Varia and Quick Hits

A gaggle of links on a balmy Friday afternoon.  (As my wife would say, this is cricket weather).

• Introducing the work of Daniel Sauerwein, UND M.A. and Ph.D. student and blogger extraordinary:
  • Civil War History 
  • Frontier Battles (a colonial history blog) 
  • Military History Blog
• For any of my coastal friends out there, if you want to get a feeling for where I live, read this guys blog, which has not become syndicated (so to speak) at The Awl.
• For another view of my colleagues, go over to the Institute for Philosophy and Public Life Why? Radio Show page and listen to the last three episodes:
  • Paul Sum: My faculty mentor during my first year at UND.
  • Mark Jendrysik: My "go to" guy for all things political theory related.
  • Crystal Alberts: The center of the Working Group in Digital and New Media.
• Another colleague rapidly achieving rock-star status is our Civil War historian, Eric Burin, who will appear in PBS's History Detectives on Monday night at 8 pm (CST).  Here's more.
• For all my UND Faculty readers out there (and everyone else as well) go check out Teaching Thursday as you put the finishing touches on your Fall 2009 courses.
• If you don't already, you should follow me on Twitter.

Some exciting announcements next week (well, maybe not this exciting, but still).

Friday Varia and Quick Hits

Just a gaggle of quick hits for your enjoyment:

• News came this week that John Mering has passed away.  Mering taught in the Department of History from 1968-1970.  He received his Ph.D. at the University of Missouri which had strong ties to UND.  A UND History alumnus served as Missouri's president from 1955-1963 and had already produced Louis Geiger, one of the most important faculty members in the Department of History and at the University in the postwar period.  Mering taught 19th century U.S. history at UND before moving on to the University of Arizona in 1969.  He was replaced by Thomas Howard, an IU graduate who would serve on UND's faculty for many years.
• Last month the Princeton Review released its various lists.  The University of North Dakota appeared on two of the better known; it ranked 18th on the list of the top party schools and 5th on the list of schools where students study the least.  While on the surface, these are not particularly promising areas to receive high marks.  But when we look at our peer institutions on this list, it is really quite striking.  First, the top 20 party schools list is made up 3 types of institutions: major state universities (Penn State (1), Florida (2), Georgia (4), West Virginia (6), Texas (7), Wisconsin (8)).  In any other context many of these schools would be good schools to find as one's peers.  These schools have powerful Division 1 sports traditions, stand as the "flagship universities in their respective states, have good academics and graduate programs, have Carnegie Basic Classificiation of Research University/Very High Research (UND, West Virginia (6), Ohio University (5)and UCSB (10) have basic classifications of Research University/High Research)  , and have large and vibrant student bodies.  In fact, the top 10 party schools are all at least 50% larger than UND.  The second group of schools are the three liberal arts colleges: Union College (NY), DePauw University (IN), Sewanee: The University of the South (TN).  These are all competitive and well-established liberal arts colleges with student bodies under 2,500.  Again, if this were any other list, it would be an honor to rank among these school.  Some of the same observations can be applied to the list of schools where students study the least.  To my mind, the real issue is not whether our students study enough (many clearly study plenty) or whether they party enough, but how did it happen that UND ranked in these categories?  Princeton review bases their rankings on a survey conducted through their website by students (as well as information from the university administration).  So, it's not just that someone thinks UND is a party school, but someone cared enough to participate in a survey that produced these rankings.  The student willingness to participate in a survey must account for something and it seems like this energy could be parsed and analyzes in a positive way.  After all, it's not every day that UND ranks among the school on this list in anything.
• My parents are in town and we visited Chuck Kimmerle's fantastic exhibit at the North Dakota Museum of Art called "An Unapologetic Landscape."  It was fantastic!  Kimmerle, who is also the University photographer, was able to capture both the clear, sharp, and vivid qualities of North Dakota light as well as the subtle and austere character of the North Dakota countryside.  It's a must see for anyone interested in landscapes.
• The fourth test in the Ashes started this morning and before I got out of bed, England was 42/3.  By the time I was done this post, England was 72/6 at lunch.  A good start for Australia.

You are here.

On the doorjam of the North Dakota Museum of Art.

Grand Forks in July

A walk down an alley.

Spring in Grand Forks

Under Libby's Gaze: Merrifield 300

The big lecture hall in Merrifield Hall at the University of North Dakota is Merrifield 300.  It seat right around 150 students and is an almost a living museum of different pedagogical insights and movements.

Theater style seating establishes an immutable relationship between the student and the teacher. 

 

The front of the room is crowded with the latest in visual teaching aids from the last 50 years: chalkboards, televisions, maps (of course), overhead video projector screens, media center, but oddly no podium.  It's impossible, for example, to put your lecture notes down on the media island and refer to them in a comfortable way.  It's also impossible to use both the chalkboards and the moveable screen.  I've never used the televisions, but their "olde skool", tube-tv, appearances do not inspire confidence.  The doors open directly into the orchestra so the first part of class is always interrupted as late arrivals seek to slip inconspicuously by the lecturer and situate themselves in the auditorium.  It's a wonder that more theaters aren't designed in this way.

 

These complaints aside the room has a certain charm.  I realized that last night will likely be my last night teaching my Western Civilization I survey in this classroom.  The auditorium in our new building will have its own character, I am sure, but it will almost certainly lack the bizarre, orange-patterned carpet on the walls. Whether this was designed to calm the students, fill them with eagerness to learn, or simply deter them from looking at anything other than the lecturer in front of the room, is anybody's guess.  The photo below preserves one of my favorite features of Merrifield 300, the dark right corner.  This corner of the room is always packed with students, hoping, I suppose, that the lack of light makes them less visible to their classmates and the instructor.

This is the final room of my Merrifield Hall farewell tour.  (Check out Room 215, Room 217, Room 209, and the hallways of Merrifield) Friday afternoon, I begin to pack up my office and hope to have it reasonably squared away before my impending departure for Cyprus. Merrifield Hall has been the home of the Department of History for over 80 years at the University of North Dakota, an admirable tenure for any department in any building.  Most of the Department's notable graduates studied in its rooms, the most productive faculty in the Department's history worked in its offices, and the rooms, hallways, and offices bear witness to research practices, student habits, and teaching techniques of the building's long history.  Documenting some of the spaces and places in Merrifield hall has revealed the accumulated traces of practice from its long history.  By midsummer, we will begin to process of inscribing the new building with the evidence for our activities, habits, and routines.