Rain Killed The Digging Star

What would have been a fruitful dig has been shattered by rainstorms. I am leaving New York without the big fancy lights or extended goodbyes, just broken memories. There will be no spotlights zigzagging in the sky as I arrive at the airport in Richmond either. No limousine or entourage waiting at the gate cheering for the “fastest digger”. I will have a quiet morning arrival and a lengthy wait for a carpool.
My life is slowly being snuffed out by the rain. Being a Digging Star isn’t that cracked up to what its portrayed to be. I have watched four of my comrades leave, each in their own fashion and glory. Kelly had a mock wedding farewell – a concocted trowel sendoff to the theme of a movie that should make all archaeologists cringe by the lasting affect of misrepresentation of the practice. While Patrice left us a day deep into the dig for personal reasons, we all wish him the best and hopes that he would magically be waiting for us in the second leg of the tour- Virginia. Isabel has flown the coup and awaits us in our new home and Susan has retired her trowel early for the joy of witnessing a union of two.
As for me, I am not sure if there will be Frank Sinatra playing in the background; I haven’t done things my way. I will probably leave in the same melancholy way our mystery voles died. Syracuse has poured so much rain it’s very likely I could drown as well. With flat trowel in right hand and clipboard in other, I climb into our freshly dug unit spawning five levels deep and curl into fetal position while the rains come in torrents at first then wane off and on erasing my name as each storm passes in the sky. I am slowly disappearing (and the newspaper does no justice to validate my existence or historical archaeology for that matter).
Being a bonified Digging Star has altered my perception on archaeology. I envisioned the sweet life of being a “made archaeologist” after touring. Being a “made archaeologist,” would entitle me to designated sifters, while I kneeled beautifully on my engraved pad scrapping the earth and gently brushing the soil for shards of ceramics peeking up after years of hiding. At the blink of an eye I would be the taskmaster, issuing out suicide missions, banishing them to different parts of the continent like Siberia, where there was rarely an artifact and definitely no protection from the elements. They would only call for my attention when they found something other than coal. However, I could join the neophytes whenever I chose and disappear whenever I wanted. Was it all a dream? Wishful thinking I tell myself over and over again.
I’ve been in the most somber moods, playing Elliot Smith and Radiohead on repeat. I think I am experiencing “diggers withdrawal”. I wonder how bad it will get when school starts in August? I must work in the lab processing the artifacts, watching my babies carefully in the fall.
For now I will try to conjure up those unforgettable memories in Fayetteville. The cool blue Collegiate Schwinn bikes that was apart of a regular routine of speeding down Clinton St. to where the road curves to the right with a downward bend, mind you on a flat tire all the while. Or the bummed mission to find an air pump during our lunch break, which never happened. I thought gas stations still had air pumps? Apparently not. The annoying Target trips weren’t so bad after all. I usually stayed in the car and ruled the radio station for the half hour. Returning home seeing everyone’s dirty faces after a day in the fields was amusing. If we only brought along stencils we would have the best body art. The most memorable is Kim jumping curbs in the mystery machine, which could be felt especially if you sat in the back row. Furthermore, having the experience of watching multiple generations of archaeologists stretching from the early years at Syracuse University to present day at Berkeley gather to teach us youngsters some history lessons was amazing. The hospitality of the people that aided us in our adventures is truly appreciated and will not be forgotten. Thank you all.
Mesha Adams UC Berkeley 08

End Thoughts

These last three weeks have gone by so quickly…This past week the field crew has been busily working on our last pits. Each of us digging away and making tremendous progress as we go. Throughout the three weeks, we have had five to six visitors (not including school groups) stop by and show interest in our archaeological project. . In particular, there is a mom who frequently stops by with her children and helps with the excavation and watches us sift material. It is amazing how enthusiastic these kids are.

Earlier this week, a reporter and a photographer stopped by, interviewed a couple of us and talked with Kim (Graduate Student teacher) about the excavation. It was great that he was so interested and hopefully more media input will help spark public awareness in archaeological sites like ours. Archaeology is what keeps the past alive and is very important to each one of the students involved in the program.
So far during this leg of our adventure I have enjoyed working with my classmates. I have enjoyed traveling and working on the east coast all summer. I cannot wait to see what is in store for us in Virginia.

Caroline M. Stoever, Roger Williams University, 08

The late night thunderstorm keeps me up at night. By 7:00am the rain has not stopped pouring down. I make my way out of bed and into the line for bathroom access. In doing so I get ready for what I fear will be a day of little to no progress. By the time we get to the site the rain has eased off a little bit, however, the forecast for the day predicts a grim day full of scattered showers. Therefore, the field screw makes its way past the “checkerboard” that makes up our work area and into the lab.
To be honest, I feel disappointed at the fact that I will most likely spend my last couple of days in New York seeing little progress in the work I have put so much effort into completing. Although my body is begging for a day of rest, my mind argues that my arthritic hands can manage one more unit. As I make my way into the lab space, I decide that today will just have to be a day in which I get to reminisce about the curious artifacts my unit partner Mesha and I have found in the three units we have finished thus far. However, Kim (our Graduate Student Instructor) is not beaten yet. Under her instruction we bring bags of artifacts, washing basins, tooth brushes, and screens onto the porch in order to catch up with our lab work. Across the street, the second half of our field team gathers all the material that has already been washed and dried in order to start labeling and “cataloging” the material we have retrieved from the various units we have excavated thus far.
While washing artifacts is no substitute for sitting in your unit and digging your way toward exciting discoveries, it can prove to be a process of discovery in its own right. When you pull things out of the ground you have a basic idea of what it could be, what it is made of, and what it looks like. However, during the process of washing the dirt away you rediscover what you have found. It is at this point that you fully realize what you have found. One of the best examples we can point out from today’s lab work deals with a decorative gold pin. Before we washed the dirt off, this piece looked like a shabby, old pin. However, once we brushed away the dirt, we were able to appreciate its significance and its worth as an archaeological find. Thus we can see that even though lab work is not the most glamorous part of the job, it allows archaeologists to gain greater insight into the artifacts themselves as well as the broader trends within and across the units. Isabel Hernandez

Newspaper Spurs Discussion on Interpreting Archaeology

Today we buried our second casualty in the war between the rain and our units. Another vole found its way into a water filled pocket on the site and didn’t make out again. We mourn the loss. Both of the voles, and the fact that today was supposed to be our last dig day and we were evicted from the site by ornery rain.

***

Another occurrence came about today that made us all ponder about the “war” in Historical Archaeology. We were fortunate to have press coverage of our excavation this year (as Kim has in the past). We were unfortunate, in another sense, that the public has a curious tendency to see our work in a far different light that sometimes belittles the field work we do and the painstaking research that follows.

The article published in today’s “Post-Standard” ...

(read the entire article here)

... was entitled “Unearthing Historical Trash.” Sounds catchy, I suppose, but there was definitely a cringe factor from my side of the paper.

The bottom line is there is already a struggle between historical archaeologists and the public to justify their work as legitimate. This is not the case with physics or history or geology, where it’s understood and accepted (mainly because these topics are stressed in the K-12 school system we all go through).

When it comes to archaeology, people think it’s great to find dinosaurs and hidden ruins, but they have a harder time understanding why anyone would be interested in someone’s midden or privy. My boyfriend jokingly says that archaeologists are “playing in the sandbox.” I don’t think that’s too far off from where the public actually stands on the issue.

Furthermore, there seems to be an interest in preserving certain “pasts.”
An obvious example is an article that appeared below our humble claim to fame. This article was entitled “Oneida Nation teenagers dig for pieces of heritage.” An obvious deviation from what we are doing… “digging through old garbage in Fayetteville.” However, it is interesting that this is a direct comparison to what the public views as whose past is worth significance.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it was great that we had a reporter on our site for almost 2 hours talking to Kim, all of us, and looking genuinely fascinated in what we were doing, but what surprised me is how surprised he seemed at being fascinated! It’s almost as if he didn’t realize that he (or the children who were visiting us that day) could actually be interested in something that was being dug up from someone’s yard.

It makes me think that Historical Archaeology really has a long way to come before people find interest in the past 200 years outside of Colonial Williamsburg (which we are leaving for tomorrow!)... one of the Disneylands of Archaeology.

Perhaps it’s the idea that no one realizes you can learn more from the pottery, butchered bone, and bottle remains than you can from buried gold about the way someone lived. And though we all like our share of treasure, Archaeology is about the study of people and culture not a hunt to find gold dubloons.

Hopefully, the article will make people think about how we, as a public, view the profession and help get some volunteers to help Kim so she isn’t “just [her] speed-digging to get it done.”

Thanks to everyone at the Gage House and especially Kim for having us at the site. It’s been a great opportunity and I look forward to all the lab work in the Fall!

Jessica Merizan

Final Thoughts

Hey everyone, this Krissy again! This week is our last week here at the Gage house. After that everyone except Kim will be leaving to go to the other half of the field school. Kim will be finishing up the dig with the help of volunteers.
Right now I am working on my second unit with Caroline, another student. This unit is filled with tree roots, a small price to pay to be in the shade, but the unit has also been productive. Out of that unit, along with the normal shards of glass and broken sherds of ceramics, we found an almost complete bowl of a tobacco pipe. The soil is pretty hard compact clay mix with chunks of solid pink clay. Much of the time I can dig using the trowel but lately I have had to use the archaeological hand axe. One thing I have realized is that doing archaeology can really mess up your joints, especially the wrists and knees. Oh well – it’s easy to work through the pain when you are filled with the thrill of discovering that next cool artifact.
One important aspect of this project is the public outreach. In many ways this is a community project and it is important that visitors are able to come and see the progress being made. The last several days we have had many visitors, some new and others who have visited the Gage house in years past. Today, for example, we had a family with three kids who came last year, back at the site. The oldest child was nine and they were all great helpers. They helped sift out artifacts and open a new unit. I couldn’t help but notice the looks on their faces, they were so interested and excited about being able to play in the dirt and find things. Apparently there is a little fan club of sorts – kids that like to set up their own archaeology digs in their back yards. Hopefully, we have inspired them to continue their interest in archaeology.
It is surprising the reactions that we get from visitors when they hear that many of us are from the west coast. Many can’t believe that people would fly all the way across the U.S. to dig up the backyard trash in a small town. But there are some things that you just can’t do in other parts of the country. For example, with this project much of what we are excavating is the trash from the 19th century, something you could get on the west coast but the point is not location but the social trends that this Gage family was involved in at the time they tossed out the artifacts we’re finding. Both the Woman Suffrage Movement and the Abolition Movement were located primarily on the east coast and the Midwest. The Underground Railroad just did not pass through California. For me, there is no better way to learn about the history then to be where the history was made. I get a huge thrill walking in the same places at Susan B. Anthony and Harriet Tubman, which makes the five hour plane ride totally worth it. Until next time!

Krissy Montgomery

Final day musings

I do not like leaving a job half done. It is hard to think otherwise when I see the uncut sod left around so many of the grid nails. There is a lot of soil left to move just within the planned construction zone, and we have done nothing along the west side of the house except for studding little flags next to a few artifacts that were on the surface of the ground before we even arrived.
I am less bothered by that side of the house. By not disturbing the soil over there we have left something to be found for later summers. Perhaps later summers when there are better methods to try out. Our technique is pretty good but archaeology is an ever evolving field. Every so often some one comes along with a new idea or a better tool for pulling history out of the ground but those ideas and tools never get tested or used if there is nothing left to be found. Leaving the side of the house unexcavated is not an opportunity lost, it is an opportunity found.
The woodshed has to be done this summer though. The Matilda Joslyn Gage Foundation has great plans for this yard that cannot progress until this part of the excavation is complete. Seeing more progress before we stop would bring a sense of personal satisfaction, but even here this is not a loss. There will be others here to help finish what we started and it will be a good experience for them to have hands on participation in archaeology. I would certainly like to have accomplished more in my time on the project but there is no need to deprive others of this fun.

As I start to pack, things have come to a good conclusion. My reason for being here was to learn the hows and whys involved in the conduct of archaeological field work and that goal has certainly has been achieved. The excavation of the Gage House is off to a good start with more than a little something left for the volunteers participating in the coming weeks and even for projects after this season has ended. My time here has come to a close but the project is just beginning, and that is the important thing. This is about finding the untold history of this house and its occupants. As long as that continues I have done enough. It is time for me to move on and I hope you enjoy picking up where I have left off.

“its is not the beginning or the end nor is it the beginning of the end, perhaps it is the end of the beginning.” –Winston Churchill

Brian Hess

It is Tuesday morning and the field crew is busily working on what will most likely be our last pits before we head out to Williamsburg, Virginia for the second part of our field school. Each pair paces each other, making progress while remembering that we have the whole week ahead of us. So far the clouds have proven to be friendly, but the sun peaks out tauntingly playing a game of peak-a-boo. Just as we start to feel the sun upon us, we hear the little voices of our reinforcements.
For the past couple of weeks we have had the pleasure of entertaining/ educating a five-year-old girl and her younger sister. These miniature archaeologists have proven to be the best of helpers. Their eager faces and cheery voices revitalize us as they happily pick through our sifting material eager to find shiny black coal or ashy mortar. As they examine our progress during their visits, they happily indulge us as we explain what we have found and what it might mean. When we don’t have an explanation for what we have found, as was the case with our needle case, they use their “…thinking spot…” to help us come to a feasible conclusion.
However, as we look toward their family van on this particular day, we see that instead of having two helpers for the day, we have five (all between the ages of 1 and 5). Seeing how excited her children were about our project, the girls’ mom invited one of her friends and her three children to join in on the fun. The children check in with Kim (our Graduate Student Instructor) in order to see the clean material that the field crew has found since their last visit. Both familiar and new visitors gaze in wonder as Kim presents decorated ceramics, animal bones, and bottles extracted from multiple 1×1 meter pits. Once the children have had a chance to ask any question they might have about our artifacts, they proceed to go about their rounds. They comment on the appearance of our pits and rush to the screens when material is about to be sifted. In addition to all this fun, today we have a special treat in store for them. We arm them with brushes, brooms, and dustpans and let them find their own artifacts within two of our pits.
It was so endearing to see these young children so interested in our work and in the processes involved in recovering archaeologically significant material. When I was that small I don’t think I could even say the word “archaeology.” I had no idea what it was or what it meant to be an archaeologist. In elementary school I was briefly introduced to the topic as I shied away from the massive reconstructions of prehistoric dinosaurs at a local museum. I didn’t understand the significance of this type of work until I came to Berkeley and started taking classes on the subject. For this reason it intrigues me to see such young children participating in such a special project and I hope that as the word gets out, more and more children take and active role in exploring the field both in the classroom and in the field.
Isabel Hernandez, UC Berkeley

We dig (7x) the whole day through

Music of the Day: Heigh Ho from Disney’s Snow White
Diggers Log: July 13, 2007
The day dawned sunny, possibly even balmy, a good day for archaeology. It appears our luck has changed at last. Who would have thought that Friday the 13th would be the day of our liberation? This morning we made our escape from the desolate unit. Alas, we were forced to leave behind our less fortunate comrades, but really it was every man for himself, or herself, as the overwhelming demographics of our dig would attest. Already fortune has smiled upon us. We have reached our Promised Land, the land of shade and artifact rich soil, which melts beneath our trowels like butter.
Within what seemed like only moments we had unearthed our first feature: a wall! Or so we think. From there the unit would only get better as it yielded coal, small ceramic sherds, and a multitude of rusted nails. However, the best was yet to come. Our trowels first scraped upon the smooth green glass at approximately 9:58 that morning. At first it appeared to be only a small fragment of what could have been glass (or rock with our luck). As we carefully, and with a good deal of patience, scraped away the surrounding soil, we found to our delight a wine bottle of green glass. Slowly it began to take shape, with both a base and a neck emerging from the ground looking as if it was amazingly intact. Yet, as time went on we discovered we had not one bottle, but two, both largely intact. Being proper and very patient archaeologists we chose to pedestal the bottles, instead digging further down into the surrounding area. We soon discovered more flat gray stone, covering the entire base or our unit, and bringing it to a premature closure. The formal function of these stones continues to elude us, but we look toward the coming days, and the opening of neighboring units, to provide answers. Was it paving stone, foundation, or some yet undetermined combination thereof? Only time and more digging will tell.

With the closure of the rest of the unit, we were free to return to the gleaming green gems of glass which had motivated our speedy excavation thus far. We broke out our dental tools and carefully set to work, scraping the shards of glass free from their very dark grayish brown (10YR 3/2) silty loam encasement.

The bottles slowly came to light and while they were not fully intact they were glorious none the less. As we stood there basking in the glory of our most satisfying find, our peers looking on in appreciation, we thought, “Now this is Archaeology!”

Brought to you by: Laura Soules and Susan Penacho

PS: Though some may question the validity of this statement—we have at last regained our sanity.

Update Our days begin at 7 A. M. Tuesday through Saturday. At 7 A.M., everyone is rushing about the house making breakfast, brushing teeth, and getting dressed for the day. The house is in constant movement. So far, we have spent about eight days digging at the Gage house in the hot and humid weather. However, this week, the temperatures have gone down a lot compared to last week’s low 100 degree heat, to which we are all grateful. Plus, most of our units are now in the shade.
When we are not digging we take field trips around town to different historical abolitionist sites. This week we visited Petersboro, home of Gerrit Smith. Smith was a social reformer, politician, and abolitionist with the Underground Railroad. My fellow classmates and I got a wonderful opportunity to look around Smith’s old residence on Monday. Sadly, the Smith mansion is no longer standing because of fire that occurred in 1936. However, the tour around the property was still a good experience and worthwhile.

Caroline M. Stoever, Roger Williams University’ 08

Archaeology Aches

No one told me I needed to be a contortionist to to dig. The heat and humidity I knew about, this is New York in the summer. The moving of cubic meters of soil a trowelful at a time I had expected too. This is archaeology, we’re here to find artifacts and the history buried with them. Sure, there’s faster ways to dig but you lose that information when the backhoes are called in, so I’m good with going slow.
It’s the bending that gets to me.
Being wedged between a root and a unit wall, feet level with my head because they’re resting on top of the next unit, reaching under my knees to scrape away the last few centimeters of the level certainly makes you wonder if you missed something important about proper posture back in Introduction to Archaeology. It certainly does not do wonders for the back.
But some time after your last joint goes numb you start to appreciate the Why. Sure, it’d be easier to fit the dust pan into the unit if you had tossed out the big stone that’s now sitting on a soil column in the corner, but then someone two squares away says they found a stone just like it the same depth below the sod, there’s that satisfaction in knowing maybe now you’ll get to see an intact foundation carved out of the ground because you put up with digging around that stone.
Or that half bottle sitting in the paper bag next to my ear. Yeah a shovel gets you deeper, faster, but you start thinking how many thirty seconds and sixty fourths of a bottle you would have lost through the quarter inch screens if that spade had found the bottle and you sure become glad you found it with the trowel instead.
It’s the things that make the digging hard that makes this job work out well. So maybe fitting into half of a one meter hole all wrapped up like a rag doll is the thing that will help keep the history I’m sitting in intact. And that’s why I’m here. To find those little bits of tid bits of history that haven’t made it into the books but might have been tossed out the back window. It’s enough to get me to reach down a few centimeters before.
But next year I’m taking yoga before go back into the field. If I’ve got to fold myself into a half cubic meter I’m going to do it right.

Brian Hess, University of Washington Alum