~~PAPER  DRAFT-­‐-­‐DO  NOT  CITE  WITHOUT  THE  PERMISSION  OF  THE  AUTHOR~~  

 Pre-­‐Contact  archaeological  narratives  in  southern  New  England:  

Plot  in  a  discipline,  pace  and  the  past    

By  Katie  Vickers  Kirakosian  ∞∞    

Narratives  are  stories.  They  say  a  great  deal  about  the  cultures  from  which  they  originate,  

including  messages  about  deeply  held  values  and  beliefs.  Similarly,  archaeological  narratives,  or  the  

stories   that   archaeologists   tell,   say  much   about   the   discipline   and   it’s   practitioners   (Joyce   2002,  

Pluciennik   1999).   Discussions   of   archaeological   publications   as   narratives   gained   prominence   in  

the  1980s,  with  papers   such   as  Hodder’s   “Writing   archaeology:   Site  Reports   in  Context”   (Hodder  

1989)   and  more   recently  with   Fagan’s   similarly   titled   book  Writing   Archaeology:   Telling   Stories  

about   the   Past   (Fagan   2006).   This   is   still   a   rich   area   for   reflection   because   of   the   complexities  

involved  in  thinking,  writing  and  talking  about  the  archaeological  record,  which  according  to  Criado  

is  made  up  of  “three  distinct  moments  […]:  the  preexisting  social  reality,  the  physical  processes  of  

decay  and  preservation,  and  the  contemporary  act  of  reading”  (Criado  2006:  196).  

My  research  is  founded  on  the  premise  that  when  archaeologists  think,  write  and  talk  about  

the   past   (and   their   work   which   focuses   on   it),   they   do   so   in   ways   that   have   inherent   narrative  

structure.  These  narratives  can  be  compared  through  time  for  evidence  of  patterns  and  variations  

because   of   “the   different   ways   in   which   archaeological   texts   are   written   through   time”   (Hodder  

1989:   269).   For   my   dissertation,   I   am   focusing   on   a   series   of   70+   site   publications   published  

between  1861  and  2007  from  38  excavated  shell  middens  within  Cape  Cod,  Martha’s  Vineyard  and  

Nantucket,   MA.   My   data   set   also   includes   transcribed   interviews   with   11   archaeologists   (7  

academics,   2   CRM-­‐professionals   and   2   amateur   archaeologists)1.   While   the   specific   focus   of   my  

research   is   shell   midden   discourse   from   the   19th-­‐21st   centuries   on   Cape   Cod   and   the   Islands,  

broader  narrative  strands  that  radiate  from  the  discipline  are  presented  here.    

I   first   discuss   the   structures   within   archaeological   publications   that   have   correlations   to  

literary  theory  and  then  offer  a  preliminary  series  of   themes  from  the  transcribed   interviews.    As  

this  is  a  first  attempt  at  testing  and  exploring  themes  and  examples,  there  is  greater  breadth  than  

depth  at  this  early  stage  of  analysis.                                                                                                                    1  All  interviews  were  IRB-­‐approved  through  the  Department  of  Anthropology  at  the  University  of  Massachusetts  Amherst.  Considering  the  many  ethical  concerns  involved  when  working  with  interviewees  (AKA  informants  or  human  subjects),  they  will  all  be  given  pseudonyms  at  a  later  date.  Currently  all  quotations  from  interviews  are  labeled  “Anonymous”  and  numbered  1-­‐11,  where  the  number  represents  the  order  in  which  they  were  interviewed  (from  October  2010  to  October  2011).  This  also  allows  the  reader  to  differentiate  between  the  many  interviewee  perspectives.  Although  I  may  be  privileging  the  present,  I  have  intentionally  chosen  to  also  keep  the  identities  of  all  living  individuals  discussed  during  interviews  anonymous.  All  deceased  individuals  are  named,  unless  deemed  inappropriate  or  insensitive.  

  2  

A  place  for  archaeological  narratives    

I  have  sketched  twelve  main  “elements”  in  archaeological  narratives,  which  are:  

1. The  narrator  (whether  overt  or  covert)    2. The  reader  (whether  addressed  directly  or  indirectly)  

 3. The  “natural”  environment  

a. This  includes  discussions  of  the  environment  through  time,  such  as  changing  environmental  conditions  and  taphonomic  processes.  

 4. Native  people  in  the  past2  

a. This  includes  literal  discussions  of  Native  people  as  agents  of  site  formation  and  other  activities  being  actively  carried  out  by  Native  people  in  the  past.  

 5. The  “non-­‐archaeological”  world  

a. This  includes  descendant  communities,  landowners,  the  general  public,  and  other  communities  outside  of  archaeology.  

 6. The  site  

a. This  includes  known  information  about  the  site  as  a  place  on  the  landscape,  such  as  topography,  proximity  to  water,  wind  aspect,  etc.    

7. The  excavation    a. This  includes  all  information  about  the  process  of  uncovering  

material  remains,  such  as  testing  strategy,  screen-­‐size  choice,  etc.    

8. Material  culture  a. This  includes  information  about  the  artifacts,  ecofacts  and  features  

uncovered  and  examined  from  a  site  and/or  at  an  excavation.    

9. Other  archaeological  site  locations  a. This  includes  discussions  which  reference  archaeological  sites  and  

excavations  regardless  of  proximity  to  the  site  that  is  the  primary  focus  of  the  narrative.  

 10. Historical  figures  and  groups  

a. This  includes  discussions  that  reference  historical  figures  (i.e.  Roger  Williams)  and  historical  groups  (i.e.  the  Pilgrims).  

 11. Archaeologists  

a. This  includes  information  about  the  practitioners  of  archaeology,  such  as  professional  archaeologists  and  amateur  archaeologists.  

 12. The  discipline  of  archaeology    

a. This  includes  discussions  related  to  the  “culture”  of  archaeology,  such  as  discipline-­‐specific  jargon  and  the  many  methodological,  paradigmatic,  theoretical  and  legal  shifts.  

                                                                                                               2  As  my  dissertation  focuses  on  Pre-­‐Contact  Native  American  sites,  all  examples  here  focus  on  Native  people  in  the  past.  Whether  Contact  or  Historic-­‐period  narratives  fit  in  this  model  is  not  considered  or  theorized.  

  3  

While   these   dozen   “elements”   figure   centrally   in   archaeological   narratives,   few   have   considered  

how  they  come  together  to  form  a  plot.    

Every  narrative  has  both  a   story  and  plot,  where   the   former   is   the   chronological  order   of  

events  and  the  latter,  “a  set  of  events  related  by  causation”  (Keen  2004:  73).  In  a  famous  example,  E.  

M.  Forster  explains,  “The  king  died  and  then  the  queen  died  is  a  story.  The  king  died  and  the  queen  

died  of  grief  is  a  plot”.    He  continues  that,  “If  it  is  in  a  story  we  say  ‘and  then’?  If  it  is  in  a  plot  we  ask  

‘why’?”  (Forster  2002).    

 

Site  life  histories  and  archaeocentric  displays  

 

Some  narratives  focus  more  heavily  on  story  or  character,  while  others  focus  a  great  deal  of  

attention  to  plot.  Archaeologists  spend  a  majority  of  their  time  focusing  on  the  story,  “and  then  we  

excavated  a  unit,  and  then  we  found  a  feature  and  then  we  found  these  artifacts  while  screening”.  

Archaeologists   focus   less   attention   on   plot   or   character,   although   within   the   genre   of   journal  

articles  the  plot  can  be  prominent.  

When  a   reader  asks   this  very  question   “why”,   two  plots  will  unfold   (although   to  different  

degrees)   within   most   publications.   One   plot   explains   why   Native   people   were   at   a   particular  

location,  while  the  other  focuses,  conversely,  on  why  archaeologists  were  there.  With  many  of  the  

site   publications   that   I   analyzed,   there  was   a   relationship   between   these   two  plots,   although   the  

length  and  frequency  of  time  that  Native  groups  spent  at  a  site  did  not  necessarily  correlate  with  the  

amount   of   time   that   archaeologists   spent   there.   There   is   a   relationship   between   these   two   plots  

however   because   quite   literally   if   Native   people   did   not   stay   at   a   location   (or   for   very   long),  

archaeologists   would   also   likely   not   stay   at   a   location   at   all   (or   for   very   long).   While   the  

“archaeological  plot”  is  often  contingent  on  the  initial  plot,  it  is  often  foregrounded.  

The   “archaeological   plot”   generally   opens   a   publication,   as   the   reader   learns   that   looting,  

erosion   or   construction   threatened   the   site.   However,   archaeological   plots   are   often   sidestepped  

when   it   was   really   field   school   students   needing   training,   graduate   students   needing   degrees   or  

academics   needing   tenure.   These   truths   may   be   made   more   palatable   to   a   reader,   if   the  

archaeological  plot  is  couched  as  focusing  on  an  interesting,  important  or  unique  site  although  that  

was  probably  not  decided  until  during   or  after   the   actual   excavation.  The  other  plot,   focusing  on  

why  Native  people  created  the  site  in  the  first  place  is  not  fully  unpacked  until  the  middle  or  the  end  

of  a  publication,  such  as  within  the  results,  discussion  and/or  conclusion.  It  is  too  early  to  theorize  

about  the  effects,  if  any,  that  such  “plot  flanking”  has  on  readers  (and  writers).  Nevertheless,  this  is  

  4  

one   example   of   a   larger   trend   that   I   see   in   archaeological   publications,  which   is   a   foregrounding  

(and  perhaps  even  a  privileging)  of  the  discipline  f  archaeology  and  the  present.    

Also,  after  analyzing  dozens  of  publications,  I  was  struck  by  the  (unanticipated)  realization  

that  upon  close  examination,  what  seemed  logically  to  be  all  about  the  past  was  only  superficially  

so,  as  so  much  of  every  publication  is  really  about  the  present  and  the  experience  of  the  past  in  the  

present.  Archaeological  narratives  spend  much  more  time  discussing  the  rationale  and  process  of  

archaeology  then  they  tend  to  actually  discuss  the  people  and  actions  that  created  the  sites   in  the  

first   place.   Perhaps   this   is   not   the   role   of   archaeology   or   a   place   for   archaeologists   to   situate  

themselves,  but  I  think  this  is  an  area  rich  for  discussion  and  debate.  

Through  the  increased  professionalization  of  archaeology  and  the  use  of  technology  within  

the   discipline,   the   percentage   of   a   publication   that   focuses   on   the   archaeology   (and/or   the  

excavation)   has   increased   much   more   dramatically   than   any   other   area   of   discussion.   While   I  

absolutely   understand   the   need   for   technical   descriptions,   especially   with   site   reports,   is   this  

necessary   or   even   appropriate   in   every   case?   At   the   session   “Against   Objectivized   Subjects:  

Alternative   Narratives   in   Archaeology”   at   the   2011   Society   for   American   Archaeology   meetings,  

discussant   Douglass   Bailey   called   for   a   turn   away   from   the   usage   of   “crutches”   in   archaeology,  

which   he   described   as   “the   first   three   chapters   which   give   us   so   much   background   so   as   to   be  

confident  enough  to  say  the  final  three  chapters”  (Bailey  2011).  While  I  know  this  is  not  feasible  or  

appropriate  in  many  instances,  Bailey’s  call  for  more  experimentation  and  bravado  is  fitting.  

Disparate  durations  

 

Since   there   is   such   a  disproportionate  discussion  of   the  discipline  of   archaeology   and   the  

excavation  in  most  archaeological  publications,  I  focus  here  on  these  narrative  strands.  To  borrow  

another   literary   term,   the   duration   of   these   discussions   in   archaeological   narratives   are   quite  

disproportionate,  where  duration  refers   to   the  ratio  between  how  long  events   took  to  unfold  at  a  

site   and  how  much   text   is  devoted   to   them.    The  narrative   tempo  often  expands  or  pauses  when  

discussing  an  excavation  whereas  the  tempo  surrounding  the  past  would  be  deemed  a  summary  or,  

even  worse,  a  gap  to  literary  theorists.   In  essence,  the  events  that  might  have  occurred  at  the  site  

for   millennia   are   summarized   in   a   page   or   a   chapter,   whereas   the   events   that   occurred   at   an  

excavation   over   several  weeks,  months   or   years,   are   discussed   page   after   page   (or   chapter   after  

chapter).  When  narratives  focus  so  heavily  on  archaeology  and  archaeologists,  Native  people  in  the  

past   as   well   as   Contemporary   Native   people   are   often   made   “flat   characters”.   They   are   easily  

forgettable,  even  allowing  historical  erasure  to  repeat  on  the  page.    

  5  

Exploring  narrative  themes  

 

To  date  I  have  coded  a  series  of  nine  themes  from  the  transcribed  interviews.  They  are:    

� Assumptions  (AKA  biases)  about  the  past/the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Change/Stasis  within/outside  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Connections/Disconnections  within  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Control  of  the  field/the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Experiences  within/outside  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Impressions  (AKA  outlook)  of  the  past/the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Knowledge  within  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Struggles/coping  within  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

� Success/failure  within  the  discipline  of  archaeology  

 

Although  space  does  not  allow  me  to  go  into  great  detail  with  each  theme,  I  offer  several  examples.  

 

Assumptions:  Byers  opens  a  short  article  “On  the  Interpretation  of  Faunal  Remains”  by  cautioning,  

“remember  that  in  nature  living  beings  are  not  subject  to  marshalling  behind  sharply  defined  limits,  

but  will  almost  inevitably  be  found  outside  the  accepted  ‘range’”  (Byers  1951:  262).  While  he  was  

referring   to  non-­‐humans  as   the   “living  beings”,   such  as   the  quahog   that   can   live   in   colder  waters  

than  originally  thought;   I  would  extend  this  to  human  beings  as  well,  who  will  also  frequently  act  

“outside   of”   predetermined   “ranges”   placed   upon   them.   Assumptions   about   how   humans   should  

and  did  act  in  the  past  inhabit  and  inhibit  archaeological  narratives.  Examples  of  assumptions  about  

Native  people  relate  to  their  assumed  savage,  lazy,  violent,  child-­‐like,  animal-­‐like,  and/or  machine-­‐

like  nature.  Overt  examples  (see  Figure  1,  page  15)  are  seen  in  early  publications,  such  as  a  within  

Scientific  American  (1862),  in  which  an  anonymous  author  refers  to  “The  Indian  [as]  a  mere  child  

when  compared  with  the  masters  of  modern  science”  (Anonymous  1862:  170).    

A  second  example  of  assumptions  can  be  traced  quite  deeply,  showing  how  narratives  can  

be  “echoes”  from  the  field  (Joyce  2002).  The  following  passage  from  Ritchie’s  (1969)  seminal  book  

The  Archaeology  of  Martha’s  Vineyard  has  always  struck  me  as  rather  presumptuous.  Intentionally  

quoted  in  its  entirety  below,  this  passage  illustrates  an  important  point:    

On  the  bottom  lay  the  fully  articulated  skeleton  of  an  immature  dog  of  a  small  breed,  on  its  right   side,   facing   west.   Its   limbs   were   askew,   its   head   slightly   thrown   back,   and   its   tail  vertebrae  were  entirely  missing.   It   seems   to  not  have  been  a  burial   like   that  at   the  nearby  Pratt   site   (see   page   71),   but   a   skinned   carcass   thrown   carelessly   on   the   pit   floor,   then  covered  with   a   thin  mantle   of   refuse-­‐-­‐broken   quahog   shells,   deer   and   fish   bones   in   black  

  6  

sand.  A  Rossville  point,  possibly  the  instrument  of  death,  lay  in  this  refuse  between  the  dog’s  ribs.  The  same  1-­‐inch  layer  yielded  a  small  body  sherd  of  grit-­‐tempered  pottery  with  corded  exterior  and  much-­‐eroded  interior  surface,  suggesting  a  sherd  of  Vinette  1  type.  

Directly  over  the  dog  skeleton,  and  completely  filling  the  pit,  was  a  compact  mass  of  cobbles,   6  or  more   inches   in  diameter,   all   bearing  evidence  of   intense  heat  by   their   ruddy  color  and  crumbly  texture.  Since  there  was  no  trace  of  fire  in  situ,  but  marked  scorching  was  present  on  the  upper  surface  of  some  of  the  dog  bones,  it  appeared  that  the  stones  had  been  heated  elsewhere.  As  the  skeleton  was  in  perfect  order  and  the  bones  intact   it  would  seem  that   the   hot   stones   had   been   placed   upon   a   carcass   rather   than   a   skeleton.   The   missing  caudal  vertebrae  suggest  a  flayed  body.  It  is,  however,  impossible  to  decide  whether  the  find  represented  an  unrecovered  meal  of  roast  dog  in  an  earth  over,  or  an  assemblage  for  some  special  purpose  [Ritchie  1969:  138]      

While   visiting   the   New   York   State  Museum   in   Albany   this   summer,   I   reviewed   the   original   field  

notes   for   this   feature   (see  Figure  2,  page  16).   They  were  written  by   a   graduate   student  who  was  

likely   the   sole   excavator   and   later  marked   by   Ritchie,   which   seems   to   be   his   custom.  When   the  

student’s   word   choice   (within   his   fieldnotes)   is   highlighted   over   Ritchie’s   book   passage,   the  

correlation  between  narratives  is  striking  (see  Figure  3,  page  17).  

Assumptions  within  archaeology  have  made  some  uncomfortable  within  the  discipline  early  

in   their   education.   As   one   interviewee   explained,   he   became   uncomfortable   while   in   graduate  

school  because  “ancient  period  people  were  being  conceptualized  by  processual  archaeologists  out  

of  their  humanity.  Not  things  like  ‘Oh  no  the  Younger  Dryas.  It’s  drying  up,  so  I  am  going  to  change  

my   projectile   point   style”   (Anonymous   9,   personal   communication).   Models   of   human   behavior,  

such   as   the   optimal   foraging   theory   even   offended   this   hard-­‐working   interviewee   and   as   he  

explains  “I  question  the  very  basis  of  optimal  foraging  or  the  unwarranted  assumption  that  people  

are   inherently   lazy   and   will   give   the   least   amount   of   energy   effort”   (Anonymous   9,   personal  

communication).    

Change/stasis:   While   archaeologists   have   thought   about   change   and   stasis   in   the   past,  

similar  forces  have  been  at  play  within  the  discipline  itself.  At  the  R.S  Peabody  Museum,  changing  

the  system  of  recording  and  documenting  sites  seems  to  have  been  an  easy  one  

The   only   thing   you   knew  about   the   collection  was  what   state   it  was   from  not   the  site.  Byers  changed  that  subsequently  because  when  they  dug  a  site  they  recorded  it  thoroughly.   In   fact   I-­‐I   know   this   because  Byers   told  me  because   I  was   asking  him  about   how  did  um   the  maps   that   are   in   this   case   how  did   the   system   for   keeping  track  of  the  sites  uh  come  about.  Well  the  answer  was  that  uh  Elmer  Harp  was  uh  at  Dartmouth  college  the  only  professor  that  I  know  of  at  Dartmouth  uh  in  archeology  and  he  uh  dug  sites  on  the  Arctic  and  um  Labrador  and  so  forth  and  he  was  a  good  friend  of  Doug  Byers  so  Doug  asked  him  how-­‐how  do  you  keep-­‐  what  is  the  system  that  you  use  to  keep  a  record  of  the  sites?  So  that  became  a  uh  a  lecture  from  Elmer  Harp  to  Doug  Byers  and  that's  the  system  that   is  on  the  maps  here  [Anonymous  4,  personal  communication].  

  7  

Today   even   changing   a   line   on   a   site   form   can   be   difficult.   It  may   not   even   be  worth   the  

trouble  because,   as  one   interviewee  explained,   “you  need  a  public  hearing  because   the   forms  are  

embedded  as  part  of   the  regulations”  (Anonymous  9,  personal  communication).  As  a  result,  many  

site   forms   likely   stay   the   same   regardless   of   the   desire   for   improvement.  When   discussing   state  

standards  and  expectations  for  site  reports,  one  interviewee  reflected  that  in  his  opinion  that  little  

had  changed  within  the  tradition  of  report  writing  over  the  past  80  years.  As  for  stasis,  he  said,  “I  

hate   standardization.   It   is   a   straightjacket   on   creativity.   If   you   standardize   you   never   advance”  

(Anonymous  9,  personal  communication).  

As  mentioned  previously,  while  the  lengths  of  reports  have  certainly  changed,  many  do  have  

similar  sections,  such  as  Introduction,  Environmental  overview  and  Field  results.  The  ways  in  which  

larger  changes  in  the  discipline  (whether  paradigmatic,  theoretical,  methodological  or  legal)  show  

up   in  publications   is   also  quite   interesting.  For  example,  while   in  1941  an  archaeologist   said   “No  

burials  were  found”  (Brooks  1941:  15)  in  1997  archaeologists  say  “No  burials  or  sacred  items  were  

uncovered  at  this  site”  (Shafer  and  Herbster  1997:  cii)  and  finally  in  2001  “No  human  remains  were  

identified  during  the  field  excavation  portion  of  the  site  examination”  (Herbster  2001:  n.p).  I  believe  

these  shifts   illustrate  changes   in  archaeological  discourse,  where   in  1997  phrases  such  as  “sacred  

items”  began  to  enter  more  readily  into  post-­‐NAGPRA  discussions.  Interpretations  have  continued  

to   expand   and   become   more   and   more   subtle.   As   we   see   here   the   phrase   “human   remains”  

increasingly   replaces   “human   burial”,   as   “human   burial”   is   more   narrowly   focused   and   open   to  

interpretation  (as  “burial”  implies  intentionality  while  “remains”  implies  presence  versus  absence).  

 

Connections/Disconnections:  This  theme  has  been  one  of  the  most  striking  and  interesting  

to  trace.  Many  authors  and  interviewees  spoke  to  the  importance  and  effect  of  human  connections  

in   the   present.   Young   archaeologists   are   mentored   and   encouraged   by   those   that   are   more  

established:  

• They  “were  of  course  crucial.  And  they  were  extremely  encouraging  and  thy  helped  me  get  a  full  ride  scholarship”  (Anonymous  6,  personal  communication)    

• He  “was  my  mentor.  He  taught  me  how  to  dig!  And  he  taught  me  what  archaeology  was  all  about  in  a  formal  way”  (Anonymous  4,  personal  communication).  

 

One  interviewee  is  even  now  a  well-­‐respected  archaeologist  in  another  continent  because  a  faculty  

member  saw  him  in  the  hallway  one  day  and  said:  “Want  to  come  with  me”?  While  this  might  seem  

insignificant,   these   connections   become   foundational   for   each   generation   of   scholars   who   then  

continue   the   same   cycle.   Theoretical   leanings,   field   techniques   and   mentoring   strategies,   are  

  8  

inherited   in   some   respects   and   these   genealogies   can   be   traced   quite   far   back,   where   many  

archaeologists   today   are   only   5-­‐7   generations   removed   from   Jeffries  Wyman,   appointed   the   first  

Curator  of  Harvard’s  Peabody  Museum  of  Archaeology  and  Ethnology  in  1866.    

There  are  patterns  surrounding  researcher  “disconnections”  as  well.  When  one  interviewee  

wrote  a  watershed  paper  against  a  well-­‐known  researcher’s  method  for   lithic  analysis,   they  knew  

that  not  citing  a  particular  individual  spoke  loudly  too  based  on  the  following  reflection:  we  “had  a  

different   way   of   looking   at   things   and   we   could   see   connections   all   over   the   east   that   [he]   had  

missed   entirely   but   we   didn't   bother   saying   that-­‐-­‐   just   you   just   don't   cite   him”   (Anonymous   6,  

personal  communication).  

 

Control:  I  was  not  particularly  surprised  to  see  discussions  surrounding  the  need  for  control  

in   the   field,  but  when  and  how   this   theme  embodied  other  discussions  was  not   anticipated.  CRM  

site  reports  are  turning  out  to  be  a  very  unique  genre  in  terms  of  control,  or  perhaps  a  genre  that  

more   overtly   embodies   this   theme.   When   Berggren   and   Hodder   (2003)   reflected   on   contract  

archaeology,   they   saw   “a   social   divide  between   the  people  who  produced   the  data   by   excavating  

them   and   those   who   were   to   interpret   them”   (Berggren   and   Hodder   2003:   423).   Field-­‐specific  

social   relations  within  CRM  are  a   fascinating  area  of   interest,  which  make  a  clear  narrative  mark.  

Ironically,   “the   more   archaeological   knowledge   one   had,   the   further   away   from   the   actual  

excavation  one  was  placed  in  the  hierarchy”  (Berggren  and  Hodder  2003:  424).  Much  of  this  does  

not  go  unnoticed,  and  although  I  am  yet  to  corroborate  a  colleague’s  story,  in  some  CRM  firms  the  

field  technicians  are  allowed  two  initials  while  the  PIs  were  allowed  three  on  all  paperwork.    

Two  other  interviewees  discussed  feeling  “powerless”  or  “out  of  control”.  One  reflected,  “We  

don’t   have   the   power   to   deny   a   proposal   except   for   properties   with   preservation   restrictions”  

showing   potential   limitations   (Anonymous   9,   personal   communication).   Members   of   the   public  

sometimes   approached   this   interviewee,   hoping   that   he  was   able   to   help   control   an   issue.   As   he  

explains,   “Sometimes  members  of   the  public  come  to  us  because  they  have  an  agenda   issue.  They  

don’t  want  to  see  an  area  developed”  (Anonymous  9,  personal  communication).    

Another  interviewee  seemed  to  be  frustrated  and  threatened  by  his   lack  of  power  and  the  

increased   power   of   local  Native   communities.  He   reflects   at   the   end   of   his   interview   “I   think   if   I  

were  gonna  do  archaeology  [here]   I'd  prefer  to  do  the  archeology  of  early  Europeans  because   it's  

much  less  complicated  by  the  Native  population  which  is  actually  pretty  well  got  archaeology  here  

ground  to  a  halt.   […]  nobody  minds  the  Native  people  becoming  empowered  it's   just  what  you  do  

with  that  power  when  you  get  it”  (Anonymous  5,  personal  communication).  According  to  him,  the  

  9  

empowerment  of  local  Native  groups  was  affecting  archaeologists’  abilities  to  work  in  the  area.  He  

does  anticipate  another  shift  in  the  discipline  though,  concluding  that  “but  that's  life  you  know.  It'll  

come   around   again   and   another   generation   will   be   allowed   to   dig”   (Anonymous   5,   personal  

communication).  This   exchange  offers   a   rich  area   for   reflection,   as   this   interviewee  paints   a   very  

different  picture  of  the  state  of  archaeology  in  the  Northeast.  According  to  him,  Native  people  are  

not  “allowing”  archaeologist  to  dig,  which  many  know  to  be  false.    

 

Impressions:   Many   impressions   have   surfaced   thus   far.   Some   surround   Native   life   while  

other   interviewees   spoke   openly   about   their   impressions   of   the   discipline   of   archaeology.   For  

example,  when  discussing  daily  Native  life  on  Cape  Cod  and  the  Islands,  one  interviewee  concluded  

“Well   they’re   not   throwing   their   dirty   old   shellfish   in   their   house”   (Anonymous   2,   personal  

communication).  Here  the   impression   is   that  shellfish  are  dirty  and   logically  Native  people  would  

not  keep  them  in  their  homes.    

Ross   Moffett   also   reflected   on   the   cleanliness   of   Native   homes.   He   was   an   amateur  

archaeologist   actively   collecting   on   the   Cape   and   leading   excavations   with   the   Massachusetts  

Archaeological   Society   (MAS)   until   the   1960s.   He   presented   a   lecture   entitled   “Prehistoric  

Americans”   in   Provincetown   in   1953.   Amazingly   while   collecting   primary   documents   at   the   R.S.  

Peabody  Museum   in   Andover   this   past  May,   I   came   across   this   lecture,  when   I   found   his   7-­‐page  

hand-­‐edited   paper   still   with   a   large   envelope.   Moffett   started   work   in   1944   on   the   Holden   site,  

which  was  a  heavily  looted  shell  “heap”.  He  interpreted  one  area  here  as  a  “blackened”  living  floor.  

In  offering  a  narrative  to  explain  the  archaeological  record,  he  reflected  that:  

 

 

  10  

This  narrative  sample,  worked  out  by  Moffett  58  years  ago,  offers  an  impression  of  Provincetown  

gender  roles  and  presumably,  by  extension,  that  of  Pre-­‐Contact  Native  women  and  men.  While  this  

offers   a   fascinating   glimpse   into   the   past,   it   is   certainly   one   that   says   perhaps   a   great   deal  more  

about  the  1950s  than  any  other  period.  

  An  impression  offered  by  many  interviewees  related  to  the  perceived  or   literal  ownership  

for   sites   and   artifacts   after   excavation   by   amateurs   or   professional   archaeologists.   While   this  

“ownership”   runs   the   gamut   of   literal   to   subliminal   ownership,   it   is   sometimes   easily   spotted  

because  of   the  use  of  possessive  pronouns.  For  example,  one   interviewee  refers   to  archaeologists  

“possessing”   the  sites   that   they  excavated  on   two  separate  occasions.   In  one  passage,  he  says  she  

“would   identify   it   in   her   cremation   burials”   (Anonymous   1,   personal   communication).   The   same  

interviewee   continues   a   bit   later   that,   “working   with   [him]   would   be   useful   because   he   was   a  

Prehistoric  archaeologist  and  […]  he  had  this  site”  (Anonymous  1,  personal  communication).    

When  the  wife  of  an  amateur  archaeologist  that  I  interviewed  walked  into  the  room,  he  said  

“We  found  those  letters…remember  when  he  threw  everything  across  the  floor  and   ‘they’re  mine,  

they’re  mine’”  (Anonymous  3,  personal  communication).  This  impression  of  ownership  extended  to  

the  collection  in  his  home,  as  he  also  informed  me  that  he  wanted  to  “get  them  in  a  museum  some  

day.  They  are  in  my  will”  (Anonymous  3,  personal  communication)3.  Although  personally  painful  to  

imagine,   even   human   remains   have   been   considered   the   literal   property   of   some   amateur  

archaeologists,  as  the  same  interviewee  recalled  that  “One  of  my  friends,  when  he  died  his  wife  gave  

me   a   box   of   human   bones   […]   and   I   took   it   out   and   buried   it”   (Anonymous   3,   personal  

communication).    

 

Struggles/coping:  The  kinds  of  struggles  that  interviewees  discussed  varied  just  as  much  as  

they   did   as   individuals.   Although  many   struggles   did   relate   directly   to   archaeology,   some   fell   far  

outside  of  it  (such  as  general  stress,  impending  foreclosure,  grief  over  loss  of  a  dear  friend,  lack  of  

job  security,  and  frustration  over  forgetting  names,  sites,  and  events).    

Interviewees  did  reflect  on  struggles  directly  related  to  their  experiences  with  archaeology  

as  well,  which  is  exemplified  in  the  following  three  passages:  

� We  “were  comfortable  following  in  her  slightly  worn  footsteps  but  uh  it  wasn't  easy.  One  of  the  library's  was  not  open  to  women  when  we  were  there  and  uh  what  other  indignities.  Oh  I  don't  remember,  but  we  smiled  on  through”(Anonymous  6,  personal  communication)  

                                                                                                               3  It  is  important  to  note  that  while  viewing  the  artifacts  within  this  collection  one  afternoon,  the  interviewee  commented  that  he  had  not  looked  at  many  of  them  since  the  1960s.  Although  I  cannot  speak  to  why  he  kept  so  many  boxes  of  artifacts  in  his  home  and  never  looked  at  them,  it  did  seem  apparent  that  he  wanted  them  there  for  some  reason,  until  he  passed  away  and  ceased  to  be  “useful”  to  him  in  some  way.    

  11  

 � “The  compensation  is  very  discouraging  because  of  inflation.  I  refocus  on  other  things.  I  do  

this  for  society,  it’s  public  service”  (Anonymous  9,  personal  communication)    

� What  bothers  me  are  “clients  who  just  really  don’t  care  […]  Having  a  client  who  just  paid  for  a  survey  say  ‘I  don’t  even  want  his  a  copy  of  your  report.  Just  send  me,  just  send  me  the  sign  off  letter’.  That,  that,  that  bums  me  out”  (Anonymous  10,  personal  communication)    

Archaeologists   seem   to   cope   with   their   struggles   in   a   variety   of   ways.   In   the   first   example,   the  

interviewee  sought  the  support  of  other  female  colleagues.  Instead  of  going  into  detail  however,  she  

is  rather  cryptic  about  exactly  how  she  coped,  instead  just  saying  “but  we  smiled  on  through”.  The  

second  interviewee  copes  with  less  than  desirable  working  conditions  by  “focusing  on  other  things”  

whereas   the   final   interviewee   mentioned   later   that   they   are   pleased   to   know   that   Historical  

Societies  and  other  archaeologists,  such  as  myself,  do  gain  something  from  their  work.  

 

∞  A  beginning  to  an  end  ∞  

 

Having   analyzed   various   publication   genres   (articles,   books,   book   chapters,   site   reports)  

that  span  roughly  7  archaeological  generations,   it   is  hard  to  make  broad  conclusions.  One  striking  

difference  is  that  many  earlier  texts  “allowed  the  narrator  to  be  present  in  the  text”  (Hodder  1995:  

228).  Styles  within  the  discipline  as  well  as  editorial  preferences  are  moving  away  from  the  use  of  

first  person,  which  does  have  a  subconscious  effect  on   the  reader   (and  author).  By  an  author  not  

situating  him  or  herself  in  the  text,  might  it  appear  as  though  the  narrator  is  omnipotent,  or  offer  a  

sterilized   discussion   of   the   excavation   experience?   By   this   I   mean   what   archaeologists   recollect  

decades   after   a   site   excavation   often   times   does   not   make   it   into   the   publication   because   it   is  

deemed   incidental   or   inappropriate   although   it   adds   to   the   readers   understanding   of   the  

excavation.   For   example,   one   excavation   had   to   be   completed   the   very   day   of   a   hurricane.   The  

interviewee  recalls  that    

it  got  so  dark  in  fact  that  um  because  we  had  put  up  a  tarp  to  protect  the  excavation  area  [the  landowner]  actually  ran  a  extension  cord  out  of  her  house  and  uh  gave  us  one  of  her  house  lamps   to  uh   to  plug   in  underneath   the  uh   the   tarp   so  people   could   actually   see  what   they  were  doing  to  uh  finish  off  the  excavation  [Anonymous  7,  personal  communication]    

Anthropomorphizing   artifacts   as   proxies   for   Native   people’s   presence   in   the   past   rather  

than  directly   including   them   in  discussions  of   the   site,   archaeological  narratives   can  also  become  

blindingly  “sequestered”.  While  these  choices  may  be  used  as  a  way  to  offer  a  less  complicated,  less  

risky   and   even   tidy   discussion   of   a   site,   it   again   takes   actual   people   out   of   the   equation.   This  

problematizes  Pluciennik’s  observation  that  if  “we  benefit   from  thinking  of  artifacts  as  people,  we  

  12  

can  also  think  of  people  as  artifacts”  (Pluciennik  2002:  227).  It  is  almost  as  if  some  archaeologists  

have   gone   out   of   their   way   to   remove   any   hint   of   people:   people   at   a   site   and   people   at   an  

excavation.  Even  field  photographs  generally  focus  on  the  site  (and  the  associated  features,  artifacts  

and  ecofacts)  with  the  occasional  cropped  boot  or  shadow  at  the  edge  of  the  image.    

Byers  had  this  general  impression  as  well,  addressing  it  clearly  to  Moffett  in  a  letter  dated  

November  24th  1953,  in  which  he  says:  

 

   

Just   to   be   clear,   I   am  not   sure  whether   and/or  how   to   get   away   from  many  of   the   issues  

outlined   here-­‐-­‐yet.   Every   person   reading   a   narrative   wants   a   satisfying   conclusion,   so   I   do   feel  

obliged   to  offer  one  now.  Perhaps   it   is   ironic  or  apropos,   that   I   am  not  yet   ready   to  conclude  my  

narrative,   because   like   so   many   others,   this   is   a   work   in   progress.   But   it   is   my   sense   that   each  

archaeological  narrative  does  not  need   to   satisfy  every   need.  We  need   technical   reports,  but   they  

can  be  written  in  a  more  humanizing  way.  We  also  need  to  balance  these  with  publications  that  are  

accessible   to   the   public,   although   for   various   reasons   these   types   of   publications   seem   to   be  

infrequent.    

Finally,   if   one   finds   him   or   herself   writing   an   epic,   are   archaeologists   always   the  

heroes/heroines?  Or  a  drama,  who   is   the  antagonist  and  protagonist?  Or  a  mystery,  where   is   the  

“suspense”  and  how  much  can  really  be  “solved”?  And  finally  with  a  love  story,  who  (or  what)  is  the  

love   interest   and   is   it   really   happily   ever   after   (and   for   whom)?  We   should   work   against   being  

pigeonholed  in  one  genre  and  against  talking  only  to  ourselves  about  ourselves.  We  can  and  should  

break  out  of  the  mold  and  experiment  with  writing  where  we  can,  although  the  terrain  is  unfamiliar  

and  there  are  many  ethical  considerations.  With  all  of  this  in  mind,  some  could  certainly  spend  the  

second  half  of  their  careers  writing  “prequels”  for  the  first  half!  

 

 

  13  

Acknowledgements  

   

I  would  like  to  thank  all  the  staff  at  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Commission  (Boston,  MA),  

the  Robert  S.  Peabody  Museum  of  Archaeology  (Andover,  MA),  the  New  York  State  Museum  

(Albany,  NY)  and  the  Robbins  Museum  (Middleboro,  MA)  for  their  invaluable  help  while  conducting  

this  research  over  the  past  two  summers.  Tristan  O’Donnell  has  also  been  an  invaluable  transcriber.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  14  

Works  Consulted  

 

Anonymous            1862  “Kjoekkenmoedding”  in  Scientific  American  Vol.  6:  p.  170.    Brooks,  Edward                      1941  A  Preliminary  Report  on  the  Second  Season’s  Work  at  site  M-­‐52-­‐3,  Nantucket                    Island.  Bulletin  of  the  Massachusetts  Archaeological  Society  II  (2):  pp.  15-­‐16.    Byers,  Douglas  S.              1951  “On  the  Interpretation  of  Faunal  Remains”.  American  Antiquity  16:3  (pp.  262-­‐263).    

 Criado,  Felipe            2006  The  visibility  of  the  archaeological  record  and  the  interpretation  of                      social  reality  In  Interpreting  archaeology:  finding  meaning  in  the  past.                    Routledge,  New  York.  pp.  194-­‐204.    Fagan,  Brian              2006  Writing  Archaeology:  Telling  Stories  About  the  Past.  Left  Coast  Press,                      Walnut  Creek.    Herbster,  Holly            2001  Archaeological  Site  Examination  Lot  11  Site  (19-­‐DK-­‐143).  On  file  at  the                    Massachusetts  Historical  Commission,  Boston.  

 Hodder,  Ian    

                                   1989  Writing  archaeology:  site  reports  in  context.  Antiquity  63:  pp.  268-­‐274.    Joyce,  Rosemary  A.            2002  The  languages  of  archaeology:  dialogue,  narrative,  and  writing.  Blackwell,                      Malden.    Keen,  Suzanne            2003  Narrative  form.  Palgrave  Macmillan.    Pluciennik,  Mark            2002  "Art,  Artifact  and  Metaphor."  In  Thinking  Through  the  Body:  Archaeologies  of                    Corporeality.  Yannis  Hamilakis,  Mark  Pluciennik,  Sarah  Tarlow,  eds.  New  York:                    Kluwer/Plenum.              1999  “Archaeological  narratives  and  Other  Ways  of  Telling”  Current                      Anthropology  40:  5  (pp.  653-­‐678).    Ritchie,  William  A.            1969  The  Archaeology  of  Martha’s  Vineyard:  a  Framework  for  the  Prehistory  of                      southern  New  England.  Natural  History  Press.    Shafer,  David  K.  and  Holly  Herbster            1997  Intensive  (Locational)  Archaeological  Survey  and  Archaeological  Site  Examination                    of  the  MCI  International  Site  Subdivision.  On  file  at  the  Massachusetts  Historical    

                                           Commission,  Boston.    

  15  

     

 

 

 

   

 

Figure  1.  Early  American  Kjoekkenmoedding  article  

 

 

 

 

 

  16  

 

 

 Figure  2.  Vincent  site  field  notes  (1966);  Martha’s  Vineyard,  MA  

Courtesy  of  the  New  York  State  Museum,  Albany,  NY    

  17  

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

Figure  3.  Narrative  layers  from  the  Vincent  site  Martha’s  Vineyard,  MA