The Society of American Indians, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 14, 1914. The Quarterly Journal of the Society of American Indians, Volume 2, 1914.
On the weekend before Columbus Day in Columbus, Ohio, 1911, a group of Native American leaders and activists joined together to attend what became the first annual meeting of the Society of American Indians, or SAI. For the next thirteen years, this pioneering Pan-Indian organization was a center for Native American political advocacy, lobbying Congress and the then-Office (now Bureau) of Indian Affairs; offering legal assistance to Native individuals and tribes; publishing a quarterly journal; and corresponding extensively with Native Americans, “Friends of the Indian” reformers, political allies, and critics across the country.
Members of the SAI were a veritable “who’s who” of early twentieth century Native history, representing activists, clergy, entertainers, professionals, speakers, and writers, from communities both on- and off-reservation. To namedrop just a few, these included (but were by no means limited to): attorney Marie Louise Bottineau Baldwin (Métis/Turtle Mountain Chippewa/French); musician and writer Gertrude Simmons Bonnin (Yankton Dakota); educator Henry Roe Cloud (Winnebago); Episcopal priest Sherman Coolidge (Arapaho); civil servant Charles Dagenett (Peoria); painter and illustrator Angel De Cora (Winnebago); Episcopal priest Philip Joseph Deloria (Yankton Dakota); physician Charles Eastman (Dakota); author and linguist Laura Cornelius Kellogg (Oneida); ethnologist Francis La Flesche (Omaha); physician Carlos Montezuma (Yavapai Apache); writer, editor, and journalist John M. Oskison (Cherokee); archaeologist Arthur C. Parker (Seneca); lawyer Thomas Sloan (Osage); and advocate Henry Standing Bear (Lakota).
Without sharing a singular vision of Native American identity, tribal self-determination, or what the place of Native Americans should be within US society, these individuals committed themselves to a shared purpose, striving firstly “To promote the good citizenship of the Indians of this country, to help in all progressive movements to this end, and to emulate the sturdy characteristics of the North American Indian, especially his honesty and patriotism.” Seeking to benefit the freedom and development of all Native Americans, the two primary platforms on which the SAI stood were U.S. birthright citizenship for Native Americans and tribal access to the U.S. Court of Claims, addressing the two major issues at the forefront of public debates on the “Indian problem” at the time – the ambiguity of Native American legal status and the Office of Indian Affair’s mismanagement of Native lands and resources.
The investment of people’s time and unpaid labor in the work of the Society and its journal was extraordinary but ultimately unsustainable, and the SAI dissolved in 1923. Disappointingly, it had achieved neither of its major goals. Congress passed the Indian Citizenship Act in 1924, granting birthright citizenship to Native Americans but maintaining their wardship status. The Indian Claims Commission took over twenty more years to come, in 1946, allowing tribes to bring claims against the US government through judicial arbitration, not a court, and successful claims could result only in monetary compensation, not regained lands. The SAI also could not succeed in delivering a unified expression of Native American opinion to the government and public – probably the most unrealistic aim of all.
Despite its “failures,” the Society of American Indians was the first organization of its kind, created by Native Americans to amplify a Native American voice across the country during a time when people’s lives were under siege and they battled to have their voices heard on multiple issues. It may not have lasted long, but the SAI left a legacy of political, legal, and intellectual activism, setting the course for the many Native professional organizations to follow, and standing as part of an ever-present, ongoing continuum of Native Americans advocating for their best interests; joining in the debate as to what that might look like or how to get there; and striving to build better, stronger, and healthier relationships with the rest of the nation.
Maybe consensus is less important than joining in the conversation. Whether you are celebrating Columbus Day, commemorating Indigenous Peoples’ Day, or just slogging through another Monday – that door is always open.
The Society of American Indians, 5th Annual Conference, on the steps of Engineering Hall, Kansas University, October 1, 1915. The Quarterly Journal of the Society of American Indians, Volume 3, 1915.
In January 2024 renovations to our collection housing were completed, finalizing a process that started in March 2023. To accommodate the demolition of existing shelving and installation of new condensing metal shelving, the collection was moved out of the basement in early 2023. With the project completed and several months of living with the move behind us, this seems like a good time for a brief recap. Perhaps some of our planning can help other institutions that have a collection move on the horizon.
During initial planning for the renovation, we faced two scenarios for moving the collection. The first was to move the collection offsite. The second, involved keeping the collection onsite within portions of the building that were not renovated. We needed to make viable plans for both options while decisions about construction phases and timelines were being made.
We identified several challenges to moving the collection offsite. Some of the largest hurdles included the high cost of offsite storage, the massive time commitment required for packing the collection for an offsite move and conducting a post-move inventory and condition reporting of the collection. A second round of inventory and condition reporting would need to be done after the collection was moved back into the building.
Keeping the collection onsite raised other concerns. Temporary housing would need to be big enough to house the collection. We would only be allowed in the building during designated windows when it was safe for us to enter, therefore the temporary housing area would need to be locked and monitored by cameras. The space would need to be environmentally controlled to the best of our ability. We also contemplated whether construction could lead to a catastrophic accident that would damage the building and collection.
The benefits and challenges of each scenario were taken into consideration within the larger framework of the construction plan. Ultimately, it was decided to keep the collection onsite in temporary housing. Although it came with some complications, it resulted in huge savings and a greater degree of control over the moving process when compared to moving the collection off-site.
Inventory and rehouse
The move started with an inventory and rehousing project that was carried out between 2017 and 2021. The project has been covered in previous blog posts. To summarize, Peabody staff conducted a 100% inventory of collections housed in aging wooden drawers in our basement. The inventory collected basic information; a description, count and provenience. Once inventoried, the items were rehoused in archival boxes with lids. While the wooden storage bays didn’t allow for stacking, future storage could take advantage of the ability to stack boxes.
The archival boxes were about half the size of the wooden drawers. Boxes were therefore much lighter and in most cases two boxes existed where previously there was one drawer.
Barcode and Weigh
During the planning onsite and offsite moves, we identified the first floor as the likeliest location for temporary housing if we were moving the collection inside the building. We knew the collection was heavy, but in the basement the collective weight of the collection was never a concern. Now, the ability of the building to hold the weight of the collection boxes was an important question that needed to be answered.
Equally important was how we would maintain physical control (i.e. knowing where everything in the collection is) over the collection boxes and their contents. This portion of the collection comprises nearly 3,000 boxes containing roughly 500,000 items. It was necessary to come up with an efficient way of tracking each item’s movement. Updating records at the item level within our existing database would take an incredible amount of time. Our database at the time supported barcodes at the item level, a process that would be no different than updating each item individually. We decided to assign barcodes to each box and track the box locations using a separate barcode tracking program (Orca Scan).
Over the summer of 2020, with the help of two great interns the collection was weighed and barcoded. The barcode data included the original location within the wooden storage (home location), weight, how many spaces the box would occupy in temporary housing, and any additional notes.
Results
Armed with the weight data, we were able to organize the collection so that the weight was equally distributed over the entirety of the first floor. This information also helped us organize the collection in the newly renovated basement. Now, heavy boxes are located on shelves at waist height, making for safer lifting. Lighter boxes are housed on higher and lower shelves.
Tracking box locations with barcodes worked well for the most part and was a net positive over tracking individual item locations. A 5% inventory of barcodes after the move resulted in no errors. However, errors have been found in the system since we moved the collection back into the basement. These have resulted from location errors entered into the database, as well as errors and inconsistencies entered into Orca Scan. I would recommend checking for inconsistencies in the original location data before making the move.
Using the barcode program in addition to the database to find items on the fly was time consuming, but not unreasonable. Tracking movement has been more challenging. Some movements were simple, like moving a box from one location to another. Other moves involved unpacking dense boxes and giving the removed items their own barcodes or emptying an entire box, deleting the barcode, and giving each unpacked item a new barcode. Processing so much data has required the use of formulas in Excel, and it is hard to find and analyze errors when looking at 115,000 item records.
That wraps up this brief summary of our experience moving the collection. It was the culmination of years of planning and months of preparing and implementing. I’m happy to report that 600,000 items moved one or more times up and down one or two flights of stairs resulted in nothing being damaged. Hopefully some of the issues we encountered can help inform other institutions researching a move.
Hi, all. My name is Lainie Schultz, and I am the brand-new Curator of Education here at the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology. I come to this position from the George Peabody Museum of Anthropology (aka the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, or PMAE), where I was previously the Head of Teaching and Learning. It is also where my career in museums began, as an undergrad looking for a federal work-study position. At the time I just thought it would be a relatively painless way to make some money, but it turned out I genuinely cared about museums and the relationships they build with descendant communities. Who would have guessed?
This led me to graduate school in anthropology, and a few more museum stops along the way. In between stints at the PMAE I was introduced to the culture of morning and afternoon tea in the Repatriation Unit of the National Museum of Australia (sometimes the tea is coffee); was thrown into the world of First Nations humor during consultation visits at the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia (do you know how to pronounce Kwakwaka’wakw? Gitxaała? just bragging…); learned to throw a returning boomerang at Muru Mittigar Aboriginal Cultural and Education Centre (key word “throw.” darned thing never returned); pretended along with the Cultural Collections and Community Engagement section of the Australian Museum that our already well-worn office demountables were only “temporary” (humor came in handy there, too); marveled like the nerd I am at the Berndt Museum of Anthropology’s catalogue records (THEY ARE. SO. COMPLETE.); and stayed with family I didn’t know I had before while at Bunjilaka Aboriginal Cultural Centre (that had nothing to do with the cultural center, but it really meant a lot to me).
I don’t know what new experiences the RSPI will be throwing at me, but I am ready for it all.
A four-year-old Mi’kmaq girl goes missing from the blueberry fields of Maine, sparking a tragic mystery that haunts the survivors, unravels a community, and remains unsolved for nearly fifty years.
The Berry Pickers is a heartbreaking, riveting tale of Indigenous family separation. We follow an Indigenous Mi’kmaq family in Nova Scotia who travels every summer to Maine to pick blueberries as migrant workers. In the summer of 1962, 4-year-old Ruthie, the youngest of the family’s five children, disappears from the fields. The last to see her is the second youngest, 6-year-old Joe, who takes the loss especially hard and carries his guilt in the years to come.
The book is told through two alternating character perspectives – one being Ruthie’s brother Joe and the second being a young girl named Norma. Growing up in Maine as the only child of affluent and overprotective parents, Norma, struggles to find the truth behind her recurring dreams and visions (that seem more like memories than imagination). As time and secrets unfold, these two storylines ultimately converge.
This is a treasure of a book – filled with loss and sadness yet manages to be hopeful as well. Amanda Peters (Mi’kmaq, Glooscap First Nation) has a lot of empathy for her characters and gently invites readers to examine the affects of intergenerational trauma, racist residential institutions, and the specific ways Indigenous families were treated – in a deeply personal way.
This story is both powerful and moving. Although told quietly, it did not take away from its impact.
Next on my list to read is Amanda Peter’s newest book, Waiting for the Long Night Moon: Stories. This is her debut collection of short fiction that describes Indigenous experiences across time and space – from contact with European settlers, to the forced removal of Indigenous children, to the present-day fight for the right to clean water.
The book will be available August 2024 in Canada and January 2024 in the U.S.
As Phillips Academy’s Lower School Institute (LSI) Dig This! course comes to the end of its seventh field season, students and instructors are so excited to share stories of the many artifacts they discovered at the school’s very own excavation site. At the start of the 2024 season, students were introduced to the story of the Mansion House, an eighteenth century home which belonged to the founder of the academy, and now lies buried underneath the lawn of the West Quad on Phillips Academy campus. The Mansion House stood on the property for 105 years before being burned down through an act of arson, which was never solved or prosecuted. The remains of the house laid just centimeters underneath the surface of the quad for a little over 100 years before LSI’s summer session course began the long process of meticulously digging it up.
After being introduced to the legacy of the Mansion House and its past excavations, the 2024 archaeology crew set out to build upon this research by investigating parts of the site which have never been previously tested. Specifically, six teams were each assigned a 1 X 1 meter unit and asked to investigate a given region of the West Quad, whether it be just outside of the Mansion House walls, in the area suspected to hold a nineteenth century privy, or the very place where a neighboring nineteenth century printing house was known to have stood. Equipped with shovels, trowels, and screens, the six teams got to work and all quickly began to gather archaeological data.
While no team this summer unearthed ash layers relating to the infamous 1887 fire, which resulted in the destruction of the Mansion House, several groups discovered an abundance of charcoal and burned brick. Additionally, the two groups assigned to dig in the hypothesized privy, EU 2404+2405, uncovered a plethora of cultural materials, including a button, many ceramic shards, and faunal bones. Specifically, a small black glass button, which was unearthed in EU2405, became of great interest to the students. Because black glass beads were only in fashion during the ten-year period when England’s Queen Victoria was in mourning, the button students found can be dated to that decade between 1861 to 1870. How exciting!
Students stationed in the area believed to be where the nineteenth century printing house once stood uncovered a considerable amount of leather. It is unknown if this leather came from shoes or book bindings, however the find itself is incredible given how well the material preserved over time!
Despite the fact that the 2024 Dig This! crew did not uncover any features relating to the Mansion House, privy, or printing house, students still reveled in the amount of cultural material found and were very excited to show it off at their LSI student exhibition. Students specifically enjoyed the opportunity to set up an archaeology simulation, where they explained the process of digging and let others take a stab at excavating exciting treasures in the form of candy!
Cheers to another amazing summer of learning in the dirt!
Hi my name is Kyra Smith and I was one of the curatorial assistants at the Peabody this summer! I’m a recent archaeology master’s graduate from Boston University where I focused on Indigenous archaeologies, food sovereignty, and the archaeology of the South Pacific Islands. Having previously worked in the archaeology department of another museum in undergrad, I was thrilled to apply for this position as a curatorial assistant, especially at an institution that is so dedicated to NAGPRA. I was so invested in the position I had my family ship me my sister’s 1998 Toyota Camry from Washington State- which in the state of Massachusetts counts as an Antique Vehicle!
Working at the Peabody over these last ten weeks has been an exercise in flexibility, learning as we go along, and exposure to things we’ve never seen or interacted with before. There are so many things I could write about, but the story I want to share as my time here comes to an end is how the Peabody got its own pet mammoth.
On a particularly hot and humid Friday, I finally got to use an atlatl for the first time. Ever since undergrad I have heard professors and archaeologists talk about atlatls, and even how they used to take students to try throwing them in previous years. Ever since then I have been biding my time until the opportunity arose- and oh was it worth the wait.
John, Cyrus, and I went out onto the Vista bright and early before it got too hot, and John took us through the basics. If you have ever used one of those plastic arms to play fetch with your dog- it’s nothing like that at all, which I learned very quickly. I imagine it was quite the sight for the construction workers on break in the shade of a nearby tree to see us attempting to throw the arrows taller than we were with varying degrees of success. After Cyrus and I (sort of) got the hang of it we were going to do target practice at the international standard target, but sadly that had to wait as the aforementioned construction workers were still under that tree which was too close to the target for comfort.
So, we went back inside to rest our arms and cool down, and by then an idea had begun to form. One that was inspired by our conversations about whether we were successful hunters of our theoretical mammoth/mastodon. That idea would have to wait because about an hour later we went back out to try aiming the arrows instead of attempting to throw them as far as humanly possible. It is much easier to attempt to throw them as far as humanly possible than it is to hit a large, completely still target. Still, Cyrus and I were able to land a couple hits each on the actual target and not into the bush next to it, and we called that a win. We may never know if we were skilled enough at throwing the atlatl to take on a mammoth, so instead I made a mammoth for the museum.
In my free time, when I’m not at the Peabody, I learned how to crochet amigurumi, which is a Japanese name for a style of stuffed crochet animals. That weekend after we threw the atlatls, I found a pattern online and spent some time crocheting a mammoth to be a mascot and companion at the museum. And thus, Josie was born! She was named by Marla, and now lives at the Peabody, where Marla promises she will never be used as target practice when throwing atlatls. For anyone else interested in crocheting or amigurumi, I got the pattern for Josie from CrochetGrove on Etsy.
Josie also represents one of my favorite aspects of working in a museum, as they are fundamentally institutions created for the purpose of preserving and storing information, things, and stories for perpetuity, there will always be a record of my impact whether it’s the work I did, the things I made, or the stuffed mammoths I created. Sure, the things I’m doing may not be monumental, but they are fundamental things that have left a trail of my action on parts of the museum like the catalog, or the new housing for artifacts with my initials on it, and the drawers in the collections storage where Cyrus and I curated and displayed artifacts from all over the world so that the museum and its staff can better tell the stories of the materials they care for. It’s a reminder of how much the little things mean in the greater scheme of things.
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As Kyra aptly said in their post above, the Peabody Institute provided plenty of opportunities to expand our creative and intellectual spirit. As a Historical Archaeology graduate student at UMass Boston, I had minor collections experience and applied to the summer curatorial assistant position to undergo formal museum collections training. Having admired the Peabody Institute’s commitment to NAGPRA and tTribal relations for years, I was eager to witness the processes and procedures that go into the day-to-day work. However, what I was not expecting was the range of creations and artifacts I would be interacting with. My archaeological background is rooted in the Northeast United States and focuses on environmental analysis, so my mind was blown when one of our first tasks was rehousing ancient botanical remains from Tehuacán Valley, Mexico. Coming face-to-face to some of the world’s oldest domesticated maize was an experience I will never forget.
Kyra and I spent a lot of time with ceramics, lithics, and textiles from regions we were pretty unfamiliar with. Despite our lack of regional understanding, the Peabody staff always provided context and demonstrated deep respect for all creations. As we created mounts for modern Guatemalan and ancient Peruvian textiles we learned their patterns and language; as I rehoused lithics I would consider the generational knowledge and studied craftsmanship it would take to form them. Creating spaces to house and display archaeological and ethnographic creations ranging from the Lucy Foster household in Andover to Meso-America to Paleolithic Europe was an honor and I am proud to have contributed to the updated collection spaces and stories the Peabody staff can tell.
The Peabody Institute has a very storied past that was illuminated through organizing both the library and Eugene Winter’s archive. As it was founded in 1901 with contributions from many different kinds of archaeologists, the library seems to contain the entire history and complicated legacy of North American archaeology. In addition to the library, Eugene Winter, Honorary Curator and lifelong contributor to the Peabody, had left behind an archive after his passing. Kyra and I spent some time exploring his legacy through the resources, photographs, and ephemera he had designated important enough to keep. Interacting with both the collections, library and archives created an meta-institutional feedback loop as a reminder that working in archaeology requires positionality, empathy, and acceptance of “not-knowing.” We will never be able to alter the decisions made in the past, but we can always alter our perspectives in the present and contribute to a future that centers people and not only their “things.”
As Kyra noted, working at the Peabody for the past ten weeks might not have been monumental to its legacy, but the work that has been completed by the longer-term staff is monumental to the field. The Peabody staff have taught me fundamental collection management skills that are coated in careful consideration, empathy, and a desire to create a better future that I am extremely grateful to inherit.
June brought a family trip to London, including a visit to the British Museum. Many websites list the top ten items that you should not miss at the museum, and the British Museum itself has a leaflet with their recommended highlights. The British Museum is sort of ground zero for archaeology, anthropology, and colonialism, as well as mounting calls for repatriation (many people are surprised that the British Museum is prevented from repatriating cultural items by law, and can only deaccession items that are deemed duplicates, damaged, or no longer of public interest). A surprise was a number of pieces by contemporary artists that stand in juxtaposition to items from the past. It was particularly neat to encounter several ceramic pieces by Diego Romero in the case along with older and ancient pieces of Pueblo pottery. After the visit, I decided that I’d shared my own British Museum top ten list and my own repatriation recommendations.
Diego Romero’s contemporary Pueblo pottery commemorates the Pueblo Revolt of 1680; at the British Museum Romero’s work appears with older and ancient pieces.
No. 1 Hoa Hakananai’a (meaning ‘lost, hidden, or stolen friend’)
Hoa Hakananai’a is one of two Moai from Rapa Nui (Easter Island) held by the British Museum. According the exhibit text, both Moai were taken from Rapa Nui in 1868 by Commodore Richard Powell and the crew of a British survey ship, HMS Topaze. The Admiralty presented Hoa Hakananai’a to Queen Victoria, who ultimately gave him to the British Museum, rejoining Moai Hava, who went directly from the Admiralty to the museum. Near the base of the colossal figure of Hoa Hakananai’a are offerings made by representatives from Rapa Nui. The Rapa Nui requested repatriation in 2019 and the exhibit text explains that conversations about return are ongoing.
Should the British Museum repatriate Hoa Hakananai’a and Moai Hava? Yes.
No. 2 Parthenon Marbles
Perhaps central to requests for repatriation of cultural items from the British Museum are the sculpted frieze panels from the Parthenon–long called the Elgin Marbles, after the individual who originally took the panels. These impressive carvings once adorned the Parthenon–the Temple of Athena–on the Acropolis in Athens and date from nearly 2,500 years ago. The pamphlets that are usually available to explain why the panels shouldn’t be repatriated were all gone by the time we were there, but the British Museum website explains, “It is universally recognised that the sculptures that survive are best seen and conserved in museums.” Is it? The website goes on to note that in 2009, a new museum was constructed in Athens to showcase the panels. Greece has asked for the return of the carvings numerous times. Two notes from our visit. First, our friend Bill, a big comic and graphic novel connoisseur, noted that the so-called “South Metopes,” the panels depicting a battle between centaurs and Lapiths at the marriage feast of Peirithoos, followed the graphic, sequential storytelling now best known from comic books. Once he pointed this out, it completely changed my appreciation for the panels. Secondly, if you look out the windows of Gallery 18, where the sculptures and carvings are exhibited, you could see someone making breakfast in a flat directly behind the museum. I found the juxtaposition of these culturally and politically charged items with the quotidian of daily life to bring the entire, global conversation about the marbles into stark relief.
The gallery featuring the Parthenon Marbles was a popular destination when we visited in June.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Parthenon Marbles? Yes.
No. 3 Hopewell platform pipes
I’m definitely deviating from the top ten lists provided by the British Museum and other writers at this point, but for a student of archaeology of the Southeastern United States, I was really looking forward to seeing the Hopewell platform pipes. The Hopewell pipes, of stone, with beautifully carved birds and animals in miniature, were removed from Mound City in Ohio by E.G. Squier and Edwin Davis–remember Squier and Davis? Authors of 1848’s Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley, one of the earliest archaeological publications of the Smithsonian Institution, sent this remarkable group of nearly fifty carvings abroad. According to the catalog for the 1977 exhibition Sacred Circles, “These little sculptures have a meaning that far outstrips their size. One feels their importance. It has something to do with the salient presentation of each animal, quail, hawk, bear, panther, snake, beaver or squirrel.” Acknowledging the high arts, architecture, and far-flung influences of the Hopewell, UNESCO recently designated eight of these monumental earthwork complexes as world heritage sites. Many institutions in the United States hold material heritage of Hopewell, and consultation with Tribes and Nations, as well as affiliations are beginning to happen.
Hopewell platform pipes from Ohio displayed at the British Museum.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Hopewell platform pipes? Yes.
No. 4 Sutton Hoo ship burial
I was excited to see the items from the seventh century Sutton Hoo ship burial. In 1939, in Suffolk, avocational archaeologist Basil Brown worked with landowner Edith Pretty to excavate the remains of an Anglo-Saxon ship burial, including a trove of weapons and jewels, including gold and garnet items and a fabulous portrait helmet of iron and copper alloy, that some have thought might be King Raedwald of East Anglia.
The Sutton Hoo portrait helmet.
Many learned a little about Sutton Hoo from the 2021 Netflix movie The Dig starring Carey Mulligan and Ralph Fiennes. Sadly The Dig didn’t tell us much about the discovery or the project itself, even changing elements of the story and characters, like Mercie Lack and Barbara Wagstaff, teachers and amateur photographers who volunteered to help and captured amazing images of the fragile and rapidly deteriorating find (they became a man in the movie–why?). Okay, so, you probably are thinking Sutton Hoo, Suffolk, solidly in England, no question of repatriation, right? Well, a 2020 blog on Cultural Restitution called for the return of the Sutton Hoo helmet and other items from the ship burial to regional and local museums. The blog, based on an argument forwarded by historian James Barr, notes all the reasons the British Museum would oppose such a repatriation–Edith Pretty donated the items to the museum, the 1963 act that prohibits repatriation, as well as environmental and ethical concerns. Interestingly, we encountered a similar position in 2014 after the Peabody Institute of Archaeology’s repatriation of Mesolithic era painted pebbles to France’s National Museum of Archaeology (Édouard Piette, who had discovered the pebbles and donated them to the national museum, stipulated that they should never leave the so-called Piette Room). We felt pretty good about the repatriation, but upon visiting the area where the pebbles were found, locals complained that the pebbles weren’t coming home to them, but rather hoarded in Paris. Hmmm, good questions.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Sutton Hoo ship burial? Yes.
No. 5 Lewis Chessmen
A Lewis Chessmen queen seems to be considering her plight.
A gallery or two over from Sutton Hoo and you find the twelfth century Lewis Chessmen, carved of walrus ivory and found in the nineteenth century in the Outer Hebribean Isle of Lewis in Scotland. Some went to the National Museum of Scotland–we saw them on our trip in 2017–but the bulk were sold to the British Museum. The source of the ivory and where the figures were made (maybe Norway!) is debated, but they are delightful, including berserkers chomping on their shields and queens doing what only could be described as a medieval face palm. You might think, wait, these are from the UK, so all good for the British Museum to keep, right? I wasn’t too surprised, however, to see that there have been efforts to return the chessmen not only to Scotland, but in 2010 Scottish MP Angus MacNeil called for the chessmen to return to Museum nan Eilean (museum of the islands) at Lews Castle in Stornoway, the major town of the Outer Hebrides. A 2017 Global Heritage blog post notes, “Recognition that the Lewis Chessmen are part of the heritage of the Western Isles of Scotland has come in the last few years after much lobbying, when the British Museum decided to loan six chess pieces to the Museum nan Eilean.”
Should the British Museum repatriate the Lewis Chessmen? Yes.
No. 6 Rosetta Stone
The Rosetta Stone was one of the more popular objects–I lament that I didn’t get a photo of the three young men capturing a selfie.
The Rosetta Stone is sort of like the British Museum’s Mona Lisa–a lot of people were crammed in to get a look and it’s a little smaller than you think it will be. A group of young men in their 20s did a selfie. The Rosetta Stone includes translations of a text in three writing systems–classical hieroglyphics, Demotic script (a simplified hieroglyphics), and Ancient Greek. This allowed nineteenth century scholars–especially French archaeologist Jean-Francois Champollion–to crack the code of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, earning the Rosetta Stone a place in archaeology’s top ten. In 2022, Monica Hanna, dean at the Arab Academy for Science, Technology & Maritime Transportation, organized a petition calling for the repatriation of the Rosetta Stone, noting, “the British Museum’s holding of the stone is a symbol of Western cultural violence against Egypt.” The petition garnered over 4,000 signatures. Zahi Hawass, well-known Egyptian archaeologist–circulated a similar petition–which got over 100,000 signatures. According to reporting in 2022, the British Museum argued that an 1801 treaty included legally transferred ownership of the famous tablet.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Rosetta Stone? Yes.
No. 7 North West palace of Ashurnasirpal gate
The lamassu figure from Ashurnasirpal’s palace throne room entrance is paired with the replica of the Balawat Gate (to the left in this picture).
Of all the cultural treasures housed at the British Museum, the Ashurnasirpal gate is perhaps one of the most striking. I first learned about these massive carvings of winged human-headed lions (or lamassu) guardians from the royal palace at Nimrud (modern northern Iraq) in grad school. The late Barbara Barletta taught a fantastic art history course on Ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt. The tests were very different from those in archaeology, and were based around projected slides that corresponded to questions on the test. I became proficient at making quick sketches in my notes so I could keep track of which architectural features and cultural items were which. Erected during the reign of neo-Assyrian king Ashurnasirpal II, almost 3,000 years ago, the figure was excavated by Sir Austen Henry Layard in 1851. A similar, perhaps matching figure is at the Met in New York. I can’t find any specific calls for repatriation by governments of Iraq, but they have been increasingly involved in the return of looted cultural items, including cuneiform tablets that landed at the Museum of the Bible and Cornell University. In 2023 Iraqi-American artist Michael Rakowitz offered his 2018 sculpture The Invisible Enemy Should Not Exist–his version of a massive lamassu–in exchange for repatriation of the Ashurnasirpal carving. An article about Rakowitz’s offer indicate that he specifically wanted to see the return of the Ashurnasirpal carving to respond to the destruction of a lamassu dating to 700 BCE at the Nergal Gate in Nineveh, which was purposely destroyed by the Islamic State in 2015.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Ashurnasirpal gate? Yes.
No. 8 Aztec serpent pectoral
The mosaic on the Aztec serpent (or caterpillar!) pectoral is made of thousands of chips of turquoise with spondylus shell highlights.
The serpent pectoral is one of several turquoise mosaics from Mesoamerica associated with the Aztec and Mixtec of central Mexico, dating from 1,400 to 1,521. Carved of cedar wood, the undulating body of the double-headed serpent is covered with an intricate mosaic of turquoise and shell. The back side is flat, and unadorned, leading most to describe this as a pectoral, which could have been worn suspended on the chest of a person or larger statue. A catalog note by Vila Llonch notes, “The Nahuatl term ‘coatl’ can be translated as both serpent and twin. The Mexica considered serpents to be powerful, multifaceted creatures that could bridge the spheres (the underworld, water and sky) owing to their physical and mythical characterisitics.” Joshua Fitzgerald offers another interpretation, suggesting the pectoral is not a snake, but rather a caterpillar, representing less bad omens, and more a physical representation of how to think about life stages. The pectoral was purchased by the British Museum from a dealer, representing “an Italian gentleman” in 1894, after considerable negotiations about the price, as well as intrigue involving Duchessa Massimo (Teresa Maria Doria-Pamphili-Landi) and the Massimo Family of Rome. It’s almost impossible to look at a book about the Aztecs or Mesoamerican archaeology without encountering the mosaic pectoral–it’s famous! I can’t find specific instances of Mexico calling for the return of the mosaic pectoral, but a 2022 article by Amah-Rose Abrams points out increasing opposition by Mexico to international auctions, as well as a legacy of protecting cultural heritage from pilfering and removal that dates back to at least 1911, following the Mexican Revolution. In that piece, Mexico’s culture minister, Alejandra Frausto Guerrero, is quoted, stating “any piece of national heritage that is permanently outside the country, not temporarily for an exhibition or cultural cooperation, comes from an illegal act.”
Should the British Museum repatriate the Aztec serpent pectoral? Yes.
No. 9 Nisga’a house pole
The Nisga’a and Haida house poles overlooking the British Museum lunch area.
Two house poles–what many might call totem poles–occupy an area near where you can have lunch at the British Museum. One is Haida, the other Nisga’a, from Angeedaw on the Nass River in British Columbia. I was particularly interested to see the Nisga’a house pole, since a presentation at the November 2023 AAIA repatriation conference highlighted the rematriation of another Nisga’a house pole from the National Museums of Scotland. Both pts’ann were taken by anthropologist Marius Barbeau, who was commissioned to acquire these items from the UK museums. The online entry for the Nisga’a pole includes this text:
The receipt in the Canadian Museum reads: ‘M.Barbeau Nass River Aug 30 1932. [To] Smith and his clan For totem pole of Eagle-Beaver, their property, which they cede in complete clan agreement without further claim (assuming responsibility of division of price between themselves) to M.Barbeau for his disposal according to authority received. Received payment in full (signed) William Smith his mark. (witness) Albert Allen. $310’ The difference in sale and cost figures being accounted for by travel and other expenses?
Apparently, similar documents exist for the rematriated pts’ann, but family stories contradict the receipted account, according to an October 17, 2023 story in IndigiNews. That story–and the presentations at the November repatriation conference–explained that these pts’ann were carved as memorials to deceased family members and are considered more than objects, but as ancestors themselves. The Angeedaw pts’ann is about 25 feet tall with carvings of mythological creatures, an eagle, and beavers.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Nisga’a house pole? Yes.
No 10 Citico shell gorget
Note–I’m not including any images of the shell gorget, as this is so clearly a funerary item.
In a case near the Hopewell pipes described above was a beautiful example of a Citico style shell gorget. I was surprised to encounter this cultural item at the British Museum, as I had become quite familiar with these objects in repatriation work here at the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology. These gorgets, made from the outer whorl of a large whelk shell and depicting stylized rattlesnakes, appear almost exclusively in burials of the late Mississippian era in the southeastern United States. A similar gorget from Etowah, a major mound complex near Atlanta, Georgia, was on exhibit at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History when I was there last summer. All of the examples from Etowah and Little Egypt here at the Peabody are awaiting repatriation, either as associated or unassociated funerary objects. My degree of familiarity with these gorgets increased in 2018 when we began working with the FBI to recover several stolen shell gorgets–which was partially successful. That work led me to scour publications, auction catalogs, and online auctions for shell gorgets in the hopes of recognizing one of the stolen ones. Helpful in all that is an exhaustive catalog of shell gorgets compiled by Jeffrey P. Brain and Philip Phillips, published by the Harvard Museum Press in 1996. The British Museum example, which apparently came to the museum in 1884 from William Bragge, does not appear in the Brain and Phillips catalog. Bragge was a nineteenth century engineer, antiquarian, and collector, with a specialty in tobacco; the British Museum holds 1,899 objects that are related to Bragge’s collecting efforts, including objects from far-flung Indigenous cultures, often pipes or smoking-related paraphernalia.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Citico shell gorget? Yes.
The first steps in the deinstallation process: items are removed and inventoried.
This month we began deinstalling our institution’s last remaining exhibit case. The case resides on the second floor in what was, until recently, our only environmentally controlled storage housing. The case was installed in 1967 and held materials recovered during excavations led by Scotty MacNeish in Mexico’s Tehuacán Valley. The display has sat largely hidden from view behind shelving since 2012, when this room was converted into a housing area.
Summer curatorial assistant, Cyrus, removing items from the case.
Beginning this spring, the room slowly changed from collection housing into offices and workspace for collections staff. As part of the transformation, collections were moved into the basement, boards covering the windows were removed, and collections supplies and worktables were assembled. The final piece to resolve was this exhibit case. With the help of our summer curatorial assistants, Kyra Smith and Cyrus Marion, we were finally able to tackle its deinstallation.
Those are actual mesquite seeds attached to the wall.
The case is a fantastic example of exhibit design from the ‘60s and includes charming hand-painted illustrations that have a lot of character. However, the materials within have been “on display” for decades and they need a rest. Moreover, with the window coverings removed, the room and case were exposed to unfiltered ultraviolet light, an agent of deterioration.
The key to the exhibit case.
Perhaps as an auspicious sign, a key to the exhibit case happened to be in one of the repurposed desks that we moved in for the new office space. With the case opened, we investigated how the items had been installed. Most were secured to the walls with bee’s wax. The wax held up remarkably well for the past six decades. In fact, it was somewhat difficult to remove the items from the wall. Once off the wall, the wax was more accessible and could be removed with heat. We did not remove the wax from botanical items due to their sensitivity to rapid changes in temperature.
Bees Wax held these items on the wall for 57 years!Instructions for the vitrine’s removal.
The items were rehoused and moved into our basement storage for a much-needed rest. The deinstallation of this case marks the end of our institution’s intentional move away from exhibitions, which began in 2017.
As summer approaches and we begin to wind down from the end of another school year, we could all use a good book (or podcast) to help us relax and escape our busy lives. We’ve rounded up our staff’s “Peabody Picks” for summer and hope one of these recommendations may accompany you to the beach, on your next trip, or at home on the couch. We hope you all enjoy your summer!
Happy reading (and listening)!
Ryan Wheeler, Director – Sins of the Shovel: Looting, Murder, and the Evolution of American Archaeology by Rachel Morgan
American archaeology was forever scarred by an 1893 business proposition between cowboy-turned-excavator Richard Wetherill and socialites-turned-antiquarians Fred and Talbot Hyde. Wetherill had stumbled upon Mesa Verde’s spectacular cliff dwellings and started selling artifacts, but with the Hydes’ money behind him, well—there’s no telling what they might discover. Thus begins the Hyde Exploring Expedition, a nine-year venture into Utah’s Grand Gulch and New Mexico’s Chaco Canyon that—coupled with other less-restrained looters—so devastates Indigenous cultural sites across the American Southwest that Congress passes first-of-their-kind regulations to stop the carnage. As the money dries up, tensions rise, and a once-profitable enterprise disintegrates, setting the stage for a tragic murder.
Sins of the Shovel is a story of adventure and business gone wrong and how archaeologists today grapple with this complex heritage. Through the story of the Hyde Exploring Expedition, practicing archaeologist Rachel Morgan uncovers the uncomfortable links between commodity culture, contemporary ethics, and the broader political forces that perpetuate destructive behavior today. The result is an unsparing and even-handed assessment of American archaeology’s sins, past and present, and how the field is working toward atonement.
“An incisive history of early American archaeology—from reckless looting to professional science—and the field’s unfinished efforts to make amends today, told “with passion, indignation, and a dash of suspense.” –New York Times
Richard Davis, Peabody Volunteer – A Kind of Flying: Selected Stories by Ron Carlson
Ron Carlson’s stories, sometimes wicked or bittersweet, often zany, are rich with a hard-earned hopefulness frequently absent in contemporary fiction. In this generous gathering from collections no longer available, longtime fans and new readers alike can savor the development of a master of idiosyncrasy.
Properly celebrated for his range, Carlson offers us a rural sheriff who’s wary of UFOs (“Phenomena”), a lawyer on a mission in remote Alaska (“Blazo”), a baseball player turned killer-by-accident (“Zanduce at Second”), and a man accusing Bigfoot of stealing his wife, followed by Bigfoot’s incomparable response.
.“These stories are full of surprises, jolts, and lightning strikes of recognition. Do yourself a favor and read Ron Carlson.” –Stephen King
John Bergman-McCool, Collections Coordinator – Podcasts: Handsome and Throughline from NPR
Handsome is a podcast from comedians Tig Notaro, Fortune Feimster, and Mae Martin. Every week, the handsome hosts field a question from a friend and attempt to answer it together, covering every subject you could think of. Along the way, Tig, Fortune, and Mae tell plenty of stories and just generally have a ridiculous time.
Throughlineis a time machine. Each episode, we travel beyond the headlines to answer the question, “How did we get here?” We use sound and stories to bring history to life and put you into the middle of it. From ancient civilizations to forgotten figures, we take you directly to the moments that shaped our world. Throughline is hosted by Peabody Award-winning journalists Rund Abdelfatah and Ramtin Arablouei.
Marla Taylor, Curator of Collections – Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore
Marla – Sometimes I like to revisit favorite books that I have read in the past. Lamb by Christopher Moore is one of those books for me. The full title is Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal.
Moore tells the story of a very human Joshua (Jesus) and his best friend/protector, Biff, as they explore their world and learn about themselves. Joshua can’t sin, so Biff has to do it all for him with some delightful and unexpected encounters. This book is irreverent and hilarious – it makes me laugh every time.
But Lamb is also so much more than that. It is a deeply sentimental story about friendship, an exploration of faith, and something that has stuck with me over the years. I really enjoy reading it periodically and hope you find the time to read it as well.
“An instant classic…terrific, funny, and poignant.” –Rocky Mountain News
Emma Lavoie, Administrative Assistant – The Only One Left by Riley Sager
At seventeen, Lenora Hope, Hung her sister with a rope – Now reduced to a schoolyard chant, the Hope family murders shocked the Maine coast one bloody night in 1929. While most people assume seventeen-year-old Lenora was responsible, the police were never able to prove it. Other than her denial after the killings, she has never spoken publicly about that night, nor has she set foot outside Hope’s End, the cliffside mansion where the massacre occurred.
Stabbed her father with a knife, Took her mother’s happy life – It’s now 1983, and home-health aide Kit McDeere arrives at a decaying Hope’s End to care for Lenora after her previous nurse fled in the middle of the night. In her seventies and confined to a wheelchair, Lenora was rendered mute by a series of strokes and can only communicate with Kit by tapping out sentences on an old typewriter. One night, Lenora uses it to make a tantalizing offer—I want to tell you everything. “It wasn’t me,” Lenora said, But she’s the only one not dead.
“Propulsive … a dizzying Gothic whodunit.” –New York Times Book Review
Michael Agostino, Peabody Volunteer – Discovery and Adventure in Africa by James Wilson Jameson and Hugh Murray
Mike – I like old books. Really old books. Old books which have sat on shelves for many years, sometimes read cover to cover, sometimes ignored and gathering dust. Passed down, sold, and exchanged, they end up in a bookstore that I manage to find while on vacation. I have been lucky enough to come across science books published in the late 1800’s and own four Darwins from that time period. No, these are not first edition collector’s items valued at thousands of dollars. I believe the most I ever spent was $30! They must be in good shape for me to buy them, but often show their age. I don’t mind these flaws as it adds to the character I am seeking.
One year I purchased a very old book, “Discovery and Adventure in Africa,” printed in 1832. According to the writing inside the jacket, I spent $5. It is very fragile, yellow with age, and I must be careful when I open it and turn the pages. But what a find! It is number 16 of a 71 book series called “Harper’s Family Library.” It is written by two men who appear to be professors of history and they are recounting the travels and discovery of other Europeans in Africa. It contains a number of illustrations (“engravings”) which try to capture what the explorers are seeing. The real gem of the book is a 9” x 8” fold-out map of Africa. This map reflects the European knowledge of that era as numerous features appear on the edges of the continent but much of the interior is blank.
This 4” by 6” book is a tough read as the text is tiny. But the style is very colorful, common in old writing. Explorers and their teams died frequently in their travels. In this case, almost every explorer came down with high fevers and were ill for weeks. But many recovered to continue months of travel marked with deteriorating resources and energy. They were met by kindness, distrust, help, violence, and puzzlement. The people they met varied in apparent wealth. Many led simple lives while others were the local kings and queens. Some villages contained dozens of inhabitants, while cities had populations in the thousands. Since the descriptions are second and even third-hand, it is hard to decide how accurate the accounts are. But even with that in mind, the window back in time is still interesting and I am enjoying reading about the various cultures the explorers encountered.
Given its age, I was lucky to find this book on a store shelf. But you can find it for sale on the web as you can for almost anything. For me, the hunt continues and if I’m lucky I will find another volume of this great series of books.
“This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.” –Wentworth Press
Nick Andrusin, Temporary Educator and Collections Assistant – The Age of the Vikings by Anders Winroth
The Vikings maintain their grip on our imagination, but their image is too often distorted by myth. It is true that they pillaged, looted, and enslaved. But they also settled peacefully and traveled far from their homelands in swift and sturdy ships to explore. The Age of the Vikings tells the full story of this exciting period in history. Drawing on a wealth of written, visual, and archaeological evidence, Anders Winroth captures the innovation and pure daring of the Vikings without glossing over their destructive heritage. He not only explains the Viking attacks, but also looks at Viking endeavors in commerce, politics, discovery, and colonization, and reveals how Viking arts, literature, and religious thought evolved in ways unequaled in the rest of Europe. The Age of the Vikings sheds new light on the complex society, culture, and legacy of these legendary seafarers.
“[Winroth] has an impressive knowledge of the sources, the archaeology, and the modern historical literature. . . . Winroth really knows what he is writing about, and has done the research. . . . I recommend the work to anyone with little knowledge of the subject and a wish to learn more.”–New York Review of Books
Cyrus Marion, Curatorial Assistant – The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity by David Graeber and David Wengrow
A dramatically new understanding of human history, challenging our most fundamental assumptions about social evolution―from the development of agriculture and cities to the origins of the state, democracy, and inequality―and revealing new possibilities for human emancipation.
Drawing on pathbreaking research in archaeology and anthropology, Graeber and Wengrow reveal how history becomes a far more interesting place once we learn to throw off our conceptual blinders and perceive what’s really there. If humans did not spend 95 percent of their evolutionary past in tiny bands of hunter-gatherers, what were they doing during all that time? If agriculture and cities did not mean a plunge into hierarchy and domination, then what kinds of social and economic organizations did they lead to? The answers are often unexpected, and suggest that the course of human history may be less set in stone, and more open to playful, hopeful possibilities, than we tend to assume.
Cyrus – Pay special attention to those footnotes! You do not want to pass those up in your reading.
“[The book takes] as its immodest goal nothing less than upending everything we think we know about the origins and evolution of human societies.” –The New York Times
Kyra Smith, Curatorial Assistant – Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer
As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. Drawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, and as a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings―asters and goldenrod, strawberries and squash, salamanders, algae, and sweetgrass―offer us gifts and lessons, even if we’ve forgotten how to hear their voices. In reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learn to give our own gifts in return.
“Robin Wall Kimmerer has written an extraordinary book, showing how the factual, objective approach of science can be enriched by the ancient knowledge of the indigenous people. It is the way she captures beauty that I love the most—the images of giant cedars and wild strawberries, a forest in the rain and a meadow of fragrant sweetgrass will stay with you long after you read the last page” –Jane Goodall
Additional reading recommendations from our Peabody Staff
PA Reunion Weekend only comes once a year and it is one Saturday that I don’t mind working. Now that I have been at the Peabody for over 16 years (gasp!), I am privileged to have forged connections with dozens of students over the years and I really love seeing them return as alumni.
For anyone who doesn’t know, the Peabody Institute has long been a part of the Phillips Academy work duty program. PA students are required to do some type of work on campus during their time as part of their education. The Peabody has been one of those work venues for about 20 years now. While time requirements for work duty have shifted over the years, this has long been an important link between the Peabody and students. Running the work duty program was a primary focus of mine for 8-10 years and I really enjoyed getting to know the students.
Now, some of those students come back as adults and share their memories with me. Being a part of their PA experience and leaving any type of impact on them is truly one of the best parts of my job. I look forward to many more opportunities to connect!
The Peabody 