Cultural Landscape

Exploring the "Silent City"

The posts for this blog have so far been “scientific” essays about “natural history”, especially archeology. This one is an experiment. Maybe after three or four posts about the technical stuff, I’ll try fictional writing a fictional short story related to the same information.

We’ll see how this one goes. If I get some (any?) encouragement, I’ll maybe try it again. If there are enough (any?) complaints, I’ll stick to the nonfiction facts. That’s where I have more writing experience anyway!

This first attempt at fiction will serve to get us back to Blood Run, rather than telling a story about something that happened on Lone Tree Farm.

Figure 1----A retired academic resting on the Pitted Boulder while working on his field notes. Photo by Margaret Shurr.

A Tour of the “Silent City”

Ella watched as the rental car pulled into the parking area and three men got out. She had organized the tour as a part of the history conference at a nearby university and she was somewhat disappointed at the lack of interest reflected in the small number of participants.

She turned to Dick and said, “Not many people signed up for the tour, but hopefully we’ll have some good discussions with such a small group.”

Dick smiled sympathetically. “Yup. And, there’ll be plenty of conversation if they’re all professors!”

Ella waved the three academics over to where she and Dick stood next to the trail.

The driver of the car broke away from the other two men and practically bounded over to where the two tour leaders were standing.

“Where’s the iconic Pitted Boulder located?” he asked. He was out of breath.

Ella and Dick exchanged private smiles, Ella nodded and Dick answered, “It’ll be at our last stop. We’ll finish up the tour there.”

The other two professors walking more slowly, joined the rest of the group.

“Let’s gather around and get acquainted. I’m Ella. I teach American Studies and helped organize the conference where the talks have just finished. This is Dick. He’s a member of the local citizens’ group that has been working to protect this important archaeological site. His family has lived and farmed in this general area for several generations.”

She continued, “My husband, Jamie, has taken our two kids off into the restored tall grass prairie here along the trail and they will join us at our first stop.”

“I’m Jeff,” said the tall young man who had driven the car. “I teach at a public university on the West Coast and I’ve been researching Blood Run as a part of my campaign to get tenure and a promotion. I’ll let these guys introduce themselves.”

“My name is Reverend Vander Strauss,” the older man with a trim white beard said. “I’ve just retired from an administrative position at a church-affiliated college not too far from here. I’ve recently had a hip replaced, so I hope that we don’t have too much hill-climbing!”

“The trail is pretty level until we head toward the last stop, but we’ll take it slow,” Dick said.

The third man took off his baseball cap. “I’m John and my specialty is economic history. I’m a tenured, full professor at a state university in the Mideast,” he said as he smirked somewhat unkindly at Jeff and replaced the ball cap.

It was a beautiful afternoon in late spring as the five people walked west along the edge of an abandoned gravel pit. The tail grass prairie was on the right; straight ahead they could see across the valley to the bluffs beyond the main river channel.

Ella and Dick stopped the group beside a shallow hole located at the rim of the steep slope that ran down to the south into the abandoned pit.

“This area is all part of a salvage excavation that was conducted in the early 1980s. I remember coming here as a kid to watch the work,” Dick said. “The gravel pit was scheduled to be shut down because the operation had started to cut into archaeological features.”

Ella added, “The subtle, low hills in the tall grass behind you are the northern-most set of mounds. There’s a much more extensive group near our last stop at the Pitted Boulder. Taken together these so-called neighborhoods constitute what is known as the “Silent City”.

“Isn’t it interesting to see such a concrete expression of the dynamic between economic necessities and the more esoteric desire for preservation?” John asked. “In addition to this gravel pit, I’ll bet that there’s also pressure from housing developments in this beautiful river valley.” He waved his arm off generally toward the river bluffs.

Reverend Vander Strauss nodded agreement, but Jeff fidgeted uncomfortably and Ella and Dick exchanged frowns.

“Yes! That’s exactly what’s been happening!” Ella said. “But, there’s also a movement to protect the extensive archaeological site and promote the total landscape as green space near the expanding urban area that’s just to the west.”

Jeff spread his arms expansively and exclaimed, “Wouldn’t it be ironic if this landscape generated more money as a recreation area than as a housing development or mining operation?”

John scowled. “That’s highly unlikely in light of the economics of conventional land-use patterns.”

Reverend Vander Strauss interrupted the potential disagreement and asked, “Weren’t the mounds part of the Indian’s religion and used for burial and for ceremonial purposes?”

“Well, that is what archaeologists do think, but those interpretations still need to be part of on-going discussions with Native People,” Ella said.

At that exact moment, her family charged out of the restored prairie grass and joined the group.

“Here they are!” Ella  said. “This is my husband, Jamie. That’s baby Nora in the backpack. And, Jack is the little guy bouncing around and leading them all astray.”

“We brought them out here to get them into Nature on such a beautiful day,” Jamie explained as he shook hands with all four men. “Also, I’m working with restored prairies and wanted to see this one.”

The group returned to the parking area and then followed the trail to where it turned south and descended onto the floor of the abandoned pit.

As they continued along the trail to the west and south, Dick said, ”We’re going into an older part of the reclaimed gravel pit now. It dates back to the 1890s when the railroad pushed through here. They required a lot of gravel and we’ll stop next at a spur that connected the pit to the main roadbed across the creek.”

He and Ella led the group off to the south on a side trail and her family followed along behind. They all stopped on a hilltop that over-looked the small stream valley. The remnants  of a railroad grade remained close to the gravel pit where they stood.

“Here’s yet another example of the economic importance of our westward expansion!” John raised his voice as if he was lecturing to an auditorium filled with students.

Reverend Vander Strauss nodded agreement. “Absolutely correct! And another aspect of that march of civilization was the salvation that our Christian missionaries brought to the poor pagans!”

Jeff’s eyebrows flew up and he hunched his back into a defensive stance. “Well, there is an alternative view that the genocide and exploitation of the Native Americans was all part of an imperialist push to conquer the whole continent,” he said.

Ella cringed visibly and Dick looked down, smiling slightly, and shifted his feet.

“Didn’t I read that there was an effigy of a snake that was destroyed as a part of building the railroad?” Jeff asked.

Dick nodded and Ella answered, “That’s right. It was located somewhere over there across the creek where you can see the main railroad grade.”

“Aha!” Reverend Vander Strauss said. “That’s part of the victory of the forces of righteousness over the dark threat of the Serpent’s temptations!”

“That’s a really harsh way to describe what we did to the Native American cultures,” Jeff said in a clear voice and looked back toward the trail where Jamie and the children were playing in the grass.

“And what you’re parroting is a very ‘woke’ view of American history,” John said in an accusing tone. “There’s too much of that hand-wringing going on in academia these days!”

Ella called to her family, “We’re headed back to the main trail. You guys can go on ahead.”

Then she turned back to the three angry professors and said, “There’s more to all this than simplistic arguments about the winners and losers in religious and social conflicts! It’s a beautiful afternoon in a gorgeous landscape. I think that we should all be more respectful of both the place and of the depth of history that’s represented here,” she scolded in a quiet voice.

Dick nodded and chuckled softly. “Let’s go on down to the location where the new bridge is supposed to cross the creek,” he said.

The five tour participants followed the young father and his children as they jogged on ahead along the main trail and descended another gentle slope to the floodplain along the little stream.

At the creek crossing, Jamie helped his son take off his shoes and socks. Then he unslung the backpack and took baby Nora out of her ride. As the little boy ran into the shallow water, Jamie held the baby over the slightly rippled surface so that her bare toes just touched the water.

She laughed at her brother who splashed off after a frog.

“Isn’t this stream polluted?” Jeff pointedly asked. “Aren’t most waterways here in the Midwest carrying excessive levels of fertilizer and runoff from animal operations?”

“It’s true that there are problems in the general area, but the sampling upstream from here hasn’t turned up any problems so far,” Dick said.

“It’s all just the price of doing business,” John pontificated.

Reverend Vander Strauss nodded vigorously. “Our agribusiness infrastructure is feeding the rest of the world!” he said. “It’s part of America’s sacred mission.”

Ella tried again to diffuse the escalating discussion. “Is this where the new bridge will be located?” she asked Dick.

“It is, if it ever gets built,” Dick responded. “It’s been a long, drawn-out process but it looks like things are finally starting to come together.”

“What’s name of this stream again?” John asked.

“It’s called Blood Run,” Dick said.

“Where was the battlefield?” Reverend Vander Strauss asked.

Ella shook her head. “There is no battlefield that we know of.”

“It’s all part of the colonial propaganda that Native Americans were war-like and always causing trouble,” Jeff added.

Both Reverend Vander Straus and John looked like they were about to protest, when Ella spoke sharply, “Let’s go on up and look at the Pitted Boulder.”

“Ah, yes,” Jeff nodded knowingly. “Blood Run’s distinctive iconic landmark!” 

The party crossed the creek on well-placed stepping stones, scrambled up the channel bank on the west side of the stream and continued along the steepening trail. At the top of the climb, they paused on a flat terrace surface covered by another restored prairie.

“I was also wondering about this at the restored prairie back at the first stop,” Jamie said turning to Dick. “Was all of this work done by the state?”

“Actually, it was originally done be the county, but now the state supposedly has maintenance responsibilities,” Dick said. “So, there’s been confusion about who’s doing what and that’s probably also why the bridge development has been tied up so long.”

“The main mound group is right in front of us and extends off to the south into that plowed field,” Ella said waving her left hand toward the bare dirt exposed to the brisk spring breeze.

“We’ll walk west along the fence line toward the big river valley,” she continued. The Pitted Boulder is about a third of the way down the slope toward the valley bottom. It’s been the centerpiece of interest in Blood Run over the years because it’s so easy to see.”

As the group approached the Pitted Boulder, Jeff walked faster and stepped up to the side of the boulder as the rest of the party arrived.

“As I told you earlier, I’ve been working on the history of Blood Run,” he said. “In particular, I’ve been focused on why the Native Americans abandoned this site and it’s clear that it was the result of trade networks that were taken over by white entrepreneurs.”

“Now how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” John scoffed. And Reverend Vander Straus nodded his agreement.

“Well, I studied all the available early literature and the documents of the companies that were involved,” Jeff said.

“Those are good reliable sources,” John agreed. “I was afraid that you had used the oral traditions of the Indians.”

“Oh no! It’s is all based on published narratives and early maps of the region,” Jeff said. “I’ve never been in this part of the country before this and I’ve not talked to any Native Americans.”

“The printed word is infallible when it comes to historical research,” Reverend Vander Straus added. “The stories from superstitious savages cannot be considered reliable information! And furthermore, I don’t see how ignorant Indians could have built these mounds.”

Jamie grabbed Ella’s arm to restrain her as she lunged forward to challenge the discussion.

“The archaeological evidence is unequivocal,” she blurted. “And what’s more, there’s recent work that suggests that they had a very sophisticated understanding of this landscape where they built the mounds.”

“I did hear that old retired guy give his talk at the conference,” Jeff said. “But he’s an avocational archaeologist so his story about cultural patterns coinciding with southeast and northeast trends in the landscape can’t have a lot of credibility.”

“Besides, how could those primitive, ignorant people even measure compass directions?” Reverend Vander Straus asked.

Dick jumped into the discussion. “One of the people in our local citizens group has made some very distinctive observations here at the Pitted Boulder on the first day of summer and winter and on the first day of spring and fall.”

“The solstice and equinox days,” Jeff nodded. “They’re recognized in other Native American sites.”

“Too bad we can’t ask the Indians who lived here how they knew about the solstice and equinox, how they made those compass measurements and also why they left here,” John sneered. “But, unfortunately they’re no longer with us.”

“And their heathen religious practices are gone with them!” Reverend Vander Straus added.

“That’s not really true,” Ella shook her head. “Both the people and their culture are resilient and here with us in the present day. Do you know that there’s about the same number of urban Indians currently living in the nearby metropolitan area as there are estimated to have lived here at Blood Run when it was a busy trade center?”

“Nope. I did not know that,” Jeff admitted. “But, that’s the kind of useful information that I’m after for my research.”

“Well, you’d better check her sources,” John grumped, “Because I’m not at all certain that that’s an accurate statement.”

“It certainly doesn’t sound right to me either,” Reverend Vander Straus added. “I think that they have all been assimilated into the American way of life and that their old culture is dead and gone.”

“That is an incorrect statement! They are a persistent people and are active among us,” Ella lectured.

“Even if they’re not always recognized and honored as sovereign nations and vibrant cultures,” she added.

Dick looked up at the sun that had shifted closer to the top of the hills on the west side of the river valley. “It’s getting late,” He interrupted the increasingly sharp discussion. “We’d better start back.”

Ella nodded agreement and little Jack charged off along the mowed path with Ella, Jamie, and baby Nora right behind. The four men followed at a more leisurely pace.

After the young family had crossed the small stream and started up the slope to the abandoned gravel pit, Jamie said to Ella, “I’m sorry. That sorta degenerated into a baseless debate.”

Ella shrugged. “It happens a lot. Some of it is generational. Older folks have been subjected to the tropes of ‘pagan, ignorant, blood-thirsty savages’ for so long that it’s hard to even talk about these things. On the other hand, there’s also the problem of ignorance and invisibility.”

“There are similar problems with the way people perceive Nature,” Jamie said.

“Right. How can you respect something that you have no experience with and are ignorant about?” Ella agreed.

By this time, they had reached the parking area and were loading the kids into their car as the four men walked up.

Jeff shook Ella’s hand and slapped Dick on the shoulder. “Thanks for the tour! I learned a lot!”

Dick shook hands with John and Reverend Vander Straus, “Come back and see us anytime,” he said.

The two professors added their thanks to both Ella and Dick and followed Jeff back to his rental car.

“Thank you for coming on the tour and safe travels,” Ella called after the three men.

“You want to get a beer and discuss some of the things that we’ve seen toady?” Jeff asked as they got to the car.

“I guess so,” John was a bit noncommittal. “My plane doesn’t leave for several more hours.”

“I can’t,” Reverend Vander Straus said. “I need to get back and it’s several hours of driving time.”

By this time the sun had just touched the hilltops on across the valley and a slight breeze had sprung up in response to the lengthening shadows.

And Blood Run Creek continued it’s slow flow into the big river.

And the mysteries and secrets of the “Silent City” rested safely in the land covered by tall grass prairie

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Awkward Acknowledgement

Three people read an earlier version of this short story and I thank them for that. However, I won’t list my co-conspirators by name to protect their innocence. One of them advised me to write what I know about….even the fiction. So, that’s what I’ve tried to do here. We’ll get back to the archaeology at Blood Run in the next post. Thanks for your patience.

As a “recovering academic” I do still have institutional axes to grind, but at least I’m writing about things that I know about! Although it’s been a long time since I’ve done it, I have literally decades of experience around professors on field trips. And in my experience, running tours for professors is like herding cats.