I am an archaeologist. I continue to be amazed at how frequently, after telling that to people who ask what I do, I get the response: “Ooo! I’ve always been interested in that!” I admit it’s quite gratifying to hear from strangers that they are fascinated by my profession.
When I relate that common reaction to the students in my introductory archaeology course—the great majority of whom are enrolled simply for general education credit and are majoring in just about anything other than archaeology—I let them in on a little secret. I tell them that when most of them will be asked their majors or their professions after college—at a family function, a party, a bar, or on the bus—the great majority of them will not get a reaction like that. Sorry, but it’s the sad truth; in the history of the world, when someone has been asked their college major or profession and they have responded “accounting,” no one has ever said, “Ooo! I’ve always been interested in that.” Oh well.
I think the interest most people express about archaeology rests in their assumption that archaeologists get to spend a lot of their time in remarkable places where extraordinary evidence of ancient human cultures can be found. They think we focus our professional lives on digging up incredibly cool artifacts, objects made all the more interesting because we are the first people to see or touch them since they were left in the ground hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, or even more years ago. The Great Sphinx and ancient burial chambers (figure P.1), masterfully flaked spear points and remarkable art etched on rock surfaces (figure P.2), pottery shards, impressive cliff dwellings, monumental pyramids—that’s what most people think of when they imagine the kinds of things archaeologists deal with on a daily basis.
iStock ID: 516505363; Credit: gbarm
Figure P.1. Splendid monuments like the Great Sphinx of Egypt (top) and intriguing structures like the Chun Quoit burial chamber located in Cornwall, England (bottom), are emblematic of the ancient worlds investigated by archaeologists.
Courtesy of the author.
Figure P.2. Artifacts, like this 1,600-year-old stone blade found in Granby, Connecticut (top), can inform archaeologists about the technology of an ancient people, and this petroglyph (art etched into a rock surface) in Nine Mile Canyon, Utah (bottom), can tell us about their artistic and even their spiritual lives.
Courtesy of the author.
This is the point in the conversation where you might think I am about to disabuse you of these romantic notions of what archaeology is all about and then tell you how it really is. But I can’t do that. What I’ve just told you about archaeology is, in large measure, true. We archaeologists do devote our careers to studying the amazing things and places I’ve just enumerated, but not simply because those things are beautiful or interesting or remarkable, or even because they are old. Our focus is on the amazing and engaging stories we can tell about past and also present cultures through the study of those beautiful, interesting, remarkable, and sometimes ancient things that people left behind. It’s no wonder to me that most people are interested in that.
I have always been fascinated by human antiquity, and I have been lucky enough to have carved out a career in which I get to actually do archaeology and then write about my work (figure P.3). Granted, I need to hire an accountant to do my taxes, and I appreciate their diligent efforts. I don’t want to rub it in, but nope, I’ve never told an accountant: “Ooo! I’ve always been interested in that.” Sorry to all you accountants reading this guide.
Figure P.3. Excavating a 3,000-year-old tool-making feature in Barkhamsted, Connecticut. The white-haired guy is the author.
Recognizing that many people find the study of the human past inherently fascinating, I have spent the better part of my career attempting to communicate to those fascinated nonarchaeologists the real stories of the human past as revealed by real archaeological research, through the books and articles I have written, lectures I have given, interviews I have provided on cable television documentaries, and even through my Instagram (ancientamerica50sites) and twitter accounts (@fiftysitesbook).
My most recent book reflects this precisely: Ancient America: Fifty Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself (Feder 2017). I refer to that book as a “time travel guide” to fifty of the most interesting archaeological sites in the United States, all of which are open to the public. The book is filled with information about ancient burial mounds (figure P.4) and cliff dwellings (figure P. 5), gigantic free-standing pueblos, spectacular rock art (figure P.6), monumentally scaled ground drawings, and more. If this sounds like a ploy on my part to convince you to buy that book, well, that’s very perceptive of you.
Figure P.4. Cemetery Mound, Marietta, Ohio; one of the sites highlighted in my book Ancient America: Fifty Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself.
Figure P.5. Square Tower House Ruin, one of the breathtaking cliff dwellings enshrined in Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado; Ancient America: Fifty Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself.
Figure P.6. I included many rock art sites in my fifty sites book, including those located at McKee Springs in Dinosaur National Monument (top) and the Great Gallery in Horseshoe Canyon (bottom), both in Utah.
Courtesy of the author.
Along with focusing some of my publications on real-deal archaeology, I have also devoted a significant part of my career to writing about the many misconceptions people have about what the archaeological record actually tells us about human antiquity. I have written fairly extensively on the topic of what is often called “fringe” or “pseudo-archaeology” with its claims of archaeological oddities including evidence of: ancient aliens visiting the Earth in antiquity and mating (you read that right) with proto-humans (to create our current species); those same aliens providing technological secrets to our ancestors, enabling them to build pyramids and other great monuments; residents of the Lost Continent of Atlantis spreading to all corners of the world and giving primitive people agriculture, writing, and principles of engineering; seafaring Europeans and Southwest Asians traveling to the Americas long before the voyages of Christopher Columbus or even the Norse and interacting with the Native People of the New World. I have written two books that focus on these and many other varieties of fake or speculative archaeology: Frauds, Myths, and Mysteries: Science and Pseudoscience in Archaeology, 9th edition (Feder 2018) and Encyclopedia of Dubious Archaeology: From Atlantis to Walam Olum (Feder 2010). If it seems like, there he goes again, shamelessly flogging more of his books, you’d be wrong. I am very much ashamed, but I wouldn’t mind it if you devoted an entire bookshelf in your home library to my books. In fact, I think that would be a terrific idea.
This leads to an explanation of my purpose and perspective in this book. In fact, as the cliché goes, it’s kind of a funny story. In late 2016, soon after the aforementioned Ancient America was sent to the printers, I had a very nice conversation with Leanne Silverman, then my editor at the publisher Rowman & Littlefield, just sort of wrapping up and decompressing after a very busy year of site visits, writing, editing, and indexing. Half-jokingly, I am sure, Leanne asked: “Okay, Kenny, when would you like to start working on Ancient America II: Fifty More Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself?”
I was, needless to say, a little taken aback by the question. I was exhausted after finishing Ancient America and didn’t really want to think about another book, at least not right away. Of course, I loved working with the folks at Rowman & Littlefield—Leanne has since moved on but she was a joy to work with—and I certainly enjoy visiting archaeological sites and then writing about them in an effort to encourage people to personally visit and experience these magical places for themselves. So I didn’t necessarily want to turn Leanne down or sound like I hadn’t already given it some thought, but, in reality, I hadn’t given the idea of a follow-up book any thought at all.
So I panicked. Synapses fired in my exhausted brain leading to an epiphany—or maybe it was insanity, you decide. Again, only half-seriously, I said: “Well, Leanne, you know of my existing interest and publications related to archaeology at the fringes. How about this: instead of a book simply highlighting fifty additional legitimate archaeological sites, what if I were to start a project that combined my interest in fake and strange sites—here called archaeological oddities—with the approach of my fifty real sites book, and do an equivalent travel guide to those curious places and objects, explaining why popular interpretations of those sites and artifacts are not necessarily accepted by professional archaeologists, but are nevertheless fascinating and worth seeing for yourself?”
At that moment there was a dramatic and lengthy pause in the conversation. I distinctly remember thinking, “Oh well, Leanne is going to think that’s a terrible idea for a book,” while at the same time I thought, “But, you know, that might actually be a pretty good idea.” At last Leanne broke the silence and responded, “Hey, that sounds like it might be a lot of fun.” I was surprised by her reaction and, at the same time, excited about the prospect of what my fevered brain imagined could be an entertaining and sort of twisted version of my fifty sites book; a field guide to strange, weird, dubious, or just plain odd archaeological sites or archaeologically themed places here in the United States. With Leanne’s encouragement, in a couple of months I had submitted a prospectus for the book and soon thereafter signed a contract with Rowman & Littlefield. You are now holding a copy of that book in your hands or on your tablet.
At least from an author’s perspective, Leanne’s notion that such a book might be a lot of fun was absolutely spot on. Researching, conducting site visits, and writing about the fascinating places highlighted in this book, in fact, were all great fun for me. My fondest hope is that reading about these places and maybe even visiting them for yourself is as much fun for you.
One final point. Though initially this book was going to focus exclusively on archaeological sites that have been misrepresented in popular media, I decided that a relentlessly negative book—a play-by-play debunking of every one of the places featured on these pages—just might not be the kind of fun Leanne and I had in mind. After all, there are in North America a fair number of whimsical, entertaining, and even silly examples of the use of archaeology in an attempt to amuse and maybe even inspire people. In those cases, there is no attempt to fool visitors or support any particular ideology. These sites were created to entertain and are intended to be fun or thought provoking. So, as you will see, there is an entire category of these just-for-fun sites highlighted in this book as well.
In the following chapter I will introduce you to the entire concept of “archaeological oddities.” I’ll provide my breakdown of the types of archeological oddities discussed in this book—technically, a taxonomy of site types—with detailed descriptions of what those sites are about and, where appropriate, why archaeologists are skeptical of the validity or accuracy of some of their more extraordinary interpretations. Next I will provide a very short bit of background about real archaeology in North America, offering the professional archaeological consensus on the culture history of North America. After that I will present forty entries, each focusing on a particular site or sites. So now, as musician and composer David Bowie might phrase it, it is time to “turn and face the strange.”