Saturday, October 29, 2011

The Second Interest Meeting

A gentle reminder to all that the second interest meeting of the Virginia Maritime Heritage Society and Conservation Association will continue to be held on November 5th. This is a week away. We will meet out front of the Mariners Museum and hopefully if Dr. Boradwater can still attend we might tour the facilities. If he can not make it to the meeting we will either tour the Museum as a group or individually before we have a business meeting either at the Museum cafeteria or a nearby cafe or deli. I will be coming down as I have promised my fiance to show her the Museum as this is her first time in the USA. I hope to see as many of you make this meeting as possible as I plan to be more active in this area as my M.A. thesis in Maritime Archaeology on the use of time on the Swedish warship Vasa under the directorship of Thijs Maarleveld and Fred Hocker is under final review, and I am looking for employment in this field on the east coast of the US, preferably Virginia.




Best to all!

Jason Lunze

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Back in Virginia

I was once told by one of my first employer’s years ago that the role of the employer is to, “nurture and not torture”. In that she meant that those in power have a responsibility to support those who dedicate not only their time but in many cases their lives to common pursuits of manual and intellectual labor in which even the humblest of laborers could take pride that the small work that they do is not in vain or for singular self absorption. With the upcoming Second Interest Meeting of the Virginia Maritime Heritage Society and as I try to debug my thesis on my own with only my humble singular intellect to follow as I am not tied into any intellectual feedback, I find myself pondering these words once again.
I began my studies abroad in the field of maritime archaeology with the hopes and dreams of helping others, the ultimate aspiration of the society who raised me. What I find however, as I have traveled and gone down this road is the fact that I am more alone now than I ever was as a student in community college. I am writing my thesis after all in the same house as the last one, for the only reason that I think it is important to be written and well researched. It luckily, ties in with my background, as I am a clockmaker of the pre-mass production mindset, and the clocks that I restore as I write my thesis give me the background knowledge to write something which is not full of overarching historical statements which have little basis outside of academic penmanship.
I was once accused of having no redeemable academic qualities, but behind this was a friend’s deep concern that I would not compromise my hardworking integrity. I to this day do not like people calling me “sir”, for I have neither the age nor the standing in the community to have earned such a distinction. My workman’s humility was the same reason why when I was asked to chair my own session at a Geological Society of America at the age of 21, I politely turned the committee’s request down as it would have been “…arrogant presumption to presume that I was the only speaker with the knowledge and place to dictate unto others.” As I humbly debug my thesis and try to do the best job I can as I mow peoples yards, pave driveways, and clean clocks; keep this humility which was so alien to my academic counterparts’ minds close to my heart but with pride and without fear or resentment for the hand I have been dealt. I will work the hardest that any student with student debt which must be paid off and travel tickets to book can be expected to with the best hopes for the same mindset of those who come to the interest meeting to match. We all work towards the same goal; that of the stewardship of the past.
I am not the only one and never have been, I value all opinions. I seek all counsel to learn and help others. I have learned, however, as I climb the “Ivory Tower” that family is important above all else and no-one will take care of you or your own dreams as well as you can. So while I am dedicated to the cause of preserving the submerged cultural heritage of the world, and Virginia in particular, perhaps my colleagues and fellows in the field will find space in their academic hearts to let this worker take a break and let him take the time to show his new love the New World this October.



Sincerely,
Jason Lunze.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Searching for Facts or Truths?

I will say first off that I am contemplative tonight.  I am writing the second chapter of my thesis in Maritime Archaeology at Syddansk Universitet, while I am packing down my apartment because I cannot afford my rent any longer.  Editing the first chapter will most likely take till I hand in my last chapter in August but this doesn’t trouble me.  What troubles me is where do I go from here?  I have been unable to find paying work here in Denmark and as Syddansk Universitet is not accredited with the federal student loan agencies back in the states which means that even if I wanted to do my Ph. D. here I simply cannot afford to.  I am leaving loved ones and friends here, which is also not sitting well.  I remind myself the words I told a colleague years ago, although to me it seems as if it were only yesterday; that I would flip hamburgers to continue to do this, and may have to.  
Why might you ask?  Why would a person subject themselves to a life of constant moving and a perpetual state of what many have called my “near homelessness”?  The answer lies with what I believe and what I study.  I as an archaeologist and social scientist study the historical human past.  I use selective groups of objects from that disembodied past to tell narratives to help me as a researcher and others the things that we not only take for granted, but the things which were lost that are now forgotten to history.  I am a detective on an endless hunt for as Indiana Jones said “Facts” although sometime my research could be characterized for the search for “Truths”.  This journey will never make me rich in monetary standards, but I hope to receive, and have received a wealth of knowledge through my travels.  Knowledge I hope to one day give back to the greater public.
Being out of money, I will make the best of what I have on my plate.  Hope for more, and continue to help my friends, though packing and writing my second chapter is going to take time away from them.  I am no recluse, I just enjoy the feeling of history.  As I have said it before, in our hardest moments we can look back on the not so distant past and know that someone else also struggled and overcame.  History is a blanket that you can wrap yourself up in, but moreover it is a tool which can bring joy and fulfillment to millions.  James Deetz once wrote in a fairly famous book that I hope I don’t have to mention that historical archaeology was an expensive way of discovering facts and truths about our past which we could presumably glean from other sources.  In this he challenged all historical archaeologists to better define what we do and how we contribute unique dialogues to the field of the humanities and social sciences. I contribute by engaging it and sharing it…even if it never put a piece of gold in my pocket or kept me physical warm at night.  I will be headed back to Virginia most likely in two months. I need to stop in Sweden to do some archive research before I go.  I will be writing and working on refining my thesis as I travel, and I will keep the great memories of my friends, loved ones, colleagues in Europe in my heart.  I have work to do in Virginia, as much as I would like to stay here in Europe I don’t have skills that are valued here when a resident of this country is present.  If I seem mournful over the coming days- it is only that I wish I could have stayed longer and seen more, but that is not a regret- for I have done all I could.  I will have to give all I can to Virginia when I return and hopefully one day I will be called back to Denmark.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

To give you an idea...

A friend just asked me how hard it is to write grants and what is the format, so I have decided to post one of the bad ones I wrote years ago to give you an idea :)  This is a rejected NSF proposal, but it gives you the idea of format to use.  I hope it helps some :)


Paleo Grant Proposal.
Jason Lunze


Systematic analysis using stable C and N isotopes to better determine the possible interactions between the late Pleistocene and early Holocene populations of Homo sapiens and Canis dirus, Arctodus simus, Panthera atrox, and Smilodon californicus of late Pleistocene and early Holocene North America.

“Were these groups in direct competition for resources?”
(A yes or no question.)

I propose the question, “Were large predators of the late Pleistocene in direct competition for resources with arriving populations of Homo sapiens in North America?”


I propose that the problem of small sample sizes for the direct stable isotope comparison between early human populations and late large Pleistocene carnivores of North America can be overcome by comparing deposits of carnivore middens to human occupation and kill sites.  In this not only can we determine the species by counting, but in the case of well butchered animal remains by humans that the C, and N values may be useful in comparing the proportion of distinct groups of primary consumers who were then consumed.  This is useful as 1.) The extant amount of human bone material for comparison for this interval is negligible, 2.)  The extant amount of bone material as consumed by both groups although somewhat less for the large carnivores is relatively abundant, 3.) Bones from both deposits may be fragmentary and hard to identify, and 4.)  The types of isotope signatures for humans before and after the extinction event can be compared to those of the extinct carnivores to see if there decline was due to the disappearance of large herbivores presumed to be their obligate prey or the direct competition of humans who would have the same isotope signature after the extinction event.  All material would have to be screened carefully and time averaged.

Research: Using Stable C and N Isotopes to Explore the Possible Interactions Between the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene Populations of Homo sapiens and Canus dirus, Arctodus simus, Panthera atrox, and Smilodon californicus in North America.  Were these groups in direct competition for resources?


Much research has been devoted to the decline and extinction of the North American megafauna.  Three main causes for this extinction have been proposed.  Firstly, that the extinction was caused by the peopling of North America by early Ice Age hunter gatherers.  Secondly, that the extinction was caused by climate change at the end of the last ice age.  Lastly, that disease may have been a primary contributor.  Most studies concerning that the extinction was anthropogenic have focused on the interactions between large herbivores and the immigrating human populations (Martin and Klein 1984, and Koch et al. 1998).  Little work has been done to examine the interactions between humans and large megafaunal predators.
I propose the question, “Were large predators of the late Pleistocene in direct competition for resources with arriving populations of Homo sapiens in North America?”  The problem of small sample sizes for the direct stable isotope comparison between early human populations and late Pleistocene megafaunal carnivores of North America can be overcome by comparing deposits of carnivore middens to human occupation and kill sites.  In this not only can we determine the species by counting as in previous studies (Mead and Meltzer 1985), but in the case of well-butchered and or small animal remains consumed by humans and predators that are not accounted for taxonomically can also be counted so that the C, and N values may be useful in comparing the proportion of distinct groups of primary consumers who were then consumed.  This is useful as 1.) The total amount of human bone material for comparison for this interval is negligible (Leper 2004), 2.)  The extant amount of bone material as consumed by both groups although somewhat less for the large carnivores is relatively abundant (Haynes 1984), 3.) Bones from both deposits may be fragmentary and hard to identify (Mead and Meltzer 1985), and 4.)  The types of isotope signatures for humans before and after the extinction event can be compared to those of the extinct carnivores to see if their decline was due to the disappearance of large herbivores presumed to be their obligate prey or the direct competition of humans who would have the same isotope signature after the extinction event.  All material would have to be screened carefully to positively identify consumption by either group and have good time constraints for comparison.

Intellectual Merit of Research: This study would be the first to examine if the populations of human hunter-gathers who crossed from Beringia were hunting the same prey as the Pleistocene megafaunal carnivores of North America.  This is useful as it would show how the arrival of man may have directly affected the upper members of the North American food web, in contrast to the better studied effects on herbivores.  This study would provide an isotopic signature for species which have not been characterized in previous studies as to their relations to their prey species during this geologic period and would better define the upper portion of the North American megafaunal food web.

Far Reaching Implications:  The reconstruction of the interactions between Homo sapiens and Pleistocene megafaunal carnivores has modern impacts for reconstructing habitats for currently endangered species such as the modern Bengal tiger and grey wolf populations in developing and third world regions by giving a baseline for the overlap of predators and prey. 

Introduction

            It has been noted that there is a temporal correlation between the peopling of North America during the late Pleistocene and the decline of the North American megafauna (Haynes 1984).  However, while there are many kill sites fossil human remains for this period are scant and much controversy surrounds them (Lepper 2004).  No more than twenty sets of remains exist for the Pleistocene or early Holocene in North America (Bonnichsen et al 2005). Because the ages of these Paleo-Indian remains are controversial, as well as they are very rare and not easily accessible to study another method must be used to correlate their interactions with the large Pleistocene carnivores Canus dirus, Arctodus simus, Panthera atrox, and Smilodon californicus.  One way to do this is to look at the specific trophic levels of the prey species they consumed.
            This is complicated as it is hard to distinguish which faunal remains that were consumed by humans versus those brought in by other animals.  A similar problem exists with the remains consumed by the large predators.  This is enhanced for the predators because their faunal remains are preserved in a variety of settings (Mead and Meltzer 1985).   At many excavated Paleo-Indian sites it is hard to distinguish between the two groups as well due to the presence of gnaw marks on apparent human kills (Fox et al 1992).  A strict but comparable study group must be established before a comparison can be drawn.
  These early human settlers are well represented by faunal remains from both Late Pleistocene and early Holocene sites.  One Pleistocene and Holocene site in Pennsylvania, the Meadowcroft Rockshelter yielded 115,166 bones or bone fragments of which it is postulated that 7% were of Indian origin.  These remains constituted a duration of deposition of roughly 10,000 yrs with some assemblages being pre-Clovis.  The charred remains of toads, colubrid snakes, deer mice, and deer can be dated before 9,350 B.C. This may represent a faunal assemblage of predominantly small game for early humans at this local.  However, at the Burnet and Hermits cave localities in New Mexico a large amount of large ungulate material is found in association with human artifacts from this period including Mammuthus (Mead and Meltzer 1985). 
The first undisputed population of humans in North America belonged to that of the ClovisClovis artifacts are often found in association with Mammoth, mastodon, and other megafaunal remains (Fox et al 1992).  They are also found in conjunction with small game.  However, faunal remains are hard to specifically link to human consumption. At the Ryan Harley site in Florida, 368 bone specimens representing faunal remains were recovered, representing all five major classes of vertebrates, and evidence was given for the extraction of marrow from deer and alligator remains (Bonnichsen et al 2005).  This can be seen as (figure 1). Once again while there are some remains which represent the megafauna, small game is heavily represented in the faunal assemblages.
           


Figure 1. Bonnichsen et al. 2005.

The Large Pleistocene carnivores Canus dirus, Arctodus simus, Panthera atrox, and Smilodon californicus are also represented by deposites of animal prey remains.  As with those of human faunal remains it is difficult to link prey remains to specific predators.  These predators also are represented in the fossil record by many depositional environments, around lakes, salt licks, dens, or general killsites. (Mead and Meltzer 1985).   These remains are hard to distinguish from those of faunal remains butchered by humans (Fox et al 1992).   An example of this can be seen as figure 2.  This overlap implies some resource sharing even before an investigation is conducted, and helps vindicate a comparative study.
Figure 2. Fox et al. 1992.

The large canivores Canus dirus, Arctodus simus, Panthera atrox, and Smilodon californicus were cracking bones as human hunter-gathers were,  this is evident in their tooth wear.  The teeth of dire wolves from Rancho La Brae were found to have more fractures than contemporary wolves, a pattern which mimics modern hyenas and other large predator species which regularly crack large bones to extract marrow (Binder et al. 2002).  Similar results were found for Smilodon (Naples 2002).  
“The demise of the dire wolf and other large predators during the late Pleistocene may have been linked to the declining densities of large herbivorous prey and/or the inability of some specialized predators to switch successfully to smaller prey…Canis dirus probably sustained its large body size by selecting predominantly large prey in regions where it roamed (Fox-Dobbs et al. 2003, Anyonge and Roman 2006)”.  The stable C and N values as examined by Fox-Dobbs et al. 2003 would indicate that this species of carnivore preferred prey species which were predominantly ruminants such as bison.  Similar values were found for Smilodon (Fox-Dobbs et al. 2004).
There are also examples of large grazers which were predated by these carnivores, mammoth kills may have also have been scavenged as in the case of figure 2.  There has been some speculation as to the mode by which the saber toothed cats took their prey. Lackey 2002 postulated that Smilodon may have been capable of taking down a full grown mammoth or mastodon in a group but probably was restricted to the calves of these species and smaller game.  A similar conclusion was drawn by Naples in 2002.  It is generally held by many authors that the short faced bear Arctodus Simus would have been capable of taking down most of the Pleistocene megafauna (Mead and Meltzer 1985 and Fox et al. 1992).
Methods: As can be concluded from the introduction a careful selection process must begin before any analysis of the stable isotopes of the faunal remains for the early hunter-gatherers and the extinct Pleistocene carnivores is to be performed.  Both Fox et al. 1992 as well as Bonnichsen et al. 2005 have shown that it is often difficult to link faunal remains to predators.  However, once again as the remains of both groups, especially those of Paleo-Indians are not abundant and readily accessible for study, the comparison of stable isotopes from the faunal remains of both groups is one of the only means to construct a comparison between these two groups.
To distinguish between the two groups a criteria for material to be studied from each must be established.  The material to be studied from the human faunal remains will only be taken from site(s) which have well established radiometric dates for the purpose of comparison to temporally comparable carnivore remains.  The sampled material will included as much material as possible, both identifiable taxonomically as well as that which can not be identified to eliminate any selective biases.  The material will come from close contextual association with Paleo-Indian or Archaic Indian lithic artifacts.  All material for the human faunal remains will exclude all material which has later gnaw marks from scavenging.  Only those which have the green fractured nature as described by Bonnichsen et al. 2005 as shown in figure 1 will be included.  Charred material from hearths will not be included to eliminate alteration to the Stable C and N ratios.  A site(s) were an abundance of faunal material across the Pleistocene-Holocene megafaunal extinction occurred will be chosen to see if the isotope pattern changes after the extinction changes.
Material for the large megafaunal carnivores will be taken from a contemporaneous site isolated but within 50 km. of that of the human hunter-gather material, and must have a similar age of deposition.   Accurate radiometric dates for these deposits are also important and must be within 1000 yrs. of the human site.   An attempt will be made to determine the species of predator, where unidentifiable it will be assigned to be unknown but will be included in the study.  Only material with clear gnaw marks as described by Fox et al. 1992 will be included in this group.  Material which can be taxonomically identified will be included as well as bone fragments which cannot.
For both groups screening will be performed to verify that enough collagen for the stable C and N analysis is present.  An example of the amino acid spectra necessary to draw this conclusion can be seen in figure 3.  This is of concern for both the human as well as predator groups as the C:N ratio for the human faunal remains may be modified by cooking, and both have the possibility to undergo diagenesis which would as modify the results.  Bones and bone fragments with unfused epiphyses will also be included in both groups to see if predation of immature prey was favored by either group.  This may be important as adults are often the focus of large kill site faunal remains associated with humans (Mead and Meltzer 1985).  Juveniles are associated with the Pleistocene megafaunal carnivores (Palmqvist et al. 2003).
Figure 3. Palmqvist et al 2003.

Once this is completed the C and N ratio will be plotted graphically for both the large carnivores and the human hunter-gatherer faunal remains.  This data will include the standard deviation and error.   These two groups will be plotted together so that a t-test can be performed to see if the groups are statistically distinct.  The C and N ratios for the samples before and after the extinction for the human hunter-gatherers will then be plotted on a similar graph to see if there is any significant statistical difference in the ratio before and after.  A sample plot of different species can be seen in figure 4.
Figure 4.  Palmqvist et al. 2003.

Concluding Thoughts:  Once the data has been collected and plotted some general conclusions can be drawn.  If the C and N ratios for the faunal remains and the predators during the Pleistocene turn out to be statistically different as determined by the t-test than these groups may not have been in direct competition for prey resources.  If they however group together than they may have been in competition for resources.  This conclusion would be supported if the C and N ratios before and after the extinction for the  human hunter-gatherer faunal remains changed as this would indicate that the Paleo-Indian population shifted its focus to other game after it out competed the predators by overkill.  This may make sense as, “From the fossil record of their last 10,000 years, native Americans can claim to have lived benignly in their environment, neither causing nor witnessing many additional losses after the catastrophe of 11,000 years ago (Agenbroad et al. 1990)”.




References:

Agenbroad, L. D.; Mead, J. I.; Nelson, L. W.  Megafauna & Man, Discovery of America’s Heartland.  The Mammoth Site Hot Springs, South Dakota, Inc.,  Scientific Papers, Vol. 1.  August 1990.

Agenbroad, L. D.; Barton, B. R.  North American Mammoths, An Annotated Bibliography.  The Mammoth Site Hot Springs, South Dakota, Inc., Scientific Papers, Vol. 2.  December 1991.

Anyonge, W.; Roman, C.  New Body Mass Estimates for Canis Dirus, The Extinct Pleistocene Dire Wolf.  Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, vol 26. issue 1, March 2006.

Bonnichsen, R.; Lepper, B. T.; Stanford, D.; Waters, M. R.  Paleo-American Origins: Beyond Clovis.  Center for the Study of the First Americans, Department of Anthropology, Texas A&M University 2005.

Delcourt, P. A.; Delcourt, H. R.  Ecological Studies 63, Long-Term Forest Dynamics of the Temperate Zone. Springer-Verlag, New York, Berlin, Heidelberg, London, Paris, Tokyo. 1987.

Fox, J. W.; Smith, C. B.; Wilkins, K. T.  Proboscidean and Paleoindian Interactions, Baylor University Press 1992.

Harris, J. M.; Jefferson, G. T.  Rancho La Brea: Treasures of the Tar Pits. Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County, 1985.

Haynes, G.  Mammoths, mastodonts, and elephants. Biology, behavior, and the fossil record.  Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Haynes, G.  The Early Settlement of North America, The Clovis Era. Cambridge University Press 2002.

Hoppe, K. A.  Late Pleistocene mammoth herd structure, migration patterns, and Clovis hunting strategies inferred from isotopic analyses of multiple death assemblages.  Paleobiology, vol. 30, issue 1, January 2004.

Kurten, B.; Anderson, E.  Pleistocene Mammals of North America, Columbia University Press 1980.

Lepper, B.; Bonnichsen, R.  New Perspectives on the First Americans, A Peopling of the Americas Publication 2004.

Martin, P. S.; Klein, R. G.  Quaternary Extinctions, A Prehistoric Revolution, The University of Arizona Press 1984.

McAvoy, J. M.  Clovis Settlement Patterns: The 30 year study of a late Ice Age hunting culture on the Southern Interior Coastal Plain of Virginia, Nottoway River Survey, Part I.  Archaeological Society of Virginia, Special Publication Number 28, Nottoway River Publications, Research Report Number 1. 1992.

Meltzer, D. J.; Mead, J. I.  Environments and Extinctions: Man in Late Glacial North America. Center for the Study of Early Man, University of Maine at Orono, 1985.

Merceron, G.; Zazzo, A.; Spassov, N.; Geraads, D.; Kovachev, D.  Bovid paleoecology and paleoenvironments from the late Miocene of Bulgaria: Evidence from dental microwear and stable isotopes. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology. Vol. 241, Issues 3-4, 14 November 2006, pp. 637-654.

Palmqvist, P.; Grocke, D. R.; Arribas, A.; Farina, R. A. Paleoecological reconstruction of a lower Pleistocene Large mammal community using Biochemical (δ13C, δ15N, δ18O, Sr:Zn) and ecomorphological approaches. Paleobiology, vol. 29, issue 2, June 2003.

Sellards, E. H. Human Remains and Associated Fossils from the Pleistoce of Florida.  Doctoral dissertation 1913.

Spencer, L. M.; Valkenburgh, B. V.; Harris, J. M.  Taphonomic analysis of large mammals recovered from the Pleistocene Rancho La Brea tar seeps. Paleobiology, vol. 29, issue 4, December 2003.

Zakrzewski, R. J.  Biodiversity response to climate change in the Middle Pleistocene-the Porcupine Cave fauna from Colorado.  Journal of Paleontology, vol. 79, issue 6, November 2005.




A bedtime story and the beginning of my work for the next four months...

It was a warm summer’s day on August 10th 1628 when a man known only to history as Filipe pensively walked across the weather deck of Sweden’s newest and largest warship Vasa moored at Stadsholmen in Stockholm Harbor.  It was not for the weather or settling in that Filipe had his mind with this day.  He like the new ships crew of 133 men had largely been onboard for months packing and provisioning the ship (Cederlund et al. 2006, 52-54).  What worried Filipe was the stability tests of this new vessel had been anything but favorable, and as it was his duty as helmsman to navigate the ship through the harbor and then to open water under the direction of the officers (Sveriges Krig 1937, 46-51).  As helmsman he was not only responsible for sailing the ship, but also navigation on the Baltic, knowing the sheets of each sail and watching them from his vantage point in the steerage (Cederlund et al. 2006, 17-19 and 320-324).  Filipe was not in steerage now, it was about noon and two of the crew were having an argument; the profosser and the master gunner were at each others throats again (Cederlund et al. 2006, 52-54).  This time it was over the determination of the hour on the sunny day by each of their imported Nuremberg diptych sundials to call the noon hour (Vasa artefact number’s 4971, 1973, and 9777; Gouk 1988, 7-23).  Their argument ended with laughter after the bells of both Riddarholm Kyrkan and Sankt Nikolai Kyrkan rang out six bells of the canonical hours to call the noon based upon the pias observations of those clergymen onshore (Lundin and Strindberg, 1882; Liisberg 1905).  Filipe reminded himself that such arguments would cease between these two men once they picked up the marines down the cost and proceeded towards the Polish front (Sveriges Krig 1937, 180-183 and 199-205).  He also reminded himself that this would not be a pleasure cruise and the risks were great, Solen had been lost so recently just the year before (Sveriges Krig 1937, 171-177).
Two things gave him a measure of comfort though as he walked across the weather deck by railing and looked over the newly cast armament of his new home, the 46 brand new 24 pounders made a male chauvinistic impression pridefully, as he walked to his post in steerage (Cederlund et al 2006, 50-54; KA AR 1628, 37).  This guns had been run out so that a fairwell salute could be fired as they left the city (Cederlund et al. 2006, 53-54; RA RR 1628, 667).  As he climbed down the ladder into steerage just forward the great cabin, the other reassurance came to mind as he heard and felt the weight of coins in his breeches pocket, the few newly minted copper coins (Cederlund et al. 2006, 16-18 and 320-323; Stolt, Wallin, and Hocker: Vasa Plan 2).  He was after all getting paid.  Filipe would have much rather stayed on the weather deck, but the tolling of the six bells marked and important part of his job, the turning of the hourglasses (Sveriges Krig 1937, 12-24 and 46-51; Vasa artefact number’s 1150, 1136, 1235, 14105 and 14570).  As he walked across the steerage floor to his post he looked up through the break in the paneling of the poop deck which allowed him to sea the men preparing to bend four sheets on the masts and then up at the godly painted cherubs and other wall carvings (Cederlund et al. 2006, 321; RA AR 1628, 667).  Looking down at a boxlike structure, he reached and opened the glass and lead caned lid to the ships binnacle, and turned over the three hourglasses (Cederlund et al. 2006, 321-322; Vivielle 1977, 8-10; Waters 1955, 157-169).  As he did so he could hear two strange noises behind him; two distinct clicking sounds, both of which staccatic in rhythm.  He knew these where the two mechanical clocks owned by the admiral and the captian (Vasa artefact number’s B252, 6655, 6662, 7727, 7487, 16128, 10567, 6279, 16427, 14894, 7204, 7818, and 11700).
            The gothic table clock in the great cabin was a thing which this man had become used to, iron and wood framed they where common in noble households during the preceeding two centuries.  The other sound he new was different, a much faster beat, and then he heard a small bell chime out twelve bells (Liisberg 1905; Astrand 1980).  This German clock was different than the Dutch gothic wall clock in that it kept better time, so much so that Filipe wasn’t going to be able to flip over the hourglasses early to shorten his watch as he had done so often in the past (Waters 1955, 157-169; Vivielle 1977, 8).  Filipe sat down on one of the folding benches and waited till the lines were cast of from Stadsholmen, and continued to turn over the sandglasses every half hour till his watch was almost over to turn over his job to the second helmsmen.  Moving the ship through the Swedish archipelago would be an exhausting job with near continuous vigilance (Sveriges Krig 1937, 46-84).  Little did he know that in less than one turning of his sandglass something very bad was going to happen to him and his ship.  His bones would be found half a score of the devils number of years later (Cederlund et al. 2006, 323-324).
The above is a work of historical fiction, but I have framed my introduction this way for a very specific reason.  The goal of Historical Archaeology is not to tell us the things we already know which is the task of historians, but the things which never were recorded. We tell stories about the past through the interpretation of its artefacts to enhance the picture created by many other disciplines about our past. Stories which are after all interpretations, but without which are discipline would be devoid of human value. Even the science based "New Archaeology" had at its core these principles. My introduction is an interpretation of what we know historically, the artifacts which are present, and environment that the crew of the Vasa lived and would have sailed on to enable the reader to engage the "small things forgotten" and think critically about what time meant 400 years ago on the ships of the early modern navies of western Europe.  Time is a concept we take for granted in our everyday lives.  In a modern world where it is no great feat to look at our cell phones or computer screens it is hard to imagine that just 400 years ago men and women had to tell time by observing their surroundings or being told by a directing authority.  It was hard enough to tell the time on land during Vasa’s  period, doing so at sea was even harder.  It was under these conditions that the Swedish warship Vasa was constructed and launched and preparing to sail into battle on the 10th of August 1628.  Because this ship sank while on its maiden voyage with only the administrators, mariners, and a few special guests; it presents a unique archaeological chance to examine the use and perception of time in a pre-industrial western culture.  

A brief history of time on land...



A General Chronology of Time Keeping Devices On Land.


For what purpose the first people employed the abstract calculation of time may be debated.  Many have argued that the abstract concept of time may be linked directly to a fundamental human need, such as religion and the marking of the sacred not only in space but also something that is constant.  Others have argued that the purpose would most likely have been purely functional as in pertaining to the planting of crops, or the herding of animals to new enclosures.  What we do know is most cultures have some concept of time and many developed complex systems for measuring it.  And this is where we meet a device known as the clock.  A calculator and crutch for those dependant upon time.
The first records of mechanical devices for the measuring of time can be traced as far back as the second millennium B.C.  The clepsydra or water clock was known to have existed in China and Egypt at this time.  This device like many later clocks used the motive power of gravity to power it.  The simplest form of this device is simply a container with a hole in it.  However we do have records of advanced versions which were said to be capable of great feats of accuracy that this simple form could not attain due to the laws of physics, namely the change in the hydraulic gradient.  The Greeks and Romans seem to have taken the clepsydra to perhaps its most complicated level.  The Romans having come to what one could call an early version of daylight savings time had realized that the amount of daylight was variable upon season.  Therefore, “The Roman hour was variable in length according to the seasons of the year.  They devised clepsydras that automatically recorded the variations in the length of the hours.”  (Drepperd 4-5.)
The clepsydra was a big advancement over perhaps an even simpler form of non-mechanical time reckoning, the sun dial. But in many ways it was inferior.  In cold climates the clepsydra was stopped by the water freezing.  It also had to be refilled, a possible problem if you lived in an arid climate.  Another time keeping device was developed that solved these problems, the clepsammia or hourglass.  This device once again used gravity as its motive power, and had many similarities with the clepsydra.  The water was replaced with sand and therefore couldn’t freeze.  It also never had to be refilled like the clepsydra.  However this device had its drawbacks.  The device had to be constantly attended to be turned over, also the greater density and other physical properties of the sand made construction of large clepsammia impractical. All three of these devices have mechanical faults that make them impractical or unreliable for timekeeping.  The sun dial was only useful during the day, was relative to your position on our planet, as well as the season.  The clepsydra was cumbersome, was affected by climate, and was susceptible to changes in the hydraulic gradient.  The clepsammia was somewhat unreliable, relative to the particular clepsammia, and required constant attention.
It would appear that this unreliability had a large part to play in the development of the first mechanical clocks with differentiated and calibrated gears.  When the sun dial, clepsydra, and clepsammia failed, many learned scholars depended upon a natural constant, the stars.  In this way mathematics and clockmaking where greatly affected.  In 1901 a late Hellenic Greek shipwreck was discovered off the coast of the island of Antikythera.  This treasure ship was filled with period or antique bronzes and marbles, jewelry, and what some would describe as a computer or clock.  This Antikythera mechanism was largely ignored until half a century later when Dr. Price of Yale decided to make an in depth analysis of it over the next two decades.  “The Antikythera mechanism was an arrangement of calibrated differential gears inscribed and configured to produce solar and lunar positions in synchronization with the calendar year.  By rotating a shaft protruding from its now-disintegrated wooden case, its owner could read on its front and back dials the progressions of the lunar and synodic months over four-year cycles.  He could predict the movement of heavenly bodies regardless of his local government’s erratic calendar.”  (Rice)  This is the earliest surviving example of a time calculating device, it is attributed to Geminus of Rhodes, and presumed to have been constructed by him around 87 B.C.  However, other examples of astronomical calculators are mentioned by early historians, one being attributed to Archimedes.
The Dark Ages brought a halt to most scientific endeavors, including clockmaking.  Science, “…was unholy, and [it was] dangerous to contemplate the vast arena of possible things.”  (Drepperd 5.)  However, some research was done under the auspices of the church.  Our origin for the word clock comes from within this time period.  The origin for the word clock is generally held to translated into bell.  This stems from the fact that it was customary for cities or churches to ring out the hours on a bell.  One of the earliest written accounts of this is an order by Pope Sabinianus to ring bells for the seven hours of the day in Rome in the year 605.  Some accounts have this early date as the invention of the first mechanical clock, but so many people are credited at later dates and at other locations that no date is certain for this development.  It is just as likely the churchmen were employing a clepsammia, clepsydra, or even a sundial for this performance.  Candles are also said to have been used during this period as timekeeping devices.
Whatever the method of telling time; it was the church as a sponsor which led to the next great development in clockmaking.  While the ringing of the bells was one way to disperse the time to people one could imagine an instance when an important person had been upset or become late by not hearing them.  By the late 12th or early 13th century the tower clock had become a feature in important towns or cities with large easy to read dials.  These early clocks had there mechanical components made by blacksmiths, and for the next three centuries clocks would be largely manufactured of iron by blacksmiths and locksmiths.  The earliest clocks are known to have used a “fan fly” to regulate there time keeping abilities.  This was in the shape of a fan blade that by its resistance to air density slowed the power going through the mechanical train.  Motive power was once again supplied by gravity, but instead of acting on water or sand, a weight possibly in the shape of a weight filled leather bag to save metal.  (Lucas 1.)
These clocks were designed to enhance the structures they were built into.  They were built into towers for much the same reason that the bells had been rung from them, but now they could be seen as well as heard.  As they were constructed into Cathedrals, town halls and other structures of pride they to were well decorated.  Two early surviving examples are those of the clock of the Strasbourg Cathedral which was originally completed in 1354, another would be the great clock of Rouen which was constructed in 1389.  Both of these clocks have undergone modification of the centuries.  (Hering 521-522.)  At this time the most prevalent escapement or form of time regulation was the balance and foliot.  This escapement has a crownwheel, a gear cut in such a manner as to regulate the time keeping abilities of the mechanism.  While this was better that the fan fly, it still was far from accurate.  (Drepperd 8.)
Tower clocks were large and could not be transported, but during the Renaissance the financial elite began to fund experiments in clockmaking to reduce the overall size of the clock.  This would lead to the development of the mantle and the wall clock.  One of the limitations imposed on these clocks was that of the means by which they were powered.  A weight used for power requires that the case of the clock either be tall or that it be mounted upon the wall.  To overcome this the mainspring or coilspring drive was invented.  This is simply a flat wound spring which replaces the weight as the mechanisms source of power.  This invention is first credited to Peter Henlein of Nuremburg in the middle of the fifteenth century.  He is also credited with inventing the modern watch or drum clock.  There are no surviving examples of his work but contemporary pieces by other makers have these general features.
While the mainspring was a major breakthrough that allowed for the miniaturization of the clock, it produced some unwanted affects.  The spring when fully wound produced much more power than when it began to run down, meaning the timekeeping ability of these pieces was variable across this winding cycle.  Another invention also credited to Henlein is the stackfreed, a device which in a rudimentary fashion reduced this effect.  The stackfreed was simply a cam that was compressed by a flat spring, and thus controlling the amount of power going through the mechanisms train.  This was later replaced in the early 16th century by the fusee.  This device which is attributed to Zech of Prague had the mainspring in a separate container or barrel, the spring and barrel would pull on the fusee, a truncated cone by which the amount of power/torque was regulated, which was attached to the barrel by catgut cord or later as metallurgical techniques improved by a fine chain.  The fusee was in essence a more complicated stackfreed.
Galileo is credited with making the next advance in clockmaking, one that would bring more accuracy to the clock.  Galileo after witnessing a swinging lantern made the observation that a pendulum swings in equal amounts of time and is therefore isochronous, a feat no balance can produce.  However, it would take almost another century from the time that this was first discovered in the Late 16th century for the pendulum to be melded with the verge and foliot escapement.  (Drepperd 8-9.)  This event is credited to the Dutch clockmaker Christian Huygens at the end of 1656.  (Leopold 158.)  This coincides with the refinement of the minute derivations on clock dials starting in the later half of the 17th century in Britian and the Netherlands, as well as the growing use of the second hand itself.  (Lucas 3-4.)  This event as well as a growing taste by middle class Europeans would lead to the modern clock.
Many of the features of what most people would consider defining of a clock came about via an Anglo-Dutch exchange of men, material, and technology in the 17th century.  This exchange is well documented. (Leopold 155.)  It was the entrepreneuring nature of the Dutch by gathering what worked, namely the fusee, the pendulum, and the use of brass to manufacture the mechanical components.  And was there free traveling nature that made the diffusion of this knowledge possible.  It is most likely that Ahasuerus Fromanteel a contemporary of Huygens who traveled to Britain was the first to bring these technologies to Britain in about 1665.  (Cescinsky 92.)   This in many ways stimulated the British clockmaking industry and lead to the next development in the form of a more accurate escapement.
Thomas Tompion is credited with the invention of the deadbeat or anchor escapement at the end of the 17th century.  In this escapement the escape wheel teeth are perpendicular to the axis of rotation as compared to parallel in the crownwheel.  Tompion also designed the anchor or crutch in such a fashion as to dead the motion of the newly introduced second hand. Combined with the pendulum this escapement rendered the crownwheel obsolete, although it was still produced on some clocks as late as the late 18th century. This was also the period when the Tall case or grandfather clock became popular in England and America.
America can be seen as the next place that great events in clockmaking history appear.  As America was composed of immigrant groups of many nationalities and under resource pressure it made for a great place for experimentation and advancement.  Many of the first clocks in America were imported from England or the Netherlands.  It is assumed that Swedish colonists in Pennsylvania in the mid 17th century or perhaps the neighboring Dutch may have become the first clockmakers in America. However documentation of this is scarce and as to my research no known surviving examples are known. 
During the 18th century American clockmaking begins to become noticeable, apprenticeships start to be appear in local papers starting in the early 18th century.  Ironically this is known more through the fact that they were running away from their masters which may imply either a hard lifestyle or lack of profitable work. (Mercury 1732)  By the late 18th century in America we have the development of what can be called the American school of clockmakers.  These makers before the revolution look much to Great Britain for their style and manufacture.   Clockmakers like Charles Bruss, Simon and Aaron Willard, Gilbert Bigger, and others would lead to the mass production of cheap clocks by teaching a more American apprentice.  It is known that cheap clocks imported from Germany at this time were relatively popular.  These clocks with wooden movements were imported by wholesalers like Thuun & Boden of Philadelphia in the latter half of the 18th century. (Independent 1783)
This new market stimulated people like Silas Hoadley, Eli Terry, Chauncey Jerome, and Seth Thomas in the early 19th century lead to the production of the cheap but rugged American clocks by what almost amounts to an assembly line manufacture with interchangeable parts.  Clocks with wooden movements had been in America as early as the mid 18th century but it was these two manufacturing revolutions largely brought about by Eli Terry that made there production climb.  “In 1800 Terry conceived the idea of mass producing grandfather-clock movements of wood with the aid of water-power machinery.  By 1808 he started a run of four thousand wooden clock movements on order.”  (Drepperd  58.)  These clocks where so successful that they led to legislation in Great Britain to suppress unfair competition by foreign clockmakers. This was not due to a lack of quality in English clocks but rather their expensive and backwards method of manufacture.  Terry as well as other makers like Jerome and Thomas began to use these principles starting in the 1830’s to manufacture not only cheap wooden clocks but also brass ones as well.  (Church 618-621.)
Since that time the technology to manufacture clocks has changed but the overall mechanical design has relatively stayed the same.  Most clocks after this period have the typical deadbeat escapement, were manufactured of steel, brass, and wood.  One thing that has changed is our sense of time.  I know as a clockmaker that many people are much disappointed with an Eli Terry or other American made clock as compared to their quartz wrist watches and clocks.  However it must be noted that after the death of the mechanical clock industry save few companies starting in the American depression no clock will ironically be linked in time, theory, and manufacture to a history whose time ended.
Some of the first conservatories in our country were founded for the restoration of these lost timekeepers.  Time has a tendency to be rough on all things, but clocks especially as they are made of materials which do not normally hold up well.  Wooden clocks suffer greatly from dry rot.  They also suffer from wormholes and the general abuses of untrained technicians.  They have begun to receive a resurgence of interest however, as the modern home with a controlled indoor climate greatly enhances there timekeeping abilities.  Metal clocks suffer from dust and wear.  They also suffer from chemical damage, oxidation due to the different chemical potentials of the various metals used in there construction; namely brass, steel, and lead.  They have also been known to suffer again from the hands of those who are untrained.  A good example is the picture on page 15 of Brooks Palmer A treasury of American clocks.   This picture shows the movement from a late 18th century grandfather clock that has had the front escape wheel pivot hole penned shut to make it more tightly fitting.  This shows that someone has already made his modification to this clock.





References:



Cescinsky, Herbert. A Bracket Clock by Ahasuerus Fromanteel. The Burlington for Connoisseurs, Vol. 35, No. 198, 1919, pp. 92-93.

Church, R. A. Nineteenth-Century Clock Technology in Britain, the United States, and Switzerland. The Economic History Review, New Series, Vol. 28, No. 4, 1975, pp. 616-630.

Drepperd, Carl W. American Clocks and Clockmakers. Charles T. Branford Company. Boston Massachusetts, 1958.

Hering, D. W. Art in Clockmaking and Watchmaking. The Scientific Monthly, Vol. 40, No. 6, 1935, pp. 519-534.

Hering, D. W. Numerals on Clock and Watch Dials. The Scientific Monthly, Vol. 49, No. 4, 1939, pp. 311-323.

Hoke, Donald. British and American Horology: Time to Test Factor-Substitution Models.  The Journal of Economic History, Vol. 47, No. 2, The Tasks of Economic History, 1987, pp. 321-327.

Landes, David S. Watchmaking: A Case Study in Enterprise and Change.  The Business History Review, Vol. 53, No. 1, European Entrepreneurship, 1979, pp. 1-39.

Leopold, J. H. Clockmaking in Britain and the Netherlands. Notes and Records of the Royal Society of London, Vol. 43, No. 2, Science and Civilization under William and Mary, 1989, pp. 155-165.

Lucas, Gavin. The Changing Face of Time: English Domestic Clocks from the Seventeenth to Nineteenth Century. Journal of Design History, Vol. 8, No. 1, 1995, pp. 1-9.

Murphy, John Joseph. Entrepreneurship in the Establishment of the American Clock Industry.  The Journal of Economic History, Vol. 26, No. 2, 1966, pp. 169-186.

Palmer, Brooks. A Treasury of American Clocks.  The Macmillan Company, New York, 1967.

Price, Derek De Solla. Gears From the Greeks. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, New Series, Vol. 64, No. 7, 1974.

Rice, Rob S. The Antikythera Mechanism: Physical and Intellectual Salvage from the 1st Century B.C.  USNA Eleventh Naval History Symposium, Paper Collected for Volume, 1995.  http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/rrice/usna_pap.html
Periodicals Chronological:

The American Weekly Mercury. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Thursday Nov. 16- Thursday Nov. 23, 1732. Issue 673, p. 4.

The American Weekly Mercury. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Thursday June 29- Thursday July 6, 1738. Issue 966, p. 3.

The Providence Gazette. Providence, Rhode Island, 12-11-1762. Vol. 1, Issue 8, p. 1.

The New York Gazette; and the Weekly Mercury. New York, New York, 01-08-1770, Issue 950, p. 1.

The Pennsylvania Chronicle. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Monday March 16- Monday March 23, 1772. Vol. VI, Issue 9, p. 35.

Connecticut Journal. New Haven, Connecticut, 01-30-1783. Issue 796, p. 3.

The Independent Gazetter. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 08-16-1783. Issue 94, p. 4.

The Independent Chronicle and Universal Advertiser. Boston, Massachusetts, 02-05-1784. Vol. XVI, Issue 802, p. 4.

Maryland Journal. Baltimore, Maryland, 05-03-1785. Vol. XII, Issue 35, p. 2.

City Gazette and daily Advertiser. Charleston, South Carolina, 11-19-1794. Vol. XII, Issue, 2287, p. 2.

The Independent Gazetter, From the Maryland Journal, Anecdotical Notices of Mr. David Rittenhouse. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 07-20-1796. Issue, 1792, p. 2.

Connecticut Courant. Hartford, Connecticut, 06-09-1800. Vol. XXXV, Issue, 1846, p. 2.

Columbian Centinel. Boston, Massachusetts, 11-08-1806. Issue 2361, p. 1.

Mercantile Adviser. New York, New York, 06-23-1812. Issue 7627, p. 3.

The Desert News. Salt Lake City, Utah, 11-03-1880. Vol. XXIX, Issue 40, p. 629.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Sustainable Management of Maritime Archaeology: National Budgets, Museums, and People.


Jason Lain Lunze


“We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.” Jeremy Irons



Introduction:
            The word “sustainable” has become a buzz word in the academia over the last 20 years or so, largely as it spread away from centers of academia and into the public consciousness.  It is a word which is hard to describe and define as it is almost an adjective to any other which it is linked to.  Even worse it has become culturally linked as a synonym to compromise.  There has been precedent in maritime archaeology starting in the 1980’s with publications showing maritime cultural resources as a finite resource (Prott 2000, 269).  On the verso of that coin some of the most effective national programs which where introduced around the world in the late 1980’s were implemented with the limited resource of available personnel (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 33-35).  In our ever expanding society, maritime finds are under threat from our modern industrial aggregate and shipping industries (Adams et al. 1990, 13). Wrecks and submerged settlements are also under threat from the draining of submerged surfaces for agriculture (Willems 1997, 35-37).  These non-renewable resources are also under threat from the ravages of sport divers and salvage companies through ignorance or intended malice (Prott 2000, 599).  With all this one can see the urgency in recording known sites and protecting them, but the question naturally turns to funding and supportive structures.  Regardless if you think that archaeology and historic preservation is taxes well spent as many archaeologists say, the sustainability of the most expensive branch of archaeology is a subject which must be addressed. 
Indeed sustainability is fundamental in the ethos which goes behind the International charter on the protection and management of underwater cultural heritage developed by the International Council on Monuments and Sites in their advisory role to UNESCO.  International corporations and lobbying agencies are beginning to support the sustainable caretaking of submerged resources to protect from bad publicity and criminal prosecution (Newell and Garner 2006, 8-13). With all the good will and good intentions that archaeologist, cultural historians, governments, and private industry have towards the field of maritime archaeology; the three limiting non-renewable resources protecting cultural heritage are the small number of professional maritime archaeologists, their lack of time, and the lack of funding for rescue excavations let alone long-term research to sustain their population.  The problem is not limited to the community of maritime archaeology alone; we are after all an interconnected discipline, like the biological diversity which inspired the first concepts of sustainability (Jameson and Scott Ireton 2007, 33-41).
 If we are to talk about how the trans-national spread of common empathy occurred to start protecting maritime heritage and how we fund this endeavor we must tackle an even bigger issue at the heart of all archaeology and historic preservation, the notion of “value”.

“Use of the term “value” is increasingly permeating public, private, and international discourses on heritage management.  We hear about human vs. material values, tangibles vs. intangibles, moral vs. corrupt values, and religious vs. secular values.  In many of our discussions, the word “value” is used interchangeably with other terms such as attribute, quality, and interest.  But the term “value” is useful because it commonly connotes humanistic and emotional qualities.  Values relate to tangibles and intangibles that define what is important to people.  In all societies a sense of well-being is associated with the need to connect with and appreciate heritage values.  In heritage management, we commonly articulate
‘values” as attributes given to sites, objects, and resources, and associated intellectual and emotional connections that make them important and define their significance for a person, group, or community (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 1).

            Such a sense of humanism is not new to archaeology as a discipline.  Popular books by historical archaeologists like Ivor Noel-Hume including All the Best Rubbish, being an antiquary’s accounts of the pleasures and perils of studying and collecting everyday objects from the past poignantly demonstrate the human attachment to the past and it’s relics.  As Ivor Noel-Hume says, “Perhaps by means of controllable retrocognition man will eventually find a way of bridging time, but until he does, conscious imagination remains our only vehicle, a time machine powered by the images and artifacts that the past has left in its wake (1974, 55).”  It is because a certain portion of the human population values the past and the fact that our only way of studying its remains which are a non-renewable resource that we have the common ground to engage each other.  This means that while they may seem like disparate branches to some, the archaeologist can have a common value set as the museum curator as well as the artifact and art conservator.  Beyond this, sustainability of this field lies not in the hands of governments or scientists, but in the common people who go to museums and vote to pay those taxes which we say are well spent (Knell 2004, 179-184). That being said, the majority of legislation has not been sponsored by the local farm boy turned activist, but by established archaeologists working in the field with knowledge of how their governments and institutions work together, and even with a collective empathy or common goal such as the ICOMOS Charter many nations and individuals disagree on how and what to value and protect (Dromgoole 2006).
            While the ICOMOS Charter may be one of the first internationally empathetic ways of dealing with our collective cultural heritage in the world’s oceans, seas, and rivers, the charter is the end result of many decades of local activists’ endeavors to protect their regional and national cultural heritage.  This is also one of the reasons why the many participants of the ICOMOS Charter had so many conflicting interests.  National identities always play a part of how any project gets funded and to what extent it is valued.  The following sections of this paper will detail the origins of sustainability by illustrating some of the pioneers from multiple nations.  With our present state in sustainable management of maritime heritage harkened by Jameson and Scott-Ireton, “As archaeologists and cultural resource managers, we endeavor to develop more holistic interpretations in which values of sustainable environment and heritage are inextricably linked.  We have recognized that multidisciplinary and inclusive approaches are the most effective (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 1).”  The past of our discipline is full of the hardships of people who struggled to protect their local heritage and it would be from humble origins that the collective empathetic ethos would develop and how they creatively helped pass legislation and found national funding for their projects often without national or regional funding sources.   It must be explained to the reader that these pioneers have the obligation of sustaining the systems they established while supporting new techniques and supporting the enthusiasm of the next generation; a tall order for any discipline. 

The Netherlands:
            It is only fitting that we begin this dialogue on the origins of sustainable management of submerged cultural heritage in the country which has records the first professional archaeologist.  In 1818 Caspar Jacob Christian Reuvens began his tenure at Leiden University (Willems et al. 1997, 35).  It has a strong national empathy for the sea, but until five decades ago this was largely not expressed in the way it legally protected its maritime cultural heritage (Dromgoole 2006, 161-165).  The Netherlands has a long tradition of sea trade and exploration, but despite this the work done in the Netherlands up until the 1960’s was largely framed around commercial expansion of ports and polders or the purvey of antiquarian dealers of salvaged goods (Willems et al. 1997, 38-39). Exceptions like the excavation of the Utrecht Boat while excavated and recorded with best intentions failed due to a lack of proper description and the misidentification of the find from a historical perspective (Willems et al. 1997, 40).  However, some very good recording took place, but as a whole was the exception to the rule (Willems et al. 1997, 37).

Figure 1.  Even though the Netherlands is a seafaring nation 19th century recording of submerged cultural material is rare.  This example is one of the best recorded finds a logboat recovered at Nijeveen in 1870 (Willems et al. 1997, 37).

This is very similar to the experience with maritime archaeology in North America during the first half of the 20th century.  Ivor Noel-Hume noted or rather lamented the loss of much cultural data in the U.S. due to the commercial aspect of salvage and maritime heritage through out his life and eloquently demonstrates it in his work All the Best Rubbish when he discusses the commercial salvage of material from the Yorktown Fleet of 1781 (1974, 81).  Because maritime heritage, whether it be shipwrecks or submerged settlements are beyond the reach on the normal person, they are therefore hard to argue to protect.  Such comments are the lament of Jameson and Scott-Ireton in their edited work on public interpretation by the worlds submerged cultural heritage (2007).  This was no exception in the Netherlands, until the post war expansion of port infrastructure and the draining of polders brought the population of the Netherlands face to face with their lost and newly found maritime heritage.  The phenomenal preservation by geologic processes of many sites in the Netherlands as well as the previously mentioned expansion is the main reason why the protection of maritime heritage started early in this country (Willems et al. 1997, 40-41).
            While in many cases this good preservation which spurred many to preserve maritime heritage in the Netherlands had its benefits, many problems where created by this.  The locus of “value” in the Netherlands early on was on the distant past through the middle ages with little interest in the Renaissance and later periods.  Large objects like ships where not preserved or recorded in their entirety and much information was lost during the early to mid 20th century.  Museums collected objects which could be easily displayed and well preserved, while many cultural remains were allowed to fall through the cracks.  A good example of this Dutch museological phenomenon can be seen in the treatment of the artifacts from Nova Zembla.  In 1596 Willem Barentsz reached Nova Zembla but had to abort his attempt to find a passage to India, starving and without hope of direct rescue they abandoned their shelter in the spring of 1597 to reach the Kola Peninsula and rescue with return to the Netherlands.  The expedition lost more than just their belongings which were recovered by seal hunters in 1871, but the life of their brave leader Barentsz who died while examining navigational charts on the journey to the Russian mainland.  This collection of artifacts became a Victorian fascination to many upon their return, but they were never properly drawn or recorded until the late 1990’s by the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam (J. Bratt et al. 1998). 
            This is not inclusive of the Netherlands alone.  Items of a National import are often the first to gather to national museums and preserved for future generations, especially if they are exceptional or pretty examples (Clack and Brittain 2007, 114-117).  It is a problem all heritage managers struggle with today and goes back to how and what we value.  It has great impacts on how and what we will preserve for future generations.  Throughout the 1950’s and through the 1960’s in the Netherlands ship finds largely where poorly recorded and preserved with emphasis being placed on the preservation of objects which would fill museum collections.  This did not change with the passing of the 1961 Monument s Act in the Netherlands (Willems et al. 1997, 43).  In the end it was a group of little people (not dwarves) but rather local interest over the poor handling and storage of material in harbor expansion projects which spurred on what would become volunteer and activist preservation at a local level in the Netherlands (Willems et al. 1997, 44-45).  This would in turn lead to the paradigm of research in the Netherlands to shift from the extraction of materials for museums and or cursory reports to the protection of important sites in situ for future research as a burgeoning sense of responsibility for material culture spread in the Dutch archeological cadre during the 1960’s and 1970’s. 

“A better understanding of the effects of antiquarianist treasure hunting on heritage management as a whole has been translated into rigid ethical codes.  Heritage management entered a stage in which wholesale rescue excavations in the polders were temporised by frugally setting aside important shipfind sites through physical protection and giving more attention to adequate research.  The original project approach was thereby converted to a long-term perspective (Willems et al. 1997, 46). 

This was the beginnings of the sustainable policies now in place in the Netherlands.
            Even with the advent of in-situ preservation in the Netherlands some expansion projects strain the local funding agencies as well as volunteer work to the point where a new shift has occurred towards mitigation.  Adams et al. in their work on Dredgers and Archaeology eloquently lay out a framework in which heritage management can work with larger commercial and government projects which damage or destroy the cultural heritage in their wake to produce some useful data.  The argument goes that finds which are more common can be recorded and published before they are destroyed to the best of the ability of those available.  An example from the work at the Slufter site can be seen in Figure 2.  This does not mean that this should be standard practice and throughout this work some sites were designated protected areas and left undisturbed with only cursory mention to location and state of preservation in-situ (Prott et al. 2000, 302-305).  The presence of competent maritime activists both professional and vocational in the case of the Slufter project helped break the deadlock to preserve the sites in the Slufter in the Netherlands.  Funding was finally provided by Ministry of Welfare and other organizations to support this documentation.

If it is convincingly probable that important archaeological values are at stake a serious effort should be made to record what will be lost.  To this end the development of a line of action indicating how and according to what priorities archaeological information and remains will be handled can be a considerable help in planning.  Budgetary consequences are divisible in a fixed and variable part.  The first is the minimal requirement for general documentation and- if necessary- on-site presence of archaeological staff (Adams et al. 1990, 153).

Mitigation at its core as part of the techniques employed in the Netherlands has at its heart sustainability as it requires planning, preferential choices.  It goes beyond rescue interventions but now looks into the sustainable management of the 435+ wrecksites uncovered in the polders and countless other sites.  It covers the planning for future management but also preservational issues.  It delves into the curation of the Dutch heritage and gives lessons to all maritime historians seeking inspiration.  “In development plans it seeks to include inspired archaeology.  This requires scientific curiosity and explicit priorities then and there.  Mitigation is certainly not about the dismal reduction of archaeology to standardized recording (Prott et al. 2000, 305).  In the Dutch case this has taken much innovation, but its reliance upon people who are “inspired” by their cultural heritage lends itself to a willful hopeful sustainability of their cultural heritage in their home waters and abroad. 


Figure 2.  An example of the type of data that can be recovered by proper mitigation.  These are some of the small finds recorded during the dredging of the Slufter as a waste disposal site in the Netherlands (Adams et al. 1990, 97).


United Kingdom:
            The United Kingdom is an island nation whose maritime history spans thousands of years.  In this regard it is similar to the Netherlands.  It’s maritime heritage is also under threat from development by industry (Dromgoole 2006, 314).  This has led to a fairly top down administrative approach to how wrecks are curated.  This has not always been the case, if we are to understand the sustainability of maritime heritage in the UK then we need to go back to the first professional recording of an archaeological site in this country.  This is nearly as far back as the work of Caspar Jacob Christian Reuvens in Leiden, for in 1822 the wreck of a 16th century wreck was exposed in the River Rother (Figure 3).  Unlike many other finds of before in the 18th century as well as finds in the 19th century this wreck was professionally surveyed by a maritime architect (Marsden 1997, 15-17).  This is also the oldest known excavation which records in the finds a vial for an hourglass, but that is of course a tangent that relates to the adherence to the antiquarian love of objects rather than research into their historical function or social use.  For the most part throughout the 19th century through the early to mid 20th century the values applied to recovered maritime heritage where largely the same as those in the Netherlands, antiquary in nature and focused upon the recovery of objects of national or art value for museums (Marsden 1997, 16-20).

Figure 3.  Part of the 1822 recording of a 16th century wreck in the Rother River during clearage operations (Marsden 1997, 16).

            The situation can be summed up by the fact that in 1953 after a massive storm hit the coast of Kent hundreds of late 17th and early 18th century wine bottles refilled with beer, for which the local inhabitants collected and put in their curio cabinets (Noel-Hume 1974, 75-77).  English law in the period of the 19th century through the passing of the 1973 Protection of Wrecks Act was dominated by the salvage laws and the law of the sea.  However, whereas activist and volunteer engagement in the Netherlands had been sporadic and local by 1981 the UK had a powerful force in the formation of the Nautical Archaeology Society which took over publication of the International journal of Nautical Archaeology and became government funded in 1991 (Marsden 1997, 20).  In the wake of the ICOMOS charter the UK is on the verge of becoming one of the few countries to be able to rightly claim a measure of sustainability in regards to its submerged cultural heritage largely by the integration of vocational and professionals in many professions.  It must be noted that this was not always the case and a few examples are worth mentioning to stress the issues that the UK has faced over the last sixty years since the end of the Second World War.
            In 1910 when it was decided that a new County Hall should be built on the south bank of the River Thames a boat from the Roman period was exposed by the workmen.  The wreck was excavated and recorded due to its antiquity as there was a fashion in England during this period all the way through the present time towards Roman influence in the UK.  However, while the boat was shown with much ado by the press and public alike the director of the London Museum wrote in 1912 two years after its discovery and one year after its removal to the museum, “We have now finished with the Roman boat.  Another is not likely to be found, we will take good care of that.  This echoes the sentiments of all the officials of the London County Council who have been bothered with this white elephant (Marsden 1994, 109)”.  This however, is a problem harkened by all museums today.  “Museums have notoriously limited budgets; far from engaging in rescue excavation or field projects, many of them have enough difficulty in conserving and displaying their existing collections (Knell 2004, 180).  The true state of the preservation was not known until it was decided to move it by dismantling it and then move it to permanent storage in 1978 (Marsden 1994, 109). 
            This is in contrast to the work carried out in the Netherlands.  As has been previously shown, while excavations or uncovering of cultural material there was not always recorded in full, cursory reports by staff of local or national authorities with a level of competence were (usually) employed (Willems et al. 1997, 44-46).  The UK has a long tradition of the vocational archaeologist.  They also have a long tradition of varying degrees of recording finds (Knell 2004, 184).  The prohibitory cost of excavation, conservation, and preservation of materials from submerged sites has often left administrators of cultural heritage reluctant to even protect known sites in the UK.  The New Guy’s House boat which has been dated to the second century A.D. was uncovered during construction.  Very little was done to record this site, but once recognized and dated their was an attempt to protect it through the Department of the Environment but the site was classified as a chattel or moveable object and therefore not acceptable under the current legislation of the early 1960’s.  This site was never re-excavated for further documentation and was not protected until a large group of professionals and vocationals fought for its preservation leading it to be a protected monument on the 22nd of June 1983 (Marsden 1994, 97).  This only was possible after the proper wording was incorporated into the 1979 Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas Act by people vested in these sites protection (Marsden 1997, 20).
            It was equally hard to publish the findings from submerged martitime culture in the UK until the past decade.  While previous media engagement as well as the 16 hour live coverage of the warship Mary Rose is largely responsible for the continued public support of this project maritime archaeology in general often does not have the visual appeal to be sustainable or have a place in mainstream media (Clack and Brittain 2007, 121).  The Blackfriars #3 ship which has been dated to circa 1400 A.D.was originally excavated in 1970 did not have a formal examination and publication until funding became available in 1991 when English Heritage and the Museum of London provided funding to do so.  Much information was lost due the damage of the material in transport as well as its storage (Marsden 1994, 57-59).  The use of commercial companies for heritage management as well as the funding of organizations like the Nautical Archaeology Society founded in 1981 has continued to leave the UK with a disparate standard internally.  While many laws and infrastructures exist in the UK the formation of a sustainable paradigm to, “enable ‘joined-up’ up government” has been slow to fruition (Dromgoole 2006, 347). 
            While the loss of data in the UK as a result of this schism in the past may appear to the world as a crime against out collected cultural sensibilities; as stated before in the example of the centrally controlled and directed work in the Netherlands some information was also lost.  The governmental structure of heritage management in the UK is taxed, especially with the management of offshore developments.  What has ended up happening is that private companies such as Wessex Archaeology (Figure 4), have been contracted by English Heritage to fill the gap (Newell and Garner 2006, 82-122).  At the same time, English Heritage has wisely chosen to develop an Archaeological Diving Unit which has in the past worked directly with the Nautical Archaeology Society to train vocationals to preserve and appreciate their local heritage (Marsden 1997, 20-21).  Many of these vocationals will hopefully move on to permanent positions, but due to the fact that, “…advising on post excavation writing up and publication of underwater sites is not part of its responsibility.”,  the vocational in the UK in regards to the Diving Unit of English Heritage still has many hurtles before he or she can become a proper steward and take academic ownership of any cultural heritage (Marsden 1997, 19-20).  Both the commercial and vocational agents in the UK are therefore engaged which enables English Heritage to better manage in a sustainable fashion its submerged maritime cultural heritage. 

Figure 4.  Pratt & Whitney radial engine from a WWII American Boeing B-17 flying fotress beting recorded by Wessex Archaeology at the request of English Heritage and other corporations (Newell and Garner 2006, 93).




           
United States of America:
            While the United States of America as a political entity is younger than the two social constitutional monarchies mentioned before, it has a cultural heritage possibly even more varied than both combined stretching back at least 10,000 years.  The management of submerged cultural heritage in the US is very different from the two countries previously mentioned, but this has more to do with the composition of our governmental structure than in a disparate set of material culture or moral values.  As is the case with the Netherlands and the UK submerged material culture is threatened from economic development, sport divers, and commercial salvage operations (Dromgoole 2006, 351-356).  Because of the capitalist and entrepreneurial nature of the American society there was never an original academic philosophy in regards to submerged cultural heritage in the US.  From the formation of our country in 1787 by the adoption of a formal constitution the US has largely viewed lost articles from the past in its waters as things to be salvaged.  This mentality can be viewed by the clearing of the Delaware River in 1948 in which an intact colonial cargo vessel was discovered, salvaged, and destroyed without regard to the loss of cultural information (Noel-Hume 1974, 73-74).  As stated, “…the remains of boats, barrels, wooden boxes, clothing, leather goods, and countless other artifacts of earlier times are smashed, scooped up in the jaws of mechanical excavators, and dumped where no one will ever find them (Noel-Hume 1974, 73).

Figure 5.  Mid to late 18th century glass wine bottles being recovered from wrecks thought to be from the Battle of Yorktown by helmet divers in the 1930’s (Noel-Hume 1974, 81).


            It would be the double-edged sword of sport divers that would spur on the first attempts of sustainable preservation of submerged cultural heritage in the US.  “In 1960-61, sport divers succeeded in having two sites in Lake Champlain added to the list of Historic Landmarks: the Revolutionary War ships sunk at Valcour Bay and the British warships of the War of 1812 sunk at Plattsburg Bay (Prott et al. 2000, 355).  However, at the same time, irreparable damage was being done to sites by not so conscientious divers across the US and the Caribbean.  This is in sharp contrast to the salvage and loss of a warship which sank in 1757 during the Seven Year’s War in Lake George.  This vessel was completely destroyed by being cut up for souvenirs in 1903 (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 114).  This would be a story told over and over again in both Lake George and Lake Champlain to the lament of the present archaeological and historical community.  Some light did come from a vocational during the end of this period in Lake George.  Terry Crandall, a vocational historian did scuba searches under a permit from the State of New York in 1963-64 which be the historic baseline for all future research in the area (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 115).
            Lake George and Lake Champlain were not isolates in this continuing struggle to find a sustainable balance between commercial antiquarianism, historical fanaticism, and benign neglect.  This story played its part all over the US and the Caribbean until the passing of The Abandoned Shipwrecks Act of 1987 (Prott et al. 2000, 354-355).  Due to the nature of the government of the world’s oldest unchanged constitutional system even with the passing of this law the federal beaurocracy and its relationship to state rights has made it almost impossible to declare an abandoned wreck in practice protected without both a unilateral agreement between a state preservation agency or a vested non-governmental organization and the federal authorities (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 85-180).  Projects that have managed to succeed in this fashion often take advantage of a certain amount of historical fanaticism.  While the wrecks of the USS Monitor receive dedicated NOAA Marine Sanctuary status through the National Parks and Historic Register as well as having upper Federal protection, wrecks of older date or lacking a “National” character are often left forgotten and exposed. 
            However, since the passage of The Abandoned Shipwrecks Act of 1987 the amount of general salvage has continued to go down as states now have first right of refusal to applications.  The 1990’s through the early 2000’s is now seen by many in the US as being our high water mark when it comes to sustainable management of submerged cultural heritage (Prott et al. 2000, 357-359).  While work on saving submerged cultural heritage of “national” character still continues local governments in the form of state agencies as well as local non-government organizations began to take proper ownership of their submerged cultural heritage. Partly this was due to the import of ideas and personnel from outside such as the influence and implementation of the Nautical Archaeology Society in the US starting in the late 1980’s (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 85-180). 
A shining example of the use of technical and ethical personnel from abroad can be seen in the recovery, excavation, and preservation of the American Civil War submarine H. L. Hunley (1864) of which I was lucky enough to have been a brief part of.
“This included the prior obtaining of finance, social and political backing, expert staff, a large conservation facility and an existing and well-regarded exhibition venue in Charleston, South Carolina.  The convening of an international forum designed to air the many conservation, ethical, and archaeological issues, with a view to their satisfactory resolution well before the excavation and lift occurred, was another step toward the establishment of best practice…(Mardikian 2004, 137).
This is however, the case in which material of “national” character is the focus of preservation and it does not apply to most wrecks in the US.  It is also a case where negotiation between ownership was necessary as it is technically a war grave and a memorandum of agreement had to be formulated between the Federal government and the State of South Carolina (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 196).
            Because of the separated nature of local governments in the US it will be work like that of Gordon Watts and Kurt Knoerl with providing a common link through the online Museum of Underwater Archaeology that may provide the answer for the future of sustainable engagement of the public and the proper sharing of information between parties (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 223-239).  Federal organizations like NOAA and the National Parks Service in the US have shared links and pages with the Museum of Underwater Archaeology over the past ten years and this has lead to local people as well as Americans in general to better appreciate the varied submerged cultural heritage within the US and abroad (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 223-239).  This “web” of support to all those in the US who love ships and the sea has ushered in a new era of dialogue and discourse which has led to better practice as well as help those people with inspiration find others to work with (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 223-239).


Figure 6.  NOAA Monitor Marine Sanctuary page linked to Kurt Knoerl’s Museum of Underwater Archaeology webpage.  This has become an interactive way to share knowledge with the public as well as professionals (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 228).
           
Conclusion:
            It is no coincidence that I decided to end my central portion of this text with how the US has decided to seek help at a national level as well as internationally for its problems relating to submerged or underwater cultural heritage.  It is part of the growth of what I mentioned in the introduction. The urgency in recording known sites and protecting them has become a quandary when question naturally turns to funding and supportive structures.  Regardless if you think that archaeology and historic preservation is taxes well spent as many archaeologists say, the sustainability of the most expensive branch of archaeology is a subject which is being addressed no longer as isolated cases make it necessary, but as prehistoric cultures and moveable cultural heritage in the way of ships, plane, and submerge prehistory are being examined in nations beyond their origin.  The global empathy which is at the heart of the ICOMOS charter has its beginnings in previous agreements between governments.  The agreement between the US and France over the CSS Alabama made cooperation and expertise in the way of French personnel to assist in the conservation of the H. L. Hunley a few years after.  The Dutch VOC wrecks in Australia prompted cooperation and heritage agreements between these countries and further trade in expertise. 
            The Dutch story cited in this text shows the peril of having only a single academic cadre to care for underwater cultural heritage.  While on the same token they have given us the framework to use for mitigation in our ever expanding society.  Mitigation is certainly not about the dismal reduction of archaeology to standardized recording (Prott et al. 2000, 305).  In the Dutch case this has taken much innovation, but its reliance upon people who are “inspired” by their cultural heritage lends itself to a willful hopeful sustainability of their cultural heritage in their home waters and abroad.  In the case of the UK what has ended up happening is that private companies such as Wessex Archaeology have been contracted by English Heritage to fill the gap (Newell and Garner 2006, 82-122).  At the same time, English Heritage has wisely chosen to develop an Archaeological Diving Unit which has in the past worked directly with the Nautical Archaeology Society to train vocationals to preserve and appreciate their local heritage (Marsden 1997, 20-21).  Many of these vocationals will hopefully move on to permanent positions, but due to the fact that, “…advising on post excavation writing up and publication of underwater sites is not part of its responsibility.”,  the vocational in the UK in regards to the Diving Unit of English Heritage still has many hurtles before he or she can become a proper steward and take academic ownership of any cultural heritage (Marsden 1997, 19-20).  Both the commercial and vocational agents in the UK are therefore engaged which enables English Heritage to better manage in a sustainable fashion its submerged maritime cultural heritage.
            It would be the double-edged sword of sport divers that would spur on the first attempts of sustainable preservation of submerged cultural heritage in the US.  “In 1960-61, sport divers succeeded in having two sites in Lake Champlain added to the list of Historic Landmarks: the Revolutionary War ships sunk at Valcour Bay and the British warships of the War of 1812 sunk at Plattsburg Bay (Prott et al. 2000, 355).  This is in sharp contrast to the salvage and loss of a warship which sank in 1757 during the Seven Year’s War in Lake George.  This vessel was completely destroyed by being cut up for souvenirs in 1903 (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 114).  This story played its part all over the US and the Caribbean until the passing of The Abandoned Shipwrecks Act of 1987 (Prott et al. 2000, 354-355).  Due to the nature of the government of the world’s oldest unchanged constitutional system even with the passing of this law the federal beaurocracy and its relationship to state rights has made it almost impossible to declare an abandoned wreck in practice protected without both a unilateral agreement between a state preservation agency or a vested non-governmental organization and the federal authorities (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 85-180).  Because of the separated nature of local governments in the US it will be work like that of Gordon Watts and Kurt Knoerl with providing a common link through the online Museum of Underwater Archaeology that may provide the answer for the future of sustainable engagement of the public and the proper sharing of information between parties in the US (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 223-239). 
Regardless of country, governmental system, or the presence or absence of a national budget or and agenda to underwater cultural heritage funding and sustainability always come down to how we value our collective cultural heritage.  Values relate to tangibles and intangibles that define what is important to people.  In all societies a sense of well-being is associated with the need to connect with and appreciate heritage values.  In heritage management, we commonly articulate ‘values” as attributes given to sites, objects, and resources, and associated intellectual and emotional connections that make them important and define their significance for a person, group, or community (Jameson and Scott-Ireton 2007, 1). While the ICOMOS Charter may be one of the first internationally empathetic ways of dealing with our collective cultural heritage in the world’s oceans, seas, and rivers, the charter is the end result of many decades of local activists’ endeavors to protect their regional and national cultural heritage.  The spread of best practice as emphasized in the ICOMOS Charter around the world is commendable, but to hold all to the same standard is ludicrous when many nations do not have the national budget or moral valuation of certain cultural items.  Therefore to reach a sustainable maritime archaeology, “We cannot legislate values.  We can, however, legislate rules which direct behavior.  Environmental and archaeological resources exist and are affected at the most local level-an individual decides to dig a hole or not dig a hole.  Thus, which sites are saved by preservation, or their stories through excavation, are decisions which are best made at the state level where the costs and benefits are most measureable (Prott et al. 2000, 360).
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