The View from Sequin Heights. May 5, 2013
A bit of personal history and derring-do!
On Friday, May 3, 2013 William J Cronon gave the annual
Ralph Hall Brown Day Lecture to a packed auditorium in the Carlson School of
Management. The event was sponsored by the University of Minnesota Department
of Geography, Environment & Society. Among many credentials, Dr. Cronon is
a past president of the American Historical Society, a former recipient of a
MacArthur genius grant, and is the Frederick Jackson Turner and Vilas Research
Professor at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wi.
His topic, astonishingly, was “The Portage: Time, Memory and
Storytelling in the Making of an American Place”. The ‘Portage’ he explored
with us was none other than the portage and subsequent significance of the
near-juncture of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers at what is now Portage, Wi.
Having spent several years growing up in Portage, this was
almost embarrassingly familiar. I did take occasion to interrupt the
proceedings right at the conclusion of Professor Cronon’s talk to tell the
assembly anonymously that I was essentially an avatar – germane to the topic in
many ways consonant with the good professor’s affection for the significance of
personal anecdotes and other informal approaches to that German ideal “Die
Gelegenheit wie es eigentlich war”.
I was able to inform the speaker and the hall that I was turning
75 years old this summer and had given guided tours of the Indian Agency House
when I was 7 years old. I indicated that my relatives had been in custodial
control of the House and its environs for the past seventy-odd years, were
still in that role, and that I hoped to visit them in Wisconsin this very
summer. I gave a few anecdotes from my own early years in Portage, thus
confirming by my own testimony the value of first-hand accounts over the often
dry and uncertain narratives written by historians and others at one or more
removes from the time and place of interest.
Dr. Cronon had new information for me as well. Frederick
Jackson Turner and John Muir grew up just a few miles downstream from the
Agency House and their influence later in life was profound in the evolving
life of our nation and that of the Native Americans. The lessons they drew from
their early years remain with us as well as recollection of a third individual
who worked for years to reforest what had been cleared for cultivation in this
same vicinity. Young Lieutenant Jefferson Davis – hailing originally from
Mississippi - was stationed at Fort Winnebago in the early 1830s, also nearby,
and went on to become a member of Lincoln’s cabinet and still later, the
President of the Confederate States of America.
Given the recent fascination with numbers and number theory,
it was briefly instructive to learn that the ancient portage trail was/is 2600
paces long. A bit over a mile in all. I described how I would ride my bike down
the levee on the Wisconsin end of this wonder en route to the county fair in
the first ward. I indicated that the city fathers had had to build the levee to
keep the first ward from flooding every spring. Ah, yes, quoth the good
professor, Irish immigrants had settled on that low ground.
I had been invited to attend this event as an alumnus of the
U of MN Geography Department. My summa degree dates from 1993 and the
intervening years have seen much community activity on my part and almost no
contact with the faculty of that earlier time. Attrition has understandably
sharply reduced their ranks and I only recognized a couple of faces – Will
Craig, with whom I worked briefly in the later 1990s on the emerging utility of
GIS technology in neighborhood settings, and John Adams, long emeritus, a
former chair of the Geography Department, and a teacher from whom I learned
much about the geography of the Twin Cities as such was then understood.
I left before the body was gearing up to adjourn to a nearly
reception because, alumnus cum “avatar” notwithstanding, I have been pointedly distant
from the department ever since I was advised at the beginning of my graduate
career also in 1993 that I ought rather go live with “those people” in San
Francisco and give no thought to following up on my summa thesis “Are Gay
Studies on the Map”.
This unfortunate ignorance uttered by a former editor of the
Annals of American Geography, known for his ruthless practices as an editor of
student writing, when coupled with the non-response from a number of seasoned
faculty who really should have known better, convinced me that whatever my
various attainments within this realm have been or may yet be, I would never
lend my good name to such intellectual garbage as was clearly ascendant at that
time in that otherwise highly prestigious department in the heady international
world of such scholarship.
Events continue to create their own headlines and histories
in these matters and I regret that my sharp recollections of the first three
decades of my own life are unavailable to the good offices of such later
generations of scholars as have recently emerged around much of the globe.
Actually, the next four decades in my life – moving now toward the
appellation”octogenarian” in the fifth such subsequent decade – have quite
their own story to tell. Should I move to write a formal memoir, the early
years that I touched on at the Brown Day lecture episode will have their place
in such a narrative.
Just not under the auspices of the Geography Department that
would have relegated me to the presumed fleshpots of the West Coast.
I’m just not that forgiving.
Fred Markus