Washingtonia

During this last year, I have been energized by the conversations over archaeological responses to the recent refugee and migrant camps in Greece. There is a rich tradition of an archaeological discipline, from Janet Okely's Roma camps in England (1975) to Jason De León s Undocumented Migration Project  in the Arizona-Mexico desert (2009). The conversation in Greece began in April, with the Archaeological Dialogues plenary session in Lesvos (see, The Nation). It will continue at the American Anthropological Association meetings in Minneapolis this November with two panels devoted to the Contemporary Archaeologies of Forced and Undocumented Migration as well as in January at the annual meetings of the Society of Historical Archaeology at Fort Worth. 

Struggling to organize my own thoughts and practices around this topic has resulted into a number of ideas. One of them, has been the realization that we need to do a lot more fieldwork-based archaeology (as opposed to the theoretical-based archaeology that also needs to be done in tandem). 

Few countries have the quantity of refugee settlements that Greece has historically had. Anthoula Karamouzi (1999) drafted a catalog of refugee sites in Greece and it numbers to the 3,000s. We tend to think of the Asia Minor refugees because of their demographic impact (2,089 new villages built by the Refugee Resettlement Commission) but we forget the refugees of earlier centuries like the encampment of African slaves under the Acropolis in the 18th century. In spite of the great quantity of refugee sites in the history of Greece, few of them have been approached archaeologically (as far as I know). I would argue that in order to build a hefty archaeology of the contemporary crisis, we also need to work on the foundations of historical crises.

So, I ask myself this question. What is the one refugee camp of historical significance that I would excavate first. This last summer, I had a wonderful conversation with Thomas Gallant to discuss our two projects on deserted villages (his in Kefalonia and Andros; mine in Lidoriki). The conversation also centered around the 1897 Greek-Turkish war and its archaeology. Tom has argued in his Edinburgh History of the Greeks 1768-1913 and elsewhere that we need consider the 1893 Greek bankruptcy and the 1897 failed war with Turkey as watershed moments in modern history. Tom has called for a carefully study of the 1897 battle lines in Thessaly.

In this thrilling conversation (over delicious fresh fish and wine in Pangrati), we started talking about the site of Washingtonia, in the Corinthia, as another ideal place to excavate. And this brings me back to the question of refugee sites. The first documented refugee site in Greece was built by the American activist Samuel Gridley Howe in 1829 at modern day Hexamilia. He named it Washingtonia. In his letters, we have a clear and detailed description of the architectural character of this site. During the 1990s, Timothy E. Gregory surveyed the area during the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey, finding no overground elements (see discussion here). Guy Sanders, director of the Ancient Corinth Excavations has also explored the site (see discussion here). Between Gallant, Gregory, Sanders, as well as Lita Gregory, Bill Caraher, David Pettergrew, and Dimitri Nakassis, I am sure the boundaries of a trench would easily emerge.

Howe described Washingtonia in his letters (edited posthumously by his daughter). The description provides clear parameters of what this excavation should look for. Definitely not traditional masonry walls, but obviously the shadows of ephemeral architecture, huts made of wood.

"I selected twenty-six families from Sico, Aivali, and Athens brought the men herewith me, in a few days put up some huts, and then transported their families here. They were all then employed in cultivating the earth. I procured about two hundred of the poor who were wandering about Corinth in idleness, and began building huts for the colonists. I determined to give each family a house, or hut as you would call it and as the foundations and the fallen walls [of a former village] remained, and since the earth mixed with water makes mortar, there was little that could not be done by the poor. They make the mortar, ring the stones, cut and bring the wood, and are paid [p. 354] merely as much bread as they can live up… When I say ‘doors,’ however, you must not imagine panels, hinges, latches,, locks, etc. There is not a particle of iron about them except nails, and perhaps I cannot give you a more correct idea of the economy and even saving we use than by describing one of them. It is composed of three boards, six feet in length, nailed together, and having an upright stanchion attached. Each end of this stanchion is pointed, and it is set into a hole mortised in the door-frame above and below. This serves for hinge. This door stands open in summer, and when closed is fastened by a wooden bar which shoves into a hole in the wall by its side. [p. 355]"

In 2015, Todd Brenningmeyer and I had the pleasure of surveying the deserted village of Penteskouphi with James Herbst and a gropu of wonderful undergraduate students from F&M and Maryville (picture above). Sanders presented his ongoing analysis of this mud-brick village at the Deserted Village panel of the Archaeological Institute of American 2016 meetings in San Francicso. While presenting this survey at a conference on the Ludlow Massacre at San Francisco State, I had the most amazing experience. A gentleman in the audience came to me after my talk and told me that his father was assassinated during the Greek Civil War. His father was abducted from Hexamilia (the site of Washingtonia), killed, and the body was dumped in Penteskouphi, but has never been found. Could the work in Penteskouphi be integrated with Hexamilia? 

Over the summer, I have been doing more research on the archaeology of Greek immigration. In the 1820s, Greek Philhellenism was centered in Boston (e.g. Howe) and Philadelphia. What I only recently discovered was that Howe went to Brown University in Rhode Island (where Yannis Hamilakis is now teaching). Brown's flagpole is dedicated to Howe and most amazingly, it was paid by the American Hellenic. The base of the flagpole has the shape of a Doric capital (see here). Also note that there is a brand new biography of Julia Howe (Samuel's wife) by Elaine Showalter that should nicely complement the 2012 Howe biography by James Trent. Howe's Papers are not at Brown, unfortunately, but at Harvard.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Gallant, Thomas. 2015. The Edinburgh History of the Greeks, 1768 to 1913: The Long Nineteenth Century, Edingurgh: Edinburgh University

Gregory, Timothy E. 2007. “Contrasting Impressions of Land Use in Early Modern Greece: The Eastern Corinthia and Kythera,” in Between Venice and Istanbul: Colonial Landscapes in Early Modern Greece (Hesperia Supplements 40), ed. Syriol Davies and Jack Davis, pp. 173-198, Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens.

Howe, Samuel Gridley. 1906. Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe: The Greek Revolution, ed. Laura E. Richards, Boston: Dunn, Estes, and Co.

Sanders, Guy D. R. 2013. “Landlords and Tenants: Sharecroppers and Subsistence Farming in Corinthian Historical Context,” in Corinth in Contrast: Studies in Inequality, ed. Steven J. Friesen, Sarah James, Daniel Schowalter, pp. 103-125, Leiden: Brill

Showalter, Elaine. 2016. The Civil Wars of Julia Ward Howe: A Biography, New York: Simon Schuster.

Trent, James W., Jr. 2012. The Manliest Man: Samuel G. Howe and the Contours of Nineteenth-Century American Reform, Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press

Greek Philadelphia 1908-1919: Baptismal Records

Over the summer, I had the privilege of working with my students at the Greek American Heritage Society of Philadelphia as part of our exploratory research on the city's Greektown around the year 1920. It was a season of great labor and discovery. Among other things, we digitized the entire 1920 US census of a sixteen-block area, catalogued archival photos, studied the architectural fabric of the houses, and transcribed interviews.

The Greek American Society of Philadelphia is a communal archival project that has been collecting visual and textual sources. Its collections vary and include historical photographs, books, records, and all kinds of publications. The most artifacts in the collection are a dozen ledger books that contain the records of the early community. Those books include the community's charter, minutes from its early meetings, lists of subscriptions and donations, and records of birth, marriage, and funeral services. The books are fragile and we hope will find a home that will guarantee their conservation and survival. 

The records are handwritten and in Greek and impossible for the students to transcribe. So, we photographed some of the books, and I am now evaluating their research potential. During the last week, I have started reading the ledgers. I have decided that I will start transcribing the birth/baptism records (Ληξιαρχικόν Βιβλίον Βαπτίσεων). For the period 1908-1919, we have some 750 records. The transcription cannot be streamlined because the writing is hard to decipher. It requires a working knowledge of Greek but also some sense of Greek topography. Although time consuming, I feel a great sense of scholarly responsibility to get this done, as it will for the first time make available primary demographic material.

Our research project this summer targeted the spatial transformation from Greek village house to American city rowhouse. We collected as much information as possible to start a study of Philadelphia's domestic material fabric. The birth records of the ledgers provide information that the US census or Ellis Island do not contain. They note the village of origin of the parents and godparents. By the end of the transcription, we should have a complete geographical network of the points of origin (at village specificity) for the first 750 American-born Greeks of the Philadelphia area (births include distant towns in Pennsylvania and New Jersey to which the Orthodox priest of Philadelphia ministered to)

Even after the slow process of transcription, I am also faced by the perennial problems of Greek toponyms. As I've already discussed back in 2008, working with Greek village toponyms is a nightmare. In order to purify the countryside from foreign-sounding influence, the central government carried out a campaign of renaming all villages with Slavic or Turkish toponyms. This was most aggressive after the ethnic cleansing of the Balkan Wars. This was received by great resistance from some places, which guaranteed that the new names never take root. We have encountered this already in the Lidoriki Project, as we traced the Greek emigres who built the now-deserted houses of Aigition. Consider this interesting scenario. Greeks of village called "X" migrate to the US in 1908 and create the national society of "Xans" to maintain links throughout their new country and to support their compatriots back home. The central government renames village "X" into "Y" in 1920. But this does not affect the "Xans" of the US. Do they all of a sudden become "Yans"? This will be interesting to quantify.

Rather than quickly plowing through the 750 birth records into a database of places and names, I have decided to carefully transcribe the entire textual entry. This will make the work ten times more laborious, but I feel that this is the most responsible scholarly thing to do. I have only completed the first dozen births, which cover the first year, 1908. I have not yet decided how I will make this data available at the end, but I wanted to give a taste of the transcription. See below what the records look like. Each entry contains the following information.

• Date of birth
• Date of baptism
• Name of individual
• Name and origin of father
• Name and origin of godparent

For the non-Greek reader, I provide a translation of the first entry. It would be great if we could crowdsource the transcription, but I understand how difficult this would be given the necessary skills. At any rate, it is exciting to present here the first Greek newborns following the legal establishment of the community in 1906.

1. Athanasia. Pan. D. Loume. (Born Sept., 3, 1907). Baptized by the parish priest of the Community, Demetrios Petrides, on March 22, 1908, serving witness [godparent] Michael Theophilas from Argos. The father of the baptized is from the Island of Spetses. Record Number 1.

1. Αθανασιά Παν. Δ. Λούμη. (Γέννησις 3 Σεπτ. 1907.) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του Εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Δήμ. Πετρίδου, τη 22α Μαρτίου του έτους 1908, παραστάντος Αναδόχου, του εξ Άργους καταγομένου κ. Μιχαήλ Θεοφιλά. Ο πατήρ της βαπτισθήσης κατάγεται εκ Σπετσών. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (1) [p. 113]

2. Βασιλική Χρήστου Ζαβάκου. (Γ. 27 Ιουνίου 1907 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του Εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου τη 5η Απριλίου 1908, παραστάντος ως Αναδόχου, του εκ Τριπόλεως καταγομένου κ. Θεοδώρου Αγγελετοπουλού. Ο πατήρ της βαπτισθήσης κατάγεται από το Χατίπη της Λακωνίας. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (2) [p. 113]

3. Γεώργιος Νικολάου Κεφαλοπούλου. (7 Ιανουαρ. 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου εν τη πόλει Cotsvile, Pa, τη 6η Μαΐου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του εκ του χωριού Λελέτου δήμου Σπάρτης καταγομένου κ. Παναγιώτου Γ. Ηλιοπούλου. Ο πατήρ του βαπτισθέντος κατάγεται εκ Σπάρτης. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (3) [p. 113]

4. Ελένη Αθανασίου Δαμάσκου. (1 Φεβρουαρ. 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου, εν Holly Mount N.J. (Νέας Υερσέης), τη 11η Μαΐου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του εκ Τζιτζίνα [Πολύδροσο] της Σπάρτης καταγομένου κ. Παναγιώτου Ν. Βουρνάκη. Ο πατήρ του βαπτισθήσης κατάγεται εκ της νήσου Σκιάθου. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (4) [p. 113]

5. ´Αννα Δημητρίου Ασιμοπούλου. (6η Μαρτίου 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου, εν Φιλαδελφεία, τη 1η Αυγούστου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του κυρίου Πέτρου Χ. Χαρίση, καταγομένου εκ Βελβενδού της Μακεδονίας. Ο πατήρ του βαπτισθήσης κατάγεται επίσης εκ Βελβενδού της Μακεδονίας. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (5) [p. 113]

6. Καλλιόπη Νικολάους Ζαβάκα. (Γ. 26 Φεβρουαρίου 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου, εν Φιλαδελφεία, τη 9η Αυγού. 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του εκ Χατίπι της Λακωνίας καταγόμενου κ. Ανδρέα Ζαβάνου. Ο πατήρ της βαπτισθήσης κατάγεται επίσης εκ του αυτού μέρους. Αριθμός πίστοποιητικού (6). [p. 113] Ο γραμματέυς της Κοινότητας Ιωάννης Κρητικός [p. 113]

7. Σταμάτα Γεωργίου Μαράκη. (Γ. 6 Μαΐου 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου, εν Φιλαδελφεία, τη 9η Αυγούστου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του εκ Σπάρτης καταγομένου κ. Νιλολάου Ζαβάκα. Ο πατήρ του παιδιού εδήλωσε πατρίδα την Πελοπόννησον. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (7). Ο Γραμ. Ι. Κρητικός. [p. 114]

8. Νικόλαος Αντωνίου Μαρίνου. (Γ. 3 Φεβρουαρίου 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου, εν Wilkes Barre Pa τη 12η Αυγούστου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του εκ Ξυροκάμπου Σπάρτης καταγομένου κ. Ηλία Κομνηνού. Ο πατήρ του παιδιού, κατάγεται εκ Γεράνου της Σπάρτης. Αριθ. Πίστοποιητικού (8). Ο Γραμματεύς Ι. Κρητικός [p. 114]

9. Βασιλική Παναγιώτου Αργύρη. (Γ. 17 Ιουνίου1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου εν Φιλαδελφεία τη 24η Αυγούστου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου, του εκ Αγίας Παρασκευής της Μακεδονίας καταγμένου κ. Εμμανουήλ Γεώρ. Καλαμπάκα. Ο πατήρ του παιδιού εδήλωσε πατρίδα την Μακεδονίαν. Αριθ. πίστοποιητικού (9). Ο Γραμματεύς Ι. Κρητικός. [p. 114] [cross in front suggests that she might have died]

10. Χρηστίτσα Γεώρ. Ζαγκάκη. (Γ. 24 Αυγούστου 1908 ) Εβαπτίσθη υπό του Εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου εν Φιλαδελφεία τη 25η Οκτωβρίου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του εκ του δήμου Σπάρτης καταγομένου κ. Παν. Γ. Ηλιοπούλου. Ο πατήρ του παιδιού κατάγεται εκ της νήσου Κώου. Αριθ. Πίστοποιητικού (10). Ο Γραμμ. Ι. Κρητικός [p. 114]

11. Αγγελική Ι. Α. Γεωργίτσα. Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερία της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου εν Φιλαδελφεία τη 30 του μηνός Αυγούστου 1908, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου εκ Σπάρτης καταγομένης κ. Ευαγγελίας Ι. Κωτσοβίτου. Ο πατήρ του παιδιού κατάγεται εκ Τζιτζίνα [Πολύδροσο]. (Αριθ. πίστ. 14). [p. 114]

12. Ελένη Ευαγγέλου Μαυρομμάτη. (Γεν. 8 Ιανουαρίου 1909). Εβαπτίσθη υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου το παιδίον του έξ Ιωαννίνων της Ηπείρου καταγομένου Ευαγγέλου Μαυρομμάτη, ονομασθέν Ελένη, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του Σταύρου Κατσούρη εξ Ηπειρωτικού καταγομένου τη 21 Φεβρουαρίου 1909. (Αριθ. πίστ. 15). [p. 114]

13. Σταύρος Γεωργίου Σταύρος. (Γ. 6 Μαρτίου 1909). Εβαπτίσθη εν Φιλαδελφεία υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου το παιδίον του έξ Νεγοβάνης [Φλάμπουρο] της Μακεδονίας καταγομένου παραστάντος ως αναδόχου εκ Νεγοβάνης Καζά-Φλωρίνης της Μακεδονίας καταγομένου Δημητρίου Ν. Κέλλη ονομασθέν Σταύρος τη 21 Φεβρουαρίου 1909. (Αριθ. πίστ. 16). [p. 116]

14. Δημήτριος Εμμανουήλ Χαραλάμπους. (Γενν. 6 Μαρτίου 1909). Εβαπτίσθη εν Φιλαδελφεία τη 12 Απριλίου 1909 υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημητρίου Πετρίδου το τέκνον του έκ Βελβινίου της Μακεδονίας καταγομένου Εμ. Χαραλάμπους ονομασθέν Δημήτριος, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του εκ Βελβινίου καταγομένου Δημητρίου Ασμοπούλου (Αριθ. πίστ. 18). [p. 116]

15. Γεώργιος Αναστασίου Κυριάκου. (Γενν. 14 Ιουνίου 1909). Εβαπτίσθη εν Φιλαδελφεία τη 13 Απριλίου 1909 υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος Αιδ. Δημ. Πετρίδου, το τέκνον του εξ Αθηνών καταγομένου Αναστασίου Κυριάκου και ονομάσθει Γεώργιος, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του εκ Ρεβίδους Σπάρτης καταγομένου Παναγιώτη Νικολατσιου (Αριθ. πίστ. 18). [p. 116]

15. Γεώργιος Αθαν. Ηλ. Σπυροπούλου. (Γεν. 4 Ιανουαρίου 1909). Εβαπτίσθη εν Πότσβιλ Ρα, υπό του εφημερίου της Κοινότητος ταύτης Αιδ. Δημ. Πετρίδου, το τέκνον του εκ Τριπόλεως καταγομένου Αθανασίου Ηλ. Σπυροπούλου και ονομάσθει Γεώργιος, παραστάντος ως αναδόχου του εκ Σπάρτης καταγομένου Γεωργίου Μινακάκη Απριλίου 18, 1909 (Αριθ. πίστ. 20). [p. 116]

The Archaeology of Refugee Crises in Greece: Diachronic Cultural Landscapes

Since we returned from the field in the summer of 2015, a number of archaeologists have been brainstorming on the appropriate response to the refugee crisis in Greece. Since March 2016, when the northern borders closed, Greece has been creating camps scattered throughout abandoned sites. Effectively, we have the transformation of archaeological sites of abandoned modernity converted into residential camps of postmodernity. Survey archaeologists have been studying Greece's contingent countryside through a variety of methods (remote sensing, surface survey, ethnography, etc.) Greece's new camps should now be submitted under the scrutiny of this cultural geography. In my little sketch, for example, you see the juxtaposition of Camp Koutshochero and Mandra, a village built in 1922 to house Greek refugees from Cappadocia. Koutsochero is being evacuated as we speak, as the United Emirates have committed to building 200 permanent houses. There has been a lot of unrest (once again) with the relocation of the 1,000 current residents. Although a moving target, shifting day-to-day, I have been trying to apply remote sensing and some rudimentary research to document some of these sites. I am not sure if this is going to work. 

The conversation over camps will continue at the 2017 Annual Conference of the Society of Historical Archaeology in a session organized by Chris Mathews, "The Archaeology of Care: Rethinking Priorities in Archaeological Engagement." I have submitted this abstract: 

The Archaeology of Refugee Crises in Greece: Diachronic Cultural Landscapes

The escalation of the Syrian Civil War caused a refugee crisis in Greece as thousands of people crossed the Aegean, leading to tragic loss of life. When Balkan neighbors closed their borders in 2016, some 50,000 migrants and refugees were trapped in Greece. The country responded by a dispersing this population throughout the country in new camps over abandoned sites like army camps, tourist resorts, commercial spaces, gymnasia, fair grounds, and even archaeological sites. Using lessons from the archaeology of the contemporary world, we apply remote sensing, media analysis, and limited field observation to document camps in real time and to address ephemeral urbanism. Refugee camps have been a permanent reality in Greece for a century. The paper also considers camps from the 1912-14 Balkan Wars, the 1922 Asia Minor Catastrophe, World War II, and the Greek Civil War and outlines a comparative archaeology of crisis.

Philadelphia Greektown

Greektown is an interesting term. It seems to have come into usage when Greeks were beginning to abandon their urban neighborhoods on their way out to the suburbs. A few Greektowns--most notably Chicago and Toronto--used the designation to create a marketable commercial area promoting a Greek experience (culinary, etc.) If you ask anyone in Philadelphia were was its Greektown, they will look at you like you're crazy. Urban redevelopment wiped out Philadelphia's Greektown in the 1960s. White flight coupled by the expansion of medical centers encouraged Greeks to leave their original neighborhood and found new communities at Elkins Park, Broomall, and Cherry Hill. Saint George, one of the two original churches, remained in its original location mostly because it served as the Cathedral of the Bishop of New Jersey. A Greek retirement home right behind the church also guaranteed the maintenance of an elderly community. 

What were the limits of Greektown in the 1920s? Well, that's one of the things we hope to establish in our research this summer. We begin with a provisional demarcation of Greektown as it was defined by oral histories in the 1960s, an area between Walnut and Lombard and Twelfth and Eighth streets. 

Greek Philadelphia. Stephano Residence

If you have ever seen a pack of Camel cigarettes, you would have undoubtedly noticed the Egyptian iconography. Egyptian tobacco was considered most elite and coveted as superior to Virginia tobacco. Few appreciate that Egyptian cigarettes were actually manufactured by the Greeks of Egypt who brought the product to the United States. Stephano Brothers was one of the best known manufacturers of Egyptian cigarettes and major players in the Greek community of Philadelphia. The company's Rameses II cigarette brand was so successful that they built a grand Beaux Arts factory on 1014-16 Walnut Street, designed by Ballinger. The photo below shows Stephano Bros (demolished in the 1960s), courtesy of Temple University Urban Archives. More photos of the building can be found at the Athenaeum in the Ballinger Archives (see here).

The Stephano family is one of the subjects of this summer's Hackman research that I am conducting with two undergraduate students. We will be studying the materialities of ethnic communities, particularly through buildings, spaces, and objects. Preliminary archival research has lead me to Constantine Stephano's naturalization papers of 1904, ten years after his arrival from Greece. He lists 317 S 12th Street as his residence. 

According to oral tradition, the Stephano Brothers began their cigarette empire at the basement of their house. If this is correct, we have established a locus of domestic manufacturing. We have written to the owners of the property and hope to gain access inside. The house belongs to a development stretching from 309 to 323 S 12th and sandwiched between older townhouses. The block is best known by two 1970s landmarks of gay life, Giovanni's Room to the south and the Alexander Inn to the north. With some further research, we will establish the construction date of this house and add it to the architectural narrative of Greektown. Although this part of the research might not be possible, I would like to compare this post-immigration residence in Philadelphia with the pre-emigration residence in village Dikorfo, Epirus, where the Stephanos originated.

The Stephano Bros. introduced their most successful brand, Rameses II, in 1895. Its early packaging (see here) featured images of Ramses II and Amenhotep. In the 1910s, the company highlighted aristocracy; this 1918 print ad deploys Washington's Mount Vernon residence up on a hill. By connecting the architectural dots, we hope to articulate an important modality of trans-nationalism in the early 20th century mitigated by the Greek diaspora. There has been little scholarship on the Stephano Brothers cigarette empire. But I suspect that their source of tobacco might have been Thrace and Macedonia. In Kavala, for instance, the American Tobacco Company had established an outpost in 1901.

Archaeology of Care: Refugee Crisis in Greece

Bill Caraher posted a challenge back in September. An Archaeology of Care generated a flurry of conversations mostly off-line on how the archaeological community might respond to the refugee crisis in Greece. Archaeologists of the contemporary world have provided the theoretical and methodological framework for action. Caraher's challenge was even more pronounced among his collaborators of the North Dakota Man Camp Project. For the last four years, we have been surveying itinerant camps associated with the oil boom (see Bakken Goes Boom publication here)

Incidentally, many of the Man Camp collaborators work in Greece and Caraher's challenge was the following. How do we take the methodology from studying encampments of prosperity to studying encampments of suffering? We haven't answered the question, but we all know. It is going to be impossible to go to Greece this summer and not tackle this challenge. My fieldwork in Deserted Greek Villages tackles a related phenomenon, when masses of Greeks migrated to the US after the 1893 economic crisis. Refugees and refugee management is central to the history of my foreign school, the American School of Classical Studies, who in 1932 excavated the Athenian Agora because of refugee encampment (above) -- see Nikki Sakka, "The Excavation of the Ancient Agora of Athens: The Politics of Commissioning and Managing the Project," Yannis Hamilakis, etc.

Over the last six months, Bill Caraher, Richard Rothaus, and I have been initiating a number of conversations with as many people as possible to figure this one out. Our first conversations was with cultural anthropologists with deep roots in the study of asylums in Greece. The Modern Greek Studies Association has been an incredible forum for these conversations, particularly in the 2015 conference in Atlanta. Under the leadership of Despina Lalaki, the MGSA drafted a selection of volunteer organizations and made it part of our official website. The MGSA Occasional Papers (edited by Neni Panourgia) has also been an important platform of discussion, see Katerina Stefatos, Dimitris Papadopoulos, and Chloe Howe Haralambous, "Notes From The Border: Refugee Lives and Necropolitics In The Aegean, August-November 2015" (MGSA Occasional Papers 8), Heath Cabot, "The Banality of Solidarity" (MGSA Occasional Papers 7), and Theo Rakopoulos, "Solidarity, Ethnography, and the De-instituting of Dissent" (MGSA Occasional Papers 6). Heath Cabot's book, On the Doorsteps of Europe: Asylum and Citizenship in Greece is an important starting point.

What makes the refugee crisis academically exceptional is that the Island of Lesbos houses Greece's only department of cultural anthropology (here) and has already produced critical scholarship. Katerina Rozakou's research is crucial here. This semester, I am using The Biopolitics of Hospitality in Greece: Humanitarianism and the Management of Refugees in an International Studies course. So, Bill and I spoke with Katerina in the Fall to get a better sense of what the fieldwork possibilities might be. Katerina sobered us up. The number of NGOs that have gathered in Lesbos is staggering, and this was before Susan Sarandon, Weiwei, or Angelina Jolie arrived. Bill and I had hoped that there might be a research team already on-the-ground collecting ethnographic data onto which we could attach and supplement material culture or landscape documentation.

Six months after Bill's initial call for an archaeology of care, we have not formulated a clear plan. What has emerged from these conversations, however, are a few ideas of how to tackle the refugee crisis even in a preliminary way. Below are some specific strategies.

1.  GOALS

The goals of this project would be to record the material imprint of this historical event of great magnitude. We have a bunch of research questions formulated by the historiography on camps more generally (e.g. Charlie Hayley, Camps: A Guide to 21st Century Spaces) and our fieldwork in ND Man Camps specifically. Our collaborator Richard Rothaus has participated in archaeological relief work in Turkey (after the 1999 earthquake in Turkey, see here) and is helping us formulate short-term strategies. Our primary goal is to document a social process through physical documentation. We come to the project without a hypothesis but an urgency to capture material realities for future analysis.

1.  LONG vs SHORT TERM

As in the case of the itinerant worker camps in North Dakota, the refugee camps are temporary. Once the crisis abates, these sites will return to oblivion. But they would have captured the material imprint of their refugee biography. The long-term perspective is one of committing to returning to the sites after the populations have departed. The refugee camps are off limits now, unless we find a way to participate through a relief organization. If we plan to return post-abandonment, our goal for the archaeology of occupation is to establish a datum. We can accept that our role now might even be counter-productive, standing in the way of relief organizations.

2.  INVENTORY

In just the last six months, the number of formal and informal sites has been increasing in great numbers. As archaeologists of the contemporary past, we can assemble the data as it comes, whether from news coverage, or from on-ground experiences of volunteers. We are intrigued by the plethora of video coverage as part of the new landscape of activism and the possibility of using those videos as documents of physical reality. The inventory will help strategize on how to proceed with micro-analysis, mapping, and direct observation.

3.  MAP

We take inspiration from remote sensing as an important mapping tool in contemporary archaeology. This methodology has been used in the archeology of Guantanamo Bay (see, Adrian Meyers) and more recently in documenting cultural heritage destruction in Syria and Iraq. High resolution satellite imagery and other geo-spatial data can make the mapping of refugee sites possible without stepping foot on Greece.

4.  PROSPECT

Even without a coherent method of data collection, it is possible to streamline some ground rules on how to prospect on the ground. The collection of this kind of data will have to be collaborative. Could it be a set of guidelines, or scripts that we can follow consistently? What is the role of video or photography?

5. COLLABORATE

By its very precarious nature, this kind of data collection can only be managed collaboratively. None of us has the budget, time, or access to prospect everyone of Greece's sites. Using a model of collaborative data collection, possibly online, we can slowly build a significant body of data. It has become clear to me that many of the traditional summer programs in Greece are beginning to reorient their curriculum around the crisis. College Year in Athens has already formalized their response with a class on The Global Governance of Migration: Emerging Responses to Irregular Migration. I already know half a dozen of fellow academics who are volunteering their Spring Break and have gone to Greece to volunteer. September 2016 will be a very important month, as we all return from varying experiences of ad hoc investigation. That might be the time of formulating. 

Karkavitsas: HIS FLUTE

Andreas Karkavitsas, “Η Φλογέρα του,” [“His Flute”], in Διηγήματα [Short Stories], Athens: Estia (1892), reprinted in Άπαντα, ed. Georgios Valetas, vol. 1, pp. 133-155. There is a digital (but slightly different) version of the text here.

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"His Flute" is the story of a newlywed Stathis and Smalto. Secretly, Smalto is thrown into disarray by her inability to resist a repulsive shepherd who seduces her by his flute-playing. Smalto's inner voice that tells the story struggles ethics of aesthetics. The affair is put to rest only when Smalto shatters the instrument of seduction. "The flute was small and golden with five black holes in its mouth and one more on the opposite side." Ήτο τω όντι η φλογέρα του Μήτρου. μικρά, χρυσίζουσα, με πέντε τρύπας μαύρας εις τα χείλη και άλλην μίαν εις το αντίθετον μέρος.

Seduction takes place in the fields where Smalto herds her ducks and the shepherd Mit herds his sheep. But the village plays an important role with its “numerous houses scattered here and there along a low hill.” At first, the houses resonate with life in celebration of its patron Saint Nicholas. But when the festival is over, and the workdays begin, the village is abandoned by its inhabitants working in the fields. “All the doors were shut and through the small windows one could see the darkness and abandonment inside.” οι ευάριθμοι οικίσκοι του, εδώ κι εκεί επί χαμηλής λοφοσειράς σκορπισμένοι, είχον τας θύρας όλας κλειστάς και από τα μικρά παράθυρα των εφαίνετο εντός το σκότος και η ερημία. [134] This is a helpful insight to consider. A Greek village would have been entirely empty for most of the day. Men, women, and children would be out in the fields.

In this silence, only the Melopoulos house stands out. Its newlywed bride Smalto is still inside. She refuses to go to work, to leave the village because she wants to avoid the shepherd’s temptation. Looking voyeuristically from the outside, the readier, captures this view. “The light of day entered already in abundance through the open door and window, from which Smalto was seen in the shadow with still sleepy eyes. With a heavy body, she turned the bedspreads one-by-one from the ground over a turned-over basket." Το φως της ημέρας εισέδυεν ήδη άφθονον από της ανοικτής θύρας και του παραθύρου, από του οποίου εφαίνετο η Σμάλτω εν τη σκιά με νυσταλέους ακόμη οφθαλμούς και βεβαρημένον το σώμα, εγείρουσα νωθρώς τας στρωμνάς μίαν – μίαν από του εδάφους και αποθέτουσα επί μιάς ανεστραμμένης κοφίνας. [134]

Karkavitsas uses architectural detail to articulate states of mind. And Smalto is not an ordinary villager. First, she is of Vlach descent -- like the shepherd. Second, and more importantly, she is a transparent medium of sensational experience. Her optic centering turns those experiences to fire. "She was a perfect mirror of a wild existence. Her person was extremely curious of sensing natural phenomena. She collected experiences and centered them within her as a lens centers the ray of light." Ήτο δε τέλειος καθρέπτης μιάς αγροδιαίτου υπάρξεως. Το άτομόν της ήτο υπερβολικώς περίεργον εις τας εντυπώσεις της φύσεως και τα υπέμενε και τας συνεκέντρου εντός της όλας, όπως ο φακός τας ηλιακάς ακτίνας. [137]

Then there is a wonderful description of the landscape, when Smalto goes out into the fields (too long to translate right now)

Ο ήλιος είχεν υψωθή αρκετά εις τον ορίζοντα, κολυμβών μέσω αργυρού αιθέρος πυκνοτάτου και περιέλουε τους θερισμένους αγρούς, τας πρασίνας σταφιδαμπέλους, τους βυσσινίζοντας βουνούς του Χελωνάτα και τα πέριξ όλα δι’ αφθόνου φωτός . τα χωρία κατέκειντο εδώ κι εκεί , με τας υπομαύρους στέγας και τους λευκοκιτρίνους τοίχους των οικίσκων των, εν αμόρφη όγκω, ως χορταριασμένα ερείπια. Ποίμνια έβοσκον παντού και βοών αγέλαι και ίππων εν συμβιώσει, ενώ ωρθούντο πλησίον αι σκιάδες των φυλάκων, με την [138] πιμήκη εκ ξηρών χόρτων στέγην και τους λεπτούς και στεβλούς στύλους των, ως μεγάλα καψαλά πτηνά, ορθούμενα επί των κατίσχνων ποδών των. Από πολλα μέρη ανέβαινον λευκοί καπνοί, ταχέως εξαφανιζόμενοι, και υπεφαίνοντο κάποτε γλώσσαι φλογών, ενώ αντήχει ο τριγμός του ξηρού χόρτου, καιομένου επί των αλωνίων. Τα βουνά προς ανατολάς εκρύπτοντο μέσω πυκνής ομίχλης και μόνον τ’ ακροβούνια ασθενώςν διεγράφοντο εις τον ορίζοντα, ως κομμένα χάρτινα συμμπλέγματα όπισθεν γαλανής υάλου. Κι εν τη νεκρική εκείνη της πεδιάδος ησυχία μόνον τα ξηρά χόρτα και τα φύλλα εψιθύριζον κινούμενα υπό του ανέμου, όστις έπνεεν από της θαλάσσης δροσερός – δροσερός. [139]

Smalto abandons herself in this landscape. Lying on the ground, her hands immersed into the clots of dirt, she shakes from the weight of her own body, as the muscles slowly relax. Karkavitsas' description is so somatic. Η χείρ της λυγερής επόνει τρυπωμένη επί των βώλων του χώματος κι έτρμεεν ελαφρώς απηυδηκυία υπό το βάρος του σώματος, χαλαρουμένου ολονέν. [140]

One of my favorite things about the story is also how Smalto herds her ducks, with the words Πίκιο, πίκο. το γαλί, γαλί, γαλιό [144]

A few words about location. Karkavitsas tells us that the story takes place in the village of Troumpé, which was renamed Demetra in 1953 (Location, 37°53'11.21"N, 21°13'16.01"E). The village is in the flat plains of Vartholomio and Gastouni. When Smalto goes herding, she seems to be heading east towards Kastro Chlemoutsi, where the terrain gets hillier and closer to the beautiful coast. The area presents an interesting topography (see Kourelis 2003, p. 254). Kastro Chlemoutis is the only landscape feature visible across the plain which it commands. Demetris Athanasoulis describes this area as the triangle of power in the Frankish Middle Ages (see Athanasoulis 2013). It has unique landscape sensibilities. I vividly remember stoping at Karkavitsas' village nearby and having a coffee with Demetris. The kafeneion was in the main street thoroughfare. It was such a unique feeling.

Another interesting location is referred to briefly, when the shepherd Metros narrates his story to Smalto. He is an outsider, an orphan, herding other's sheep for a living. His point of origin is from the lagoons around Kotychi, a different ecology altogether (a series of lagoons used for fishing but surrounded by forest). Μίαν ημέραν ο Μήτρος διηγήθη την ζωήν του, με δύο λόγια. Κατήγετο από τους Κατσαπαίους, οικογένειαν βλαχοποιμένων, κατασκηνούσαν πλησίον του ιχθυοτροφείου του Κοτυχιού. Οι γονείς του αφήκαν αυτόν ορφανόν πολύ μικρόν, εις την νάκαν ακόμη. ο πατήρ του απέθανον από τύφον, πριν γεννηθή αυτός. η μήτηρ του αμέσως μετά την γέννησίν του. ... κι εμισθώθη εις ένα κτηνοτρόφον εκ Σουλεϊμάναγα, του οποίου τώρα έβοσκε τα πρόβατα. [143]

The Wedding Photo: Lidoriki Object 116

In Summer 2016, a team of students photographed 136 objects from the Lidoriki Folklore Museum. Lizzy Wood, among the students, is currently working up this collection into a digital exhibition and catalog. Our process of writing up an academic catalog entry for each object involves an open-ended on-line conversation about what makes these objects interesting. Lizzy has given me the challenge of writing down some first thoughts. Here it goes.

A wedding photograph signifies the penetration of technological mediation in the lives of rural Greece. Portrait photography became a fundamental medium in late-19th-century socializing, through visitation cards, wedding or funeral images. Photographic studios opened in Athens but their story in provincial towns (like Amfisa) is less known. Photography played an additional pre-wedding role in Greek life through the phenomenon of “picture brides” during the great emigration of the 1890s-1920s. Single male immigrants in the U.S. had no access to eligible females. Co-patriots would send photographs of eligible brides from back home. These arranged long-distance marriages were the subject of a 2004 film Brides. This, of course, is not unique to Greeks and continues to play a courting role in migrant laborers across the globe (digitally).

But this is not a photo-bride, but a commemoration of the wedding day. It was most likely not taken on the actual wedding day, so it repeats the dress-up of that momentous event. The long exposure required in early photography necessitated the special lights that only a photo studio could make possible. Most of the early portraits are staged at the photo studio. Without electricity in homes, you could not have domestic interior photography until much later. Photo studios became both the place and the artistic agent for photography. In this process, the photo became an advertisement of the studio, which is why the studio is so prominently marked on the photo. Isn’t it interesting that the names of the wedding couple are not commemorated (and hence forgotten) but the name of the studio that photographed them is?

A few words about the studio. The studio of Euthymios Macheras was a prominent (perhaps the only) photographic studio in Amfissa, the closest city to Lidoriki. The Hellenic Literary and Historical Archive contains a number of the studio’s photographs of couples, children, urban scenes (available digitally here). We have no date for the wedding photo, but it fits in the 1910-1930 range. If we did a thorough stylistic analysis of the wedding fashions, we might be able to narrow the range. 

The “Euth. Machairas. Photographic Studio, Amfisa” label at the lower right corner is interesting as a work of graphic design (my sketch left). It uses cursive, ornate letters for the name of the proprietor, but technocratic capital letters for the declaration of function. Graphically, it is a hybrid of artistic flair (top) and bureaucratic regularity (bottom).

Rather than looking at the most obvious – the objects, clothes, insignia of ceremonial dress – I look at clues on the architectural setting. My sketch (left) is a projected ground plan of the photographed space. Looking at the lower part of the portrait, one sees two courses of stone and a carpet. This is clearly not an indoor studio setup up but a photo in front of an actual house, and, even more, a house with a side-walk, so an urban house. What is puzzling is that there is no vertical house wall on the background, which is white. It seems to me that the photographer draped a cloth over the front of the house to create a blank slate. Now this is interesting in that it turns the street into a studio. The photo looks like a professional studio installation, but it was taken outdoors. A close look at the ground information also shows a textile draped over the sidewalk and placed right in front of the couple’s steps. During the ceremonial walk of wedding couple from their homes to the church, villagers used to drape the streets with carpets so that they never stepped on anything but a domesticated soft surface (think red-carpet at the Oscars). The striped fabric in front of the couple is such a carpet. Its striped design is visible, showing the parallel mechanism of the loom production. Although the carpet is traditional, the form of commemoration (photography) is modern as are the shoes that will step on the traditional carpet, most fashionable white high heels for the bride and shiny dressy black shoes for the groom. How does this help us reconstruct studio practices in Greece. First, it suggests that urban photo studios travelled outside of the studio and took wedding photographs in-situ. If the photo was indeed taking in Lidorki, then it would have been taken along its main street that would have included a side-walk. Second, the itinerant photographer brought along a fabric that they hang over the front of the house to disguise its architectural specificity, focus attention on the figures, and make it look as if they stepped into a studio.

Paradoxically, this is exactly how we took photos of our Lidoriki objects. We hang a plastic sheet that was backed with a photographic white fabric. Here, you see, our impromptu photo studio from the Lidoriki Folklore Museum.

Finally, I am intrigued by the frame. It is divided in two complementary zones, a smooth lacquered wood inside that transitions smoothly into the glass, and a carved wood outside that comes from the world of painting. The outer frame is not machine made but carved. It includes patterns of roses, florets, and leaves (detail sketch above).