Here in the Archives, we get a lot of questions asking how researchers can access information. Specifically, we get a lot of requests for digital files, preferably accessible on the internet, searchable by keyword, easy to use, easy to find.

We live in an age of easily accessible research, so it is what is expected. It is not, however, something we are able to do at this time. We don’t have the staff, the time, the funding, or the storage space to host such massive collections online.

A lot of our information is readily and easily accessed, though the majority of our collections are not digitized, online or searchable by keyword. Many researchers get ideas of what they need when looking at an index of collections on our website. You do have to be present to access most of our collections, or at the least, pay a minimal fee for a search, borrow a reel of microfilm through our Interlibrary Loan program, or some other similar research.

Yet this is nothing compared to what researchers encountered in the past. Digging in can be tough at times; daunting, even. Research can be challenging, and it can be rewarding—but it can also be arduous.

The State Historical Society of North Dakota has roots going back to the late 1800s.[i] For many years, it existed as a shadow of what was to come within other buildings on the capitol grounds. The Archives didn’t exist as a separate division within the society until 1971 and did not have a specific location where the public could easily access the collections. The move of this agency into a new building, its current home, offered opportunities to disseminate history in many different ways, including a public access area into the State Archives (our Orin G. Libby Memorial Reading Room).

On February 2, 1981, Jim Davis, current head of reference, opened the Reading Room of the State Archives for the first time. In doing so, he ushered North Dakotans into a new world of research possibilities.

Jim tells me many stories of how things were done differently in these early days, as he has been around this agency longer than I have been alive—as I kindly point out to him. Even if he didn’t tell me these things, the composition of the building itself would. For example, we have a startling lack of accessible outlets in our public research room. When the building was built in the 1970s and 1980s, people did not bring computers and cameras and phones in with them. They may not have even had all of these items at their homes. Outlets weren’t as much of a necessity then. Things have changed.

Case in point: In 1985, a state law was enacted that naturalization records had to be transferred from the counties to the State Archives. After they arrived here, if someone requested a copy, staff would have to go up into the stacks area, find the person in the index (if there was one), bring down the book, and copy it on our copier. These books were large and heavy, and you had to be careful not to tear the book in trying to get the correct spot copied.

When I started working here as an intern in 2006, the names were indexed alphabetically, and the books all microfilmed. This means that when I started here, I could locate a name in our alphabetical paper index, find the roll, and make a microfilm copy on one of these old (but much loved) clunkers of a machine and print out a page.

Today, I can go onto our website, link to the Institute of Regional Studies, search a name partially by typing in part of their name (great for those that often get misspelled), find the roll, pull it up, put it into one of our new microfilm scanners, and save it as a pdf or print out a page. I might even be able to find some article about the naturalization or some other life event of the individual by typing their name into Chronicling America through the Library of Congress and searching randomly through the available years/locations of newspapers. I might type their name into our searchable webpage and find an oral history or photograph collection linked to their name.

Or even look back at Wendi’s recent blog post, “Our Collections, Coming to a Computer Near You,” about how we are working to link different collections in the building. How cool is that? The concept is that we will be able to search everything in this building with a few keystrokes. Everything! (Insert evil laugh here.)

Of course, there are some trade-offs to this great excitement. It still won’t be as easy as typing a string of query words into a toolbar and accessing every document online. It is easy to admit that some of the burden of research has lifted…although still not everything is searchable, not everything is indexed, and we get more to add to our collections every day.

Isaac Newton is attributed with the quote: “If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants.”

I could point out that I found the exact wording of this quote by typing in “quote standing shoulders” and searching Google—but let’s cut to the point. We are all standing on the shoulders of those pioneers of the past, just as they stood on the shoulder of their predecessors. Just think of where we will be in the future.

What happens to the objects in a museum’s collections if it closes? What happens to a private collection if the owner passes away, no longer wants to keep it, or no longer has the ability to care for it? The objects/collections within these examples are sometimes called orphaned collections. The size of these collections can vary from a small handful of specimens to upwards of thousands or even millions of specimens.

Before a museum agrees to add an orphaned collection into an existing collection, it is important to make sure the incoming objects fit within the mission of the collection. For example, the ND State Fossil Collection would not accept a large collection of baseball cards, no matter how valuable they may be. Baseball cards simply do not fit within the mission of the State Fossil Collection, but might be more appropriate if donated to a collection of historic objects. However, accepting a large collection of fossils from a relatively unknown locality in Bowman County, ND, is well within the mission. It is also important to decide whether this museum is the best home for the collection, as well as whether the museum has the capacity and know-how to care for the objects properly.

In 2015 the ND State Fossil Collection incorporated two large, orphaned collections. Both collections were comprised of fossil specimens collected within or very near to North Dakota, and both will shed light on faunas or individual species (or both) that are poorly represented or unknown from our state.

One collection is comprised of thousands of specimens of the dinosaur Edmontosaurus (small elephant size) collected from a single locality in the Hell Creek Formation along the very northern portion of South Dakota.

A small portion of our recently acquired collection of Edmontosaurus fossils. One pallet holds between 5 and 10 specimens in a roughly 4 ft. by 4 ft. area.

The site was comprised of multiple individuals of this one species of dinosaur, likely killed in a single cataclysmic event such as a flood or landslide. Virtually every bone in this dinosaur’s skeleton is represented in this collection, and the preservation of the bone is exquisite. Becky Barnes mentions working on/with this locality in her blog post.

The second collection is a large accumulation ( > 5,000 specimens) of mostly small animals (mouse size) from the Eocene epoch (35-55 million years ago) in Bowman County, ND.

A small portion of our recently acquired collection of Eocene fossils. One drawer (shown) holds between 350 and 450 specimens in a roughly 2 ft. by 3 ft. area.

This collection, also from a single locality, is by far the most diverse Eocene locality known in North Dakota and one of the best from this age in the world. A few papers have already been published on this locality giving detailed information about the small reptiles and a few groups of small mammals. However, there is much more to be done including work on bats, rabbits, dogs, horses, and deer to name only a few.

Both of these collections were tremendous additions to the North Dakota State Fossil Collection. We are working diligently to share the new discoveries within. Please stay tuned...

How do you fit 301 men, women, and children into 400 square feet of space? Very easily, if you are Rob Evans.

Rob Evans is the nationally and internationally known artist and muralist who was commissioned to paint the Double Ditch Village cyclorama^[1], the focal point of the new Innovation Gallery: Early Peoples at the North Dakota Heritage Center & State Museum.

Mr. Evans and the concept team from the SHSND’s Archaeology & Historic Preservation Division spent months in preparation, researching and providing the documentation that would ensure an historically accurate depiction of a 16^th-century Mandan village.

The village that was chosen for the mural is the Double Ditch Indian Village State Historic Site located 9.9 miles (as the eagle flies) northwest of the Heritage Center.

The hand-painted mural, crafted one small brushstroke at a time, shows one time in the life of the Mandan Indians. The date chosen was September of AD 1550. That very specific date was chosen by the concept team for a variety of reasons. Autumn would have been a bustling time in the thriving community, with the fall harvest and preparations for winter in full swing. The year AD 1550 would be historically accurate for the depiction of both the recognizable round earthlodge home of the Mandans in addition to its lesser known predecessor, the long, rectangular dwelling. The myriad of activities depicted include gardening, arrow-making, lodge and palisade repair, children playing, pottery making, and the preparation of corn, squash, and meat for winter storage.

The cyclorama wall, 50 feet wide and 8 feet tall, provided Mr. Evans with 400 square feet of canvas for his original artwork. He didn’t paint on canvas, though. The cyclorama is a curved wall of sheetrock fastened to upright metal beams with many screws. The face of the sheetrock was covered with a coat of gesso, an artistic plaster medium, to provide a smooth, curved surface on which he could apply his depiction of the Mandan village.

Three hundred (and one) acrylic men, women and children appeared over the three months Rob spent on the project. In addition, numerous bison skulls, earth lodge homes, herds of bison, and all of the fall activities of the village were carefully crafted. The images followed the prototype drawings and paintings that Rob had prepared in advance of the actual project.

The concept team, as well as the Native American consultants to the project, deemed it very important to include the sounds of the village in the finished painting. Historical recordings were appraised and the sounds and conversations appropriate to the time and place were chosen to be included in the project. When no appropriate archived file was available, contemporary Mandan speakers and singers from Fort Berthold were recorded, along with the sounds of children playing, dogs barking, birds singing and other sounds. The audio is heard on eight individual speakers mounted above the cyclorama. Each of the eight sound files is specific to the scenes in the corresponding segment of the painting. The speakers provide a multi-channel soundscape that brings the original painting to life.

Lit from below by 96 feet of LED lights, adjustable for color and intensity, the cyclorama comes alive before the eyes of the Heritage Center visitor.

The SHSND, in partnership with the North Dakota Archaeological Association, will present a series of six lectures titled, “A Vision of the Village: The Making of the Double Ditch Cyclorama” on the second Saturday of each month at 2 p.m. The series began on Saturday, January 9 and will continue on the second Saturday of each month through the month of June. (Note: The one exception is May, when it will be held on the third Saturday.) All lectures will be held in the Russell Reid Auditorium at the North Dakota Heritage Center & State Museum.

The lectures are free and open to the public. If you would like to hear more about Rob Evans’ painting, the research that went into the 400 square feet of art and the many details of a 16^th-century Mandan village, we encourage you to attend.

Oh, and we won’t confine you to 400 square feet of space.

If, perchance, you walk past my desk one day, you might wonder: Does she work here? Not much sign of labor. Just a woman stretched out in a chair, staring at a computer screen.

Dr. Barbara Handy-Marchello works very hard at writing for North Dakota Studies. Rockeman photo.

I must say my work does not raise a sweat on my brow or pound callouses onto my fingers. If I go home with a bruised thumb, it could be because I shut a drawer on my thumb, not because a hammer fell on it.

Nevertheless, I work.* Much of my work depends on thinking, leaving little in the way of a visible trail until some sort of product is finished. Writing curriculum is different from any other educational work I have ever done. There are no tests or papers to grade, no lectures to write, no lessons to develop, no students lined up at the door. Just a blank computer screen. It may be days before any sort of work product appears.

Starting with an idea about a project or a publication, I think about it, maybe read what someone else has written, and think some more. My fundamental question is always: “How do we make this idea (or subject or event) make sense and become meaningful to North Dakota’s young students?” 

On the other hand, I might start out to tackle a project with no idea at all. Take, for instance, articles in the North Dakota Studies newsletter. There is no formula or master plan to determine the next topic. I look for areas that we have not covered thoroughly in other publications. Or, I think about what might be a topic of current interest. In the next two years, the nation will be marking the 100^th anniversary of World War I. I expect to publish at least two articles about the role North Dakotans played in that war in North Dakota Studies newsletter. It will take a great deal of thinking to figure out how to write a historically accurate, student-friendly, and remarkably brief article on that big topic.

Another project on the horizon is the re-writing of Early Peoples of North Dakota by C. L. Dill. The thinking questions ahead of me involve how to make archaeology interesting and relevant to students and the general public. And how do I, trained in history, interpret archaeological evidence in a way that does no harm to either profession? That project will take a great deal of staring off into space, stretching back into my chair, and, the hardest work of all, making it look like work.

*Of course, I don’t work entirely alone. I get a lot of help from the Coordinator of North Dakota Studies, Neil Howe, and our techie-geekie, enormously talented new media specialist, Jess Rockeman. In addition, there are dozens of very knowledgeable people in every division who support the work of North Dakota Studies.

Not everyone warmly embraces the study of history. Some people say they are not interested in history at all. Others see history as something that is nice, in theory, but not necessarily significant to their daily lives. Some of us are interested in books and movies about historical topics, or our own family history, but reject the boring, fact-memorization we remember from school. We often don’t take time to think about the stories behind the objects we carry with us. We forget how technology has changed the scale of our world. This is something I like to call “historical blindness.” We have become desensitized to the unique history inherently connected to each person, item, and idea that populates our daily lives. So how do the staff at the State Historical Society of North Dakota (SHSND) work together to change this perception, help people regain their vision, and help everyone see that history is, in fact, essential?

The field of science is miles ahead of historians on this issue. The careers of Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye (the Science Guy) reflect the success that scientists have had in promoting an appreciation and respect for scientific understanding to a broad audience. Rather than simply providing “edutainment” for the masses, these professional scientists have legitimate academic backgrounds and are also stellar communicators. Science Communicators provide science-related outreach to non-experts and present topics in a fun and easy-to-understand format. They are storytellers, actors, marketers, and journalists. They are the link connecting the average layperson to the academic ivory tower. Science Communicators are equally at home demonstrating an experiment to kids or testifying in front of Congress. They rock, and the public loves them.

Historians need to embrace the concepts that Science Communicators have been demonstrating. The time has come to follow the advice of public historian Jason Steinhauer and embrace the title of History Communicator.[1] We already have public historians who generally work outside of the traditional college classroom. They are museum curators, archivists, educators, and all the people who work at the SHSND. Most of us already communicate with the general public on a regular basis. Steinhauer, who works for the Library of Congress, also supports the History Relevance Campaign. This loose network of history professionals have identified seven essential values of history as outlined in a values statement.[2] The values include establishing an identity through history; learning to apply critical thinking skills; creating strong communities; spurring economic development; engaging citizens; inspiring leaders; and establishing a legacy for the future.

Public historians are poised to become the History Communicators of the future. We are story tellers. We are museum whisperers. We are rock stars. The staff working at the SHSND—the History Communicators—in hand with the History Relevance Campaign, will help the general public finally understand that history is, in fact, essential.

When we last left you in December of 2014 (blog.statemuseum.nd.gov/blog/why-we-save-them) we were approaching the 2015 Legislative Session, hoping for a generous appropriation to further the restoration of the historic Stutsman County Courthouse –the oldest courthouse in North Dakota. Rescued in 1985 by the State Historic Society, this project is over 30 years in the making. Fast forward one year, and we are very pleased to offer an update and an insider’s look into the restoration process.

In August of 2015, work began on the installation of new restrooms, an electrical system update and the restoration of two offices on the main floor: the Clerk of Court and Auditor’s Offices.

Ryan Goodman, project manager for RDA (Fargo), is stripping a historic door of several layers of paint.

The existing (non-historic) restrooms were demolished—revealing several layers of 100-year-old wallpaper in the process. The tin was restored, fluorescent lights removed, and the room split down the middle in preparation for new facilities.

Custom wood partitions are built on-site for the new restrooms.

The Historic Clerk of Court’s Office before and after restoration. Custom doors were built to match the existing historic doors, the tin was repaired and painted, and all the woodwork was stripped down and completely refinished.

The historic Superintendent of Schools/Auditor’s Office before and after restoration.

Just one of many reasons we adore this building—as the restoration continues, we are finding that it is completely covered in roses!

Historic Sites Manager Guinn Hinman paints the ceiling medallions a historically accurate gold.

As of publishing time, the restrooms are nearing completion and work is beginning on the main floor hallway and historic Sheriff’s Office. We are adjusting to the novelty of having electricity and running water! Stay tuned for further updates in the coming months and more information on our Open House scheduled for May 14, 2016. For more photos and information, please follow our Facebook page!