Adelaide, the Barossa, and Ntaria

Today (Tuesday) was our first full day of research here, and we spent it at the State LIbrary of South Australia. Such an impressive ediface, adapted for modern functionality, but repectful of architecture and tradition. Fabulous collections, of course.

Instagram moments at the SLSA

The signature setting of the SLSA is the Mortlock Chamber–cornerstone laid in 1879, with construction stretching well into the 1880s. A grand vision for a library and related cultural institutions of an idealistic state. Stacks up above, but mainly now a showcase for exhibitions and events. Currently decked out for Christmas.

Christmas at the MortLock

We spent the day in the modern research library, remaining until it closed at 7pm. We registered as researchers and commenced ordering documents for delivery to the reading room.

I’ll try to explain what we’re working on. We’ve resumed work on a line of research that is, in a real sense, a physical, not just metaphorical, line–a south-north transect spanning the Australian continent from Adelaide to Darwin. In travels over the past couple of decades we have, first, come to realize the significance of this continental passage through the desert (the route of Stuart’s explorations, of the overland telegraph, of the Ghan Railway, of the Stuart Highway), and second, identified some specific topics situated long the line that we are interested in and about which we think we can say something meaningful. For instance, years ago we learned that when the Australians retreated inland following the Japanese bombing of Darwin, it was the 147th Field Artillery, activated out of Pierre, South Dakota, that arrived to invest the city’s (hopeless) defenses. We maybe can’t tell Australins much about their sutuation during World War II, but we sure can tell them some things about the boys of he 147th, because we have their records. Plus, it’s both fun and sobering to locate and visit their camps, their anti-aircraft batteries, and their graveyards in the Northern Territory.

Now, here in Adelaide, we’re focusing on a suite of connected subjects: the immigration of Brandenburg Prussians (Evangelical dissenters) to the Barossa of South Australia in the 1840s; the activities of the Hermannsburg (Hanover) Missionary Society, which founded the Lutheran mission among the Arrernte people at Ntaria, in the desert west of Alice Springs; and the whole question of interaction of Indigenous peoples and German missionaries. There has been a lot of writing about the Fink River Mission, named Hermannsburg after its founders, among the Arrernte, but we think we can bring some incremental insights to the subject. Missionary agriculture, central to the Lutheran vision for Aboriginal salvation, failed. Because we ourselves have 150 years of experience farming in semiarid grasslands (as compared to the missionaries, who had none), we think we can make some observations about what happened. Moreover, there’s the Lutheran connection. Years ago we chanced upon the monument to the Lutheran missionaries who departed in 1875 from Bethanien Church, in the Barossa, to drive 2200 sheep across the desert and found the Fink River Mission. The memorial stands in the Bethanien, now Bethany, church compound near Tanunda. Only today, however, working through documents at the state library, did we realize that these missionaries were, like, kinsmen of mine. The year they struck north with that flock, my ancestors, like them Evangelicals from Hanover, commenced their first full year on their farms in western Kansas. Oh, and there’s more. The Evangelical Lutherans at Bethany, having dispatched the missionaries to Fink River, and after that gone through a local schism, reformed and constituted their own organization in Australia, which in turn affiliated with and American body, the Deutsche Evangelisch-Lutherische Synode von Missouri, Ohio und andern Staaten, the German Evangelical Lutheran Synod of Missouri, Ohio, and Other States. My ancestors, including great-great-grandpa Fritz, who sent four of his kids out to quarter-sections he purchased in Kansas from the Santa Fe Railroad, lived in a Hanoverian community in Auglaize County, Ohio, and were members of the same synod (after 1947 simply the Missouri Synod) as were the folk at Bethanien in the Barossa. So we know something, too, about Lutherans of the type that undertook mission work in central Australia. Heck, I used to watch Lawrence Welk on Sunday nights with a couple of them.

Pretty complicated, huh? Amazing connections across distances and oceans and deserts. Still today, here, we expanded our list of compelling topics along our line. I’m fascinated at the pellmell investment of social scientists out of Adelaide who invested the Hermannsburg mission immediately after the arrival of the first Ghan train in Alice Springs in 1929. It was like a gold rush of anthropologists and psychologists intent on documenting the primitive folk of the desert before they should perish from the face of the earth. It’s all disturbing and comic at the same time.

And of course, the Barossa is a world-class node of the new world wine industry, so there’s that. We’ll develop themes and stories here. In the meantime, we’re on to the South Australian Museum tomorrow.

En Route to Adelaide

Sitting in a United lounge in San Francisco, awaiting a 16-hour nonstop to Melbourne, but thinking ahead to arrival in Adelaide and the museums and repositories we will visit there. In the long run we have a catalog of topics we hope to pursue along the line from Adelaide through Central Australia north to Darwin, but in this particular junket, we have a particular interest in the German-speaking (Prussian) settlers of the Barossa and the Hermannsburg Mission to the Arrernte they established in the central desert, at Ntaria. Among the institutions we will visit in Adelaide:

All of which is exciting, but first we have to get there, and check into the Playford Hotel Adelaide. Seems a long way away, because it is.

The Menu

We’re charting out our archival and field research across South Australia, and it’s a full dance card. We will have to eat, however, and funny how as we discuss the upcoming journey (departing in two days, on Saturday), our conversation turns to memorable tastes during previous travels in these parts.

We gravitate toward the lowbrow vernacular tastes first, and so we should start a pool to wager how soon after arrival in Adelaide we will have our first pie.

Then there is that Adelaide institution known as Schnitty Night. The possibilities are endless, and Adelaideans have definite favorites among pubs specializing in Schnitzels. This establishment is fairly upscale.

Among locally distinctive beverages, we took a shine to pear ciders when last we visited Adelaide, possibly because it was hot at the time, and the pear ciders on tap had a nice light finish. Like this one.

At some point I’m sure we’ll wander with an appetite into the Central Market and graze. I hope this showcase of regional cuisine is still in business.

First and last, though, as visiting inlanders, we’ll avail ourselves of the cold-water advantages of the southern coast. Exploring new (to us) tastes in seafood.

All this before we depart Adelaide for the Barossa, with its own panoply of tastes.

All right, tomorrow I’ll talk about archives.

To the Barossa

The Arcade, downtown Adelaide

Beginning here a ramp-up toward our departure for Australia on Saturday the 15th, the beginning of a two-week expedition that concludes with attendance at the biennial conference of the New Zealand Historical Association, in Auckland, but only after a research venture in South Australia, and specifically the Barossa region. We travel first to South Australia, landing in Adelaide, and after visiting repositories there, proceed inland to the Barossa. We will be about 30 hours in transit Fargo to Adelaide, the long leg being 16 1/2 hours San Francisco to Melbourne.

This junket resumes a line of research just begun pre-COVID, as we contemplated investigation of a suite of topics along the continental transect from Adelaide on the southern coast to Darwin on the northern. This is a historic line, from the exploratory privations of John McDouall Stuart to the luxurious passages of modern tourists on the Ghan railway. Much to talk about along the way, but a particular story we intend to investigate begins with this stone Lutheran church in the Barossa.

Bethany Lutheran Church, Tanunda, South Australia

German-speaking Prussians colonized the Barossa in the 1840s and worshiped here. They established thrifty farms and impressive vineyards. And they felt inspired to carry their religion inland to the Arrernte people, in the central desert. More than a decade ago, curiously strolling the Bethany Church compound, we encountered a monument.

The monument connects Bethany Church to Ntaria, site of the Lutheran mission of Hermannsburg. This year the congregants of Bethany celebrate the 150th anniversary of the epic trek, waterhole to waterhole, of the missionaries driving two thousand sheep overland and carrying the Gospel with them. Two Sundays from now, we will worship with them at Bethany. We know we are pursuing a narrative that is, given the critical sensitivities of scholars and the public alike in the twenty-first century, fraught with controversary, but we proceed in good faith.

Dr. K and I expect to blog our progress and discoveries here. Thanksgiving for us, this year, will be in our hearts, as we will observe it coincident with the opening of the NZHA in Auckland.

Gunlogson Scholars

The past week Dr. Kelley and I have taken delight in hosting two distinguished scholars of the Great Plains–Molly P. Rozum, University of South Dakota, and David D. Vail, University of Nebraska at Kearney–while they conducted research in the collections of the Institute for Regional Studies in NDSU Archives. Great scholars, great guests. They came here courtesy of the Gunlogson Fund of the Institute, which awards grants for research in regional studies.

Rozum & Vail, Gunlogson research scholars, guests of the Institute

Molly, in her quest to explain the evolution of regional studies in the post-WW II era, has gone deep into the records of the founding of NDSU’s Institute for Regional Studies, the oldest regional studies center on the Great Plains of North America. She can tell us a lot about the Institute that we don’t know ourselves. David has uncovered rich material on risk and preparedness in Cold War-era agriculture on the Great Plains, from private diaries, scientists’ papers, and extension records.

History NDSU is fortunate to have the resources of the Institute–its manuscript and photo collections–available here, and fortunate, too, in that those resources attract scholars such as Molly and David. Both will be returning in the fall to make presentations of their research, so stay tuned.

Thanks to Candy Skauge for welcoming Molly and David to the reading room, and especially to John Hallberg for guiding them through our collections. Thanks also to the graduate students, faculty, and staff who turned out to interact with our guests.

Three Days of Agricultural History

Writing from St. Paul, departing shortly for home, after three solid days of history in company with the Agricultural History Society. Must have been a good meeting, as I have about forty pages of notes in my Moleskine. Dr. K and I consider the AHS an anchor in our yearly conference routine. I see she has posted images and comments from the conrerence here.

The key event in the program for me was the session yesterday morning where I had the honor of presenting, in collaboration with Blake Johnson, my most recent PhD, historian’s historian; and Dakota Goodhouse, a star among my current PhDs, Indigenous polymath; our co-authored paper, “A Hidden Hand: The Significance of Climate Change in Great Plains History.” I point-guarded the presentation, but it was their contributions that gave it life. Soch a pleasure to associate with such people. Doug Hurt, the moderator, was exceedingly gracious, and the other two paper presenters, Julie Courtwright and Jeff Bremer, both from Iowa State, brought outstanding papers. The feeling was, this is how things are supposed to go.

The affair got traction Thursday morning with a truly outstanding presidential address by Sarah Phillips of Boston University: “Indian Landlords and Socialist Votes: Imperial Indigestion in Oklahoma.” She set a high bar. The quality of proceedings was srong throughout, and the gathering (a fairly small orgnization) collegial. Saw a lot of old friends, made some new ones. Ate well. Discovered the Lobby Bar at the Hotel St. Paul.

Time well spent, now time to head home. Work piled up, dog to train, garden to tend. The feeling that summer now begins well and truly.

Loss

We mourn the loss of James F. Hoy–scholar, plainsman, colleague, husband, father, friend–and of his son, Josh, both of whom rode through the gate to better range last Saturday. Family have announced arrangements for a memorial observance 1:00-4:00pm Saturday 8 March, at William Lindsay White Auditorium, Emporia. We will post further details as disclosed. Thank you.

Rural & Regional, Readings & Research: Notes Toward a New Seminar

Beginning notes toward the commencement of a new seminar in History at North Dakota State University: rural & regional, readings and research. See a prospectus here. Commencing this January.

Scribbling in the Moleskine, which will be my companion in seminar sessions, and in which germinate the ideas that will animate it. Here are some notes on the initial readings and general posture–perhaps even the idea–of the seminar.

The paragraph above gives me excessive credit. I will lay out the program, but the seminarians will animate it.

Notes in the Moleskin

Ballad Hunting

Here in Waco for a family Christmas, having flown in on Monday. Marking papers all the way; grades submitted for the 10AM deadline yesterday. So Merry Christmas!

In odd (early AM) moments here, I’ve done some ballad hunting, searching for forgotten prairie ballads in newspapers.com using search phrases according to the older tunes appropriated by local balladeers. Ballad authors seldom composed melodies; when they needed one, they appropriated it–from a Civil War song, from a popular song, or from a Protestant hymn, commonly. A newspaper would publish contributed ballads with a notation something like, Air: Beulah Land or Air: Marching Through Georgia.

Using the search phrase Air: Greenland’s Icy Mountain, I came up with a real gem: “The Housewife’s Burden,” by Thomas Chalmers McConnell, as published in the Holton Tribune, 24 March 1988. McConnell, who was proud of his Scots-Irish lineage, was a notable character: a piano dealer, a Republican songster (composing campaign songs and organizing singing ensembles for party meetings), a locally notorious poet, a newspaper editor (Holton Tribune), and Jackson County clerk. He wrote a song from a woman’s point of view, a comic but pointed ballad about a woman struggling through daily life with a husband who was idle, a drunkard, and a politician to boot. This newfound ballad is destined for treatment in the Willow Creek Folk School and in a Plains Folk Kansas column.

Take up the housewife's burden
Tis morn, go milk the cow

Then, using the search phrase Air: Little Old Log Cobin, I unearthed two more forgotten ballads.

First, “The Man Between the Handles on the Plow,” a dandy Populist ballad by one W. W. Kirby, published in the Mound City Republic, 24 August 1893. Both author and ballad are previously unfamiliar to me. I need to research this guy Kirby. If he wrote one ballad, he probably wrote others.

For the strength of every nation is the toiler of the soil
And the man with honest sweat upon his brow

And after that, “An Old Time Song,” an early ballad of nostalgia about the trail ranch and whiskey outpot of Reynolds, a.k.a. Rath City, in the Texas Panhandle. The author listed is “A.H.,” location Colorado. So, someone formerly asociated with tbe buffalo hunting outpost of Reynolds who is now relocated to Colorado, initials A.H.

I never more shall see the men who daily passed my door
That much derided member of the Grange
And the brave and rugged hunter who roamed the prairies e'er
As he chased the noble Bison on the Range

My intermittent efforts in songcatching confirm the search strategy I first tried some months ago, using the song titles of tunes appropriated by prairie balladeers. This should produce many more ballads to come. The gifts keep on giving.