Author: Thomas D. Isern

High summer in North Dakota–so naturally, we’re getting ready to leave the country. Tuesday we fly to Norway to tour around a bit and attend an academic meeting–the annual conference of the Agricultural History Society, in Stavanger, 4-6 August. We’ll fly into Oslo, there to see some sights, thence to Kristiansand, where we hope the sun shines. After that we board a train for Stavanger, and at conclusion of the conference, we’ll also take the train back to Oslo.

It’s 1:00am, and Dr. Kelley is still hard at work on a project for NDSU Press. She needs to get this book to the designer before we leave in order to keep to production schedule. She already has pulled one all-nighter on it. Me, I just a few minutes ago finished a draft of the paper I am to present in Stavanger: “A Radical Misapprehension: Reckoning with Climate Change on the Great Plains of North America.” I’ll give more details later. For now I’ll just say, the argument is that major human developments on the plains–the rise of village farmer peoples on the northern plains, the acquisition of horses and emergence of Plains Indians as pastoral peoples, the rapid rise and fall of the range cattle industry, and agricultural settlement by EuroAmericans–all were enabled by the advent, duration, and conclusion of the Little Ice Age.

It’s been a full summer, and lately, we’ve been pushing hard, so we’re both looking forward to the trip. And, believe it or not, looking forward to the transactions of the conference. Because of the venue, the attendees will not be just the usual suspects. Oh, we’ll see old and good friends, but also meet quite a few new ones. With maybe some new ideas. The quality of work at the AHS conference typically is remarkably high.

We’ll be packing some work along, but Dr. Kelley promises to relax now and then while we’re gone. I hope so. Although I find myself packing a number of short writing projects, and I’ll have to log on via Chromebook and work on getting my fall courses in order.

Rest now.

Wrote this on Wednesday, but failed to post it: “Headed for Denver – Dr. K & I & five graduate students – for the annual meeting of the Western Social Science Association. All presenting papers. If United gets us off the ground from Fargo. This will be a pretty hectic trip. Any down time, I’ll try to catch up on writing. Also, with all the grad students along, it’s a good time to catch up with them as to their individual programs. And, gonna try to find someplace to wine and dine Dr. K in style. She works too hard.”

Well, we did have a bit of a celebration for Dr. K on Thursday night, recognizing both her recent promotion and her birthday with a get-together at the Brown Palace. Old friends, along with our students, made a festive time.

Otherwise it was mostly business Thursday and Friday. Dr. K and I each gave papers in the New Zealand & Australian Studies Section of the meeting; mine revisited our long line of research on the Lindis district of Central Otago, looking toward renewal of that work post-COVID. Dr. K can talk about her paper for herself.

Our grad students really distinguished themselves. Aaron Barth, Dakota Goodhouse, Jake Morris, Stefani Aulner, and Oliver Sime all presented papers and all knocked them out of the park. They really burnished the NDSU brand here.

Last night we streamed the folk school from here at the Hilton. Lisa Ossian, coordinator of the Rural & Agricultural Studies Section, wrote it into the program, so we had a local audience on hand. This was fun and seemed to go over well. The core of the folk school program was my paper on the granger ballad, “The Farmer Is the Man.”

We spent most of the day today walking around downtown Denver, first to the Wynkoop Tavern for an indulgernt lunch, then over to the Tattered Cover in McGregor Square. Dr. K picked out her birthday present – an armload of books.

Tonight we’ll attend the president’s reception of the WSSA, where one old friend, Tony Amato, will hand over the gavel of the presidency to another old friend, Bill Schaniel. Good. It’s time to wrap up a productive meeting and, tomorrow, get back to the home office on Willow Creek.

Got the South Dakota-Michigan game on, have to cheer for the ladies from Vermillion, who are leading at half. Turns out the game is here in town! Had I known that in advance, I’d be down in the arena tonight. Instead I’m at my little motel desk, one eye on the game, the other on the computer screen. I may go out for a bite to eat and a celebratory bourbon in a little while, but I have plenty of work to occupy me here, too.

The meeting of the Kansas Association of Historians wound up well today. We were well hosted by the folks at Newman, and the organization has good leadership. I made the acquaintances and connections I hoped for here, and also presented my paper on “The Stern Old Bachelor” today. Not a large audience, but an appreciative one, and I think the paper went over well. Because of its subject, I’ve met a couple of folkies here, one of them being Tom James, from here in Wichita. Finding that I research the history of folksongs, he made mention of one of his favorites, “Rivers of Texas,” with which I was unfamiliar. I said I’d see what I could find out about it.

I just did a little checking. Here’s what I have on “Rivers of Texas”: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iYs2yHji8goj08uuXOXOBafrMvIAnMG18mv_FfUPDv0/edit?usp=sharing

I like the 1956 version here. I haven’t gotten to the bottom of the song’s origins, but then, nobody else has, either. We’ll see what turns up. I like the song.

Day 3 in Wichita, doing research, getting some writing done, attending the Kansas Association of Historians, reconnecting with old friends, making some new (younger) ones, livestreaming the Willow Creek Folk School, and today, presenting research on Great Plains folksong.

Last night, returning to my palatial Best Western room from sessions of the KAH, I went live with WCFS #95. This was essentially a shakedown of the paper I will present today, a study of the prairie ballad, “The Stern Old Bachelor.” I discovered the original text and author of the ballad last year in research for the WCFS. Today’s paper presentation will be the first more formal scholarly packaging of my research on Great Plains balladry. It is the first of many to come. (The second will be next week, in Denver.)

Such a pleasure yesterday to reconnect with Virgil Dean, editor emeritus of Kansas History, and to have him formally introduce me to the current and exceedingly competent editor, Kristin Eps. As a member of her board of editors, a Kansan, and a prairie historian, I wish her all success with the journal. Also good to chat with Joyce Harrison, of University Press of Kansas. All best wishes there, too. The great delight of the day was time spent with Lynsay Flory, public historian extraordinaire and a PhD student of mine.

The final KAH session I attended yesterday was a screening of the docu-drama Home on the Range and a Q & A with its producer, Ken Spurgeon. Looking forward to release of his cincmatic work in progress, The Contested Plains.

I find myself taking a lot of notes – on history and historians – which is a good sign. OK now, off to sessions, thence back to my desk to unwind and write.

I am ensconced in a semi-seedy Best Western is west Wichita, but working well and taking pleasure in a combined research-conference-see-old-friends expedition. Flew in here yesterday morning and immediately Ubered over to Wichita State University, more specifically its Ablah Library, and therein down to Special Collections, holders of the Joan O’Bryant papers.

Joanie was a legendary folklorist and folksinger of the generation just preceding mine. Born and raised in Wichita, she returned there to get her degrees and settled into teaching English and doing folklore at Wichita University, now WSU. She died in a car crash in, I think, 1961.

Her papers are a treasure house of collected lore – including, of course, lots of folksong, both from the Ozark region (she was buds with Vance Randolph) and from Kansas. I spent 2 1/2 hours poring over folksong texts, capturing wonderful stanzas and leads. Some things were new to me – they are in the realm of lost folksong – and these were of great interest. I can take these into my digital research and, I am sure, place them into lineage and context and, in some cases, the evolving canon of Great Plains balladry. Other things were new-to-me iterations of known ballads, always welcome. A couple of hours of manuscript research gave me leads I will be following up for months – will write more about all this, but right now I have to move on to other things.

The folks at the Ablah were most kind to me. After fiinishing up there, I was met by the wonderful Andrea Mott Glessner, our PhD grad from NDSU, but a Kansas girl, who works in a research center at WSU. We lingered over coffee for a couple of hours, catching up and talking prospects. This was a great pleasure.

Before settling in for an evening’s work back at the hotel (thesis chapters on my screen), I walked over to a local legend, the Oasis, for a burger they call the Widow Maker (see my Instagram post). I’m still alive this morning, so I beat the odds.

This morning I resumed desk work, but now must Uber over to Newman University, which is hosting the annual meeting of the Kansas Association of Historians. I’m not on the program today, just attending sessions and politicking and recruiting, and I look forward to it.

Then it’s back here to convene the Willow Creek Folk School at 8pm CDT. On the agenda is a run-through of the paper I will present to the KAH tomorrow, dealing with the Kansas origins of the classic ballad, “The Stern Old Bachelor.” Drop in if you’re inclined – Facebook Live on the Facebook timeline of Plains Folk.

After that, if I have any steam left, I have writing commitments to get back into. . . .

Meanwhile, I wonder what Dr. Kelley is up to in Philly. She should check in now and then, don’t you think?

We’re getting questions from young or young-ish or urban friends and readers what “RFD” means. Perhaps the beginning of an answer is in this image.

Then see: RFD: The Changing Face of Rural America, by Wayne E. Fuller. Indiana University Press, 1964.

Prepping for travel this week, each of us in his or her own direction. Dr. K is headed to Philly for a big meeting, the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs). This will be the first time either of us has attended a large conference, in-person, since COVID19. Perhaps Dr. K will reply here with a bit more about all that. I’m bound to a much smaller meeting in Wichita, the Kansas Association of Historians. It’s been a heckuva long time since I’ve been professionally active in my native state. Most of my associates from the 1980s there are, well, retired or worse (if there is anything worse). It’s time to get acquainted with the generation taking the reins now two decades into the twentieth century. I’ll be livestreaming a foreshortened session of the Willow Creek Folk School from Kansas, essentially reprising the paper presentation I’m scheduled to make at the KAH conference – “The Stern Old Bachelor: Reigniting Research in Great Plains Folksong.” I’m hoping Dr. K will connect up with the session from Philly, but she may be too busy politicking and socializing among the literati.

We’ve been doing the weekly WCFS for almost two years now (session #95 this Friday). The enterprise has led me in an unexpected direction. At first I thought, well, this will be fun, sing some old ballads and talk about them, revisit my days as a folkie a half-century ago. Two things intervened, however. First, I have become such an inveterate research historian, I could not help going deeper, deeper into the ballads and their context, such that I was driven to countless new discoveries of old ballads. Also to development of an elaborate, self-conscious approach for research on the balladic tradition on the Great Plains of North America. Second, digital technologies energize the research on traditional ballads. Optical character recognition has made vast data dumps of folk literature accessible and searchable. This is why I now have fifty or more texts of “Little Old Sod Shanty on the Claim,” the settler’s anthem of the plains.

When our professional paths diverge, we stay in personal touch via our devices, but as for the intellectual and literary transactions to come, this blog will be the place for us to exchange intelligence.

Dr. K, out of modesty, may not post this, but I will. North Dakota State University has approved her promotion to associate professor of practice. We celebrated last night with leftovers. Things are kind of busy this week.

Later this week we make a celebratory expedition to the Arbuckle Mountains of Oklahoma for a family event. (Thus, no Willow Creek Folk School this Friday. Be back in the salon on the 18th.) Next week, home on Willow Creek, all week, for so-called spring break (known to us as catch-up week for editing and writing). After that the spring schedule gets hectic – lots of professional commitments. Which is OK – catching up with a lot of old friends. Meanwhile, waterfowl are the advance guard for the change of seasons we shall not name until it is full upon us, and at NDSU, the campus mask mandate has ended. (We still mask up situationally.) Throughout the corona crisis, NDSU has done a little better than the other state universities at keeping a lid on the virus. Current infection rates are minimal. Knocking on hickory.

We will be attending the conference of the Agricultural History Society this summer – in Stavanger, Norway, 4-6 August. Dr. K will chair a session, and I will present a paper on the impact of the Little Ice Age on the deep history of the Great Plains. The annual meeting of the AHS is always a joy; the level of scholarship is exemplary. Stavanger, well, that’s a bonus. We’ll be attentive to the importance of Stavanger to the Norwegian petroleum industry, but also soaking up some scenery. Veteran Norwegian travelers, we welcome travel tips.