REDISCOVERING THE EAST ST. LOUIS MOUNDS

REDISCOVERING REDISCOVERING THE THE EAST ST. LOUIS EAST ST. LOUIS MOUNDS MOUNDS

Robin Machiran cleans a profile wall of a recently located mound in East St. Louis.

In 1811,Henry Brackenridge took a ferry across the Mississippi River from St.Louis.He’d heard stories about strange ruins in the Southern Illinois countryside—remains of a long-vanished civilization.Some fancied them the work of ancient Phoenicians,or one of the lost tribes of Israel. Others dismissed them as natural phenomena. Brackenridge was anxious to see for himself.

He came upon a group of mounds. From atop the largest,which he estimated was about 50 feet tall,Brackenridge counted another 45 to 50 mounds nearby.This was the remains of a prehistoric suburb that would later be known as the East St.Louis Mounds Group.It had sprung up centuries before in the shadow of a place called Cahokia, whose ruins awaited him a few miles down the trail.

At its height around A.D.1100,up to 15,000 people resided at Cahokia.The Mississippian people who settled there reshaped the natural landscape to reflect their vision of the cosmos.They fashioned scores of earthen mounds.They filled and leveled a series of grand ceremonial plazas.And they crafted a monumental astronomical calendar that resembled a ring of bare,branchless trees.

More than that, they gave birth to a culture—a way of explaining the world and their place in it,which spread throughout the American Southeast and lasted centuries longer than their city. By A.D. 1350,they disappeared, leaving behind an abundance of clues and myriad mysteries.Brackenridge was almost certainly the last interested observer to see Cahokia and the East St.Louis mound group in a virtually undisturbed condition.Every exploration since has been salvage archaeology. Decades after Brackenridge published an account of his visit,the first of what would be many waves of European immigrants began farming the fertile Mississippi River floodplain across from St.Louis.They broke open the prairie with their plows, flattening some smaller mounds and scattering artifacts on or near the surface.

The mounds of East St. Louis, on the other hand, fell victim to urban development.The packed earth from which they had been built was used for fill when the railroad came through,or it was hauled away to build a levee that would protect the city from seasonal inundation by the Mississippi River.

The East St.Louis mounds may have contained important answers to the most intriguing Mississippian mysteries.Why, after investing three centuries of labor in Cahokia, was this great settlement abandoned? What became of the people who built it? But if those answers had once been buried here, everyone knew they had long since been destroyed.

Or so it seemed.

POVERTY AND PRESERVATION

Each year, nearly 400,000 visitors make their way to the Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site in Collinsville,Illinois,eight miles east of St.Louis.But there are no tourists in nearby East St.Louis—at least none with an interest in Mississippian culture.Here,in one of America’s poorest cities,streetwalkers strut down St.Clair Avenue,trying to make eye contact with the handful of motorists who slowly cruise past.Nearby, burned-out shells of houses mark what once was a thriving working-class neighborhood.Now, prairie weeds reclaim abandoned

This small Mississippian house located along Interstate 55/70 was excavated by archaeologists with Southern Illinois University.

A Washington University student sets up a transit to map an excavated area in a commercial district.

lots. Hulks of old cars—some perched on blocks, others on flat tires—rust beside the curbs where they gave up the ghost.

If the tranquil field at Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site may look an unlikely spot for an archaeological dig, these empty East St.Louis lots seem even more so.But here,archaeologist John Kelly discovered something that, until a few years ago, every expert was certain no longer existed:remnants of the East St.Louis mound group.Most of the evidence lies a few feet underground.But almost unbelievably, a few modest mounds have survived—most no more than a few feet high.Some were probably once crowned by Mississippian structures.

That these mounds,and the artifacts they contain, remain largely undisturbed is a byproduct of the city’s notorious poverty. East St.Louis was never exactly prosperous. But after a brief boom during World War II,hard times came to stay.The population peaked at about 82,000 in 1945,and it’s now a little over 31,000. Fewer than half earn annual incomes as high as the $25,000 in annual tuition paid by students at Washington University in St. Louis, where Kelly teaches. East St. Louis’s national reputation for poor government was cemented in 1985 when, unable to pay an outstanding court judgment,it lost title to its own City Hall.

The city’s poverty, and the availability of cheap land on bluffs to the east,meant the original housing stock was rarely replaced. Fragile remains lying a few feet underground were sealed in place by the 19th-century buildings over them,or the debris left behind when those homes burned down.

Assisted by students from his school and from the University of Missouri–St.Louis, Kelly spent last summer digging in two empty lots on 7th Street,just around the corner from a 24-hour “health spa”and a stone’s throw from an interstate highway.The objects of their attention were a pair of diminutive mounds so slight as to be invisible to the untrained eye.Yet they contained a trove of artifacts as ancient as shards of exquisite Mississippian pottery and as modern as a discarded derringer.

“This dark soil here is the profile of the mound,”Kelly explained,pointing to a sloping line that was clearly visible along the edge of a deep trench.“That dirt was brought in from elsewhere.You can see how much darker it is than this soil, which is what would naturally be found here.The color appears to have been symbolically impor-

Collinsville Avenue in the gritty East St. Louis business district. A proposed historic trail leading from Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site to the East St. Louis Mounds Group would run parallel to Collinsville.

This illustration about the Cahokians appeared in a 1917 St. Louis newspaper. It’s not known whether the Cahokians used fires to communicate with other settlements.

tant to them.On a number of mounds, they alternated layers of light and dark soil.”

Every few minutes a Metro train rumbled past and Kelly had to yell to be heard over it.The dig is adjacent to a Bistate Transit Authority track,part of the light rail system that links St.Louis with its Illinois suburbs.The passing trains are among the inconveniences that await diggers. More than once,the archaeology was interrupted by people asking for money because,they claimed, their cars had broken down along the interstate.“It’s a scam,” Kelly dryly noted. Fortunately, by East St. Louis’s standards, this neighborhood is relatively safe. Kelly’s single-minded focus is legendary.Three years ago,he gave a pair of reporters a tour of Mississippian sites in East St.Louis.It included a drive down a bumpy dirt road along a railroad right-of-way. His car emerged into the parking lot of a bar, where a group of men were engaged in what appeared to be a drug deal.As his passengers exchanged apprehensive glances, Kelly continued his lecture without pause. It’s no surprise,then, that he continues work in a city many outsiders have long since given up on.Others saw only burned out homes and junked cars; Kelly saw priceless clues to Mississippian culture lying just beneath the surface.These days, he sees another opportunity.Kelly envisions a tourist trail that would retrace the route the Mississippians were believed to have traversed between Cahokia and its western suburbs.Given how many people visit Cahokia, Kelly believes the prehistoric sites of East St.Louis could also attract tourists. It’s a dream Kelly has nourished for years. Recently, it has begun attracting support from some unlikely allies.The tourist trail remains what can charitably be described as an extreme long shot;but so,it once seemed,was the likelihood of discovering these mounds.

FINDING, AND SAVING, THE MOUNDS

John Kelly’s epiphany took place behind a discount furniture store during the summer of 1988.Three more years would pass before he could be certain it wasn’t a fluke. Kelly was doing an archaeological survey along the path of a highway expansion in East St.Louis.Working with a backhoe, his team scraped away the roadside surface to reveal dark,tightly compacted soil.It appeared to be the base of a mound.The discovery was,to say the least,unexpected.“In an urban environment like this,the automatic assumption is that there’s nothing left,” he said.

In 1991,he had another opportunity to work alongside the highway. Buried beneath the surface—below his-

This 1869 daguerreotype is titled "Destruction of the Big Mound." The Big Mound was destroyed for railroad fill. It was part of a series of mound groups that connected Cahokia and its satellites.

John Kelly (right) is practiced at dealing with the challenges of urban archaeology.

toric fill that included cinders spewed by 19th-century locomotives—he found postholes, wall trenches from a curvilinear building,and borrow pits. Now, he was sure. The mounds that Henry Brackenridge first encountered 190 years before had disappeared from the East St.Louis landscape.But their telltale footprints and other valuable evidence of Mississippian life were lying underfoot.

During the intervening decade,other archaeologists have built on Kelly’s discoveries.Working under contract with the Illinois Department of Transportation,they documented mounds and structures alongside the spot where Interstates 55,64,and 70 join to cross the Mississippi River. Meanwhile, Kelly combed the city’s neighborhoods looking for small mounds that may have survived unscathed.It is difficult,often uncertain work.“You look for little high spots that don’t seem to be part of the natural terrain,” he explained one afternoon, rolling slowly through a working-class neighborhood in his well-worn Jeep.“You can’t really tell for sure until you dig.”

But digging isn’t always an option. Given that the suggestion of a mound might be found most anywhere—on city property, on a vacant lot,on someone’s front yard— Kelly has to consult with the respective landowners before conducting an investigation.“One of our things is the public relations part of it:getting people to understand what we’re trying to do,” he said. To date, most of the landowners he’s dealt with have been accommodating, though some more so than others.If Kelly sees an indication of a mound he’ll map it,ask permission from the owner to take a core sample and,if he thinks it’s warranted, to excavate. Some landowners, for various reasons, consent to some of these procedures,while others agree to all of them.“It’s a very complex situation,”Kelly observed,“because you have to balance various interests.”

Last year, he was able to purchase the vacant lots on 7th Street. Indirectly, at least,he has The Archaeological Conservancy to thank for it.In 2001,the Conservancy purchased part of a cornfield that lies a short distance outside Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site,adjacent to the old Powell property. It looks exactly like countless other corn fields in southern Illinois.But beginning in 1998,this field has yielded a most unusual crop.Students led by Kelly have found the remains of ancient micro-drills used by Mississippian craftsmen to turn seashells from the Gulf of Mexico into elaborate jewelry.

This ceramic jar was recovered from the Joshway Mound. The mound, part of which is underneath an abandoned building, is named after the owner of the property it was found on.

These shell beads were recovered from the Cemetery Mound in 1870. The mound, which was destroyed for fill, is so named because Native American and European burials were found there. Washington University researchers excavated this borrow pit that extends beneath the basement of a razed building.

Worried that the field might be developed, the Powell Archaeological Research Center—a nonprofit group Kelly helped found—purchased it. With proceeds of its sale to the Conservancy,Kelly’s group was able to buy the lots in East St.Louis.

Standing near a trench on one of those lots late last summer,Kelly could see a pall of smoke in the distance. An unwelcome reminder of the city’s enduring problems, it rose from a stolen car burning furiously a few blocks away. Not far from the burning car were signs of East St. Louis’s stubborn optimism—the hopes for revival that spring up like prairie weeds in its vacant lots. On one corner, there is a modern elementary school named for jazz trumpeter Miles Davis,who grew up here.Nearby is a Ukrainian Orthodox Church built by an earlier generation of immigrants but still in use.Around another corner, in a neighborhood of neatly restored Victorian homes,is the office of Kathy Andria,president of the American Bottom Conservancy.

East St.Louis seems an unlikely place to find an environmentalist,but Andria has been working here for years. Like Kelly, she believes that a historical trail could play a big role in revitalizing the city. “It would also highlight other historic points in East St. Louis,”Andria said,“such as the Eads Bridge,” the first major railroad bridge over the Mississippi River, and a museum established by renowned dancer Katharine Dunham.

Although the city is financially strapped,it could contribute to the construction of the trail with funds from economic development programs such as Community Development Block Grants. Earlier this year, the East St. Louis City Council passed a resolution endorsing the preservation effort, which could make the trail eligible for federal grants.“We’ve been able to develop partnerships with local neighborhood organizations,several of which are working on neighborhood revitalization plans that include new housing development, so the idea is winning support for both economic and educational reasons,”Andria said.

As she spoke, Kelly sat nearby listening intently.This idea of his is facing pretty steep odds.But as an archaeologist,he takes a long view. If there’s one thing he’s learned with time, it’s that every once in a while the long shot wins.

JOHN G. CARLTON is an editorial writer for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. He cowrote “Of Mounds and Mysteries,” an article about Cahokia that appeared in the Winter 2000-01 issue of American Archaeology.