In the 20th century, American archaeologists claimed to discover some of the most famous archaeological sites and objects from Central America. Yet a cursory peep into the archives reveals a more nuanced story.
Most American archaeologists were tipped off—by local Maya mahogany cutters, by major agricultural plantations, and by the hosts of Indigenous, Black, and Afro-Indigenous workers who intimately circulated the landscape in seasonal cycles of labor. The very name of the site Piedras Negras in Guatemala, for example, was given by lumber camp owner Emiliano Palma.
Many of these locals knew of, and would later work on, these archaeological sites, contributing knowledge and labor that went ignored in publications and exhibitions.
American archaeologists working in Central America in the 20th century normally contracted large crews of workers from local industries. From massive United Fruit Company plantations to independent mahogany cutters, archaeologists relied extensively on workers’ knowledge of sites, on connected roads and infrastructures, and also on excavation and logistical techniques.
Sylvanus Morely, an archaeologist focused on the Maya, even went so far as to claim that if the industry of chicle (used to make chewing gum) collapsed, then archaeological discoveries would cease. He and many others relied on the expertise of chicle harvesters to point archaeologists to sites that had not been targets of excavation. Morley even went so far as to put up fliers aimed at chicle harvesters, promising a reward in exchange for information.
A huge issue is that almost none of that crucial knowledge, or the names of those who contributed it, was ever made public. Moreover, some of the larger items that you see in the Penn Museum, such as the famous Stela 14 from Piedras Negras, Guatemala, were hauled out from site by crews of laborers who often engaged in dangerous and technically challenging work.
A number of historians and archaeologists are finally paying more attention to the way that knowledge was collected, interpreted, and displayed in museums like the Penn Museum, and by whom. Luckily, the Penn Museum’s extensive archive still contains materials like archaeological diaries, correspondence, and reports that sometimes convey the actual story of how artifacts were found on sites.
By looking at documents such as payment rosters, equipment lists, and photo albums, one can start to reconstruct how labor was organized on site, what tools people were using to excavate, and what major discoveries went unaccredited.
For the past few years, I’ve been researching archives and museum collections that reveal the real conditions, outcomes, and expertise of archaeological labor in 20th century Central America. In 2022-2023, Dr. Francisco Díaz and I followed the paper trails pertaining to the site of Piedras Negras, Guatemala, a Maya site that was excavated by the Penn Museum in the 1930s and 1940s. Our research, which we published here, reveals that archaeological work was often a co-constructive project. Many Indigenous Maya scientists braided their knowledge with American scientific standards to make interpretations about things like architecture, energetics, and the site’s association to other Maya sites in the area. They were rarely credited in publication, but with some digging their stories might be recovered.
For instance, Dr. Díaz found an extraordinary moment in which the original archaeological photograph shows the discoverer of a stucco mask, Benjamin Aguierre, who was cropped out of the photo in official publications. Seen below is the cropped image that appeared in publication, followed by the full, uncroped image.
We also show that many archaeological workers returned for multiple field seasons, sometimes more than American archaeologists, gaining site expertise for both interpreting finds and moving them from original locations. The Penn Museum relied on local Maya laborer’s expertise in mahogany cutting and logistics to engineer pulley systems, roads, and log floats to move stone monuments like Stela 14 from the site to the Penn Museum, an extremely dangerous task.
One of the most important aspects of archaeological labor is that most archaeologists relied on the work of those engaged in other industries. In addition to Piedras Negras, I’ve been studying sites that pulled labor from many different industrial pools, such as agricultural workers from the United Fruit Company. The United Fruit company was a notorious American monopoly responsible for monocrop agriculture, instigating coups in Central America to protect their land holdings, and also, oddly, participating in archaeological work.
The company invested in archaeological projects, flat out bought archaeological sites, and often provided free or reduced transportation for archaeologists, equipment and artifacts.
At the site of Quiriguá, United Fruit Company officials “lent” laborers from their plantations onto the archaeological site. Archival evidence shows that laborers were racially segregated and assigned to perform different tasks.
At the site of Sitio Conte, Panama, the amount of available labor ebbed and flowed due to construction within the Canal Zone. Labor was sourced from the plantation of Miguel Conte, the land owner for which Sitio Conte was named. Archival correspondence shows that Miguel Conte gave a list of trusted men, whom he called “peons,” from which John Alden Mason selected excavators.
Not all of their names have been recovered from the archive, but they included Eulogia Gomez, who cultivated the archaeological site for food; Jose Calzado, as watchman; and excavators Victor Ramos, Bernabel Gomez, and Alejandro Quiroz. Mason makes a note that the excavators were Black, and, among other qualities, “obedient.” But excavators did not just follow orders. At Sitio Conte, local excavators made the first archaeological discoveries of Penn’s season while setting up camp outside of the original designated archaeological zone. At Piedras Negras, local team members actively sought more just conditions, through changing the working order of the camp, negotiating higher base pay, and striking for days off. Despite the fact that they conducted most of the archaeological labor, none of their names or contributions made it into publication.
Understanding the history and inequities of archaeological labor demand that we look beyond the finished products of books, publications, and exhibits, and into the diaries, correspondence, and data of how archaeology was actually conducted on site. Through uniting objects at the Penn Museum with their archives, we can start to fill the gaps of how artifacts were taken from the ground, how they were interpreted, and by whom.
Charlotte Williams is a doctoral student in the Department of Anthropology, with a focus on cultural heritage and the history of archaeology. Her research investigates how American imperial projects ranging from the United Fruit Company to the Panama Canal used archaeology as a way to control Central American territory in the early 20th century, and seeks to show how both harvests and heritage were extracted using the same labor and infrastructural systems.
We'd love to hear from you. Share your feedback about Penn Museum Voices Blog: info@pennmuseum.org
Explore More
