Apalachicola Valley Archaeology, Volume 2: The Late Woodland Period through Recent History

By Nancy Marie White

Synthesizes the archaeology of the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee Valley region of northwest Florida, southeast Alabama, and southwest Georgia, from 1,300 years ago to recent times

• Language: English
• Publisher: University Alabama Press
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9780817394837

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Apalachicola Valley Archaeology

A Dan Josselyn Memorial Publication

APALACHICOLA VALLEY ARCHAEOLOGY

The Late Woodland Period through Recent History

VOLUME 2

NANCY MARIE WHITE

The University of Alabama Press

Tuscaloosa

The University of Alabama Press

Tuscaloosa, Alabama 35487–0380

uapress.ua.edu

Copyright © 2024 by the University of Alabama Press

All rights reserved.

Inquiries about reproducing material from this work should be addressed to the University of Alabama Press.

Typeface: Adobe Caslon Pro

Cover images: Above, Apalachicola cypress backswamp; below (left to right), majolica sherd, Fort Walton incised casuela bowl, and brass belt buckle; photographs by Nancy Marie White

Cover design: Michele Myatt Quinn

Cataloging-in-Publication data is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN: 978-0-8173-2181-9 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-0-8173-6131-0 (paper)

E-ISBN: 978-0-8173-9483-7

To the people of Jackson, Calhoun, Liberty, Gadsden, Gulf, and Franklin Counties, Florida; Seminole, Decatur, and Early Counties, Georgia; and Henry and Houston Counties, Alabama, whose sharing of archaeological knowledge and wonderful hospitality have made the research possible

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Abbreviations

Introduction: Archaeological Background

1. Late Woodland Period, AD 700–1000

2. Mississippi Period/Fort Walton, AD 1000–1500

3. Protohistoric: Contact, Mission, and Post-Mission Periods, 1500–1720s

4. Early Historic Period, 1720s–1860

5. Later Historic Time, 1860 to the Present

References Cited

Index

Plates

Preface

As a student, I came to the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley in 1973 and immediately became involved in significant research, rich environments, and public archaeology. Our anthropology professor, David Brose, brought us from Case Western Reserve University (CWRU) in Cleveland, Ohio, to work in a warmer place during the January study session, assisted by Florida State University (FSU) professionals and Calhoun County residents. I developed a love of the region and returned for more archaeology as a graduate student and later a professional with my own students. Over the years I have traversed lands around 300 river miles through Alabama, Georgia, and Florida, recording sites and collections and conducting excavations.

This book has taken a long time, not only because of the huge amount of data to describe and interpret, but also because it started as the second half of one gigantic tome that later needed to become a separate volume. Yet taking longer has meant that I have perhaps greater understanding of landscapes and past peoples and better results from newer methods. In addition, I have had time for more field experience in the eastern United States, Mexico, Europe, and East Malaysia, as well as extensive travels to learn of archaeology in a couple dozen countries and add more knowledge applicable to my own research. I have also been well educated by avocational archaeologists, collectors, and local residents in the region’s ten counties. My first archaeology day program in 1978 was followed nearly annually by such outreach events throughout the region, sharing community enthusiasm and knowledge.

No archaeological synthesis of the region existed, and it was often ignored for the lack of published work. Beyond a small booklet, Apalachicola Valley Archaeology (White et al. 1992, reprinted 1998), much more was needed. Thus, I present this two-volume work. Volume 1 covers the time from the first humans in the region, probably at least 15,000 years ago (Paleoindian period) through the time of the height of burial mound ceremonialism (Middle Woodland period), which ended about AD 700, and this volume covers from the Late Woodland period to the present. The drawing at the opening of this preface is an engraved hand design from around the rim of a Fort Walton/Contact-period bowl from the New Pass site (8Fr27) (see Chapter 2, this volume) that expresses my greeting and thanks to readers, with hopes that you will enjoy this book and find it useful. I am passionate about archaeology and the beauty and lushness of this natural region as well as about sharing its incredible multicultural human record.

A NOTE ON DATA

The region of concern for this book encompasses the entire valley of the Apalachicola River and the lowest 50 river miles of the Chattahoochee River. Descriptions and interpretations are supported by abundant data that are summarized in these pages but too unwieldy to present in complete detail. Readers can find all this information on the University of South Florida Digital Commons website for the Apalachicola Valley Archaeology Supporting Data. Included there are tables listing the research chronology, documented watercraft, steatite artifacts, plant and animal remains, county populations, reported human remains, Paleoindian sites and isolated finds, Early and Middle Woodland mounds, Fort Walton mounds and cemetery sites, ceramic mushrooms, protohistoric sites, Creek/Seminole sites, and radiocarbon dates, as well as a summary of my field and lab methods and an artifact sorting/classification guide.

A NOTE ON TERMINOLOGY

The prehistoric peoples discussed in this book were Native Americans whose group names we do not know. Prehistoric simply means that they lived earlier than any written records. Their historic descendants went by many names, including those given to them by outsiders, which were often inaccurate or insulting. Today, as a group, Native American peoples have been called Indians, though that word originally meant South Asians, and even America is a foreign name, from an Italian mapmaker. Indigenous or aboriginal or native are words that simply mean they were the original or first peoples of this land. Current experts disagree on which terms are most appropriate and least biased or demeaning (e.g., National Museum of the American Indian website; Canadian usage is better: First Nations). I use all of these terms. My goal is respectful reconstruction of their lifeways using the material evidence they left in the landscape, as well as the lifeways of Europeans, Africans, and others who ended up in the research region, to bring greater knowledge of the fascinating cultural heritage.

Acknowledgments

Many of the hundreds of people who have aided this research are thanked in Volume 1. Here I note some who especially assisted in reconstructing the late prehistoric and historic periods. My professor David Brose first brought us students to Florida, set the research path, and encouraged the big-picture view. Archaeologists Keith Ashley, Dennis Blanton, Kathy Deagan, Ned Jenkins, Rhonda Kimbrough, Chris Lydick, Rochelle Marrinan, Jeff Mitchem, Vicki Rolland, Craig Sheldon, Marvin Smith, and Greg Waselkov, and historian Dale Cox helped with many details over the years, and Rhonda and Rochelle reviewed chapters. Thanks to Myriam Van Walsum of Global Digital Heritage for the pot scan in Figure 2.15. Students and I recorded oral histories with residents of the research region: Joseph Clayton and his daughter Sally Clayton Jenkins; George Core; Chester and Maxine Gant; L. L. Lanier Jr., his wife Martha and son Ben; Jimmy McNeill; Grady Turnage; and others, learning from these respected elders about early twentieth-century artifacts, labor, and society.

The Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve and St. Joseph Bay State Buffer Preserve staff are always supportive. I am grateful to Sandra Chafin; Troy Deal III; Herman, Pam, and Trip Jones; Tim Nelson; Roy Ogles; Charlotte Pierce; and Dylan Shoemaker for help in Gulf and Franklin Counties; Phil and Suella McMillan in Calhoun and Liberty Counties; and Jack Wingate in southwest Georgia.

Outdoorsmen Pat Millender, Jimmy Moses, and Jeff Whitfield have been enormously crucial for the research success over decades. Jeff and archaeologist Lee Hutchinson also graciously reviewed the whole original huge book manuscript.

I appreciate too the careful work of anonymous reviewers and editor Wendi Schnaufer. Archaeologist and Muscogee Nation of Florida Traditional Chief Dan Penton is also thanked for reviewing the manuscript. USF alumna Karen Mayo did the index, and several other former archaeology students conducted research cited in these pages. The drawing above of the engraved design on a Fort Walton/Contact-period bowl from the New Pass site (8Fr27) (see Chapter 2) reflects my handshake for all these folks in gratitude for their friendship and help.

Abbreviations

Introduction

Archaeological Background

The watery network of the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee-Flint River system has connected a large part of the US Southeast from the Gulf of Mexico far into the interior of the continent for well over 14,000 years of human occupation. Lush forests, streams, bays, and Gulf have provided a bounty of natural resources to support large populations of Native Americans, and later others from Europe and Africa and their descendants. Most of the stories of these diverse peoples are unwritten and poorly known, but understood a little better from study of the archaeological record they left. Even in historic times, written documents describe politics, conflicts, and actions of a few important individuals, but archaeology examines the material evidence of everyday lives to give the bigger picture. This book presents the archaeology of the Apalachicola-lower Chattahoochee valley research region, beginning with the enigmatic prehistoric Late Woodland peoples who developed food production, then the complex Fort Walton agricultural societies emerging by AD 1000, the invasion and colonization by Old World groups, the evidence of surviving Native Americans, Spanish, British, and Africans, and the developing America, including wars, production, and commerce. (Volume 1 describes the Native American experience here from the time of the earliest human settlers through the elaborate Middle Woodland culture.)

The specific research region for this book (Figures I.1 and I.2) encompasses the entire Apalachicola River valley and lowest portions of the valleys of the Chattahoochee and Flint, whose confluence forms the Apalachicola. This region totals nearly 160 river or navigation miles long. It overlaps boundaries of three modern states and individually named waterways but is quite distinctive archaeologically and environmentally. The upper Apalachicola and lower Chattahoochee have hardwood bottomland forests, wide pasturelands dotted with fat old oaks and magnolias, tall straight pines, sinkhole ponds, and cypress domes. On the east side of the Flint River and the upper Apalachicola are steep ravines with seeping springs and rare plants and animals. The valley widens downstream into vast, dark swamps and estuarine marshes with grasses, cedars, and cabbage palms. The Apalachicola delta is some of the wildest land left in Florida, immense wet hammocks and marshlands sustaining one of the nation’s most productive fisheries. The shores of Apalachicola Bay on the mainland and barrier islands and the Gulf beaches have scrubby dune vegetation and sugar-white sand. These diverse but connected ecosystems constitute a region with notable continuity in geography and material culture. I have done archaeological research far outside these boundaries and seen clear differences in forests, elevations, and prehistoric and early historic cultural adaptations.

Image: Figure I.1. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley research region outlined within the US Southeast. (Nancy Marie White)

Figure I.1. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley research region outlined within the US Southeast. (Nancy Marie White)

Image: Figure I.2. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley research region in northwest Florida, southeast Alabama, and southwest Georgia. (Nancy Marie White)

Figure I.2. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley research region in northwest Florida, southeast Alabama, and southwest Georgia. (Nancy Marie White)

ENVIRONMENTAL BACKGROUND

The Chattahoochee River flows southward from the Blue Ridge mountains in northeast Georgia, marking the Georgia-Alabama border for 160 river miles (260 km) of its lower portion, and then the Georgia-Florida border for its lowest 25 miles (40 km). Measurement in this book is metric, by scientific convention, except for waterways, where I use navigation miles, measured up from the Gulf, because they are on maps, on signs along the rivers, and in historic documents. Most people here must have marked distances by water, the easiest way to travel until a century ago. Flowing 436 miles (702 km) to the southwesternmost corner of Georgia, the Chattahoochee joins the Flint. From this confluence or forks the Apalachicola flows 110 miles (177 km) to the Gulf. The entire river system, the eleventh largest in the United States, is nearly 540 miles (869 km) long. Navigation charts (USACOE 1978) show the Apalachicola at 107.6 miles, but modern changes have lengthened it. Columbus, Georgia, is at the Fall Line, the boundary between Piedmont and Coastal Plain, far to the north of the research region for this book. Waterway distances are given in Table I.1.

The research region considered here is the very lowest 50 river miles of the Chattahoochee valley, the lowest 28 miles of the Flint, and the entire Apalachicola, a system 160 river miles (260 km) long, 2 to 20 miles (3–50 km) wide, and 200 km in straight-line distance north–south. It includes 65 east–west km of Apalachicola Bay shore, 56 km of barrier islands, and the 24-km-long barrier peninsula at St. Joseph Bay. The northernmost extent of the region in Alabama is the basin of Omussee Creek, and in Georgia, the lower basin of Spring Creek within the forks. Although today St. Joseph Bay and Peninsula are strictly not within this drainage, in the past they were connected geographically and culturally. At the north end of the region are higher elevations, over 100 m above sea level, while the bay shores at the south end can be under a half-meter high. In fact, this valley traverses some of the highest and the lowest land in Florida. Figure I.3, a lidar image, shows higher elevations as a lighter band in the middle. It is crucial to state that the better-known archaeology of what is called the lower Chattahoochee usually refers to the area within the Walter F. George reservoir, around Columbus and the Fall Line. That is 75–100 miles upriver from the Chattahoochee’s lowest 50 river miles that are part of the research region for this book. The literature seldom notes much in this very lowest valley segment, above which there are significant differences.

Subbasins in the region require description (more detail is in Volume 1). The rolling uplands of the lower Chattahoochee valley encompass portions of Houston and Henry Counties, Alabama; Early, Seminole, and Decatur Counties, Georgia; and Jackson County, Florida. Thick with bottomland forest, they have pale sands, some dark red clayey soils, and permeable limestone bedrock containing sinkholes and chert outcrops (Hubbell et al. 1956). Manipulations of the river (Heuvelmans 1974) include construction of the Andrews Dam near the north end of the region, which had little effect on valley width, and the Jim Woodruff Dam at the forks, which created a wide reservoir now called Lake Seminole. The karst lowlands west of the lower Chattahoochee and upper Apalachicola are scarred with curves of old channels, creeks or oxbow lakes created as the river was pushed eastward by post-Pleistocene sea-level rise. The land is mostly rural, full of wildlife, farm fields, pastures, planted pine, and natural pine-open wiregrass uplands. The high number of archaeological sites recorded is unsurprising given all the open, plowed ground.

TABLE I.1. GEOGRAPHIC LOCATIONS ALONG THE APALACHICOLA–LOWER CHATTAHOOCHEE VALLEY REGION

*Variously reported as 106.3 (Brown and Smith 1994:197–198); 106.7 (US Army Corps of Engineers 1978); 110 (Helen Light, personal communication 2000); 112 (Wikipedia). For this book a standard 110 is used.

Image: Figure I.3. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee River Valley research region outlined on a lidar image (compare Figure I.2); the lighter the color the higher the elevation. (Image by Christopher N. Hunt)

Figure I.3. Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee River Valley research region outlined on a lidar image (compare Figure I.2); the lighter the color the higher the elevation. (Image by Christopher N. Hunt)

The lowest 28 river miles of the Flint River valley have clear water fed by bubbling springs and towering east-side bluffs that continue down the Apalachicola, forming a barrier stopping the river’s eastward migration. Springs seeping from these bluffs created ravines that sheltered Ice Age remnant species of plants and animals that occur nowhere else in the world. These include the Barbour’s map turtle, Florida yew, and torreya tree (Torreya taxifolia, the rarest North American tree). The Apalachicola is the largest Florida river in terms of flow (Light et al. 1998) and the only one containing snowmelt. The upper Apalachicola flows in gentle bends about 30 river miles from the forks down to just above the towns of Blountstown and Bristol, encompassing parts of Jackson, Calhoun, Gadsden, and Liberty Counties. Tributary streams run across the floodplain here, through Florida’s only natural upland glade communities, with the world’s largest population of red-cockaded woodpeckers (Nature Conservancy 2000), the highest diversity and density of amphibians and reptiles north of Mexico, and rare species of salamanders and crayfish (Means 1977). The notable biodiversity in these once vast longleaf pine forests comes from regular burning, both natural and cultural. So far, however, archaeological differences from east to west sides of the valley are not evident. The middle valley extends some 35 river miles down to the Chipola Cutoff at Mile 42. It includes parts of Calhoun, Gulf, and Liberty Counties and has the southernmost of the high east-side bluffs (Plate I). On the west side are extensive backswamps and sloughs (Plate II). The lower Apalachicola River runs through a maze of tributary and distributary channels amid low wetlands, in parts of Gulf and Franklin Counties.

The Chipola River, the Apalachicola’s largest tributary, on the west side, originates just south of the Alabama border and flows 92 miles to its mouth into the big river at Apalachicola Mile 28. The Chipola’s stunning clear blue-green waters come from its abundant tributary springs and limestone bottom. Its upper and middle valley has multiple caves (but few big enough for humans). In its lowest segment, the backup of sediment from the larger river spreads water out into Dead Lakes, connected oxbow channels 9 miles long with mirror-still water dotted with cypresses. Just downstream is the cutoff channel, a meandering 3-mile path that draws off 25% of the Apalachicola’s waters. Between this channel and the Chipola’s mouth is the Cutoff Island, an isolated 25-km stretch of forest up to 4 km wide. Unsurprisingly, the lower Apalachicola and Chipola areas have the fewest known archaeological sites in the region; most are probably buried under post-Pleistocene alluvium.

The lower valley, bay, and islands area (Figure I.4), a UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve, has incredibly productive estuaries and the largest stand of tupelo trees in the world. Apiarists bring bees out by boat to make the prized tupelo honey, leaving them for a few weeks on docks or on high ground, including prehistoric shell middens. Apalachicola Bay is one of the richest ecosystems in the northern hemisphere, known for its seafood. Its surrounding lands have thick alluvial sands and ancient spongy peat layers that often contain prehistoric cultural materials. Correlating stages of coastal development with the archaeological record has barely begun (Donoghue and White 1995). A chain of white-sand barrier formations curves around the Apalachicola’s protruding delta. St. George and Dog Islands are thin strips often cut into smaller islands by storms. St. Vincent Island is, by contrast, triangular and wide, from long-term progradation of beach ridges. Archaeological research on St. Vincent has contributed to the reconstruction of sea-level fluctuation curves, as noted in the next chapter. On the west side of the delta, St. Joseph Peninsula is a thin north–south barrier spit connected to the mainland at Cape San Blas. It encloses St. Joseph Bay, which is 8 to 13 km wide and unusually salty because it has few freshwater tributaries. This salinity means a different array of aquatic species, large gastropods, other saltwater shellfish, fish, and turtles. But other than the faunal remains, the prehistoric material culture does not change much around St. Joseph Bay from that seen elsewhere along the lower valley and coast. Historic legends have made the St. Joseph Bay and St. Vincent Sound area famous for tales of buried treasure.

Image: Figure I.4. Apalachicola lower valley delta area, bays, and barrier formations. (Nancy Marie White)

Figure I.4. Apalachicola lower valley delta area, bays, and barrier formations. (Nancy Marie White)

Waves here average the highest on the entire US Gulf Coast, and between 1856 and 2013 there were 96 major storms that periodically changed the islands’ shapes. Recent shoreline loss on Little St. George Island is estimated at between 4.3 m and 0.2 m yearly, mostly off the southeast shore, while accretion takes place on the southwest shore (Donoghue et al. 1990; Sankar 2015). On the barrier-island Gulf sides, the desert-like hot sand, lack of fresh water, and remoteness from the sheltered mainland meant that fewer peoples would go there for more than fishing excursions, or maybe spiritual/fun experiences of the sea. Only recently have a bridge, fast boats, pumped-in fresh water, and air-conditioning made the sparkling white beaches into desirable, expensive land. Beyond the barrier formations, the open Gulf is warm, relatively benign, and easily navigated, with useful currents. In all its natural wealth and colorful history, the Gulf of Mexico rivals the Old West or other great romantic lands in illuminating the quest to become American (Davis 2017). However, the frequent storms can alter landscapes radically. In the entire research region in 2018, Hurricane Michael demolished forests, including 20% of the remaining endangered torreya trees, and devastated the lives and property of most residents. It duplicated storms in the 1840s that destroyed the town of old St. Joseph (see Chapter 4, this volume).

ARCHAEOLOGICAL BACKGROUND

These environmental parameters are integrated into the human chronology of the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee region in this book. I take up where Volume 1 leaves off, with the Late Woodland period, beginning around AD 700, when Native American material culture appears less elaborate than that of the preceding Middle Woodland times, possibly because of the new demanding labor of food production. By AD 1000 intensive maize farming was supporting large villages and temple mound construction in complex Fort Walton–period societies. These chiefdoms dominated the region until they disappeared before AD 1700 due to violence and disease introduced by European invaders and colonists. Consolidated groups of surviving Native Americans moved into the region during the Spanish and British occupations, developing new identities. Relatively few historic records describe them, so we have mostly archaeology to understand the massive cultural upheavals of the sixteenth through late eighteenth centuries. The last American Indians specifically within the research region, Creeks and Seminoles, were pushed out in the American territorial period beginning in 1821, though many found ways to remain. Cotton, cattle, and timber produced by the labor of enslaved workers and transported by steamboat became important. During the Civil War, defenses were constructed and the river was deliberately obstructed, though little conflict took place here. The later 1800s and early 1900s saw expansion of agriculture, silviculture, turpentine, honey, and other industries. World War II military training centers were based around the bay. In the twenty-first century, traditional commercial activities continue amid rapid change and struggle with the aftermath of disasters such as hurricanes and droughts. The archaeological record fills out the history with the lesser-known aspects of life and events.

These different time periods explored in each chapter are summarized in Table I.2. They are artificial constructs but help keep information in chronological order and mark significant change. The synthesis in this book and in Volume 1 results from decades of compiling details of my work and that of others. As noted in the preface, supporting information for all the chapters is on the University of South Florida Digital Commons website for the Apalachicola Valley Archaeology Supporting Data.

History of Investigation

Prehistoric archaeological materials in the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley were first found by later prehistoric peoples. Occasional documents describe how early Euro-American settlers amused themselves by looting Indian mounds, as described in Volume 1. Organized archaeology came with Clarence B. Moore in the early 1900s. This wealthy adventurer traveled along rivers of the South in his specially outfitted steamboat Gopher to dig mounds, sending artifacts back to the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia. He usually worked with an African American crew from the northwest Florida town of Sopchoppy. Though his methods were rough, he kept notes and published in the Academy’s journal. Moore (1902, 1903, 1907, 1918) came often to the research region (Brose and White 1999) but was less interested in late prehistoric temple mounds, which had nothing like the wealth of older burial mounds. I studied his collections in New York and Washington, DC, where they are now at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI).

Professional archaeology in the region began during the Great Depression, with federal public works and economic relief programs. Gordon R. Willey, while excavating in the 1930s in Georgia, visited the Florida panhandle and realized its huge archaeological potential. He returned for systematic research and tied ceramic-based prehistoric time periods to sequences in Georgia and the Lower Mississippi valley in his classic Archeology of the Florida Gulf Coast (1949). Other professionals then came for projects in the Smithsonian Institution’s River Basin Surveys program, in advance of dam construction. Surveys were performed within the proposed Jim Woodruff Reservoir by Ripley Bullen (1950, 1958) for the Florida Park Service, and A. R. Kelly (1950, 1953) and Joseph Caldwell (Caldwell et al. 2014) for the University of Georgia (UGA) and the Smithsonian. Most survey was surface collection, talking with collectors and inspecting plowed fields, as shovel-testing was not done then. Salvage excavations were then conducted at selected sites by these archaeologists and also Carl Miller, Clemens DeBaillou, and others. Historic sites around the reservoir were described by Mark Boyd (1958), though historic archaeology of Euro-American and African peoples was not much in the picture yet. At the Columbia/Andrews Dam, survey and testing were done by Wesley Hurt (1947) and Harold Huscher (1959). At the Smithsonian and UGA I studied notes and correspondences of all these archaeologists. They often lamented how working for institutions in the different states made interpretive consistency difficult, and they also agreed that historian Boyd did not understand the need for field verification of documented sites, two issues that continue to be vexing. Much of their research was never written up because they were continually sent to the next field project, with no time for analysis. Then the dams were finished and the water filled these artificial lakes, drowning some sites, making islands out of others that had been on hilltops, or cutting into those on the original riverbanks.

TABLE I.2. ARCHAEOLOGICAL TIME PERIODS/CULTURES OF THE APALACHICOLA–LOWER CHATTAHOOCHEE REGION DISCUSSED IN THIS BOOK

Soon the need for resurvey became obvious as sites were washing out of reservoir shores. Archaeologists at Florida State University (FSU) met with collectors who brought artifacts to Tallahassee, though little of this was reported. By the 1970s more Tallahassee professionals worked in the region, especially Florida Bureau of Archaeological Research (BAR) staff Calvin Jones, Dan Penton, and Louis Tesar, and FSU professor George Percy and his students. Ned Jenkins (1978) surveyed on the lower Chattahoochee in Alabama. Jerald Milanich (1974) of the Florida Museum of Natural History (FLMNH) in Gainesville excavated the Sycamore site on the upper Apalachicola in the path of Interstate-10 construction. Aided by Percy, David Brose, of Case Western Reserve University (CWRU) and the Cleveland Museum of Natural History (CMNH), brought his students to Florida for fieldwork.

I came with the Cleveland group to the middle Apalachicola valley to work on the FSU and highway salvage projects. Later Brose sent me to resurvey the Lakes Andrews and Seminole shorelines for the Corps of Engineers. We also learned of a Fort Walton midden washing out of the riverbank below the forks, the Curlee site (8Ja7), exposed by the change in river flow patterns after dam construction. Collectors from the three states were taking away thousands of artifacts, so in 1975 we did salvage excavations there, which later became the subject of my doctoral research (White 1982). I also surveyed the Chattahoochee up to the Walter F. George Dam and Fort Gaines, Georgia (see Figure I.1). The research region for this book does not reach that far north, as noted, because the archaeology is different farther upriver (my survey strategies, site-formation processes, and state border issues are discussed more in Volume 1).

Material Culture

Probably 95% of past material culture is not preserved, made of wood or other perishables abundant in the vast forests of the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee region. But the rich record of objects that have survived does make for fascinating archaeology. It is detailed more in Volume 1 but summarized here. Stone, ceramic, and shell artifacts abound at Native American sites. Local chert includes that formed in limestone outcrops and also agatized coral (Plate III). On coasts, foreign rocks are ballast stones dumped by nineteenth-century sailing ships to make room for cargo (Barnes 1987:90). Soils are pale sands with some reddish sandy clays. Massive soil erosion began in the nineteenth century with deforestation and commercial agriculture. British geologist Charles Lyell, touring the South in 1841, saw that residents of south Georgia recognized how the river ran clean during flood season until Native Americans were driven out and land was cleared on a larger scale, making floodwaters red with mud (Montgomery 2007:132–133). Variable, colorful mound-building soils in Fort Walton times (Plates IV–VI) meant that travelers would see a stunning red or yellow mound looming within the green forest. Though evidence for prehistoric houses or other structures in the region is rare, middens and other archaeological features are abundant, usually dark stains in paler sand representing hearths, refuse pits, or postmolds (Plate VII). Clay for native pottery-making (Plate VIII) was easily available from late prehistoric through colonial times.

The earliest Protohistoric-period and historic sites have metal objects, glazed and native unglazed pottery, and other introduced items (Plates IX–XV). Historic ceramics at a few Contact-period and colonial sites are Spanish olive jar sherds and a small amount of majolica, especially at the 1701–1720 Fort San José on St. Joseph Peninsula (see Chapter 3). Early Creek/Seminole sites have native Chattahoochee Brushed sherds and European and Euro-American earthenwares. Later historic sites show an array of imports; at the lost antebellum town of old St. Joseph were British refined ceramics (Plate XVI) and fancy wine bottles (see Chapter 4).

Natural resources used by past inhabitants are investigated using both archaeologically recovered remains and ethnographic and historic sources. A wide array of wild plants had been gathered for millennia before domesticated maize began to be cultivated near the end of Late Woodland times. Besides foods, useful plants included utilitarian species such as river cane to make a multitude of artifacts. Tobacco and yaupon holly for black drink tea provided the only drugs, nicotine and caffeine, before Europeans introduced alcohol. The vast forests yielded wood for artifacts large and small. Though watercraft were undoubtedly part of daily life, probably because of preservation issues only one prehistoric canoe has been recovered (see Chapter 1), from just outside the region. The rest of the archaeologically known watercraft are historic, including wooden boats (see Chapters 4 and 5). Some of these were discovered during dredging or deadheading, commercial raising of sunken logs. Most wrecked vessels are steamboats (Plate XVII); others were work boats and cargo ships on the coast. All these vessels show the extensive socioeconomic connections along streams and across continents and seas. Only railroads, and later automobiles and highways, shifted human settlement away from waterways.

Animals essential for both prehistoric and historic use were dominated by deer, but also smaller species. Aquatic creatures are probably underemphasized in archaeological interpretations (Walker 2000), as their remains are fewer though settlement inland was usually on waterways. Shellfish from fresh, brackish, and saltwater habitats seem to have been slightly less important in later prehistoric times than earlier and were often ignored in colonial times, as were other wetland resources. Swamps and marshes full of nutrients from decaying forest vegetation provide nurseries for seafood and themselves contain myriad useful species. But historically the typical view of these wetlands has been negative, including visions of vile creatures, foul water, bloodsucking bugs, steaming heat, disease, misery, or danger. In the South there is a dark romanticism about swamps, ambiguous land types that mix water and earth (Wilson 2006). Indigenous peoples, however, must have considered warm wetlands among the most beautiful and bountiful places on earth, full of food and easily traversed. Historically, people who managed to escape slavery also found both shelter and freedom in remote wetlands. Other natural resources of interest are plants and animals introduced by Europeans and Africans, which altered landscapes considerably and affected native species.

AIMS AND APPROACHES

Frameworks and Methods

This volume synthesizes the late prehistoric and historic archaeological record of the research region. I emphasize science but include some humanistic imagination toward reconstructing past lifeways. The first objective is archaeological description, with patterns and anomalies interpreted in the context of the greater Southeast, combined with explorations of cultural processes. Assembling all these details over the years has made trends, gaps, and other characteristics of the record jump out and demand explanation. The layout of this volume is traditional, describing environments, resources, and materials chronologically. But instead of just listing material evidence by time period, I try to visualize some of what past human life would have been like. The drawing at the start of this introduction is a ceramic human face broken from a probable Fort Walton pot, at least 1,000 years old, found on St. George Island, that may be a representation of someone special.

Science means the constant testing of models to see if they still fit. Should my conclusions later be discarded because of new evidence or my mistakes, I welcome the scrutiny and correction. As with most archaeology, my interpretations are framed by technological, environmental, and other material constraints and conditions, for which archaeologists get direct data. Past subsistence methods and economies are easier to infer, while social organization and beliefs are more obscure. Some postprocessual or postmodern archaeology advocates understanding the minds of past peoples, but we are in shaky territory with fantasy ungrounded in solid evidence. However, a useful aspect of postprocessual archaeology is critical theory, exposing prejudices in archaeology that reflect the views of those doing it (White 2008, 2014). It is especially important in historic archaeology to realize the biases of history and support conclusions with empirical data. Good science is necessary for daily life and even democracy to function well (Staedter 2017). The past peoples of the region are gone, so I try to tell their stories as well and respectfully as possible, giving voice to those seldom documented in the archives and accounts: Native Americans, African Americans, other minorities, women, children, anyone doing regular daily activities. Describing the elements of ordinary lives, democratizing the past (Praetzellis 2015:10), is a major goal for archaeology.

My field and lab methods are standard and have been consistent for quality control. Photos of artifacts in this book are given with USF or other catalog numbers for ease of further research. Another goal is applied anthropology, the aim to present data and reconstructions that may be useful for other scientists, land managers, and anyone interested in the past and in change over the long term. The database for the region began with the first GIS analyses of settlement patterns by time period and geography (Schieffer 2013; Simpson 1996). Lab work continues as we still strive to get the hundreds of thousands of materials inventoried and curated properly. Artifact classification is done using standard typologies: Projectile point guides are those for Alabama (Cambron and Hulse 1964; Johnson 2017), Florida (Bullen 1975), and Georgia (Whatley 2002). Ceramic typologies are those by Willey (1949; also Williams and Thompson 1999), with a few additional types in other sources as noted in the chapters. The type definitions are clarified in an online sorting guide I developed over decades.

As a lumper, not a splitter, I believe the ceramic type-variety system used elsewhere in the South divides ambiguous types into even more confusing classifications with overlapping attributes. Future work on isolating varieties must involve elemental study of pastes, residue analysis, use-wear studies, and examination of design and morphology. For most ceramics that do not clearly fall into recognizable types, generic names are used to avoid more confusion. Sand, grit (crushed quartzite), grog (crushed clay particles), and a small amount of limestone were used as tempers in late prehistoric times in the region, with a tiny amount of crushed shell temper possibly indicating a foreign presence during the Fort Walton and Protohistoric periods. Quantifying proportions of tempers in assemblages of different ages still needs to be done here. But portable X-ray fluorescence (pXRF) work has shown trace elements in the clay suggesting that most late prehistoric pottery was made locally (Tykot et al. 2013). My radiocarbon dates are only on charcoal or bone, though others have dated shell. Processing materials and information in the lab takes 10 to 100 times the amount of time as did the fieldwork and is rarely completed. Collections management requires constant labor and is often neglected. The memorable last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the precious ark was boxed and stuck up on a museum shelf, is a real indictment of archaeology. I hope to get the USF collections properly stored and in accessible databases before I myself become part of the archaeological record.

Public Archaeology and Ethics

Public engagement and collaboration have been crucial to the research. Residents of the research region are astoundingly enthusiastic about archaeology, share artifacts and sites, and explain how landscapes have changed over time. During fieldwork we have also recorded several oral histories from older citizens, as detailed in these chapters; transcribed interviews are on file in the USF archaeology lab. The historical and archaeological richness of the region and its rural nature and emphasis on the outdoors mean that there are innumerable avocationals and collectors. Citizen scientists are knowledgeable laypersons who contribute to professional research in any field, whether astronomy, biology, or archaeology. Looters and unethical collectors do dig illegally on public lands and on private property without permission and destroy sites to grab artifacts to sell for profit. Wealthy out-of-towners buy up collections just to have stuff to show off. These looters and commercial interests do not realize—or care—that they are trashing the cultural heritage of the land, or that if the context of an object is not recorded, its scientific value is lost. Professional archaeological ethics forbid buying or selling artifacts or evaluating them for pricing; this would be just as unethical as a physician buying or selling kidneys or livers. I do not work with looters, but sometimes there is an extremely fine line between ethical collecting and looting. Each case must be understood from the perspectives of all stakeholders. I have spent endless hours explaining the tragedy of damaging the cultural heritage and how, unlike natural resources such as endangered species, cultural resources are nonrenewable; what is destroyed is gone forever.

Most people living within the Apalachicola–lower Chattahoochee valley who collect do so ethically and are truly interested in the human past. They keep their artifacts for family and friends to enjoy and learn from, share information with professionals, and often end up donating their materials. I have been honored to know principled, accommodating, and hospitable citizens who help the work and have the same passion for the past that keeps me going. It is unethical not to use the data they willingly share, since without this huge body of knowledge, archaeology would never have made the strides it has (Pitblado 2014; Pitblado et al. 2022; Pitblado and Shott 2015). My public programs have brought many collaborations. The most cherished honor I ever received is the Ripley P. Bullen Award from the Florida Anthropological Society in 2001, in recognition of my work with avocationals. Most people in the region are or know collectors. Others are interested in family roots or the Euro-American transformation of the land. Community identity and heritage preservation are important