September 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
During my free moments, I continue to work on my tour guide of the Bakken. I have an idea that I’ll publish in Tom Isern’s Center for Heritage Renewal Circular Series at North Dakota State or failing that at the Digital Press at the University of North Dakota.
I posted a rough version of the introduction here. Today, I’ll include the first part of the first which runs from Minot, ND to Tioga, ND and introduces the intrepid traveler to the Bakken oil patch. I apologize in advance for the roughness of this draft!
The main point of entry into the Bakken is the city of Minot (pop. approx. 41,000). Minot is the county seat of Ward county and sometimes referred to as the “Gateway to the Bakken” Minot is served by Delta airlines, has an Amtrak station, and sits astride Route 2. Route 2 serves as one of the major arteries for the oil patch. It is the northernmost east-west highway in the U.S. and follows the route of the Great Northern Railroad and it sometimes shares with railroad the term “The Highline.” The route runs from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Everett Washington and the stretch from Minot to Williston, North Dakota is among the most scenic drives in North Dakota.
Proceeding west along this route takes you through heart of both workforce housing and the productive activities of the oil boom. The transformation of this corridor is historically striking. The traffic along Route 2 picks up noticeable west of Minot, and the number of fleet pick-up trucks with corporate names stenciled on their flanks will become more common as will tractor trailers carrying equipment west into the oil patch. The border between Ward and Mountrail Counties is pocked with “prairie potholes” or small lakes amidst rolling hills.
Upon entering Mountrail County, the evidence for both the economic opportunities and social and environmental challenges of natural resource extraction becomes more and more visible among the communities in this region. These communities had only limited experience with the potential and pitfalls of dramatic growth in population as well as day-to-day industrial activity and had generally settled into quiet obscurity. They had generally experienced steady decline in population from their heights in the 1950s brought about by a combination of agricultural prosperity and an earlier oil boom which was felt especially further west in Williams County. A slightly interruption in the region’s population decrease occurred during a short oil boom in the the 1980s, but this did little to interrupt the overall pattern for the region. The first places on this itinerary to show evidence for recent transformation are the small towns of Blaisdell (unincorporated) Palermo (ca. 82 in 2013), Stanley (pop. 1,458 in 2010), and Ross (ca. 109) in Mountrail County (ca. 9,376 in 2013) in Mountrail County and Tioga (ca. 1565 in 2013) in Williams County have received the brunt of the most dramatic changes. The strange contrast between the historical lack of development, investment, or visible change and the recent boom has drawn travelers, journalists, tourists, and scholars, to the area. The bustle of the road east from Minot offers just a preview of the activity of the oil patch, and the traveler might succumb to feeling like they’re heading up the river into a Heart of Darkness.
The first distinct evidence for the economic challenges of the area comes in the area of housing which appears before any oil activity. Within 3 miles of county line modular workforce housing appears. On a low rise to the north of the Route 2 approximately 2.5 miles west of the county line, in a township called Egan (pop. 64), is a group of approximately 15 “stackable” mobile housing units. The units stand 150 m to the north of the main road and are called Egan Crest reminiscent of some affluent suburb. Each unit is based on the dimension of standard “high-cube” shipping containers (40 ft or 12.19 m long and 8 ft or 2.44 m wide) with 9.6 ft (2.86 m) tall roofs. These mobile, modular apartments have been stacked two high and feature housing for 2 workers un each 20 ft crate. In the region, they’re know as “stackables” and are seen as a welcome upgrade from life in RVs or or larger more formal workforce housing deeper in the patch. The “stackables” do not have security around them are and apparently are well-insulated and comfortable. Their isolated and scenic position surrounded by rugged farmland gives them a both serenity and vulnerability.
Some 2 mile further west and immediately to the south of Route 2 is Blaisdell RV Park. This park is the first of the informal and scrappy RV parks that make up so much workforce housing in the Bakken. The leveled area of tan gravel is situated some 100 m south of Route 2 and entered at its northeastern corner. Passing a somewhat forlorn play area, there is parking in front of a administrative building with some common area. The park itself is comprised of nearly 100 small units about half of which are small mobile homes and the other half are RVs. In 2014, two large residences carved out of semi-trailers stood at the south end of the rows introducing some of the innovative architectural approaches to life in the Bakken. The units along the west side of the park are rented like hotel rooms whereas the eastern side of the park offer lots available for rent. To the south of the park is Blaisdell Rodeo which convenes each year in early August. The town of Blaisdell is north of Route 2 and is worth a short visit to see the school house and a wood-framed prairie church.
Continuing west along Route 2, past the turn off to Palermo …
August 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
I don’t usually just post pictures (oh, wait, I guess I do), but I thought I would today as I recover from a few days of Bakken adventures.
An abandoned man camp near Tioga:
Another near Wheelock, ND:
An abandoned “dry” camp:
I know we shouldn’t call them “man camps”:
Work and flares:
Another reminder that we’re not the first newcomers on the northern plains:
August 12, 2014 § Leave a comment
I’ve spent the last couple of days revisiting some of the North Dakota Man Camp Project study sites in the Bakken Oil Patch, and like every trip into the wild west, I’ve learned more about how North Dakota communities are adapting to the Bakken Boom, and how the men and women who work in the industries related to and impacted by the oil boom are carving out a life for themselves in North Dakota.
So, as we wait for Bret Weber to finish his summer semester grades, I’ll offer a few quick observations on the changing nature of the settlement in the Bakken.
1. Settlement is changing. We’ve noticed that the number of Type 2 camps (which are RV parks with electricity and water/sewage) have disappeared. One of the most interesting sites in our research was the town of Wheelock in which a Type 2 man camp had developed in and among the few remaining houses. Over the past 18 months, the number of units in the town center declined and a small settlement of largely Hispanic workers from Utah had grown up on the outskirts of town. This summer, both the camp in the center of town and on the outskirts had been abandoned. A similar trend seems to have taken place in the town of White Earth where two of the RV parks remain full, but another, situated around the old school in town, seems to have lost about two-thirds of its residents. When I asked an avuncular tweaker in one of the remaining camps why so few units were around the school, he looks hazily at the sky and said: “winter is coming…” As new, better housing becomes available, members of the workforce formerly satisfied with living in an RV can now do better.
2. Settlements are changing. One of our favorite camps is a Type 2 camp just outside of Williston called Fox Run. This came had over 300 units in it last summer and showed a tremendous amount of architectural innovation with elaborate mudrooms, well-kept spaces around the units, built decks and platforms, and residents describing a genuine sense of community. In our visit this summer, the material conditions in the camp had clearly changed. There were fewer elaborate mudrooms (and more mudrooms in reuse), the areas around units were less well-kept, and the sense of community had palpably changed. There were far more open lots than we had seen before. It seems like the character of the facility had changed and, while I use this word guardedly, the camp seems to be in decline. We’re contemplating writing a history of Williston Fox Run and have begun to look into county and state records for the parcel. The Type 2 camps are attracting a different kind of resident as more permanent (or semi-permanent) housing is made available for workers looking to reside in the Bakken for more than a single season.
3. Settlements and Capital. In our “almost ready for publication” article we noted that man camps represented a way that industry managed the need for a contingent workforce who could move at the close to the same speed as global capital. A meeting with the development office in Watford City complicated our picture a bit by pointing out that man camps themselves are also a product of the global (or at least national) flow of capital. Camps like Williston Fox Run were built by developers and maintained by companies with investors who live far outside the region. In other words, the development extractive industries in the Bakken and the housing requirements for workforce all derive from the same pool of non-local capital and predictably respond to the needs and expectation of investors, managers, and pressures that have only practical concerns for local communities. This is unsurprising, but we had not explored this aspect of the Bakken boom in past field and research seasons.
August 11, 2014 § Leave a comment
This week, I’m headed back out to the Bakken to revisit some of our study sites and to think a bit about a fun writing project for this fall. Tom Isern, at NDSU, and Bret Weber, my co-direct at the North Dakota Man Camp Project, received a grant from the North Dakota Humanities Council to fund a series of public workshops, called the “Man Camp Dialogues” focused on our work in western North Dakota. Richard Rothaus, Bret, and I will be involved and we hope to rope in some of the other participants in our project
Tom suggested that we produce a study guide for these workshops and publish it as a Circular (no. 2) in a new series produced by his Center for Heritage Renewal. We can then make the study guide available for our talks around the state and, perhaps, for a show scheduled this winter at the Plains Art Museum that will focus on art and the oil patch. Apparently these circulars run 15-20 pages, so this is not a huge writing project, but one that will require a certain amount of thought. Right now, I’m thinking about how we can present the man camps of the Bakken as a kind of living archaeological site of our contemporary age. (I am not sure I’d want to encourage tourism of workforce housing, but the amount of through traffic on Route 2 through the heart of the oil patch makes a certain amount of curiosity only natural. Folks who live in historical homes or in historical neighborhoods have experienced this kind of tourism for over a century.)
So as I revisited many of our study sites, I began to think about how to present our research to a diverse public audience. I figure the circular would start with a basic description of our work and our study sites. We’re probably introduce our now (in)famous typology and some of the challenges associated with doing archaeology of the contemporary world.
I think then I’d like to introduce four ways of talking about workforce housing in the Bakken.
1. Stories of the Boom. One of the most interesting thing that we’ve encountered are the various ways that people have talked about the oil boom in North Dakota. The media, for example, loves to tell stories of people taking risks to make their fortune as well as folks who found only disappointment in the Bakken. The Bakken is narrated in so many different ways and workforce housing, man camps, are typically part of these stories. We could imagine directing a visitor to the Bakken or someone attending one of our workshops to consider the various ways that people have told the story of the Bakken boom and how the place where many of these new North Dakotans live contribute to these stories.
2. Objects and Arrangements. A key aspect of living in workforce housing is that “home” is often somewhere else. On a practical level, there is workforce housing provides less space for the kinds of objects that most of us associate with him. On a philosophical level, this reduced assemblages makes it more difficult for residents of the man camps to express their own identity through their objects located in and around their residences. In this context, then, it is useful to consider the objects associated with workforce housing. They typically range from objects associated with domestic life – grills, coolers, refrigerators, lawn or camping furnitures – to those associated with work. The latter category becomes all the more common when the line between the space of sleeping and eating overlaps with the space for working.
3. Architecture and Innovation. Despite the limited assemblage of material present in many of these camps, there is nevertheless innumerable examples of innovation as residents of the Bakken work to transform RVs from season and occasional vehicles to spaces for longterm habitation. Elaborate mudrooms, platforms, and barriers to block the cold and wind, expand and refine the limited space available in the standard recreational vehicles. Large camps, have a vibrant trade in recycled building material and, in some cases, additions that allow residents to customize their spaces to suit the distinct needs of year-round life in the Bakken. The growing prevalence of mobile housing and the needs of an expanding contingent and transient workforce is ushering in a new chapter in the history of vernacular architecture.
4. Images of Home. Most of the world has encountered the Bakken oil boom through the often-spectacular images published in the national media. These images show a range of experiences associated with extractive industries, but images of the workers in their domestic space are relatively rare. The national media then characterizes the Bakken primarily as a place of work with short-term habitation being a curious, but underrepresented footnote. This has the risk of dehumanizing the residents of the Bakken by making them seem an appendage to work rather than individuals who struggle to make a comfortable, secure, and balanced life just like the rest of us.
Today, we’re going to revisit a bunch more of our study sites around Watford City and Williston and I’ll post an update tomorrow.
April 3, 2014 § Leave a comment
This week has been split between three projects: I revised a paper for the Bakken Goes Boom book on the North Dakota Man Camp Project, I’ve started working on an article for a volume of Internet Archaeology on archaeology and blogging, and I wrapped up a working draft of an article on 7th and 8th century Cyprus.
I’m pretty appreciative of the noon panels organized by the University of North Dakota’s Writers’ Conference. They give me a neatly packaged escape from the persistent glow of the computer screen.
Since I’ve been pounding the good out of the keyboard lately, my post today will be short. The following paper is an evolving draft and it captures my most recent thoughts on the archaeology of workforce housing in the Bakken boom. I’m becoming more and more interested in the archaeology of Late Capitalism. I think this has grown out of conversations with Bret Weber, Sebastian Braun, and Kostis Kourelis, and with a little bit of luck, I’ll have more to say about this (and another evocative case-study to announce) next week.
For now, I have been thinking a good bit about Talal Asad’s 1992 essay “Conscripts of Western Civilization” in which he locates the possibilities available to the post-colonial subject within the discourse of modern nationalism. In other words, the modern, national discourse even shapes the strategies for resistance available to the disposed, restive, or politically marginal. Late capitalism, particularly the transnational kind manifest in the Bakken, marks a departure from Asad’s thoughts as it undermines the territoriality of the nation, the moral cohesion of modernity, and obscures the structure and movement of capital. In this context, workforce housing, particular as embodied by the postmodern “non-places” central to the organization of labor in the Bakken, presents a distinct challenge to the kind of developmental regionalism that characterized the expansion of modern, national capitalism. One can easily expand this critique to core and periphery in the Bakken and the absence of true cores and true peripheries in the world of transnational capital. To put this another way (and a way that fits with the repackaged, nationalist rhetoric that portrays work in the Bakken oil fields as a patriotic contribution to national energy independence), the workforce in the Bakken are “conscripts of post-nationalism”.
Enjoy and, as always, feedback is appreciated.
March 4, 2014 § 2 Comments
One of the advantages of riding my bike indoors (on a stationary magnetic trainer) is that I get to look around the basement a bit more closely. Since we moved into this house in 2011, we’ve been trying to sort out its architectural phases. Fortunately, the house has only seen one major addition (but the changes to the interior space of the house are substantially more complicated).
Like many homes in Grand Forks, it received an addition on the back (west) of the house probably with indoor plumbing. The original back wall of the house then became the plumbing wall with both the upstairs and downstairs bathroom (both of uncertain date) being located just to the interior of the original back wall of the house.
This photograph from around 1900 shows the addition with a drain pipe or a piece of moulding just beyond the second window on the side visible above marking the west wall of the original house.
Looking at the beams used in the new addition, I couldn’t help but notice a few loose nails. So after wiggling a few of them (and noticing that they were not in structurally sensitive places), I decided that I should remove one for closer examination. After reading around a bit on the internets, I was able to identify and date this nail with some confidence.
Here it is:
What we have here is, if I’m not mistaken, an iron, grain-in-line, face-pinched, cut nail. The crack running along the face is clearly visible as is the nicely pinched face.
The head on this nail is slightly smashed, but is square and consistent with the pinched-face. The nail type would dates easily to the 19th century with the massive crack along the face suggesting – according to Tom Wells 1998 typology – an earlier rather than later date for this type.
These are the most common nails of this period and while the cracked face makes me wonder a bit, they are nevertheless consistent with the late 19th century date for the addition to our house. As my wife sagely observed, a nail dating to a decade or two earlier than the addition may simple indicate the use of older construction materials available at hand or the relatively outdated supply available in a small, rural community in the new state of North Dakota.
While I’ll never say its fun to own an old house, these little archaeological project do make a blustery, snowy, and cold March morning more interesting.
Do let me know if you can either refine my chronology of this nail or tell me that I’m hopeless and should stick to Early Christian basilicas.
February 25, 2014 § Leave a comment
One of the more entertaining challenges that I face as I work on material from the North Dakota Man Camp Project is putting the Bakken Oil Boom in a local and regional context. As readers of this blog know, I was not trained as a historian of the American West or the Northern Plains. In fact, I’m not even able to play one (convincingly) on TV.
(To make this clear, I had an article reject at North Dakota History once, well I think is was rejected in a charmingly North Dakota way. They corresponded with me for about 5 years about this article and then just faded away without ever sending it out for peer review.)
Anyway, below is my first stab at thinking about workforce housing in the Bakken as part of the history of the American West and North Dakota. Feedback, as always, is welcome:
While traditional depictions of the American West present rugged, independent prospectors who set out to conquer the wilds in the hope of untold riches, scholars have increasingly viewed the American West as space for male wage labor and the westward movement of industrial capitalism and its attendant social expectations. In this new construction, Frederick Jackson Turner’s “frontier” (pdf) became less of an untamed wilderness for Americans to draw their dreams and more of an extension of longstanding eastern interests committed to deploying capital, workforce, and infrastructure in their search for profit. This “wage-earner” frontier, as described by Carlos Schwantes, ensures that we understand the historical development of the west as part of a larger trajectory of American and, indeed, global capital. Thus, inscribing the American West with mining camps, timber camps, and oil camps, contributed to expansion of a set of domestic values, hierarchies, and class relations nurtured in the East and then pushed out with the expansion of industry.
That the Bakken formation is geographically part of the American West (as typically defined ) and subjected to a kind of extractive economy most closely associated with historical processes taking place in the American West is a coincidence and should not necessarily impose a geographic limitation on how we understand this phenomenon. At the same time, the historical study of North Dakota has long recognized certain themes fundamental to the development of communities in the state. Elwyn Robinson famously articulated 6 themes: remoteness, dependence, radicalism, economic disadvantage, the “too-much mistake”, and the climate of a sub-humid grassland. While the application of these themes to all historical problems in the history of the state is perhaps ill-advised, the influence of these ideas on how North Dakotans imagine themselves and understand their history is important. For example, the challenges of adapting existing infrastructure to the growing workforce in the Bakken counties could easily be articulated in the context of the “too-much mistake” which described the overly-ambitious investment in infrastructure at the foundation of the state. Moreover, Robinson’s understanding of the remoteness, dependence, and economic disadvantage of the sparsely populated North Dakota prairie fit well within later understandings of periphery favored by world systems theorists and others committed to core-periphery models.
Articulating workforce housing in the Bakken as part of the American West likewise frames how we understood settlement in the area from an archaeological and architectural perspective. Historically, scholars have used archaeology to document temporary settlements associated with extractive industries and construction in the West. As William Cronon reminds us in his remarkable study of the town and mine at Kennecott, Alaska, the remains of these sites serve as physical reminders of the increasingly integrated global economy of the early 20th century which made it possible to extract copper from veins deep within the earth, transport a workforce, supplies and ore via rail, and sustain these activities at a remote location in central Alaska. Likewise workforce housing camps associated with the Bakken oil boom, particularly the Type 1 variety, represents a century old tradition realized in distinctly 21st century materials, infrastructure, and plans.
John Bickerstaff Jackson, another great 20th century student of the American West, recognized in the mobile homes of the four-corners region the direct predecessors of our Type 2 camps. He described the momentary appearance of trailer courts with their solitary cinderblock common room designated for laundry. These settlements appear across the borders of New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona often to house a pipeline or construction crew and last only as long as the project. For Jackson, these mobile homes represented part of long tradition of housing in the New World that began with the temporary wooden houses of the first European settlers on the East Coast and continued through the balloon frame homes of the 19th century to the box houses and mobile homes of the 20th century. The latter forms moved west with the surging populations and soon became a defining feature of the Western landscape. While many of Jackson’s essays do not reward too much scrutiny, he nevertheless recognized the importance of mobile housing for the requirements of wartime production, post war shifts in settlement, and the baby boom in the American West.
Just as RVs came to symbolize the leisure time pursuits of the mobile, post-war, middle class, the mobile home and RV emerged as alternate housing solutions for an increasingly mobile workforce who came to work in the American West, including the Bakken, when opportunity called. Low population density, uneven access to utilities and other infrastructure, the presence of large-scale construction projects and extractive industries, and a temporary workforce that is accustomed to mobility contributed a distinctly Western character of the Bakken.