Based on stylistic comparisons such as striations inside body contours and the presentation of horns in twisted perspective, several Paleolithic art experts, including the first curator of the Chauvet Cave, Jean Clottes, have accredited the Portuguese friezes to the early Solutrean of about 20,000 years ago3. In Portugal, the government did the opposite a€“ plunging ahead with a project destined to destroy the nationa€™s oldest cultural heritage by completing a 300-million-dollar dam whose reservoir will flood a valley packed with dozens of art sites spread over at least 17 kilometers. Yet construction continues - even on holidays - and the water is about to rise another hundred meters.
A male ibex with his head shown in two positions, as if he were turning to watch the female behind him. As we drove up to a sentry box perched on the lip of a road into the vast, unnatural gashing of mountains at Foz CA?a, it was hard to tell if the young guard blocking us in a crisp red and gray uniform represented a well-heeled security service or an elite military unit - but it was plain that bluff and sweet talk wouldn't get us far. The next time the car eased over the knuckles of a road crisscrossed by up-ended strata, past empty huts built just of stacked slabs, and jostled between overhanging and plunging cliffs until an avalanche of tailings from an old quarry almost blocked the path. Here was one of the places of grandeur where our ancestors had first grasped visions and then concretized them by hewing - and sometimes painting - images into rock panels.
As I pushed forward and the river grew shallower, turtles became so numerous that their stacks toppled like circus acts from the brinks of submerged cliffs.
As a draftsman, I could feel empathy for the beast flowing into the hands that had etched her. This first frieze stood at a fitting point, practically where the reservoir yielded to the original rapids and long pools of the virgin river. Far away across the moonscape of rutted ramps, knots of men stood before tunnels as fleets of dump trucks, made so tiny by distance that they only gave away their magnitude by over-sized wheels, eased to the brink of platforms, and added avalanches to tailings.
Above us, the titanium-white cleanliness of the cement plant's towers stood in bold contrast to the devastation, like a phalanx of gigantic chess-rooks bunched for the kill.
According to press articles, the dam-builders had recognized him as the true discoverer of Portugal's first reported Paleolithic engravings, at nearby Mazouco, even though the doctoral student's mentor, Professor Vitor Oliviera Jorge, had stolen his thunder.7 They had given Rebanda a job as their obligatory salvage archaeologist when the new doctor somehow couldn't get a position on a faculty.
In return, all he'd had to do was wait till their concrete curtain had gone up and its reservoir had risen into a sea so voluminous and costly that its drainage would have been unthinkable. My goateed interlocutor smirked as he told me I could try looking for the doctor at the complex built for the previous dam, 15A kilometers downstream. But I'd hit pay dirt: the fact that I might hear Rebanda's mea culpa was more than Ia€™d hoped for. Sebastian elected to wait outside and embarked on Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth as I knocked at the locked door. Still, I complimented her on her English, sympathized with them for having to put up with this hierarchical bother, and kept spinning innocuous questions, while she kept waiting for me to go. When Rebanda's secretary came out again, to see if she could get either me a€“ or her boss - to give up as the wait grew embarrassingly long, I asked her what the round silos with tipped roofs on the hills had been used for. But the next time, after they had gotten used to my rounds, I stepped inside and admired a sequence of two eight-foot-tall maps full of pins. Something was wrong: in addition to the constellations of pins extending for 17 kilometers upstream from the construction site, there were dozens downstream, along the reservoir behind the dam just outside!
Finally, so many hours had passed, and she'd informed the doctor so many times that I was still hanging around, that I was forced by the sheer need for new scenery to vary my route, and drifted through empty rooms.
The only thing the reports agreed on was that Rebanda had somehow discovered the flooded portion of Canada do Inferno by the previous autumn22 a€“ asking the EDP to lower the Pocinho reservoir by just 3 meters in November 1994 so he could study the engravings.23 a€?They told me it was too expensive,a€? Rebanda had told the New York Times. So who had shot these photographs, which looked like they had been taken when the sites were dry vegetated hillsides instead of among the muck and bare banks below a fallen waterline?
I realized that the photos of the dry sites might have been taken before the Pocinho Dam, which had flooded them, had even been completed a€“ over 12 years before!
UNESCO had suggested Clottes, who, in an uncanny convergence of good and bad karma, was taken on a whirlwind tour of the tip of the iceberg at Canada do Inferno, then immediately whisked to a press conference in Vila Nova do Foz CA?a on Dec 16th, 199428 a€“ just two days before the discovery of the Chauvet Cave that catapulted him, as its first interpreter and protector, from the summit of the French archaeological establishment to world fame.
But Clottesa€™ judgement was mixed, confirming that the art could be dated on stylistic grounds to the early Solutrean or even late Gravettian of twenty to twenty-four thousand years ago while suggesting that flooding the valley might be the best way of protecting it, since Portugal was ill-equipped to protect such widely dispersed panels from vandals!29 a€?There is no easy solution,a€? he told a reporter.
What the press forgot to emphasize with quite as much fervor was the fact that Clottes had prefaced his Solomonic verdict by saying, a€?Whatever happens, the engravings must be preserved and not be damaged.a€? Clottes might have felt that he could safely pass the buck because no art conservationist could honestly guarantee the engravingsa€™ fate once they were subjected to currents carrying abrasives, burial under the petrifying alluvia that accumulates behind dams,33 and the worlda€™s most destructive solvent a€“ water, which would dissolve pigments and destabilize rock that had proven its resistance to aerial conditions over tens of millennia.
While chatting up the gaunt fellow traveller at the construction site, Ia€™d pretended to make small talk by asking engineering questions, including one about the depth of the sediment that had accumulated behind the Pocinho dam. The irony of it was that Clottesa€™ efforts to be honest without irritating his hosts had been the spark that the French diplomats had dreaded.
Despite the fact that the great prehistoriana€™s reputation would remain largely intact, and with good reason, in much of the rest of the world,34 the Portuguese intelligentsia began to shun him. A€ propos of CA?a, two Portuguese rock art researchers, who couldna€™t stomach Clottes after his press conference, ironically echoed him by telling me, confidentially, that flooding the engravings could still be a blessing since it would save them from graffiti and those boogeymen of archaeologistsa€™ dreams, prowling collectors. My guess is that he was so beleaguered by advisers that he was just trying to get out of an awkward situation as quickly, judiciously and diplomatically as possible.
I mentioned to Rebanda that I had just attended the lecture on Chauvet, that I even had a videotape of it right there in my camera. So it's true, I thought, drowning the site was Rebanda's solution to the problem of ownership of photographic rights. But then, what about Rebanda's self-serving talk of photo credits, not to mention the engravings already submerged by the dam at the doorstep a€“ and his belief that the engravings were doomed to be flooded? Strangely enough, I could again see it being both ways, since the roots of tragedy are self-deception and entwined motives. He must have realized that I was rooting for him to pull himself out of his tailspin, because suddenly he decided. Upon leaving, Sebastian asked to check out the Pocinho dam, so I drove round an interchange into an empty parking lot with planters. As the sun slanted over the plateau into the wilderness of the CA?a valley, I decided to sneak into a side-valley to the north of our campsite that Rebanda's map had cluttered with pins. Then, after breaching a wall of rushes, we broke to the reservoir's edge - and were met by a horned skull stuck on a stake.
Suddenly, I remembered what Rebanda had said about the engravings' association with witchcraft.
Being obstinate (or perhaps because of the prehistoric setting), I started whittling stone, knapping a microlithic surgeon's kit, and then bent single-mindedly to my task - failing till I was disgusted with myself and worried for my victim (which I had bizarrely associated with Rebanda).
This time there were two guards behind an overhanging military fence crested by barbed wire. The guard who beckoned us in was rearing a guard-dog puppy, which scampered around, tumbling over ledges and using its chin to lever itself over steps. Our guide was a decent young man who couldn't help feeling uneasy blocking access to these bold masterpieces at the source of all our arts. Still, these guards were actually tame as the locals poured down to catch a glimpse of the animals through the fence.
After he'd hastened to take up his time-clock again, I wandered if there might not be even more testimonials of man's attraction to this classical Eden with its islets and fords in the flowery river, and browsed through a plowed orchard, along a contour which I judged would have been the valley floor half a million years ago.
We knew the next dawn would be our last, so we broke camp in blue light to explore the teeming side-valley beyond the first auroch. Not Portugal's - OURS - because this art is so old, despite its elegance, that we share the blood and genius of those distant ancestors who awoke to the universe, whether our cavalcade of ancestors migrated around the Old World or came across the Bering Straits 14,000 years ago. Footnotes have been added to the internet version of the article to provide historical perspective and more detail about sources than the versions that were published & distributed in 1995.
1 The three discoverers of the Chauvet Cave were Eliette Brunel Deschamps, Christian Hillaire, and Jean-Marie Chauvet. 2 The IPPAR announced the existence of the valleya€™s engravings on November 19, 1994 but a video was made of them in 1993.
10 Bahn 1995 for a re-capitulation of the same accusations against the IPPAR & Rebanda.
33 Bednarik & Jaffe have been the most outspoken spokesmen about delusions concerning the protective qualities of reservoirs a€“ which not only inundate art panels with water but deep alluvial deposits that make their later recovery dangerous and impractical. 34 Interestingly, a few years after this appeal was written, Clottes came under fierce attack and even ridicule by many representatives of the French intelligentsia, including some of the countrya€™s most prominent prehistorians, after he and David Lewis-Williams published a€?The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and magic in the painted cavesa€? in 1996. As soon as their results indicating that the art might be only 3,000 to 6,500 years old (if not even younger) were announced a€“ which actually made the engravings even more astonishing, potentially rewriting the history of rock art or even making Portugal the last bastion of the Paleolithic tradition a€“ the most important Portuguese right-wing weekly screamed that the direct-dating results proved that stylistic daters like Clottes had perpetrated a a€?FRAUDa€? (O Independente, 7 July 1995). It should also be noted that the individuals who participated in the debate were often somewhat unwittingly drawn into playing secondary or tertiary roles in a struggle between the Portuguese Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Industry. 40 In November 1995 - six months after this call-toa€“arms was published and circulated to Prehistoric Art Emergencya€™s volunteers (who Ia€™m glad to report included a young actor, Yann Montelle, who went on to earn a doctorate in prehistory) - a book edited by Jorge called a€?Dossier CA?aa€? appeared with 20 contributions by him or his wife.
44 After writing this article in May 1995, it occurred to me that I might have missed one of the main reasons for eliminating Rebanda from Portugala€™s archaeological milieu a€“ the fact that he was so effective at finding rock art that drew international attention, first to Mazouco, then to CA?a. 49 When I wrote the article, I assumed that the two young men were Rebandaa€™s subordinates and referred to them as a€?draftsmena€?. 50 After initially denigrating both the art and the idea of extracting it, the EDP later adopted the idea as one of its three strategies for overcoming opposition to the dam project. Weetamoo was first married to Alexander (Massasoita€™s son) from 1653 until his death in 1662.
Another book, Massasoit of the Wampanoags by Alvin Weeks (available in the Los Angeles City Library, but which I have not been able to obtain) says that Weetamoo had two additional husbands, or a total of five.
If Weecum were Weetamoo's daughter by Alexander she would have been between 13 and 22 years old, certainly of marriageable age and about the same age as her husband Benjamin.
The Pocasset Tribe was one of the largest and most powerful tribes in the Wampanoag Federation. It was Corbitant who, in July 1621, shortly after the Pilgrims arrived, contrived a plot to become the Great Sachem of the Wampanoags. This plot was thwarted when Hobomock and Squanto heard Corbitant's speech to the Nemaskets.
In March of 1623, when Massasoit was suffering from his serious illness, Winslow was sent to pay his respects to the dying Sachem.
After dinner Corbitant asked Winslow, if it had been Corbitant who was ill, would Governor Bradford have sent medicine and would Winslow have come such a long distance to heal him.
Winslow had to think for a moment on this and then replied that it was a mark of respect and they treated all people that way when they felt a great respect for them. Their conversation turned toward religion and they were both surprised that their religions actually had much in common. Following Alexander's death, Weetamoo returned to her home to assume her role as Squaw Sachem of the Pocassets. Weetamoo eventually married Peter Nannuit, (Petanonowett, Petanunuit.) Little is known of him, except that at the outbreak of the King Philip War, he sided with the English. As the main body of Indians moved north, Weetanoo, went to Ninigret, Sachem of the Eastern Niantics, in Rhode Island.
In the fall of 1675, while she was still with the Eastern Niantics, Quinnapin escaped from jail in Rhode Island and came to seek refuge with his friend (and father's cousin) Ninigret. Quinnapin was the son of Canjanaquand, (Cagianaquan) who was a brother to Miantonomo, Great Sachem of the Narragansetts before his son Canonchet.
Quinnapin and Weetamoo joined with Canonchet in his swamp island shortly before the surprise attack of the English known as the Great Swamp Massacre, of December 19, 1675. Under the military leadership of Canonchet, Quinnapin became one of the leading war sachems, striking hard with his force of 400 warriors.
Following the death of Canonchet in April, Quinnapin was the leader of the Narragansetts in battles. In early August, as the end seemed to be nearing, Quinnapin led what was left of his Narragansett warriors, back to Rhode Island. There remained some question as to her cause of death but this is the state in which her body was found and desecrated.
After returning to Rhode Island, Quinnapin was also hunted down by the English and eventually captured. Little is know of Weecum (Weecome) except that she was a Squaw Sachem, probably of the Pocasset Tribe. Pamantaquash (Pomantaquash) was the Sachem of the Assawampsetts Tribe in the Wampanoag Federation. Pamantaquash has been confused, by some writers, with Poquanum, the Sachem of Nahant, a tribe located north of Boston on a peninsula south of Lynn. In 1668, six years after the death of Massasoit, Pamantaquash had the following will recorded by Nathaniel Morton, secretary of the Plymouth Colony, naming Tuspaquin as his heir. Tuspaquin (Tuspequin Tispaquin, Watuspuquin) was a highly regarded sachem at Assawampsetts Pond. In contrast to the very tall, fair complexioned Indians of New England, Tuspaquin, is said to have been short, very heavy, with unusually long arms for a short person.
Tuspaquin was regarded highly enough to win the hand of Amie, the daughter of Massasoit, for his wife.
There are indications that Tuspaquin extended his domain to include the Nemasket Tribe to the north as he is sometimes referred to as being the Sachem of the Assawampsetts and Nemaskets. Although he seemed compatible with the English settlers, Tuspaquin never aligned himself closely with them.
At the outbreak of the War, Tuspaquin led a large force of 300 warriors in support of Philip.
After Philip returned to Wampanoag country near the end of the war, it was easier for the English to enlist volunteers and also to surround the holdouts.
Of Tuspaquin's and Amie's children, it is quite certain that William was killed in the war. Benjamin Tuspaquin (Tuspaquin II, Squim, Squin, Benjamin Squinnamay, Benjamin Squamnaway) is the only child of Old Tuspaquin and Amie known to have survived the King Philip War and remain in this country. After the King Philip War, the surviving Indians recognized their place as a conquered people and settled down to be subservient to the English in, what was formerly their land.
Lydia's parents both died when she was young and she was raised by her grandparents, Benjamin and Weecum. At the time of his second marriage, Andrew already had two children of his own from his prior marriage. A point against the argument that this was a case of mistaken identity and that the dead man was not Andrew Newcomb, is the fact that he was known by the men who identified him. The obvious omission of his oldest son, Andrew II, as an heir could be due to the fact that this son was already well established in life and had no need of an inheritance; or it is possible that there was a falling out between father and son. The first record of Andrew buying land was on 20 April 1669 (deeds at Alfred, York Co., Maine, Vol. At this time Andrew Newcomb became Constable of the town and was living at the Shoals, or in Kittery.
The name of Andrew's first wife, Sarah, appears only once, on a deed of land sold and recorded 21 July 1673 (from the deeds at Exeter, N.H. At Edgartown, Andrew became a prominent citizen and his name appears in many documents, as witness for land transfers, etc. Sometime after his arrival in Edgartown, Andrew met and married his second wife, Anna Bayes, daughter of Anna Baker, of Boston and Captain Thomas Bayes.
By 1690, Andrew was an established member of the community and had acquired several parcels of land. Although some records list 11 children for Zerviah and Josiah Bearce, other records make it clear that they, in fact, had no children.
Bearce says (9) he knows from family tradition that Margaret was the daughter of one of Massasoit's two brothers but he could not remember which one. The birth date of Margaret is not known but, it is likely to have been about 1612-15, or about the same time as her Uncle Akkompoin. At the arrival of the pilgrims, Quadaquinna was in his thirties and could easily have been the father of the 6-9 year old Margaret. Even before the arrival of the Pilgrims, while exploring New England, Captain Dermer was captured by the local Indians at Nemasket.
When the Pilgrims landed, in December of 1620, Quadaquinna was in his prime, probably somewhere in his 30's. As Quadaquinna entered the English lodge where they were to meet, he was concerned about their guns and refused to sit down until they had all been removed from the building. It is not known whether Quadaquinna died young, or whether he was so much a part of Massasoit's company that no one bothered to specifically mention him again. Nothing is known of Quadaquinna's family except that Bearce (9) says, one of Massasoit's brothers was the father of Margaret.
Gabriel Wheldon was born in England and seems to have had a wife and children before coming to America.
From the pilgrim's records, it is not apparent that Gabriel Wheldon was sent, or sentenced, to Matachees.
To summarize much of the above, Gabriel Wheldon arrived in Plymouth, probably from Nottinghamshire, England, in 1628 and went immediately to Mt.
After living with the Pokanoket Indians for some time, Gabriel must have felt safe in returning to the town of Plymouth. On October 27, 1646 Ruth Wheldon, the daughter of Gabriel and Margaret, was married to Richard of Yarmouth. A record can be found of an Indian Sagamore by the name of a€?Richarda€? at Yarmouth at this time.
A dissenting view is expressed by Bearce, who says that a€?Richard Tayler was born in England.a€? No source, or support is given for this statement.
Richard of Yarmouth, the tailor, at about age 42, married Ruth Wheldon, age 14, October 27, 1646. The Indians on Cape Cod were considered part of the Wampanoag Nation but, that may have been because they really didn't have much choice. The Indians on the Cape, those of Marthas Vineyard, Nantucket and Elizabeth Islands were part of the Wampanoag Federation but more removed physically, socially and perhaps politically. During the life of Massasoit, most of the Nipmuck tribes, of central Massachusetts, and many of the Massachusetts Federation, of eastern Massachusetts, also gave allegiance to the Wampanoag's Great Sachem and were considered to be part of Massasoit's followers in about the same way as the Cape Indians. Because of this, there is less known of the Cape Indians than of some of the other Wampanoag Tribes.
It is not absolutely clear if all of the other Cape Indians belonged to a single tribe, or if there were further divisions. Coneconam, Sachem at Manomet, was one of those captured by Captain Edward Harlow in 1611, along with Epanow, Sachem at Gay Head on Marthas Vineyard Island. It will be remembered that, the first encounter the Pilgrims had with any of the natives was in December 1620, when they first landed on the Cape. In June 1621, less than three months after Massasoit and Quadaquinna signed the first treaty with Plymouth, a young boy from the colony got lost in the woods. It was no secret to the Indians where the boy was, but when the colonists were unable to find him they sent word to Massasoit, who responded that they need not worry, the boy was safe and in good hands. Before they could return to their boat, it was mid-day and Iyanough invited them to stay for lunch.
Aspinet then told them that Massasoit had been captured by Canonicus, of the Narragansetts, and recommended that they return to help him as soon as possible. As soon as they got underway they met with such strong winds that the colonists could make no real headway. Iyanough was evidently supportive of the Treaty of Submission to King James, signed at Plymouth on September 13, 1621. In January, Miles Standish, the ill tempered military captain, went with the ship and a shallop to Nauset to pick up the corn that had been left there.
Shortly thereafter, in February 1623, Miles Standish went to Mattachee to pick up the food that Governor Bradford bought and left there.
About the same time, Governor Bradford made a trip to Manomet to ask for food from Coneconam.
The 35-year-old star looks at least 25, thanks to her flawless alabaster skin and megawatt smile. Their other crushes dwindled over the years, but at 48, the incredible Tomei is still breaking hearts.
Not only were frescoes of rhinos, horses and lions over 30,000 years old found in a cave in the Ardeche on Dec. Although theya€™re probably right, ita€™s worth noting that these same specialists used similar criteria to ascribe the animals of Chauvet to the same period - until carbon 14 results pushed their age back over 10,000 years, shattering the notion that prehistoric art had evolved linearly, like technologies.
In France, the Ministry of Culture placed its new treasure under the most draconian protection, despite the fact that the country already has the lion's share of Paleolithic art.
Standing right in front of some of the most spectacular engravings, the Secretary of State for Culture dismissed them as being nothing more than a€?childrena€™s doodlesa€? a€“ whereupon the students from Foz CA?aa€™s high school turned the official into a laughing-stock by presenting him with a schist slab covered with their own scribblings4. It's now or never, the author of the following article decided in April 1995, as he set out to evaluate the engravings, find out the truth, and propose solutions. My 13-year old son and I had flown to Porto in Portugal and driven far up the Douro valley into the northeastern mountains, prepared to maneuver around obstructions whether by negotiation or hiking through the back door.
Still, here was our first encounter with the powers that be, so I took this opportunity to probe, and get a first step up the hierarchical ladder.
So I explained how Sebastian and I had come so far to see the Paleolithic glories that Portugal would be displaying with pride, spoke of credentials, and placed us (and our pen) in his hands. Still, we had our bearings, and drove off into the late afternoon to penetrate the heart of the forbidden zone. We were getting closer, very close now, and could spy loops of a trail among the folds of a distant ridge.
And here too was the arena where one of the greatest feuds between discoverers and custodians of the past had exploded since the conflict between Othniel Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope over the fossils of extinct giants in Sioux territory during Custer's battles.
With swifts swirling in up-drafts around our heads, we scrambled and picked our way among sheer precipices and ledges. Its tight horseshoe of cliffs and rubble made the perfect hiding place for our car and tent from the gray guards roaming the surrounding crests with binoculars. Sebastian snuggled tighter into his sleeping bag, so I set out to reconnoiter alone, systematically working quadrants and contours between our quarry at Fariseu and Piscos brook.
Somewhere among the jumble of a thousand rock faces would be an ancient image - perhaps masked by lichen or so faint one had to trace its parts before seeing it whole.
The numbed waters suddenly spangled upstream with glitter and so many flowery white tresses of water plants that the currents looked like sudsy pastures.
After all the noisy demonstrations against the dam in Lisbon, how were they to know how much clout a nosy prehistorian might have? Whatever was going to happen to him afterwards in the backwater of Portuguese archaeology had surely been inconsequential, since experience proved that nobody made much fuss over sites that were out-of-sight and out-of-mind - especially with archaeologists beholding to dam-builders and political appointees for access and records.
According to the insinuations, he could have continued his documentation right up to the headwaters as his masters worked their way upstream step by step.
I sensed that this crowd felt their doctor deserved to be the one to tell fellow archaeologists that they might as well ask to visit Atlantis.
Sure enough, there was the 12 year-old Pocinho dam sweeping the valley with a clean curtain.14 But the silos of this former construction site's cement plant were speckled with rust, the ranks of its offices and dormitories were deserted and almost every window was broken. Fortunately, Sebastian was becoming ever more engrossed in Verne's book, spelunking towards the planet's core, so I began to gravitate down halls for exercise and companionship, coming to the door of the room where the secretary was braiding the blind's cord while two laconic draftsmen labored over tracings of horses, ibexes and aurochs. It has been insinuated that Rebanda probably discovered Rock 1 at Canada do Inferno as early as November 1991.18 In Dec. So, quixotically, he had proposed building a dry-dock around the outcropping, and, failing that, underwater exploration.
If so, the power utility may have known of incredibly rich sites years before the first blueprint for the new dam! Clottes was the worlda€™s reigning prehistorian a€“ the man who had risen to the pinnacle of the French archaeological establishment and held the only keys to the holy grail of art caves - the unbelievably strong and ancient Grotte Chauvet. After inspecting the 15% of the art that remained above water at the site in the rising dama€™s shadow, because the EDP had hardly felt it necessary to lower the water for the visit of the foreigner sent by the now antagonistic IPPAR, Clottes stepped before a highly polarized press corps. The dam-builders and their government backers felt vindicated while much of Portuguese public was crestfallen or furious. The dam had become a poisonous political issue in a national election with the President and his fellow Socialists attacking the center-right Prime Minister for its willingness to sacrifice both the nationa€™s patrimony and vineyards to a flaky building scheme. As if the owners of villas built around the new lake would really allow it to be drained 100 meters to its bottom - where almost all of the known panels would soon be drowned a€“ once every decade! Suddenly, the Portuguese public felt that the dam-builders were not only destroying the nationa€™s most ancient claim to world grandeur and civilization, but that they were in league with a man who would never have been so cavalier with Paleolithic masterpieces in his own country! When I later asked Portuguese archaeologists if they were going to attend an up-coming conference organized by Clottes, they recoiled. First, because Clottesa€™ retinue of hosts, diplomats and reporters was rushing him and putting him in a bind a€“ even if his stature, pride, and role as UNESCOa€™s expert on rock art had led him into it. They even echoed his faith in getting dam operators to regularly empty the vast lake a€“ despite the glaring evidence of the EDPa€™s behavior at CA?a itself. No sooner had Clottes triggered a public outcry, than he began to explain away his tepid defense of the CA?aa€™s importance by saying that he had not been shown enough art to form a true idea of the valleya€™s richness.35 But the truth is, he was shown Rebandaa€™s trove of drawings from submerged sections and sites upstream36 and could have been more demanding. After all it was a lot of money, the government was inflexible, the controversy had become a campaign issue a€“ which meant that his advice would seem like foreign meddling - and the elections were still far off.
When, in fact, the long-term rights for the cave in France would belong to its Ministry of Culture a€“ which was already attacking its discoverer, Chauvet, for the pittance hea€™d received for his pictures. But I could hardly hold my tongue: why on earth had he invited people from this caste of academics back into his life - and the valley - when at least one of them had apparently abused him? The picture was compelling: SimAµes and her husband angelically insisting that the world must be told, while the hireling screamed demonically over the fire, accusing university archaeologists of trying to hog the credit yet again.
If Rebanda had known SimAµes and Jaffe were going to paint him into a corner, wouldn't he have raced for the exit?
Both Rebanda and SimAµes de Abreu could have been traitors and saviors at once, and as long as I was with this archaeologist, I felt bound to encourage the savior in him. It must have seemed like an insult to him after all his efforts, so with an anarchic gesture, he announced, what the hell, he'd photocopy their fax when it came, so we could enter a second. Huge black derricks hulked atop the dam beside a row of gate-lifting pistons that looked like Big Berthas.
We bagged the warning or omen, caught and released a giant water beetle - the kind that injects deliquescing enzymes into living frogs, then sucks out their juice - and worked our way along what was actually the upper tier of a disappearing cliff.
When art panels are located in the CA?aa€™s side valleys, they are apparently concentrated on northern slopes. I was a willing guide as we skewered corn kernels on hooks, lashed lines around a log and threw the lethal leashes into the dark. They were a hundred yards apart, making perpetual rounds as they kept time clocks happy by cranking them every few paces with keys chained to the fence. It was probably his first job after military service, but he was intelligent enough to realize that hea€™d been hired as a pawn in a vast conspiracy to keep Portugal's greatest cultural wonders out of sight and out of mind, till they could be obliterated. One, because any plan to remove the friezes not only meant assigning a value to them, but keeping the controversy alive.
The mountainous dirt road forked, meandered and even skirted an imposing castle,51 but several classes of children were making the long dusty pilgrimage on foot while carloads of adults in their Sunday best made the excursion to see the only engravings to have escaped the censors - either because the site at Penascosa was so far from Lima Montiero's spyglass or because the valley was gentler here and had always been farmed. I hadn't passed the first olive tree when I happened upon a well-knapped hand-axe, and then another! On-line commentary entitled a€?Some corrections about the CA?a petroglyphsa€? in TRACCE no. While Chauveta€™s name was given to the cave itself, the names of his co-discoverers were given to two of its large chambers.
Mila SimAµes de Abreu and Ludwig Jaffe were the founders of the APAAR (AssociaA§ao Portuguesa de Arte e Arqueologia Rupestre), which has been a member of IFRAO (International Federation of Rock Art Organisations) since Sept. In an on-line commentary, Jaffe denounced what he perceived as a continuation of the scandal under new management: a€?In December 1994 IPPAR passed the responsibility for the rock art in the Coa valley to Mario Varela Gomes and Antonio Martinho Baptista. Their critics often subscribe to the doctrine that modern ethnographic evidence cannot be used to interpret ancient cultures. Although Bednarik was one of the earliest crusaders for CA?a - calling for the EDP to stop building the dam in Nov. The leftist press and Portuguese archaeological milieu reacted with just as much reflection, ignoring both Bednarika€™s qualifiers and his pioneering role in organizing the world campaign to fight for the whole valleya€™s salvation (see Dossier CA?a p. Of the 66 contributions written by individuals, not one is by Nelson Rebanda, whose ghost a€“ to anyone interested in intellectual property a€“ haunts every line.
After the CA?a scandal served its purpose as an electoral issue that helped the Socialists to win power, the new government kept its campaign promise by protecting the CA?a Valley but used the goodwill engendered by the decision to blunt criticism while flooding other huge assemblages of rock art. 3; Catherine Vincent, writing in Le Monde on March 11, 1995, goes into much more detail about one particular vineyard, Ervamoira, that would have been lost, along with its exceptional Port wine. The first was to prove that the engravings were not Paleolithic a€“ an effort that entrapped researchers who wanted to apply experimental direct-dating techniques. She would also have been a part of the royal family which would make her a suitable mate for Benjamin.
Rowlandson says that a victory dance a€?was carried on by eight of them, four men and four squaws.a€? Weetamoo was one of the squaws. James Church and certain members of his company of friendly Indians, in consideration of services rendered by them to the Province tract of land in what was then Freetown, but now East Fall River. 1666-7, in the Ketch _______, Andrew Newcomb, Master, for Virginia for account of John Ely and Eliakim Hutchinson--various horses described--avouched by Mr.
Andrew Nurcom complayneth agaynst Amos an Enden (Indian) for Inbaseling or purloyning away Sidor & Rum. 2 p.24) Late that afternoon, the shallop finally got out of the harbor and made Plymouth before nightfall. Plus, she's had to deal with the stress of being in the constant spotlight, yet it has taken no toll on her face.
Woulfe of Australia for all his support and for the incredible book - "Woulfe, a Family History." It is 2 decades worth of research on his Athea branch of our family. 18th1, but Europea€™s biggest open-air gallery of Paleolithic animals was reported just a month earlier in the CA?a Valley of northeastern Portugal2. Regardless of how old the CA?aa€™s art turns out to be, it is unique in its richness above ground and astonishing in its illustrations of movement - with animals tossing their heads with the same stop-action dynamism found at Chauvet and only millennia later in photography and Futurist painting. The Chauvet Cavea€™s prehistoric bestiary was proudly splashed across magazines around the world. Soon, the guard turned into a regular lad, wrote down the chief engineer's name and pointed beyond the ramp-laced moonscape - into the wilderness.
In this walled garden, the conflicting passions of archaeologists had exploded around a campfire, set a president and prime minister against each other, and cowed the emissaries of UNESCO. Lizards skidded into fissures, a rusty blade wedged in a nook beside a sliver of cliff garden spoke of an emigrant who had never returned, but the walls seemed barren. Over and over again, the scene seemed set, the rock stretched, but its lines were just fractals.
I yanked myself up to a platform less than a step wide and a ten-foot long cow - an auroch! By holding the animal's form and movement vividly in mind, the maker had poured himself into its body and experienced a power beyond abstraction, beyond even tool-making, to thrill to the new power of passing through the looking-glass into another being. A stream, running pure as its springs over crisp cresses between alternating bull rushes and crags, almost made it to the river unaltered, but met it just below the threshold and sank into an estuary.
We had arrived at Pandemonium and would try to insinuate ourselves into an audience with the Chief Engineer himself.
Only one was so spotless and redolent of perks, though, with its rolled lawn incongruous in the desert, that we knew right where to head among forking roads. I was hardly surprised when these well-fed pros passed the buck to the only gaunt and partially toothless fellow traveler among them. So they decided to play it safe by dumping me on their pet nemesis, the organizationa€™s own archaeological a€?hirelinga€?, Dr. He could have added to his hoard of exclusive photos and measurements, imposed interpretations, and generally lorded it over his peers - for who could have naysayed him with his treasures locked a hundred meters deep in so many great watery safes?10 And to think that all the dam-builders' pet archaeologist and his accommodating superiors at the Portuguese Institute for Architectural and Archaeological Heritage (IPPAR)11 in Lisbon - to whom Rebanda had reported his discoveries at least twice12 - had had to do to pull off this economically patriotic (not to say mutually beneficial) stunt was keep their mouths shut! After having suffered at the hands of his mentor, Professor Jorge, why had Rebanda put himself at the mercy of two similar academics and representatives of an international body to boot - Mila SimAµes de Abreu and her archaeologist husband, Ludwig Jaffe, who represented the International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO)? At least such nuisances would keep him from getting up to more mischief by turning up new discoveries. But, finally, a secretary answered my summons and let me into a vestibule empty except for a display of postcard-sized photographs of some of the engravings, and a cartoon caricaturing the scandal - which I reckoned had been knowingly posted to co-opt criticism.
I couldn't quite make out the man's features through the crack, but it was obvious he was gushing recriminations - and no wonder: the entire archaeological profession had ganged up on the pariah.
We all knew I had crossed a threshold, but, after all, I had paid my dues, and in any case, I padded off to the foyer again. Yet they'd prattled to the press that they had found the art a year ago, and then more like two years ago, and now, word had it, a€?onlya€? three years ago25 - when it was always somehow too late to stop the process leading up to construction, which had only started in September a€™94.26 The gall!
Instantly, I whipped out paper and scribbled the fastest copy of the main map that my hand could draw. After SimAµes de Abreu and Jaffe had unleashed the scandal by revealing the conspiracy to flood Europea€™s richest assemblage of open-air Paleolithic art, the IPPAR and Portuguese Ministry of Culture had scrambled to get their own expert witness a€“ and, in a further twist, had asked UNESCO to recommend an expert to challenge the power companya€™s growing efforts to prove the art wasna€™t Paleolithic but recent27 a€“ in which case, the EDP seemed to think that the public would drop the subject as being the relatively recent work of peasants drawing their cows.
For all their heightened sensitivity to having CA?aa€™s fate evaluated by a foreigner, the Portuguese press viewed Clottes as a referee and expected a verdict. Then, as fate would have it, Clottes was back in the headlines within the week, announcing drastic measures to protect Francea€™s new crown jewel, Chauvet. And as if anyone could even find new art during the two weeks a lake might be emptied (every hundred years) while everything was coated with algae and grime! Opposition editorialists had a field day with Clottesa€™ apparent hypocrisy and dismissiveness towards Portugal - and demonstrators flooded the streets. Two, because people are often driven to produce their greatest work and worst mistakes by similar drives.
Rebanda was even fooling himself on this score, I thought - after all, the Foz CA?a photographs would probably end up belonging to Portugala€™s own ministry or even the EDP. Scientists - like lawyers - ply an adversarial trade, but the chance to put Portugal into the archaeological heavens a€“ and to boost their own reputations with it - had given many researchers more ulterior motives than usual. Personally, I couldn't see anybody bedding down for the night and traipsing out the next morning with people who had announced that they were going to expose him. In essence, my heart a€“ if not my mind - had taken his side for the moment; he was the underdog, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I was concerned that he might even attempt suicide. If I didn't mind coming back at 9 the next morning, he apologized, the approval should be there. But basically the dam was a streamlined machine without much need for local intervention or maintenance. My unequivocal certification of their global importance only made him uneasier, as he didn't know whether to feel flattered or upset. We peered into a dovecot, a squat white tower lined inside with empty compartments like a city after a plague. Suddenly, a deeply hammered auroch on the rock stood out boldly as a road sign - alerting us to an entire herd. The geology, erosion, & silica skins protecting engravings all seem similar on both slopes, so I theorize that this positioning is not simply a taphonomic illusion created by the disappearance of engravings on the southern slopes.
I wasn't expecting anything when I ambled down at dawn, but there it was: a big mound under the bank! From what I could tell, even his draftsmen had decided to take the day off 49, once they realized the coast was clear. By God, I thought, if the flooders don't save them, I hope the townspeople storm the valley!
If the guards hadn't been under strict orders not to sell admissions, they'd have made a killing; but then any financial association with the art is anathema to the dammers: the next thing they knew, they'd have a revolt on their hands!
And like the first guard, when he realized that I had somehow gotten authorization despite my evident opposition to the reservoir, he let out his pent-up indignation - for we were insiders.
As we passed the threshold between the deadened depths and virgin current with its billowing water-foliage, we had to skirt and climb over a sheer wall blocking the side-valleya€™s entrance.
The intertwined couple, spanning the length of a single real horse, was still necking in Eden after twenty millennia.
Rock Art and the CA?a Valley Archaeological Park: A case study in the preservation of Portugal's prehistoric parietal heritage. Although it is true that one must be extremely circumspect about doing so, such evidence often opens new perspectives that have more in common with the subsistence systems of ancient cultures than does our own, and the two authors showed considerable originality and courage in exploring it.
1994 - most Portuguese archaeologists with access to the CA?a sites now shun him as thoroughly as they do Clottes and Rebanda.
539, for a resolution, written in defense of CA?a, by Bednarik, in a book filled with vitriole against him).
These retractions confirmed that some of ZilhA?oa€™s criticisms of the direct dating attempts were well founded, but dona€™t necessarily reflect on other matters raised in his disputes with Bednarik and Jaffe.
In the English sections, Jorge generously credits numerous associates and generations of Portuguese prehistorians by full name, while studiously avoiding any mention of Rebanda except where it is unavoidable, and then only with his last name between brackets. The second was to make casts of panels for a museum a€“ which may have damaged some panels. This Indian plantation was afterwards surveyed and divided into 25 lots, of which the 19th, 20th, 21st and 22nd lots were assigned to the lineal descendants of Benjamin Tuspaquin. John Kendrick was the first ship-master who went on a voyage to the northwest coast from the United States and discovered the Columbia River.
25, 1651-2, at Barnstable, Mass.) The King Philip War had just ended in which her husband, Joseph, served for the English. But if you could go ahead and catch up with the rest of us regular folk, that would be awesome.
While the paintings in the French cave, which became known as the Grotte Chauvet, often have engraved contours, the Portuguese menagerie may also have been painted, but, being outdoors, their pigments have usually weathered away.
As shadows welled from the valley, we turned from the scarps and trundled downwards into the cleavage, till the road turned into a path to the water through a profusion of poppies. Finally, I discerned a flock ambling down through dry brush, then a shirt flashed a white dot, and we converged within hailing distance on opposite banks.
Even ideal panels on either side of a fig tree bulging titanically from a small cave were barren. A stand of poplar trees crackled like Chinese New Year with small birds, abundant as leaves. It was a good thing we had his name, Lima Monteiro, because the Securitas guard on this side meant business.
Our compact car slid in among Mercedes and I stepped into glare, drawing cool stares from fleshy faces. My interlocutor explained that the Chief Engineer was powerless to help me, so he couldn't be bothered to give me an audience. Of course, the stories went, the honorable witnesses had refused to become accomplices and had immediately denounced the whole plot a€“ writing open letters to the Portuguese President, Vice President and Director of IPPAR - with carbon copies for the press.13 If only his employers had known that Rebanda was so naive! She announced that it was no use disturbing the doctor, who I could see through a jarred door talking to someone over the phone with peevish vehemence. Finally, I suggested that she didn't need to keep me company while I waited for the good doctor to get off the phone.
That's strange, I thought as I wandered off again, mulling over a mental photograph of the site distribution.
And here were others, even closer to the construction site, at "RA?go de Vide", which had been submerged by the same old dam! Still, she caught me; whereupon I went on elaborating it, asking questions, and then padded back to the foyer again to continue my vigil. After all, the archaeologists and reporters had allowed the Tagus petrogylphs to be drowned with hardly a whimper. Not only did the contrast with his actions in Portugal now smack of a double standard, but there was a piquant irony. With stakes this high, both parties unleashed their opinion-making machines, making hash of Clottesa€™ carefully weighed words as quickly as theya€™d vilified Rebanda.
Clottesa€™ words may have been earnest, but with stakes this high and politicized they were about as reasonable as Pontius Pilatea€™s attempts to keep the peace. I prefer to think the latter, and that his only mistake was thinking that people on both sides were lucid and reflective enough to interpret his verdict correctly. In Rebanda's place, I'd have calmed down and let the traitors fall to sleep, but then I'd have snuck away - trekking fast through the dark, picking myself up when I fell, but getting out - bloody knees and all - and calling that alarm first!
Furthermore, I had no doubt - whatever pacts he'd struck - that he would make up for them if only approached constructively.
After we'd faxed it, I was sorry to see him having to still recall and refax, as he nudged the request repeatedly through the unyielding bureaucracy. Sebastian and I scrambled and tacked among the carious cliffs, till there was nothing left but rock overhanging the water itself. But a huge horse, leaning over the depths, was both more graceful and cryptic, for someone had wedged a rusty horseshoe into a crack between its hooves. No sooner had I chipped the thin device and steadily shoved each curve straight, than the hook slipped smoothly free. Only Rebanda's long-suffering secretary had to keep her post and occupied herself by taking up the relay of calling and faxing. These red and gray devices were not only customized to match the guards' uniforms, but showed off the latest in high-tech materials and molding. As we wound our way down towards the reservoir among towering red cliffs, he took quiet pride in pointing out the hidden elements of scattered engravings.
But then Piscos Brook ran between trees, pastures and cane-groves, with cliffs full of shelters and stone panels at each bend. La Pintura, The Official Newsletter of the American Rock Art Research Association (Member of IFRAO) Volume 21, Number 3, Winter. In the same book, which Jorge compiled to record the campaign he was spear-heading to save CA?a a€“ a laudatory effort, if there ever was one, that made Jorge synonymous with yet another of Rebandaa€™s finds - Bednarik is repeatedly dismissed as a a€?charlatana€? (pp. Jaffe accused the trio, who had taken over responsibility for the archaeological resources of the valley, of endangering art panels and refusing to allow qualified foreign researchers or even Dr. Whatever the case may be, the problem of rock art conservation is still as far from resolution in Portugal as it is in most other places in the world. Nora Woulfe of Athea and Timothy Woulfe (The school principal in Athea) for suppling letters and information to Josie on John's behalf. All that remains, where jagged outcroppings of schist jut from brushy slopes - exposing terminal facets perfect for murals - are hauntingly sinuous outlines of deer, horses, ibexes, and wild cattle called aurochs. The first flurry of press articles had mentioned that many of the engravings were already submerged by the cofferdam holding the river back for the more monstrous wall rising downstream from it. I sent greetings and the shepherd expostulated and gestured animatedly upstream towards towering slabs.
For me, all of mankind's later accomplishments, all our later experience of good and evil only become possible after such art.
The irrelevant exchange had sparked sympathy as we both waited - and waited, in similar irrelevance to someone too consumed to give us heed. I would have to go to Lisbon, and no, it wouldn't do any good for him to fax; he didn't have an iota of authority. Despite all the insinuations about Rebanda and IPPAR, they were actually the first to try blocking the philistines with the clout of an institution as important as UNESCO. About thirty years before, Francea€™s equivalent to the EDP had taken the entire Ardeche Gorge, where the Chauvet Cave had just been found, from its entrance at Sauze to a rainbow-huge, natural arch - Vallon Pont da€™Arc, next to Chauvet - by eminent domain, to build a dam. These conscientious people know that theya€™re barely tolerated by the forces of Mammon - scraping crumbs from the tables of vast enterprises armed with dynamite and bulldozers - and make compacts all the time with them, telling themselves, for instance, that the alluvial strata that cement plants exploit are always too tumbled to contain intact Acheulian hearths. If only he'd announced the discovery, co-opted his employers, and splashed masterpieces across magazine covers while the art's existence was still fresh, he might have won honor, fame, a very small fortune (and maybe even kept his job). Within weeks, local academics had begun signing their names to Rebandaa€™s discoveries, tracings, and interpretations while forgetting to cite him. I'd have been the one to announce the existence of the largest gathering of open-air Paleolithic engravings in Europe to the world. Slate slabs, thoughtfully laid into a wall as steps, led down through a canopy of fig trees into a cavernous wallow between cliffs. I woke Sebastian in time to see the beast lumber over the bank and glide away, and then it was high time we checked out our other line at the doctor's office. Noon passed as we still waited together like an old couple, talking about the doctor's misery, Australian rock art, translations; whatever. The guards stiffened as Sebastian and I had the gumption to breach a forbidden zone and stride blithely forward. There were so many warblers piping and whistling, there must have been a dozen species with overlapping territories.
Botha€? - Baptista and Gomes a€“ a€?were closely involved in the rationale to submerge the rock art (to 'protect it from vandals'); in fact, on 8 November Baptista spoke of how sedimentation behind dams should protect rock arta€? - my italics. After our departure, Bednarik and three other researchers (Alan Watchman from Canada, plus Fred Phillips and Ronald Dorn from the USA), who believed that they had found ways to date rock art directly, studied some of the CA?aa€™s engravings during separate visits.
1995 that was led by Mounir Bouchenaki, the IPPAR formed a scientific committee consisting of Antonio BeltrA?n, Emmanuel Anati and Jean Clottes, who came back for a second round. Those includes the letters from Maurice of Cratloe who served in the US Army in the 1860's. And so, forgive me, but in comparison to these ancient windows, cathedrals seem to have anti-climatic and overwrought power. Except for the absence now of bigger species, this was how Solutreans had experienced the world - with whistling, mooing, barking, roaring and trumpeting not just on the Serengeti, but to the frozen north! So much will go unrecorded because of all this fuss.a€? a€“ So, Rebanda is resigned to the inevitability of the flooding, I thought. If the dam had been built, a dozen known art caves would have been flooded or affected by rising water tables. So rather than condemn Clottes, perhaps the Portuguese should simply admit his diplomacy opened the debate, even if one might wish that hea€™d been a crusader.
From Chauveta€™s pinnacle, its gatekeeper was probably right to dismiss the scratchings, which I too thought could have been the kneading of bears, but the contrast between the levels of encouragement was striking. Although they granted him the discovery of Hella€™s Canyon (in footnotes), other sites that Rebanda had already noted were soon claimed by competitors as Rebanda was effectively silenced.
And Vitor and his wife, Susanaa€? - was it my imagination or did her name stick in his craw? Their stingy hypocrisy and philistinism revolted me: they wouldn't spend a penny on protecting such discoveries, but they'd drown the world up to its headwaters to keep driving Mercedes. Goldfinches sparked into the air, a crested hoopoo flashed orange and black, and the shaggy canes were a tumult of avian chatter.
Jaffe was also the IFRAO representative of the SocietA Cooperativa Archaeologica, Le Orme della€™Uomo, Italy (Bednarik 1994). But not before signing controversial non-disclosure agreements with the EDP, which was hoping that their techniques would yield dates so recent that they could be used to ridicule stylistic daters who had identified the engravings as Paleolithic (Baptista & Fernandes 2007, p. 1716, she married Josiah Bearce I, the son of Joseph and Martha (Taylor) Bearce, and grandson of Austin (Augustine) and Mary Bearce. Intermittent splashes smacked echoes off the walls, a frog croaked and some beast keened a cry we had never heard.
When I asked if they could intercede on our behalf, she said one had to apply in person, in Lisbon, and have connections. In fact, paw prints indicated that we had missed cornering another feral dog or fox in its lair. Surgically, it was a nightmare: I'd have to pry its head out, keep its neck extended, wedge open its powerful beak and finally thrust the treble barbs down its throat, so as to carefully extract their burr, without snagging them again! Finally, they agreed that one of them would walk parallel to us, down the fence-line, to let us in the distant gate. At our feet, frogs skipped like pebbles and painted turtles rowed earnestly in tangled water blossoms - all for the taking.
Unless you and I and all of us together add our voices to those of the Portuguese citizenry trekking down for a last look, and reclaim what is OURS!
The story of the denunciation is from Bednarik (1994) and Simons in the New York Times (1994). Thanks also to Ramy Brouder of Limerick who has done extensive research on the Athea Woulfes.
Even the Chauvet Cave, which was unknown, might have been threatened by the changing water table!
Unfortunately, Bednarik, who is one of the worlda€™s most encyclopedically informed, accomplished, and bold prehistorians, walked right into the trap. Jorgea€™s utter dismissal of Bednarik was clearly motivated by the lattera€™s implicit condemnation of the way that Jorge had appropriated Rebandaa€™s earlier discovery at Mazouco, instigating Rebandaa€™s secrecy that was one component of the CA?a a€?cover-upa€? (Bednarik 1994, p. Later, Bednarik spear-headed another campaign to save a Portuguese rock-art assemblage from inundation a€“ this time behind a dam in the Guadiana Valley - and noted that a€?None of this helps the rock art of the Guadiana, condemned to inundation under billions of tonnes of lake sediment as the reservoir silts up over the next 70 yearsa€? a€“ again, my italics. Do you think I'm such a fool as to invite the man who deprived me of the credit for my first discovery, to come see my greatest wonders if it wasn't because I needed all the allies I could get; if it wasn't because I even needed the universities to help save them. Ironically, the mandarin in Porto would come out smelling like roses for his campaign while the roles of several well-meaning prehistorians, if I may insist upon the word, were simplified so as to make them better scapegoats. Crioch is a farmland in Lower Athea.John's research shows his Great Great Grandfather RICHARD WOULFE (b1790?) living at the family farm in Lower Athea. First, because his dating system, which was based on determining the degree of micro-erosion undergone by a rock face, had been developed in Australia, where climate and geological conditions are different from Portugala€™s. They had a son RICHARD WOULFE JUNIOR in 1821.A Richard's son RICHARD WOULFE JUNIOR inherited the farm.
This odd statement flies in the face of Bednarika€™s consistent defense of both the CA?aa€™s art and other assemblages, suggesting that it was a ploy to get the EDP to allow them to test their methods. Even though both men concluded that their observations proved that the art was no older than the Neolithic, Bednarik did not repeat the notion, when announcing his results, that a relatively recent vintage diminished the arta€™s importance or the need to protect it a€“ quite the contrary. Woulfe of Australia's Grandfather) Patrick had a relationship with JOHANNA HOWARD around 1875.
9 children - RICHARD, FRANK, THOMAS, WILLIAM, MARY-ELLEN, ELLEN-MARY, BRIDGETT, MAURICE, and KITTY. RB says Maurice and Catherine lived in the old farm-house till around 1908 when they moved to a new house near the road. Maurice would be John P Woulfe of Australia's great uncle, and Josie Golding of Limerick's grandfather. A I learned something from every man I met or exchanged emails with, and Lou taught me a few words in Spanish.A Ole! Paddy served in the British Army in the Boer War, and again in World War I, and was taken prisoner by the Germans.
Paddy went to Australia in 1953 with Gertrude, following his son John who'd emigrated in June,1952.
We can take a little walk, maybe get our feet wet, and then lie on a blanket and listen to the waves. I do the same thing myself, when the mood strikes.A And how about this for being an "in tune with women" kinda guy?A A few days after I had ordered myself 2 new green dresses and several in black to add to my collection from a mail order company named Newport News, he sent an email asking:A "So, what are you wearing right now?
And to the right is a "Welcome Home" letter from King George thanking Paddy for his bravery while a prisoner of the Germans in World War 1. Selected prisoners returning home received similar letters particularly if they suffered ill treatment at the hands of their captor. During these many months of trial, the early rescue of our gallant Officers + men from the cruelties of their captivity has been uppermost in our thoughts. We are thankful that this hoped for day has arrived, + that back in the old country you will be able to once more enjoy the happiness of a home + to see good days among those who anxiously look for your return. A For Christ Sake!!A How about saving the Taxpayers a buck?A In addition to that $6 million you've already blown by hovering and covering me, and scheduling a proper Face to Base meeting in your office; at my convenience?
Dramatic, but no drama.A Short black skirt, or long black dress?A Heels or boots?A Camo, or commando?
Worked at Castlemahon where he met and married a dressmaker named CATHERINE RYAN of BallyLoughhane, Carrickberry. After Tom's father Richard died, Tom and Catherine returned to Lower Athea where they had another 7 children! Kitty, Josephine (Josie Golding), Patrick, Bridgett, Anna (Nancy),Richard (Dick), and Ellen Ann.A Tom worked as a foreman on the roads in Limerick, taking over the job his father Maurice had held until his death.
With the move, Lower Athea was left without a member of his Woulfe family for the first time in 200 years.
He is buried in the new cemetery at Holy Cross.WILLIAM WOULFE b1900 d1968 Glasgow, Scotland.
Until then, as in the end,there is much more to come.A A A Once Upon a Time, a little mushroom popped through the moss covered ground of the Southeast Alaska Rainforest. Born in old home in Lower Athea.At age 18, accompanied her sister Mary Ellen to San Fransisco. 3 children - Mary lou -(Sister Marietta lives in Midland Maryland), Maurice, Tommy - both live in Chicago.
Grant, Attorney at Law, Juneau, AK From Wedding Bells to Tales to Tell: The Affidavit of Eric William Swanson, my former spouse AFFIDAVIT OF SHANNON MARIE MCCORMICK, My Former Best Friend THE AFFIDAVIT OF VALERIE BRITTINA ROSE, My daughter, aged 21 THE BEAGLE BRAYS! He was brought back to Athea for burial in Holy Cross cemetery in the same plot as his mother and father.THOMAS b1925 Glasgow d1984 Glasgow. HELL'S BELLS: THE TELLS OF THE ELVES RING LOUD AND CLEAR IDENTITY THEFT, MISINFORMATION, AND THE GETTING THE INFAMOUS RUNAROUND Double Entendre and DoubleSpeak, Innuendos and Intimidation, Coercion v Common Sense, Komply (with a K) v Knowledge = DDIICCKK; Who's Gunna Call it a Draw? Worked at home with his father until he married PEG WOULFE of Clash, Athea and built a new house in Gortnagross, Athea.
A A John has sent me some information on the "Erinmen" who served as mounted police officers during Australia's gold rush days in the 1860's.
A Dillane who was married to Mary Woulfe of Limerick was transported to Ireland as a convict in 1853. He's an ancestor of Irene Dillon in Australia.It seems the gold rush days were pretty wild and wooly, and the Victoria police needed some help keeping the miners in Line.
The Victoria Government earlier tried recruiting 50 London police - but the experiment failed because - first - they couldn't ride horses - and - they apparently couldn't handle the outdoor life and the rowdy miners.A But - the tough Royal Irish Constabulary were up to the tough task. Some were recruited directly from Ireland - others came on their own looking for gold - but - went back to their old career when the riches didn't materialize.
Nora Woulfe of Athea and Timothy Woulfe (The school principal in Athea) for suppling letters and information to Josie on John's behalf.
Those includes the letters from Maurice of Cratloe who served in the US Army in the 1860's. Woulfe of Australia's Grandfather) Patrick had a relationship with JOHANNA HOWARD around 1875. Paddy went to Australia in 1953 with Gertrude, following his son John who'd emigrated in June,1952.
After Tom's father Richard died, Tom and Catherine returned to Lower Athea where they had another 7 children! Some were recruited directly from Ireland - others came on their own looking for gold - but - went back to their old career when the riches didn't materialize.
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