The Real Story Of Our First Date- Part 1

During the summer of 1978 Doug and I were part of the Southern Illinois University archaeological field school.  For archaeologists, field school is the place where you learn the basics of archaeological fieldwork.  Students learn how to map, excavate and take descriptive scientific notes by working on an actual archaeological site.  They also learn how to collect, process, and analyze artifacts.  I was one of the 10 undergraduate students enrolled and Doug was one of the 4 graduate student assistants staffing the class.

Over the 6-week summer course we were housed in a neighborhood school in Paducah Kentucky.  Our professor, Dr. M., rented this space for the field school every summer.  We brought cots and sleeping bags and took up residence in classrooms that had been emptied of their furniture.  One of the empty classrooms was used as our archaeological field lab, the place where we processed and analyzed items from our excavations.  Dr. M. stayed in a nearby hotel. 

It is important to point out a few things at this point.  Dr. M. expected the very best behavior from all of us because we were representatives of the university, and his stellar reputation as a good steward of the school while we were in residence, must be maintained.  For this reason, there was one very important rule: No drinking was allowed at the school.  None!!  And, Dr. M. also advised the graduate student assistants against any romantic liaisons with the undergraduate students.

Each day we would drive across the Ohio River, over the old blue bridge, to the southern tip of Illinois, where our archaeological site was located.  We were excavating Mississippian mound builder sites in an area known as the Black Bottoms of Illinois.  These bottomlands, which are filled with rich and fertile soil, are largely covered with agricultural fields.  Our excavation “squares” were in the middle of fields that were planted in corn and soybeans which grew around us as the summer wore on.  As expected, it was very hot and humid.  We drank lots of water and took salt tablets to combat our sodium depletion.  At the end of most days in the field, Dr. M. let us stop on the drive home to have a cold beer at the bar/café in Brookport, IL,  before we crossed the blue bridge back to Kentucky.  Perhaps he thought if he did that, then we’d be less likely to drink and party back at the school.  It worked; a cold beer or two at the end of a hot day was a welcome satisfaction.  By the time we got back to the school, we were exhausted.

Now I’ll jump forward to the last day of field school.  On this last day our task was to thoroughly clean the school, where we had been living.  It was to be spotless!  Dr. M. needed to be able to swing this same deal of renting the school year after year, so again his reputation was on the line.  We spent the day scrubbing floors and bathrooms, packing equipment and materials, and basically trying to leave the facility as clean as we possibly could.  These exhausting tasks took us into the early evening.  

Doug and I had not been romantically involved during the summer, but had been increasingly drawn toward each other as the summer field school came to a close.  Yes, we are finally getting to the “first date” story.  After all this cleaning and packing one of us suggested to the other that perhaps we should go out together and get a few bottles of beer to enjoy.  We headed out in the dark with my car, an old green Plymouth Scamp, to procure the beer.  But, it had begun to rain and it was soon discovered that the windshield wipers on my car, affectionately know as the “green bomber”, were not working.  After only going a short way we returned to the school.  Doug had a solution; he had a key to one of the university’s leased “carryall” trucks that we had used all summer.  So, it was decided that we would take one of those vehicles for our mission.  I know---you’re already saying that perhaps this was not a good idea.

We drove to a local store, purchased a 6-pack of Cook’s beer, one of the most inexpensive beers they sold in Paducah.  I expect that initially our plan was to return to the school where we would drink the beer.  But, we must have considered that important rule of Dr. M.’s that there was to be no drinking at the school.  All those lectures about the importance of maintaining Dr. M.’s reputation in the community, must have nagged at our conscience.  Of course, there had been some in the group that had broken this rule.  But we were, by and large, rule followers and there was a chance that Dr. M. might return that evening to inspect our final cleaning and packing work.  So instead, we drove to a local city park, but discovered it filled with partying teens, and decided that was not a wise place to be.  

Ok, we thought, we’ll drive across the blue bridge over to the farmland area where we had been working all summer and just find a little spot to pull off near the river, where we could just talk, have a couple of beers, and later return back to the school.  So, that’s what we did.  Across the blue bridge we went, down the levy road and off onto a little pullout looking over the mighty Ohio River.  No one was in sight. It had stopped raining and it was quiet and serene. We popped open a couple of cans of the Cook’s beer, which had remained unopened until now, and took our first cool sips as we looked out to the river.  About 3 sips later, we heard sirens, and saw flashing lights as several police cars screeched to a stop close behind us.

-Mary

Doug and Dr. M.- Black Bottoms Field School-1978

Excavations in the soybean field- Black Bottoms Field School 1978

Doug- Black Bottoms Field School 1978

The "Blue Bridge" over the Ohio River

The Real Story Of Our First Date-- Part 2

You might remember that as I left on Part 1, a couple of cop cars, with flashing lights, had pulled up behind us as we were parked by the Ohio River.  Here is what happened next.

We were ordered out of the vehicle.  This was serious business for these young small town cops.  Doug and I were separated and questioned there in the dark hot night.  What were we doing?  Why were we here?  The vehicle was searched thoroughly, and great care was taken in the inspection of each cigarette butt in the ash container.  Foreign and hand rolled cigarettes had been popular that summer with a number of the students.  Inspection found no marijuana, much to the officers’ disappointment I suspect.  One officer asked to inspect the contents of my purse, which I refused out of spite.  We were then loaded into separate police cars and driven to the county police office.

The police department in Massac County Illinois was located in the basement of the county courthouse.  I suspect that it still is, although I have never been back.  The courthouse stood in the center of a central town square of the county seat, small town Metropolis.  Just outside the courthouse was a giant statue of the town’s most famous “fictional resident”, Superman.  Yes, Metropolis claims to be the “home” of Superman.  But the real Superman was not there to rescue us that night as we were hauled down the steps and into the police headquarters.  All was quiet there; we were the excitement for the evening.  We were not actually charged with any type of crime, ours' was a "traffic violation", but we were told that we must pay a fine for our offense.  The offence being that we had open containers of alcohol in our parked vehicle.  Remember the two Cook’s beer that we’d only taken a couple of sips from?  OK, we said, how much?  The fine was $25 with a added processing fee of $10.  We both pulled out our checkbooks, happy that the ordeal would soon be over.  But, the Massac County police department would only take cash, or so we were told.  We didn't have quite enough cash on us to pay the fees.  By now it was very late in the evening.  

Doug used our allotted phone call to wake Dr. M., and ask if he could come get us and bring the cash to pay our fine.  Dr. M. told Doug that he would come in the morning.  So, without a way to pay the fine, on the spot in cash, we were told that we would have to spend the night in jail.  Doug was quickly ushered up to the jail, which was located on the top floor of the old courthouse.  I was told that I must remain in the basement with the other officers until a female officer could be brought in to search me. 

They must have roused this female “officer” from sleep, because it took over an hour for her to arrive.  For all I know she might have just been a court employee, because this didn’t seem like the kind of place that would have female police officers in the late 70’s.  While I waited, the young male officers proceeded to verbally harass me.  I felt like I was a character in a B movie about redneck small town cops.   I ignored and refused to engage in their crude banter.  But, it taught me the important lesson that police officers are capable of misusing their position and power.  The "female officer" eventually arrived and took me in another room to be strip-searched.  Did I really look that dangerous? 

I was then taken up to the jail and told that I would stay in the “maximum security cell” since there was no separate jail for women.  Pretty funny, considering that Doug and I were the only jail occupants that night.  We passed a line of empty jail cells that looked just as I might have imagined from what I had seen on old  TV shows, like Andy Griffith.  Doug was sound asleep as I passed his cell.  My cell, at the end, was a large room with several bunk beds.  Instead of bars, the room was completely enclosed and had a heavy white door that was slammed shut after I entered.  I remember that there was a slot in the door for food to be handed in to the occupant.  I don’t think I slept.  All I could think about was how to get out.  Dr. M. arrived in the morning, paid our fee, and took us back to the school.  It was a long ride.  I don’t remember that he lectured much or even raised his voice.  He didn’t need to, we both felt awful and embarrassed.

The thing that helped our reputations in this whole fiasco was that, I think, Doug and I were thought to be the least likely to have gotten into such trouble.  So, secretly, I think Dr. M.  and everyone else were amused, although they could never let us know that.  As far as I know the incident didn’t get out among the local community where the field school was held, and so Dr. M.’s reputation was not ruined.  He seemed quick to forgive and the following fall semester, gave me my first student job in his archaeology lab.  He continued to be Doug’s graduate student advisor and mentor him on to a PhD in Anthropology.

Are you wondering what my parents thought about all this?  Yes, I did tell them.  The Thanksgiving holiday after this summer, I brought Doug home, to Pewee Valley, Kentucky, to meet my family.  We arrived in the late afternoon.  As Doug sat down at the kitchen table, my mother casually asked him if he’d like a cold beer.  “Sure”, he said, “Thanks.”  She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Cook’s beer, which she handed to him.  It took him a few seconds to realize the joke.  My mom had a great sense of humor!  She must have gone all over town to find Cook’s beer, because I had never remembered seeing it around in our part of the state.

Doug and I married a few years after this unfortunate incident.  We think we have a “first date” story that few can top.  

-Mary

p.s. I've never gotten in trouble since..... not even a parking fine or speeding ticket!

p.s.s. I found the paperwork I had kept.  The fine was $35, I was in possession of $22 cash, so I was close to being able to pay the fine.  Certainly it was probably illegal to have kept us in jail overnight for inability to pay a traffic violation in cash on the spot!  I write this today 40 year after the event!  Still married, still in love, and now grandparents!!

Massac County Courthouse and Jail in Metropolis, IL, with statue of Superman.

Doug and I being pelted with rice after our wedding in 1981.  Note the six-pack of Cook's beer that we were given as a gift.