72-1703 WHALEN, Norman Matthew, 1920- COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE CENTRAL SAN

72-1703 WHALEN, Norman Matthew, 1920- COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE CENTRAL SAN
72-1703
WHALEN, Norman Matthew, 1920COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE CENTRAL SAN
PEDRO DRAINAGE, ARIZONA.
The University of Arizona, Ph.D., 1971
Anthropology
University Microfilms, A XEROX Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan
^
COPYRIGHTED
BY
NORMAN MATTHEW WHALEN
1971
iii
THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEEN MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED
COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE CENTRAL SAN PEDRO
DRAINAGE, ARIZONA
by
Norman Matthew Whalen
A Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of the
DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY
In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements
For the Degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
In the Graduate College
THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA
19 7 1
THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA
GRADUATE COLLEGE
I hereby recommend that this dissertation prepared under my
direction by
entitled
Norman Matthew Whalen
Cochise Culture Sites In the Central
San Pedro Drainage, Arizona.
be accepted as fulfilling the dissertation requirement of the
degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
( /Q • C> . WtyldUQ
Dissertation Directorfl
Q
IW, /f7/
Dafle
'
After inspection of the final copy of the dissertation, the
folloxjing members of the Final Examination Committee concur in
its approval and recommend its acceptance:""
\axmi
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This approval and acceptance is contingent on the candidate's
adequate performance and defense of this dissertation at the
final oral examination. The inclusion of this sheet bound into
the library copy of the dissertation is evidence of satisfactory
performance at the final examination.
Please Note:
Some pages have very light
type. Filmed as received.
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STATEMENT BY AUTHOR
This
requirements
is deposited
rowers under
dissertation has been submitted in partial fulfillment of
for an advanced depree at The University of Arizona and
in the University Library to be made available to bor­
rules of the Library.
Brief quotations from this dissertation are allowable without
special permission, provided that accurate acknowledgment of source
is made. Requests for permission for extended quotation from or
reproduction of this manuscript in whole or in part may be granted by
the copyright holder.
SIGNED:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Cochise Culture was first described by E. B. Sayles 30
years ago in a report based, upon excavations in southeastern Arizona.
As a culture it spanned an extraordinarily long interval in time.
Its
earliest manifestations were allegedly contemporaneous with extinct
megafauna of the terminal Pleistocene, while at the more recent end of
the spectrum, it ended with the transition to sedentary agricultural
village life.
Chronologically the Cochise Culture survived at least
7,000 years and probably longer.
But apart from the pioneering work
of Sayles in the latter 1930's little deliberate effort seems to have
been directed to a study of this cultural phenomenon.
Where Cochise
Culture sites have been encountered and excavated, the work was usually
peripheral to a research program focusing on other problems.
The
present study represents an attempt to partially offset this neglect.
It concentrates on the probable ran?;e of activities Cochise people
participated in during the latter stages of their residence in the
central San Pedro valley, and suggests the forces that contributed to
a shift in subsistence technology from one concerned primarily with
gathering to one dedicated to agriculture.
In my study of the Cochise Culture I owe a debt of gratitude
to several people.
I wish to thank Mr. E. B. Sayles, who visited some
of the sites, examined artifacts recovered from others, and made
available to me his notes, diagrams, and personal reflections on
iv
V
problems relating to the Cochise Culture.
His counsel and encourage­
ment are deeply aporeciated.
For their generous help during the field work, I am particu­
larly indebted to three people.
These include Mr. Kenneth Combs and
Mr. H. A, "Tony" Luebbermannand his wife Susan, all of Tucson.
Ken
Combs spent more than a score of Saturdays at my side in the arduous
task of removing hundreds of spiny, thorny cactus plants from the
sites and in laying down the grid pattern.
In this we were assisted
by Tony and Susan who collaborated most generously and faithfully.
In the computer analysis of the lithic material, I acknowledge
with gratitude the cheerful help of Larry Manire and Dr. Alan B.
Humphrey, statistician attached to The University of Arizona College
of Medicine.
Larry was indispensible in devising a coding system for
the lithics, in having corresponding IBM cards punched, and in sub­
mitting them to a series of computations and factor analyses.
Dr.
Humphrey's lucid understanding of the archaeological problems, his
keenness in interpreting and evaluating computer runs, and his in­
genuity in suggesting pertinent programs and approaches, contributed
decisively to the final results incorporated in this study.
Finally I wish to thank the members of my dissertation com­
mittee — Dr. William A. Longacre, Dr. Enil W. Haury, and Dr. Arthur
J. Jelinek — for the valuable suggestions and guidance they provided
during the long months this study was being tediously composed.
As
each chapter was finished and distributed, the committee members made
constructive, critical appraisals that enhanced the quality of the
text and the presentation of detail.
Those emendations assured a more
readable and coherent report endowed with greater accuracy.
I may add
that the coiranittee members were genuinely cooperative and always
available to discuss any aspect of their critique with me.
I am
deeply indebted to them.
It would be naive to suppose that the last word has been said
on the Cochise Culture.
Some of the problems referred to in this
study, e.g., the relationship of the Sulphur Spring Stage to extinct
Pleistocene megafauna, are still far from solution.
In view of its
antiquity and its duration, the Cochise Culture is surely entitled to
a more thorough investigation than has been undertaken so far. This
presupposes a program with a research design focusing on problems
pivotal to the Cochise Culture.
Eventually we may hope such a program
will be formulated that will verify, modify or discard the inferences
and conclusions made in this study.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
viii
LIST OF TABLES
x
ABSTRACT
1.
xiii
INTRODUCTION
1
2. THE DESERT CULTURE
5
Desert Culture Concept
Climatic Conditions
Palynological Evidence
Interpretations of the Desert Culture
Summary of the Desert Culture
3.
• U.
f>
13
19
28
55
THE COCHISE CULTURE
63
COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE SAN PEDRO VALLEY
103
5.
LITHIC ANALYSIS AND STATISTICAL ASSESSMENT
138
6.
CONCLUSIONS
17U
LIST OF REFERENCES
231
I
vii
. *
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Figure
Page
1. Double Adobe, Locale 6
73
2. Double Adobe, Locale A
75
3.
Double Adobe, Locale C
76
U.
Map of Locales A, B, C, and D at Double Adobe
77
J>.
Double Adobe, Locale D
79
6. Profile of Cazador site G.P. Pearce 8:10 (Ariz. FF:10:5)
7.
8.
9.
83
Profile of Sulphur Spring Stage at G.P. Pearce 8:10
(Ariz. FF:10:5)
8U
Profile of Sulphur Sprint; Stage and Cazador site
G.P. Pearce 8:21
86
Map of Central San Pedro Valley
In
pocket
10.
Edge outline and edge arc
121
11.
Edge angle calibration
122
12.
Artifact distribution on Site 39
In
pocket
13.
Artifact distribution on Site b$
In
pocket
llu
Artifact distribution on Site U6
In
pocket
15•
Artifact distribution on Site 52
In
pocket
16.
Artifact distribution on Site 58
In
pocket
viii
LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS—Continued
Figure
Pace
17.
Artifact distribution on Site 6£
.. In
pocket
18.
Artifact distribution on Site 66
In
pocket
19.
Artifact distribution on Site 70
In
pocket
20. Artifact distribution on Site 77 . .
In
pocket
21. Artifact distribution on Site 88
In
pocket
22.
Artifact distribution on Site 89
In
pocket
23.
Artifact distribution on Site 90 ....
In
pocket
LIST OF TABLES
Table
1.
Page
Four locales at Double Adobe site
.......
80
2. Sulphur Spring and Cazador sites on Whitewater Draw ...
82
3. Fauna at Cochise Culture sites
9U
U. Flora at Cochise Culture sites
.
99
5. Site description and lithic quantity
107
6. Distribution of lithics in selected Montane and Riverine
sites equalized at 33 percent
109
7. Finished lithics by type and site
113
8.
Ground and manufacturing lithics by type and site .... lilt
9. Lithic densities of sites in Table 6
116
10.
Average lithic densities for groups of sites in Table 6 . 117
11.
Percentage of material per site
119
12.
IBM Card Code
123
13.
Percentage distribution of lithics in Table 6 .
132
111.
Chi-square or total lithic density in Table 7 ...... 133
1^. Flake-tool ratios
136
16.
Chi-square of flake-tool ratio
137
17.
Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs 7 and 9 . 1U6
18. Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs 10 and 12
lh8
19.
Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs U4 and 17
Hi9
20.
Clusters generated, by "V" analysis in Programs 19 and 20
l£l
x
xi
LIST OF TABLES—Continued
Table
21.
Page
Program 20, "V" analysis of correlations of variables
with oblique cluster domain (rotated oblique factor
coefficients)
l£6
22.
Program 20, "V" analysis of variables in clusters .. .
157
23.
Program 20, "0" analysis of cluster score matrix of
variables
158
Program 20, "0" analysis of score means of 0-tyoes
ordered by score patterns (sectors of score space) .
159
Program 20, "0" analysis of 0-type (core type) member­
ship table
162
Rejects in "0" analysis with O-means of 0-types ordered
by score patterns
163
27.
Rejects in "0" analysis with factor score of clusters .
163
28.
Program 18, "V" analysis of variables in clusters (2U
variables, 12 sites)
16U
Program 18, "0" analysis of O-means of 0-types (core
types)
I6h
Program 18, "0" analysis of 0-type (core type) member­
ship table
165
Program 19, "V" analysis of variables in clusters (2U
variables, 28 subsites)
166
Program 19, "0" analysis, O-means of 0-types (core
types) .
166
Program 19, "0" analysis 0-types (core type) membership
table
167
3lw
Program 20, "0" analysis, O-means of 0-types .....
167
35.
Program 9, O-means of 0-types; factor score of
variables (3 variables, 12 sites)
170
Program 9, 0-type membership table
170
2k»
25.
26.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
36.
LIST OF TABLES—Continued
Table
37•
38.
Page
Program 16, O-means of O-types; factor scores of
variables (6 variables, 28 subsites)
171
Program 16, 0-type (core type) membership table ....
171
39/ Factor scores of variables on sites and subsites
. ..
173
UO.
Edge angles of scrapers
177
111.
Distribution of lithic materials used for inferring
function of sites
179
Suggested functional use of stone tools and degrees of
edge angles
180
U3»
Functional activities at sites
185
UU.
Campsite classification
1*2.
.....
199
ABSTRACT
From the surfaces of 12 Cochise Culture sites located in the
100 square mile area lying between the Whetstone Mountains and the
San Pedro River in southeastern Arizona, lithic artifacts were re­
covered for analysis and study.
Six of the sites were situated in a
hillside ecozone and six nearer the river.
In each ecozone, three
sites were large and three small. The objective was to determine the
functional activities performed at each site and areas within sites
where specific activities took place.
To achieve that goal, the arti­
facts were classified and submitted to a series of factor analysis
programs in a CDC 61*00 computer operation, designed to isolate several
tool kits or assemblages whose components were most highly correlated
among themselves.
The tool kits were then successively rotated against
each site and subsite (geographical subdivision of a site) to determine
in a hierarchical order expressed in terms of factor scores tool kits
and site areas most closely associated.
The probable functional uses
for different types of tools within each tool kit suggested the
activities enacted on a site as a whole or on any of its constituent
parts, i.e., on subsites.
On that basis, sites and subsites were
classified as base camps or work camps utilized in the pursuit of
maintenance or extractive tasks.
In addition, problems relating to the Cochise Culture were
discussed and evaluated.
These include the enigmatic association of
xiii
xiv
Sulphur Spring artifacts with extinct Pleistocene megafauna; the posi­
tion of the Cazador Stage in the Cochise sequence; and the circum­
stances surrounding the introduction of agriculture into the Southwest.
CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
For nearly a century the Southwest has been recognized as a
focal center of anthropological research and study.
The warm, dry
climate was ideally suited for the remarkable preservation of archae­
ological remains in an area where indigenous cultures of prehistoric
times had attained a sophisticated level of material and social ex­
pression.
Ensconced on mesas and plateaus overlooking verdant valleys,
or perched on almost inaccessible cliffs of remote canyons, reposed
the pueblos and ruins of a bygone age.
Like gaunt sentinels surveying
the landscape, those masonry and adobe monuments attested to the exist­
ence in the forgotten past of societies with architectural propensi­
ties not unlike those fostered by Pueblo Indians of the present, who
provided a living laboratory for comparison and research between the
ethnographic present and the archaeological past.
The influx of iinmigrants into the Southwest in the decades
following the Civil War opened up for exploration and settlement many
areas hitherto unvisited or at best scantily known.
This led to the
discovery of those imposing vestiges of prehistory, stimulating in­
terest and speculation into the times and customs of their original
occupants.
Among early investigators in the archaeological and ethno­
logical frontiers of the Southwest, the names of Adolph Bandelier,
1
2
Frank Cushing, Wesley Powell, Jesse Fewkes, Cosmos Mindeleff, and
Matilda Cox Stevenson, stood prominent.
Their pioneer work revealed
the vast potentiality and opportunity for research in the Southwest,
which became the training ground for more than one generation of
American anthropologists after the turn of the century.
Outstanding
in the first generation of Southwestern archaeologists after 1900 were
Alfred V. Kidder, N. C, Nelson, and Leslie Spier, who introduced order
and system in archaeological excavation and broad cultural relation­
ships in their interpretation. Few areas in the New World have been
so thoroughly examined and so minutely dissected as the Southwest, and
yet, even today, after years of intensive study by a phalanx of dedi­
cated scholars, the rich archaeological resources of the area are far
from exhausted.
The Southwest is a particularly rewarding region for archaeolo­
gical investigation since its cultural antecedents recede backward in
time to the last glacier when extinct fauna of the terminal Pleistocene
roamed the area, at times pursued and hunted by Early Man.
Mammoth,
camel, horse and bison kill sites have been encountered in Arizona, New
Mexico, Colorado and Oklahoma (Haury 1953s Haury, Say'les and Wasley
1959j Henunings 1970j Sayles and Antevs 19U1} Figgins 1933; Cotter 1937,
1938J Leonhardy 1966). Additional evidence of Early Man preserved in
caves and rock shelters confirm the antiquity of man in the area (Har­
rington 1933; Haury 1950; Heizer 1951; Heizer and Krieger 1956; Jen­
nings 1957).
The archaeological record documents the presence of man
in the Southwest for at least 11,000 years, and details his cultural
3
progression from a Big Game Hunter to a sedentary agriculturist.
The
time span allotted to Big Game hunting of Pleistocene megafauna in the
Southwest was not a lengthy one, since many species became extinct
about 9,000 B.C. (Mehringer 1967b: 2li9; Martin 1967: 89, 111). Their
demise initiated a shift in subsistence technology to a more intensive
gathering and collecting economy supplemented by hunting smaller
species of game.
Early investigators in the Southwest concentrated their in­
terests and their efforts around the more exotic pueblo and cliff
dwelling ruins that had been abandoned in late prehistoric times.
Continued research led to the discovery and definition of three major
cultural traditions in the Southwest:
the Hohokam.
the Anasazi, the Mogollon, and
But antedating those developments and spanning the
longest interval of human occupation in the Southwest -- from the time
of the Big Game Hunters almost to the time of Christ, and in some
places even later — were the hunting and gathering societies of
Desert Culture affiliation whose pattern of life revolved around a
seasonal cycle of foraging subsistence.
In southeastern Arizona this
adaptation was recognized and described by Sayles (19U1) as the Cochise
Culture.
It persisted with few significant variations for over 7,000
years•
The Cochise Culture represented a regional manifestation of
the more widespread and generalized Desert Culture, that blanketed
much of the West for many millenia, with local adaptations conforming
to diverse ecological niches in which they occurred.
Since this paper
is addressed to an elucidation of the Cochise Culture in one area of
its occurrence ~ the San Pedro Valley of southeastern Arizona — it
would be appropriate to examine in detail the more generic Desert CuL
ture as preliminary to a discussion of its local variant and repre­
sentative in the Southwest.
CHAPTER 2
THE DESERT CULTURE
Desert Culture Concept
One of the earlier references to the existence of a widespread
Desert Culture appeared in a preliminary report issued by Jesse
Jennings in 19f>3 describing the progress of excavations then being
undertaken at Danger Cave in Utah.
To Jennings, the Desert Culture
represented the adaptive response of small social groups to an alleg­
edly arid environment.
The adaptation in its economic aspect took the
form of gathering and collecting tubers, seeds, berries and nuts,
supplemented by hunting small and large game animals and by fishing
if the occasion warranted. The artifacts from Danger Cave resembled
those from other early cultural assemblages in or near the Great Basin
such as Lake Mohave, San Dieguito, Borax Lake, Pinto, Amargosa,
Cochise and Fort Rock Cave in Oregon.
Radiocarbon dates from sheep
dung and wood in level I hover in the vicinity of 9,000 B.C. as a
probable time for the first human occupation (Jennings 1957: $3-5ht
60-93).
In introducing the term "Desert Culture," Jennings (1957:
207-208) wrote:
For the moment I specifically refrain from suggesting the
ultimate origins of the Danger Cave manifestations of what
I am tentatively calling a generalized Desert Culture, nor
do I assert it is older or younger than the sites where
comparable data occur .... It seems to me that a more
scientific and defensible procedure would be to lump all
5
6
the Basin remains I have listed above (purely lithic sites -Pinto, Mohave, Borak Lake, etc. — are omitted as incomplete
and therefore not precisely comparable, but probably should
be included) calling it the Desert Culture.
Geographically the Desert Culture extended over a large area
which could be partitioned into three regions, all manifesting Desert
Culture affiliation.
Those regions were:
the Great Basin or core
area itself, comprising nearly all of Nevada with parts of western
Utah and southeastern California; the northern region of Oregon and
Idaho; and finally the variants that ranged from the intermontane
valleys of Arizona and New Mexico southward to the border states of
old Mexico.
Physiographically, the Great Basin differs from the two
other regions.
It consists of a shallow depression ensconced between
the Rockies to the East, the Sierra Nevada and Cascade mountains in
California and Oregon to the west and northwest, with the escarpments
of the Columbia and Colorado plateaus to the north and south respec­
tively.
The flat trough of the Great Basin is punctuated by a series
of mountain chains oriented along a north-south axis interspersed with
valleys occasionally made verdant by nearby springs and lakes.
Due
to elevated ranges and plateaus surrounding it, the Great Basin lacks
an external drainage system, unlike the rivers of Oregon and the South­
west that empty into the Pacific Ocean or into the Gulfs of California
or Mexico.
This topographic peculiarity, combined with high tempera­
ture and low precipitation rates, funneled the scant rainfall that did
descend into lakes which often evaporated leaving behind barren playas
scattered over a dessicated landscape.
Where water accumulated into
permanent lakes, it contained a high saline content, Great Salt Lake
being a conspicuous example of this phenomenon.
Collectively the Great Basin and its two adjoining regions were
designated the Intermontane or Basin-Plateau Province, or simply the
Desert West (Jennings 196U: 1U9; Steward 1938: xi).
In much of the
Desert West similar plant and animal species flourished, from xerophytic plants and grasses on valley floors, to pine, juniper and
spruce trees at higher elevations.
Mammals, birds and reptiles usually
associated with these and intervening ecological zones occur in their
normally expected habitats.
Despite this apparent homogeneity in biota,
availability of potential food resources in the Desert west fluctuated
according to rainfall, temperature, altitude and season.
Since seed
harvesting constituted the principal subsistence activity in a desert
environment, and seed bearing plants matured at different times in
diverse ecological zones, usually from early summer to early fall when
pine nuts ripened (Steward 1938: 19-20), then tool kits reflecting
gathering and processing activities appear in many Desert Culture
sites. Tool collections from sites other than those conceined with
plant processing suggest hunting, tanning of hides, tool manufacture,
and the whole range of human activities whose nature may be inferred
from the type and distribution of stone tools, horn, bone and antler
implements, textiles and basketry.
Understandably, subsistence based
on harvesting and collecting with some hunting entailed frequent move­
ment from one area to another, limiting the size of participating bands
and restricting the degree of elaboration possible in their social
8
organization.
In a few sites, located near a permanent body of water,
marine-like adaptation took place in which fishing and the collecting
of water fowl predominated, as, for example, around the Humboldt Lake
shoreline.
In either case, whether exposed to the rigors of a harsh
inhospitable desert or encamped by the richer resources of a lush
marshland, some basic ingredients of a Desert Culture tool kit were
usually present — scrapers, cordage, awls, baskets, projectile points,
and that ubiquitous diagnostic, the milling stones; metate and mano.
At Desert Culture sites the preponderant quantity of milling
stones along with baskets, planes, scrapers and choppers, reveals the
importance attached to plant gathering and processing, while an assort­
ment of projectile points, knives, nets, cordage and scrapers demon­
strate interest and skill in the procurement of game.
Baskets of many
shapes were used from very early times as convenient receptacles for
collecting and storing plant foods. Similarly, bone awls and needles
were efficient implements for converting animal skins into protective
clothing and shelter. Fibers from certain plants, yucca or bulrush
(Jennings 1957: 226} Haury 19^0: 392-396), for instance, were fashioned
into nets for trapping fish or small game, or utilized to make sandals.
Fish hooks, fishing nets and duck decoys occur in lakeshore and river­
ine areas where exploitation of aquatic resources could be profitably
pursued (Davis 1966: l£0j Jennings 196U: 160).
While the Desert Culture suggests a foraging and to a lesser
degree a hunting economy that Jennings (196b: 1^0) felt changed very
little in the Great Basin itself during the course of ten millenia,
he did recognize in it three regional groupings corresponding to the
three broad geographical areas of Desert Culture affiliation.
First
were the Nevada and California complexes in the core area of the Great
Basin; next, the Cochise Culture of Arizona and New Mexico with attenu
ations in the northern part of old Mexico; and finally, the Utah Fre­
mont Culture and Oregon Cave manifestations. The oldest of the three
seemed to be the Oregon-Utah variant where the Desert Culture pre­
sumably had its origin (Spencer and Jennings 1965: hi). Since the
Desert Culture represents an adaptation to local environmental condi­
tions, then variations could be expected over broad geographical zones
Despite these differences, however, the basic substratum underlying
all participating cultures was the successful exploitation of a
challenging, parsimonious and dry environment by small nomadic groups.
Sedentarism came with agriculture and the establishment of villages.
With those changes also came a proliferation of material items in the
cultural inventory suggesting a greater capacity for specialization
and a wider circuit of trade.
In the Great Basin, little change in
material culture could be registered during the whole sequence of
deposition in Danger Cave.
Although in its earliest levels the Desert Culture was con­
temporaneous with the Llano and Folsom complexes, about 9,000 B.C.
and later (Jennings 1957! 281; Spencer and Jennings 1965: 1*0), it did
not become widespread until around 8,000-7,000 B.C. to 2,000 B.C.
(Jennings 196U: 153; Spencer and Jennings 1965: hO).
By the latter
date it had begun to fragment into localized, complex, non-desert
cultures especially in the Southwest which witnessed a gradual evolu­
tion through a 2,000 year interval (2,000 B.C. to A.D. l) from a
hunting and gathering society to a pithouse-agricultural-pottery form
of existence.
In other areas it retained its hold until about A.D. 1
(the emergence of a riverine adapted enclave on the Columbia Plateau
is an example, Daugherty 1962: lU7j Jennings 1961*: 163), while in the
Great Basin it persisted almost unchanged up to the mid-19th century.
The time range between 8,000-7,000 B.C. and 2,000 B.C. has been re­
ferred to as the Desert or Western Archaic to correspond temporally
to the Archaic tradition on the Plains and in the East (Griffin 196lir
22£j Wedel 196b: 198; Spencer and Jennings 1965: UO).
Jennings proposed the concept of the Desert Culture as a means
to bring together in a synthesis the disparate regional cultures found
in the West and havinc some common features.
As he says (196U: 152-
153):
The term must be understood as a general one, implying not an
invariable complex of archaeological traits or a period of
time but a cultural stage wherein wide exploitation of avail­
able species is a diagnostic attribute. True, there are
artifacts of specific sorts from region to region, but the
concept has ecological and culture-focal implications as well
as strictly artifactual ones.
In Desert Culture societies the exigencies of the food quest
and the nomadic pattern of seasonal exploitation pursued, excluded
the formation of a complex social organization.
Exploitation of plant
resources, more dependable and more predictable than game, imposed an
ambulatory way of life on a population whose movements were influenced
and in a sense controlled by the seasonal maturation cycle of edible
11
plants.
Gathering by its nature restricts the size of social units to
the most basic form of societal life embodied in the nuclear or ex­
tended family, called "primary band" by Steward (1968: 331). While
single or extended family bands were the normal units of social struc­
ture in the Great Basin, Steward (1938s 237) observed that once a year
social groups composed of many bands would assemble in predetermined
places to participate in a fall festival that lasted five days.
Concomitant with gathering was the task of hunting.
Among
Great Basin bands, communal rabbit hunts took place during the fall
festival.
Also in the fall of the year, antelope hunts were staged
but only once in eight or ten years so as not to deplete the herd
beyond recovery (Steward 1938: 3k? 38-39> 195; Downs 1966: 27, 31).
Deer were usually intercepted by ambush along well travelled trails
in the fall when descending from the mountains to warmer valleys, or
in the spring when returning to their mountain habitat (Steward 1938:
36).
Under the restricted conditions of gathering, the size of bands
could seldom exceed 30 individuals, according to Jennings' estimate
(195?: 276), which in turn limited the degree of social development
to a minimum.
On the other hand it would be misleading to assume that the
demands created by the seasonal round of gathering suppressed all
innovative activity or deprived the social group of leisure time.
Finding food was indeed the primary concern, but that did not neces­
sarily impose a sense of urgency and anxiety.
If the ethnographic
record is any criterion of hunting and gathering societies who today
12
live in environments more marginal than those encountered by prehis­
toric societies, then two factors stand out:
the total potential of its environment.
(l) no society exploits
Certain foods will be selected
while other available food products are ignored, for reasons of cul­
tural bias, personal distaste, difficulties of procurement and pro­
cessing i and (2) plant food has the advantage of being more predictable
in obtaining than game, and it may be amassed and stored in sufficient
quantity without infringing on time needed for rest and recreation.
Among Bushmen, a woman may gather enough in one day to feed her family
for three days (Lee 1968: 37).
While an exception to this general
rule that no society exploits its entire environment may be made for
the Eskimo, it is only because the Eskimo present a unique case.
In
a comparison between Bushmen and Eskimo subsistence patterns, Lee
(1968: UO-lil) wrote:
Were the Bushmen to be deprived of their vegetable food
sources, their life would become much more arduous and pre­
carious. This lack of plant foods, in fact, is precisely
the situation among the Netsilik Eskimo, reported by Balikci.
The Netsilik and other Central Arctic peoples are perhaps
unique in the almost totsl absence of vegetable foods in
their diet. This factor, in combination with the great
cyclical variation in the numbers and distribution of Arctic
fauna, makes Eskimo life the most precarious human adapta­
tion on earth. In effect, the kinds of animals that are
"luxury goods" to many hunters and gatherers, are to the
Eskimos, the absolute necessities of life. However, even
this view should not be exaggerated, since most of the
Eskimos in historic times have lived south of the Arctic
Circle and many of the Eskimos at all latitudes have de­
pended primarily on fishing, which is a much more reliable
source of food than is the hunting of land and sea mammals.
In the post-Pleistocene prior to the advent of agriculture,
gatherers could concentrate their energies in areas having the most
13
economically rewarding environments.
But precisely because they were
optimum areas, they were amonp; the first to be appropriated and uti­
lized in the civilizational process.
In contrast, areas to which
gatherers of today must address themselves are indeed marginal in that
their resources are more limited than those available to earlier
gatherers and they are truly undesirable as areas nobody wants, nobody
contests, and most avoid because of their bleak harshness.
They are
left, in consequence, to small gathering bands by default (Freeman
1968: 261*).
Climatic Conditions
Paramount to an understanding of the Desert Culture is an
appreciation of the climatic conditions that prevailed during the
Terminal Pleistocene and post-Pleistocene.
The onset of the Two
Creeks Interstadial precipitated the retreat of the Mankato ice sheet
about 10,000 B.C. (Broecker and Farrand 1963: 800). The return of
more moderate conditions lasted about one millenium before it was in­
terrupted by the Valders Ice advance whose eruption can be traced as
early as 9,900-9,700 B.C. (Broecker and Farrand 1963: 796, 799) when
a forest near Two Creeks, Wisconsin, was inundated by rising lake
waters hemmed in by the advancing ice mass (Bryan and Gruhn 196U: 310,
312).
The Valders glaciation meached its maximum extent in the
vicinity of Milwaukee by 8,700 B.C, (Bryan and Gruhn 1961;: 310;
Broecker and Farrand 1963: 798). An influx of warm air masses trig­
gered its recession about 7>!?00 B.C. and although a temporary halt
took place at Cochrane, Ontario, the retreat had resumed by 6,000 B.C.
(Haynes 1969: Fig. 2, 711) and continued to its present limits.
In discussing evidence of glaciation it is well to distinguish
time units from geological units recorded in stratigraphical columns
denoting actual events, such as glacial advances and retreats.
units are denoted as ages; geological units as stapes.
Time
Ages refer to
time; stages to climatic events that transpired in time (Bryan and
Gruhn 196U: 310).
In depicting Pleistocene and post-Pleistocene
weather as inferred from geological deposits especially varve counts,
Antevs proposed three distinct stages each with temperature and pre­
cipitation ranges neatly encapsulated into units of time (Antevs 1955*
322-329).
Known in the aggregate as the Neothermal, the earliest of
these stages was the Anathermal with a time horizon between 8,000 and
5,500 B.C.
In its earlier stage the Anathermal supported a moist and
cool climate but one becoming drier and warmer, causing the evapora­
tion and disappearance of many Great Basin lakes. The following Altithermal lasted for three and a half millenia during which a warm, dry
climate blanketed the Desert West.
Finally the Medithermal appeared
about 2,000 B.C. with a climate moderately warm and somewhat arid,
hardly distinguishable from that enjoyed today. This trichotomy
became a tool for dating prehistoric sites although it is now known
(Aschmann 1958: 30-31> 33-35) that temperature curves were in no way
constant in the Desert West, even during the same peological interval.
The beginning of warmer and drier conditions, calibrated with
the Anathermal, did not proceed uniformly and everywhere at once.
Weather became warmer in different places at different times with
maximum aridity developing earlier in the southern part of the Great
Basin and becoming progressively warmer later on in the northern part
(Bryan and Gruhn 196Lis 312).
With warmer weather came less precipi­
tation and more evaporation.
Radiocarbon dates for the highest
shoreline at Lake Mohave cluster around 8,01*0 B.C. and 7,680 B.C.
(Bryan and Gruhn 196U: 312-313; Warren and DeCosta 196U: 206-207),
during which water levels were presumably at their peak immediately
preceding the Valders retreat.
At Wilson Butte Cave in Idaho, however,
the warming trend was not noticeable until U,£00 B.C. "with the
approach of the maximum of the Altithermal period" (Gruhn 1961: 120).
In correlating changes in climate with glacial epochs Antevs
was undoubtedly correct, provided such changes were not extended to
all areas of the Desert West at the same time. This, unfortunately,
is what Antevs seemed to do.
Also, if the Anathermal began about
8,000 B.C. as Antevs maintained (195>!?: 322) then evidently it was
not post-Valders nor post-Cochrane, but coincided with the presence
and eventual retreat of both those glacial periods. Yet Antevs
stipulated that the Anathermal followed the Valders and Cochrane
(Antevs 1955t 322), a position most geologists would contest.
another respect he miscalculated.
In
During the post-Pleistocene the
Stansbury shoreline of Lake Bonneville in Utah dropped 200 feet, ex­
posing the entrance to Danger Cave (Bryan and Gruhn 196h: 310-311).
Coinciding with this subsidence, water levels at Lake Lahontan in
Nevada receded sufficiently to make Leonard Rockshelter accessible
16
for occupation (Bryan 1965: 35; DeCosta and Warren 1967: 3U).
Antevs
attributed this lake contraction in the Great Basin to the ValdersCochrane recession and the onset of the Anathermal about 8,000 B.C.
(Antevs 1955: 322).
Radiocarbon dates conflict with Antevs' view.
Radiocarbon dates for Danger Cave at the base of the stratigraphygravitate around 8,320 B.C. and 9,201 B.C., the former derived from
sheep dung by gas technique; the latter from uncharred wood by solid
carbon.
Those dates were obtained from Sand 1, Level I, below the
earliest occupation, although chips of obsidian and of jasper did
occur in the sand (Jennings 1957: 5U). The earliest occupational
surface, separating Sand 1 from Sand 2 of Level I, has a date of 8,U50
B.C. from uncharred wood, determined by gas technique.
In Sand 2 of
Level I above the occupational surface uncharred sheep dung yielded
dates of 9,050 B.C. and 9,503 B.C., the first by gas and the other by
solid carbon calculation.
Uncharred wood in the same stratum — Sand
2 of Level I — produced a date of 8,1j50 B.C. by gas technique
(Jennings 1957: 5U, 60, 93).
The general average for occupation at
Danger Cave seems to be in the neighborhood of 9,000 B.C.
The date
from Leonard Rockshelter, based on bat guano, yields a figure of
9,2li8 B.C. (Haynes 1967b: 270).
Both sets of dates from the two
localities appear in close and harmonious synchronization.
These
dates clearly demonstrate that lacustrine levels in each area fell
rapidly prior to the Valders-Cochrane recession.
In fact, lake de­
clines seem to have set in at the time of the Tvro Creeks Interstadial.
There is no reason to question the occupation of either site during
the Valders glaciationj on the contrary, occupation probably began
shortly before the Valders appeared and continued spasmodically
throughout its duration (Baumhoff and Heizer 1965: 698).
When dating archaeological sites on the basis of inferred cli­
matic conditions presumed to have existed during the period of occu­
pancy, each site must be evaluated as a discrete entity in itself.
What applies to one site in a region like the Southwest or the Great
Basin may not be true of all sites in the Southwest or Great Basin,
Climatic indicators, e.g., pollen or coprolites, recovered from one
site may provide data different from that retrieved from another site,
indicating climatic discrepancy between the two sites, yet both could
fall within the same time period in the same geographical region.
Climate varies with altitude, latitude, prevailing wind patterns, and
the topography of the terrain itself. The three thermal stages of
Antevs provide at best gross time scales in which cold or warm con­
ditions may be reasonably expected. The type of sediment ~ sand,
silt, gravel, etc. — and its entrapped faunal remains, such as mol­
luscs, bone, pollen, clearly segregate cold conditions from warm, and
humid conditions from dry.
In addition, coprolitic analysis enables
one to determine the species of plants consumed and to infer the
climate responsible for their growth.
In investigating paleoclimates
one cannot rely on temperature or total annual rainfall indices alone.
As Martin (1963b: I4) pointed out, the amount of summer rains relative
to those of winter is more crucial in appraising environmental con­
ditions and the vegetation the environment sustained than temperature
18
gradients by themselves.
Along similar lines, Aschmann (1958: 2b)
submitted some very cogent observations regarding paleoclimates.
He
asserted that: (l) nowhere in the Great Basin did geological or tec­
tonic disruptions of sufficient magnitude occur to disturb patterns
of air currents in the atmosphere in any appreciable way during the
past 25,000 yearsj (2) warm air transports and can discharge through
rain more moisture than cold airj (3) the formation of lakes, deserts
and glaciers depends upon the oscillations of climate, i.e., the
circulation of air masses, rather than the faulting or tilting of the
earth's surface.
In his recent study of the geology of the Tule
Springs area, Haynes (1967a: 82) concluded: "The Las Vegas valley has
been tectonically active at various times throughout the past 1*0,000
years, and local tilting has occurred, possibly as late as 1,000 years
ago;" (U) moist conditions could transform a desert environment into
a pluvial one, either by increased rainfall or by reduced evaporation,
the evaporation closely correlated to temperature; and (5) an increase
of moisture could introduce new plant and animal communities into an
environment previously closed or hostile to them.
Briefly, Aschmann (1958: 25) felt that rainfall patterns in­
fluenced the habitability of an area much more decisively than
fluctuations in temperature.
He maintained (Aschmann 1958: 25) that
higher temperatures afflicted the northern part of the Great Basin
with increased rainfall occasioned by hitrher elevations and by more
frequent penetration of the Pacific air currents; and the southern
part from storms generated by warm air transported from the Gulf of
19
Mexico (Aschmann 19£8: 28).
Aschmann challenged the tripartite divi­
sion of the Neothermal into discrete climatic and time units, since
such a division ignored significant meteorological fluctuations that
affected an area from one decade to the next, all within the same
thermal interval.
If modern climatic changes are any indication of
past environmental conditions, then it is certainly possible that
within the Altithermal more frequent summer rains could encroach into
a locality for a decade or more to be followed by a period of lesser
precipitation and more aridity.
This in turn could conceivably be
replaced by a resumntion of greater rainfall.
Since wet or dry situ­
ations could succeed each other alternately, one may not automatically
assume that the climate was exclusively dry or exclusively wet solely
on the basis of the thermal stage during which a site was occupied.
Palynological Evidence
From palynological evidence Martin (1963b: 3U-U8) corroborated
the views expressed by Aschmann with respect to the Southwest and the
effect of the summer Mexican monsoon on the climate and vegetation.
He defended the concept of a wet Altithermal, not as moist as the Anathermal to be sure, but wet nevertheless.
He could find no support in
the pollen record for a dry and arid Altithermal in the Southwest and
Mexican Plateau.
All the pollen evidence, particularly pine pollen,
confirms the existence of moist conditions during the Altithermal.
At Murray Springs, Arizona, the presence of cine pollen in sediments
whose initial and terminal dates have been ouestionably dated between
3,330 B.C. and 2,170 B.C. indicates continuous moist\ire (Mehrineer,
Martin and Haynes 1967: 790-792).
The high frequency of sedge and
cattail pollen at Murray Springs U,000 to 5,000 years ago suggests the
existence of ponds at that site but as Mehringer, Martin and Haynes
(1967? 796) are careful to point out in the concluding sentence:
"The
southern Arizona pollen record between 5>000 and 7,000 radiocarbon
years ago remains unknown as critically dated exposure of pollen
bearing sediments of this age have yet to be discovered."
At Double
Adobe III, likewise in Arizona, the presence of pine, juniper, sedge
and grass pollen, implying marsh and pond conditions, predominate in
a sediment dated 3,010 B.C. (Martin 1963b: 39) from a depositional
unit estimated to be approximately 5,000 years old, was classified
pine (Martin 1963b: h6, lt8).
At the Lehner site in southern Arizona
a pollen profile extending back over 11,000 years reveals little change
in climate beyond a 7-10 cm. increase in mean annual rainfall and a
3° to U° decrease in mean annual temperature from that of the present
(Mehringer and Haynes 1965: 23).
While the Great Basin and Mohave Desert were experiencing
diminished rainfall, that condition did not infiltrate into the South­
west, where according to Martin increased summer rains of the Mexican
monsoon converted an otherwise arid environment into one reasonably
moist.
According to Martin (1963b: 67) "There is no meteorological
justification for assuming that warm temperatures in high latitudes
during the Altithermal would enhance aridity in winter rain regions
of California and the Great Basin.
To extend the same paleoclimatic
model to summer rain regions of the Southwest and the adjacent Mexican
Plateau is to ignore the monsoon effect."
At the Malpais site in
Chihuahua, pollen extracted from the surface down to a depth below
that containing bones of extinct horse and bison, shows a consistency
in composition connoting climatic stability with no major change through
ten or more millenia (Martin 1963b: 39).
At that site, the deeper and
older the level, the fewer "cheno-aras" pollen recovered but the more
frequent the pine pollen.
and elm appeared.
At the horse and bison bone level, hickory
This level bore a remarkable resemblance to Double
Adobe I of Sulphur Spring age (Martin 1963b: 39).
The Malpais and Lehner sites, and Double Adobe I, despite the
distances separating them, furnish a picture of climatic constancy
with little variation discernible in the Southwest and Mexican Plateau
from Terminal Pleistocene and early post-Pleistocene to the present
time (Mehringer and Haynes 1965: 23; Martin and Mehringer 1965s WJO).
Pollen spectra from Naco and the Ventana Cave site in southern Arizona,
both exceeding 11,000 years in age, reveal the presence of vegetation
quite similar to that found today (Martin and Mehringer 196$: UUO).
If Martin is correct in his assessment of climate, then the
Southwest and Mexican Plateau enjoyed more rainfall than other parts
of the Desert West where a deteriorating arid climate caused some
depopulation of the Great Basin during the Altithermal.
In his
assessment of pollen from southern Nevada for the past 12,000 years,
Mehringer (1967a: 193) detected a"trend toward warmer and dryer con­
ditions from about 12,000 to 7,000 B.P.
By 7,000 B.P. the vegetation
of the Las Vegas Valley was probably much like the present lower
elevation Mohave Desert."
Pollen analyses from Tule Springs, Nevada,
San Augustin Plains, New Mexico, Crane Lake, Texas, and Potato Lake,
Arizona, show an increase in temperature and aridity immediately
following the glacial retreat (Martin and Mehringer 1965s UhO), corre­
sponding to an initial dry period from 8,500 B.C. to 6,000 B.C.,
followed possibly by a slightly moister but no warmer interval between
6,000 B.C. and 2,000 B.C.
This was the time of Antevs' Altithermal.
Once the barrier separating the glacial from the post-glacial period
had been bridged, wanner and drier weather intervened and subsequently
intensified in the Altithermal, particularly in the Great Basin and
the California desert.
The southern part of the Southwest may not
have undergone rising temperatures and the debilitating aridity of the
same intensity as that encountered in the Great Basin.
Substantial
summer rains presumably enabled Southwestern biota to survive unim­
paired during the Altithermal.
Not everyone would endorse the assumption of a wet Altithermal
advanced by Martin.
Bryan and Antevs conceived of an Altithermal
warmer and drier than the present climate in the Southwest. Antevs
(19!?!?: 328-329) referred to the Altithermal as the Long Drought, a
period he regarded as one characterized by warmth and aridity.
As
evidence of increasing dessication he indicated the low saline content
in Albert and Summer Lakes in Oregon, and in Owens Lake in Central
California, whose quantity of salt could have accumulated in U,000
years, that is, after they refilled, following the Altithermal.
Prior
to that time Antevs considered the lakes dry basins whose previous
salt residue had been removed by wind action or by burial.
Other
indications o.f a dry Altithermal were the disappearance of permanent
ice in the Western Mountains; the accumulation of caliche; and wind
and arroyo cutting in the Southwest.
In a later review of the Alti­
thermal, Antevs (1962: 195) maintained that aridity had denuded the
soil of its vegetational mantle.
As a conseauence, when intense sum­
mer rains, transported in large masses of warm moist air from the Gulf
of Mexico, cascaded on New Mexico and Arizona, the reduced vegetation
and plant litter "were unable to retain or retard the water masses of
sudden downpours, but permitted the water to rush off and gather into
raging torrents of great erosive power"(Antevs 1962: 195).
Antevs
(1962: 195) viewed caliche and dune formation, and the disappearance
of moisture requiring hickory, elm and birch as further evidence of
Altithermal aridity.
Bryan (1950: 126) also recognized a warm and dry
interval with arroyo cutting between 5,500 and 2,500 B.C., a time
range corresponding with the Altithermal suggested by Antevs.
Biota and hydrology of the Southwest are profoundly affected
by biseasonal precipitation patterns.
rains, others depend upon summer.
Some plants respond to winter
A scanty winter rain may leave
certain plants impoverished despite a subseouent high rate of summer
precipitation.
As winter plants were experiencing stress, summer
plants would be flourishing vigorously.
Sixty to 70 percent of total
rainfall in the Southwest and on the Mexican Plateau comes in the form
of summer rains (Martin 1963b: 3).
In Utah and southeastern Califor­
nia that percentage shifts in favor of winter rains. For this reason
corn, squash and beans, plants sensitive to summer rains, could grow
in the Southwest but not in such areas as Nevada, where reduced summer
rains were inadequate to support a horticultural economy (Martin 1963b:
U).
The summer rains that blanketed the Southwest came from Caribbean
air masses in the Gulf of Mexico flowing inland from the Bermuda High.
As Aschmann (19?8t 2I4) had remarked, those warm air masses contain a
relatively high percentage of moisture.
The moisture content dimin­
ishes as the air masses move over the continent, showering old Mexico,
Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, but depositing a lesser and lesser
amount of rain as the proceed over Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and south­
eastern California (Aschmann 1953: 2U; Martin 1963b: 3, U).
Those
summer rains, commonly called the Mexican monsoon, nourished plant
life whose pollen contributed to the prehistoric count.
In Altithermal
times, the landscape of the southern part of the Southwest resembled
the grassland and encinal with its variety of animal life found to
this day in Mexico east of the Sierra Madre (Martin 1963b: 68).
A
reduction in tree pollen counts from locations in the Great Basin, the
central Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Northwest seem to reflect the
effect of the Altithermal in those areas (Martin and Mehringer 196£:
UU3).
It is possible, of course, that the presence of pine pollen in
stratigraphic columns dating back to the Altithermal may be interpreted,
not as evidence for an increase of pine trees resulting from moist
conditions, but a decrease of desert foliage caused by drought.
Evidence in the Southwest on Altithermal climate appears to
be conflicting.
On the one hand, pine pollen count, on which Martin
relied most heavily, may not be too reliable an indicator of a wet
Altithermal.
Martin and Mehringer both acknowledge that:
Because of the nature of relative numbers, an increase in pine
pollen is by no means absolute proof of an increase in growth
of pine trees, and under a circumstance in which local pollen
production is reduced, conceivably as a result of unfavorable
climatic conditions, there could be a relative increase in the
amount of pine pollen received at the site of deposition. The
interpretation of slight changes in pine-pollen freauencies in
fossil-pollen records from the Southwest presents problems yet
to be resolved. In areas of varying relief where coniferous
forests are separated from deserts by a thousand or more
meters in elevation but only a few tens of kilometers in dis­
tance, a high percentage of wind-blown pine pollen may be
found in the modern pollen content of desert soils. The rela­
tive freouency of pine pollen increases with the reduction in
plant cover as one enters the desert. This is also true in
areas remote from montane forest. For example, the soil sur­
face of the Sonoran Desert at Yuma, in southwestern Arizona
about 110 km. from the nearest coniferous forest, contains a
higher percentage of pine pollen than do soil surface samples
of the desert grassland of southeastern Arizona, which is
surrounded by mountains with coniferous forests.
Thus an increase in pine-pollen percentages in an alluvial
pollen record from the desert grassland might mean either an
expansion of local forests and more moist conditions, as
Martin supposed, or a reduction in local plant cover, the
result of drought. Whatever later discoveries may reveal,
there is yet no clear evidence from the floodplain pollen
record that suggests "deserts on the march" or an Altithermal
climate in southern Arizona and New Mexico that was appreci^ hotter and drier than today's (Martin and Mehringer 1965:
On the other hand, Dick's (1965: 89) observations of the Bat Cave
climate seems to confirm the existence of the wet Altithermal advo­
cated by Martin.
Dick stated:
There are some evidences for a slightly higher rainfall in
the area during the Bat Cave occupation. The persistent
presence of Juglans ma.jor may mean that it once srew in the
vicinity. To the author's knowledge, the nearest walnut
trees at the present time are about 25 miles away in the
Tularosa Mountains. It could have been traded in just as
26
easily. But the presence of Typha latifolia in levels II and
III and Scirpus validus, Scirpus Olneyi and Populus tremuloides
in level II can only reasonably be explained by a nearby body
of water. At the present time, poolr> of water remain on the
playa for many days during the summer rainy season. A better
distribution of this rainfall throughout the year, together
with a slight increase in the average annual precipitation
would result in a permanent shallow lake on the playa in front
of Bat Cave. The number of acorn shells in stratum IV may
also indicate a higher precipitation and thus a greater abun­
dance of oak in the area at the time of the stratum IV occupa­
tion. The necessity for an adequate water supply during the
period of Bat Cave occupation must have meant a higher precipi­
tation, as there is no permanent source of water nearer than
the springs at T.U.T. Ranch and Jacks Peak about twelve miles
across the plain from Bat Cave.
What favors the interpretation of a moist Altithermal in the
Southwest is the consistency of pine pollen from the time of the
Terminal Pleistocene, when the climate was unouestionably moist,
through the Altithermal, with the pollen gradually diminishing.
A
noticeable reduction in pine pollen occurred between the end of the
Altithermal (2,000 B.C.) and the present, indicating a drier climate
now than during the Altithermal (Martin 1963b: 61).
In summary, while the pollen evidence is not yet complete nor
conclusive, it does suggest the existence of a wet Altithermal in the
Southwest at the same time that other regions of the Desert West were
suffering drought.
A change from the pluvial conditions of glacial
times to warmer and drier post-glacial climates took place rapidly
12,000 years ago in concert with the Two Creeks Interstadial.
While
the readvance of the ice cap in the Valders shortly before 9,000 B.C.
brought with it moister and colder weather, the effects of this incur­
sion seemed far less severe than those of previous elacial epochs.
That this is so, may be inferred from the pollen evidence collected
27
by Mehringer (1967a: 193) from southern Nevada suggesting warmer and
drier conditions between 10,000 B.C. and 5,000 B.C.
The retreat of
the Valders about 7,$00 B.C. was delayed temporarily at Cochrane but
resumed by 6,000 B.C. (Bryan and Gruhn 196U: 310).
During the Anather-
mal (8,000-5,^00 B.C.) climate once again became moderate with higher
temperatures but lower annual rainfall.
Lesser precipitation, however,
does not necessarily imply an arid situation.
The Anathermal was
warmer and drier only in contrast to the cold, damp glacial climate
that preceded it.
In the Great Basin and adjacent regions the tendency
toward warmth and dryness intensified, leadine into the Altithermal
which descended over much of the Desert West, not uniformly but sequen­
tially, proceedinj? from southerly to northerly latitudes.
In Martin's
interpretation advantageous summer rains fed by the Mexican monsoon
sustained a moist climate in the Southwest and. Mexican Plateau during
the Altithermal, population in the Great Basin reached its nadir at a
time when occupation of the Columbia Plateau to the north was at its
zenith.
Although aridity in the Great Basin at that time was most
oppressive, small groups survived at scattered oases, replenished by
springs or still extant lakes.
Meanwhile the Southwest basked in the
fairly stable weather it had experienced since the Terminal Pleisto­
cene.
Supported by summer rains, cultivation o^ corn and squash
diffused into the Southwest about 2,000 B.C., followed a thousand years
later (Martin and Schoenwetter I960: 33-3h; Dick 196£: 93-99, Table 13)
by beans.
By 2,000 B.C. climatic conditions reminiscent of the
present became established bringing more rainfall to the Great Basin
and to the Southwest (Martin 1963b: 63).
28
Interpretations of the Desert Culture
This seemingly long digression on paleoclimates in the Desert
West is not without relevance in appraising the interpretations and
revisions of the Desert Culture advanced in recent years by several
investigators.
The first of these to be considered is that of Wallace.
In an archaeological synthesis of the Southern California desert
Wallace (1962: 172-180) defined two major cultures that covered a
period of approximately 7,000 years. The earlier of these was the
Lake Mohave Complex which flourished between 7,000 and 5,000 B.C.
followed by a hiatus of 2,000 or more years after which the Pinto
Basin Culture appeared, lasting from 3,000 (2,500) B.C. to A.D. 1.
The hiatus between the end of the Lake Mohave manifestation and the
beginning of the Pinto Basin Industry was a period of extreme aridity,
corresponding in time to Antevs' Altithermal. During that interval,
Lake Mohave dried up, plant and animal communities rapidly declined
in species and in numbers, and the delicate balance between survival
and demise was seriously imperiled.
While it seems improbable that
the southern California desert area became completely deserted, evi­
dence of human occupation is quite tenuous.
In the earlier Lake Mohave
phase, an inventory of stone implements compiled by Amsden (1937:
53-
85) included an assortment of scrapers, choppers, perforators, and a
distinctive type of projectile point called Lake Mohave, together with
other point styles particularly the closely related Silver Lake, along
with two possible manos and a metate.
This catalogue of tools strongly
suggests hunting and related activities, such as hide processing, with
little reference to plant gathering and processing.
The near absence
of milling stone equipment does not preclude plant foraging, for as
Amsden cautioned (1937: 92) "fishing and seed gathering are not whollydependent on stone implements,"
Radiocarbon dates obtained from
Anodonta mussel shells found on the highest shoreline of Lake Mohave
on a level where artifacts also occur cluster around 7,680 B.C.
(Warren and DeCosta 196U: 206).
Unfortunately only surface material
was recovered on the shoreline of Lake Mohave and contemporaneity of
artifacts with organic material susceptible to radiocarbon dating can­
not be demonstrated.
Early sites around Lake Mohave, of which Campbell
located 2h (Campbell and Campbell 1937: 32-36) show no evidence of
shelters or hearths. Ifama Lou Davis has excavated Lake Mohave sites
in the Panamint valley of California where artifacts in a secondary
deposition overlie lake bed material that bore a radiocarbon date of
8,070 B.C. (Davis 1967: 352).
Another Lake Mohave site, also on the
shore of Panamint dry lake, rested on a mat of an organic peaty sub­
stance that registered a date of 8,570 B.C., although Davis (1967: 3b£)
admits that the cultural remains could be 2,000 or 3,000 years later
than the peaty mat on which they reposed. The emphasis placed on
hunting to the apparent neglect of plant gathering inspired Wallace
to exclude the Lake Mohave Complex from the Desert Culture (Wallace
1962: 179).
In the Death Valley area of the southern California
desert, the earliest lithic collection, dated about 7,000 to 6,000
B.C. and called Death Valley I, exhibited large projectile points,
knives, scrapers and choppers, but no milling stones (Wallace 1958: 11).
30
Here attain the lithic inventory reflected a hunting economy and dupli­
cated the types of tools retrieved at Lake Mohave.
As such, it too was
exempt from T)esert Culture affiliation, since Wallace reasoned that a
desert way of life with its emphasis on gathering did not enter Death
Valley until the beginning of the Christian era or even a thousand
years later.
In her survey and excavations in Death Valley, Alice
Hunt (i960: 20-21) endorsed the interpretation of Wallace when she
defined Death Valley I as a hunting way of life with a lithic assem­
blage correlating almost identically with Lake Mohave and manifesting
little or no reliance on plant gathering.
In her evaluations, Hunt
also noted the striking resemblance between Death Valley I sequence
and the Playa Industry (now San Dieguito II) of southern California
(Hunt I960: 22j Warren and True 1961: 266-67).
Rogers (1939* 27—I»U), who first described the San Dieguito
sequence had observed the relationship between what he then called
the Playa Industry and the early culture found at Lake Mohave.
Wallace
went further and categorized both industries as one and the same
(Wallace 1962: 175).
In their assessment of the San Dieeuito sequence,
Warren and True (1961: 268) agreed with Ropers and Hunt by defining
the San Dieguito culture as a hunting one.
Warren (1967: 17b.) also
regarded the Lake Mohave Complex as a variant of San Dieguito II.
On
the other hand, E. L. Davis (1967: 3h9) favored the primacy of Lake
Mohave Complex as the basic culture underlying all cultural expres­
sions in the Great Basin during the past 10,000 years with Lake Mohave
enjoying temporal and cultural priority over San Dieguito.
Touhy
(1969: 136) somewhat agreed with Davis although he admitted elsewhere
(1968: 3U) that the data are not sufficiently refined at present to
resolve the issue whether Lake Mohave or San Dieguito represents the
older culture.
In any case, Lake Mohave, San Dieguito II and Death
Valley I, all three being very early southern California cultures,
were excluded by Wallace from membership in the Desert Culture since
their tool collections strongly surest an almost exclusive preoccu­
pation with hunting rather than gathering, which was more typical of
a Desert Culture way of life.
Like Wallace, Warren (1967: 181-182)
also excluded the 3an Dieguito II complex from the Desert Culture,
and he did this for several reasons: (l) the area in which San
Dieguito sites occur was not an arid environment in San Dieguito
timesj (2) no manos or milling stones, hallmarks of the Desert Culture,
were discovered on San Dieguito sitesj and (3) large knives and
scrapers, common on San Dieguito sites, were better adapted for hunt­
ing large game than for small animals, such as rabbits or other
rodents.
With the advent of a more congenial climate about 2,500 B.C.,
the California desert was revitalized by more abundant and diverse
plant and animal communities, attracting human inhabitants to the area
once again (Wallace 1962: 175).
The newcomers were bearers of a cul­
ture called Pinto Basin (Campbell and Campbell 1935) and unlike the
more geographically restricted Lake Mohave Culture, that of Pinto
Basin was much more diffuse with a broader subsistence base that uti­
lized plant foraging in addition to hunting. While most Pinto Basin
32
sites are situated on open surfaces, one had straticraphic depth.
That
was the Stahl site in Inyo County, California. Here as elsewhere, the
typical Pinto projectile point occurred in association with willow and
laurel leaf points, blades, drills, scrapers, choppers, and a harvest
of 117 metates and 85 manos, an impelling proof of the importance
attached to the gathering of vegetal products (Harrington 1957:
At the Stahl site, Lake Mohave points were encountered in lower levels.
Stylistically the Pinto type projectile point ranged far beyond Cali­
fornia.
They appeared as one tyoe in the Chiricahua Stage of the
Cochise Culture, and are found in Chiricahua levels of the midden
layer at Ventana Cave (Haury 1950: 295).
With its combined hunting and gatherinp the Pinto Basin culture
seemed an acceptable candidate for Desert Culture affiliation; yet
this, Wallace was reluctant to do.
Instead, he relegated it, along
with later southern California cultures -- prehistoric Shoshonean and
Yuman -- to their own particular niche outside the mainstream of the
Desert Culture.
If one subscribes to the concept of the Desert Culture
as defined by Jennings (196U: 152-153) -- a full adaptation and ex­
ploitation of available resources in an arid or semi-arid environment
by small nomadic groups engaged in collecting plant foods as the
principal subsistence base reinforced by hunting and fishing wherever
possible — then surely the Pinto Basin culture should easily qualify
as a variant of the Desert Culture lifeway.
Hunting and gathering were
practiced, the environment was at least semi-arid although less so than
during the Altithermal, and in the absence of horticulture and sedentarism, a nomadic pattern of life was probably adopted.
Another synthesis with connotations for the Desert Culture is
the Intermontane Western Tradition of Dangherty (1962: UiU-l£0). This
tradition postulates the emergence of a flexible economy operating in
close rapport with the environment and manifesting only local interest
in big game hunting, for example, at Lind Coulee in Washington; simi­
larity in artifact traditions and in the types of artifacts found in
those traditions; and the preservation of cultural stability modified
by gradual change only, in which new elements were incorporated into
the system without replacement of the old.
It was an additive system.
The Intermontane Western Tradition unfolded against a background of
four cultural and temporal horizons, each one closely synchronized
with the climatic model set up by Antevs, with cultures progressing
from one generalized and widespread pattern to more specific and geo­
graphically distinct cultural elaborations. The time horizons for
this tradition were segmented as Early, from 9,000 B.C. to 6,000 B.C.;
Transitional, from 6,000 B.C. to 2,^00 B.C.; Developmental, from
2,500 B.C. to A.D. 1; and the Late, from A.D. 1 to historical times
(Daugherty 1962: Fig. l).
In the Early period, unlike their contemporaries on the Plains
in pursuit of vanishing Pleistocene megafauna, the Intermontane popu­
lations concentrated on small game hunting, fishing and gathering.
There were two exceptions to this pattern.
At Lind Coulee, bison were
assiduously stalked as the principal game victim (Daugherty 19^6); and
along the Snake River valley in Idaho, Folsom, Eden and other Piano
projectile points, suggesting pursuit of large herd animals, were
discovered (Gruhn 1961: l5l-l?2).
In other areas of the Intermontane
tradition, utilization of available resources through hunting and.
foraging became the fulcrum for survival.
In a few more provident
areas, as at the Dalles in Oregon, fishing soon emerged as the most
successful economic activity (Cressman I960).
During the Early period,
small family units occupied dry caves or rockshelters whenever their
annual cycle of foraping brought them into proximity to those recesses.
Lanceolate projectile points, which predominated at the beginning of
the period, gradually changed into more elaborate derivative forms
that now serve to segregate time periods and population units whose
personal tastes and functional needs vrere reflected in the morohology
of the points.
and sandals.
Artifacts of bone survived in dry caves as did baskets
At this time level throughout the West, there was common
cultural likeness and conformity, except for the two big game hunting
propensities noted above.
The following Transitional period between 6,000 B.C. and 2,500
B.C., coincided with the Altithermal of Antevs culminating in a Thermal
Maximum in which demographic and economic shifts took place in conse­
quence of climatic deterioration.
While Great Basin populations con­
centrated even more intensely on gathering from an increasingly arid
and precarious environment, people in the Columbia Plateau converged
on major streams and tributaries (Daugherty 1962: 1U5). Here mussels
and fish, particularly salmon, were successfully and diligently har­
vested, leading to a decline in plant collecting and hunting (Daugherty
1962: lii£).
Triangular projectile points substituted for the older
35
lanceolate forms, a few of which remained.
A new form identified as
the Desert side-notched made its debut at this time (Daugherty 1962:
3JU7)•
In the Southwest and Great Basin, increasing dessication neces­
sitated a more intense dependence upon plant collecting. Toward the
end of the Transitional period, agriculture was on the verge of making
its entrance into the Southwest, providing an economic platform des­
tined to transform the entire cultural orientation of its practitioners.
In the Great Basin, however, the same basic pattern of seasonal ex­
ploitation of plants continued under conditions of severe marginal
aridity.
In the Transitional pariod, the first discernible steps
toward regional economic specialization can be traced (Daugherty 1962:
1U7).
In the Developmental period, commencing around 2,500 B.C. the
regional specializations hinted at toward the end of the Transitional
period, crystallized into three distinct cultures, under the influence
of a moderate climate with increased rainfall, attracting enhanced
plant and animal communities (Daugherty 1962: llj7).
The Southwest
experimented and produced improved strains of agricultural products
while fishing techniques in the Plateau region improved, enabling both
areas to sustain larger populations.
The acceptance of agriculture
and its concomitant, sedentarism made possible the development of more
complex social and political institutions in the Southwest where larger
populations could congregate in villages of pithouses.
The Late period which carries through from the beginning of
the Christian era to historic times witnessed the ultimate development
of the three areal traditions that had by now become compartmentalized
(Daugherty 1962: 1U7).
These were:
the Southwest Agricultural Area
Tradition, with its focus on planting and harvesting crops, village
and pueblo life, new social, political and religious institutions, in­
creased population, more widespread external contact and trade, and
the evolution of art styles; the Northwest Riverine Area Tradition,
with its fishing complex so efficient and so advanced that permanent
villages could be erected (Spencer and Jennings 1965: 213-229).
Finally in the Great Basin, the Desert Area Tradition continued, almost
immutable since the Early period.
It retained more traits of that
period than either of the other two traditions.
Daugherty (1962: 1U7)
equated the Desert Area Tradition with the Desert Culture of Jennings.
Daugherty1 s scheme (1962: UUU—1^0) for the evolution and
growth of distinct cultures in the West seems at first glance an
attractive and reasonable approach.
is not without its flaws.
But the model, while inviting,
For one thing, Daugherty accepts in toto
Antevs1 concept of post-Pleistocene climates, which stand in need of
modification for both the Southwest and the Columbia Plateau.
For
another, evidence has accumulated documenting the presence of Big
Game Hunters throughout the Intermontane West in the Terminal Pleis­
tocene.
Clovis fluted points have a wide distribution in a number of
places in the Desert West ~ in several Nevada sites (Touhy 1968: 2738; Davis and Shutler 1969: 15U-169); in central Utah (Tripp 1966:
U35-U36); in the Mohave Desert of California (Davis 1968b: UU); and
in Arizona (Haury 1953; Haury, Sayle3 and Wasley 1959: Hemmings 1970).
The Llano Complex most certainly penetrated into the Intemontane West
in areas other than Idaho.
Far from feeling that Piano projectile
points in the Snake River valley were isolates of sporadic incursions
of hunters from the Great Plains, as Daugherty professed, Gruhn (1961:
1|?1) felt that the Snake River valley was "a rich grassland which
supported herds of bison and camel so that big game hunters of the
early lanceolate, parallel-flaked point tradition of the Great Plains
were attracted west into this region.
Points referable to this tra­
dition -- Scottsbluff, Eden, Angostura, Plainview, Milnesand, and
variant types — are fairly frequent finds all over the Snake River
Plain."
The Wilson Butte II faunal remains, dated about 6,000 B.C.
included quantities of bison and camel bones, attesting to the pre­
ponderance of hunting in the economy (Gruhn 1961: 118-119).
By that
time horse and ground sloth had become extinct in the Snake River
Plain but camel still survived and, strangely enough, the bison found
in association with it was not an extinct species but the modern one
(Gruhn 1961: 118).
A third study of the Desert Culture was prepared by Emma Lou
Davis (1963: 202-212), based upon ethnographic studies among the Mono
Lake Paiute.
Her observations of the Paiutes showed ouite clearly
that seasonal transhumance from valley to mountain habitats enabled
them to achieve two goals: (1) to avail themselves of more comfortable
climates by going to the mountains in the summer and returning to the
valleys in the winter; and (2) to collect and process plant foods as
they matured at different elevations.
In the course of the annual
cycle of migration, six to eight different localities would be occu­
pied, some for collecting grass seeds and bulbs, others for harvesting
onions and cress? still others for gathering pinyon nuts or berries
and fruits.
hunts.
Interlacing these activities would be occasional rabbit
From this ingenious exploitation of the enviromnent covering
diverse altitudes at alternate seasons, every bit of land would be
traversed, and scattered over it would be occasional lithic waste dis­
carded in passine or concentrations of lithics, both tools and debitage,
deposited in and around a campsite.
The former were called use areas
and the latter occupance areas, selected for campsites and frequented
in some cases over a number of years. This pattern of operations
convinced Davis that a small nomadic group participating in a range
of functional activities may leave in its wake a number of sites, each
with its own set of artifacts corresponding to the particular activity
performed at each site (Davis 1963: 20U).
At first glance these sites
would suggest a dense population having different cultural affinities.
For instance, sites displaying manos and metates would imply a gather­
ing society, while another site, heavy with projectile points, knives
and scrapers, may be interpreted as a hunting culture.
Yet the true
picture, as ethnography demonstrates, is a migratory band moving from
place to place in an annual round leaving behind a trail of sites each
reflecting one aspect of the whole ranee of cultural activities that
the group carried out.
Complicating the picture could be the presence
of artifacts belonging to different time horizons, but all lying on
the same deflated eroded surface.
Real cultural succession exists on
such sites but it is almost impossible to differentiate artifacts of
one culture from those pertaining to another.
Turning now to the prehistoric past, Davis observed (1963: 209)
that projectile points of the Llano Complex — Sandia, Clovis and
Folsom (and early Lake Mohave as well) ~ occur in southern California
and western Nevada in grassland valleys exclusively, never in mountain
meadows, indicating that their makers did not participate in the round
of seasonal transhumance practiced today.
The Llano points presumably
were directed aprainst large herbivores browsing or grazing on the
savannah grasslands, not against smaller mammals inhabiting mountain
meadows.
Since their Pleistocene quarry did not ascent to mountain
meadows, which Davis (1963: 206) felt were unglaciated since the
Pleistocene, their human predators saw no need to ascend either.
How­
ever, points found in the mountain meadows were those chronologically
later than projectiles of the Llano Complex. These included the later
Mohave-Silver Lake, Gypsum, Pinto, and the Desert Side-notched (Davis
1963: 205-207). These types were scattered on stream banks and lake
terraces in the valleys as well as in mountain meadows.
This suggests
that transhumance began at a time contemporary with the early Desert
Culture, following the extinction of Pleistocene herbivores and a
change in climate.
The warmer conditions that now appeared with the
Anathermal, a prelude to the aridity yet to come, stimulated the
adoption of a more widespread foraging economy augmented by hunting
small game in the lower valleys as well as in the mountain meadows.
Transhumance thus became an important feature in coping with a
deteriorating climate by expanding the range of exploitation. Davis
(1963! 211) saw the Desert Culture as a development from an earlier
hunting culture in which transhumance provided the means to extract
from all ecosystems in the environment the basic subsistence require­
ments.
Big Game Hunters almost certainly collected vegetal foods, but
hardly under the same circumstances of duress as members of the Desert
Culture.
In deriving the origin of the Desert Culture from the Terminal
Pleistocene Big Game Hunters, Davis (1963: 209) presented a neatly
packaged continuum, obviating the need to explain Llano Complex pro­
jectile points in terms of incursions of Big Game Hunters into Desert
Culture preserves.
The succession of layers at Ventana Cave (Haury
1950s 178-191) lends credence to one point made by Davis, namely:
contemporaneity of Big Game Hunting and plant gathering.
the
There, stone
tools comprising two projectile points, knives, scrapers, gravers,
choppers, planes and hammerstones, diagnostic of a hunting economy and
in association with the bones of extinct mammals, as ground sloth,
tapir, horse, bison, and even jaguar, were distributed in the volcanic
debris layer, which is the lowest level of definite human occupation
(Haury 1950: lliO, 191).
An unfluted projectile point, possibly a
Clovis, occurred in that stratum along with a mano.
The presence of
the mano in a deposit containing bones of extinct animals and radio­
carbon dated to 93UO B.C. implies the possibility of the synchronous
pursuit of game and plant processing.
The next ascending level, the
Red Sand layer, deposited after an indeterminate interval of time,
also manifests a hunting propensity, but the layer lacks any milling
stones (Haury 1950: 200-201).
It is only in the succeeding midden
layer that milling stones made their reappearance.
Somewhat the same depositional context was found in Danger
Cave.
There, embedded in the earliest cultural layer, in Level I,
with radiocarbon assessment of 8,320 B.C., 8,b50 B.C., and 9,201 B.C
(Jennings 1957: 93) and in association with one projectile point and
three flake knives were three metates and three manos (Jennings 1957:
212, 2lit, 163).
Granted that the collection is minuscule in comparison
with its counterpart in Ventana Cave (Haury 1950: 176-189), it is sig­
nificant that milling stones should occur in a horizon antecedent to
9,000 B.C.
Like Ventana Cave, there is a hiatus in Banger Cave after
the earliest cultural layer extending in this instance for 2,000 years
before cultural materials arain reassert themselves (Jennings 1957s
60, 6I4).
In Level II, dated 7,839 B.C. and 7,010 B.C., 122 metates
and 39 manos with other lithic material and. basketry were found
(Jennings 1957: 212, 21h, 235~6h). Featured in the lithic material
were projectile points, scrapers, knives and choppers, all suggestive
of hunting (Jennings 1957: 101-173).
It is certain that by 7,500 B.C.
hunting and gathering were carried on simultaneously.
Both Ventana
and Danger caves seem to support Davis1 contention (1963: 209) that at
least some gathering took place by 9,000 B.C. coincident with the
existence, and in the case of Ventana Cave, the pursuit, of extinct
Pleistocene species.
As the megafauna disappeared emphasis shifted
more and more toward Fathering, with hunting confined generally to
smaller species of game.
Davis (1963: 211) was probably correct in
her insistence that bands labeled Big Game Hunters and those classified
as gatherers were one and the same population extended through time in
cultural and biological succession.
Bands with an emphasis on hunting
tracked down large herbivores in valley grasslands until they finally
became extinct.
With the disappearance of the megafauna and the in­
trusion of a warmer
^imate, foraging operations into the mountains
as well as on the deserts, commenced on a regular seasonal basis, with
migration to each environmental zone synchronized with the maturation
of exploitable plants.
The earlier period had been glamorized as the
spectacular era of the Bit? Game Hunters; the later period has come to
be known as the time of the Desert Culture.
The early period unfolded
in the valleys where big game browsed and grazed; the later r>eriod
added the new dimension of mountain exploitation to that lone practiced
in the valleys.
Even during a hunting optimum, plant resources were
not neglected; but they grew increasingly indispensible as large
mammals declined and the climate worsened culminating in the emergence
of the Desert Culture.
Swanson (1966: 137-1U6) approached a study of the Desert Cul­
ture from a consideration of the grassland and desert ecological
systems and the vegetation they produced.
Challenging the convention
that the Desert Culture evolved as an adaptive response only to a
perennially dry environment exclusive of plains grassland and mountain
forests, Swanson called attention to the physiographic features of the
basin and range province, noting that dryness in the desert is counter­
balanced by moisture in adjacent mountains, which finger across desert
basins and support opulent forests at their summits. The basins inter­
spersed between mountain ranges vary in the degree of their aridity;
some are well-watered with green, verdant pastures as in the Mogollon
Rim country of Arizona or the Salmon River valley of Idaho.
Other
basins are true deserts, extremely dry and bleak, as the internal
basins of Nevada and western Utah.
The basins, then, may support
either a grasslands or a true desert flora, which are linked with the
mountain forests in the concept of the Rocky Mountain Ecological Sys­
tem.
In prehistoric times as in the present, the desert environment
was truly marginal for human habitation.
It is this type of environ­
ment that has been consistently and exclusively ascribed to the Desert
Culture.
In distinguishing environmental zones — the grasslands and
desert ~ within the geographical limits of the Great Basin, Swanson
described two distinct cultural patterns that evolved from adaptation
to each zone (Swanson 1966: lli3).
Using ethnographic analogy, he
showed that Paiute and Western Shoshoni occupied a desert and semidesert area which they manipulated by means of a desert culture form
of life organized into units of simple family bands.
Adjoining them
but ensconced on the grasslands and meadows of open valleys and high
basins of the northern Rocky Mountains were the Northern and Eastern
Shoshoni whose lifeway revolved around big game buffalo hunting under­
taken by sociopolitical units of composite band size. Thus in two
adjoining regions, two patterns of adaptation evolved;
one articulated
with desert foragingj the other with big game hunting.
Both patterns
represented an adjustment to the prevailing environmental conditions
in which the respective Paiute or Shoshoni found themselves (Steward
1938: 23S-236).
The Northern Shoshoni incursion onto the Northern Plains was
facilitated and indeed made possible only by their acouisition of
horses.
It is doubtful if horses could have foraged successfully in
the western part of the Great Basin because of the shortage of grass
and the competition they would have offered people who themselves
depended upon grass seeds.
Conseouently horses who ventured into
Western Shoshoni preserves were invariably consumed.
Among the North­
ern Shoshoni, however, a different attitude toward the horse prevailed.
Its availability, and the accessibility to bison, made buffalo hunting
a rewarding and remunerative adventure (Steward 1938: 235-36).
horse revolutionized Northern Shoshoni society.
The
It enabled many
families to amalgamate — for protection against enemies existed in
weight of numbers — in order to travel in late summer hundreds of
miles east to hunt bnffalo on the high plains, and to transport immense
quantities of meat and hides back to Fort Hall in Idaho where they
wintered.
In southern Idaho, they spent the summer Wishing, hunting,
gathering berries and roots, especially camass, and tradinp buffalo
hides ~ a form of Plains currency — for additional or replacement
horses, before resuming their trek back to the Plains (Steward 1938:
201-20U).
From all of this, a new social organization evolved among
the Northern Shoshoni, that included band chiefs chosen from a group
of related families, and war leaders, to guide the destiny of the
tribe against predatory Blackfeet (Steward 1938: 210). Thus the horse
and the buffalo transformed Northern Shoshoni society into a structure
quite distinct from that retained by their southern kinsmen (Steward
1938: 235). This is the contrast Swanson referred to in his distinc­
tion between grasslands and desert zones and the influence they exert
on cultural development.
Turning now to prehistoric times, when the climate deteriorated
in the Altithermal, changes ensued in ecological zones and in plant
communities within those zones.
Grasslands retreated in many places
to higher elevations, to be replaced by xerophytic flora typical of
the desert zone. This began in some areas as early as 5,000 B.C.
In
the Snake River valley of Idaho encroaching aridity triggered a reces­
sion of grasslands to elevations of 5*000 feet or higher, where mois­
ture and temperature controls were more favorable and occasioned at
the same time a concentration of human populations to corresponding
altitudes in the northern Rockies for a period of approximately li,000
years (Swanson and Bryan 196U: 10).
Below 5,000 feet, the grasslands
disappeared entirely or survived precariously in small oases.
Prior
to the Altithermal the grasslands zone was widespread in the Great
Basin, where adaptation to the grasslands constituted the origin of
the Desert Culture.
With the onset 0^ the Altithermal, documented by
pollen analysis in Nevada indicating a rapid dispersion of desert
flora in h,8£0 B.C. reaching a climax about lt,250 B.C. (Swanson 1966:
Hj5-1U6), human populations up to that time attuned to a grassland
adaptation, were literally driven from their homes to find refuge in
oases in the Great Basin itself or outside of it.
Their contemporaries
farther to the north in Idaho found refuge by following the retreating
grasslands to higher elevations.
The Paiutes are present-day analogues
of the pristine adaptation 7,000 years ago to the desert just as the
Shoshoni illustrate today an articulation to a grasslands environment
that enveloped the Great Basin before the Altithermal. The Altithermal
had the net effect of inciting a shift in vegetational distribution in
the Rocky Mountain Ecological System leading to the diffusion of desert
plants into large areas of the Great Basin and elsewhere and expanding
for several thousand years the area subject to a desert marginal zone.
Adaptation to a strictly desert environment began with the Altithermal
and the Desert Culture, viewed as an adjustment to arid conditions,
can be said to have begun only 7,000 years ago.
But viewed as an
adjustment to a grasslands environment, as Swanson viewed it (Swanson
1966: U4.6,
the Desert Culture is much older.
In retrospect it seems that Swanson interprets the ecological
setting of the Desert Culture not in terms of the desert alone but in
its relation to the grassland and forest zones as well (Swanson 1966:
Ui3).
It is hard to see how living year round in a grasslands zone
can be considered a desert culture lifeway.
While Emma Lou Davis
(1963s 202-211) also posited a utilization of mountain regions by
desert culture people, it was on a seasonal basis, not a permanent
one, as Swanson advocates.
Swanson's hypothesis (Swanson 1966: iWi)
also conveys the impression of a blanket imposition of warmth and
aridity over the entire Desert West during the Altithermal, initiating
U7
a series of population dislocations. There is no proof that the Alti­
thermal was felt everywhere at once; in fact, the evidence suggests
the contrary.
Nor has it been proven that grasslands carpeted the
Desert West prior to the Altithermal although that is possible.
If the Desert Culture, to be a desert culture, must be invested
with an arid environment, and if an arid environment enveloped the
Great Basin coincident with the Altithermal, then the Desert Culture
did not begin until 5,000 B.C.
But did aridity impinge upon the Great
Basin only at the time of the Altithermal, which served only to
increase, not to introduce, an arid, environment?
It would seem that
the Great Basin was at least semi-arid before the Altithermal began;
when it did begin, it helped to intensify the dryness already present.
Favoring an early date for the beginning of aridity in the Great Basin
is the palynological evidence mobilized by Mehringer (1967a: 193) from
Tule Springs, Nevada, when he detected from a pollen profile a trend
toward warmth and dryness setting in about 10,000 B.C., interrupted
twice by slightly wetter intervals, one in 6,£00 B.C. and the other
in U,5>00 B.C.
This accords with Jennings' view of little change in
climate during the past 10,000 years (Jennings 196U: 1^0).
If the
pollen profile gives an accurate appraisal of Great Basin climate for
12,000 years, it would seem that dessication had already begun and was
progressing long before the Altithermal of 5,000 B.C.
At that time,
according to the pollen count, the vegetation at Tule Springs resembled
that found today at the lower elevation and more arid site of Lake
Mohave, that is, it would have been scanty, stunted and parched,
struggling to survive on barren clay flats against a landscape of
bleak desolation.
Swanson feels that the Desert Culture is really a grasslands
culture that had a desert adaptation thrust upon it as a result of the
Altithermal (Swanson 1966: lli5>).
The Paiutes reflect this type of
adaptation which Swanson feels was assumed by the prehistoric Desert
Culture population in response to the Altithermal.
seems to contradict this view.
Pollen analysis
Desert conditions existed before the
Altithermal began; adjustment to aridity was not a new feature adopted
in £,000 B.C. but one that had roots going back )j,000 or $,000 years
earlier.
Another synthesis of the Desert Culture is provided by V7ilbur
Davis (1966: Hj7-165) who considered the Desert Culture as essentially
an accommodation to a lakeshore ecosystem confined to the Great Basin.
Davis s\ibscribed to the concept that climate in the Great Basin has
remained substantially unaltered for 10,000 years.
The pluvial lakes
dotting the terrain were operational centers for Paleo-Indian groups
and their later successors, who occupied terraces, rockshelters and
caves bordering residual lakes.
In time, under the impact of warmer
climates the lakes either dwindled in size or vanished altogether.
The process of evaporation, however, was a gradual one rather than
sudden or ephemeral, continuing inexorably until present-day distri­
butions were reached toward the end of the first millenium B.C.
Since
ancient sites clustered around high beach strands of relict or extinct
lakes, Davis hypothesized the formulation of a lacustrine culture
geared to the seizure of animal and marine fauna sheltered by lakes and
waterholes 9,000 or more years ago (Davis 1966: 162).
The change in
projectile point types from large blade forms wielded by javelinthrowing Big Game Hunters of Paleo-Indian persuasion to the lanceolate
and triangular stemmed dart points projected from an atlatl by 8,000
B.C. is symptomatic of the transformation to a lacustrine ecology,
since darts were very effective weapons against animals and birds that
congregate by lakes (Davis 1966: 1[>2).
The milling stone complex,
acknowledged as one of great antiquity, complements lacustrine food
resources with seeds, berries and nuts culled from grasses and plants
ringing the shore.
Davis (1966: 162, I63) concurred with Daugherty's classifica­
tion (1962: Hi7-llt9) of the Northwest Riverine Area Tradition and the
Desert Area Tradition which meant to Davis a lakeshore ecosystem
centered in the Great Basin.
Davis maintained that both these tradi­
tions evolved from a common unknown source 10,000 years ago, with
neither one antecedent to the other but both culturally distinct and
separate by 6,000 B.C. (Davis 1966: 162).
The Desert Area Tradition,
understood in the sense intended by Jennings (195?: 280-2^2) began
only a little over 2,000 years ago when the final evaporation of former
Pleistocene lakes obliged their tenants to evacuate the now barren
shorelines and move out into the hinterlands. This expansion outward
marks the beginning of the Desert Culture. Parenthetically, Davis re­
jected the notion of the Desert Archaic as a developmental stage be­
cause it had both spatial and temporal connotations, namely:
the area
encompassed between the Rockies and the Sierras between 8,000 (7,000)
B.C. and 2,000 B.C. (Davis 1966: 16U).
He preferred to confine cul­
tural developmental stages to steps in technological sophistication,
"since stages are positively defined by technological criteria" (1966:
162).
Along somewhat the same lines Shutler (1968a: 2U-26) also
advocated a lakeshore accommodation which he termed the "Lakeshore
Ecology Phase," representing one phase of the Great Basin Archaic
Stage, the other phase being the Desert Phase.
He regarded the Lake-
shore Ecology Phase as a culture "based on small game and bird hunting,
fishing, and the gathering of wild plants and seeds" (1968a: 2h),
utilizing lakeshore caves and rockshelters in Nevada, Utah, and Oregon.
Radiocarbon dates from Falcon Hill Caves by Winnemucca Lake in Nevada
project the phase dates backward to 7,590 B.C. and forward to histori­
cal times (Shutler 1968a: 2U).
The Lakeshore Ecology Phase was tempo­
rally coexistent with the Desert Phase which Shutler (1968a: 2lj)
equated regionally and culturally with the Desert Culture.
Unlike
W. Davis who considered the Desert Culture a derivative of an earlier
lacustrine ecosystem that expired when lakes dried up about 2,000 years
ago, Shutler recognized in the Great Basin two contemporaneous cul­
tures, one synonymous with the Lakeshore Ecology Phase and the other,
the Desert Culture, identified with the Desert Phase, both being 10,000
to 12,000 years old (Shutler 1968a: 2h).
Rozaire took the view that
lakeshore adaptation, a gathering and collecting economy, and a hunting
orientation were all equally old with no one as a variant of the other
51
two, since all three cultural expressions go back to 9,000 B.C.(Rozaire
1963: 72-77).
An analysis of coprolites from deposits in Lovelock Cave^
a lakeshore site, by Heizer (1967: 1-20), Covran (1967: 21-3?) and Ambro
(1967: 37-U7) revealed that the diet of the prehistoric inhabitants
was varied and ample, with over 50 percent representinn: products of a
lakeshore environment.
From this Shutler concluded that lakeshore in­
habitants were economically self-sufficient and largely sedentary.
At this point a word about coprolites would be in order.
In
his version on climate changes Aschrnann (1958: 32) had predicted that
an analysis of human and animal fecal waste in archaeological sites
would constitute a prime indicator of climatic variability in the past
and at the same time would furnish material for absolute dating by
radiocarbon technique.
Such a venture had been undertaken several
years ago and with excellent results on material retrieved from Nevada
caves.
Robert Heizer (1967: 1-20), Richard Cowan (1967: 21-35)>
Richard Ambro (1967: 37-'i7), and Norman Roust (1967: h9-$8) have con­
tributed handsomely to the results.
With painstaking accurac?/- those
investigators identified in fecal waste not only a wide range of seeds
which prehistoric populations had consumed, but also such unexpected
items as feathers, egg shell, bird skin, fish scales, coyote and ringtailed cat hairs, bones from many species of birds, fish and terres­
trial creatures, plant fibers, nuts, etc.
From his research on copro­
lites from Lovelock and Hidden Caves in Nevada, both participating in
the Lakeshore Ecology Phase, Ambro (196?: h3-Uh) concluded that:
The terrain in and around Humboldt and Carson sinks appears
quite harsh and forbidding, and the contents of cave refuse
and coprolites indicate that these people were carnivorous.
$2
However, closer examination of the data especially those of the
coprolites, suggests a certain degree of abundance and perhaps
specialization in the diet.
The aboriginal populations obviously focused their huntinggathering, catching-collecting activities around the marshy
lake and river edges not far distant from the caves. The mar^iy
lake margins provided an abundance of plants whose edible
parts formed approximately half of the food materials observed
in coprolites. The same plants harbored various resident and
migratory water fowl and their nests, while the lake itself
provided fish. All of these were captured and utilized as
food.
. . . habits of the larger mammals are more far ranging and
probably involved not only local hunting but also tracking in
the mountains on either side of the sink and beyond ....
Two items in the diet suggest even more distant sources.
One can view the range of economic exploitation, as reflected
in the cave deposits and coprolites, as three concentric
circles in terms of area and importance. The first and most
important in the area in and immediately around the lake and
river, which provided the major part of the food resources and
comprised only a few square miles. Beyond this area would
extend the range of the larger mammals and other occasional
food items that would encourage the prehistoric hunters and
gatherers to visit the hills and mountains nearby. The third
zone would include the distant sources of pinon and cui-ui.
A study of coprolites could contribute significantly to knowl­
edge of the prehistoric past, its climates, its floral and faunal
resources, precision in dating by radiocarbon techniques, the pattern
of human transhumance, and the migratory ranges of animals.
Outside
the scope of this paper but relevant to the topic, is the wealth of
information elicited by Callen (1967: 261-289) from a study of copro­
lites recovered from the eight phases represented in the caves in
Tehuacan Valley in Puebla, Mexico.
In Ambro's discussion and evalua­
tion (Ambro 1967s lib), it is interestinr to observe that, although the
lakeshore with its marine-fowl resourcej was well stocked, prehistoric
inhabitants still persisted in the Desert Culture pattern of hunting
and gathering provisions from areas removed from the environs of the
lake itself.
One last view of the Desert Culture remains to be examined.
This is the Elementary Southwestern Culture, termed Picosa, introduced
by Cynthia Irwin-Williams.
In several monographs (1967: UU1-U57J
1968b: 19-23; 1968c:
she commented on the similarities and dif­
ferences between elements of two culttires and distinguished between
what she called Level I or Integrative analysis and Level II or Isolative analysis.
The first level or Integrative is concerned with the
similarity between traits of two models, for example, the traits com­
mon to both the Cochise Culture and the more peneral Desert Culture.
The purpose of Level I analysis is to synthesize by focusing on
regularities and likenesses.
Level II or Isolative, on the other hand,
purports to distinguish two models by pointing out their differences,
for instance, elements differentiating a lakeshore site in the Great
Basin from a horticulture site in the Southwest.
The goal of Level II
is to specify elements exclusive to one model because of its culture
history from those occurring in another.
Level II concentrates on
irregularities and differences.
The term Picosa is simply a contraction to signify the PintoAmargosa complexes, the Cochise phases, and the San Jose-Oshara mate­
rials.
Within and among the three constituent complexes making up the
Picosa lies a cultural continuum consisting of a mutual sharing of
many elements reinforced by a parallel development through time.
The
Picosa Culture comprises a basic or elementary culture in the Southwest
noticeable about 3,000 B.C. and persisting until the beginning of the
Christian era.
The Picosa belongs to the Desert Culture at Level I —
they both share many common elements — but it is beginning to ramify
away from other components of the Desert Culture, the Utah-Oregon and
Great Basin variants, at the Isolative Level II.
This means that the
Southvrestern Picosa Culture had some traits in common with the general­
ized Desert Culture and some traits not shared by its other affiliates.
The Picosa Culture is partitioned into three geographical
sectors:
the Western sector with Pinto Basin Culture located on both
sides of the Lower Colorado and beyond; the Southern sector of Cochise
Culture in Arizona and old Mexico; and the Northern sector of San Jose,
Oshara and related cultures circumscribing the Four Corners region
(Irwin-Williams 1967: hh6). The culture of each sector has an Early
and a Late period.
The Early period extends from 3,000 (2,£00) B.C.
to 1,000 (800) B.C., and the Late period from the latter date to some­
time between 200 B.C. to A.D. 1.
The division into sectors was
facilitated by projectile point typology peculiar to each area; by
the form of technology practised; and by the regional ecology. The
three sectors were not rigid spatial units, however, since a certain
amount of overlap occurred in each.
The beginnings of the Picosa
coincides with the emergence of the Southwest as a culture area, in
which seed gathering competed favorably with hunting as a dependable
subsistence base, although earlier progenitors, e.g., the San DieguitoLake Mohave, were oriented almost exclusively toward hunting, while
others, such as the Sulphur Spring Cochise depended primarily on
gathering seeds as early as the eighth millenium before Christ.
In the later history of the Southwest, the regional complexes
of the Picosa evolved into three ceramic traditions:
the Mogollon
from Cochise; the Anasazi from San Jose-Oshara; and the Hakataya from
Pinto.
In her description of the Picosa, Irwin-Williams gives no
account of climatic oscillations during the 3,000 year period or of
the influence of climate in the future development of the Picosaj nor
did she discuss the very important factor that set the Southwest off
from the rest of the Desert Culture:
the diffusion of agriculture
(Reed 196U: 179).
Summary of the Desert Culture
In the nearly two decades that have elapsed since the initial
presentation of the Desert Culture by Jennings, a number of investi­
gators have refined the concept with reference to its application to
specific areas of the Desert West.
In some cases, the conclusions
suggested by Jennings have been confirmed; in other cases revisions
have been introduced consisting in the modification of existing infor­
mation or in the form of additional data or the elimination of
untenable hypotheses.
Revisions have sometimes come about through
collaboration with scientists from other disciplines whose studies
have contributed to a better understanding of the Desert Culture.
Examples of interdisciplinary cooperation are the improved techniques
in radiocarbon dating and the re-evaluation of climatic and meteoro­
logical conditions in prehistory deduced from stratigraphic studies
of many sites combined with more detailed pollen and coprolite analy­
ses.
Since 1953 a large number of Desert Culture sites throughout the
West have been excavated, greatly enhancing archaeological knowledge
and sharpening interpretations.
Evidence now at hand indicates that seed gathering and plant
utilization, endemic to a Desert Culture complex, was not incompatible
with Big Game Hunting.
Quite the contrary.
tant segment in Late Pleistocene economy.
It was probably an impor­
Data now reasonably secure
imply that hunters of the Llano Complex, armed with Clovis and other
fluted points, ranged far and wide across the Desert West during the
Terminal Pleistocene, not as sporadic intruders into intermontane
regions, but as indigenous inhabitants who, in the course of their
hunting peregrinations did not disdain nourishment available from
plant foods, but took advantage of them. The discovery of milling
stones in the lower levels of Ventsna and Danger Caves support this
view. The extinction o^ some species of Big Game did not precipitate
a collapse of subsistence patterns but entailed only a shift in empha­
sis.
Reliance now turned more to gathering and collecting and less to
hunting, although hunting always remained a significant though supple­
mentary component in the subsistence economy.
E. L. Davis (1963: 20U)
documented the concurrence of hunting and gathering in the postPleistocene by the discovery of projectile points of comparable age in
both valleys and mountain meadows.
While fluted points of an earlier
age are encountered only in valleys and never in mountainous regions,
this distribution serves to point out two things: (1) the restriction
in altitude of Pleistocene herbivores to intermontane valleys; and (2)
hunting herbivores at lower elevations does not preclude forays into
the mountains in search of vegetal products.
In view of this it seems
misleading to speak of Bip Game Hunters encroaching into areas reserved
for forager3.
What the record implies is the identity of hunter and
forager as one and the same person.
As the climate turned warmer and
drier, gathering gradually came to predominate in a manner ultimately
conventionalized as a Desert Culture pattern.
Level II at Danger Cave,
with its large quantity of milling stones illustrates the preeminence
attached to gathering as early as 7,£00 B.C.
Sulphur Springs Stage
of Cochise Culture does the same.
Outstanding and impressive advances in an understanding of
paleoclimates have been made in the past decade.
The united labors
of geologists, meteorologists, palytiolopists and microbiologists have
brought the environmental picture into much sharper focus, and the
simple climatic transition from cold and humid to warm and dry now
appears considerably more complex than at first imagined.
Afainst a
general background of either moist or arid climate, deviations from
the expected pattern have occurred in certain places at specific times,
leading to the conclusion that each area must be evaluated environ­
mentally on its own merits.
Some geographic zones exhibited remarkable
constancy in climate during the past ten or eleven millenia, with
whatever changes that did occur, taking place gradually and almost
imperceptibly, as at the Lehner site in Arizona.
When did the Desert Culture first appear?
has evoked a multiplicity of responses.
This simple question
Relative to California,
Wallace (1962: 179) identified the early cultures there as manifesta­
tions of huntinc and felt that a true desert culture did not enter the
area until the time of Christ or even a thousand years later.
E. L.
Davis (1963: 209) regarded the Desert Culture as one of lone duration,
extending back to early post-Pleistocene times following the megafaunal extinctions, with Big Game Hunters of the Llano complex as
logical progenitors.
Daugherty (1962: llUi) would place its first
appearance to the Early period, of the Intermontane Western Tradition
commencing in 9,000 B.C. and persisting in the Desert West for three
thousand years; after that, Desert Culture societies were found only
in restricted localities as the Great Basin, having gradually disap­
peared from the Southwest after horticulture arrived, and from the
Columbia Plateau where a riverine economy intervened. To Swanson
(1966: lljh-lU5>) the beginning of the Desert Cultiire was concomitant
with the inception of the Altithermal about ^,000 B.C.
Wilbur Davis
(1966: l6ii) preferred a later date which he placed at about 2,000
years ago after Pleistocene lakes had finally evaporated insticatine
a demographic movement to arid regions o^ the Great Basin.
While ad­
vocating a Lakeshore Ecology Phase, Shutler (1968a: 2h) regarded it
and the Desert culture as coterminous, both being ten to twelve
thousand years old.
Irwin-Williams (196?: UU1-U57) did not theorize
on the appearance of the Desert Culture but confined her discussion to
the time it had begun to compartmentalize into regional specializations
about 3,000 B.C.
The wide spectrum of opinions that such a question as the age
of the Desert Culture provokes, can be explained as a basic misunder­
standing of the meaning of the term Desert Culture, further compounded
by the tendency to think in terms of absolutes. The discrepancy among
investigators who propose dates spanning 9,000 B.C. to A.D. 1,000
arises from their interpretation of the meaninr applied to Desert
Culture.
If a relationship between a culture and an arid environment
is pivotal for the existence of a Desert Culture, then the beginning
of that type of environment would presage the appearance of a Desert
Culture.
That is why some authorities eauate the Desert Culture with
the inception of aridity that accompanied the Altithermal about £,000
B.C.
Others would postpone its emergence to a later date on the
premise that human populations in the Great Basin were encamped on the
shores of diminishing Pleistocene lakes whose environment was lacus­
trine, not desert until A.D. 1 or later.
Warren (Warren and Ranere
1968: 6) even challenged a Desert Culture assignation for Danger Cave
precisely because 9,000 to 11,000 years ago the Great Basin was not a
desert but a congenial environment with many vestipes of Pleistocene
lakes, one of which Danper Cave overlooked.
Conseouently, for Warren,
Danger Cave represented an economic specialization articulated with a
moist lakeside environment.
If, on the other hand, Desert Culture
signifies wide exploitation of available species in a variety of ecozones in which aridity may be one but not the ultimate indispensible
criterion, although the term desert would suggest it, then Desert Cul­
ture has wider applications and earlier provenience.
It could be
traced back as a contemporary of the Big Game Hunters which Jennings
(1957: 281) did, or as one of their early successors as E. L. Davis
proposed (1963s 211).
It also admits of adaptations to marine re­
sources, whether river or lakeshore, as well as ecological adjustments
to desert and mountain regions.
In this broader interpretation of the
Desert Culture, one must remember that Jennings had envisioned an arid
environment in the Great Basin practically unchanged durinir the past
10,000 years, thereby justifying his appellation of "Desert Culture,"
notwithstanding possible concurrent and simultaneous marine or montane
adaptations as well.
In support of the thesis defending a fairly
stable and moderate environment with an increasing but not necessarily
dramatic trend toward dryness since 10,000 B.C. stands the recent work
of palynologists — Mehringer., Martin and Haynes (Mehringer and Haynes
1965: 23; Martin and Mehringer 1965: UiO) — who interpret the climate
of southern Nevada and parts of the Southwest as not too different
then from that encountered today.
From this it seems that at least
some degree of aridity must be acknowledged for some areas of the
Desert West throughout post-Pleistocene times.
Furthermore, an arid
interval of striking proportions must have accompanied the Two Creeks
Interstadial to galvanize the rapid decline of Lake Bonneville and
Lake Lahontan in the Great Basin 12,000 years ago.
Aridity most cer­
tainly led to the decline of other Pleistocene lakes in the Great
Basin and southern California during the post-Pleistocene of the last
10,000 years.
Also complicating a decision on the age of the Desert Culture
is the tendency to think in terms of absolutes expressed in the form
of an either-or proposition.
For example, a culture of the Lakeshore
Ecology Phase may be excluded from appropriation into the Desert Cul­
ture on the premise that an aquatic adaptation does not conform to the
Desert Culture model of an arid setting.
But a lacustrine adaptation
was not committed solely to a fertile oasis as coprolitic research has
so clearly demonstrated.
Ambro (1967: Uh) showed that a lakeshore
accommodation was not incompati-ble with a desert culture orientation.
On the contrary, hunting and gathering pursuits, sponsored, by lakeshore
residents into deserts and mountains beyond the geographical boundaries
of a lacustrine ecosystem were easily detected in the floral and faunal
remains retrieved from coprolites.
A Desert Culture way of life
apparently went hand in hand with a marine oriented li^eway, and the
exploitation of three ecosystems — marsh, desert, and mountain — were
effectively coordinated and carried out.
Projecting this model back­
ward in time, it is easy to perceive how Big Game Hunters would logi­
cally take advantage of plant foods accessible to them.
One of the
most stimulating articles on this point was that penned by Cressman
(1968: 78-87) who exposed the fallacy in language and imprecision in
terms attached to the descriptive title "Big Game Hunters."
He pointed
out that to assuage hunger and to avoid starvation, Early Man was quite
prepared to consume anything edible includinp small animals and plant
foods, as well as the more ephemeral Big Game, since hunger pangs are
great levelers of priorities in likes and dislikes of food.
From all that has been presented on the Desert Culture, it
would seem that the Desert Culture can be traced back to its roots in
62
the era of the "Big Game Hunters" who, as Cressman so vividly affirmed,
and as the milling stone evidence at both Ventana and Danger Cave im­
plies, did indeed engage in plant foraging and small game capture.
Recovered in the volcanic debris layer of Ventana Cave (Haury 1950:
lltO) were bones of badger, peccary, jackrabbit, mule deer, and ante­
lope, species of a character different from those usually associated
with Big Game Hunters.
It would also seem that these rudimentary
efforts at gathering and small game retrieval gradually replaced the
emphasis on Big Game, as the latter approached extinction and warmer
and drier climates intervened.
The Desert Culture can certainly claim
an antiquity as far back as 9,000 B.C. and in the Great Basin, the
perennial aridity in the post-Pleistocene not only limited available
resources but also transfixed cultural development as well.
Relict
populations stranded by shores of dwindling Pleistocene lakes in the
Great Basin capitalized on the aquatic and avian resources of those
oases, and at the same time benefitted from the plant and animal re­
sources available in adjoining deserts and mountains.
Outside the
Great Basin, a riverine adaptation was energetically pursued in the
Columbia Plateaii while the Southwest was accommodating itself to the
social and economic reforms contingent upon the adoption of agricul­
ture.
Only in the Great Basin did a Desert Culture way of life
persist with little change through succeeding millenia down to
present times.
CHAPTER 3
THE COCHISE CULTURE
Of the three geographical zones included in the concept of the
Desert West, the zone that progressed farthest in its sociocultural
integration and level of technical and material achievement, was the
Southwest.
Here, villages and towns had sprung up in prehistoric
times, supported by agriculture as the foundation of the subsistence
economy.
The adoption of a reliable food procurement system and the
care reouired by fields given over to cultivation imposed inevitable
restraints on the ambulatory pattern of hunters and gatherers, so that
agriculture, once firmly established, brought with it sedentarism as
an indispensible adjunct.
The enhanced level of social and cultural life that permeated
village and pueblo existence, compared to that possible among hunters
and gatherers, is reflected in the extensive circuit of trade carried
out by the pueblos, especially with Mesoamericaj the development of
attractive art styles; and the emergence of sophisticated patterns of
religious and ceremonial life.
coming.
But those developments were long in
In fact, approximately two millenia separated the introduc­
tion of agriculture to the Southwest and the initial steps taken to
inaugurate a form of village life dependent upon agriculture.
Even
after sedentary village life began more than a millenium would elapse
63
before the Southwest attained its zenith of cultural expansion evident
in the developments among the Anasazi at Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde,
Kayenta, and even earlier among the Hohokam.
But preceding the later Southwestern florescence and in one
sense, basic and essential to it, was the Cochise Culture, the hunting
and gathering society that bridged the gap between the Big Game hunters
at one end of the spectrum and the sedentary agriculturists at the
other.
For it was during the later stages of the Cochise Culture that
agriculture filtered northward from old Mexico, was received by Cochise
people without, however, transforming their subsistence economy sig­
nificantly, and was transmitted through them to their lineal descend­
ants the Mogollon, from whom the Anasazi received it during Basketmaker
II times (Morris and Burgh 195h: lllj).
The acceptance of agriculture
as the pivot stimulating a progressive development in all facets of
social and cultural life enabled the Southvrest to outdistance in tech­
nical achievement and sociocultural integration all other cultures of
the Desert West and indeed of the West as a whole.
Its only competitor
could be found in the Hopewellian and Mississippian florescence in the
East (Webb and Baby 1957: 100-109; Phillips, Ford and Griffin 1951:
hhS-USli Caldwell 1958: 60-75).
The year 1926 was a memorable one for archaeology in the
United States and in the New World.
In that year, eipht miles west
of the town of Folsom, New Mexico, J. D. Figgins, and a group of
paleontologists from the Colorado Museum of Natural History, discovered
in a matrix of extinct bison bones a fragment of a projectile point in
a geological deposit that suggested Pleistocene age (Figgins 1927: 229239j Wormington 1957s 23-2£).
Monumental as this discovery was, it
required two years to dispel the reluctance of anthropologists to
accept the association of projectile points with the extinct species,
bison antiquus
— for additional points were retrieved in succeeding
seasons of work — as evidence of man in the New World at least by the
Terminal Pleistocene (Cook 1927s 2hO-2lx7).
At Figgins1 insistence,
delegations from leading institutions in the country were finally per­
suaded to view the finds in situ and convince themselves of the authen­
ticity of the discovery.
Up to that time scientists were unwilling to
acknowledge an antiquity for man in the Western Hemisphere beyond three
or four thousand years (Wormington 19^7s 22^).
With the final accredi­
tation of the Folsom find, a much greater antiouity was attributed to
human presence on this continent.
The era of investigation for early
man in the New World had now begun.
In that same year, 1926, a discovery of equal importance,
although less heralded, took place in the neighboring State of Arizona.
There, in a profile at Whitewater Draw by the hamlet of Double Adobe,
Dr. Byron Cummings assisted by three students — Bnil Haury, John
McGregor, and Lyndon Hargrave — all from the University of Arizona
recovered the maxilla with teeth and tusks of a mammoth under which
reposed artifacts of an unknown culture in a lower adjacent bed (Sayles
19Ult 12 fh. £).
The presence of stone tools in a stratisrraphic deposit
beneath that of extinct mammoth confirmed and validated the conclusion
of Figgins, that man was in the New World during the Pleistocene
contemporaneous with extinct mammalian fauna.
Unfortunately the dis­
covery at Double Adobe did not receive the attention it merited or
that accorded the find at Folsom with the result that the significance
of the association at Double Adobe generally has been overlooked in
the history of American anthropology.
Undoubtedly the association was
significant as was the subsequent investigation conducted by E. B.
Sayle3 in an adjacent locale at the same site 12 years later where
other artifacts of the same culture ~ since identified as the Sulphur
Spring Stage of the Cochise Culture — were observed in stratigraphic
association with extinct horse and extinct dire wolf, all in a pro­
venience underneath that of additional mammoth bones (Antevs 19l.il:
U6-U7).
The existence of a preceramic culture in close proximity to
extinct fauna inspired a research project by Gila Pueblo to investi­
gate southeastern Arizona more extensively.
Beginning in 193% and
continuing for several years a detailed reconnaissance was initiated
by Emil Haury, E, B, Sayles and Ernst Antevs of the area between the
Santa Cruz River of south central Arizona and the Playa lakes of
southwestern New Mexico, bounded in the north by the Safford region
and in the south by the Mexican border, with excavations to be under­
taken at sites that appeared most promising.
The results of these
efforts were embodied in a report in 19lil defining the existence of
the Cochise Culture, so called since most of the sites known at that
time were centralized in Cochise County (Sayles and Antevs 19bl)»
On the basis of stratigraphic position and typological analysis
of tools, three stages were distinguished in the culture, proceeding
from the earliest or Sulphur Spring Stage, on through the Chiricahua,
and terminating in the San Pedro.
The Sulphur Soring stage derives its
name from that of the valley intersected by Whitewater Draw with
Willcox Playa (Pluvial Lake Cochise) toward the northern extremity and
Double Adobe toward the south.
To the east of the valley tower the
Chiricahua mountains on whose eastern slopes the type site for that
stage was located, while to the west, across the ridges and peaks of
the Dragoon and Mule mountains, spreads the San Pedro valley where
the type site for the most recent stage was found.
In chronological
order, the Sulphur Spring stage embraces the period between 7>500 and
3,500 B.C.j the Chiricahua from 3,500 to 1,500 B.C.j and the San Pedro
from 1,500 B.C. to the introduction of pottery in the Southwest be­
tween 300 B.C. and 200 B.C.
Radiocarbon dates tend to substantiate this sequence.
A mean
of radiocarbon measurements derived from charcoal and other carbon­
aceous substances in pollen profiles at Double Adobe by Martin (1963a:
70; 1963b: 56-57J cf. Sayles 1965: L76-U80) would place the Sulphur
Spring stage at 6,530 B.C. (based on B.P. dates of 8,270, 8,260, 8,960,
8,680, 8,000, 7,910, and 9,350); the Chiricahua at 3,500 B.C. (based
on B.P. dates of 7,560, U,960, and 3,860); and the San Pedro around
llhH B.C. (based on B.P. dates of 2,010, 2,220, 2,lii0, 1,790, and
3,860).
The Wet Leggett site in western New Mexico has a date of
2,556 B.C. for the Chiricahua stage (Martin, Rinaldo and Antev3 19U9:
57J Johnson 1951s 65). Two dates obtained from corn in Tularosa Cave,
likewise in western New Mexico, registered 350 B.C. and 273 B.C. for
the San Pedro horizon (Martin and others 1952: U83).
A Chiricahua
horizon at Bat Cave (Dick 1965: 105) yielded a mean date of 2,108 B.C.
(based on B.P. dates of 3,01>9f 5,51j9, 3,655, and 3,981) while the mean
average for the San Pedro came to 388 B.C.
The Cienega Creek site at Point of Pines presents a problem
due to a discrepancy in dates between two laboratories (Haury 195?:
22-2U).
On the Chiricahua D-l horizon, defined in terms of tool
typology, a radiocarbon date from one laboratory using the solid car­
bon technique was 2,275 B.C. (based on B.P. dates of li,i;00, !i,310,
and 3,980) while the pas sample technique, a more recent and presumably
a more accurate method, at the other research center yielded a date of
U55
B.C., admittedly too late for a Chiricahua deposit.
In the next
ascending preceramic level (San Pedro?) solid carbon dates averaged
out to 1,150 B.C. (based on B.P. dates of 3,070, 3,380, 3,280, 2,610,
3,250, and 3,025) and the gas technique measured 950 B.C. (based on
B.P. dates of 2,730, 2,U90, 2,900, 3,190), both dates fairly close
and probably referable to the San Pedro period since the samples came
from level C 3. (For a discussion on radiocarbon datings in the
Southwest see Jelinek 1965: 133-lUb»)
In general the radiocarbon
dates support the chronological intervals assigned to each of the
three stages of the Cochise Culture.
In subsequent investigations at the Double Adobe site, Sayles
isolated (1958a: 69-72) a transitional stage between Sulphur Spring
and Chiricahua which he named the Cazador, meaning "Hunter," from
projectile points found in its tool collection. The Cazador does not
69
seem to qualify as a distinct stage or cultural entity in the Cochise
sequence, but rather as a functional variant of the Sulphur Spring
stage.
At the Double Adobe type site, Sayles (1958a.: 70-71) included
in the Cazador tool complex biface blades, leaf-shaped flakes, heavily
barbed corner notched projectile points, and leaf-shaped projectile
points, bone implements, and some milling stones.
With reference to
Cazador tools, he remarked (1958a: Fig. 29): "Other types of chipped
stone tools are present in the Cazador stage and are comparable to
those identified with the Sulphur Spring Stage. Some of the milling
stones are likewise similar to those identified with the Stilphur
Spring stage; in addition, there are modified types comparable to
those found in the later stage."
The reasons for incorporating the
Cazador into the Sulphur Spring are threefold: (1) the two radiocarbon
dates available for this stage, collected from a pollen profile by
Martin (1963b: 38,
57)
at the Cazador type site at Double Adobe, reg­
ister 6,280 B.C. (charcoal) and 5>070 B.C. (leached carbonaceous
alluvium).
Both dates fall within the time range prescribed for the
Sulphur Spring; (2) the presence of scraping and cutting tools at
Sulphur Spring sites combined with the presence of burned and cracked
animal bones, suggest participation in hunting. Yet, paradoxically,
no projectile points were found at any of the six Sulphur Spring sites.
Why?
From earlier Paleo-Tndian times and later in the Chiricahua and
San Pedro stages, lithic projectiles were always utilized in hunting
expeditions.
It is possible that bone or fire-hardened wooden points
were also used before, during and after the Sulphur Spring-Cazador
stage.
If so, none have survived.
Sampling error may have contributed
to the absence of lithic points at the Sulphur Spring sites excavated
in the latter 1930's.
But one thing is certain:
the tradition from
Clovis times to the historic period is replete with full utilization
of stone projectiles, especially on the Plains where a continuum from
fluted points on through the entire Archaic has been fully documented
(Wormington 1957s 23-lii7; Haynes 1967b: 280-283; Irwin, Irwin-Williams
and Agogino 1965: 35-39). The Blackwater No. 1 site in New Mexico and
the Hell Gap site in Wyoming unerringly demonstrate in stratigraphical
and chronological sequence an unbroken succession of lithic projectiles
(Haynes 1967b: 280-283; Haynes and Agogino 1966: 812-821; (3) finally
the four Cazador sites found in the 1950's were all along Whitewater
Draw at locations formerly classified Sulphur Spring sites.
No Cazador
site has been found adjacent to a Chiricahua site. The impact of this
argument ~ the proximity of Sulphur Spring and Cazador sites ~ will
be elucidated later.
At present, for the three reasons mentioned, but
particularly on account of the stratigraphic concurrence of Sulphur
Spring and Cazador implements, it would seem best to amalgamate the
Cazador complex to the Sulphur Spring stage as a hunting aspect of
that period.
Crosscutting all three stages of the Cochise Culture were a
few common tool types that developed in some instances into diagnostic
subtypes, e.g., metate forms.
The common types symptomatic of the
Cochise Culture in all stages were planes, choppers, scrapers and
knives in the chipped stone category, with metates and manos
constituting the ground or packed tool forms#
Hammerstones, some
chipped, some pebble, were likewise found in all stages of the Cochise
sequence.
By lumping the Cazador with the Sulphur Spring, projectile
points may then be said to have occurred in all Cochise periods.
The
cominunality of knives, choppers, scrapers and projectile points conveys
a strong impression of hunting, just as the high incidence of metates
and inanos signal vegetal processing endemic to a gathering and agri­
cultural society.
In the Sulphur Spring and Chiricahua stages, grind­
ing implements xcere more numerous than chipped or flaked ones; the
reverse holds true, however, in the San Pedro stage (Sayles I9l4.lt 27).
A trend, was discernible in the elaboration of metates from the flat
slab form of the Sulphur Spring period to the usually shallow oval
basin types of the Chiricahua, to the deep oval basin forms and mortar
types characteristic of the San Pedro.
Manos also diversify from flat
sandstone or quartzite uniface or biface pebbles in the Sulphur Spring
period to small wedge-shaped unifacial or bifacial Chiricahua handstones, some having on one face two surfaces or planes angled to each
other.
The manos of the San Pedro were larger and heavier than their
earlier counterparts.
With metates and manos, as with other tool types
of the Cochise Culture, it was not unknown for earlier types to per­
sist unchanged into later periods, complicating the task of segregating
stages on the basis of tool types alone.
As an exception, certain
projectile point forms do seem to occur during a single stage only,
simplifying the problem of dating a site where such forms are known
to occur.
72
When the Cochise Culture was first described by Sayles in 19bl,
he listed six sites as examplars of the earliest or Sulphur Spring
stage. To date, only one other Sulphur Spring site has since been
discovered.
Designated Arizona:CC:13:3 it is located on the west shore
of ancient Lake Cochise (Sayles 1958b: llH).
All are located on White­
water Draw, three to the north of, two to the south of, and one -- the
type site — at Double Adobe.
The absence of projectile points at
those sites seems strange in view of the obvious evidence of hunting,
unless the four Cazador sites and their weapons are linked to the
Sulphur Spring stage.
In addition to the three reasons already given
for the fusion of the Sulphur Spring and Cazador stages into one, an
analysis of the stratipraphy at three Cazador sites (no information
is available on the fourth) will reasonably .justify the union of the
two stages.
At the Sulphur Spring type site (Fip. 1) located 225 feet west
of the old Double Adobe bridge and designated Ariz. FF:10:1 (GP Son.
F:10:l), the basal layer, bed a, consisted of a sterile pink caliche
clay.
Overlying it was bed b having two lenses, the lower sand and
gravel lens called b 1, and the upper sand and silt lens called b 2.
Superimposed over both lenses of bed b was a laminated clay comprising
bed c (Antevs 19bl: U6—U7)•
The layers above bed c are not pertinent
to what follows and may therefore be ignored.
From the sand and
gravel lens, bed b 1, Sayles and Antevs removed tools of the Sulphur
Spring stage alone with hearth stones and bones of two extinct animals:
horse and dire wolf.
Three extant species were also removed from that
o"
7/
1.0ft
30
5m
EI
Laminated
Cloy
Massive
Silt
Laminated
Silt
Pond Clay
X
••a.
Gravel
Cienega
Clay
Heqrth Stone
4
Charcoal
®
Bone
0
Shell
Z
Sand
Artifact
Erosion Surface
"Pink Clay"
Figure 1. Double Adobe, Locale B.--Profile of Sulphur Spring type
site at Double Adobe (Ariz. F?:1C:1), 22$ feet vest of
Old Bridge, excavated by Sayles and Antevs in 193?. In
bed b were found bones of extinct horse and dire wolf,
along with bison, proncrhorn antelope and coyote (from
Sayles and Antevs lyLjl: ?ig. 12).
-o
VjJ
7h
bed.
They were pronghorn antelope, bison, and coyote.
Referring to
the excavations there in 1938, Antevs wrote:
From the overlying laminated clay, bed c, Cummings in 1926
removed the upper jaw, with teeth and tusks, of a mammoth.
In the same bed close to the skull site there were mammoth
ribs exposed in 1936, 1937, and 1938. The occurrence in
the same place of the heavy skull and the light ribs suggests
that they occur in situ (Antevs 19'jl: h7> see also Antevs
1958: h3 in Sayles Papers, 1958).
The site Cummings excavated in 1926 (Fig. 2) was about 150 feet east
of the one Sayles worked on with Antevs in 1938. The proximity of
both site locales to each other accounts for the similarity of geolo­
gical beds in both places.
In the same site area, but at a locale
about 1200 feet west (Fig. 3) of the old Double Adobe bridge, in three
test pits dug in 1956, Sayles recovered from bed b 1 Sulphur Spring
artifacts, hearth stones, and the following fossil forms: the mandible
with two teeth of a mammoth; a large portion of an articulated skeleton
of a camel including a vertebra, the pelvic bone and some teeth; and a
fragment of a mandible with socketed teeth of a dire wolf (Antevs 1958:
^5
Sayles Papers 1958).
At the Double Adobe site, Ariz. FF:10:1 (GP Son. F:10:l), the
Sulphur Spring stage has been identified at three localities and the
Cazador at one (see Fig. It).
Those four localities at Double Adobe
may be segregated as follows:
1.
The site of the first excavation carried out in 1926 by
Cummings about 50 feet west of the old Double Adobe bridge, may be
referred to as Locale A (Fig. 2).
7$
EAST
WEST
0
5
x
x
10
Fipire 2.
Double Adobe, Locale A.—Profile of excavation of mamoth
cranium and tur.ks undertaken in 1926 by Ryron Cwmn^s
and his students at Double Adobe (Ariz. FF:10:l), ^0 feet
west of Old Bridqe (from Sayles 195Ba: ?iR. h9). For
Icrend sec Fip. 1.
Figure 3«
Double Adobe, Locale C.--Profile of excavations and
outline of test pits made by Sayles and Antevs. Test
pits 1, 2, and 3 were made in 1956; test pit U in
1938, at Double Adobe site (Ariz. FF:10:1) 1200 feet
west of Old Bridge. Remains of mammoth, dire wolf
and camel were located in bed b 1 (Sayles 195Ba:
Fig. 50). For legend see Fig. 1.
•-•V- ' . f . 6
^-Ground Surface
(1956)
Streom Bank
(1956)
0^®
I
Fifyare 3.
Houbl e
nobe, Locale C
meters
a
Figure It. Map of Locales A, B, C, and D at Double Adobe. — Four excavated
areas at Double Adobe site Ariz. FF:10:1.
Locale A. Area excavated by Byron Cummings in 1926
assisted by Emil Haury, John McGregor and Lyndon Hargrave.
Mammoth cranium and tusks recovered.
Locale B. Area excavated by Sayles and Antevs in
1938. Sulphur Spring Stage type site. Bones of extinct
horse and dire wolf retrieved.
Locale C. Area excavated by Sayles and Antevs in
1938 and 1956. Mammoth, dire wolf and camel remains
recovered.
Locale D. Area excavated by Sayles and Antevs in
1956. Cazador artifacts found there.
(Sayles 1958a: Fig. 26).
Scale in feet
0 . . . . q°
1
i
i
i
l
°Cocale
I in
• meters 80
N
Double Adobe School
Figure U.
Map of Locales A, B, C, and B at
Double Adobe.
-o
78
2.
The Gila Pueblo excavations of 1936-1938, directed by Sayles
and Antevs 225 feet west of the old Double Adobe bridpe with results
published in 19U1 in the volume entitled The Cochise Culture, may be
referred to as Locale B (Fig. 1).
3.
The work undertaken in 1956 by Sayles and Antevs 1200 feet
west of the old Double Adobe bridge is labeled Locale C (Fig. 3).
U.
The excavation of the Cazador site /.|00 feet west of the old
Double Adobe bridge, is listed Locale D (Fig. 5)#
The four Locales with their respective faunal, artifactual,
and stratigraphic associations are correlated in Table 1.
At Locales
A, B, and C, Sulphur Spring artifacts occur in the sand and gravel
layer bed b 1.
In the same bed b 1 at Locale B (Fig. 1) in association
with the implements were skeletal remains of horse and dire wolf, with
dire wolf reappearing in Locale C (Fip. 3) accompanied by mammoth and
camel.
Kammoth remains occurred in the laminated clay of bed c at
Locales A and B (Figs. 1 and 2).
Since these locales are so close to
each other, Antevs suggested that the skull discovered in 1926 might
belong to the same individual whose ribs were retrieved in 1938.
At
Locale D (Fig. 5) again in the sand and gravel bed b 1 that yielded
Sulphur Spring tools and extinct fauna only a few hundred feet away
at Locales A and B, Cazador artifacts including projectile points were
found.
The artifacts occur mainly in the rusty gravel which rests
directly on top of the eroded surface of the old, pink,
calichified clay, but some are found in the overlyinr? coarse,
rusty sand .... These artifacts occur in a position
similar to that of the Sulphur Spring artifacts in the east
portion of the same arroyo bluff (Antevs 1958: h$).
79
WEST
20 METERS
Figure '5.
Double Adobe, Locale D.---Profile of excavation by Sayles
and Antevs in 19'56 at Double Adobe (Ariz. FF:10:i) hOO
feet wst of Old Bridge. Cazador artifacts found in
bed b (from Sayles 1958a: Fipr. £l). For lepend see
TT-i
1
Table 1.
Geological Beds
Bed C
Four locales at Double Adobe site.
Ariz. FF:10:1 (GP Son. 10:1)
Locale A
50' W. of Bridge
Ctunraines 1926^-
Locale B
Locale C
Locale D
1200' W. of Bridge
IiOO' W, of Bridge
225' W. of Bridge
Sayle3 & Antevs 193-^ Sayles & Antevs 19563 Sayles & Antevs 1956^
Mammoth maxilla, tusks
and teeth
Mammoth - ribs
Bed B
b 2 Sand and
" Silt
b 1 Sand and
Gravel
—
Bed A
Pink Caliche
1.
Cazador artifacts
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
Sulphur Spring
artifacts. Korse
and Dire Wolf
Sulphur Springartifacts. Mammoth
mandible and 2
teeth, Camel and
Dire Wolf
Cazador artifacts
Pink Caliche
Pink Caliche
Pink Caliche
Pink Caliche
Cummings 1928.
2. Sayles and Antevs 19U1.
3. Sayles 1958a; Antevs 1958.
The Cazador artifact layer extended upward into lens b 2 of bed b.
About three miles northwest of Double Adobe along Whitewater Draw at
Sulphur Spring site Ariz. FF:10:5 (OP Pearce 8:10) Cazador artifacts
were located in 1956 in the same levels that furnished Sulphur Spring
artifacts in 1938 (see Table 2).
A stratigraphic profile (Fie. 6) of
the site depicting the location of Cazador tools in beds a, b, e, and
f is an exact replica of an identical profile illustrating the loca­
tion of Sulphur Spring material removed from beds a, b, d, e, and f in
1938 (Fig. 7, and Antevs 19U1: lj9).
Consequently at the Sulphur Soring site Ariz. FF:10:1 at Double
Adobe (Locale D, Fig. $) and at the Sulphur Spring site Ariz. FF:10:£
(Figs. 6 and 7, Antevs 19hl: b9) three miles to the northwest, the same
stratigraphic and geological beds that provided Sulphur Sprinp arti­
facts in 1938, provided Cazador tools and projectile points in 19^6.
From this it seems clear that the six Sulphur Spring sites represent
the gathering and food processing aspects of that cultural stage while
the four Cazador sites are the hunting facet of the same cultural
stage. Two Sulphur Spring sites do not have a Cazador perspective
associated with them; they have only Sulphur Spring stage tools.
From
a comparison of profiles at those two sites it would appear that the
Sulphur Spring stage did manifest a huntinp orientation complete with
projectile points, that had been regarded as the Cazador stage.
It
seems likely that the Sulphur Spring and Cazador belong to the same
stage, each manifestation reflecting a different functional activity
of the same prehistoric population.
Table 2. Sulphur Spring and Cazador sites on vrnitewater Draw.
Ariz. FF:10:5
(G? Pearce 8:10)
19381
1956 2
f
sand
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
Cazador artifacts
e
massive pond clay
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
Cazador artifacts
d
sand and silt
(laminated)
C-P Pearce 8:21^
e
massive pond clay
d
massive silt
19562
Cazador artifacts
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
c
massive pond clay
b
sand and silt
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
Cazador artifacts
c
sand and silt
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
a
gravel and sand
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
Cazador artifacts
b
gravel
Sulphur Spring
artifacts
a
pink caliche
1. Sayles and Antevs 19k1.
2.
Sayles 1958a; Antevs 1958.
3.
Sayles 1958a: Fig. 52.
20
30
40
~12
Figure 6.
50
60
16
70
20
24
Profile of Csrt.-dor sit? O.P. F*?.rce Q:i0 (Ariz,
.—7hre<
miles northv.?3t or Double Adobe, Os-ador arti^cts vere located
in beds a, b» e, and ? in 19!?6 (from Savies 19?5a: Fie. 53)•
For Ic'-cnd see Fig. 1,
28
meters
10 FT
no
To
Fisrjre ?«
Profile of Sulphur Spring Stape at G.P. Pearce 8:10
(A.riz• FFslQt?^ • --Thrss rrilcs novvhvss't of Double Adobe,
Sulphur Sprinr artifacts cccurrcd in beds a, b, c, e,
and f in 1938 (from Sayles and Antevs iPlil: Fig. lb).
For legend see Fir:, I.
8*
A third Cazador site, GP Pearce 8:21 (Fig. 8), on Whitewater
Draw about four miles northwest of Double Adobe has a stratigraphy that
resembles in some geological features Cazador site Ariz. FF:10:5 about
a mile away.
It too was excavated in 1956.
In gravel layer or bed b
resting on a pink caliche base a and in sand and silt bed c were
Sulphur Spring artifacts. Higher up in a pond clay layer, bed e,
overlying silt bed d, were distributed Cazador implements.
Here at
this site Cazador follows in stratigraphic seouence the Sulphur Spring,
it is true, but when the layers are correlated with corresponding
layers in site FF:10:5 where artifacts of both stapes were distributed
in the same beds, the stratipraphic separation of Sulphur Spring and
Cazador is not as mutually exclusive a3 may seem at first sight, but
may represent different functional activities performed at different
times and deposited accordingly.
At Ariz. FF:10:5, Sulphur Spring
materials were dispersed throughout five beds in four of which Cazador
tools were subsequently found.
The correlation of those two sites
appears in Table 2.
Further evidence for the identity of the Cazador stage with
the Sulphur Spring appears in this statement by Antevs (1962: 1914-195)
who worked with Sayles in the discovery of the Cazador artifacts in
1956.
In the Cazador type site at Double Adobe /identified in this
report as Ariz. FF:'10:1, Locale D7» artifacts occur in gravel
and coarse sand. The sand is stratified by silt laminae
which are l/2 inch thick and spaced 5-6 inches. The lami­
nations suggest perennial, fluctuating stream flow. The sand
is overlain by a massive t>ond clay lacking artifacts or char­
coal. The clay bed is ^or the most part 1 foot thick but at
Martin's pollen profile 3 feet. At other sites /identified
86
SOUTH
NORTH
0H
2
3H
4
-1
56-2
7-
r^TiluiJJ
89-
i <3. i. • <2>;;.'*-><
'•; '• ;* i*
40
i
0
Fipuro 8.
"I
12
feet
Meters
Profile of Sulphur Spring 5t??e and Cazador silo 5.P.
Pearce 8:21.--Sulphur Sorinp artifacts occnri'P-i i.n
bctds b and c; Cay.ador artifacts iri bed e (from Sayles
TV'jca: Fip, ^2)« For legend, see Fifnire 1.
87
in this report as Ariz. FF:10:5 (G.P. Pearce 8:10) and G.P.
Pearce 8:217 Cazador implements occur in beds ranping from
gravel to clay. With the artifacts have been found a diatom
flora of 17 species, shells of laree mussels and small clams,
and a fish vertebra. From this evidence I have concluded a
subhumid climate. . . . Thus the Cazador beds at Double Adobe,
just as do the Sulphur Spring beds, represent a subhumid, not
an arid climate.
The location of Cazador implements in "gravel and coarse sand
stratified by silt laminae" at the Double Adobe tyne site corresponds
to beds bl and b 2 (see Table 1).
The provenience of Cazador artifacts
at the other sites "in beds ranging from gravel to clay" correlates
•with beds a, b, c and f at Pearce 8:10, previously identified as stratigraphic lenses where Sulphur Spring artifacts appeared in 1938 (see
Table 2).
Note also that Cazador beds, like Sulphur Spring beds,
suggest a subhumid climate.
Such a climate could have occurred only
during the Anathermal, which ended about £,£00 B.C.
Besides the problem of documenting the relationship of the
Sulphur Spring and Cazador stages, is that involved in explaining the
configuration of Sulphur Spring tools with extinct megafauna.
At
Locales A, B, and C of the type site (see Table l) Sulphur Spring
tools are found either below or within geological beds havincr skeletal
and dental remains of mammoth, horse, camel and dire wolf.
At Locales
B and C, Sulphur Spring tools are diffused in the same bed as two or
more of the extinct species.
In Locales A and B mammoth bones appeared
in the adjacent ascending bed.
Among archaeologists and geochronolo-
gists there is general unanimity that mammoth, horse, and camel became
extinct about 9,000 B.C. and certainly before 8,000 B.C. in the sense
that restoration of the species, assuming a few scattered individuals
still survived, would have been impossible (Haynes 1966: 19j Mehringer
1967b: 2U9). So far as mammoth is concerned, it would seem that it
88
became extinct long before 8,OCX) B.C.
In support of that view are
dates derived from mammoth kill sites by reliable radiometric deter­
minations.
Those dates all converge on a time slightly over 11,000
years agoj for example, Dent, 11,200; Blackwater No. 1, 11,266; Union
Pacific (not exactly a kill site but one where two artifacts, neither
a projectile, were found with mammoth), 11,280; Lehner, 11,108; and
Domebo, 11,132 (Haynes 1967b: 269-273). The only discordant date is
that of the San Bartolo mammoth at Atepehuacan, Mexico, whose demise
is recorded 9,670 years ago.
This late date may be due to contamina­
tion of the sample or to inaccuracy in calibrating it.
Of course, it
must be admitted that an indeterminate period of time could have
elapsed between the widespread hunting of mammoth and the actual
extinction of the species. Leaving aside any conjectures, the weight
of evidence from a series of mammoth kills favors a time slightly in
excess of 11,000 years ago.
Vance Haynes states unequivocally that
Rancholabrean fauna could not have survived to 9,000 years ago,
whether in Whitewater Draw or elsewhere (personal communication 1971).
The extinction date compiled for horse and camel, like that suggested
for mammoth, has also centered around 11,000 years ago (Martin 1967:
9?J Martin and Guilday 1967: JUl, 1(2,
b6). Dire wolves probably sur­
vived until the end of the Pleistocene.
Their remains have been
encountered in deposits at Ventana Cave, Jaeuar Cave, and Gypsum Cave,
but as a species they probably perished about the same time as mammoth,
horse, and camel (Colbert 1950: 131-32; IbO-hl; Bryan 1965: 158-159;
Harrington 1933: I8I4, 185, 193).
89
In view of their apparent antiquity, the Pleistocene megafauna
unearthed at Double Adobe present an enigma, since radiocarbon dates
for the Sulphur Spring stage oscillate between 7,910 and 9,350 years
ago, with a mean of 8U90 B.P., while the extinct faunal remains osten­
sibly became extinct 2,£00 years earlier.
It is entirely possible
that enclaves of threatened Pleistocene mammals lingered on in par­
ticularly congenial environments long after the main body of their
species had succumbed to hostile forces — human or climatic or both
— elsewhere.
At present there is no evidence to refute the possi­
bility of that interpretation.
On the other hand it is also possible
that the megafaunal remains do not occur in primary deposits at Double
Adobe as Haynes surmised (Haynes, personal communication 1971), but
only in secondary ones.
If that were so, the animal bones and teeth
could be older than the geological levels in which they repose, and
the dates ascribed for cultural remains would in no way apply to
animal remains.
Furthermore, did those animals expire as victims of human
predation or did they die from natural causes?
The literature mentions
burned and broken animal bones without identifying whether the bones
belonged to extinct or extant species.
If they belonged to extinct
species, then human hunters presumably dispatched them before 9,000
B.C., a date incompatible with those obtained radiometrically for the
Sulphur Spring stage.
If the herbivores (and dire wolf also) were
annihilated by Sulphur Spring hunters (Cazador aspect) in the seventh
or eighth millenium B.C., then they must represent relict populations
that managed to survive beyond the terminal date usually acknowledged
for their extinction.
If, on the other hand, the charred and burned
bones belonged to extant species, the Pleistocene fauna could be well
over 11,000 years old but encapsulated at Double Adobe in a secondary
deposition.
To epitomize the relationship between Cochise cultural remains
and extinct Pleistocene mammals, two alternatives are submitted:
1.
If the Pleistocene fauna were in secondary deposits and had
been exploited in hunting expeditions, then their demise would coincide
with the time of the Paleo-Indian Big Game Hunters and Clovis points
would be expected and should be found at Double Adobe, not in their
original context but in redeposition.
2.
If the animals were in primary deposits, then they must repre­
sent surviving populations that outlived by several thousand years the
severe selective pressures that first menaced then finally obliterated
their species elsewhere.
In that case, if those mammalian survivors
were hunted at Double Adobe, one would not anticipate finding 11,000
year-old Clovis points but instead, projectiles of a type and style
current 3,000 years or so later.
If the mammals expired from natural
causes, projectile points need not occur in the deposits.
The one
constant in this second alternative is the presupposition that the
radiocarbon dates attributed to the Sulphur Spring stage are accurate.
To conclude:
if mammoth, horse, camel and dire wolf were in
primary deposition, then either the Cochise Culture is much older than
radiometric determinations have so far conveyedj or, if Sulphur Spring
dates are accurate and reliable, then Pleistocene mammals survived
much longer than hitherto suspected.
If the animal remains were in
secondary deposition, they could have died from any cause, natural or
predacious within the time limits generally acknowledged for their
extinction, that is, prior to 9,000 B.C.
Although only seven sites have so far been discovered, the
Sulphur Spring stage is a critical one posing two major problems:
the
first revolving around its hunting aspect, here identified with the
Cazador; and the other concerning its relationship with extinct Pleis­
tocene fauna.
It appears that the first problem has been resolved}
the resolution of the second awaits the accumulation of further data
at both Double Adobe and Early Man sites elsewhere.
A drastic re­
vision in chronology either for the initial date of the Cochise Culture
or for the terminal date of extinct Pleistocene fauna is still a
possibility. The Chiricahua stage and the succeeding San Pedro are
less perplexing.
Chiricahua sites are dispersed in southeastern and
south-central Arizona as far west as Ventana Cave, and eastward to
the western part of New Mexico.
Attenuations of the Chiricahua are
visible in northern Mexico and similarities to it are observable in
central New Mexico and in northern Arizona.
The Chiricahua period
was a crucial one in Southwestern development for durinp its time
agriculture was introduced from Mexico.
One of the first indications
of corn in the Southwest in the form of pre-Chapalote pod appeared
in Bat Cave, New Mexico about 2,000 B.C. (Dick 1965s 10£).
Martin
and Schoenwetter (i960: 33-3U) found corn pollen in the Chiricahua
and San Pedro levels of Cochise Culture in the Cienega Creek site on
the San Carlos Reservation in small quantities in count and percentage,
k2 grains out of 57,000, but present nevertheless.
Concurrent with the
introduction of corn was the appearance of squash or pumpkin (Dick
1965: 105).
Both cultigens — corn and squash ~ probably diffused
north through the valleys of the Sierra Madre Occidental growing along
stream beds and river alluvium It,000 years ago, planted and cultivated
by local natives alont? the route northward.
A thousand years later,
during the San Pedro stage about 1,000 B.C. red kidney beans arrived
completing the trinity of domesticates imported from Mesoamerica
(Dick 1965: 92-99).
At Tularosa Cave, also in western New Mexico,
corn, squash, and beans were found in the San Pedro stage, the earliest
horizon represented at that site (Martin and others 1952: I468, U70).
At Ventana Cave, with its long history encompassing over ten millenia,
only corn and squash, the latter in minute quantities, were found in
the middens, and those occurred only in conjunction with the appearance
of pottery about the time of Christ (Haury 1950: 161-165).
A provoca­
tive question involving the conditions prereouisite for culture change
concerns the reason why the Cochise Culture, apparently in possession
of cultigens for approximately two millenia failed to maximize the
potential inherent in those domesticates and accumulate the surplus
agricultural resources basic to village life.
In the concluding chap­
ter this problem vrlll be explored in depth and the concept of culture
with its articulated subsystems will be examined in detail.
A variety of plant and animal foods enriched the diet of the
Cochise people.
Excavations at three cave sites — Bat Cave, Tularosa
Cave, and Ventana Cave ~ and the work done by Sayles at sites in
Cochise County in the latter 1930's have revealed interesting infor­
mation on food resources tapped by Cochise societies through a long
span of time.
In the Cochise Culture report of 19lil Sayles (I9hl: 12,
20, 2U) referred to a group of fauna embedded in a wide range of sites
scattered throughout Cochise County.
For the sake o*" simplicity, in
Table 3 and in this discussion those fauna are grouped under the single
heading of Cochise County, rather than separately according to the
individual sites in which they were observed. Furthermore, the report
of 19hl is the only one that presents possible food resources of the
Sulphur Spring stage since that report alone provides collectively
some indication of the faunal remains recovered at the six Sulphur
Spring sites (Sayles 19hli 12; 1955a: 6U-68).
Among the dietary
nutrients of the Sulphur Spring stape may be enumerated pronghom
antelope, bison, jackrabbit, coyote, snow poose, and two species of
duck:
mallard and river teal.
Fresh water mussels and clams, indi­
cative of a subhumid climate, also occur (Antevs 1962: 19h).
Mammoth,
horse, camel, and dire wolf, all extinct species, may be conjectural
food sources if indeed they were contemporary with and exploited by
Sulphur Sprinp hunters.
Finally the raven, whose value as nourish­
ment is ambiguous, and with no certainty that he was killed for food
anyway, completes the inventory 0^ Sulphur Spring fauna.
With regard
to utilized plants, there is no information whatever.
The presence of coyote in all three stages of the sequence in
Cochise County sites indicate his importance as a source of sustenance.
9k
Table 3. Fauna at Cochise Culture sites.
Species
Cochise
County
S.Sp. Chiri
Mammoth
?
Camel
Dire Wolf
?
?
?
Snow Goose
X
Mallard Duck
X
Teal Duck
X
Raven
X
Coyote
X
X
Bison
X
X
Mussel
X
Horse
Turtle
X
Clams
X
Pronghorn Ant.
X
S.P.
X
Ventana
Cave
Chiri S.P.
X
Bat
Cave
Chiri S.P.
Unk
Tularosa
S.P.
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
Cottontail
X
X
X
X
Sonora Deer
X
X
Woodrat
X
X
X
X
Porcupine
X
X
X
X
Wolf
X
X
X
X
X
Mule Deer
Jackrabbit
X
Gopher
X
X
X
Rock So.uirrel
X
X
X
Wildcat
X
X
X
Kit Fox
X
X
X
Prairie Dog
X
X
X
Badger
X
X
Bighorn Sheep
X
X.
X
X
9$
Table 3«
Species
Ringtail Cat
Gray Fox
Elk
Duck
Hawk
Muskrat
Turkey
Fauna at Cochise Culture sites—Continued.
Cochise
Ventana
Bat
TulaCounty
Cave
Cave
rosa
S.Sp. Chiri S.P. Chiri S.P. Chiri S.P. Unk S.P.
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
x
Jackrabbit, bison and antelope seem to have been favorite game since
they recur in the Chiricahua as they did in the Sulphur Spring.
During
the Chiricahua, turtle and deer appeared on the menu and in the case
of turtle, endured into the San Pedro.
Quantitatively, of the sites
explored in Cochise County in the 1930's, 11; species of animals were
isolated in the SulDhur Spring stage, six in the Chiricahua, and two
in the San Pedro (Sayles and Antevs 19U1: 6!±).
This seems to contra­
dict the priority placed on food gathering in the earlier stages
(Sayles 19b1: lh» Sayles 1958a: 66, 68) — substantiated by the high
frequencies of grinding implements — and the shift to hunting in
later stages.
Most likely sample error accounts for this discrepancy.
The three excavated caves furnishes a more accurate appraisal of food
intake during the Chiricahua and San Pedro stages.
Among animal bones common to all three caves were pronghorn
antelope, Sonora and mule deer, wolf, porcupine, gopher, jackrabbit
and cottontail, and woodrat.
All these species interlaced both Chiri­
cahua and San Pedro levels in Ventana Cave with the exception of wolf
who appeared only in the Chiricahua and gopher who appeared only in
the San Pedro level (Haury 1950: 15U, Fig. 17).
Since the preceramic
horizon at ^ularosa Cave was confined to the San Pedro, the nine
species enumerated above came from that time period (Martin and others
1952: 20lt).
At Bat Cave, antelope and the two species of deer were in
San Pedro levels; the provenience of the remainder is unknown (Dick
1965: 90-92).
With regard to other species, rock souirrel, wildcat,
kit fox, and prairie dog permeated Chiricahua and San Pedro horizons
at Ventana Cave (Haury 1950s 152, Table 10; 151»: Fig. 17; Martin and
others 1952: 20li) and also at Tularosa.
Found singly at each cave with
no crosscutting repititions were ringtail cat in the San Pedro with
gray fox and coyote in Chiricahua and San Pedro at Ventana Cave; bison
and elk at Bat Cave; and duck, turkey, hawk, and muskrat in Tularosa
(Haury 1950: 15U» Fig. 17; Dick 1965: 90-91; Martin and others 1952:
20U).
Altogether Ventana contained 18 species of fauna, with 16 in
the Chiricahua and 17 in the San Pedro.
Bat Cave had 13 species:
five identified as San Pedro level, bison in both Chiricahua and San
Pedro, and the rest indeterminate.
Tularosa Cave had 17 species all
of San Pedro vintage (see Table 3).
In vegetal or plant foods all three caves produced corn and
squash (or pumpkin, Haury 1950: 161; Martin and others 1952: Ii70; Dick
1965: 92-99).
In addition, Bat Cave and Tularosa Cave had beans in
their refuse but only in the San Pedro levels (Dick 1965: 98-99; Martin
and others 1952: U70-U71). Tularosa had a selection of plant foods
consisting of 21 species, nine from the San Pedro period and the rest
from an unlisted provenience (Martin and others 1952: I463—U79* U86);
they may belong to the Mogollon levels and should be excluded here.
Three of the 21 species are domesticates and the rest natural or wild.
Bat Cave also had 21 species of olant food of which nine were of
Chiricahua age including the domesticates corn and squash (Dick 1965:
89, Table 13).
Of the nine types at Ventana Cave two were domesticated
and the remainder natural (Haury 1950: l6l).
Amonp, the non-cultivated
natural plant foods from the three caves were:
sunflower seeds, pine
nuts, juniper berries, prickly pear buds, red berries, walnuts, cattail
seeds, festuca seeds, bluegrass seeds, trisetum seeds, bulrush seeds,
acorns, goosefoot seeds, saltbush seeds, amaranth seeds, sagebrush
seeds, primrose seeds, beargra3s seeds, Indian grass seeds, blue grama
seeds, coffee berries, sahuaro buds and seeds, blue palo verde seed3,
mesquite seeds, cottonwood and willow seeds, agave and yucca tubers
(see Table U).
The wide variety of seeds in this partial inventory of
plant foods harvested during Chiricahua and San Pedro times justifies
the frequency of grinding tools found in the Cochise Culture. The
increase in variety of seeds in the San Pedro period compared with the
Chiricahua at Bat Cave may explain the appearance of mortars and
pestles at that time. The Cochise people were exploiting a wide range
of plant products in their gathering operations as these categories of
three cultivated and 30 natural plants indicate.
A catalogue of plants
used either as food or as medicine was compiled by Steward (193^'• lh32) from ethnographic observations in the Great Basin.
several hundred exploitable species.
It contains
The 33 enumerated here are only
a fraction of that number because they were probably the only ones
that survived and could be recognized.
Undoubtedly many others were
used for culinary and medicinal purposes and for other needs as well
such as yucca fibers to make cordage, barrel cactus spines for sewing
needles, willow for basketry, mesquite for firewood, cane Muhly and
arrowweed for arrow shafts, etc. At Ventana Cave Haury (19!>0: 168169) extracted a group of non-cultivated plants that fulfilled a
variety of purposes in daily living.
99
Table U. Flora at Cochise Culture sites.
Species
Bat Cave
Chiri San Pedro
Tularosa Cave
San Pedro Unknown
Ventana
Cave
Unknown
Corn
xxx
x
Squash (pumpkin)
xxx
x
Beans
x
Acorns
x
Agave
Amaranth Seeds
x
x
x
x
x
x
Beargrass Seeds
Blue Grama Seeds
x
x
Blue Grass Seeds
x
x
x
x
Blue Palo Verde Seeds
x
Bulrush Rhyzomes
x
Cattail Seeds
x
x
Century Plant
x
Coffee Berry
x
Cottonwood Seeds
x
Goosefoot Seeds
x
Festuca Seeds
x
x
Indian Grass Seeds
Juniper Berries
x
x
x
Mesquite Seeds
x
Oregon Grape
x
Pine Nuts
x
Prickly pear Buds
x
Primrose Seeds
x
x
x
Red Berry
x
Sagebrush Seeds
x
Sahuaro Buds and Seeds
x
Saltbush Seeds
Sunflower Seeds
x
x
x
x
x
100
Table U. Flora at Cochise Culture sites—Continued
Species
Bat Cave
Chiri San Pedro
Trisetum Seeds
Walnuts
Tularosa Cave
San Pedro Unknown
x
xx
x
Willow Seeds
Yucca Pods
Ventana
Cave
Unknown
x
x
x
x
x
101
The climate in the Southwest during the Cochise sequence has
been discussed and evaluated in the preceding chapter.
The beginning
date of 7,500 B.C. for the Sulphur Spring stage coincides with the
commencement of the Valders recession (Bryan and Gruhn 196U: 310).
This was the Anathermal of Antevs (1955: 322-29).
The weather at that
time was moist and cool, not excessively or severely as during a
glacial epoch, but in relation to the Altithermal that followed.
The
intervention of the Two Creeks Interstadial 12,000 years ago had
triggered a rapid change in vegetation in the Southwest producing a
pollen spectrum more closely resembling post-glacial rather than
glacial conditions (Martin and Mehringer 1965: it39-khO),
was a characteristic feature of post-glacial climate.
Stability
Sudden oscil­
lations in weather were replaced during the post-glacial with a gradual
propensity toward increasing warmth and dryness.
There is little
pollen evidence of any major climatic shifts from the Anathermal
(8,000 B.C. to 5,500 B.C.) to present times (Mehringer and Haynes
1965: 23).
Minor fluctuations did occur but these transpired only
gradually.
The major plant communities on vjhich Pleistocene herbi­
vores browsed or grazed are with us still, but at higher elevations.
Vertical displacement of the same vegetational species from lower to
higher altitudes, inferred from pollen spectra at archaeological sites
compared with modern pollen rain (Martin 1963b: 69), substantiates the
hypothesis of gradual change during the past 10,000 years.
In assessing paleoclimates it would be a disservice to sub­
scribe wholeheartedly to one hypothesis to the exclusion of alternative
102
explanations,
at point.
Martin's postulate of a wet Altithermal is a question
The pollen record for the Southwest does indicate moister
conditions than the Bryan-Antevs model would allow.
But this must not
obscure the portable character of pollen which can be blown consider­
able distances by wind and deposited in an environment ouite at
variance with the one the pollen rain would suggest.
Germane to this
problem of pollen interpretation distorting the actual vegetational
scene, is the presence or absence of adequate vegetational cover be­
tween the area where pollen is generated and that where it is deposited
(Martin and Mehringer 1965: Ub3).
The Altithermal may have been wet
but for one season only — the summer, which is the important growing
period — and arid the rest of the year. This is essentially what
Martin proposed (1963b: 3-U) in his advocacy of a "Mexican monsoon."
Conceivably Martin and Antevs could both be right, depending upon the
season under discussion.
The infiltration of agriculture U,000 years
ago into areas presently dessicated, e.g., the San Augustin Plains of
New Mexico, suggests, in the absence of water control devices as
irrigation, a dependable quantity of rain delivered during the appro­
priate growing season.
More investigation and more evidence must be
accumulated before definitive statements can be made on climatic con­
ditions during the Altithermal.
Meanwhile the possibility of a wet
or a dry Altithermal must be conceded.
CHAPTER h
COCHISE CULTURE SITES IN THE SAN PEDRO VALLEY
The geographical area of southeastern Arizona selected for
archaeological survey lies between the parallels of latitude 31° U51
N. and 31° 55' N., and between the meridians of longitude 110° 13' E.
and 110° 23' E.
Physiographically the eastern part of this territory
consists of a winding river valley whose stream bed proceeds in a
north-northwesterly direction from old Mexico to its junction with the
Gila River 75 miles away.
The river called the San Pedro, which is
dry most of the year, flows torrentially during heavy summer storms
but less violently during winter precipitation.
Today the river chan­
nel is deeply trenched along most of its course due to arroyo cutting
first noticeable about 1890 (Hastings and Turner 1965: 3)»
Since the
river flows northward, the difference in elevation between the southern
and northern limits of the area surveyed is approximately 200 feet,
descending from 3,800 feet in the south to 3»600 feet ten miles to the
north.
From the alluvial plain the valley rises westward toward, the
Whetstone mountains ten miles distant.
Oscillating between one and
two miles from the San Pedro river rises a terrace or escarpment 50 to
60 feet high, overlooking the floodplain and becoming progressively
higher as it proceeds toward the west, with the foothills adjacent to
the mountains standing at an elevation of U,900 feet.
the Whetstone mountains exceed 7,500 feet in height.
103
The summit of
ioU
Descending from the canyons in the mountains and emptying east­
ward into the San Pedro river below are a series of washes or streams
whose terraces harbored the Cochise sites discussed in this report.
Like the San Pedro river itself, these stream channels are dry for
most of the year, but flow with considerable force during rainy seasons
in the latter half of the summer and in mid-winter, feeding the rush­
ing waters of the river below.
Two distinct tyoes of bedrock structure bisect the Whetstone
mountains along a northwost-southeast axis.
The northern half is com­
posed of granite; the southern half consists of limestone.
Vegeta-
tional communities on the bajada fan sloping downward from the eroding
pediments of the mountains vary according to the type of soil derived
from the granite or limestone half of the mountains.
The northern
bajada between the mountains and the river supports a grassland biota
sprinkled with occasional mesquite trees.
In contrast, the southern
bajada sustains a Desertscrub plant community of Chihuahuan Desert
affiliation consisting of yucca, tarbush, creosotebush, whitethorn,
and strands of ocotillo (cf. Lowe 196b: 3-50).
Both forms of vege-
tational community lie within the Lower Sonoran life zone.
In the survey of the one hundred square mile area lying between
the mountains and the river, conducted between November 1966, and April
1969, a total of 90 prehistoric sites was discovered.
pight were ceramic and 82 non-ceramic sites.
Of that number
All were surface sites
situated on terraces of the gently slopinrr bajada sweeping down
toward the river.
All overlooked the major stream channels coursing
105
down the mountains, or were clustered around springs nestled close to
the foothills.
Today those streams are generally dry but in more
ancient times they undoubtedly furnished a steady supply and flow of
water.
The streams originate in the recesses of the mountains, and
when running, as they do during summer showers, proceed in an easterly
direction toward the San Pedro below.
Bordering what in prehistoric
times had been gradually sloping stream banks but today are yawning
chasms, some over 60 feet deep, were the remnants of Cochise Culture
sites.
Proximity to water must have been an overriding concern for
no Cochise sites were encountered in the expansive tracts intervening
between stream channels.
Of the 90 sites located in the survey, five
were adjacent to the alluvial flood plain; of these four were ceramic
sites postdating the Cochise Culture.
Twenty-nine sites were located
two or three miles up the major stream channels while the remaining 56
dotted the hillsides and slopes adjoining the mountains.
The Cochise
sites paralleled the Sacaton, French Joe, California, Dry Canyon,
Middle Canyon and Guindani canyon washes, and other major stream chan­
nels that on the maps are nameless.
The Cochise sites ranged in size
from small "use" areas, to adopt a term coined by Davis (1963s 20ii),
to rather large habitation or camp sites.
The density of lithic re­
mains did not invariably correlate with the size of a site. Some
sites had a large quantity of lithics compressed into a small area;
others were large spatially but impoverished in quantity of artifacts.
Still others balanced more equitably in the ratio of site size and
lithic frequency.
106
Twelve of the 82 non-ceramic sites were selected for study.
They were dichotomized areally into two groups comprising six by the
hillsides and six nearer the river (Fig. 9).
The six sites of each
group were further divided into three large and three small.
Generally
speaking, hillside sites were larger than those by the river in size
and in lithic quantity, but in contrast to this, the three small sites
by the river were slightly larger spatially than their counterparts
near the mountains (Table $)•
which they were discovered.
Sites were numbered in the sequence in
In size they varied between 2^0 square
meters and 1,091 square meters.
In keeping with tradition and for
convenience and consistency, the metric system was employed in field
work and in subsequent analysis of tool dimensions.
Sites were classified large or small on the basis of one cri­
terion alone — that of geographical size — regardless of the
profusion or paucity of lithics upon them (Table
cj).
In the case of
four sites, artifacts from all the grids were completely removed in
contrast to the remaining eight from which one-third was stripped.
In order to make an equitable comparison of lithic quantities on each
site and for accurate statistical calculations of all sites, those
completely stripped were reduced in their number of artifacts by twothirds with the size of the site reduced correspondingly.
The four
sites so diminished in lithic quantity and areal dimensions from 100
percent to 33 percent representation were sites U5, 58, 77, and 90.
For the remaining eight sites the size or souare meter area of each
was reduced mathematically to one-third of its original size as with
Table
Site
Ho.
Designation
5.
Site description and lithic quantity.
Altitude
Size
(sq. mtrs.)
Stripped
Percent
Stripped
Finished
Ground
Kanufactaring
Total
Lithics
12
30909
31352
3031
3155
1909
1980
1281
1308
5182
5262
616
63U
US
Mtn
-
Large
U775
1091
1091
100
U31
h6
Mtn
-
Large
U760
872
291
33
12U
88
Mtn
-
Large
U750
668
223
33
69
89
Mtn
-
Small
U750
U66
Ihl
30
27
39
Mtn
-
Small
U760
3U8
129
37
7h
70
Mtn
Small
U900
250
8U
33
18
77
Riv
-
Large
38UO
757
757
100
hi
3
1101
65
Riv
-
Large
3960
635
216
33
25
6
750
781
52
Riv
-
Large
3825
58U
195
33
15
280
295
66
Riv
-
Small
3960
562
188
33
50
5
620
675
58
Riv
-
Small
3920
323
323
100
25
2U
122
171
90
Riv
-
Small
3960
252
252
100
16
600
616
U6U01
U737U
915
2
6
58
*5
111
108
the other four; but the lithic quantity remained the same since only
one-third had been removed in the first place.
Conseouently, all
statistical calculations were computed on the premise of a one-third
site size with a corresponding 33 percent of the total lithic inven­
tory available at each site.
In summary, lithic quantities on eight
sites remained unchanged but total site size was reduced to one-third.
On four sites — U5, 58, 77, and 90 — both lithic quantities and
total site sizes were reduced to one-third.
While a site generally comprised a solid, unbroken geographical
or spatial unit, in three instances it consisted of two discrete parts,
separated from each other.
Influencing the decision to combine two
parts into one site were the factors of spatial proximity between the
parts; similarity in tool assemblages at each part; and geological
resemblance of the surface of one part with that of the other.
In no
case were two parts of a site more than 75 meters distant from each
other.
The three sites composed of two oarts were 58, 65, and 77.
It
may be mentioned that the area separating two parts of a site was not
culturally sterile but exhibited a lesser density of lithics than that
manifested in either part.
No site was selected for stripping until all sites had been
visited, in some cases three or four times, notes on each studied, its
spatial extent and lithic density appraised, and comparisons with all
other sites had been made.
Even though their number of artifacts was
small, four sites (52, 58, 77, and 90) were among those selected to
assure as broad a representation as possible (Table 6).
Once a site
109
Table 6.
Sites by
Location
and Size
Distribution of lithics in selected Montane and Riverine
sites equalized at 33 percent.
Site Areas
in Square
Meters
Finished
dumber of Lithics
Ground
Manufacturing
Total
Montane
large
Ihh
US
U6
36h
291
88
223
12U
69
small
89
1U1
27
39
129
7U
70
Qh
18
77
252
Hi
tiS
216
25
52
195
15
small
66
188
50
58
108
8
90
8h
5
h
10303
10li5l
2
3031
1909
3155
1980
1281
1308
5182
5262
616
63U
1
367
382
6
750
781
280
295
620
675
hi
200
57
205
2U580
25185
6
Riverine
large
Total
573
5
8
32
110
was selected and its limits defined, vegetation was cleared and, with
the aid of a Brunton compass, grid lines intersecting at right anprles
were laid down along north-south, east-west axes.
With those lines as
focal points, one meter grid squares were plotted on the ground, using
six-inch galvanized tile nails coated in orange paint as conspicuous
markers.
After counting the squares and preparing a map of the site,
a simple random sample of one-third of the total number of grid squares
was stripped.
In deciding which grid squares to strip and which to
neglect, a statistical table of random numbers generated by computer
was used. That had the advantage of reducing the possibility of per­
sonal bias or prejudice from entering into the selection.
In the
actual process of stripping, the exact location of all tools, finished
and ground, and hammerstones was recorded in situ.
Flake debitage was
recorded in terms of the square from which it was collected.
In
noting the exact provenience of tools, the southwest corner of each
square served as the control point for measuring asimuth and distance
calculated in centimeters.
Those two variables of azimuth and distance
positioned each tool collected.
90°.
The azimuth spanned between 0° to
Altogether, from a total of 6,808 square meters constituting the
combined area of all 12 sites, 3,890 square meters were stripped of
their artifacts.
Surface collecting admits of some advantages but incurs some
disadvantages as well.
Among the advantages, the material destined
for recovery is immediately at handj in excavation, what lies below
remains unknown until exposed.
Also, surface collecting is rapid
Ill
since it prescinds from the need of controlled vertical digging.
In
addition it is easier to record provenience of artifacts in two hori­
zontal dimensions only, without recourse to the vertical locus.
But
surface collecting imposes serious handicaps as well. There is always
the danger that archaeological material had been disturbed and tool
ratios distorted by vandalism on the part of amateurs.
Cattle, horses,
deer, and smaller animals may disturb the position of artifacts or
fracture them by inadvertent trampling on open sites.
Another diffi­
culty germane to surface collecting is the mixture of successive
stages of the same culture or of different cultures due to the dis­
placement of the original surface by erosion, tectonic activities, or
climatic factors. Finally, the only implements that seem to survive
the rigors of surface exposure are lithics, which constitute only a
fraction of the full range and complement of a culture's material in­
ventory.
Bone, wood, antler, textiles, basketry, cordage, netting,
etc. eventually disintegrate and disappear from surface sites.
The selection of 12 sites of different sizes from two environ­
mental zones was decided upon in order to segregate distinct economic
and functional specializations executed at diverse sites, if such
indeed took place in the Cochise Culture and could be isolated by
refined techniques of mathematical science and computer technology.
The three large sites on the montene hillsides were all located on
the south terrace of Dry Canyon, with site it5 approximately Li£0 meters
west of site I16 and site 88 about 100 meters east of site U6.
Those
three sites were very close to the mountains. The small sites in the
112
same zone were sites 89 and 39, both on the south side of Guindani
canyon wash and within 6h meters of each other; and site 70, on a high
promontory of Middle Canyon south of a tributary stream and bordering
the mountains.
In the riverine zone is laree site 77, on the south
rim of a nameless wash that can be traced to McGrew Spring area of the
mountainsj site 65, resting on the north terrace of Sacaton washj and
site 52, on a commanding eminence also overlooking the Sacaton but
from a south palisade east of site 65 and about two miles from the
San Pedro.
Of the three small riverine sites, the first is site 66,
about U00 meters east of site 65 and like it, situated on the north
side of Sacaton wash about three miles from its junction with the San
Pedro; site 58, two and one-half miles west of the floodplain on the
south escarpment of a nameless vrash that originates by Canary Well in
the montane district; and finally site 90, that surveyed California
wash from the north side at a position slightly less than three miles
from the river.
From the 12 sites a total of b7,37h lithics was gathered.
In
addition six sites also had 21 hearths on them, but since they were
features rather than artifacts, they will be ignored.
were divided into three groups:
The artifacts
(1) finished, consisting of 21 types
of chipped, retouched, or utilized tools (Table 7); (2) ground, com­
prising two types of ground stone tools, the metate and the mano
(Table 8); and (3) manufacturing artifacts made up of four classes of
stone utilized in tool manufacture. These are cores, hammerstones,
debitage flakes, and renewal flakes (Table 8).
Of those four, the
Table 7. Finished lithics by type and site
16
Lithics
39
Biface
3
8
1
Blades
a
31
23
3
U
Burin
Chopper
5
Chopping
6
Discoidal
U
52
53
2
3
1
1
Graver
2
11
6
11
37
6
Knife
1
a
7
Notch
8
15
Ovoid
2
Plane
1
6
3
12
25
ia
a
2
88
20
3
1
5
i
i
1
Convergent Scraper
Disc Scraper
End Scraper
Side Scraper
1
1
2
22
11
1
11
Total
17
3
2
6
7
1
1
1
1
1
7
1
1
7
3
2
7
2
1
1
1
58
Transverse Scraper
7
2
Chisel Wedee
2
2
1*31
12a
7h
90
1
90
9
1
9
7
5
2
3
29
Total
89
1
1
Projectile Point
w
1
1
Preform
77
1
Drill
Used Flake
Site Number
66
70
65
1
3
7
2
3
11
9
a
1
1
a
1
2
89
1
1
2
22
a
a
3
aa
3
1
1
9
1
1
9
1
8
3
10
32
6
27
2
6a
3
297
2
9
1
7
6
9
3
1
8
2
9
1
1
15
25
50
3
2
18
5
1
2
25
6
ai
69
27
25
157
11
1
10
16
915
U6
39
U5
Mano
h
10
Metate
2
2
6
12
3
31
7
12
3
52
58
Site Number
66
65
70
77
loo
loo
.Table 8. Ground and manufacturing lithics by type and site
3
2
89
90
Total
Ground Lithics
Total
2k
6
5
5U
U
2h
6
5
3
5
6
5
2
3
2
2
3
2
13
u
1
1
2
1
2
2
3
58
Manufacturing
Core
Hammerstone
2
7
82
26
Renewal Flake
'
15
6
Debitage Flake
5178 30851
3015
280
116
738
610
612
1085
1900
1279
593
U6257
5182 30909
3031
280
122
750
620
616
1101
1909
1281
600
1*61*01
Total
1
36
lis
hammerstone may be considered a tool since it is used as an implement
in the production of other tools.
A distinction was also made between
artifact and tool that governs the rest of the lithic discussion in
this paper.
An artifact may be defined as any lithic material manipu­
lated by human agency.
In that sense, all the lithics recovered from
the 12 sites including debitage flakes were artifacts since they were
subjected to alteration by man, if only in detachment from a core.
More restricted than artifact is that class defined as tools.
These
are artifacts that have been modified by further manipulation or usage
for the performance of certain activities or functions.
Thus, all
tools are artifacts, but not all artifacts are tools.
From the 12 sites U7,37)4 artifacts were retrieved.
Of these,
915 were finished tools, $8 ground tools, and ij6,)401 manufacturing
artifacts (Table $).
In making a 33 percent reduction for calculation
purposes, these became 573 finished tools, 32 ground tools, and 2h,c>B0
manufacturing artifacts, all adding up to 25,185 artifacts.
In the
eight sites that had been one-third stripped, the various artifact
densities (finished, ground, manufacturing, and total lithic) were
determined by dividing the appropriate quantity of lithics or artifacts
by the actual number of grid squares stripped, which equalled one-third
of the entire area of the site (Tables 9 and 10).
For sites completely
stripped, both the number of grid squares and the quantity of artifacts
upon them were diminished to one-third before any calculations were
attempted.
In that way, the 12 sites were brought into equivalence
in terms of area stripped and of artifacts recovered.
116
Table 9. Lithic densities of sites in Table 6.
Sites byLocation
and Size
Density of Lithics to Site Area
Finished
Ground
Manufacturing
Total
Montane
large
U5
.395
U6
.b26
88
.309
.011
.009
28.33
28.7U
10.U2
10.8U
8.56
8.88
9.09
9.28
U0.17
U0.79
7.33
7.55
l.h5
3.U7
1.51
3.62
l.'iU
1.51
small
89
.191
39
.57U
70
,2lU
.0U7
Riverine
large
77
65
.05U
.116
.OOli
.028
52
.077
small
66
.266
.027
3.30
3.59
58
.077
.07U
.38
.53
90
.063
2.38
2.UU
117
Table 10,
Site
Groupings
Average lithic densities for groups of sites in Table 6.
Finished
Montane
Ground
Manufacturing
Total
.022
large
.377
15.77
16.15
small
.326
18.86
19.21
Riverine
.020
large
.082
2.12
2.21
small
.135
2.02
2.19
118
Of the 12 sites, site h$ was the largest, both in geographical
size and in quantity of artifacts.
amount of lithics.
Conversely, site 58 had the least
Spatially, the smallest site was 70, while site
was almost four and one-half times larger.
The 21 finished tool tyoes
(22 if one includes the manufacturing artifact hammerstone) were de­
fined on the basis of the taxonomy embodied in the report on Ventana
Cave (Haury 19^0: 170-329) where tools and artifacts of the Cochise
Culture were found that resembled closely those collected from the 12
San Pedro valley sites. To elucidate the distinction among some arti­
fact types, a chopper differs from a chopping tool only in the former
having unidirectional and the latter bidirectional flaking. The same
distinction obtains between a disc scraper and a discoidalj flaking
on a disc scraper is unifacial, on a discoidal, bifacial.
a graver is flaked unifacially and a drill bifacially.
Similarly,
It would appear
that Cochise craftsmen in the San Pedro valley availed themselves of
seven kinds of material in the manufacture of stone tools. They were:
chert, basalt, limestone, granite, auartzite, chalcedony, and agate,
in that order of preference, with chert and basalt together accounting
for 87 percent of all lithic material (Table 11).
Besides the customary parameters of length, width, and thick­
ness, the artifacts were subjected to a series of metrical descriptions
through the use of polar coordinate graphs sectioned into four quad­
rants, two of 60° each and two of 120° each.
On a 360° compass, the
upper or Proximal quadrant ranged from 330° to 30°; the next or Right
Lateral quadrant scanned a 120° arc from 30° to l!?0o; the third or
119
Table 11.
Percentage of material per site.
Quartzite
Chal­
cedony
1*6.5
li.O
.u
37.9
38.6
10.0
.7
88
27.5
65.0
89
20.7
75.9
39
21.U
61.9
6.0
70
9.1
72.7
U.5
77
8.3
85.0
1.7
65
hi.9
2.3
52
39.5
20.0
80.0
66
20.0
66.2
58
25.5
23.6
90
l».3
91.3
Total
3U.5
52.6
Site
Basalt
U5
1|6.1
U6
Chert
Agate
.7
Lime­
stone
Granite
Total
2.6
•U
100.0
5.0
8.3
U.5
U.5
100.0
12.1
2.5
100.0
3.U
100.0
2.U
100.0
100.0
U.5
2.3
5.0
100.0
1U.0
100.0
100.0
3.1
3.8
.5
.2
3.1
7.7
100.0
7.3
U3.6
100.0
U.3
100.0
U.l
100.0
U.U
120
Distal quadrant measured 60° from 15>0° to 210°; the fourth quadrant,
the Left Lateral, covered a 120° arc from 210° to 330°.
On such a
polar graph, two variables were calculated for each of the four quad­
rants: (l) the outline or shape of the working edge of a tool —
concave, straight, or convex ~ with respect to each quadrant; and,
(2) the amount of the working edge expressed in 10° segments of arc
for each of the four ouadrants that had been flaked for usage (Fig.10).
A second polar coordinate had angles calibrated every 5° be­
tween 0° and 90° to measure the angle of utilization on the working
edge of a tool in whatever quadrant that working edge appeared.
Obviously, the angle of the working edge is critical in appraising
the functional activities in which a tool could have been employed
(Fig. 11).
Since the various measurements elicited from the data were
destined for computer processing, the format or code for describing
variables was adjusted to conform to the exigencies of the IBM card
(Table 12).
To turn now to a more detailed description of each site.
already indicated, the largest of all was site
As
(Ariz. EE:3:6), both
in geographical extent and in lithic content, even after a reduction
to 10,U£l artifacts.
Perched close to the mountains on the south side
of Dry Canyon wash at an elevation of h.,77% feet on the edee of a
ravine over 60 feet deep, site JiS encompassed 1,091 square meters,
from which all lithic remains were extracted, amounting to b31 finished
tools, 12 ground tools and 30,909 artifacts resulting from manufactur­
ing.
Lithic density measured 28.7h artifacts per square meter, the
121
PROXIMAL
330
340
350
40
320
,60
300
290
280
cr
Ui
__i
270
100
110
250
120
240
130
230
140
200
160
190
210
180
170
150
DISTAL
Figure 10. Edge outline and edge arc...Hypothetical side scraper
with convox sides in quadrants 2 and h, and effective
scraping area between 20° and 170°, and between 20£°
and
of arc.
K
122
J
Figure 11,
Edi^e an?:le calibration. -Hyoothetical t>lane with
working edpe an^le of 7£°.
Table 12.
No. of
Cols.
Description
2
2
Site Number
3 -6
h
Square Number
7 - 10
h
Specimen Number
1
Material - Basalt
Chert
Quartzite
ChalcedonyAgate
Limestone
Granite
Col. No.
1
-
11
IBM Card Code
Col. No.
6k
No. of
Cols.
Description
1
Tool Shape •
Round, Oval,
Elongate,
Rectangular,
Triangular,
Amorphous
65
Projectile Blade Edge
(1) Strongly convex
(2) Moderately convex
(3) Straight
66
Projectile Base Edge
(1) Slightly concave
(2) Straight
(3) Slightly convex
CU) Strongly convex
12
1
Class - Core, Flake,
Blade
13
1
Modification Unifacial
Bifacial
67
Condition -Whole
Broken
Proj. Haft Modification
(0) Absent
(1) Present
68
Projectile Side Notches
(0) Absent
(1) Present
69
Projectile Corner Notch
(0) Absent
(1) Present
70
Projectile Stem
(0) Absent
(2) Straight
(1) Expending (3) Constricted
Projectile Serrated
(0) Absent
(1) Present
Hi
1
15-16
2
Artifact types 26 types + hearth
17-18
2
Composite types as above
19-21
3
Length in mm.
22 - 2U
3
Width in mm.
25 - 27
3
Thickness in mm.
71
Table 12.
(l) Concave
(2) Straight
(3) Convex
IBM Card Code—Continued
Proximal
Quadrants
Right Lateral
Distal
Left Lateral
33 - 3
3 - 15
15 - 21
21 - 33
28
37
U6
55
Work Edge in 10° arcs - Begin
29 - 30
38 - 39
hi - U8
56 - 57
Work Edge in 10° arcs - End
31 - 32
ho - hi
h9 - 50
58 - 59
Work Edge Angle
33 - 3U
b2 - U3
51-52
60 - 61
35
UU
53
62
36
1x5
5U
63
Work Edge Outline
0° to 90°
Work Edge Retouch
Edge Retouch
(l) Normal
(2) Denticulate
(0) Absent
(1) Present
125
second highest of the 12 sites.
Groves of yucca in almost
impene­
trable clusters blanketed much of the site making its clearance a
memorable experience.
Despite its extraordinary size, unusual for a
Cochise site, only two metates and ten manos, with five hearths, were
encountered.
The area where site U5 reposed is replete with Cochise
sites heavily populated with lithic artifacts.
One stood £0 meters
west of site h$, and two others, sites U6 and 88, next to be con­
sidered, were downstream on the same south precipice of Dry Canyon
h%0 and
meters respectively.
points were found on site
numerous others.
Twenty-two San Pedro side-notched
with two Chiricahua projectiles and
In fact, projectile points constituted over b3 per­
cent of the finished artifact inventory of this site.
Site U6 (Ariz. EE:3 j 7), at a slightly lower elevation of H ,760
feet, is the second large site in the mountain district.
meters east of site
Located b$0
it had a lithic density of 10.8U, and the
second highest finished tool concentration of the 12.
It ranked
second also in spatial dimensions, totaling 872 square meters of which
291 were divested of 12U finished tools and 3,031 manufacturing arti­
facts.
Despite its magnitude, no eround tools and no hearths could
be seen at that site.
Site 88 (Ariz. EE:3 j 8) was the third large montane site on the
southern rim of Dry Canyon.
It stood almost 100 meters east of site
1*6 and slightly over one mile west of Highway 90, at an elevation of
li,7£0 feet.
Of its 668 square meters, 223 furnished 69 finished
tools, two ground tools, and 1,909 manufacturing artifacts.
Its
126
lithic density was 8.8 artifacts per square meter.
On the site were
two hearths and 32 projectile points which accounted for lj.6 percent
of the finished tool category, the highest proportion of projectile
points on any site.
Among the three small sites in a foothill or montane environ­
ment, are sites 89 (Ariz. EE:3f£) and 39 (Ariz. EE:3:k).
Located only
6U meters apart from each other with site 89 to the west of 39, they
are situated on a hillside L,760 feet high and about 30 meters south
of Guindani wash, about one mile west of Highway 90 and one hundred
meters north of the Lone Star Mine dirt road that parallels Middle
Canyon.
East o^ sites 89 and 39 and extending intermittently for a
mile, is a series of seven sites, all presumably Cochise (inferred
from the absence of ceramics and the presence of basin metates) and
all interspersed between the south side of Guindani wash and the
paralleling mine dirt road.
Those sites cluster into three groups
with sites 3h and 35 within 100 meters of each otherj sites 36, 37*
and 38 in a linear series about 200 meters long; and sites IjO and Ul
about 1$ meters apart just south of the mine road. The first and
third groups are in the eastern end of Middle Canyon close to Highway
90 and the second group is clustered farther inland near site 39.
Unlike other washes emanating from the mountains, Middle
Canyon Guindani wash is only about two meters deep in the site area
having been spared the usual erosional gouging of the bajada along
the course of the stream bed.
During field work site 89 was origi­
nally considered a westerly extension of site 39 and combined with it.
127
Both parts totaled 8lU square meters, site 39 measuring 3U8 grid
squares and its assumed westerly extension amounting to U66 grid
squares.
From a table of random numbers 270 grid squares were chosen
for stripping, 129 from site 39 and ll|l from its nearby extension
(now site 89).
Uneasiness at the quantity and type of artifacts re­
covered from the westerly extension compared to that extracted from
site 39, verified by a subsequent analysis of the material, indicated
a distinction in composition, suggesting their separation. Therefore
the westerly extension of site 39 was designated site 89.
Since both
locales had already been stripped, no further work was resumed on
either.
In the original operation the number of prrid souares stripped
on site 39 represented 37 percent of the total of that site while the
artifacts from site 89 formed 30 percent.
Since 30 percent from site
89 represented an adequate sample of the whole site no additional
stripping was contemplated.
Site 89 differed from site 39 not only
quantitatively but also in the absence of metates, manos, and hearths.
Of the U66 square meters on site 89, ll|l grid squares yielded 27
finished tools, and 1,281 manufacturing artifacts, producing a lithic
density of 9.28 artifacts per square meter.
an "L" shaped contour.
Site 39 to the east, had
On its northeast extremity were four hearths.
This site had the largest lithic density of any encounteredj it
amounted to li0.79.
Present on the site were four manos and two
metates.
Site 70 (Ariz. EE:3:9), the last small site in a montane en­
vironment, was spatially the smallest of the 12, with the least number
128
of lithics for a hillside site.
Surmounted, on a high bluff poised
above a bend in Middle Canyon wash, site 70 afforded a panoramic view
of the San Pedro valley to the east from an elevation of li,900 feet,
the highest altitude of any site.
Of the 250 scmare meters on the
site, 18 finished tools and 616 manufacturing artifacts were retrieved
from 8ij grid squares, giving a lithic density of 7.55, the lowest of
the montane sites.
No manos, metates, or hearths could be located.
Of the six sites nearer the river, the first to be reported
upon is site 77 (Ariz. EE:3:13)»
This large site consists of two
parts 75 meters distant and both at an elevation of 3,81*0 feet. The
site rests on a long knoll pointed toward the San Pedro river two
miles to the east, on which four sites in succession stretch in un­
dulating concentrations of artifacts for half a mile.
The surface
consists of a deep red soil interspersed by occasional outcrops of
limestone.
The southern segment of site 77 has no hearths but four
do appear in the northern serment.
Although all of its 757 srid
squares were stripped, only 1,1U5 artifacts were collected.
Of those,
111 were finished tools, three ground implements, and 1,101 manufac­
turing artifacts, producing a lithic density ratio of 1.51.
Ensconced on the north bank of the Sacaton nearly three miles
from the San Pedro and at an altitude of 3,960 feet was another large
riverine site, 65 (Ariz. EE:3:11).
Like site 77, it had two parts,
a north and a south segment 20 meters apart.
On the site were two
hearths localized in the north segment, and six manos equally dis­
tributed in each segment.
Of the 635 square meters on the site, 216
129
were stripped of their 781 artifacts, consisting of 25 finished imple­
ments, six ground tools, and 750 manufacturing artifacts.
The lithic
density ratio of 3.62 scored highest for a riverine site.
The third large site is 52 (Ariz. EE:b:10), prominently located
on a plateau 3,825 feet altitude affording an unobstructed view of the
terrain from the south rim of Sacaton wash, and less than two miles
from the San Pedro.
From 195 Rrid squares constituting one third of
the 58U square meter site, 15 finished artifacts and 280 manufacturing
artifacts were collected, producing a lithic density of 1.51, exactly
like that on site 77.
On site 52 appeared the largest disc scraper
seen at any Cochise site within the geographical limits of the survey
in the San Pedro valley.
It measured 130 mm. in diameter.
Less than half a mile east of site 65 on the same northern
side of the Sacaton and at the same elevation of 3,960 feet stood site
66 (Ariz. EE:3:12).
It is the first of the three small riverine sites.
It was adjacent to a natural gas pipeline dirt road that cut a tangent
on the eastern perimeter of the site.
Of the 562 grid squares on the
site, one third or 180 yielded 675 artifacts made up of 50 finished
tools, five ground tools, and 620 manufacturing artifacts.
The lithic
density ratio at site 66 registered 3.59, closely resembling that
recorded at site 66.
Site 58 (Ariz. EE:3il0) is a provocative and challenging site
in view of the unusual frequency and combination of its tools.
Situ­
ated on the south side of an elevated terrace 3,920 feet high and
mantled with a deep red soil perforated with outcrops of limestone
130
like site 77, the site overlooks a nameless wash that descends from the
mountains by Canary Well to debouch into the San Pedro.
Although a
small site territorially, it consisted of two parts with the smaller
segment of Ul square meters east of the larger one of 282, that to­
gether totaled 323 grid souares, all completely stripped.
contained 171 artifacts:
25 finished, 2h ground, and 122 manufacturing.
The ground tools were small manos or handstones.
metates were in evidence.
The site
No hearths or
The high freauency of handstones in a pro­
venience incompatible with food processing provides a clue to the
function of this site.
The lithic density at site 58 was the lowest
of all.
The last site investigated iB site 90 (Ariz. EE:3:lU), spread
out on a bluff north of California wash and immediately west of an
abandoned railway embankment three miles from the San Pedro river.
Site elevation was 3,960 feet. From its 252 square meters 616 arti­
facts were gathered, 16 finished tools and 600 manufacturing artifacts.
No hearths nor manos were at the site.
While only two square meters
larger than site 70 by the mountains, it was much more impoverished
in lithic quantity and density which averaged 2.1ih per souare meter,
compared to 7.55 at site 70. The smallness of the site in sDatial
dimensions and lithic residue argues in favor of a brief occupation.
From a review of the 12 sites and from some calculations made,
the following inferences may be proposed:
1. There was more manufacturing activity and more finished prod­
ucts
at montane sites than at riverine. That inference seems to be
131
confirmed both in absolute quantities (Tables 5 and 6) and in lithic
densities (Tables 9 and 10).
This implies more lithic manipulation in
mountain areas than in river locations.
2.
Although mountain sites manifest more finished artifacts per
square meter (see finished densities in Table 9) than river sites, they
have fewer finished tools per total number of artifacts (see Table 13,
columns Finished and Manufacturing) than river sites.
In other words,
mountain sites have more finished tools in terms of site size but a
higher percentage of artifacts have been converted into finished tools
in river sites than in mountain sites.
Although site 58 is a maverick
and skews the total, the postulate just enunciated still stands, even
were site
$8
to be excluded from the calculation. To test the validity
of a discrepancy between lithic densities at sites in mountain versus
river zones, a Chi Square test was undertaken to prove mathematically
that both zones differed (Table 1U). They did differ between the .01
and .02 levels of significance.
3.
The greater quantity of artifacts at mountain sites leads one
to suspect that those sites experienced a higher depree of intensity
of occupation — whether in si?,e of social group, or repetitiveness of
occupation, or duration of occupation — than river sites.
U.
While mountain sites had more manufacturing artifacts in raw
count and at the same time a higher percentage of manufacturing arti­
facts over finished tools (see Table 13) the discrepancy cannot be
attributed to a poverty of suitable material in the riverine zone.
In fact, raw material was as accessible to river sites as to mountain.
132
Table 13. Percentage distribution of lithics in Table 6.
Sites by
Location
and Size
Percentage of Classes of Lithics
Finished
Ground
Manufacturing
By Site Average
By Site Average
By Site Average
Montane
large
U5
1.37
U6
88
3.93
3.U8
39
70
.Olt
98.58
96.07
.10
96.1*7
2.10
small
89
97.02
.08
2.93
97.86
2.06
97.9)4
98.1x8
.11
1.U1
2.8h
97.16
Riverine
large
95.67
.59
3.95
77
3.58
.26
96.07
65
3.20
5.08
.77
96.03
52
small
66
9k.92
8.19
87.11
7.U1
.7U
91.85
58
1U.03
ll».0U
71.93
90
2.UU
97.56
133
Table lit.
Sites by
Location
and Size
Chi-square or total lithic density in Table 7.
Observed
Lithic Density
Expected
tO-E)2
E
Montane
large
hS
28.7U
26.90
.12#
U6
10.8U
12.86
.3173
88
8.88
9.2U
.OliiO
89
9.28
ll.li5
.hll3
39
L0.79
36.75
.ULUl
70
7.5?
8.88
.1992
small
Total Montane
1.5118
Riverine
large
77
1.51
3.35
1.011
65
3.62
1.60
2.550
52
1.51
1.15
small
66
3.59
1,1*2
3.316
58
.53
U.57
3.571
90
2.UU
1.11
1.59U
.1127
Total Riverine
12.15U7
Total X2
13.6665*
*Significant between .01 and .02 levels with 5 degrees of freedom.
13U
The only quarry site discovered in the survey, site 87 not included in
this report, was located on the north side of California wash closer
to the river zone than to the mountain,
5. With respect to ground tools, the smallness of the sample makes
any generalization extremely hazardous.
For security's sake, probably
no more should be said about them than about hearths, which is merely
to record their presence.
Nevertheless in examining trends, from the
point of view of zonal distribution, 37.5 percent of all ground tools
occur in mountain sites and the remaining 62.5 percent occupy river
sites.
But attain the handstones of site 58 skew the distribution.
By
excluding them, ground stone tools become equally distributed in each
zone in terms of quantity, and in terms of ground stone density, the
mountain zone averages out to .022 while the river zone approximates
it with a measurement of .020 (Table 10).
Unlike finished tools that
are more numerous per square meter in mountain sites than in river,
the ground tools average about the same per square meter in mountain
and river zones.
But there exists considerable interzonal discrepancy
in ground tools in relation to total number of artifacts.
Mountain
sites with many more artifacts have the same number of ground tools
as river sites with far fewer artifacts.
The ground tool/total arti­
fact ratio for mountain sites is .08 compared to river sites with a
ratio of .59 which is seven times greater (Table 13).
has been exempted from this statistic.
Again site 58
This reflects for ground tools
the same observation remarked upon in part 2 for finished tools.
In
both cases there were more finished and ground tools on river sites
13f>
relative to the total artifact inventory of those sites than in moun­
tain sites.
6.
In dividing the lithics into tool and flake categories, with
the former including finished and ground tools as well as hammerstones,
and the latter including debitage flakes, renewal flakes, and cores,
the conclusions reported in paragraphs 2 and $ for finished and ground
tools seem to be confirmed.
The mountain sites exhibit a higher ratio
of flakes per tool than river sites (Table l£) demonstrating the
accumulation of more flake debris as a consequence of manufacturing
in mountain sites than in riverine.
To test the validity of this dis­
tinction between the two zones on the basis of flake-tool ratios, a
Chi-square was calculated revealing a difference well beyond the .001
level of significance (Table 16).
Having processed the data metrically according to pertinent
dimensions, they were submitted to a computer analysis in which certain
tabulations were first made and then more complex programs undertaken.
By means of the BC Try Cluster Analysis certain factors consisting of
clusters of tool categories were isolated and then rotated against
each site to obtain the best statistical fit. The results of those
endeavors are discussed in the next chapter.
136
Table 15. Flake-tool ratios.
Site No.
Tools* Flakes-**
Total
Lithics
Flake-Tool
By Site Average
Flake-Total lithic
By Site Average
Montane
large
39.2U
10U51
67.76
.9855
127
3155
23.81*
.9597
73
1907
1980
26.12
.9631
28
1280
1308
U5.71
.9786
39
80
5182
5262
6U.78
.98U8
70
18
616
63b
3U.22
.9716
small
89
152
96.9k
10299
3028
U5
U6
88
U8.2U
97.83
Riverine
large
21.28
95.U6
77
15
367
382
2U.U7
.9607
65
36
7U5
781
20.69
.9539
52
15
280
295
18.67
.9ii92
small
17.80
87.02
618
675
10.8U
.9156
58
57
16
111
57
2.56
.7193
90
5
200
205
>40.00
.9756
622
2U563
25185
66
Total
*Tools - finished, ground, and hammerstone.
*#Flakes - debitage flakes, renewal flakes, cores.
137
Table 16. Chi-square of flake-tool ratio.
Sites by
Location
and Size
Flake-Tool Ratios
Observed
Expected
(0-E)*
E
Montane
large
U5
67.76
1*6
23.8h
63.7?
30.78
1.56U8
88
26.12
30.96
.7566
89
U5.71
39.09
1.1211
39
6U.78
b6.55
7.1393
70
3U.22
51.30
5.6867
.2522
small
Total Montane
16.5207
Riverine
large
77
2U.U7
28.1*8
.56li6
65
20.69
13.75
3.5028
52
18.67
13.83
1.6938
66
10.8U
17.U6
2.5100
58
2.^6
20.79
15.9852
90
U0.00
22.92
12.7280
small
Total Riverine
36.98UU
Total X2
53.5051*
*Significant beyond .001 level with 5 degrees of freedom.
CHAPTER $
LITHIC ANALYSIS AND STATISTICAL ASSESSMENT
From the preceding chapter it is readily apparent that a
multivariate analysis of the lithic material recovered from the 12
Cochise sites enumerated in this report would be foreboding in the
absence of facilities afforded by a computer.
The high speed calcu­
lations of data submitted to a computer has made possible the manipu­
lation and calculation of quantities of data through a series of
programs that would otherwise have been quite impossible.
A certain
amount of trial and error is unavoidable before suitable approaches
can be devised for eliciting from the data the information desired.
As analysis proceeds, refinements are introduced involving, in this
instance, a division of the 12 sites into 28 smaller units called subsites, and in the addition or deletion of variables to the factors
generated by computer.
Here archaeological judgment is invoked in the
decision to discard variables that appear inappropriate or to insert
into factors variables that suggest complementarity.
For analysis by the computer, data from the 12 sites had to
be reworked. First of all, the sites were renumbered from one to 12,
by the simple expedient of labeling site 39 as 1, site
so on to site 90 which became site 12.
as 2, and
Then the grid squares were re­
numbered from those given in the field to a Cartesian coordinate
138
139
system with the horizontal x-axis numbered from 1 to n on the abscissa,
and the vertical y-axis similarly numbered on the ordinate.
The grid
squares of the sites were redesignated to correspond to the coordinates
defined by the Cartesian system.
Thirdly, the finished tools, ground
tools, and manufacturing artifacts of cores and hammerstones, and even
hearths which obviously are not artifacts, were all classified as
variables with the 12 sites (and subsequently the 28 subsites) classi­
fied as objects.
Two stapes of analysis were undertaken:
a "V"
analysis, in which variables including lithics and hearths were com­
bined into clusters or factors tentatively representing specific func­
tional activities; and an "0" analysis, in which the factors derived
from the "V" analysis were rotated against the objects to select and
isolate those sites or subsites having the highest concordance, ex­
pressed in the form of a factor score. In all those operations the
CDC 61*00 computer and accessory facilities at The University of Arizona
Computer Center were employed.
Before describing the sequence of operations followed in the
computer analysis, it would seem appropriate to elucidate in general
terms the system of cluster analysis utilized in this study.
Of the
many forms of cluster and factor analyses currently available, the one
adopted here was the BC TRY (1970) Cluster Analysis system developed
by R. C. Tryon and D. E. Bailey (Tryon and Bailey 1970).
With the BC
TRY, as with other systems, the purpose of cluster analysis is to
group into clusters those variables that are highly correlated, with
a low correlation between clusters.
Those clusters may then be
lilO
compared with the objects from which the variables were derived in
order to classify the objects.
operations:
Cluster analysis consists of two
the clustering; of variables (called "V" analysis) and,
on the basis of results obtained from that analysis, a clustering of
objects (called "0" analysis).
The artifacts recovered from the 12
Cochise sites were the variables and the sites were the objects.
For valid conclusions to be drawn from cluster analysis, cer­
tain prerequisites should be met.
The number o** objects enlisted for
study should be twice the number of variables.
In addition, the vari­
ables must relate or pertain to the objects being clustered, and
ideally, they should be amenable to measurement.
Variables that have
met those requirements may then be utilized in the clusters by "V"
analysis.
In "V" analysis a pivot variable, one as general and as inde­
pendent as possible, is selected from the correlation matrix of
variables.
To that pivot variable is added another variable which is
most collinear to it. Each succeeding variable is selected on the
basis of highest collinearity with the variable immediately preceding
it.
The addition of variables to a cluster begun by the pivot variable
is fixed by setting minimal limits of collinearity beyond which no
further variables will be added to the cluster. Thereupon a new pivot
variable is chosen from the residual correlation matrix, after the
influence of the first cluster has been accounted for and a set of new
correlations generated.
The isolation of a second pivot variable is
followed by a selection of its own set of associative variables and a
1U1
new cluster is formed.
After several clusters have been compounded and
the residual correlation matrix becomes so exhausted that no further
clusters can be extracted from it, the process of "V" analysis termi­
nates.
The operation of combining a group of related variables from
a correlation matrix into clusters or dimensions is known as factor
analysis and the clusters elicited are called factors.
In collinearity,
each variable that groups with others to form a factor may be en­
visioned as a point or vector within the limits of space circumscribed
by the numerical value assigned to the factor.
The correlation of
each variable with the cluster or factor to ;*hich it belones is known
as oblique factor coefficient.
It expresses mathematically the tight­
ness of the fit between a cluster and its member variable.
Communality
measured between 0.00 and 1.00 denotes the amount of variance accounted
for in each variable in a cluster.
Each cluster is partitioned off in space from others and its
constituent variables are represented as points or vectors within the
geographical limits defined by the cluster. Since each variable, even
within the same cluster, usually differs from others, the spatial
distance separating them is expressed as Euclidean distance.
Vectors
of collinearity clusters form a tight bundle of vectors with the ideal
cluster being a set of vectors lying precisely on a single line and
varying only in length.
In the "0" analysis the purpose is to seek out grouos of
objects close to one another, that is, in the same sector or neighbor­
hood of multivariate space determined by the cluster or factor scores.
1142
A factor score may be conceived as the sum of the standard scores of
an object relative to the score of variables within a cluster defining
that object.
Objects are grouped into sectors or neighborhoods
according to the factor scores they attain when rotated against
clusters of variables.
When two or more objects exhibit similar
factor scores, they are singled out as O-types or Core-types.
An
unattached or lone object is assimilated to the Core type whose factor
score it most resembles.
If the resemblance is remote, it is still
assimilated but classified as Reject.
Through successive iterations,
usually four in the BC TRY (1970) system, involving recalculation of
means and factor scores, Core types are refined.
The aggregation of
objects into Core or O-types through repeated iterations is called
Hierarchical Condensation.
It enables one to reduce the number of
Core or O-types into a few, by combining those with close means into
Core types that, as they diminish in number, become more general in
attributes, by admitting more diverse objects into the Core type.
Theoretically the process of Hierarchical Condensation or recombina­
tion could continue until all the objects converge into one pyramidal
or geneological structure, capable of being represented as a dendogram.
In practice, however, a cut-off point is established after a few con­
densations.
Before describing the calculations made on the data by the BC
TRY (1970) system in various computer runs and the information that
accumulated from those operations, it would be advisable to discuss
the division of the 12 sites into subsites. That division took place
U»3
when it was felt that greater refinement of results could be achieved
and areas of specific functional activity delineated on sites.
In
actual fact, neither aim was fully realized since the sites were com­
paratively homogeneous within themselves although they did manifest
some distinction among themselves.
Tito variables influenced the decision to reduce a site into
component subsites:
its implements.
the geographical size of a site and the number of
Where those two variables coincided so that a site,
when divided by a factor of 2 or 3 (8 in the case of site )\$) would
still retain in the partitioned units an adecmate quantity of imple­
ments to form meaningful clusters, that site was divided.
The sites
were arbitrarily partitioned into units of equal size, preferably
square in outline, each having approximately the same number of sauare
meters.
The contour of a site determined the axis of division; for
example, site 88 was elongated on an east-west axis and divided accord­
ingly into equal geographical units (subsites) west, center, and east.
Three sites — £8, 65 and 77 — were already segregated into two
discrete spatial units, north and south, and their subsites merely
followed those natural boundaries.
Four sites were left undisturbed
due to either smallness, as in the case of sites 70 and 90, or to
paucity of implements, as on sites 52 and 89.
Five sites were divided into two units, north and south.
were sites 39, 58, 65, 66, and 77.
geographical units:
Those
Two sites were split into three
site L6 into northwest, northeast, and south
segments; and site 88 into west, center, and east portions along an
1UU
east-west axis.
subsites:
The large montane site li5 was sectioned into eight
three in the northern part in an east-west orientation;
three in the center, also running east-west; and two in the southern
part of the site in east-west relation.
Segments in the north were:
northwest, north center, and northeast; in the center:
west center,
central center, and east center; while in the southern part of the
site the last two partitions were called southwest and southeast.
The first operations with the data deck of IBM cards consisted
in a series of tabulations categorizing variations encountered in the
artifacts.
Quantities and percentages of various tool types were
listed with a summation of material used in their manufacture and the
class of tools — core, flake, or blade — to which they belonged.
Where feasible, the contours or work edpe outline of each tool with
respect to the four quadrants on the polar coordinate graph was re­
corded along with the extent of the working edge measured in 10° units
of arc within each quadrant.
The basic tabulations also furnished a
breakdown on the working edge angle plotted in 5° increments from 20°
to 90° for each flaked tool with their modification (unifacial or
bifacial) and condition (whole or broken).
The results obtained from
that series of preliminary tabulations provided useful data for future
analyses.
An analysis of scrapers and projectile points in terms of
variations peculiar to each type was recorded at that time also.
Having completed the basic cross-tabulations, some "V" analyses
x^ere attempted.
In those analyses the variables were transposed from
raw counts into percentapes.
Included in the list of variables
submitted, to "V" and "0" analyses were the 21 finished tool types; the
two ground tool types, metate and mano; and from the manufacturing
class came hammerstones, totaling 2h variables.
In one instance where
variables were deliberately selected, the manufacturing artifact, core,
was introduced.
That was in Program 16.
In another instance, in
Program 20, where two clusters were added to four already generated
by the computer in a "V" analysis, the feature hearth was included as
a variable in one of the clusters.
Apart from those two exceptions,
the only artifacts used in analyses were the 2h mentioned above.
In
the beginning percentages were determined with reference to the same
tool type occurring across the 12 sites.
On that basis, two "V"
analyses were run, one correlating 2 h variables with 12 sites (Program
7) and the other correlating 12 variables with the same number of
sites (Program 9).
The second analysis with 12 variables attempted to
reduce spurious correlations that might result from the inclusion of
variables of small frequency.
Consequently, variables in ouantities
fewer than 15 were eliminated in the second "V" analysis (cf. Table 17).
It is interesting to observe that the analysis with 2li variables in
Program 7 produced three clusters while that with 12 variables in Pro­
gram 9 produced only two.
In both cases, variables in the second
cluster were identical and their factor scores not too disparate.
Of
the three variables in the first cluster of Program 9, one appears in
the first cluster of Program 7 and another in the third.
Apart from
those similarities clusters from the two analyses differed.
The validity of results obtained in Programs 7 and 9, based
upon percentages of the same artifacts across all sites, was questioned
1U6
Table 17. Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs 7 and 9.
Program and
Cluster
Variable
Oblique Factor
Coefficient
Communality
Program 7*
1
2
3
Planes
.9876
Projectile Points
.987U
.9877
.98U7
Discoidal
.9772
.9623
Chopping
.969?
.9klh
Gravers
.982U
.9837
Blades
.9821
.9690
Preforms
Knives
.9385
.7160
.8967
.6881
Metate
.976?
.9912
Drill
Burin
.9765
.9591
.9912
.9392
Side Scraper
.8785
.9998
Projectile Points
Side Scraper
.9829
.9290
.9989
.912U
Hammerstone
.920U
.81472
Blades
Gravers
.99W*
.9705
.9316
.9889
.9602
Program 9**
1
2
Preforms
Knives
*2li variables, 12 sites
**12 variables, 12 sites
.719h
.9057
.5951
12*7
and a new approach instituted.
In order to reflect more accurately
the lithic composition of each site in terms of its constituent vari­
ables, percentages of artifacts (variables) were now calculated within
a site in relation to one another rather than across sites. Thus the
percentage of any particular artifact was assessed relative to other
artifacts from the same site rather than the same type across all
sites.
Again, but with percentages for variables determined from
within a site instead of across sites, Programs 10 and 12 with 2h and
12 variables respectively at the 12 sites were run (Table 18).
As in
the former "V" analysis, Program 10 with 2k variables produced one
cluster more that Program 12 with half that number of variables, and
in addition, manifested a higher oblique factor coefficient among
variables in the clusters.
In this instance, Program 10 with 2b
variables generated four clusters to the three formulated in Program
12 consisting of 12 variables. Tightness of fit was more pronounced
in the first three clusters of Program 10 than in the three elicited
from the 12 variables of Program 12.
Correspondence between them is
confined to cluster three of Program 10, where blades, pravers, and
preforms juxtapose with the first and third clusters of Program 12.
Significantly, the second clusters of Programs 7 and 9 also reveal
high covariance among blades, pravers, and preforms.
Finally, the
three clusters of Program 12 contain only two variables in each with
a duplicate of blades in the first and third clusters.
Using the same 12 variables of Programs 9 and 12, another "V"
analysis was projected against 28 subsites (Program lh, Table 19).
1U8
Table 18. Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs 10 and 12.
Program and
Cluster
Variable
Oblique Factor
Coefficient
Communality
Program 10*
1.0008
Discoidal
.9989
.9616
Planes
Chopper
.9370
.8367
.93m
.7li78
Drill
Metate
Burin
.91*18
.9U12
.81479
.9615
.9608
.8212
Preforms
.9510
.9518
Disc Scraper
.908U
.8500
Blade
.7156
.5889
Gravers
.67liU
.672b
Chopping
.8212
.7261
Knives
Wedge
.71IU
.6900
.6362
Blade
.8079
.7578
Graver
.7129
.5U52
2
Notch
End Scraper
.8707
.8203
.7999
.711*7
3
Blade
.8557
.7672
.7578
.611*1
1
2
3
k
End Scraper
.9337
.63U2
Program 12**
1
Preform
*2h variables, 12 sites
**12 variables, 12 sites
Iii9
Table 19. Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs lit and 17.
Program and
Cluster
Variable
Oblique Factor
Coefficient
Communality
Program ll**
Mano
Biface
.61*2
.1*1*62
.5327
.6221*
2
Side Scraper
Notch
.71*1*7
.671*8
.6001*
.5012
3
Graver
.6767
.1*808
Blade
.6201*
.1*077
Preform
.1*300
.3501*
End Scraper
.936U
.8818
.9781
1
Program 17"**
1
Plane
Discoidal
2
3
k
.81*77
.8552
.7816
Chopper
.8232
.831*1
Burin
Metate
.9322
.9098
1.1018
Drill
.9091
.8807
Disc Scraper
.8869
Preform
.91*12
.8009
Blades
.7857
.71*33
.6536
Graver
.71*01
.6820
Side Scraper
.9033
Knives
.7021
.953U
.6121
*12 variables, 28 sites
variables, 12 sites
.8817
ISO
Areas of specific functional activity within sites would presumably be
reflected in the composition of the clusters elicited in the "V" analy­
sis.
Such, however, was not clearly the case.
Three clusters did
emerge from the analysis but their variables, being less tightly corre­
lated than desired, furnished less than optimum results.
Notwith­
standing the somewhat desultory character of that analysis, the re­
currence in the third cluster of gravers, blades and preforms suggested
more than mere coincidence.
correlation.
It implied a persistent, meaningful
The other two clusters of Program lU found no resemblance
with previous programs.
Another "V" analysis, once more enlisting 2li variables from 12
sites, was executed in Program 17 (Table 19).
Its hierarchical
arrangement of clusters to a large extent resembled Program 10.
With
minor discrepancies in oblique factor coefficients, the first three
clusters corresponded with those produced in Program 10.
Both programs
differed in their fourth cluster with only one variable in common
between them. That was not particularly surprising since the residual
matrix of correlation coefficients inclines toward exhaustion after
the third iteration, leaving few variables with salient covariance to
select.
The four clusters derived in Program 17 were transcribed as
factors in the "0" analysis of Program 18.
Concomitant with the "0" analysis carried out in Program 19,
a preliminary "V" analysis utilizing 2h variables from 28 subsites was
run (Table 20).
But apain, as in Procram lli also involving 28 sub-
sites, the oblique factor coefficients were disappointingly lower than
151
Table 20. Clusters generated by "V" analysis in Programs 19 and 20.
Program and
Cluster
Program 19*
1
Variable
Oblique Factor
Coefficient
Communality
End Scraper
Chopper
Discoidal
Plane
1.0295
.561*8
.1*823
.3799
1.1396
.1*552
.271*2
.31*69
2
Side Scraper
Notch
Metate
Drill
Burin
.3567
.2717
-.8158
-.70hU
-.6888
.2803
.2635
.7831
.5907
.1*777
3
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
.9398
.6809
.58LO
.51*80
.8837
.5691
.31*76
.U612
U
Side Scraper
Knives
Projectile Point
.1*56U
.3182
-.8911*
.2803
.1263
.8168
End Scraper
Discoidal
Plane
Chopper
1.0173
.9071
.5066
.1*787
1.3983
1.3551
.9303
.2363
Program 20**
1
2
Metate
Drill
Burin
.9117
.9003
.71*1*5
.81*11
.861*0
.71*05
3
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
.9731
.6386
.6267
.1*967
.9583
.1*1*15
.1*51*1*
.3110
k
Notch
Side Scraper
1.6231
.1-1*28
3.0950
.3967
5
Plane
Projectile Point
.6608
.1*019
.9303
.2792
Burin
Hearth
.7686
.71*33
.71*05
.7022
*2li variables, 28 sites
**25 variables, 28 sites
1*2
anticipated.
In Program 19, the third cluster comprising variables
preform, blade, and graver reapoeared, reinforcing the conviction that
the cluster as such is a compact and viable one.
The four variables
of the first cluster replicate those in the first cluster of Programs
10 and 17, with this difference:
clusters in the latter two programs
evince higher factor coefficients than those observed in Program 19.
The covariance of artifact side scraper with notch in one cluster and
with knife in another recalls similar duality of side scraper with
notch in Program Hi and of side scraper with knife in Program 17. The
oblique factor coefficients of Program 19 fell short of those attained
in the two earlier programs.
Not to be overlooked are the lower and
negative correlations accorded the metate, drill, and burin variables
in Program 19, compared with Program 17.
The last "V" analysis introduced in Program 20 had two clusters
arbitrarily appended to those deduced in Programs 17 and 19.
Those
clusters, having two variables each, consisted of r»lane and projectile
point in Cluster
and burin and hearth in Cluster 6. While hearth
may in no way be viewed as a
variable, it can be considered as a
artifact, it can be considered as a variable and was included in this
analysis, since hearths may afford a clue to functional activity, and
they do imply a site occupation of a less transient and ephemeral
nature than sites destiture of such features.
increased the number of variables to 25?•
The addition of hearth
Including two additional
clusters to the four generated in Program 19 entailed some change in
oblique factor coefficients and communalities.
153
Oblique factor coefficients in Program 20 were generally higher
than those in Proeram 19.
Projectile points aeain registered a nega­
tive correlation as they did in the preceding program.
That is sur­
prising since the largest single variable, ouantitatively, is
projectile points, numbering 297 from all 12 sites.
seem to be in a class all by themselves.
Projectile points
They evince little propensity
to join with other variables to form a cluster.
On the other hand,
metates, drills, and burins produced positive oblique factor coef­
ficients, in contrast to the negative ones in the preceding program.
From the eight "V" analyses projected in this study, certain
conclusions may be suggested.
It would seem that:
(1) oblique factor
coefficients are higher with variables drawn from 12 sites than from
28 subsites. The difference may be a function of the size of the
sample variables.
When 12 sites are divided into 28, the number of
sample variables in a subsite may decline below the boundary where
high correlations can be sustained.
Variables present in one part of
a site may be less concentrated or altogether absent from another part
that has been partitioned from it.
That would impair the oblioue
factor coefficient of the reduced variable in the partitioned segment
of the site.
This is merely another way of demonstrating that sample
size must be adequate to produce strong correlations. (2) As a
corollary to the above, the more clusters generated (or deliberately
imposed as in the case of Program 20), the higher will be the prevail­
ing oblique factor coefficients.
The fewer variables, the fewer
opportunities for clustering among them, with fewer clusters of
15ii
significant correlations produced. Whenever 12 variables are pro­
grammed in a "V" analysis, only three clusters, mostly in groups of
two, are formed. When 2k variables are processed, four clusters
emerge.
An exception appears on Table 17, where 12 variables formed
only two clusters, but, correspondingly, 2b variables produced three.
(3) Certain variables in alternating combinations (12 or 2h variables,
12 or 28 sites) exhibit consistent covariance among themselves and
accordingly condense into clusters.
clusters or factors, are:
Such variables, grouped into four
graver, blade, and preform; end scraper,
plane, chopper, and discoidal; burin, drill, and metate; and, fre­
quently, side scraper, notch, and knife.
The methodological sequence in the processing of an "0" analy­
sis has been outlined in the earlier part of this chaDter.
Now, it
would be advantageous to demonstrate precisely the step by step pro­
cedure followed in the BC TRY (1970) Cluster Analysis system in the
delineation of objects.
To this end, Program 20 with its appropriate
tables has been chosen to elucidate the operational steps taken in the
formulation of an "0" analysis.
When the lithic components of a site
have been identified and appraised, the artifacts are then correlated
with one another and evaluated in a matrix of correlation coefficients.
In that analysis, known also as a factor analysis, several eroups of
statistically related variables will emerpe, each group converging on
a pivot variable, forming a cluster or factor of interrelated variables.
The measure of relationship between a variable and the factor of which
it forms a part is quantified as an oblique factor coefficient (Tables
155
21 and 22).
Correlative to an oblique factor coefficient is its com-
munality, or the amount of variance that each variable accounts for in
its factor or cluster.
Coefficients and communalities that exceed
1,000 may be regarded as equal to 1.000.
For examole, end scrapers
and notches with oblique factor coefficients and communalities sur­
passing 1.000 are equated to 1.000 (Table 22).
Once factors or clusters have been isolated, they are rotated
with the objects, here representing sites, to determine the degree of
similarity which is quantified as a factor score (Table 23). The
higher the factor score, the more appropriately does the site conform
to the cluster or factor; the lower the factor score, the more remote
the coincidence of site to cluster. Conceivably, "0" analysis could
terminate at this point, but further clustering takes place, this time
of objects in a process called hierarchical condensation.
When factor
scores have been determined for each object, comparisons among them
are made and when a set of factor scores for one object (site) resembles
a set or sets of factor scores for another or several other sites, the
sites are grouped and the resultant set of factor scores represent the
mean of the original factor scores that were combined to form the
group (Table 2U).
In that way, through hierarchical condensation,
sites with similar factor scores are clustered into core or O-tvoes.
In the process of clustering objects the status of each factor
score relative to the mean is expressed by means of a digit in the
sector number.
Table 2b illustrates single objects with their original
factor scores (compare with Table 23) and also grouped objects with
Table 21. Program 20, "V" analysis of correlations of variables with oblique cluster domain
(rotated oblique factor coefficients).
Artifacts
Biface
Blades
Burin
Chopper
Chopping
Discoidal
Drill
Graver
Utilized Flake
Kammerstone
Knives
Kano
Ketate
Notch
Ovoid
Plane
Preform
Projectile Point
Converse Scraper
Disc Scraper
End Scraper
Side Scraper
Transverse Scraper
Wedge
Hearth*
Cluster 1
-.1837
-.2771
-.0222
.2x787
-.0l6Ii
.9071
.0775
.03hU
-.250lx
.0188
.0859
-.23U7
.0971
.2756
-.0110
.5066
-.2h69
.272k
-.0678
-.1UU3
1.0173
-.0998
.2826
-.1621
-.1323
Cluster 2
.055h
-.0986
.71x1x5
-.0079
.0807
.0h02
.9003
-.1097
.0890
-.1856
-.0938
-.0lx3lx
.9117
-.0199
-.1333
.0978
.0520
.0018
.2766
-.0511
.01x33
-.1077
.0027
.0675
.3527
Cluster 3
-.0588
.6267
-.0U6Ii
-.Hi90
-.1992
-.1596
-.0766
.1x967
.1850
-.2795
-.1535
-.3225
-.0711
-.Hi69
-.1279
-.2060
.6386
-.11x00
-.076li
.9731
-.1597
-.2022
.0933
.0186
.102U
Cluster Ii
.0026
-.1785
-.2033
.1969
.06iii
.0576
-.0179
.0338
-.3116
.1576
.101x5
-.116U
-.0396
1.6231
-.071U
-.0763
-.2701
-.3001
-.091x8
-.2185
.1727
.LU28
-.1166
-.1339
.0820
Cluster 5
-.1337
-.0393
-.01U9
-.272ii
.0665
-.2256
.057U
-.231x6
.01x10
-.0U2U
-.2925
-.3015
.01x1x9
-.077lx
-.lh22
.6608
.0208
.1x019
-.0322
-.0563
-.5838
-.351x0
-.111x6
-.llx9U
-.2696
Cluster 6
-.1839
.1283
.7686
-.0312
-.1817
-.2032
.5297
-.0937
-.1171
-.2762
.085U
-.0357
.5570
-.0696
-.1731
-.1169
.131x2
-.1361
.3918
-.0675
.0569
-.1900
-.1198
.3030
.7U33
* While not an artifact, sensu stricto, hearth was included in this run as a variable in Cluster 6
and correlated with the other clusters.
157
Table 22.
Cluster No.
1
Program 20, "V" analysis of variables in clusters.
Variables
End Scraper
Discoidal
Plane
Chopper
2
Metate
Drill
Burin
3
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
Oblique Factor
Coefficient
Communality
1.0173
.9071
.5066
.L 787
1.3983
1.3551
.9303
.2363
.9117
.9003
.7UU5
.81*11
.86UO
.7U05
.9731
.6267
.U967
.9583
.UU15
.!.i5Lih
.3110
1.6231
.bU28
.101x5
3.0950
.3967
.lii79
I
.6386
a
Notch
Side Scraper
Knife
5
Plane
Projectile Point
.6608
.U019
.9303
.2792
6
Burin
Hearth
.7686
.7h33
.71)05
.7022
Twenty-five variables from 28 subsites pre-set into six clusters.
Table 23.
Program 20, "0" analysis of cluster score matrix of variables.
Site No.
Cluster 1
Cluster 2
Cluster 3
Cluster Ix
Cluster 5
Cluster 6
39 N
39 S
1x5 W
h$ NC
L5 NE
1*5 wc
1x5 cc
1x5 ec
U8.99
1x5.19
58.36
5U.81
51.1x9
59.70
95.78
1x6.23
53.55
1x6.92
Ixlx.llx
1x9.78
1x8.52
lxlx.99
1x8.31
1x5.1x7
1x7.16
1x6.31
52.1x1
55.h8
71.1x5
56.30
90.92
lxlx.2lx
1x3.33
1x5.75
37.82
1x6.31
58.30
1x9.25
51.18
1x3.26
1x7.1x7
1x2.1x1
1x9.89
lxlx.56
1x3.06
1x9.96
78.05
1x5.89
1-6.39
50.33
1x8.09
1x2.10
ix6.7lx
38.29
1x7.15
68.31
59.31
5U.19
33.51
1x0.68
1x9.75
66.75
lx9.1ilx
1x6.95
Ux.38
36.1X2
50.55
1x5.26
1x5.16
59.63
38.10
58.09
60.52
52.63
1x0.56
1x8.93
53.53
56.03
50.93
59.02
62.87
79.73
61.U8
1x1.06
lxlx.33
1x5.20
1x9.19
1x1.01
1x2.12
38.65
51.2U
ixlx.Olx
50.01
1x8.1-6
1x8.09
lxlx.7lx
53.56
72.12
1x2.71
31.1x5
1x6.33
79.15
1x3.91
50.29
1x3.91
1x3.91
1x7.9lx
1x7.60
1x3.91
1x3.91
50.62
1x3.91
57.67
1x9.18
1x3.91
1x3.91
1x3.91
57.50
1x3.91
62.76
1x3.91
1x3.91
63.36
1x3.91
51.55
1x3.91
79.79
1x3.91
1x3.91
l±5
sw
U5 SE
lili.oo
57.76
60.82
ii7.02
16 NW
hi.06
L6
L6
52
53
58
65
65
66
66
70
77
77
88
88
88
89
90
1x3.07
U8.83
1x3.07
U3.07
1x3.07
58.1x3
1x3.07
1x3.07
1x3.07
1x3.07
1x3.07
1x3.07
51.90
50.97
1x9.10
91.83
L3.07
NE
S
N
S
N
S
N
S
N
S
W
C
E
16.23
1x6.23
6U.21
1x8.57
1x6.23
1x6.23
50.U8
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
50.27
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
61.32
1x6.23
1x6.23
Table 2lx.
Sector No.
110111
111011
111111
111112
111121
111201
111211
112011
112111
121012
121111
121112
211021
211101
Program 20, "0" analysis of score means of 0-types ordered by score patterns (sectors
of score space).
No.
1
1
10
2
3
1
3
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
Factor
Score 1
Factor
Score 2
Factor
Score 3
Factor
Score lx
Factor
Score 5
Factor
Score 6
1*3.07
U3.07
US.17
1x3.07
$1.91
58.U3
U5.ll
1x3.07
Ix3.07
1x9.10
59.70
1x9.00
60.82
91.83
U6.23
1x6.23
U7.70
1x8.25
1x7.65
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
1x6.23
61.32
6ix.22
95.78
1x6.23
1x6.23
37.82
1x9.25
1x8.67
1x8.7ix
1x7.32
1x5.76
1x7.56
90.93
71.b5
1x9.89
1x8.31
1x6.92
1x6.31
lxlx.56
U9.UU
36.1x2
1x6.1x1
1x8.75
51.17
66.76
68.96
33.51
59.31
38.10
1x8.09
1x9.96
38.29
58.09
5l.2lx
1x8.1x6
1x9.1x1
1x6.07
65.1x9
38.65
1x2.65
1x9.19
lxlx.33
1x2.71
50.93
52.63
79.73
31.1x6
1x3.91
1x3.91
1x6.21
63.06
U6.15
57.50
1x3.91
1x3.91
57.67
79.79
1x7.9lx
79.15
'x3.91
1x3.91
vn
vo
160
new factor scores that are actually the mean of the original factor
scores of the constituent objects.
The relation of each factor score
to the mean appears as a dieit in the sector number.
If there are six
factor scores for each object or each nroup of objects, there are six
digits in the sector number.
Sector numbers range from zero to two,
with zero identified with the mean; one, with one standard deviation
above the mean; and two, two standard deviations above the mean.
Each
sector number epitomizes an object or group of objects, with reference
to the mean.
Each digit of a sector number represents a cluster or
factor of variables which is expressed in terms of a factor score, and
the relationship of that cluster or factor to the mean and standard
deviation. For example, the sixth sector number on Table 2h is 111201.
That signifies that factor score £ (38.65) corresponding to the fifth
digit which is zero, is on or near the mean; factor scores 1, 2, 3,
and 6 (58.U3} U6.23; b5.76; and $7.$0) average one standard, deviation
above the mean, while factor score Ij. (66.76) measures two standard
deviations above the mean.
Factor scores having identical sector numbers, then, are
grouped into core of 0-types.
Four core types can be identified on
Table 2h, in the third, fourth, fifth, and seventh sector groups, with
ten, two, three, and three members respectively.
The third sector
number on Table 2k is a core type that includes ten objects all having
six factors whose score for each is one standard deviation above the
mean.
The next sector number is another core type that comprises two
objects whose first five factors are one standard deviation above the
161
mean, but whose sixth (63.06) stands at two standard deviations above
the mean.
Through repeated iterations, the basic core or 0-types are en­
larged by the addition of single sectors not initially included in one
of the original core types.
Eventually all such single sectors are
incorporated into a core type.
The degree of association between a
sector and a core type is represented as a score denoting Euclidean
distance.
The smaller the score, the more perfectly the object re­
sembles the factors that make up the 0-tyoe.
Table 2? 0-tyoe (core
type) membership table, lists Euclidean distance scores for each subsite of Program 20, in relation to the particular core or 0-type to
which the subsite is assigned.
In some cases a single sector may be forced into an 0-tyoe to
which it is ill suited but which it may resemble, however remotely,
better than any other available. Those are called "rejects" in the
sense that they have exceeded the range of tolerance for any meaning­
ful appropriation into the 0-type into which they were placed.
actually constitute individual 0-types of their own.
They
Factor scores
and site numbers of the rejects in each of the five "0" analysis pro­
grams appear in Tables 26 and 27.
For segregation in terms of function, the sites were grouped
into 0-types according to the factor scores of each cluster of variables
on the sites.
Those factor scores for the four (0-means listing of
Program 18 on Tables 28, 29 and 30, and 0-means listing of Program 19
on Tables 31, 32, and 33) or six (0-means listing of Program 20 on
Table 25•
0-Type 1
Site No.
Score
77 S
88 w
US NC
U5 NE
S8 S
US cc
70
66 s
6S S
S8 N
U6 S
US m
us wc
S2
* Reject
7.87
8.19
8.33
9.UU
11.31
11.U2
11.S3
12.2U
. 12.36
12.36
13.21
1U.8S
19.SO
US.27*
Program 20, "0" analysis of 0-type (core type) membership table.
Q-Type 2
Site No.
Score
66
77
88
U6
N
N
E
NE
39 N
U.17
U.17
2U.76*
25.75*
51.00*
0-Type 3
Site No.
Score
U5 EC
US SE
88 C
US
7.53
13.1U
13.U7
16.02
0-Type U
Site No.
Score
U6
39
90
6S
89
NW
S
N
9.16
11.19
11.37
1U.7U
US.95*
163
Table 26.
Rejects in "0" analysis with 0-means of O-types ordered by
score patterns.
53T~
Program 9
Mano
Projectile Point
Side Scraper
58N
Program
and Site
Program 18
39
52
89
90
Program 19
1*6 NE
52
89
90
Program 20
39 N
1*6 NE
52
88 E
89
66N
90
1U.8
30.ii
l*l*.l*
5.1*
2.7
1*3.2
11.1
2.7
18.9
7.1*
3.7
1*3.6
1.8
16.1*
Program 16
Core
Graver
Mano
Notch
Projectile Point
Side Scraper
Table 27.
Site Numbers
58S
5.6
18.5
13.0
21.7
Rejects in "0" analysis with factor score of clusters.
Factor Score
I*
3
1
2
51.08
1*8.66
78.25
32.72
80.63
39.63
50.50
1*7.27
15.51
79.91*
15.36
hi.88
57.27
37.03
1*8.56
67.53
1*6.1*3
87.60
25.08
60.85
UU.90
56.96
53.56
71.1*5
90.93
1*1*.56
1*3.06
58.52
39.67
50.52
67.56
1*9.00
13.07
1*3.07
1*9.10
91.83
95.78
1*6.23
1*6.23
61.32
1*6.23
1*6.92
71.1*5
90.93
1*9.89
1*1*.56
1*9.96
59.31
33.51
38.10
58.09
I18.69
5
6
52.63
UU-33
1*9.19
U2.71
31.1*6
79.15
57.67
1*3.91
79.79
1*3.91
16U
Table 28. Program 18, "V" analysis of variables in clusters (2U
variables, 12 sites).
Cluster
Variables
Oblioue Factor Coefficient
Communality
1
End Scraper
Plane
Discoidal
Chopper
.9361*
.8818
.81*77
.8232
.9781
.8552
.7816
.831*1
2
Burin
Metate
Drill
.9322
.9098
.9091
1.1018
.8817
.8807
3
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
.91*12
.8009
.7857
.71*01
.8869
.71*33
..6536
.6820
k
Side Scraper
Knife
.9033
.7021
.953U
.6121
Table 29.
Program 18, "0" analysis of 0-means of 0-types (core types).
Factor scores of clusters.
O-Type
Factor
Score 1
Factor
Score 2
Factor
Score 3
Factor
Score 1*
1
50.61*
1*7.26
1*7.51
38.61*
2
U7.U7
1*8.Ol*
1*8.96
51*.7l*
165
Table 30. Program 18, "O" analysis of 0-type (core type)
membership table.
O-Type
Site
1
h5
88
70
89
52
b.05
h.32
8.09
29.58*
33.hi*
2
58
66
65
77
h6
90
39
6.98
8.1h
8.U6
10.oh
11.25
20.78*
33.07*
* Reject
Score
166
Table 31.
Cluster
Program 19, "V" analysis of variables in clusters (2U
variables, 28 subsites).
Variables
Oblique Factor Coefficient
Communality
1
Chopper
Discoidal
Plane
End Scraper
.561*8
.>4823
.3799
1.0295
.1*552
.271*2
.3h69
1.1396
2
Side Scraper
Notch
Metate
Drill
Burin
.3567
.2717
-.8158
-.701*1*
-.6888
.2803
.2635
.7831
.5907
.1*777
3
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
.9398
.6809
.581*0
.51*80
.8837
.5691
.31*76
.1*612
I*
Side Scraper
Knife
.1*561*
.3182
.2803
.1263
Table 32.
Program 19, "0" analysis, 0-means of 0-types (core types).
Factor scores of clusters.
Factor
Score 1
Factor
Score 2
Factor
Score 3
Factor
Score It
1
53.81
32.03
1I8.72
1*6.1*3
2
1*8.2t0
51.01
U7.31U
W*.87
3
50.80
58.10
1*9.00
65.00
O-Type
167
Table 33. Program 19, "0" analysis 0-types (core
type) membership table.
O-Type
Site
Score
O-Type
1
88 E
WC
U5 NW
39 N
6.U3
7.30
8.91
19.87
3
2
70
88 W
U5 NE
hS SE
NC
77 N
58 N
88 C
US EC
66 S
h$ CC
65 S
77 S
66 N
U5 SW
52
6.06
6.80
6.81
7.33
Table 3U.
Site
Score
U6
58
65
1*6
39
U6
90
89
7.36
10.02
10.32
11.73
15.88
23.93*
26.91*
39.81*
NW
S
N
S
S
NE
8.I18
8.97
9.23
9.26
9.30
11.20
11.U9
11.97
12.Oh
13.91
16.Hi
UU.32*
Program 20, "0" analysis, 0-means of 0-types.
Factor scores of clusters.
Factor
Score 1
Factor
Score 2
Factor
Score 3
Factor
Score h
Factor
Score 5
Factor
Score 6
1
a8 .27
a8.7a
a?. 85
a6.oi
a9.60
a5 .99
2
a3.07
a8.25
a8.7a
1*8.75
a6.07
63.06
3
5a. iu
a7.29
a7.07
a?. 95
69.05
a5.59
a
as.aa
a6.23
a7.11
68 .ai
ai.65
a7.3i
O-Type
168
(Table 3h) clusters that made up an O-type represent the various means
of individual factor scores of the clusters of all sites that fell
within the O-type.
Factor scores for the same cluster of variables
may vary from one O-type to another.
Also, the same O-type could have
a high factor score for one cluster but a low one for another.
A cur­
sory inspection of all the factor scores for several O-types enables
one to perceive at a glance the precise factors or clusters that dis­
tinguish one O-type from another.
For instance, in the O-means listing
of Program 20 in Table 3U, O-type b is characterized by a high factor
score (68.Ul) in cluster Uj O-type 3 by a high factor score (69.05) in
cluster $; O-type 2 by a high factor score (63.06) in cluster 6; while
O-type 1 presents a picture of peneral homogeneity of factor scores
for all six clusters of variables.
Table 22 lists the precise vari­
ables, i.e., tool types, that combine to form the clusters whose factor
scores distinguish one O-type from another.
Thus O-type 3, with a high
factor score (69.0^) in cluster £ indicates an emphasis on planes and
projectile points for the four subsites — h5 EC, U5 SE, 88C, and
SW — that make up O-type 3•
Since factor scores distinguishing
O-types are over-all averages of specific factor scores of individual
site clusters, it is possible that one or two variables may be missing
at a particular site and the cluster still be represented because of
the presence of other variables of that cluster.
Likewise, since
factor scores are also the over-all averages of the combination of
clusters that identify an O-type, it is equally possible that a cluster
whose presence is ostensibly signalized by a factor score may be
169
altogether absent, yet the site be included in the O-type because of
its similarity to the remaining clusters forming the O-type. For in­
stance, in Program 20 in Table 25, O-type U included site 90 as a
member with a rather high score of 11.87.
In the 0-means listing, the
second highest factor score of U8.UU pertained to Cluster 1.
According
to Table 22, Cluster 1 comprises end scrapers, discoidals, planes, and
choppers.
site 90.
Presumably, at least some of those variables would occur on
In fact, however, none do.
That demonstrates the necessity
of verifying the presence or absence of variables within clusters, or
of clusters within 0-types, when distinguishing sites on the basis of
factor scores delineating one O-type from another.
These observations
do not undermine the value or validity of segregating 0-types, and
therefore sites, on the basis of factor scores; they only suggest the
exercise of caution in their use and application. Finally, factor
scores for individual tools grouped into 0-types were calculated in
Programs 9 and 16 (Tables 35> 36, 37, and 38).
To classify sites on the basis of functional pursuits, factor
scores of artifact clusters or individual artifacts from three pro­
grams were contrasted (Table 39).
Program 18 with 2b variables from
12 sites and Program 20 with 25 variables from 2h subsites provided
the widest latitude of variables from minimal and maximal areal
boundaries.
As a supplement to the other two, Program 16 was intro­
duced to focus particularly on side scrapers, projectile points, and
cores.
In conjunction with Program 16, Program 20 afforded the oppor­
tunity not only to define sites but also to isolate areas within
170
Table 35.
O-Type
Program 9, 0-means of 0-types; factor score of variables
(3 variables, 12 sites).
Factor Score 1
Mano
Factor Score 2
Projectile Point
Factor Score 3
Side Scraper
1
U.50
1U.U2
19.10
2
1.97
25.15
7.65
Table 36.
O-Type
Site
1
16
39
90
77
65
58
* Reject
Program 9, 0-type membership table.
Score
5.66
6.13
6.19
7.U6
9.0b
111.29*
O-Type
Site
Score
2
89
70
52
66
b5
88
5.7U
8.02
9.55
10.93
12.66
13.98
171
Table 37.
Program 16, O-means of O-types; factor scores of variables
(6 variables, 28 subsites).
Factor
Score 2
Factor
Score 3
Factor
Score h
Core
Graver
Mano
I
7.81
2.1*9
2
U.30
3
6.19
9-Tm
Factor
Score 1
Factor
Score 5
Factor
Score 6
Notch
Proj.Pt.
Side Scr.
U.18
3.3U
19.38
11.32
U.30
0.00
9.27
10.63
29.20
1.8U
1.65
3.83
U1.65
10.83
Table 38.
O-Type
1
* Reject
Program 16, O-type (core type)
membership table.
Site
Score
66
U6
U5
70
89
U5
39
77
88
65
52
65
77
66
90
58
58
6.87
7.11
8.86
9.LU
9.79
10.11
10.62
13.61
Hi.78
15.16
15.58
15.63
17.59
23.3h*
26.U7*
U3.39*
Wi.97*
S
S
wc
NW
N
N
E
S
N
S
N
S
N
O-Type
2
Site
Score
U6 NE
8.75
10.8U
13.U2
U6 W
39 S
3
88
U5
U5
U5
U5
U5
U5
88
SE
6.86
7.13
7.9U
8.19
8.U0
8.67
9.15
C
9.hh
W
NE
NC
EC
cc
sw
sites where Cochise hunters and gatherers addressed themselves to the
performance of certain probable tasks during site occupation. Site
classification based upon functional activities inferred from the
lithic composition shall be proposed in the next chapter.
Table 39. Factor scores of variables on sites and subsites
Tool Type
Program 16*
Projectile Point
Side Scraper
Core
Notch
Mano
39 N
39 S
b5 NW
U5 NC
h5 NE
b5 WC
b5 CC
19.38
11.32
7.81
10.63
29.20
19.38
11.32
7.81
1*1.65
10.83
6.b9
1*1.65
10.83
6.b9
19.38
11.32
7.81
U1.65
10.83
6.1*9
50.6U
50.6b
50.6b
50.6b
50.61*
50.6U
50.61,
50.61*
50.6b
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.6b
50.61,
50.6b
50.6b
50.6b
50.6b
50.6b
U7.26
b7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
b7.26
b7.26
b7.26
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
b7.5l
b7.5l
U7.51
1*8.27
1*8.27
1*8.27
1*8.27
1*8.27
1*8.27
9.27
Program 18*
End Scraper
Plane
Discoidal
Chopper
Burin
Metate
Drill
80.63
80.63
80.63
80.63
80.63
80.63
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
Side Scraper
Knife
Program 20aEnd Scraper
Discoidal
Plane
Chopper
Metate
Drill
Burin
57.2?
57.27
b8.27
1*8.27
19.60
1*8.27
52.63
1*8.71*
95.78
95.78
95.78
Disc Scraper
Preform
Blade
Graver
1*8.71*
1,8.71*
1*8.71*
b8.7b
1*7.85
1*7•85
1*7.85
b7.11
h7.11
Notch
Side Scraper
Knife
Projectile Point
Hearth
57.27
57.27
68.ia
68.U1
52.63
79.15
ia.65
1*7.85
1*7.85
1,7.85
1*7.85
1*7.85
b6.01
b6.01
b6.01
b6.01
U6.01
b9.60
1*9.60
1*9.60
b7.85
b7.85
1*7.85
1*9.60
b9.60
*Program 16, 6 variables, 28 subsites; Program 18, 2b variables, 12 sitesj
Program 20, 25 variables, 28 subsites.
subsites.
i5
NE
d.65
.0.83
6.1*9
;o.6Li
;o.6i*
;o.6i*
>0,61*
i7.26
t7-26
17.26
tf.5l
*7.51
i7.5l
*7.51
1*5
wc
19.38
11.32
7.81
50.6U
50.61*
50.61,
50.61*
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*5
cc
1*1.65
10.83
6.1*9
EC
U5 sw
1*5
1*1.65
10.83
6.1*9
hi.65
10.83
6.1*9
1*1.65
10.83
6.1*9
1*5
SE
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.6!*
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
1*7.26
U7.26
1*7.26
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
50.61*
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.26
1*7.51
1*7.51
U7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*7.51
1*8.27
51*.lU
51*.H*
69.05
51*.ll*
69.05
18.27
1*9.60
1*8.27
h6
NW
1*6
NE
10.63
29.20
10.63
29.20
9.27
9.27
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
51*.71*
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
5U.71*
1*8.1*1*
1*6 S
52
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
51*.71*
79.91*
79.91*
79.91*
79.91*
58 N
c
11.10
5.60
1
l*l*.l*0
I
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
57.7U
57.7U
1*8.27
69.05
1*8.27
1*8.7b
1*8.71*
1*8.71*
i7.85
*7.85
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*7.85
*6.01
*6.01
*9.60
1*9.60
1*7.85
147.85
1*7.85
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*9.60
•iables, 12 sitesj
1*7.29
1*7.07
1*7.07
1*7.95
1*7.95
1*7.95
69.05
69.05
1*7.07
1*7.07
1*7.0?
1*7.95
1*7.95
1*7.95
69.05
1*7.11
1*7.11
1*7.11
68.1*1
68.1*1
68.1*1
71.1*5
71.1*5
71.1*5
71.1*5
59.31
59.31
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*7.85
90.93
90.93
90.93
90.93
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*6.01
1*9.60
1*9.19
52
19.38
11.32
7.81
58 N
58 5
65 W
65 s
11.10
5.60
18.90
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
UU.UO
1*3.20
5.1*0
66 N
7.1*0
11*.80
66 S
70
77 N
77 S
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
1*8.Ol*
US.01*
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
51*.71*
18.50
79.91*
79.9k
79.9k
79.9k
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
57.71*
57.71*
57.71*
57.71*
51*. 71*
51*. 71*
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
51*.7li
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
51*.71*
51*.71*
1*8.96
1*8.96
1*8.96
5U.71*
51*.71*
1*7.51
1*7.51
38.61*
1*8.1*1*
1*8.1*1*
63.06
90.93
90.93
90.93
90.93
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*6.01
U9.19
1*8.71*
1*8.71*
1*7.85
1)7.85
1*7.11
1*7.11
1*6.01
1*6.01
68.1*1
68.1*1
68.1*1
1*9.60
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*9.60
1*7.31
1*8.75
1*8.75
1*6.07
63.06
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*9.60
1*9.60
1*8.71*
1*8.71*
1*7.85
1*7.85
1*8.75
1*8.75
1*6.01
1*6.07
63.06
1*9.60
88
Ls
>.38
-.32
.81
.96
.96
.7b
.7b
.01
.01
.60
173
66
N
7.U0
Hi.80
66
S
19.38
11.32
7.81
70
19.38
11.32
7.81
77 N
77 S
88 W
88
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
bl.65
10.83
6.b9
1*1.65
10.83
6.1*9
19.38
11.32
7.81
19.38
11.32
7.81
50.6b
S0.6b
SO.61*
SO.6)*
50.6b
SO.6b
78.25
78.25
78.25
50.6b
So.6)4
50.6b
b7.5l
U7.51
U7.51
1*7.si
1*7.SI
1*7.SI
U7.S1
b7.5l
H7.51
C
88
E
89
90
13.00
21.70
30.b0
18.£0
U8.96
U8.96
U8.96
5b.7b
5b.7b
U8.96
U8.96
1*8.96
5b.7b
5b-7U
b7.5l
U7.51
38.6b
b8.0b
US.01;
b8.96
1*8.96
U8.96
U8.96
5b.7b
5b.7b
b8.56
b8.S6
1*8.27
b9.10
69.0S
I18.27
63.06
U8.7U
b8.7b
b8.75
b8.75
U6.07
63.O6
U7.8S
b7.85
U6.01
b6.01
U6.01
3U9.60
U9.60
67.53
67.53
91.83
91.83
91.83
91.83
79.79
b8.7b
b8.7b
1*7.85
b7.85
b8.75
b8.75
U6.01
U6.07
b9.60
63.06
bl.88
b7.85
b7.85
b7.8S
1*6.01
1*6.01
1*7.07
1*7.07
b9.89
1*9.89
1*7.95
1*7.95
1*7.95
38.10
1*9.60
1*5.99
69.05
U2.71
79.79
U7.ll
bb.56
bb.56
58.09
58.09
58.09
68.m
68.m
bl.6S
CHAPTER 6
CONCLUSIONS
Fundamental to a description of the activities performed at
the Cochise sites evaluated in this report is an appraisal of the range
of utilization possible for each tool. While it would simplify matters
considerably to be able to assign only one or two functions for any
given tool, ethnographic evidence (Lowie 1909, 192U; Spier 1928;
Mooney 1912j Wissler 1920; Ewers 1937; Steward 1938; Gould 1968a,
1968b) confirms the vide range of activities in which any single type
of tool could be successfully employed.
Since a tool is amenable to
many different uses, its particular function at a site or subsite can
be inferred with some degree of specificity by considering its associ­
ation with other tools. The purpose in deciphering factors or clusters
of tool types in the preceding chapter was to achieve precisely that
aim:
to elicit a correlation matrix of covariance among tool types in
specific localities as a step toward functional interpretation.
What applies to the functional evaluation of individual tools
may be extended, on a higher level or plateau, to a factor or cluster
of tools themselves.
A cursory glance at the tool types making up one
or another factor suggests a generalized set of activities in which
tool types of that factor could have been engaged.
But in order to
determine with more exactitude the particular function (or limited set
17U
175
of functions) in which a cluster of tools within a factor had been used
on a certain site, it becomes mandatory to move outside that factor and
to consider other factors whose tool types impinge directly upon those
of the factor under consideration.
For instance, preforms, blades, and
gravers of Factor 3 in Program 20 imply light cutting and piercing
activities, but only in conjunction with tool types of the factors
associated in the same 0-type with the factor in question, is it pos­
sible to ascertain, within reasonable limits of probability, what was
being cut and perforated.
Therefore an accurate appraisal of the func­
tions performed at a site presupposes a correlation among two or more
factors of tool types within the site, and a reliable measure of covariance among tool types within each factor.
Consequently, the more
stringent functional specificity one desires, the wider must be the
range of tool types introduced into the analysis.
To determine as accurately as possible the functions carried
out on the 28 Cochise subsites, supplementary data apart from that
inferred strictly from the association of tool factors themselves were
used.
Thus, the number and distribution of hammerstones and cores
with related data on flake count and flake/tool ratio helped to dis­
tinguish sites where tools were being manufactured from those where
simple resharpening or refurbishing took place.
Also, the frequency
and the mean of edge angles on the right and left lateral quadrants of
side scrapers, and the distal quadrant of end scrapers, provided clues
to functional differentiation, as did the number and the edge angle
measurement of those scrapers whose retouch was denticulate.
Finally
176
the distribution of hearths among subsites also sharpened the func­
tional interpretation.
These subsidiary data, added to that embodied
in the tool types themselves, contributed significantly to an under­
standing of function and to a categorization of each site or subsite
(Tables UO and Ul).
Table h2 lists the probable functions each tool tyr>e could have
performed.
In addition, the suggested uses for those classes of tools
whose edge angles fall within various prescribed limits has been pro­
posed.
In preparing this functional list, ethnographic reports pre­
viously mentioned were consulted for analogies of tool usage.
In a
remarkably informative report on stone tool preparation and use, based
on observations in a living archaeological context among Western Desert
Aborigines in Australia, Gould and his associates (Gould, Koster and
Sontz 1971s 1U9-169) relate that implements with edge angle means be­
tween 3E>° and h0° were used as knives while other large flakes whose
edge angle means varied between 67° and 75° functioned as adzes or
scrapers.
Knives were used to cut sinew, flesh and vegetal fibers;
adzes (scrapers) served mostly as woodworking tools.
Blocky handaxes
detached limbs from trees and modified them for subseouent use as spear
shafts.
Manos and slab metates were numbered among the artifact
assemblage for grinding and pulverizing seeds and nuts.
For butcher­
ing, wooden wedges were pounded into joints of larger game to disar­
ticulate them while flake knives were used to cut skin, tendon, and
muscles.
In the manufacturing process wooden batons were utilized
and, strangely, the Australian Aborigines also used their teeth for
retouch.
Table UO.
Site
No.
Edge ancles of scrapers.
Side Scraper
Edge Angle 2
DenticMean
ulate
No.
Edge Angle It
DenticMean
ulate
No.
End Scraper
Edge Angle 3
DenticMean
ulate
39 N
39 S
h
12
i s SE
h
U3.3
6U.U
71.7
hs sw
U5 ec
2
2
7
65.0
L5.0
62.5
3
8
27.5
67.5
hs wc
IS NW
US cc
US NE
us NC
U6
U6
NW
NE
U6 s
52
58 N
58 S
6
1
U
2
h
12
U
51.7
68.5
68.3
2
1
1
2
2
7
3
8
65.0
55.0
71.7
25.0
70.7
2
3
1
60.0
55.0
67.5
33.3
72.1
2
50.0
65.7
65.6
1
3
2
7
9
3
3
8
2
7
9
UO.O
68.3
6h.h
9
1
57.0
70.0
1
9
1
57.5
90.0
2
7
77.5
63.0
1
2
7
60.0
70.8
3
U
1
77.5
2
1
75.0
70.0
h
76.3
2
62.5
1
UO.O
3
1
2
6
1
U
3
8
2
61.7
35.0
67.5
30.0
70.7
80.0
. 1
2
1
1
u
Table*UO.
Site
No.
65 N
h
65 S
66 N
66 S
Edge angles of scrapers—Continued
Side Scrat>er
Edge Angle 2
Dentic­
Mean
ulate
No.
60.0
3
1
62.5
65.0
5
U5.0
ii
3
1
Edge Anele h
Dentic­
Mean
ulate
70.0
)J5.O
No.
End Scraper
Edge Anele 3
DenticMean
ulate
1
60.0
1
75.0
1
6o.o
6
70.0
2
U5.0
55.0
70
1
35.0
77 N
2
u
25.0
66.3
U
5o.o
77 S
1
1
1
1
88 ¥
88 C
1
5
2
30.0
55.0
20.0
65.0
57.5
2
30.0
75.0
20.0
65.5
85.0
88 E
1
35.0
89
3
62.5
3
70.0
90
5
53.3
5
56.7
1
5
1
2
179
Table hi.
Distribution of lithic materials used for inferring function
of sites.
Site Wo,
Cores
39 N
39 S
SE
U5 sw
U5 EC
1*5 wc
U5 NW
3
U5 cc
L»5 NE
U5 NC
U6
U6 S
1
5
1
7
3
5
6
1
2
1
5
L
1
2
5
58 N
58 S
1
2
65 N
65 S
2
3
66 N
66 S
It
N
S
W
C
E
Flake/Tool
Ratio
61*. 78
Hearth
Manos
U
U
1
1
30851
67.76
2
1
2
2
2
2
1
1
3
52
70
77
77
88
88
88
89
90
Flake
Count
5178
a
NW
1x6 NE
Hammers
2
2
11
2
2
2
2
3
2
1
1
1
3015
23.8k
280
18.67
116
2.56
738
20.69
610
10.81*
612
3U.22
1085
21*.1*7
1900
26.12
6
16
2
3
3
3
5
U
2
1
2
3
1
7
1
1279
593
1*5.71
l*o.oo
180
Table U2.
Suggested functional use of stone tools and degrees of edge
angles.
Tool Type
and Edge
Angle
Suppested Functional Use
Blade
Light cutting plant and animal foods and hides
Whittling wood
Burin
Incising Bone,
Horn and Antler
Groove Wood
Chopper
Crack Nuts and Bones (marrow extraction)
Dismember bone joints of large game animals
Chop limbs from trees and leaves from base of
agave plant for fiber.
Discoidal
Scraping skins, whittling wood and bone, cutting
Drill
Perforate bone, wood, horn and shell
Graver
Pierce holes into hides (clothing or shelter)
Soft incising
Knife
Cutting plant foods and meat
Dismember came
Whittling bone, wood and antler
Mano
Grinding seeds, berries, nuts, bone and pigments
Smooth hides
Crack bones and nuts
Metate
Grinding base for seeds, berries, nuts, bone,
and ochre
Notch or Spokeshave
Trim wood, bone, antler into cylindrical form for
arrow and dart shafts, handles and foreshafts
Fire drill shafts and awls
Strip bark from twigs for making baskets
Plane
Scrape, shred, and chop plant food, wood, bone
Trim flesh and fat from hides
Preform
Cutting implement before final fashioning into
point or knife
Projectile Point
Pierce game during hunting
Cut hide and meat
Sometimes used to drill and perforate
181
Table h2. Suggested functional use of stone tools and degrees of edge
angles—Continued.
Tool Type
and Edge
Angle
Suggested Functional Use
End Scraper
Scrape fat and flesh from hides
Soften hides by currying
Side Scraper
Scrape flesh from hides
Trim wood, bone, antler
Cut skins
Shred plants for fiber, e.g., yucca for cordage
Denticulate
Saw, scrape, fleshing tool to remove muscle, fat
and connective tissue from hides and fibers
from plants
Saw wood and bone
20° - U5°
Cutting meat, hides, and plant products
U£° - E£°
Scraping hides, cutting bone and wood when edge
is denticulate
60° - 7$°
Wood and bone working
Soften skins
Heavy duty plant processing
Over 7$°
Horn, antler and bone trimming.
182
Conclusions derived by Semenov (I96h) and Wilmsen (1968, 1970)
from configurations of wear patterns observed microscopically were also
incorporated into the functional analysis.
Both Binford and Binford
(1966: 2UU-2E>9; 19.69: 70-8U) and MacNeish (19^8: 57-9U) furnish func­
tional interpretations of tools recovered from archaeological premises,
the former from a Mousterian context, the latter from caves in the
Tamaulipas area of northeastern Mexico.
The pitfalls inherent in
attempting a functional classification of stone tools was discussed
by Bordaz (1970: Ul-la7) who noted that several different types of tools
could have been used for the same purpose.
Bordaz also cautioned that
stone tools recovered in an archaeological site may represent worn-out
implements that could have been altered several times from one "type"
to another before being finally discarded.
erated the thought of Frison (1968: 3it9).
In that respect, he reit­
Bordaz appealed most con­
vincingly for a study of wear patterns on lithics, along the lines
advocated by Semenov, as prime evidence for the determination of
functional usage.
Until such studies can be undertaken and certitude achieved,
ethnographic analogy remains an important source for defining func­
tional activities of certain tool types.
The closer in time, space,
and environment — social and climatic ~ the living society is to the
prehistoric one, and less acculturated the living society has become,
the more reliable will be the comparison between them.
In the case
at hand, ethnographic data compiled from Great Basin societies in
the early part of this century while some residue of the aboriginal
culture remained intact, is more relevant for comparison with the
183
prehistoric Cochise Culture than data gleaned from more geographicallyremote groups.
sterile.
Data from the latter sources, however, would not be
They would provide supportative information on previously-
interpreted functional usage, and they would also suggest possible
ranges of variation and adaptability in the use of stone tools by
human groups.
A comparison of Great Basin and Cohise Culture artifacts
does not imply a perfect one to one correlation.
Quite the contraryI
For one thing, present-day hunters and gatherers live in marginal en­
vironments unlike those inhabited by their predecessors prior to the
advent of agriculture (Lee and Devore 1968: 5).
While the area of the
Southwest inhabited by Cochise people several millenia ago was warm
and dry, it was not as dessicated as the Great Basin, then or now.
Consequently, agriculture was able to supplant hunting and gathering
in the Southwest as the principal subsistence base, but it never
succeeded in the Great Basin, except in isolated enclaves for short
periods of time.
Also, societies today are not so isolated that their
culture has survived undiluted from contamination of contact with more
complex societies and technologies since prehistoric times (Clark 1968:
280).
As Freeman (1968: 263) asserted, modern hunters and gatherers
do not represent in unblemished form past stapes of cultural develop­
ment.
Ethnographic data do provide, however, sources of inspiration
for model-building and formulation of hypotheses whose verification
depends upon scientific testing; and they furnish insights into the
behavioral patterns of people and their ways of resolving problems,
18U
e.g., subsistence and environmental adaptation, that have analogues in
the past as Binford (1967: 1-12j 1968: 268-273) so lucidly pointed out.
Consequently ethnographic analogy constitutes a resource and a stimulus
in suggesting probable functions attributable to the array of Cochise
implements grouped under the factors.
The factors of tool types distinguishing one subsite from
another are diagrammed on Table 39 of the preceding chapter.
By re­
ducing the tool types of each subsite to the proposed functional
activities described in Table lj2, and by a further elucidation of
function through the articulation of pertinent data in Tables UO and
111, the tentative range of activities enacted on each site or subsite
could be developed (Table h3).
Where sites warranted subdivision into
smaller spatial units, areas of specific functional activity could at
times be discerned, as well as areas exhibiting functional similarity.
In the absence of carbonaceous material — charcoal, bone, or
vegetal ~ susceptible to radiocarbon determination, dating the sites
in terms of cultural stages could be done only by means of projectile
point typology.
This is an unsatisfactory and inconclusive method
since points of a former stage could easily survive into a later period
due to either persistence of traditional styles in the manufacturing
process or to the chance discovery and use of earlier stage points.
Projectile point styles, when identifiable, were Chiricahua or San
Pedro.
Cazador points, which eouate with the Sulohur Sorinr? Stage,
were not encountered.
Site 90 had no projectile points and therefore could not be
located temporally by this means.
Projectile points on sites 58 and
18*
Table 1x3*
Site
Functional activities at sites.
Functional Activities
39 N
Plant food processed by grinding, pulverizing, cracking
and cooking
Seeds parched for storage
Wood and bone implements manufactured and bored
Some participation in hunting.
39 S
Wood implements and possibly bone made by sawing and
whittling (e.g., baskets, handles, shafts, awls, bows)
Hides fleshed, scraped, cut, and punctured for clothing,
sandals and shelter
Lithic tools produced
SE
Mainly hunting and butchering
Hides processed by fleshing, scraping, piercing and
cutting
Wood and bone implements made (baskets, handles, shafts,
bows, awls). Both may have been sawed.
Meat cut and cooked
Hides tanned, lithic tools produced
U5 SW
Mainly hunting and butchering
Hides fleshed, scraped, dressed and cut for clothing,
sandals, shelter
Wood implements made (but no shafts)
Stone tools manufactured
Meat probably cooked and hides possibly tanned
U5 EC
Mainly hunting and butchering
Bones cracked and plants chopped for fiber, netting,
cordage and sandals
Bone and wood tools sawed and whittled
Hides fleshed and scraped, and stone tools made
WC
Plant foods shredded (for fibers?) and ground and cooked
Wood and bone tools sawed and bored
Some hunting
Stone tools manufactured
U5 NW
Seeds, berries and nuts ground and parched for storage
Nuts and bones cracked and some plant shredding possible
Hides cleaned and scraped and smoothed
Bone tools made and possibly wooden ones also
Stone tools produced
Some hunting
186
Table h3.
Site
U5 CC
NE
Functional activities at sites—Continued
Functional Activities
Hunting emphasized
Hides scraped, softened, and cut
Meat trimmed
Bone, antler and wood tools made
Some cooking and plant food processing
Stone tools manufactured
Hunting emphasized
VJood implements made and some possibly sawed
Lithic tools produced
U5 NC
Hunting emphasized
Hides fleshed, scraped, pierced, and smoothed
Bones crushed and plant products chopped
Meat processed
Lithic tool manufacture
U6 NE
Sawing, whittling, trimming and scraping of wood and
possibly of bone and antler tools
Stone tools refurbished
lj6 NW
Wood cut, sawed, and whittled into tools (baskets, shafts,
handles, awls, and bows)
Hides fleshed, scraped, cut and pierced
Lithic tools resharpened
U6 S
Hides scraped, softened and pierced
Wood tools sawed and scraped
Plants and tree limbs cut and chopped
Bones crushed
Some hunting
Stone tools refurbished
£2
Butchering, cutting and piercing of hide and meat and
cracking of bone
Hunting an important activity
Stone tools renovated
£8 N
Scraping, cutting and smoothing of hides
Possibly some plant food processing
No lithic production or renovating
58 S
Hide fleshing, cutting and smoothing
Wood and bone implements probably made
No concern for flake stone manufacturing into tools
187
Table U3.
Sites
Functional activities at sites—Continued
Functional Activities
6£ N
Wood tools made by sawing, scraping and whittling
Hides fleshed, scraped, cut and punctured
Wood, bone and plant products chopped
Plant food processing and cooking
Stone implements resharpened
6£ S
Hunting emphasized
Hides scraped and processed
Wood implements and possibly bone and antler sawed and
finished
Stone tools renewed
66 N
Plant food ground, processed and cooked
Cutting of game and probably of plant products
Some hunting
Lithic implements resharpened
66 S
Cutting and piercing some hides
Wood and bone tools made
Some hunting Dractised
Lithic tools renovated
70
Hides cut, scraped, and pierced
Meat processed
Some hunting evident
Stone implements renewed
77 N
Plant foods processed and cooked and seeds parched for
storage
Bone and wood tools produced
Some hunting and game dismemberment
Stone tools resharpened
77 S
Meat preparation
Some hunting and hide processing
Stone tools renewed
88 W
Hunting emphasized
Hides fleshed, scraped, cut and pierced
Wood sawed, whittled and finished into tools
Bones cracked and agave chopped
Plant products cut, shredded, ground and cooked
Stone implements resharpened
88 C
Mainly hunting and butchering
Hides scraped and cut
Wood implements manufactured and stone tools renovated
188
Table U3.
Sites
Functional activities at sites—Continued
Functional Activities
88 E
Meat and plant products processed and cooked
Bone, wood and antler tools made with some sawed and
incised
Hides fleshed, scraped, cut and possibly tanned
Lithic tools renewed
89
Hide processing predominant — fleshed, scraped, cut
and punctured
Bones cracked and wood tools made by whittling and
trimming
Plant products chopped and stone tools manufactured
90
Scraping, cutting and puncturing of hides
Some hunting
Stone tools made at site
189
6$ were non-diagnostic in the sense that basal attributes, when present,
were not sufficiently distinctive to classify the sites.
77 were clearly San Pedro stage sites.
Sites
and
Besides the easily recognizable
27 San Pedro points and many non-diagnostic fragments, site
yielded
two Chiricahua points as well, which may represent an earlier occupa­
tion.
In view of its size and lithic density (Tables 9 and 10), site
may have been occupied initially during the terminal Chiricahua
stage with later reuse during the San Pedro.
as Chiricahua.
Six sites were identified
They were sites 39, U6, £2, 66, 70, and 88, where
projectile points of Chiricahua morphology were recovered.
Site 89 is
more difficult to classify since its style of projectile points seems
to overlap both stages.
Pedro.
It has been tentatively grouped with the San
In summary, then, three sites belong to the San Pedro period,
six to the Chiricahua, and three remain unknown.
In terms of environ­
mental provenience, two of the San Pedro sites are in the hillside
zone while the six Chiricahua sites are equally distributed in both
zones (Table U3).
Before analyzing the functional aspects of each site, a dis­
tinction between base camp and work camp must be made.
According to
Binford and Binford (1966: 268-269) a base camo was dedicated to
maintenance or supportative activities such as food preparation, tool
and clothing manufacture.
Work camps were temporary places where
extractive tasks such as hunting, food collecting, stone quarrying,
and assembling raw materials for manufacturing purposes, were conducted.
Between the two stood the transient camp or overnight station for
190
groups traveling from base camp to work camp and back again.
Mainten­
ance activities, characteristic of base camps, could be performed at
work camps if the latter were occupied for a sufficiently long period
of time or if they were geographically distant from the base camp.
This does not mean, however, that base camps were permanently occupied
while work cajnps were used only on a transient or ephemeral basis.
Both kinds of camps were seasonal habitations! sites, distinguished
principally by the type of activity performed within them.
During
seasonal cycles social units most likely freouented the same work
area, especially if it were a favorite food collecting or hunting
locality.
This occurred among Great Basin bands who gathered piri'on
nuts at favorite haunts in the mountains year after year before re­
turning to their preferred base camp.
In that sense there was some
suggestion of permanence to base camps, but it was a permanence of
successive return rather than a permanence of uninterrupted occupation.
The 12 Cochise sites in this report exemplify both types of settlement:
base camps and work camps.
Base camps with their emphasis on maintenance activities may
be distinguished from work canros by their food processing implements
and by the presence of hearths.
prehistoric population.
Hearths were important features to a
They were indispensible in the cooking aspect
of food preparation; in annealing flint and other cryptocrystalline
cores to assure better flaking control in lithic tool production; in
tanning hides, where such treatment was desired; in parching seeds
preliminary to storage or consumption; in providing warmth and light
191
especially in winter months; and during ritual observances where fire
was an integral part of the ceremony.
Another constituent of base camps was the ubiquitous milling
stone, manos and metates.
Mortars and pestles, which occur at some
San Pedro sites elsewhere, were conspicuously absent in all the Cochise
sites discussed here.
The lack of metates at most Cochise sites in
this report may be attributed to a practise witnessed ethnographically
among some Great Basin bands of transporting metates with them during
seasonal peregrinations (Downs 1966: 22) or perhaps to the activities
of recent collectors who purloined metates from sites as trophies.
Base camps also manifest a wide range of cutting, chopping, boring,
and scraping implements used in plant and animal food processing,
clothing and textile production, and lithic and non-lithic (wood, bone,
antler) tool manufacturing.
In contrast, specialized work camps may
concentrate on one or possibly a few of those functions but omit the
wide range of activities and features peculiar to base camps.
Of the 12 sites analyzed in this report, six were base camps.
They included sites 39, It!?, 65, 66, 77, and 88.
Three of those —
sites 39, U5, and 88 — were located in a hillside environment and the
other three in a riverine.
small.
Sites
and 88 were large sites; site 39
Coincidentally, two of the sites in the riverine ecozone —
sites 6^ and 77 — were also laree, and site 66 in the same ecozone
was regarded as small (Table 5).
Sites 39, 66, and 88 belong to the
Chiricahua stage; sites U5 and 77 represent the San Pedro; but the
cultural stage of site 65 is undetermined.
These six base camp sites
192
were the only ones to contain hearths and manos.
One exception is site
58, whose 2)4 handstones, more than twice the number found on any other
site regardless of size, sets it off as a specialized site by itself
with a functional orientation to be explained shortly.
Within the six
base camps, areas of specific functional activity could be perceived.
The work camps include three sites in the hillside area:
the
large Chiricahua site U6, and the small sites 70 and 89, the former
Chiricahua and the latter San Pedro.
The three riverine work camps
include large Chiricahua site £2 and two smaller sites on undetermined
cultural affiliation, sites £8 and 90.
The small Chiricahua hillside
site 39 (Fig. 12, in pocket) was essentially a base camp.
Plant food
processing, cooking, and probably bone tool manufacturing took place
on the northern part of the site. Wooden implements were presumably
produced in the southern half where the steep angles of 12 side
scrapers were well suited for whittling, barking and peeling wooden
artifacts and possibly bone also. The two denticulates on this part
of the site could serve as efficient for hide fleshing; the nondenticulates for hide scraping.
The large San Pedro hillside site
(Fig. 13, in pocket) may
also be defined as a base camp where extractive activities of hunting
and butchering prevailed in the southern and eastern parts of the site
(southeast, southwest, east-central, center-central, northeast, and
north-central) along with maintenance activities of hide processing,
wood and bone tool manufacture carried out as auxiliary activities.
The steep edge angles of side scrapers including some denticulates
193
would facilitate wood and bone tool production and the dressing down of
hides.
Maintenance tasks involved in plant food processing seems con­
centrated in the western section of the site (west-central and north­
west) where butchering activities were reduced to a minimum and the
manufacture of bone, wood and lithic tools were transcendent.
Steep
angled and denticulate scrapers suggest shredding of plant foods.
Acute angled scrapers could not only cut and chop vegetal foods, but
also cut and whittle bone and wood artifacts.
Denticulates are well
adapted to flesh hides and shred plant products.
Steep-edged side
scrapers and end scrapers make effective tools for hide processing.
Acute angled scrapers are accommodated to cutting meat, hides, and
plant materials.
The absence of manos, metates, and hearths on Chiricahua site
U6 (Fig. 1U, in pocket), wo\ild exclude it from base camp classification
and relegate it to a work camp status.
Here the focal center of
activities converged on non-lithic implement production, particularlywood, and on preliminary processing of hides.
The steep angled
scrapers with their scatter of denticulates support that interpreta­
tion.
Hunting seems to have been less important at this locality
where lithic tools were resharpened rather than produced.
This may
well have been an area for specialized plant gathering — such as
berries, seeds, or nuts — and the supplemental manufacture of basket
and tray containers.
Hunting on a small scale probably took place
since the occupants of this site certainly participated in hide
dressing.
19h
The tool components of the large Chiricahua site $2 (Fig. 15,
in pocket) strongly indicate a hunting and butchering station where a
cutting, piercing, and chopping inventory predominates. The low flake/
tool ratio concords with the view that tools, dulled in the process of
butchering and dismemberment, were resharpened. The complete absence
of side and end scrapers, counterbalanced by only one disc scraper,
although an enormously large one that had been used in chopping opera­
tions, would tend to preclude hide processing as an operation enacted
at this site. Site $2 may be defined as a specialized work camp, an
extractive hunting and butchering spot of the Chiricahua stage in a
riverine environment.
Site £8 (Fig. 16, in pocket) of an undetermined age, is a
unique work camp.
Although a small site in a riverine locality, it
consisted of two sections bl meters apart that contained among other
things 2h manos or handstones, but contrary to expectations, no hearths
or metates.
Dominating the lithic assemblage besides handstones which
comprised kh% of the total, were cutting and scraping tools and used
flakes.
That collection denoted extensive processing and finishing of
hides on a large scale, judeing from the quantity of handstones. The
steep angles on the site's nine side scrapers were judged appropriate
for hide s-raping.
The two dozen handstones, all small and mostly
bifacial with a gleen or polish on the working surface, were likely
employed in the maintenance task of softening hides.
The use of small,
smooth stones in the final phase of hide processing has been documented
by Lowie (l92lj: 227) for the Uintah Ute and Wind River Shoshoni.
195
Ewers (1937: lt5) and Wissler (1920: 59) mention the use of a smooth
stone for rubbing a fat and brain compound into hides to render them
soft and pliable.
Mason (1891: 553-589) also commented on the use of
nibbing stones in hide work.
Despite the absence of metates, which
occur only on sites 39 and b5 anyway, and the lack of hearths, it is
conceivable that plant processing on a minor scale may have been pur­
sued.
It is eaually possible, in view of the presence of scrapers and
cutting implements, that some wood or bone tools were fashioned.
On
the other hand, lithic tool manufacture was almost non-existent on this
site as the flake/tool ratio so palpably demonstrates.
Since both
parts of this site manifested the same tool types, intrasite func­
tional specialization could not be projected.
Site 58, then, is clas­
sified as a specialized work camp concentrating on the dressing and
finishing of hides.
Site 65 (Fig. 17, in pocket), likewise of undetermined age,
is a large riverine base camp having two parts separated from each
other by 20 meters.
The northern part supports maintenance activities
found in a base camp:
wood and possibly bone tool production; hide
preparation; plant processing and the extraction of fibrous material
for cordage and textiles; cooking and possibly seed parching; hide
tanning; and lithic resharpening.
The southern part of the site sug­
gested hunting and related activities such as hide work, wooden
artifact production of a kind affiliated with hunting, as replenishment
of arrow shafts, knife handles, and bows.
In both parts of the site,
the deposit of lithic remains indicates renovating rather than manu­
facturing stone tools.
196
Site 66 (Fig. 18, in pocket), a small Chiricahua site in a
riverine location, also consisted of two parts, one to the north of the
other.
The northern segment exhibited maintenance features reminiscent
of a base camp where processing and cooking of plant and animal foodsj
parching seeds for preservation and future consumption, with some
possibility of butchering and tanning of hides is indicated.
The tool
inventory on the southern part of the site implies hide dressing with
the manufacture of wooden artifacts as quite likely.
Stone tools were
repaired at this site but not manufactured since the flake/tool ratio
is too low.
Activities on the southern segment of the site are a
mixed maintenance and extractive.
The small hillside Chiricahua site 70 (Fig. 19, in pocket) has
a tool inventory reflecting extractive functions indigenous to a work
camp where game was procured and butchered and the hides detached for
subsequent dressing.
The edge angle of the site's single side scraper
conforms to cutting rather than scraping resistant material.
Nine
used flakes strengthen the conviction that cutting and butchering game
was the focal activity performed at this site.
Site 77 (Fig. 20, in pocket) was a large San Pedro site toward
the river.
It consisted of two parts or units separated by 7$ meters.
The northern part witnessed the parching and cooking of plant foods;
the production of wooden and bone artifacts; and the procurement of a
minimal quantity of game.
Artifacts on the southern part relate to
meat preparation and hide dressing as a result of hunting.
Site 77
may be regarded as a base camp with evidence of extractive tasks con­
curring along with maintenance on the southern portion of the site.
197
Site 88 (Fig. 21, in pocket) was a large Chiricahua settlement
with its long axis on a east-west trajectory, spatially divided into
three zones. The western and central zones emphasized extractive
functions of hunting and butchering with some maintenance tasks carried
on in wood and bone tool productionj hide processing and softening;
and chopping, shredding, pulverizing, parching and cooking plant foods.
The lithic industry was restricted to refurbishing worn-out tools.
The eastern end of the site focused more vigorously on base camp main­
tenance tasks.
Hunting and butchering receded into the background to
be replaced by bone and wood tool production; processing and cooking
foods; and treatment of hides.
Again, stone tools were refinished,
not newly made.
Site 89 (Fig. 22, in pocket), a small San Pedro site by the
mountains, is a specialized work camp for the performance of mainten­
ance functions.
Here hides were processed, wood and bone tools made,
and cordage and textiles prepared from vegetal fibers. The steepness
of side and end scrapers suggest wood and bone work.
At this site,
it is probable that stone tools were made as well as retouched after
use.
Finally, the small riverine site 90 (Fig. 23, in pocket) of
indefinite cultural age, represents a work camp that featured hunting
and hide dressing.
Edge angles in the 50's for side scrapers fell
within an acceptable range for hide scraping.
Like the previous site,
occupants of site 90 likewise participated in the production of stone
tools associated with the hunting and butchering complex.
198
The six base camps recognized in this study possessed manos and
hearths, the two essential features that justified their classification
as base camps.
Hearths were not found on any work camp nor did manos
appear except on site £8 where they are presumed to have been used as
hide softeners.
with each other.
Hearths and manos were always found in conjunction
Six of the 12 sites belonged to the Chiricahua stage
and three to the San Pedro, covering a time interval from about 3,500
B.C. to 300 B.C.
Each base camp could be subdivided into ajreas of
discrete functional activity.
Work camps, being smaller in area and
in lithic content, entertained only one functional duty per site, of
either an extractive or maintenance character. The one exception to
the functional singularity of work camps was site h6 (Table Lb).
The functional analysis described in this report relegated
the data to maintenance or extractive tasks undertaken in base camps
or work camps in the two environmental ecozones where Cochise Culture
sites are found.
The Chiricahua and San Pedro stages occurred in both
classes of campsites and in both types of environment.
The structure,
function and distribution of the sites was quite revealing.
Base
camps, emphasizing maintenance functions and to a lesser degree ex­
tractive tasks, were not restricted to large sites, as one may surmise,
but occurred also among those designated small, such as sites 39 and
66.
Conversely, not all work camps were small sites.
Site l|6, for
example, was large in area and in lithic content.
Contrasting maintenance and extractive functions with respect
to base camps and work camps, no strict correlations could be discerned.
199
Table UU. Campsite classification.
Site size
and
Location
Site
Cultural Stage
Class
Function
Activities
39 N
Chiricahua
Base
Maint.
Bone work,
plant pro­
cess, stone
tool mfg.
Small,
hillside
39 S
Chiricahua
Base
Maint.
Hide process,
wood tools
small,
hillside
U5 E & S San Pedro
Base
Extract.
Maint.
Bone, wood,
large,
hide process. hillside
Food prep.
li5 W
San Pedro
Base
Maint.
U6
Chiricahua
Work
Extract.
Maint.
Food prep.
Wood & bone
tool, stone
tool mfg.
Hunt & butcher
Wood tools
Hide process
52
Chiricahua
Work
Extract.
Hunt & butcher large,
riverine
58
Unknown
Work
Maint.
Hide process small,
Plant process? riverine
65 N
Unknown
Base
Maint.
Plant process large,
Hide process riverine
Wood tool mfg.
65 S
Unknown
Base
Extract.
Maint,
Hunting
large,
Hide process riverine
Wood tool mfg.
66 N
Chiricahua
Base
Maint.
Plant process small,
Cooking
riverine
66 S
Chiricahua
Base
Extract.
Maint.
Hunting
small,
Wood tool mfg. riverine
Hide process
70
Chiricahua
Work
Extract.
Hunting
Meat process
large,
hillside
large,
hillside
small,
hillside
200
Table Uu
Campsite classification—Continued
Site size
and
Location
Site
Cultural Stage
Class
Function
Activities
77 N
San Pedro
Base
Maint.
Plant process
Bone and wood
tool
large,
riverine
77 S
San Pedro
Base
Extract.
Hunting
Meat process
large,
riverine
88 W & C
Chiricahua
Base
Extract.
Maint.
Hunt and
large,
butcher
hillside
Plant process
Wood tool mfg,
Hide process
88 E
Chiricahua
Base
Maint.
Food prep.
large,
Bone tool mfg, hillside
Hide process
89
San Pedro
Work
Maint,
Hide process
small,
Wood tool mfg. hillside
Stone tool
mfg.
90
Unknown
Work
Extract.
Hunting
Hide and Meat
prep.
small,
riverine
201
While it is true to say that maintenance activities of hide processing
or implement production fall under the purview of base camps, and ex­
tractive functions of hunting and butchering game signalled work camps,
there were notable exceptions.
For instance, the extractive duties of
hunting and butchering were significant components of base camps
and
88 and at least present in three other base camps where they appeared
as subsidiary operations.
Likewise, maintenance tasks of hide dressing
and tool production, whether wood or bone, took place at three work
camps usually associated with extractive activities.
In only one
respect could the axiom of no correlation between type of function and
character of campsite be challenged. The maintenance function of food
processing was almost exclusively restricted to base camps.
The one
possible exception was site 58 where some of the plethora of manos may
have been used in plant food processing, e.g., pulverizing seeds or
pods.
This possibility is enhanced if the Cochise people did indeed
carry their metates away with them upon departure from a site.
A somewhat similar dissociation may be observed in comparing
maintenance and extractive functions with respect to one or the other
environmental zones.
Again an absence of correlation between the two
variables function and ecozone becomes apparent.
To illustrate:
hunt­
ing and butchering were highly significant operations in the hillside
region at sites h5, 70, and 88; but they were eoually significant at
riverine localities 52 and 90, and less so at sites 65, 66, and 77.
The maintenance functions of tool manufacture and hide processing
crosscut both ecozones on sites designated large as well as on those
202
considered small.
Hence, the principal function defining a site in no
way correlated with the zone in which that site was located.
What may be inferred from these postulates?
Simply this:
that the adaptation was not to one or the other ecozone but to certain
plants and animals of major importance that crosscut both environmental
zones.
Among these could be numbered mesquite pods, agave plants,
deer, rabbits, etc.
Also, the Cochise population during the Chirica-
hua and San Pedro stages exploited the plant and animal resources of
both environmental zones in a seasonal cycle utilizing the biota of
one ecosystem as it ripened and fructified before moving off to another
as maturation there took place.
Hunting animals, processing hides,
manufacturing implements, collecting, preparing and processing food
resources for consumption or storage, crosscut both environmental
zones on large and small sites throughout Chiricahua and San Pedro
cultural stages.
Base camps as focal centers of operations were es­
tablished in both environmental zones with specialized groups going
out to garner specific items for the economic and technological needs
of the society.
In the pursuit of activities denoting sexual division
of labor one may speculate that women gathered cactus fruits, grass
seeds, and mesquite pods in the late spring and throughout the summer
in concert with the rainy season while men assembled raw materials for
manufacturing implements and participated, sometimes in cooperative
groups, in hunting cottontail rabbits and in stalking or ambushing
larger game such as deer, if the animal population were sufficiently
large to justify their capture or demise.
During the late summer or
203
early fall, when the bands retreated to hillside sites, women harvested
piffon nuts for winter storage while men again tracked deer, or, in
concert with several bands, corralled antelope.
Following the pifion
nut harvest, the whole group would collaborate in a jackrabbit drive
after which winter encampments would be made on lower elevations.
Fruit of the agave plant would be available only during the late spring
when food reserves were dangerously low, but the heart of agave leaves,
a tasty morsel when properly roasted, could be procured at any time.
The descriptive pattern of gathering and hunting conjectured
here must not be interpreted as a static model.
Changes in the pattern
to respond to particular needs and the exigencies of emergency situ­
ations, surely occurred.
For instance, deer could have been hunted in
the springtime and summertime, when rains made succulent, edible plants
available.
Deer were not necessarily hunted only in the fall season
when the population trekked to the mountains.
Site 58, with its hide
processing equipment in a riverine location, suggests just such an
operation:
ambushing or otherwise dispatching large numbers of deer
in the summertime while the people were still centered in the valley.
It would seem that the lithic remains on site 58 are better adapted
for processing hides larger than rabbit skins.
The animals and plant
foods mentioned here have all been identified in Chiricahua and San
Pedro horizons in Ventana Cave, Bat Cave, Tularosa Cave, and on various
Cochise sites in southeastern Arizona (cf. Tables 3 and U; Flannery
1966: 800-805; 1967a: 132-177; 1968: 67-87; Downs 1966: 25-3b; Steward
1955: 101-121).
20U
The deployment of large and small sites in both hillside and
riverine environments in which maintenance and extractive tasks were
conducted on base camps and on work camps connotes a society utilizing
a wide range of biotic resources in a rotational cycle of seasonal
exploitation through effective use of a settlement pattern of mobile
encampments.
Frequent migration from one camp to another followed the
exhaustion of culturally acceptable food resources in one area and the
maturation of the same and other resources elsewhere.
The preferred
center of activity was the montane or hillside zone where dense concen­
trations of lithics scattered over extensive areas signified the reoccupation of the same sites for many seasons.
Larere sites in a
riverine ecozone, while quantitatively smaller in lithic residue than
hillside camps, also experienced repeated occupations but less inten­
sively than those observed on the hillsides.
The discrepancy in lithic
density, and hence in intensity of occupation, between hillside and
riverine sites calls for explanation.
If the same population were using hillside and riverine sites
on a seasonal basis as this paper predicates, one would expect that
the period of occupancy at the two environmental zones would be some­
what equivalent, given the time limits for plant maturation at dif­
ferent altitudes.
In that case, the lithic remains should also
register an equivalent density.
That it has failed to do.
The dis­
crepancy may not be attributed to a difference in functional activity
between the two zones, since functions performed in one zone substan­
tially duplicate those exercised in the other.
The probability that
20$
plant resources, such as pifion nuts were harvested at higher elevations
in the mountains and processed at the hillside sites; or that deer and
other game animals were tracked down in the fall season in a hillside
ecozone, would make that zone an especially attractive one for foragers
and hunters.
That being so, one may construct and project as a model
for future investigation the hypothesis that the collection of nuts in
pifion groves and the pursuit of game encouraged foragers and hunters
from the riverine sites analyzed in this report and located due east
of the Whetstone Mountains, as well as from other possible riverine
sites yet to be located northeast and southeast of the Whetstone Moun­
tains and even from the eastern branch of Babocomari Creek south of
the Whetstones, to converge seasonally at hillside sites for the ex­
ploitation of pine nuts and deer.
In such an event, hillside sites
would have been occupied no more frequently than riverine sites but
the enhanced intensity of occupation, documented by the higher lithic
density, would have been attributable to a larger population assembling
periodically in the hillside zone from a wide radius of riverine areas,
but returning and dispersing to those areas following the harvest.
The validity and accuracy of this reconstruction is contingent upon
extensive field work in locating Cochise campsites by the San Pedro
riverine zone northeast and southeast of the Whetstones and along the
eastern course of the Babocomari, and in associating those prospective
sites with the hillside sites under discussion.
If Cochise sites of
Chiricahua and San Pedro aee can be discovered in the San Pedro valley
northeast and southeast of the Whetstone Mountains and in the valley
206
of the Babocomari, with a lithic density commensurate to that recorded
in the six riverine sites described in this report, then the proposi­
tion presented here favoring the temporary amalgamation of many Cochise
bands in hillside camps for intensive seasonal collecting and hunting,
from widely dispersed riverine locations (and not only those due east
of the mountains) would have been vindicated.
Alternatively, were the
riverine bands described in this report the only ones to occupy the
hillside sites, then they must have remained longer in that habitat
in the annual cycle of migration, than in the riverine.
The migratory circuit imposed bv the subsistence technology
had the effect of limiting the level and complexity of social organi­
zation and the size of the population.
Where p^therini? assumes a
dominant role in the subsistence efforts of a society in close articu­
lation with its biotic environment, a limitation on the size of the
social units may be predicated, since the dispersion of resources
instigates a high degree of mobility.
Factors discriminating against
social aggregates greater than bands of approximately 2$ members (see
Birdsell 1968: 23b-23£; Steward 1969s 291) were the handicaps in
transporting equipment while at the same time required to carry and
care for infants and small children; the physical inability to nurse
more than one child at a time especially during prolonged periods of
lactation, indirectly limiting the number of children desirable in a
family unit; and finally, the need to regulate consumption of food
resources to forestall irreplaceable depletion, and at the same time
to conserve some for future needs, particularly durine less than
207
optimal circumstances when drought, parasitic insect invasion, floods,
or some other natural disaster intervened and seriously impaired the
productive capacity and potentiality of plant and animal food resources.
In hunting and feathering societies, and probably among the
Cochise as well, nucleation of social units of about 25 members organ­
ized into extended family segments constituted the basic form of
social structure.
Allocating ten square meters living space per
individual (Binford 1968: 2h7i Freeman 1968: 2h8) one would expect
the minimal site size to be at least 2^0 square meters. This dimension
conforms perfectly to the two smallest sites described in this report.
They were sites 70 and 90, both hunting and butchering stations situ­
ated, one in a hillside and the other in a riverine environment.
They
measure 2£0 and 252 square meters respectively. From each site came
the smallest quantity of finished tools for the particular environment
it occupied (Table 5).
Their small size in areal dimensions and in
lithic array implies a single occupation on each.
The accommodation
of 25 members in a hunting and gathering band should not be taken as
inflexible; variations must be admitted.
Social composition and
membership no doubt fluctuated, with emigration of some members to
other bands being compensated by the immigration of other individuals.
Large sites on the hillsides represent successive occupations
when families returned to former camping grounds and established a
short interval residence, not in the exact spot previously vacated but
in an adjacent or contiguous spot. The influx of many bands to hill­
side sites motivated by economic needs, also accounted for the
208
largeness of those sites especially if they converged from a wide
radius of riverine localities to the mountain zone as postulated above.
The assembly of bands on hillside sites provided a platform and an
opportunity for rare social interaction outside the confines of one's
own familial social unit.
The allocation of specific activities accordinp; to sex lines,
i.e., sexual division of labor, may be inferred from comparison with
ethnographic societies.
Hunting seems at first sight to be a man's
task, yet that is not always so.
In rabbit hunts where nets were used
to entrap the victims, and in sporadic antelope drives where the ani­
mals were caught by corralling, a population of several bands with the
women and children participated.
Ambushing deer devolved upon a group
of men who collaborated in the task; deer could also be procured by
stalking the animal, using a mask or disguise for the purpose.
stalking involved a lone male hunter.
Usually
Skinning and butchering animals
was usually the preserve of men, but either men or women could have
processed hides.
Gathering and collecting plant foods was reserved
almost exclusively for women, although men did assist in pinon nut
harvesting.
Fishing was usually a function for men, eciuipped with
special apparatus of spears, hooks, traps and wiers.
sils were usually manufactured by women.
Household uten­
They included such items as
baskets, metates and manos, digeing sticks, etc.
The production of
hunting equipment — bows, arrows, darts, projectile points, scrapers,
etc. devolved upon the men who used them.
Usually in whatever activity
an individual participated, that person was responsible for the manu­
facture of the apparatus associated with the activity.
209
A recurrent question that has perplexed archaeologists for
several decades concerns the presence of corn or maize in the Southwest
since at least 2,000 B.C. (Dick 1965: 105) and the little effect this
cultigen exercised on the culture or lifeway of the Cochise bands in
any demonstrable way until a few centuries before Christ.
It has been
customary to attribute the supposed Cochise indifference to agriculture
either to a lack of those innate vital characteristics that inaugurate
quantum leaps in cultural progression or to an unwillingness to submit
to a change that would entail interrupting if not forfeiting their
seasonal cycle of gathering.
and more secure.
The old ways, presumably, were better
Conservatism to cultural change was alleged as the
reason that deterred the Cochise form adopting and exploiting corn
agriculture.
Such arguments may no longer be sustained.
If a dry Altithermal blanketed the Southwest, and the spell
was broken about 2,000 B.C. coincident with the arrival of corn, why
did not corn, so the question runs, reinforced by the more favorable
climatic shift, transform the subsistence habits of the Cochise then
instead of nearly 2,000 years later?
To resolve this ouestion to the
extent it can be resolved with the data at hand reouires a more objec­
tive approach than that implicit in the alleged state of cultural unpreparedness on the part of the Cochise.
A resolution of the problem
requires answers susceptible to repeated testing with subsequent
verification, modification or discard of the hypotheses upon which the
answers rested.
The earliest corn recovered in Bat Cave in a Chiricahua deposit
was a pre-Chapalote pod popcorn (Dick 1965: 97), followed soon
210
thereafter by Chapalote specimens.
This primitive form of maize
thrived at high altitudes in a relatively moist environment.
That the
area around Bat Cave, which stands at an elevation of 6,500 feet, en­
joyed greater moisture during the period of Cochise occupation than
today, either through increased rainfall or the percolation of pools
and sorings, may be inferred from the character of the botanical life
that invested the cave *?ith Chaoalote maize,
From Chiricahua and San
Pedro levels came evidence of walnut, oak, and t>ine trees, with such
plants as cattail and bulrush, all species that require more moisture
than the amount current today ( Dick 1965: 89).
Therefore the two
conditions prerequisite for Chapalote cultivation — moisture and
altitude — concurred at Bat Cave.
Of the two, it would seem that
the more pressing would be water, since the altitude at which this
primitive race of maize flourished was most likely only tangential to
an adequate water supply.
The yield from the tiny cobs of maize 2-3 cm. long, increasing
in size only slightly in the centuries following its arrival, was
probably considerably inferior to the harvest accumulated by gathering
traditional plant products.
Undoubtedly maize was cultivated at Bat
Cave in the sense that it was planted near accessible bodies of water
or during the rainy season, left to shift for itself, and then gathered
when the community returned from foraging expeditions elsewhere.
That
little effort was made to enhance its productivity may be assumed from
the failure to find any significant increase in cob length or kernel
size during the entire Chiricahua sequence and during most of the San
Pedro occupation (Dick 1965: 93).
211
At one other Cochise site may the presence of corn be tenta­
tively documented as far back as the Chiricahua stage. That was the
Cienega Creek, Point of Pines site, where )j2 grains of corn pollen
appeared in a scan of 57,000 grains (Martin and Schoenwetter I960: 333li).
The site stands about 7,000 feet high.
Water was not far away
for during Cochise times wells were dug to siphon off water (Haury
1957: 2, 11).
Corn cobs have been collected in considerable ouantities at
Tularosa Cave but only in the Terminal San Pedro horizon, the earliest
cultural stage recorded at that site (Martin and others 1952: b68, L>70).
At Ventana Cave, the first appearance of corn was in conjxmction with
pottery, dated about the time of Christ, although the Chiricahua and
San Pedro stages were well represented in the cultural material de­
posited in the cave (Haury 1950: 150, 162, 165). Tiny primitive cobs
of the pre-Chapalote or Chapalote race of corn unearthed at Bat Cave
appear nowhere else in the area traversed by the Cochise people in the
Southwest.
A possible exception are a few tiny cobs of primitive pre-
Chapalote strain discovered at Swallow Cave in Chihuahua, in a pro­
venience suggesting an age of about H,000 years (Mangelsdorf and Lister
1956: 162-163; Mangelsdorf, MacNeish, and Galinat 196U: 539). In size
and in shape they resemble the earliest cobs found in Bat Cave.
Only
two sites in the Southwest afford some tangible evidence of corn in
the Chiricahua stapre:
Bat Cave, where the evidence is conclusive;
Cienga Creek, Point of Pines, where the evidence, based on a small
pollen count, is less definitive. Significantly, the sites in question
212
were relatively high — over 6,000 feet ~ with evidence of adequate
water resources at the time of prehistoric occupation.
Bat Cave and
Cienga Creek sites, to which Swallow Cave may be provisionally added,
are the only sites in the Southwest from late Chiricahua to Terminal
San Pedro, i.e., from 2,000 B.C. to £00 B.C. to furnish physical evi­
dence of incipient agriculture.
Between Terminal San Pedro and Early Mogollon, or from £00 B.C.
to A.D. 1, a major transition in the economic system took place.
Corn
agriculture became more widespread and penetrated environments hitherto
closed to it.
Houses aripeared, indicative of semi-permanent residence;
pottery arrived at this time, facilitating the storage of grain by
protecting it more effectively against infestation by rodents; and the
overpowering example afforded by the Hohokam who migrated into the
Southwest about 300 B.C. to settle on the Gila, bringing with them
sedentary village agriculture, accomplished craftsmanship and a de­
veloped pattern of canal irrigation indicative of engineering skill
and a well integrated social system.
All those impulses contributed
to the replacement of the nomadic cycle of gathering and collecting
that had characterized indigenous populations in the Southwest for
many millenia by a sedentary form of residence and ultimately village
life, enriched by more elaborate ritual practises and more integrative
forms of social organization.
To suggest that agriculture blanketed the Southwest about
2,000 B.C. with the introduction of corn and souash (Dick 1965: 87,
98, 100, found souash in strata contemDoraneous with the earliest
213
maize in the Chiricahua levels; beans aopeared with the early San
Pedro.
Neither squash nor beans varied much from the lowest to the
upper levels and never attained the prominence of corn), can no longer
be substantiated.
It is true that corn agriculture did penetrate cer­
tain privileged areas of the Southwest where conditions were receptive
to its introduction.
But to acknowledge cultivation of corn in a few
advantageous localities in the Southwest U,000 years ago is quite dif­
ferent from suggesting that the Cochise people everywhere possessed
the knowledge to engage in agriculture but declined to use it.
evidence indicates the exact opposite.
The
It is most likely that the
majority of the Cochise in their seasonal huntine and foraging pursuits
circulated in altitudes well below the 6,000 foot level and were not
aware of the potentially selective advantage to be derived from corn
agriculture.
Even if they did know about it, they were not in a posi­
tion to use it since they migrated across ecozones whose moisture and
altitudinal limits fell below those best adapted for the cultivation
of Chapalote maize.
Even the Cochise at Bat Cave seem not to have
grasped the inherent value of corn.
For centuries it remained a small
inconspicuous plant that never attained, until much later, sufficiently
large proportions to justify much effort in its cultivation. Through­
out the Chiricahua stage at Bat Cave and into the San Pedro corn cobs
were small.
But about £00 B.C. a change took place with mutagenic
effect on cob and kernel size, initiating a series of transformations
in the culture of the people, culminating in the emergence of a new
culture recognized as the Mogollon.
came to an end.
With that, the Cochise Culture
21U
The catalyst that provoked change in Chapalote maize with farreaching reverberations, was the introgression of teosinte, a relative
of corn, producing a hybrid Tripsacoid that was both drought resistant
and susceptible to cultivation at lower elevations.
Added to that,
the cobs and the kernels became larger as hybridization accelerated,
climaxing the Mogollon times in the full-grown ear of corn seen today.
No teosinte introgression could be detected in corn at the
Chiricahua levels in Bat Cave.
Hybridization began during the San
Pedro where halfway through that stage it measured 27 percent although
cob lengths remained almost the same until the latter part of the San
Pedro (Dick 1965: 93),
By the Terminal San Pedro when teosinte germ-
plasm had progressed to £7 percent with a perceptible growth in size
of cobs and width of kernels, a tripsacoid race of corn was emerging,
with the advantages of greater resistance to aridity and correspond­
ingly greater potentiality for diffusion throughout the semi-arid
Southwest.
As tripsacoid maize was evolving, houses began to appear, con­
sisting mostly of shallow floors, for the first time in the Cochise
Culture.
The house floors and associated storage pits, either within
or outside the perimeters of the houses, date from the San Pedro stage
and were found mostly in the floodplains.
At Charleston (Benson 8:3)
in the San Pedro valley, Sayles (l9h$i 1, Plate I) discovered a house
I4 m. long, 2-1/2 m. wide, and l/2 m. deep.
Burrowed within this
structure was a storage pit 1-1/2 m. in diameter.
In the Sulphur
Spring Valley, 5-1/2 miles southwest of McNeal he (Sayles 19U5: 1, 3»
215
Plate II) excavated a smaller oval house floor with dimensions of 3 m.
by 2.U m. enclosing a slightly bell-shaped storage pit 1-1/2 m. in
diameter (Pearce 8:h).
Each house floor had a fire area inside the
outlines of the edifice.
The location of a fire area within the
boundaries of a structure suggests a dual function:
warmth.
cooking and
Considering the small dimensions of the "houses" and the heat
generated by hearths, it seems probable that during the summer months
cooking took place outside rather than inside.
From that one may infer
that the houses in the floodplains found by Sayles were inhabited
during winter months when heat produced by cooking also provided
warmth, or vice versa, for the occupants.
Such a seasonal residence
confirms the postulate that winter quarters were generally erected in
lower elevations.
Neither structure reported by Sayles had postholes although
the McNeal house floor did have three amorphous shallow depressions
that might have served to socket roof supports.
At Wet Leggett Pueblo in the Reserve area of New Mexico, Martin
and Rinaldo (1950; li30) encountered a round-floored "house" plan 2.5
or 2.6 m. in diameter.
It too lacked postholes leading Martin to con­
clude that it may have been constructed of hides or wattle and daub.
This structure was stratigraphically isolated in a preceramic horizon
just below a Pine Lawn occupational level.
In addition to the architectural features proposed as houses,
fire pits and storage pits of the San Pedro stage were uncovered by
Sayles (19U1: 23) at the type site near Fairbank (Ariz. EE:8:1).
216
Here three large bell-shaped storage pits and several other shallow
depressions, surpassing normal pit size and identified as possible
house floors, were encountered. Subseouently near Fairbank (Benson
$:10) two storage pits, each one 2 m. wide were found near the three
pits excavated earlier (Sayles 19h£: 3).
In the Sulphur Spring valley
at a site encoded Pearce 8:11, Sayles (I9h5: 3) observed a fire pit
2 m. wide and 1-1/2 m. deep, harboring a residue of burned stone, char­
coal, and artifacts, suggesting an oven.
At Cienega Creek Point of
Pines site Haury (19?7: 10-11, 22-210 exposed nine wells, several cre­
matory pits, and one oven pit, spanning a temporal and cultural horizon
from a Chiricahua well pit to the San Pedro oven pit.
tory pits also date from San Pedro times.
The two crema­
Also dating from San Pedro
times were two possible house pits with 22 cooking, burial and storage
pits found in Matty Canyon by Eddy (1958: 31-37), on the west flank of
the Whetstone Mountains.
Coincident with the cultural florescence eoitomized in droughtresistant hybridized corn and incipient pithouses with storage facili­
ties, was the introduction of ceramics into the Southwest. From the
evidence at Tularosa Cave, pottery first made its aopearance about
200 B.C. (Martin and others 19^2: 1(83).
While hardly classified as
sophisticated, the earliest pottery was not rudimentary or experimental
either, but indicated the acceptance of an innovation that had its
origin elsewhere.
The earliest form was a plainware referred to as
Alma Plain or Rough, and San Francisco Red.
Hemispherical bowls and
globular jars were common, the latter ideal for grain storage.
As
217
with house structures, the presence of pottery presupposes a propensity
toward sedentarism.
Granted that pottery has the peculiar quality of
being practically indestructible, it is also fragile and fractionates
easily if subjected to the hazards of freouent traveling of the kind
enjoined on a gathering society.
The appearance of ceramics in the
Southwest and its acceptance by the Cochise hints at a shift in eco­
nomic pattern then taking place, with cultivation of domestic resources
gradually displacing dependence on seasonal foraging.
Finally an event of epic magnitude with repercussions to be
felt in the Southwest, transpired about 300 B.C. That was the influx
of a wave of immigrants into Arizona from the northern periphery -possibly Durango or Zacatecas ~ of the high cultures and civilizations
of Mesoamerica.
The new group into the Southwest, the Hohokam, pene­
trated northward to the Gila where they settled by its banks in a
community called Snaketown.
Unlike the indigenous San Pedro Cochise
still practising a hunting and gathering way of life with all the
cultural stagnations such an ambulatory system imposes, the Hohokam
arrived endowed with the material accoutrements and technological
expertise of a well advanced food-producing, village-dwellinp sedentary
society.
In their earliest or Vahki Phase three centuries before
Christ, the Hohokam were quite familiar with the cultivation of a small
cobbed Chapalote popcorn, sustained and nurtured by a hydraulic system
of canal irrigation.
Their engineering proficiency in water technology
was matched by the astuteness and skill of their craftsmen in the
manufacture of turquoise mosaics, shell ornaments, sculptured stone
vessels, figurines, and ceramics, all superimposed on stable domestic
and ceremonial architectural constructions and on an efficient farming
economy (Haury, personal communication).
It is difficult to assess with precision the impact of Hohokam
culture on the indigenous population in the Southwest.
Certainly the
San Pedro Cochise must have been deeply impressed by the example of a
sedentary society subsisting principally on agriculture with sporadic
supplementary hunting, and enjoyinp the highest measure of material
and technological sophistication of any cultural group then in the
Southwest.
The agricultural success of the Hohokam, conditioned by
their mastery of hydraulic engineering in their labyrinth of canals,
under environmental conditions identical to those facing the Cochise,
must have stimulated them to reassess their own cultural standards and
inspired them to emulate the new arrivals in a more dedicated appli­
cation to agriculture.
In short, the concurrence of a larger and more hardy species
of corn, the living model of a high standard of culture with its roots
in cultivation, as epitomized by the Hohokam, and the advent of
ceramics, could have persuaded the Cochise to re-evaluate their own
cultural forms and to accept with modifications those innovations that
conformed to their own cultural conventions and institutions.
The
appearance of houses with storage pits a few centuries before Christ
may be interpreted as a Cochise sanction to the sedentary-oriented
changes then infiltrating the Southwest. The assimilation of new cul­
tural forms did not come about abruptly but gradually, terminating in
the conversion of the San Pedro Cochise into Mogollon.
219
It is readily apparent, then, that a major change in the
strategy of subsistence took place during the Terminal San Pedro, trig­
gering a series of corresponding changes in other facets of the cul­
tural system, that culminated in the definition of a new cultural focus
called the Mogollon.
As a consequence of the transition, residential
patterns shifted from transient camps to permanent villages; architec­
tural features in the form of pithouses and storage facilities emerged;
religious or ceremonial formalization evolved, as the appearance of
lcivas in Mogollon 1 suggest (Wheat 1955: 56-58); and social organiza­
tion to accommodate the expanding population probably underwent
transformation also, as Martin proposed (Martin and Rinaldo 1950: 565566).
This series of adjustments that ensued in response to change
in one aspect of culture — the economic -- illustrates the close and
intimate relationship of all components of culture with one another.
In his discussion on culture, its supportative subsystems, and their
articulation with the external environment, Clarke (1968: 83-130) has
furnished a theoretical framework to describe the linkage existing
between cultural subsystems and between them and the sociocultural
system as a whole.
Change or innovation in one subsystem is reflected
by change in all subsystems.
The adoption of agriculture, an innova­
tive measure in the subsistence policy of the Cochise, had reverbera­
tions in other manifestations of their culture and brought about a new
cultural orientation and expression — the Mogollon.
To trace the
dynamics of this change on the apparatus of culture and its balanced
220
subsystems, the approach of Flannery in his use of systems theory shall
be invoked.
It is well known that animals adapt to their ecological niche
by changes in their physical constitution.
For example, heat regula­
tory mechanisms enable one species to thrive in an equatorial latitude
while another, with contrasting physical endowments, will manage quite
comfortably in an arctic tundra zone.
Man, however, adjusts to a
mosaic of environments not by physical reciprocations except, perhaps,
on a minor or isolated scale — Yahgan infants in Tierra del Fuego are
dipped into the icy waters of the sea shortly after birth, an indoctri­
nation few infants elsewhere could survive — but by cultural ingenuity.
Man uses his culture to compete with the rieors of his environment and
to extract from it those ingredients essential for survival.
Man is
a culturally oriented animal.
Culture constitutes man's extrasomatic means of adaptation
(cf. White 195>9: 3-16).
Being extrasomatic, it is not linked to modi­
fications in his physical structure as in the case of animals.
Man
utilizes the components of his culture to enable him to adapt to his
environment, to compensate for fluctuations within it, and to cope
successfully with the exigencies of life.
This adaptation is guided
by the integrating force of a sociocultural system that directs com­
ponent systems in the pursuit of their specialized goals and transmits
to all members of the society the cultural heritage expressed in values,
norms, and acceptable patterns of conduct.
As Clarke (1968: 83) viewed
it, "all cultural systems consist of learned modes of behavior and its
221
material manifestations, socially transmitted from one society or
individual to another."
A sociocultural system consolidates and co­
ordinates its component subsystems, the social, ideological, economic,
and material, into an integrated functional whole.
The social subsystem comprises relationships between individ­
uals; rank and status determinants; marriage and kinship regulations;
the social structure governing the society; and the rules of behavior
with its limits of tolerance.
The ideological subsystem embraces the
ideals and. values cherished by the society; the goals laudably pursued;
world views and the religious concepts formulated by the group and
embodied in a set of beliefs and enacted in a set of rituals, to in­
terpret and to justify the world about them.
The economic subsystem
surveys the biotic resources within range of the society; organises
these into a hierarchy of dietary staples, eliminating some potential
food products for cultural or relipious reasons; and directs the efforts
of the group as food collectors or food producers into aca.uiring cul­
turally acceptable foods. The material subsystem envisages the tech­
nology of the society utilizing and fashioning material resources into
a constellation of artifacts that reflect the activities being pursued
and the behavior patterns underlying them.
Of the four subsystems,
the material is undoubtedly the broadest since it encompasses the pro­
duction of all types of artifacts — utilitarian and decorative — and
the construction of architectural features as well (see Clarke 1968:
101-123).
222
The four subsystems operate in a network of interrelations with
one another and with the sociocultural system as a whole.
The sub­
systems may be viewed as extensions or ramifications of the sociocul­
tural system endorsed and sanctioned by the society itself.
The
sociocultural system promotes equilibrium and cohesion within each
subsystem, between the subsystems and between the sociocultural system
and the external environment. Since a sociocultural system and its
constituent subsystems must articulate with the external environment,
it is to this environment that attention shall be addressed now.
As a sociocultural system consists of a body of subsystems, so
also may the external environment be perceived as a system with ancil­
lary subsystems.
These include the social environment; the biotic
environmentj and the physical environment.
The social environment
isolates social interactions registered among societies in close or
distant relationship with one another and the amiabilities or hostili­
ties generated among them and the decree of mutual dependence or
symbiosis such relationships produce.
In sparsely settled areas with
optimal resources, concourse between groups may be on an equal level
and friendlyj in less affluent circumstances, aggravated perhaps by
overpopulation or sudden intrusion of one group into the territory of
another, enmity and competition may easily surface. The social en­
vironment could strongly influence the course or direction a society
embarks upon.
An example of hostility of many groups against one —
the kingdoms surrounding Lake Tcxcoco against the Astecs who were
banished to an island on the lake — may cause the afflicted group to
223
concentrate their energies toward goals not originally intended.
Being
subject to harrassment, the Aztecs in self defense organized themselves
into a mighty military machine that burst the bonds of their island and
subjugated their encircling foes one after the other, and then launched
into a tidal wave of conquest.
Hostility between groups becomes apparent in situations of
acculturation, where a materially subordinate society may accept an
innovation or series of changes from a more highly endowed dominant
society.
Where social systems are at an equivalent stage of material
and technological development, a simple exchange of ideas and items
may ensue.
In other cases, a dominant society may instigate change
in another, either forcibly through directed change or by persuasion
or example in non-directed change.
The gradual acceptance of innova­
tions by the San Pedro Cochise and their willing development into what
became the Mogollon indicates that their acculturation proceeded along
lines of non-directed change rather than enforced or directed.
The biotic subsystem catalogues the floral and faunal resources
open to economic exploitation by a social unit.
Where biotic re­
sources are less than abundant, as in the case of the Cochise, the
development of the social subsystem is unavoidably curtailed, and the
material or technological subsystem is also restricted in the degree
of its productive elaborations since artifact manufacturing is related
mainly to food procurement, with little effort being expended in the
fabrication of exotic or art objects.
Where biotic resources are
brought under more stringent control as in the case of food production,
22U
material refinement and enrichment may be anticipated.
Likewise the
ideological subsystem with its religious tones and world views may also
evince the degree of articulation between a social unit and its biotic
resources.
Highly stabilized societies with a broad base of domesti­
cates evolve more complex philosophical tenets and religious cere­
monials reinforced by temples, pyramids, a priestly hierarchy and the
like.
Finally the physical subsystem of the environment subsumes
climatic oscillations, especially rainfall and temperature clinesj
topographical indices such as mountain, desert, basin and range, etc;
and the geography and hydrology of rivers, lakes, springs vis-a-vis
topography and natural resources. The impact of the physical environ­
ment on cultural development has been adequately treated in preceding
chapters obviating any further observations here.
Clarke (1968: 83-8U, 12U) encapsulates the four internal sociocultural subsystems into a framework called "cultural morphology;" and
the external environment with, its component social, biotic and physical
subsystems to which they adapt, has been labeled "cultural ecology,"
Culture is dynamic and ongoing, not static or moribund.
Any
observation made of a culture, either ethnofrraohically or archaeologically, sees it in an apparently static state, but that view is
deceptive.
To explore the integrating mechanisms of a culture at one
point in time is equivalent to detaching one frame from a motion pic­
ture film and ignoring the sequence of frames that precede and follow
that one.
Action is lost by an examination of a single frame.
To
22$
detect change and the direction change is taking, it is incumbent that
a succession of frames or time intervals be reviewed. That is whyrepeated studies of the same village are so instructive, e.g., Redfield's studies at Chan Korn and his and Lewis's studies at Tepoztlan.
They never duplicate each other but reveal, instead, the dynamic shifts
in culture change perceived through the dimension of time.
Culture change may invest a society either by external dif­
fusion or internal invention.
A sociocultural system that strives to
maintain equilibrium within and among its component subsystems, reacts
to change or innovation in one of two ways.
It may reject the proposed
change in which case the society remains unaltered.
Or it may accept
the innovation, either diffused or invented, in one of four ways: (l)
by incorporation, in which the new element is incorporated into the
recipient culture as an additive and integrated with older cultural
forms; (2) by assimilation, in which the new element replaces older
forms; (3) by fusion, in which a new element unites with an older form
producing a third but different form from either of its constituents,
but having features derived from both; and (h) by isolation, in which
a new element is accepted but in no manner integrated or combined with
older cultural forms.
It remains aloof from other features of the
recipient culture.
When an innovation is accepted, its admission into the estab­
lished cultural patterns of the recipient culture is usually contingent
upon some modification being made to render it more compatible with
pre-existing cultural norms. Since culture is dynamic, it follows
226
that the constituent subsystems are beinp exposed to culture changes
frequently.
When a change is accepted, the delicate balance among
subsystems, temporarily dislocated by the innovation, is regained by
establishing new networks of adjustment among the subsystems themselves
and with the sociocultural system as a whole.
Innovations that activate culture change may originate in the
social, biotic, or physical subsystems of the external environment.
Culture change may also originate from the inventive creativity of
individuals in a social unit, independently of diffusion from abroad.
Such inventions may spring from the economic or material subsystems,
or from the social or ideological regimes.
Whether culture change
derives from diffusion or invention, it entails realignments in articu­
lation among subsystems and between them and the culture as a whole.
Such realignments or re-routinp of networks represent culture's en­
deavor to restore equilibrium among component parts and with the en­
vironmental system.
Even when culture changes are radical with new
sets of adaptation incorporated into the system upon dissolution of
the old, relics of the replaced or discarded system are frequently
retained and integrated into the new system in novel ways.
To affix a cause for culture change in prehistoric times and
specifically the transition from food collecting to sedentary agricul­
ture in Mesoamerica, Flannery (1968: 67-87) resorted to the use of a
systems approach that embodied a model of first and second cybernetics.
First cybernetics is concerned with the maintenance and preservation
of the status quo, by keeping the cultural system in a state of
227
constant equilibrium.
Second cybernetics involves culture change which
begins as a disruption or deviation in the equilibrium system of one
subsystem and by extension, through its network of interlacing rela­
tions, to other subsystems within the culture.
Chance in one subsystem
is amplified by inducing changes in the articulated subsystems.
There­
fore, the whole culture is affected by a change in one of its parts.
The deviation or change is magnified in the sense that it spreads to
other subsystems.
In first cybernetics devices that encourage sta­
bility (e.g., perennial exploitation of the same resources in the same
round of seasonality) counteract or prevent changes from taking place,
by cycling back into the system in a repetitive sort of way the same
cultural processes that had prevailed for centuries or millenia.
people keep doing the same thing in the same way all the time.
The
Under
such conditions of stability, where prospective changes are forestalled
(deviation counteracting processes) culture change rarely occurs.
The Chiricahua and San Pedro sites described in this report
illustrate the condition of near eouilibrium conveyed by first cyber­
netics.
Apart from clear-cut differences in projectile point typology,
the assemblage of one stage replicated fairly well that of the other,
especially when used for the same functional task.
Cultural equili­
brium, hallmark of first cybernetics, apparently prevailed in Chiri­
cahua and most of San Pedro times.
If all cultural systems operated
within the framework of first cybernetics, no culture change would
ensue and culture would remain sadly stagnant.
the case.
Happily, such is not
228
Second cybernetics, fortunately, does culminate in culture
change. The stimulus or deviation that initiates the process may be
deliberately fostered or it may be accidentally invoked. Flannery
(1968:
79) defined the stimulus as a "kick."
In any event the rever­
berations of change in the affected subsystem pulsate through the
articulatory network to related subsystems which respond by adopting
new sociocultural and environmental adaptations resulting in a change
in the cultural stance of the society.
The positive feedback that
precipitates change in the related subsystems and thus augments the
extent of change from one subsystem to all of them, also activates a
new working relationship among thern.
Thus the initiation of change in
one subsystem involves change in all of them due to their close inte­
gration.
For this reason the change or deviation is described as
deviation-amplifying.
The introgression of teosinte germplasm into Chapalote maize
was the accidental "kick" or stimulus that inaugurated change in the
subsistence economy from food collecting to food producing.
The
adoption of agriculture in turn favored the construction of at least
semi-permanent houses.
As corn became more entrenched as the basic
staple, larger social aggregates could muster in a community, leading
to modifications in the social structure to accommodate an expanding
population.
The emerging predominance of agriculture with its pro­
nounced dependence upon rainfall stimulated the development of ritual
as a means of securing the help of the gods for adequate rain and an
abundant harvest.
The material inventory became more enriched in
229
style and in quality with some new items appearing, as sedentary
agriculture took hold.
All the subsystems — economic, social,
ideological, and material -- felt the impact of the transition to food
production.
In conclusion, it is the position of this study that agricul­
ture did not diffuse randomly throughout the Southwest at the beginning
of the second millenium before Christ, but seems to have settled only
in isolated areas suited environmentally for its proDaeation.
Even
in those selected enclaves, corn exerted slight influence, it any at
all, on the nomadic collecting propensities of the Cochise. The
smallness of the plant belied its ultimate potential, and so, for over
1>500 years it was only one of many plant foods collected.
One cannot
say that the Cochise were indifferent or impervious to agriculture.
They resorted to it whenever possible, as at Bat Cave, although their
efforts may have been minimal, but for most of them, they could not
cultivate it even if they wished, due to the stringent requirement of
an ample water suoply.
It was only with effective teosinte intro-
gression toward the end of the San Pedro stage, with its mutagenic
effects culminating in a hybrid Tripsacoid race with longer cobs,
larger kernels, and droueht resistant qualities, enabling it to be
successfully transplanted and cultivated in marpinal ecozones at lower
elevations, that agriculture can be said to have realistically per­
meated and diffused throughout the Southwest.
than five centuries before the time of Christ.
This took place less
Concomitant with the
introduction of a hybrid Tripsacoid maize was the appearance of houses
230
with interior storage pits; the arrival of ceramics, so useful for
secure storage of grain and for cooking; and of paramount importance,
the profoundly impressive example of the Hohokam, who migrated into
the Southwest at that same time — about 300 B.C. — fully endowed and
equipped with the engineering skill to construct irrigation canals as
a measure of hydraulic control, and subsisting in sedentary villages
upon the products of agricultural domestication, in an environment
identical to that confronting the Cochise. The concourse of these
factors within the same general time interval catalyzed and propelled
the perambulatory Cochise society into the more elaborate and seden­
tary Mogollon. With the acceptance and under the impact of those
innovations, the Cochise Culture came to a close.
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WARREN, CLAUDE N. and ANTHONY J. RANERE
1968
Outside Danger Cave: A View of Early Man in the Great
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Anthropology, Vol. 1, No. U, pp. 6-I0. Portales.
WARREN, CLAUDE N. and D. L. TRUE
1961
The San Dieguito Complex and its Place in California Pre­
history. Archaeological Survey Annual Renort 1960-1961,
pp. 2h6-33^n University of California, Los Angeles.
WEBB, WILLIAM S. and RAYMOND S. BABY
1957
The Adena People, No. 2.
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WEDEL, WALDO R.
196I4.
The Great Plains. In Prehistoric Man in the New World,
edited by Jesse D. Jennings and Edward Norbeck, pp. 193220. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
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1951
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1955
Mogollon Culture Prior to A.D. 1000. Memoir Mo. 82 American
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WHITE, LESLIE A.
1959 The Evolution of Culture. McGraw-Hill Book Co., Inc., New
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WIUISEN, EDWIN N.
1968
Functional Analysis of Flaked Stone Artifacts. American
Antiquity, Vol. 33, No. 2, pp. l£6-l6l. Salt Lake City.
1970
Lithic Analysis and Cultural Inference: A Paleo-Indian
Case. Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona
No. 16. Tucson.
WINDMILLER, RIC
1970
Archaeological Salvage Excavations of Mammoth Remains and
a Cochise Culture Site near Double Adobe, Southeastern
Arizona. A Preliminary Report, Arizona State Museum, Tucson.
WISSLER, CLARK
1920
North American Indians of the Plains. American Museum of
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WOHMINGTON, H. M.
1957
Ancient Man in North America.
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Denver Museum of Natural
ENS
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81*82
San Juan
Wo'
iENSOl
43
49
ST DAVID
81• 82
San Juan
Figure 9
Map of
Central
San Pedro Valley
LEGEND
°.'
Sites Discovered on Survey
© Sites Reported
©
Springs and Wells
•
Towns and Settlements
I
0
I
1
I
2 MILES
43 «
30
Conory
©Well
McGrew Spring * <»ntf
Lone Star
Corner Tanks
Franc
French ioe
ff
Canyon
Wo i h
85»86-Sc79
Son Juan
WO*
68
Black Well
Woili
47
.Corner Tanks
56
64
WHALEN - OlS:
Ouiburi
^Mitiior
WHALEN* DISSERTATION* ANTHROPOLOGY • 1971
V
B
B
B
SS
E
T
J R
E
E
s
o
ss
E
T
J R
E
E
J S
K
A
E A
K
M
TO
E
T
H
LT
O
T
E
E
O
O
EE
00
00
LT
0
EE
OA
OO
O
DO
DO
O
O
N
E
T
T
FIGURE
12
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE
O
T
o
O
LEGEND
12
r DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 39
A
J
Blade
G
Chopper
M
Drill or Perforat
N
Graver
H
S
Knife
Mano
K
Metate
T
Notch
Y
Plane
R
Preform
E
Projectile Point
P
Disc Scraper
L
End Scraper
Burin
o
o
LEGEND
A
J
Blade
G
Chopper
M
Drill or Perforator
N
Graver
H
S
Knife
Mano
K
Metate
T
Notch
Y
Plane
R
Preform
E
Projectile Point
P
i
Disc Scraper
Burin
C m/I
FIGURE
12
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE
\
E
12
LEGEND
A
J
Blade
G
Chopper
M
Drill or Perfor.'
N
Graver
H
S
Knife
Mano
K
Metate
T
Notch
Y
Plane
R
Preform
E
Projectile Poii
P
Disc Scraper
L
End Scraper
0
Side Scraper
B
Hearth
CT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 39
i
.
Burin
0
Scale
i
1
i
2
1" - 2 M.
i
3
LEGEND
Blade
A
J
Burin
G
Chopper
M
Drill or Perforator
N
Graver
H
S
Knife
K
Metate
T
Notch
Y
Plane
R
Preform
E
Projectile Point
P
Disc Scraper
L
End Scraper
0
Side Scraper
B
Hearth
Mano
I
.0
Scale
1
2
3
4 M.
1 - 2 M.
\
WHALEN • DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY* 1971
EO
OE
E
OE
N
O
K
NORTH WEST
R
E 0
E
E
o
L
14
M
O
E
e
H
M
E
L
N
J E
MM
M
M
R
E
1
E
E E
T
EE
G
E
E
E
1
11
1
E
EE
E
E
L
1
I
I
|i
EI E
1
1
1
I1
1
E
R
E
0
E
0
E
E
A
E
M
L
0
J E
E
J
L
E
K
E
0
°N
iI
NOR"
E
E
A
I
II
I
L
0
E
J
m
G
L
WEST CENTER
G
E
e
E
- 1—
0
M
IVI
E
I
I
L
O
E
Y
0
E
o
o
E
EL
F
jr
il
E
N
N
R
1
i
1
N
E
J
1
E
0
R
E
O
1
1
I
E
N
0
NORTH CENTER
{
1
1
1
1
E
T
00
1
1
m
EE
M
1
1
1
1
1
1
OE
L
1
*E
O
1
1 E 0
M
0
E
-
T
.
1
1
1
I
1
i
I
A
J
N
R
E
E
O
B
NORTH EAST]
E
O
V
R
M
E
J
G
ICENTRAL CENTER
O
E
B
T
E
0
R
E
M
E
T
E
I
1
0
0
1
1 J U
1
t
J
1
N
0
E
1
A
L
J
]
0
E
E
E
Y T
0
G
E
EAST CENTER
E
E
A
G
E 0
E
i
N
E
G
Y T
O
A
E
E
n
G
E O
M
A
P
E
M
R
T
FIGURE 13
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 45
For Legend See Figure 12
M
E
M
U
WEST CENTER
M
O
OE
A
E
TA
E
B
O
E
B
R
O
OO
T
E E
A
f "
B
SOUTH WEST
E
A
M
E
E
u
E
G
L
ICENTRAL CENTER|
G
E
TA
E
O
E
E
O
T
E E
EE
E
E
°
E
A
A
H
O
B
E
M
B
M
E
N
EE
O
OO
J
A
A
E
E
B
O
H
M
A
A
Y
A.
E
N
O
A
SOUTH EAST
N
H
A
B
E
O
A
A
E
w
i
EAST CENTER
CENTER
E
A
H
B
M
M
E
E
A
J
N
AE
H
M
A
A
N
H
E
NTER
G
E O
M
A
E
M
E
M
WHAIEN* DISSERTATION- ANTHROPOLOGY-1971
>
o
J3
m
m
>
m
r- >
>
I
3J O
I>
A
H
A
L
H
O
R
H
O
NORTH WEST
EE
R
E
T
O
O
H
NORTH EAST
N
O
R
E
T
A
[
I
o
E
FIGURE 14
ARTIFACT
DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 46
For Legend See Figure
12
R
o
T
O
R
E
O
A
O
T
H
N
L
T
A
R
•N ON SITE 46
12
RR
R
A
E
T
A
o
E
O
o
O
T
N
N
L
T
A
N
SOUTH
OT
H
H
R
A
R
oo
WHAIEN • DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY • 1971
E
%
A
FIGURE 15
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 52
For Legend
See Figure
12
R
TRIBUTION ON SITE 52
ee Figure
12
R
E
N
N
WHAIEN - DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY• 1971
CO <
CO
CO O
CO
CO
CO
I
r
S
A
41 METERS
s
s
N
S
41 METERS
FIGURE 16
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 58
N
S
H
E
S
O
s
R
SITE 58
S
s
s
s
R
O
s
s
S
H
O
FIGURE 16
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 58
For Legend See Figure 12
o
H
E
S
O
s
R
M SITE 58
O
WHAIEN • DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY • 1971
B
B
H
L
O
A
O
H
EE
H
L
O
H
f
20
METERS
s
s
G
FIGURE 17
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON
For Legend See Figure 12
SITE 65
METERS
EE
E
E
O
EE
s
T
FIGURE 17
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON
For Legend See Figure 12
SITE 65
s
s
65
EE
WHALEN • DISSERTATION* ANTHROPOLOGY •
f
ss
ss
NORTH
R
S
H
B
;
E
H
E
B
A A
EE
EE
O
ss
NORTH
B
B
T
N
AA
A A
N
SOUTH
EE
EE
A A
O
A
OUTH
R
FIGURE 18
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 66
For Legend See Figure 12
R
A
UTION ON SITE 66
lure 12
R
A
f
"
WHALEN- DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY • 1971
E
A
E
N
A
E
0
FIGURE
ARTIFACT
19
DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 70
For Legend See Figure 12
SITE 70
FIGURE
ARTIFACT
19
DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 70
For Legend See Figure 12
SITE 70
WHAIEIM-DISSERTATION* ANTHROPOLOGY*1971
B
B
E
T
I
o
s
O
B
75 METERS
O
75 METERS
O
i
L
O
R
E
E
FIGURE 20
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION
For Legend See Figure
FIGURE 20
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 77
For Legend See Figure
12
WHAIEN • DISSERTATION •ANTHROPOLOGY'1971
N
E
E
E E
A
N
B
E
A
E
A
EE
I
1
I EAST I
E
A
E E
E
B
FIGURE 21
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON SITE
For Legend See Figure 12
A
EE
E E
WEST
B
E
L
O
E
O
E
O
E
21
DISTRIBUTION ON SITE 88
See Figure 12
E
A
CENTRAL
H
E
E
T
EAST
WHAIEN' DISSERTATION •ANTHROPOlOGY»197l*
H
E
T
R T
E
«
o
G
L
E
E
O
L
T
N
O
L
L
L
T
N
O
FIGURE 22
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION ON !
For
Legend See Figure 12
E
O
E
Y
JTION ON SITE 89
> Figure 12
r
L
A
WHALEN*
WHALEN • DISSERTATION • ANTHROPOLOGY *19)
H
R
E
H
FIGURE 23
ARTIFACT DISTRIBUTION
For Legend See
ON
Figure 12
E
O
O
JUTION
ON SITE 90
i Figure 12
L
H
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