Many of my readers know that the wheels
of academic writing and publishing grind slowly, but they can grind
exceedingly fine. I began work on my book on the U.S. Indian
factories, “Engines of Diplomacy” (now under contract with
University of North Carolina Press) in the spring of 2004, and am
just now completing one of the last (I hope) sets of revisions to the
manuscript. One advantage of such a long period of research, writing,
and revision is that an author can replace earlier, shallower
analyses with much more mature insights before the book goes to
press.
To take one example that has just come
to hand: in a section on the trading factory at Chickasaw Bluffs
(modern Memphis), I decided to use the post's price records
to estimate the approximate compensation of an
early-nineteenth-century Chickasaw hunter, measured in dollars and in
merchandise. I determined that a skilled hunter could make
between $25 and $50 per season if he caught between 50 and 100 deer,
a realistic estimate according to Kathryn Braund's Deerskins and
Duffels (Nebraska, 1993). Perhaps he might make a bit more if he
also caught smaller animals like raccoons, whose furs made good hats.
I then calculated what this could buy at C.B. Factory: 25-50 pounds
of gunpowder (with about 10 shots per pound), 50-100 yards (a few
bolts) of muslin or calico cloth, 50-100 tin quart cups, or a couple
of hundred small broaches.
This seemed impressive to me when I
first wrote this particular chapter in 2005, but I realize now that
these were the entire returns of 3-4 months' labor for a hunter and
additional work by his female relatives – Indian women accompanied
hunting parties to feed their kinsmen and dress their furs and skins.
To put it another way, Chickasaws earned no more than half a dollar a
day from the federal trading factory for their labor as hunters and
skin processors. And factory merchandise prices, while lower than
those offered by private competitors, still equaled 150 percent or more of
the prices charged by vendors in Philadelphia, which reduced hunters' wages still further. Small wonder that
Chickasaws, like Indians elsewhere in North America, racked up large
trading debts. My acknowledgment of the inequities of Indians'
compensation, which derived from recent years' reflection on economic
inequality in modern America (courtesy of David Graeber and Occupy),
allowed me to replace this vague and spineless phrase from my
original draft:
“As was commonly the case in the fur
trade, the Chickasaws' demand for goods outstripped their ability to
pay for merchandise in kind”
with what I consider a more nuanced,
and accurate one:
“As returns from hunters' labor
remained low, the Chickasaws' demand for trade goods outstripped
their ability to pay”
and then discuss that nation's rising
debts to both the federal factory and private traders. In my first
draft of this chapter I assumed Chickasaws' indebtedness just sort of
happened, and implied that their own profligacy may have been to
blame. Now I see that it came from the systematic underpayment of
workers in an extractive industry. Granted, other scholars, like
Claudio Saunt, made this point over a decade ago, but sometimes it
takes a little thought and a little engagement with the real world to
catch up with better minds.
(Above images, of an unshaved deerskin and HBC-style point blankets, are from Wikimedia Commons, the latter courtesy of the Museum of the Fur Trade in Chadron, NE.)
(Above images, of an unshaved deerskin and HBC-style point blankets, are from Wikimedia Commons, the latter courtesy of the Museum of the Fur Trade in Chadron, NE.)