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History—October 2006
From Estate Sale to Ebay: The wanderings of a piece of Aleut history
Text and Photos by Jeff Dickrell
For those of us who routinely troll eBay for rare and elusive treasure, Sunday nights seem to be the best time for checking for new items. As a historian living in the Aleutian Islands, I’ve used eBay as a vital source for books, photos and maps. Many of the things I’ve found on eBay, I bought for a steal from some unknowing seller. Like every eBayer, I dream of finding some ultra-rare item listed by someone who has no idea of its value.
I have had some luck with some undervalued finds: a 1788 map of the North Pacific for $29, an out-of-print book translated from Russian going for $100 on booksellers’ sites bought for $9, a rare WWII book for $5 (“Dude, you’re way too excited about this book,” the seller wrote me) and my favorite, a 1780s engraving of Captain Cook in the Aleutians for $19. These retail for $300. The seller wrote me asking, “Do you know how much this is worth?” “Yes,” was my one-word reply.
After years of scanning the hundreds of Aleutian Island–related items each Sunday night, I thought I had seen it all and bought most of it. Ogarook the Aleut—got it; The Whalers of Akutan—got it (for $30—it retails for $200 plus); WWII patches—got ’em all, doubles of most; 1869 Chart of Unalaska Bay (the first by the U.S. government)—I don’t even look at it unless it’s hand colored. You get the picture. My apartment looks like a museum of Aleutian material.
Then one Sunday in December 2005, I was knocked for a loop. The item title was “Hand-carved Aleut object.” That got my attention, although such listings usually amount to low-grade stone flakes some fisherman picked up and was passing off as arrowheads. The photo was small and unclear, so I opened the file. I sucked in a quick breath and held it. If this was real, it was big. Really big.
It was clear from the description that the seller was clueless as to its importance. The starting bid of $7 proved he didn’t know what he had. “This could be part of a sled or mask,” he guessed. It was wood and finely worked, the two main pieces lashed together. The pictures had it upside down. My eBay dream had come true.
It was the bow piece from an Aleut baidarka. For kayak historians and designers, nothing is as mystical as a true Aleut iqyax, as the baidarka is called in their language. These were the boats in which Aleuts met the first Russian explorers, and from which they fought the early Russian fur traders. In these boats, Aleut men routinely made epic trips that today require huge funding and months of planning. Fleets of hundreds of baidarkas paddled along the coast of Alaska nearly exterminating the sea -otter.
I had stumbled on a piece of history. Of course, the question of validity leapt to the forefront. Three scenarios could end the excitement early: First, if the bow piece came from a burial cave, where hunters were often entombed with their boats; second, if it was a stolen artifact; or third, if it was a leftover from a recent baidarka building class so popular in the Pacific Northwest. So where did it come from?
The seller said that 20 years ago, he had arrived late at the estate sale of anthropologist Ted Banks and was only able to acquire a few books and two unidentified artifacts. He had recently decided to sell the two artifacts, the bow and a bailer for a baidarka, though he didn’t know what they were.
Ted Banks was a (in)famous anthropologist in the Indiana Jones genre. Stationed here in the Aleutians in WWII, he returned to the islands in 1948 as part of a two-man expedition to collect plants, rocks and any artifacts he could get his hands on. This began a 40-year career of less-than-scientific archaeology and exploration. One famous incident, which he writes about in one of his many books, was his discovery of a burial cave. He reached into the small opening, feeling a mummy covered in an exquisite woven grass mat (Aleuts are considered to be the best weavers in the world). He yanked on it and tore a piece off. His expeditions sometimes consisted of dropping graduate students off on remote beaches saying, “Explore” as he motored away. Most of his collections are now housed in the Museum of the Aleutians.
If Banks had grabbed this bow piece out of a burial cave, by federal law, it would have to be returned. In fact, if it had been taken from the local people by any less-than-ethical method, it should be repatriated.
I threw out a bid of $15 and began a short investigation of Bank’s history, searching for a reference to the piece. At the University of Alaska library in Anchorage, where all of Bank’s papers are stored, there was nothing about collecting a bow piece from a cave or anywhere else for that matter. Several calls and emails to archaeologists and historians turned up no mention of the object. Things were looking up. I raised my bid to $75 just to keep in the game. You can set a bid limit on eBay to automatically increase to your maximum.


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