I woke early last Friday morning to head South into Douglas County with our Environmental Theory Class. Our field trip was to span two days, and include opportunities for research and exploration in Douglas County. Our goal was to “get on the ground” and dig into Douglas County in search of “data(?),” information, or insight to inform our praxis projects. We also had the opportunity to explore the Alder Creek Community Forest and to hike Tellurium peak overlooking the Alder Creek catchment basin.
My principle concern was to learn as much as I could about the old O&C Railroad’s Dillard Depot building on display at the Douglas County museum. I doubt that if one were taught about the Dillard Depot he or she would care much to explore the buildings history further. That is, if one were lectured on the historical importance of the old building one might take that information as perhaps the most accurate representation of the historical reality of the Depot as possible, and wouldn’t bother digging through the Douglas County Museum archives in search of more information. Maybe that’s because he or she would trust the lecturer as a superior epistemic authority in terms of Depot history (and that said authority’s explanation of the Depot was fully fleshed out and accurate), or wouldn’t find such an old vernacular building to hold much of interest in the first place. To be frank, the old depot seems to be mostly a novelty, a museum acquisition for the sake of preserving something important because it’s old and is the last of it’s kind. I imagine that to some, visiting the Depot would be like taking a trip into the future to see a museum exhibit of the last remaining gas stations. Doesn’t sound so thrilling does it? Yet it turns out that in teaching myself about the Depot, I’ve been able to discover aspects and layers of the objects life story that I find immensely interesting and which aren’t represented in the museum’s exhibit at all.
My exploration began in the Depot itself. Before reading the information panels on the walls I merely sat on the bench in the front room to have a look around. One thing I noticed was that the floor boards in the front room were very different from the floor boards in the larger back room, and the walls were finished in very different ways. The larger back room had painted walls, and large, roughly hewn floor boards; while the front room was enclosed by painted drywall complete with wooden moulding, and the wooden floor boards were precisely cut and joined. This series of observations led me to try and imagine how these two different rooms were used, and why they were finished differently. I imagined the back room as the freight room, a more utilitarian room where cargo was stored, shipped, and received. My mind then filled the front room with passengers wearing their best traveling outfits. Perhaps there was a desk in this room where the station manager sold tickets and greeted new arrivals. Admittedly my mind set about this reconstruction of Depot life by drawing on things I have learned (read: was taught) and observed (read: learned for myself). The trick is finding empirical evidence in order to form a less-biased, more nuanced and developed (could one say full or well-rounded?) understanding of the Depot as an object, and as a place (and more? if so, what else?).
My headfirst dive into the archives turned out to be a fun and rewarding experience. I mostly found information concerning the acquisition of the building from Roseburg Forest Products, but was also delighted to find recent architectural plans and articles concerning the history of the structure. Most of the information that intrigued me came in the form of letters written to the museum director from folks who knew a thing or two about the old depot. By amalgamating the accounts from the various individuals I was able to construct a more explicit and specific understanding of the Dillard Depot itself, not of the general O&C Depot.
What I found most interesting was the recurring depiction of the depot as a community center where news came via telegraph (the first in the area!) and people hung out there to greet passing trains, gossip, learn about the wider world, accept shipments, etc. etc. etc. The historical accounts of life in Dillard seem to depict the Depot as not only a very important nexus of transportation, technology and commerce, but also as a lively community hub!
But this specific understanding of the Dillard Depot is not represented/present in the Depot exhibit. The museum uses the depot to talk about the O&C railroad, and the impacts of the railway in Southern Oregon in general, but not about life in Dillard during the late 19th century.
The Dillard Depot most likely attracted a wide range of people, and influenced the many facets of life in early Dillard, Oregon. However, there is one group I’d like to have a more detailed representation of, in regards to their interaction/perception of the Dillard Depot, and that’s the indigenous community. The only reference I found regarding native populations was an explanation of the site prior to the Depot’s construction, when the land was under the tenure of a one John Dillard. The letter describes the construction of Dillard’s home, citing thick earthen walls and tin plated doors, both built to provide ballistic insulation from gunshots fired specifically by indigenous persons. This account highlights and interesting hostility between native populations and the settler community in Dillard, and leaves me wondering how native communities perceived the Depot. Maybe the image of the Depot and the train evoked impending conflict, further engendering violence in the area, or perhaps the Depot could have functioned as a hub for trade and knowledge/information sharing.
In conclusion, this experience has been a lesson in learning. I’d like to consider it an exercise in living in the world/”seeing through the eyes” of Bruno Latour noting that nothing is merely what it is, but is so much more and might not represent or be just what it seems (to be/represent). Please see this page for my inspiration to “see the world” the way Bruno might.
Thanks.