All those who wander are not lost.

Tag: fieldwork

The Silver Standard

It was good to get back into the field today, after having been crippled (almost quite literally) by the lack of a vehicle for over two weeks.

For those who haven’t heard, my old black truck chewed through its second clutch — I actually had the first inkling when returning from Rayne one day, but the old truck did us the favor of dying in the driveway. Our mechanic towed it to his shop and a few days later we learned it was going to cost roughly half what the truck was worth to repair it. ($850 for those who have to know.)

For a while now, Yung has not been happy with the reliability of the truck when I took it out for fieldwork. I thought nothing of it, but she has some sixth sense about certain things (and people) that has for a time now made her unhappy about the truck’s advanced years. It was eleven years old last year, and we’ve owned it for nine. It was a good truck, though I was never crazy about it and it never had enough room in its cab. (I tried a truck box for a while, but I foolishly bought a plastic one which never sealed tight against the rain, and in Louisiana that pretty much makes any kind of box next to useless.)

So, we decided it was time to get a new truck. I briefly thought about trading down to a car, but Yung wanted to keep a truck in the family because we do haul things on a regular basis. And I realized that the kinds of roads I drive on would simply tear the bottom out of most cars, especially the small ones I was looking at.

I had long had my eye on Toyota’s Tacoma line of trucks — and had long wished that that was what we had bought instead of the Isuzu-made-in-Chevy-plant Hombre. So on the freakishly cold weekend after the Isuzu had died, we found ourselves in the Lafayette Toyota dealer’s lot, looking at new Tacomas. (I had spent some time pricing used Tacomas and had discovered that they weren’t any cheaper and sometimes they were more expensive than new — trust me, this didn’t make any sense to me either.) I had imagined that our willingness to spend money would stop at an extended cab version. Yung took one look at how little room there was back there for Lily and said, “Forget it. Let’s just get the double cab.”

And that’s what we did — though I should note that we did not buy from the Lafayette dealer but from Courvelle Toyota up in Opelousas and we could not be happier with how we were treated.

The result is the first vehicle since my 1986 Isuzu Trooper that I think I really love:

Laudun-2009-4679

“Sweet Silver”

Water Leveling

I spent the day with Dwayne Gossen, a rice farmer whose family has long, and as it turns out wide, roots in Roberts Cove. Gossen is, on the one hand, quite typical of so many of the farmers I have met working on this book: he is a gentle man, quiet to the point of seeming shy, but a font of warmth and hospitality when asked an honest question. So many of these men are like this: it makes me wish that everyone took a turn at farming — perhaps rice farming in particular — so that more people would have a similar disposition.

Most of my time was spent with him in the cab of his Case-IH 385 tractor, a giant 8-wheel-drive machine that could pull the twenty-foot-wide blade of a water leveler through some fields almost at an idle. While the work would seem effortless standing by the side of a field, inside the cab Gossen spent much of his time turned around in his seat, his neck craned to check how much mud he was pulling in the blade, how well the tire ruts were filling as he worked the soil.

Water Leveling in Louisiana

The view out the back of the cab as we make a turn.

Gossen was a patient teacher, explaining the intricacies of water leveling, much of which requires the ability to “see” beneath the surface of muddy water. At one point I finally exclaimed to him, “Dwayne, you are describing an intricate topography of hills and holes, of overpulling and underpulling, but all I see is muddy water.” Characteristically, Gossen smiled, laughed, and shook his head. How could a university professor not understand what was so obvious to him?

The Field Is in Session

It was a nice day to be “in the field,” which is an odd but apt phrase when you write it down and look at it. A bit cool in the morning, but warm in the sun, with a constant breeze that sometimes swept the warmth away. Brandon Barker joined me today, wanting a chance to give his new DSLR a test run. I think I was supposed to help with some detailed instruction on settings, but I confess I forgot as the day wore on and simply enjoyed the niceness of the day, visiting with some of the folks I’ve come to know, and showing Brandon a few bits of the Louisiana landscape.

We headed straight out to the Olinger Repair Shop, packed a bit more tightly in the truck than I would like. The cab of the Isuzu is perfect for me, my gear, and the usual extras I pack “just in case” (dry socks, rubber boots, towel), but two people both with, albeit small, gear bags are crowded. Perhaps it is time to upgrade the truck.

We arrived at the shop just as a tractor truck stopped in front of the shop. It was pulling a flatbed trailer with a large piece of agricultural gear on the back. It turned out that the piece of equipment was a roller-packer and that it’s new owner was Chip Link, who had bought it sight unseen, but from a reputable dealer, in Tennessee. Link had no way to get the packer off the trailer at his farm, so he had instructed the driver to drop off the packer at the Olinger shop. Link consulted with Gerard and Dale, and they then instructed the driver to pull into a clearing on the far side of the shop — it’s the same spot where Dale’s combine now rests and where I’ve helped power wash PTO ditchers.

Gerard and Dale got on either side of the flatbed trailer with forklifts and carefully raised the packer up. Once it was clear, I was given the job of telling the driver to pull forward, pulling the trailer out from under the raised gear, which was then lowered to the ground. Brandon photographed the whole affair:

Rayne Fieldwork 2-6 022

Afterwards, Chip Link stayed to inspect his “new” piece of equipment and to begin the necessary work of refitting it for use in the coming season. I headed indoors to visit some with Gerard and Dale and to let Brandon have a chance to see what the inside of a working metal shop looks like. I regret I did not give him more of a tour, but he seemed readily at ease and wandered away to try out his camera.

In the mean time, Dwayne Gossen stopped by, looking for a small part that would allow him to test the lines of a pump he was working on. I introduced Brandon to Dwayne, and for the first time I saw Dwayne relax a bit and tell a few stories. It was nice to see.

At some point I gave Brandon the task of documenting one of the many crawfish boats sitting out in front of the shop. I showed him the compass method I use myself and gave him suggestions not only on detail shots that might be worth his while but also on using a tape measure to document the size of an object as well as the advisability of shooting a few “art” shots along the way. With only a few words, he borrowed my tape measure and settled into the task. I am curious to see what his results were.

After lunch with Gerard at Frog City, I thought I would drive Brandon around a bit to see if we couldn’t find a boat in action. No such luck, but we did find this boat along Hwy 365 just east of Richard:

Laudun-IMG_4519

The drive unit looks like something by Mike Richard, but the motor is on the left side, not the right. It’s a Honda engine, which is something he would use and the nose of the boat and the external wheels are both Richard elements. But the drive unit is mounted to the hull with something that looks more like one of Kurt Venable’s pods and the bearing that allows the drive unit to float up and down looks like the kind that Gerard Olinger makes. The boat is both an enigma and … as I noted in my Facebook post, folklore gold.

Interview Tips

Collected below are a series of notes and/or prompts to asking better questions while doing documentary/ethnographic research. It assumes the interviewer has at least a notepad in hand as basic recording technology.

An interview is not a dialogue. The whole point of the interview is to get the narrator to tell her story. Limit your own remarks to a few pleasantries to break the ice, then brief questions to guide her along. It is not necessary to give her the details of your great-grandmother’s life growing up in Abbeville in order to get her to tell you about her grandfather’s trip to Texas. Just say, “I understand your grandfather went to Texas during the oil boom. What did he tell you about his time there?”

Ask questions that require more of an answer than “yes” or “no.” Start with “why,” “how,” “where,” “what kind of. . .” instead of “Was Henry Miller a good boss?” ask “What did the drilling crew say about Henry Miller?”

Ask one question at a time. Sometimes interviewers ask a series of questions all at once. Probably the narrator will answer only the first or last one. You will catch this kind of questioning when you listen through the tape after the session, and you can avoid it the next time.

Ask brief questions. We all know the irrepressible speech-maker who, when questions are called for at the end of a lecture, gets up and asks five- minute questions. It is unlikely that the narrator is so dull that it takes more than a sentence or two for her to understand the question.

Start with questions that are not controversial; save the delicate questions, if there are any, until you have become better acquainted. A good place to begin is with the narrator’s youth and background.

Don’t let periods of silence fluster you. Give your narrator a chance to think of what she wants to add before you hustle her along with the next question. Relax, write a few words on your notepad. The sure sign of a beginning interviewer is a tape where every brief pause signals the next question

Don’t worry if your questions are not as beautifully phrased as you would like them to be for posterity. A few fumbled questions will help put your narrator at ease as she realizes that you are not perfect and she need not worry if she isn’t either. It is not necessary to practice fumbling a few questions; most of us are nervous enough to do that naturally.

Don’t interrupt a good story because you have thought of a question, or because your narrator is straying from the planned outline. If the information is pertinent, let her go on, but jot down your questions on your notepad so you will remember to ask it later.

If your narrator does stray into subjects that are not pertinent (the most common problems are to follow some family member’s children or to get into a series of family medical problems), try to pull her back as quickly as possible. “Before we move on, I’d like to find out how the closing of the mine in 1935 affected your family’s finances. Do you remember that?”

It is often hard for a narrator to describe people. An easy way to begin is to ask her to describe the person’s appearance. From there, the narrator is more likely to move into character description.

Try to establish at every important point in the story where the narrator was or what her role was in this event, in order to indicate how much is eye-witness information and how much based on reports of others. “Where were you at the time of the mine disaster?” “Did you talk to any of the survivors later?” Work around these questions carefully, so that you will not appear to be doubting the accuracy of the narrator’s account.

Do not challenge accounts you think might be inaccurate. Instead, try to develop as much information as possible that can be used by later researchers in establishing what probably happened. Your narrator may be telling you quite accurately what she saw. As Walter Lord explained when describing his interviews with survivors of the Titanic, “Every lady I interviewed had left the sinking ship in the last lifeboat. As I later found out from studying the placement of the lifeboats, no group of lifeboats was in view of another and each lady probably was in the last lifeboat she could see leaving the ship.”

Try to avoid “off the record” information–the times when your narrator asks you to turn off the recorder while she tells you a good story. Ask her to let you record the whole things and promise that you will erase that portion if she asks you to after further consideration. You may have to erase it later, or she may not tell you the story at all, but once you allow “off the record” stories, she may continue with more and more, and you will end up with almost no recorded interview at all. “Off the record” information is only useful if you yourself are researching a subject and this is the only way you can get the information. It has no value if your purpose is to collect information for later use by other researchers.

Don’t switch the recorder off and on. It is much better to waste a little tape on irrelevant material than to call attention to the tape recorder by a constant on-off operation. Of course you can turn off the recorder if the telephone rings or if someone interrupts your session.

Interviews, for beginning interviewers, usually work out better if there is no one present except the narrator and the interviewer. Sometimes two or more narrators can be successfully recorded, but usually each one of them would have been better alone.

End the interview at a reasonable time. An hour and a half is probably the maximum. First, you must protect your narrator against over-fatigue; second, you will be tired even if she isn’t. Some narrators tell you very frankly if they are tired, or their spouses will. Otherwise, you must plead fatigue, another appointment, or no more tape.

Don’t use the interview to show off your knowledge, vocabulary, charm, or other abilities. Good interviewers do not shine; only their interviews do.

The Expense of Field Research

This has been a great week. Two exceptional interviews with two exceptional individuals. On the way back from one of those interviews today, I got on I-10 in Crowley and realized I would probably be a little short for gas for the entire trip back to Lafayette.

So I popped off at Rayne to fill up. The signs announcing $4 a gallon didn’t really make an impression, but the $50 readout on the pump did. Whoa. Suddenly the fact that I am a field researcher became a clear expense. The difference between me and my fellow humanists is not only do they never need to leave their campus offices or their home studies but they don’t have to pump $50 worth of additional gas into their cars or trucks once, or sometimes twice, a week.

And, while I’m thinking about it, that doesn’t include money spent on batteries, hard drives, tapes, and other supplies let alone the money spent on equipment itself: camera, recorder, microphone. Why, why do this? Wouldn’t it be easier to work with existing data, with existing texts? Yes, yes it would. But I think it’s part of my job as a folklorist to add to the archeological record, to bring more people into history, to make data. If that means my job moves more slowly, so be it. But it really would be nice if somehow one got credit for such work. If Project Bamboo’s efforts could somehow lead to my colleagues occasionally recognizing that, it would have done at least this particular field researcher an immense favor.

Fieldwork

Verot School Road

--> Guillot Road

    --> Piat Road

Things Seen:

  • Coops for fighting roosters.
  • Vietnamese restaurant off Melancon Road just inside Iberia Parish line.
  • All the gear associated with rice agriculture –> How would I organize such a catalog?
  • Gas stations, diners, lunch houses: all places where work happens.

Mardi Gras trailers.

© John Laudun