The British Museum was opened in 1759 on Great Russell
Street in London England. The public
has been welcome to visit for free ever since. And each year almost 7 million people do so.
When you walk into the Great Court – waiting for the exhibit
halls to open, there is a sense of greatness, of magnitude of grandeur. And you are teased by, among other
treats, two Egyptian Pharaoh heads from 1400 BC.
And when the doors open to the North, you walk up to what is
likely a familiar site to anyone with a passing interest in history – an enormous
and authentic statue from Easter Island.
Sitting in an exhibit hall, thousands of miles from its home off the
Chilean coast of South America.
I spent an entire day at this wonderland in the fall of
2015. I would have gone back again
the next day if I didn’t have to fly the long hours across the Atlantic to get
home.
But one thought nagged me from the first hour I saw the
incredible and priceless artifacts from across the globe and through eons of
history - - “What a bunch of damn thieves!”
There are murals from caves in China, mummies from the Gobi
desert, the actual facings of the ancient Greek Parthenon, gold from the
Romans, paintings from Van Gogh, even totem poles from North America. If the British explorers could hoist it
into a ship –they stole it and put it on display.
But this isn’t about the British. Or even the museum and its priceless treasures. This is about a small man, continually
sporting a three-day beard, wearing dirty coveralls, with a raspy voice and a
mischievous glint in his eye.
Located in the tiny Southeastern Utah town of Blanding. In a museum bearing his name.
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| Huck at his museum |
Hugh Acton (Better known as “Huck”) died, unbeknownst to me,
on January 21, 2016. I spent some
great hours with him in Huck’s Museum and Trading Post over my many visits to
the Anasazi ruins west of Blanding, Utah.
And though his death is a shock now that I actually know he is gone, we
all knew it was coming and continually asked, “What is going to happen to the
museum when you are gone?”
One of the great things about Huck was his penchant for
mystery. When coupled with his
zeal for life and passion for Anasazi artifacts, you couldn’t help but admire
the old goat. And even after
seeing the artifacts a dozen times, you always found yourself ponying up the
entrance fee and taking another peek.
When asked about the eventual disposition of his treasures he would
point to fading news articles tacked to his wall, which had asked the same
question. He then laughed and
rasped, “Not telling. You’ll have
to wait and see.”
Some folks (including many Federal Law Enforcement officers)
consider Huck a grave robber and a thief. And frankly, that is hard to dispute. It was also hard to prove – and stands
as a testament to the craftiness of this western pioneer who thumbed his nose
at BLM, the FBI, and the Americans Antiquities Act of 1906. But there is little doubt left in your
mind after touring the quaint and dusty museum, with world-class artifacts, on
the main street of Blanding.
But if the British are heralded for preserving world history
(pried from the myriad of cultures around the vast crevices of the world) how
can Huck be demonized for doing exactly
the same damn thing in his little corner?
Well, I waffle on this one. During some visits I quietly scorned the lack of science, of
stolen provenance, and the greed accompanying a desire to make something
belonging to history something “mine”.
But other times, I realized that nowhere else would I ever see such
perfect Anasazi history. So close
you could touch it (and many folks did).
And artifacts of every conceivable kind. Preserved.
Right in this small log structure for the world to see -- for a mere $6.
I choose not to judge.
Like all of us, Huck was a hero and a villain.
The first time I met Huck the museum was not open. We had seen it on the way to the Grand
Gulch Primitive Area west of Blanding, UT. Here hikers wander through ancient American Indian
ruins without guides, or signs, or even maps directing where to go. It is like a giant children’s museum
with incredible bits of history around each canyon bend.
We peered into the window and wondered why it wasn‘t open
(the sign and hours said it was) when a small white pickup sent dust whirling
as it came to a halt beside our car.
And out popped a tiny little man with the hoarsest voice I ever
heard. He shoved us inside,
collected our fees, grabbed a “Budweiser sandwich” from the fridge, and began
the first of what would be many tours over the years. And each time we returned, we brought Huck a six-pack of his
favorite picnic accoutrement (beer is a bit scare in the dry Mormon town of
Blanding).
The foyer,
unlike the Great Hall of the British Museum, does not inspire confidence that
the six-dollar fee will present an actual value. But Huck throws you a smile, opens the squeaky gate, and
proudly ushers his guests into what is likely the most awe inspiring collection
of Anasazi artifacts outside the Chicago Field Museum (where the antiquities
are hidden from public view in storage – having been obtained from the first
famous Anasazi grave digger – Colorado rancher Richard Wetherill).
Arrowheads, axe heads, beads, pottery, Indian pipes, and
toys, and figures (he even showed us some ancient Anasazi hair years after he
learned to trust us). And not like
ten or twenty, but hundreds if not thousands of everything you have seen at
Mesa Verde or Chaco Canyon National Parks. And many more they only wish they had.
And Huck tells the story of each item. Only getting vague when asked when or where
he got an item. Usually saying, “I
traded for that” or “It was donated.”
But the glint in his eye bemoans a different truth.
It was a two-hour tour I took every time I passed through town. And I would go again tomorrow if it were open.
I remember once, we were chatting with Huck when some new
customers came in. As he usually
did, he asked us to wait while he gave the tour so we could pick up where we
left off when he was done. We, of
course, politely agreed. He did
have a business to run. But on
this busy fall day – at what was apparently rush hour – a second group came
in. Huck rushed out and asked them
to wait, figuring he’d have to cut the first group short to get the second
group through. They told him they
didn’t have time and turned to leave.
I offered to give the tour, and I will never forget the look of wonder
on Huck’s face when I began repeating – word for word- his stories of the
various items he prized so much.
It wasn’t really that hard after the many
tours I had taken, but it still made me proud. Like I was a part of his history too.
And then there was the time he got mad at us. My twin brother James found an
absolutely incredible Anasazi effigy vessel while hiking near Slick horn
Canyon. He rushed back to camp and
as we all gathered to see this wonder, we realized this was not just any old
find. This was a magnificent artifact,
which needed to be preserved and put on display for everyone to see (it was
located on public land and belongs to the people of the United States as far as
we were concerned). The subsequent
recovery of the effigy is a story of its own, but we were right about the value
and rarity of the find. It was
immediately put on display in the Anasazi museum in Blanding Utah and greets
visitors the moment they walk through the door. It is still in first place, over a decade later.
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| Anasazi Effigy - found by James Murray |
But after the trek into Slickhorn to show the archeologists
where to find it, we had dinner at a local diner and regaled each other with
tales of the adventure – generally congratulating each other on what great stewards
of the public trust we were. And
then, right before our eyes, little Huck peered over the glass divider separating
our booth from his. Challenging us
in that raspy voice, “What are you guys doin’ here?!?!”. And when we told him, he was none to
happy. He could not understand,
for the life of him, why we didn’t put the effigy in his museum. Maybe we
should have.
There is a book called,
Finders Keepers, by Craig Childs.
It explores
this very topic (and even references Huck’s museum) in depth.
It's a good read and will make you
think.
All I know is, its fun to see ‘our’ effigy in a public
museum. And it was also great fun
to see Huck.
I’m not sure I’ve swallowed
a sip of Budweiser outside Huck’s presence – but I will tonight. Whether he was a historian or graver
robber, or a saint or sinner, Huck was my friend, and I will miss him and his trading post. Now forever CLOSED.
