Image via WikiÂmeÂdia ComÂmons
As a bevÂerÂage of choice and necesÂsiÂty for much of the popÂuÂlaÂtion in parts of the ancient world, beer has played an imporÂtant role in archaeÂolÂoÂgy. Beer cans, on the othÂer hand, have not. Unlike milÂlenÂnia-old recipes, beer cans seem like no more than trash, even in a field where trash is highÂly treaÂsured. This is a misÂtake, says archeÂolÂoÂgist Jane Busch. “The hisÂtorÂiÂcal archaeÂolÂoÂgist who ignores the beer can at his site is like the preÂhisÂtoric archeÂolÂoÂgist who ignores hisÂtoric potÂtery.”
David Maxwell, an expert in aniÂmal bones who trained as a Mayanist, has recÂogÂnized the truth of this stateÂment by turnÂing his pasÂsion for beer can colÂlectÂing into beer can archaeÂolÂoÂgy, a tiny niche withÂin the smallÂer field of “tin can archaeÂolÂoÂgy.” Maxwell became the reignÂing expert on beer can datÂing when “in 1993, he pubÂlished a field-idenÂtiÂfiÂcaÂtion guide in HisÂtorÂiÂcal ArchaeÂolÂoÂgy,” notes JesÂsiÂca GinÂgrich at Atlas ObscuÂra, “which has since become an indusÂtry stanÂdard and his most-read work.”
The first comÂmerÂcial canned beer appeared in 1935, after sevÂerÂal unsucÂcessÂful experÂiÂments startÂing in 1909. ExperÂiÂments in beer canÂning took a hiaÂtus durÂing ProÂhiÂbiÂtion, and canned beer itself went off the marÂket durÂing WWII as supÂplies of tin plate were reroutÂed to the war effort. DurÂing that interÂregÂnum, only the milÂiÂtary shipped canned beer, to solÂdiers overÂseas in olive and camo-colÂored cans. When sales resumed after the war, beer cans assumed more rouÂtinized design eleÂments. Maxwell himÂself became fasÂciÂnatÂed with beer cans from afar. “While canned beer sales explodÂed in the UnitÂed States after World War II, GinÂgrich writes, “the indusÂtry failed to take off in CanaÂda until the 1980s.”
As a child in CanaÂda, Maxwell colÂlectÂed botÂtle caps. “All the beer came in the same shape botÂtle,” he says. Cans seemed exotÂic, espeÂcialÂly those of an oldÂer vinÂtage. “They had punchÂes to open them instead of pull rings, and all I knew was that they preÂdatÂed me.” The valÂue of disÂposÂable artiÂfacts less than 100 years old isn’t immeÂdiÂateÂly apparÂent to most peoÂple, says Jim Rock, a pioÂneer of tin can studÂies who calls cans “the RodÂney DanÂgerÂfield of archeÂolÂoÂgy. They just don’t get any respect.” But the fact is “all archeÂolÂoÂgy is garbage,” says Maxwell.
DatÂing cans gives archeÂolÂoÂgists a picÂture of modÂern conÂsumpÂtion patÂterns — and patÂterns of ecoÂlogÂiÂcal destrucÂtion — in the refuse tossed on highÂways and the straÂta of trash found in conÂstrucÂtion sites, landÂfills, and even ancient dig sites, where datÂing beer cans can tell archeÂolÂoÂgists when earÂliÂer tresÂpassers might have arrived, removed or altered artiÂfacts, and left their trash behind. Maxwell, who has recentÂly downÂsized his colÂlecÂtion from 4500 to 1700 cans to save space, admits that a narÂrow focus on the beer can takes a speÂcial comÂbiÂnaÂtion of skills.
“ColÂlecÂtors are a fabÂuÂlous resource for acaÂdÂeÂmics,” he says. “These are the guys who do the grunt work” — the endÂlessÂly curiÂous citÂiÂzen sciÂenÂtists of archaeÂolÂoÂgy. “I can’t think of anyÂone else who would do that except someÂone who is obsesÂsive about what it is that they are colÂlectÂing.” In Maxwell, the obsesÂsive colÂlecÂtor and rigÂorÂous acaÂdÂeÂmÂic just hapÂpened to come togethÂer to proÂduce the definÂiÂtive guide. (See Beer Cans: A Guide for the ArchaeÂolÂoÂgist online.) But even he has had to “face the quesÂtion of what deserves to be archived and kept,” NicoÂla Jones writes at SapiÂens. In disÂcardÂing 3,000 of his own cans, most of them acquired through colÂlecÂtors online, he had to admit that “though the rusty cans were a part of hisÂtoÂry, they weren’t worth much to the rest of the world.”
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
Beer ArchaeÂolÂoÂgy: Yes, It’s a Thing
The First Known PhoÂtoÂgraph of PeoÂple SharÂing a Beer (1843)
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in Durham, NC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness
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