? I A b g ABSTRACT THE SELF-MAXIMIZATION POSTULATE: A FORMULATION OF SCOPE CONDITIONS AND EMPIRICAL TEST WITHIN EXCHANGE NETWORKS OF A NORTHWOODS FARMING COMMUNITY BY Michael Martin Loukinen A basic assumption guiding most of the current theoretical work on exchange behavior is that in virtually all social contexts transactors are "profit-seeking"-- trying to maximize gains and minimize losses. The author regards a self-maximizing orientation as but one of several orienting modes transactors adopt in their exchanges with one another. In this study an attempt is made to formulate scope conditions for the self-maximizing assumption. The fieldsite for the empirical work was a small, rural community, named Finn River, located in the northern- Jnost region of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. The residents .are second and third generation Finnish-Americans. As an adaptive response to a harsh environment the Finn River people have developed an elaborate inter-household exchange system involving helping, loaning and borrowing: and gift-— giving . Michael Martin Loukinen The author lived in the community for almost three years, participating in the local exchange systems and observing exchange phenomena in the natural community set- tings. On the basis of these observations a systematic, grounded, exchange network questionnaire was administered to 96% of the residents to find out who exchanged what with wh9m_during the course of a one-year time period. A follow-up interview was conducted in which 17% of the original respondents were asked to rate various aspects of the exchange behavioral tendencies of their exchange partners. The five variables examined in this study are: 1. Self-maximizing orientation: the extent to which a transactor Is primarily interested in maximizing gains and minimizing losses during exchanges. 2. Attraction: the extent to which a transactor intrinsically values interaction with another, independent of extrinsic rewards. 3. Density: the extent to which.the personal visiting networks of two transactors overlap. 4. Historical concern: the extent to which a transactor remembers exchange consequences with a particular exchange partner. 5. Range of exchange content: the number of different kinds of exchange contents a transactor perceives to have been exchanged with a particular exchange partner. ' Hypothesis 1 asserted an inverse relation between the range of exchange content (independent variable) and self-maximizing orientation. It was assumed that as the qualitative diversity of exchange contents in a particular exchange relation increases, transactors are more likely to I Michael Martin Loukinen find contents incommensurable and will find it difficult to assess gains and losses in their transactions. A moderate zero order association was discovered to be a consequence of the intervening effect of high attraction. Findings support the claim that extrinsic exchange is a means of expressing and maintaining intrinsic attachment (Blau, 1967). To avoid potential costs of losing positive regard of friends, transactors refrain from excessive self- maximizing exchange behaviors. Hypothesis 2 asserted an inverse relation between the range of exchange content (independent variable) and historical concern. Qualitative diversity and the associated high volume of exchanged content were assumed to precipitate an interference phenomenon inhibiting retention of past exchange consequences. Findings refute the second hypo- thesis. An insufficient diversity and volume of exchange content was transacted between members of different houses holds; hence, the information processing capacities of trans- actors were not inundated. Inter-household relations in Finn River were inadequate for testing this assertion. Hypothesis 3 asserted a direct relation between his- torical concern (independent variable) and self-maximizing orientation. I assumed the less transactors remember exchanges, the less aware they are of gains and losses; hence the less these conceptions of exchange outcomes affect their behavior. Instead of the anticipated positive, linear rela- tion I found an inverted U-curve relation. Additional analysis revealed that transactors' perceptions of the state Michael Martin Loukinen of the existing exchange record explains inverted U-curve shape. Transactors perceive "creditors" as self-maximizing to the extent to which they remember exchanges; but perceive "debtors" as less self-maximizing to the extent they fail to remember exchanges. Under conditions of high attraction and low density there was a consistently stronger association between his- torical concern and self-maximizing orientation. The find— ings suggest under high density conditions there occurs a shift from diadic exchange structures to a LeviuStraussian model of generalized exchange (Levi-Strauss, 1969). Hypothesis 4 asserted an inverse relation between density (independent variable) and self-maximizing orienta- tion. It was assumed that the existence of mutual visitors between two transactors acts as an intervening moral force promoting fairness norms which constrain self-maximizing behavior. The fourth hypothesis was weakly supported by the data. It was discovered that non-liked persons were included into what was supposed to be the calculation of affective density and this lowered the level of association in the relationship. While controlling for the effects of historical con- cern in Hypothesis 4 the findings reveal a positive, linear relation between density and self-maximizing orientation tmder the condition of high historical concern; whereas under low historical concern there was a negative linear relationship. {This again supported the interpretation of ageneralized exchange system emerging under high density conditions. THE SELF-MAXIMIZATION POSTULATE: A FORMULATION OF SCOPE CONDITIONS AND EMPIRICAL TEST WITHIN EXCHANGE NETWORKS OF A NORTHWOODS FARMING COMMUNITY BY Michael Martin Loukinen A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of Sociology 1975 © Copyright by MICHAEL MARTIN LOUKINEN 1975 ii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS So many persons have helped me during the course of this project and now that it is completed it seems odd that but one name appears on the cover. First, I would like to thank my wife Elaine for her tireless efforts in collecting, coding and verifying the data, in editing and preparing the final manuscript, and for providing essential support and reassurance when my spirits were low. I would like to express my deep sense of apprecia- tion to Bo Anderson, an advisor, teacher, and good friend for the many long informal conversations during which sociological abstractions came to life for me. He taught me to not be afraid to relate systematically my own natural perceptions of the social life existing in my own experience to the development of abstract theories. Exposure to the scope of his intellect gave me a broad vision of science and sociology. Fred Waisanen, a close friend and teacher has throughout my graduate education been a person that I could rely on when help was needed. With grace he has exercised his uncanny ability to always come up with a counter-example to make me aware of hidden assumptions. iii To Barrie Thorne I angrateful for the hard work she put into every one of my papers she read. She made me pain- fully aware of the fact that it is not a reader's task to read my mind. But most of all she sensitized me to appre- ciate the difficult work required to simply observe social processes in natural settings. I wish to thank Bill Faunce for his unpretentious, well-considered, constructive criticism. Were it not for him I would have overlooked the effects of attraction upon exchange behavior, and both this analysis and future work would have suffered greatly. I also wish to express my thankfulness to Chris Vanderpool who, as if he were an older brother, tried to guide me and to ease the pain of the long march toward a degree, without imposing his own professional world view upon me. For the generous economic support I received as a graduate student I am grateful to: the National Institute of Mental Health for awarding me a traineeship through the Institute of Comparative Sociology at Michigan State Univer- sity; to Art Poutinen, Director of the Suomi College Oral History Program for the resources needed to cover the costs of collecting and transcribing the ethnohistorical data on the community of Finn River; to Allan Beegle and the Michigan State University Agricultural Experiment Station for granting me a research assistantship during the early stages of my iv fieldwork; to Spencer Hill of Michigan Technological Univer- sity for providing me with desperately needed funds to cover the costs in verifying my data at late stages in the data processing; to Sue and Carson Foster for their economic support while I wrote the dissertation; and to the good- hearted people of Finn River who helped us with repair jobs and gave us vegetables, fruit, lake trout, a place to live, beaver meat, and countless saunas and home—cooked meals which made it possible to remain in the field to complete the project after our money was gone. I cannot ever forget the tireless efforts of Eero Ranta, Karen Karkkinen, Jim Huff, Bill Sundstrom, Stu Schaeffer, Dale Moelker, Dave Shuttes and the rest of the Campus Crusaders who continued to code and verify my data long after I could no longer pay them. For excellent secretarial help and general assistance in surmounting the never-ending bureaucratic obstacles I wish to thank Marilyn Lovall, Maija Kupsis, Meg Cooke, Donna Hiltunen, Donna Pawlowski, Jean Junkin, Marian McKellar, and Irene Orr. Without their efforts I would certainly have never completed this project. I wish to thank Roy Chamberlain for his invaluable contribution to the visual documentation of Finn River, and Doug Paul and Jim Swanteck for their dependable and compe- tent programming work. Finally, I wish to express my gratitude and affec— tion to the good people of Finn River for willingly sub~ jecting themselves to the ordeal of completing that enormous questionnaire. In particular, I wish to thank those Finn River residents who helped me administer the questionnaire. Any experienced sociologist would never dream of asking everyone in a community to complete a six-hour question- naire, but such researchers have evidently not had the privilege to carry out their work in communities where people actually do believe in helping one another. But most of all I shall treasure that strange feeling of being cared for by an entire community. vi TABLE OF CONTENTS ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . LIST OF TABLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . LIST OF FIGURES . . . . . . . . . . . . . PREFACE O O O O O O I O O O O O O O 0 Chapter I. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK . . . . . . . . II. TESTING STRATEGY AND ANALYSIS . . . . . The relation between range of exchange content and self-maximizing orientation The relation between range of exchange content and historical concern . . . The relation between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation . . . The effect of visiting common structural density upon the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern relation . . . . . . . . . . The relation between visiting common structural density and self— maximizing orientation . . . . . . III. SUMMARY OF RESULTS AND CONCLUSION . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . .APPENDICES .An AN ETHNOHISTORY OF FINN RIVER . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . Hardship in the Old Country . . . . . "Making a go of it" in the copper mines . Migration into the countryside . . . . "Making a go of it" in the northwoods . vii Page . iii . ix . xiv .xvii . 1 . l7 . l7 . 22 . 25 . 40 . 54 . 70 . 83 . 86 . 86 . 9O . 97 . 108 . 114 H. Natural and man-made transportation systems Open the community to the external cash economy Farming and logging Adapting to a commercial world . THE UPPER PENINSULA REGIONAL SETTING FINN RIVER'S MICRO-ECOLOGICAL SETTING CHARACTERISTICS OF FINN RIVER POPULATION . Age Distribution . Sexual composition . Geographical stability Ethnic cultural homogeneity . Education . . . . Participation in the cash economy Household income distribution Subsistence economy Perceived security of income source Perceived quality of life DATA COLLECTION METHODS Considerations in selecting the fieldsite Initial method of mapping a community exchange network . STATISTICAL TABLES . . FOOTNOTES FOR TEXT . . FOOTNOTES FOR APPENDIX . BIBLIOGRAPHY SOURCES . . . . viii The community exchange network sample Follow-up sampling from the respondents included in the exchange network Method used on the follow-up interview Page 116 121 145 196 210 229 229 232 236 242 246 249 258 259 275 277 281 281 283 289 292 294 303 335 337 343 Table 1. lo. 11. 12. 13. LIST OF TABLES Page Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content (Zero Order) . . . . . . 303 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content under Condition of Low Attraction . . 305 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content under Condition of High Attraction . 306 Historical Concern by Range of Exchange Content (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . . . . 307 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . . 310 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Con- cern under Condition of Low Attraction . . . 311 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Con- cern under Condition of High Attraction . . 312 Measures of Association for Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern . . . . 28 Measures of Association for SelfsMaximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation- ship at High Levels of Historical Concern . . 30 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Condition of Low Historical Concern . . 313 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Condition of Medium Historical Concern . . . 314 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Condition of High Historical Concern . . . 315 ix Table 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. Attraction by Historical Concern (Zero Order) . . . . Measures of Association for the Attraction by Historical Concern and High Levels of Person's Perceptions Other's Giving and Historical Concern Person's Perceptions Page 0 O O O I O O O O 316 Relationship Under Low Historical Concern . . . 35 of the Frequency of Receiving by O O O O O O O O O 38 of Other's Ratio of Giving to Receiving Under Conditions of Self— Maximizing Orientation and Historical Concern 39 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Others Giving and Receiving under Low and High Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Attraction by Visiting Common Structural Density (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . . 318 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern under Conditions of Low Attraction with Low Visiting Common Structural Density . 319 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Con— _ cern under Conditions of Low Attraction with High Visiting Common Structural Density . . 320 Measures of Association of the Self- Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern under the Condition of Low Attraction with Both Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . 44 Measures of Association of Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at High Levels of Historical Concern under the Condition of Low Attraction with Both Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern under Conditions of High Attraction with Low Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . 321 Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern under Conditions of High Attraction with High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . 322 X Table Page 26. Measures of Association of Self«Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 27. Measures of Association for the Self— Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Higher Levels of Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . 52 28. Measures of Association Summarizing the Relation Between Self-Maximizing Orientation and Historical Concern . . . . 53 29. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density (Zero Order) . . . . . 323 30. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under the Condition of Low Attraction . . . . . . . . . . . 324 31. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under the Condition of High Attraction . . . . . . . . . . 325 32. Measures of Association for the Self—Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density Relation from 0—2 Visiting Common Structural Density under Conditions of Low and High Attraction, and the Zero Order (No Control) . . . . . . . . . . . 57 33. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Condition of Low Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 34. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Condition of High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327 35. Measures of Association for Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density Relation for Visiting Common Struc- tural Density Ranging from 2-4 Persons Under Zero Order, Low and High Attraction Conditions . . . . . . . . . . . . 60 36. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Condition of Low Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . 328 xi Table Page 37. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Condition of High Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . 329 38. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of Low Attraction with Low Historical Concern . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330 39. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Structural Density under Conditions of Low Attraction with High Historical Concern . . 331 40. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of High Attraction with Low Historical Concern . 332 41. Self—Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of High Attraction with High Historical Concern . 333 42. The Exchange of Visits by Attraction . . . . 334 43. Finnish Emigration According to Province of Origin 1893—1960 . . . . . . . . . 95 44. 1890-1920 Finnish Emigrant Population of Rural Origin by Occupation . . . . . . . . . 96 45. Comparison of Finn River Age Distribution to 1970 Michigan Urban and Rural Areas . . . . 230 46. Sex Ratio Comparisons Between Finn River and 1970 National, State and County Data . . . 233 47. Distribution of Finn River Males by Household Role Combinations . . . . . . . . . . 237 48. Distribution of Finn River Females by House- hold Role Combinations . . . . . . . . 238 49. Finn River Adult Population by Sex, Birthplace and Childhood Residence . . . . . . . . 239 50. Total Years Lived in Finn River by Sex and mean Age 0 O O C O I C C O I O C O 2 4 l 51. Language Skill by Age and Sex . . . . . . 243 xii Table 52. 53. 54. 55. Page Adult Educational Achievement by Sex and Mean Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Scope of Adult Male Participation in Cash EconOIny O O O O O O I O O O O O O 2 5 1 Types of Employers of Finn River Adult Population . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Distance Traveled to Work by Sex . . . . . 256 xiii Figure 1. 11. LIST OF FIGURES Balance Triads Illustrating the Constraining Effect of Visiting Common Structural Density on Self-Maximizing Orientation . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content (Zero Order) . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . . . Self—Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content under Conditions of Low and High Attraction . . . . . . . Range of Exchange Content by Historical Concern (Zero Order) . . . . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern under Conditions of High and Low Attraction . . . . . . . . . . Self—Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Low, Medium and High Levels of Historical Concern . . . . . . . . Attraction by Historical Concern (Zero Order) Visiting Common Structural Density by Attraction (Zero Order) . . . . . . . Self-Maximization by Historical Concern under Joint Conditions of Low Attraction with both Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . . . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern under Joint Conditions of High Attraction with both Low and High.Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . xiv Page 13 18 20 21 23 26 32 34 41 43 47 Figure 12. l3. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Control Conditions of High and Low Attraction . . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Conditions of Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density . . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Conditions of Low and High Historical Concern . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of Low Attraction with Low and High Historical Concern . . . . . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of High Attraction with Low and High Historical Concern . . . . . Finns as a Ranking Nationality Group in the U.S. by Counties . . . . . . . . . Finn River Threshing Days. . Threshing Crew at Work . . . . . . . . Finn River Economic Exchange Network, 1912- 1917 O I O O O O O O O O O O 0 Adaptive Cabbage Distribution Network, 1910-1939 . . . . . . . . . . . Adaptive Potato Distribution Network, 1906-1936 . . . . . . . . . . . Finnish Foreign Stock in the Upper Great Lakes Area by Counties . . . . . . . . . Finn River and the Immediately Surrounding Area C C O O O O O O I O O O 0 Aerial View of Finn River Countryside . . . Aerial View of Finn River's Village Area, Looking Northwest . . . . . . . . . XV Page 55 59 64 66 68 98 156 156 166 188 193 207 211 211 214 Figure Page 27. South End of Finn River's Service Center . . . 223 28. North End of Finn River's Service Center . . . 223 29. Finn River C00perative Store . . . . . . . 226 30. Finn River Service Area in the Evening . . . 226 31. Finn River Gardener's Protective Device for Warm Weather Plants . . . . . . . . 262 32. Typical Basement Food Cellar . . . . . . . 263 33. Finn River Gardener Harvesting Potatoes . . . 263 34. Junk Salvaged for Spare Parts . . . . . . 267 35. Tool Designed and Made by a Finn River Man . . 267 36. Farmer Sharpening an Axe in His Workshop . . . 270 37. Farmer Watching Buyer Grade Pelts . . . . . 270 38. Women Shopping in Finn River Coop . . . . . 272 39. Laundry Hanging to Dry . . . . . . . . . 272 40. Cook in Finn River School Kitchen . . . . . 274 41. Finn River Woman Cooking on Her Wood Stove . . 274 42. Perceived Income Security by Age and Sex . . . 276 43. Perceived Life Satisfaction by Age and Sex . . 278 44. Procedure Respondents Followed in Rating Exchange Behavioral Tendencies of Their Exchange Partners 298 xvi PREFACE The original seeds from which this study ultimately grew were planted in the spring of 1969 when, as a conse~ quence of enrolling in Bo Anderson's seminar on comparative stratification systems I was puzzled by the apparent stability of so many traditional peasantelandlord relation— ships (Moore, 1967). How could such obviously asymmetrical power relations persist without being shattered under the weight of inequity perceptions? While in Fred Waisanen's seminar on the comparative study of modernization and social change I was busy con- trasting traditional and modern conceptions of social struc- ture, and thinking of the interactional modes associated with these social structural conceptions, in terms of exchange behavioral styles. I began to think the tradi- tional, “multiplex" (Gluckman, 1962) structure of role rela- tions prevented the occurrence of self-maximizing behavior, since the inequity perceptions occurring within one role will have the effect of spreading conflict into other role contexts. Hence, the cost of excessive self-maximizing is higher in multiplex role relations. xvii ‘9‘... 00's.- -._‘. '-oc ., -_._ i ‘Q x.: . ‘bo ., ~: ~.; ~.:.. '. _'- I. ." . -I. . n N. . o Then our attention turned to a consideration of patronwclient relationships (Paine, 1970). The interesting feature was that the obscurance of inequity perceptions was associated with.a wide variety of exchange obligations. Gradually into our discussion Bo and I introduced examples of the exchange processes in our own lives. Conversational interaction was so intense that before long I was living my exchange theories. I tried to calculate the profitability of exchange outcomes in relationships with friends and found that even when I deliberately tried to do so my efforts were thwarted by the qualitative complexity of the kinds of rewards exchanged and the sheer volume of exchanges. It then occurred to me that a pivotal factor possibly impeding both perceptions of inequity and the calculation of profits in lord-peasant, patron-client and many friend— ship relations was the qualitative diversity and high.volume of contents exchanged in the relationships. The following study is a consequence of the reworking, formulation and testing of these ideas. In Chapter I the study begins with a detailed elaboration of the theoretical argument, specifying scope conditions for the self-maximization hypothesis. Measure- ment procedures are mentioned briefly in this first chapter, but a detailed account of the development of grounded indicators during the course of extensive participant- observation fieldwork is included in Appendix E. xviii The steps in the analysis of the data are presented in Chapter II. A summary and interpretation of the findings is included in Chapter III, along with possibilities for future analysis. Strictly speaking, these findings cannot be generalized to all communities and it is simply beyond the capacity of a single researcher to collect holistic exchange network data in several communities. Additional data are now being collected, but until we have a much wider data base, generalizations of these findings must be limited and cautious. Macro-structural features of collective units, and the historical circumstances under which exchange systems evolve, seem to effect diadic exchange processes. The self— maximizing behaviors Blau believed he was observing were likely to be consequences of the organizational features of the larger bureaucratic structure surrounding the trans- actors (Blau, 1967). Certainly one condition promoting the advice-for-status deference transactions is the fact that individual, competitive mobility is emphasized in modern bureaucracies. The occupational reward systems tell transactors that anything they do at work must be seen from the point of view of gaining career advantages. Furthermore the modern, highly specific roles in bureaucratic settings are conducive to the calculation of exchange outcomes in terms of costs and gains. The explicit task performance xix specifications and explicit contingencies for merit raises and status privileges facilitate cost—gain calculations. Given the possibility that larger social structural conditions may shape the kinds of exchange processes studied between individuals, it is important for the reader to grasp the essential features of the community context in which these data were collected. Just as it is important for the experimentalist studying exchange processes in laboratory settings to give very thorough descriptions of the experimental apparatus procedures and the contextual setting in which the observations were made; it is equally important for the fieldworking sociologist to provide a description of the natural social context surrounding the observations presented in his analysis. A detailed description of the Finn River community is included in the four appendices immediately following the main text. These appendices are not in any way incin dental to the theoretical study. It was my original inten— tion to include the descriptive material in the main text preceding the theoretical chapters and to bridge the two sections with a detailed ethnography of social exchange behavior based upon the qualitative data I collected during the two years of participant observation fieldwork. But time and cost problems forced me to postpone writing the ethnographic report for the purposes of completing the dissertation. Appendix A is a descriptive account of the ethno— history of Finn River. Since there was no written history of the community, the data were collected in unstructured, tape-recorded interviews with the "old-timers." These data were transcribed verbatum, to preserve, insofar as possible, the natural perspective of the residents. The ethnohistory presented describes the sequences of eXperiences as they are interpreted by the peOple who lived them. It is a grass-roots account of the settlement of a northwoods farming community. Appendix B is a general description of Michigan's Upper Peninsula as a regional context surrounding Finn River. Appendix C describes the micro-ecological setting of the community and includes several photographs to visually document the nature of the community setting. Appendix D provides a description of the Finn River population. As a suggestion to the reader seriously interested in exchange behavior in natural settings, I think it would be profitable to scan the first four appendices before dealing with the theoretical issues. xxi CHAPTER I THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK Underlying most social behavior is a more concrete and fundamental process of social exchange. Individuals are continually performing transactions with one another. Some persons are explicitly aware of this process and give it linguistic notice. In the English language speakers commonly refer to it as "give-and-take," "scratch- ing each other's back," "tit-for-tat," and "cooperation." A significant feature common to these folk categorizations is the idea that each of the participants must giye_and is thereby entitled to receive. The term exchange as used by both sociologists and laymen defines the character of the relation between acts giving and receiving. The core assumption guiding most of our current theoretical work on exchange behavior is what the author calls the self-maximizing_orientation. Many American sociologists assume that virtually all social behavior is continuously oriented toward the maximization of rewards related to the individual's values. Current work on .nn"' - v... n no » s c. - ‘0'.» u . 0~Ifi \l-I. . . -.—-. exchange theories appears somewhat stifled as a consequence of assuming the universal validity of the self-maximization assumption.l I shall attempt to formulate scope conditions stating the conditions under which we can expect Person to abandon a self—maximizing orientation in transactions with Other.2 In order to proceed with this theorizing, specific definitions of exchange concepts will be required. Definition 1: Exchange content refers to the tangible and intangible media transactors perceive to be given and received during the exchange process. Exchange content may vary according to the particular cultural setting. It may be hours of work, a salary, a borrowed object, a favor, women, advice, or anything Person perceives to be given or received during a transaction. In this study the exchange contents regularly transacted by the residents of Finn River were discovered during the course of a year of participant observation fieldwork. The list of regularly exchanged contents includes 24 different kinds of help; six categories of loaning and borrowing; two kinds of ceremonial gift exchange and eleven categories of informal gift exchange. See Appendix E for a detailed description of exchange contents. Definition 2: The content comparison process is a cognitive operation performed by transactors when they compare the exchange content(s) they perceive themselves to L7 .4..- .90. . ‘su . . c.. (w - ‘ \ \ have given, with respect to those exchange contents they perceive themselves as having received, in a transaction. Definition 3: Range g£_exchange content refers to the number of qualitatively different kinds of exchange contents perceived by Person as having been exchanged with Other. The idea of a variable range of exchange content transacted between two persons has long been considered an important issue by social anthropologists studying exchange phenomena in primitive economic systems (Malinowski, 1922; Mauss, 1935; Firth, 1939; Bohanan, 1959; Dalton, 1965). Sociologists have traditionally conceptualized the idea in terms of variable dimensions of social relationships. This has been discussed as "single and multi-bonded" relations (Sorokin, 1929); "simplex and multiplex" role relations (Gluckman, 1955: 20 and 1962: 28); as "specific versus diffuse role expectations" and at another analytical level as "particularistic versus universalistic patterned value orientations" (Parsons, 1951: 86). More recently there has been an abstract conceptualization as "links" or "ties" between nodes of a social network (Mitchell, 1969: 20; and Barnes, 1972: 3). Range of exchange content is operationalized as the number of different kinds of help, loaning and borrowing events, and gift-giving episodes occurring between Person and Other during the course of a one year interval. Definition 4: Self-maximizingorientation, the basic dependent variable in this study, is defined as the extent to which transactors are primarily interested in minimizing the value of exchange contents they perceive to be giving, and maximizing the value of exchange contents they perceive to be receiving, during transactions. Self“ maximizing orientation is operationalized in terms of Person's judgements on a 1-9 scale of the extent to which. Other is "good-hearted." The scale was afterwards inverted So that a low score on goodheartedness would be a high Score on the self-maximizing orientation variable, and - 3 Vice versa . The self-maximizing assumption has been a funda- rflental and controversial issue in the history of social thought and in both classical and modern sociological theory . Its intellectual roots are tracedto hedonistic assumptions of human nature found in classical Epicurean e‘tzhical thought (Abrahamsson, 1970) . The idea was trans-- formed into a social doctrine by generalizing the principle from egoistic pleasure and pain to "the greatest good for the greatest number" (Everett, 1960) . Hedonistic assumptions about the essence of man in “the state of nature" justify a strong central state in Eolitical philosoPhical thought (Hobbes; 1651) . In more :recent political science and political anthr0pol_°9Y the self—maximizing postulate is translated into an assumed universal quest for power (Laswell, 1948; Leach. 1954: 10). It has been a basic assumption of classical economic theory (Smith, 1904). One finds it rooted deeply into psycholo- gical theories in the form of assumptions about the tendency for the human personality to operate so as to maximize pleasure and minimize pain (Freud, 1928: 18). In classi- cal sociological theory we find the self-maximization assumption considered as a type of social action (Weber, 1947: 115); and as the central organizing principle of turban, capitalistic society (Toennies, 1957: 65). Definition 5: Historical concern is defined as the (Bactent to which a transactor remembers past transactions. {FTle idea of remembering past transactions is implicitly 1311i1t into several crucial exchange theoretical concepts, 1311t to my knowledge has never been explicitly recognized as Eixl important variable. To be meaningful the concept of EEIEciprocity (Gouldner, 1960; Blau, 1967; Sahlins, 1968) Eissumes that a receiver of exchange content will remember 'tdle donor's act of giving. The concept of trust (Blau, 14367: 91; Mauss, 1954; Levi—Strauss, 1969: 265) considered E18 the giver's assessment of the likelihood that a receiver Vvill reciprocate is also based upon the premise that the Iceceiver will pay sufficient attention to the history of TEmst.exchange flows to remember the donor's acts of giving. One of the main thrusts of this paper is the claim that if a.transactor is to calculate such abstractions as profit, eguity or ineguity he must to some degree be concerned with remembering the history of exchange content flows. For the purposes of this study, the extent of Other's historical concern is measured in terms of Person's judgements of the degree to which Other "keeps track of the give-and-take that goes on in our daily life." Definition 6: Interpersonal attraction is defined as the extent to which a transactor intrinsically values interaction with an exchange partner, independent of any material benefits such interaction may produce. The theoretical importance of the affective or "friendship" dimension of social relationships as it is related to exchange processes is emphasized in the classical Sociological literature (Toennies, 1957; Weber, 1947; Dialinowski, 1922; Mauss, 1954) . Modern theorists analyzing exchange transactions have considered attraction in the form of "liking" and "intrinsic rewards" both as a dependent and independent variable (Blau, 1967: 69; Homans, 1974: 64). In this study, Other's attractiveness is empirically indicated in terms of Person's estimates of the degree to whiCh he "likes and enjoys the company" of Other. Definition 7: Visiting common structural density is defined as the extent to which there is an overlap of the visiting networks (set of persons visited) of Person a11d Other. Operationally, it is defined as the number of D“arsons who visit and/or are visited by both Person and 0ther . The idea of structural density seems to have emerged ln sociological literature as a consequence of rural-urban la.‘ . . - ..-.¢ . c...”- >l.a . - ‘l“- .- .‘ : c. . ‘9 .. . a. a. n.» . . '1... ‘\ social structural comparisons.5 Generally the concept has been expressed in varying metaphors such as a "web of affiliations" (Simmel, 1955: 89), the "familiarity of neighborhood" (Toennies, 1957: 39) , "interlocking roles" (Nadel, 1957), "close—knit and loose-knit" (Bott, 1957: 59) and "connectedness" (Reader, 1964: 22). Recently it has been defined more precisely, as it has been closely coordinated with the concept of a social network (Mitchell, 1969) . Social network researchees have available a precise definition of density as "the ratio of the actual links between a set of nodes to the theoretically possible number of links" (Barnes, 1966); but to my knowledge there has been no systematic empirical research accounting for or ascertaining the consequences 0f density, simply because it is so difficult to get an accurate measure of it in a field setting (Mitchell, 1969: 19). Density can be calculated on the basis of any theoretically meaningful relationship between the persons in a social network. For the purposes of this study I 1'1-élve selected visiting density because of the characteris- tics of the visiting exchange relation in the community of F inn River.6 The theoretically relevant properties of the ViSiting transaction as it occurs in Finn River are: Visitors generally like one another (see Table 42 in z\ppendix F); and visitors exchange information about the QXchange performances of mutually known, non-present third Dersons . p -gvu .1; a no on. - ”O. DOA. . u \l' ‘- u ‘n... . h "c... . 4 -" .I' .. 'O . t s, t ‘h ._. ... \ . I~:. . Now that we have reviewed the definitions of vari- ables examined in this study, let us turn to a consideration of the major assumptions and a statement of the hypotheses to be tested. Assumption 1: Let us assume that transactors are primarily motivated by the desire to minimize the value of the exchange contents they perceive themselves as giving and to maximize the value of the exchange contents they perceive themselves to be receiving, whenever the costs of so doing do not outweigh the benefits. A self-maximizing orientation toward social behavior is but one of several orienting modes individuals adopt in their transactions with one another (Meeker, 1971; Burns, 1972) . Person may be equity-oriented in transactions with other insofar as he wants to get what is believed to be deserved (Berger, Zelditch, and Anderson, 1972). Person Inay be oriented toward maximizing the joint utility as in healthy marriage relationships; or Other-oriented as in the case of altruism and parent-child relationships (Berkowitz and Daniels, 1963) . Person may also be colle‘ctivity— 9 riented when the welfare of a larger social unit (family, Qlub, team) transcends a consideration of individual costs and benefits. For the purposes of this study I shall assume the QXistence of a general self—maximizing orientation in Order that I may try to state the conditions under which transactors will elect to not self-maximize in their exchanges . Assumption 2A: In order to assess the profitability of exchange outcomes it is necessary for transactors to perform a content comparison process. According to Defini- tion 2, Person must compare what he perceives to have given against that which he perceives himself to receive, if even the crudest assessment of "profit" (Homans, 1974: 31) or the "goodness of outcomes" (Thibault and Kelley, 1959) . Assumption 23: As the range of exchange content expands between Person and Other, the increasing differen- tiation of content introduces a qualitative complexity into their exchange calculations, which increases the likelihood that they will find exchange contents incommen— Surable. There are some exchange relationships in Finn River where Person and Other may exchange such a vast Variety of goods and services it is unlikely that they will have available a common standard by which to assess their relative value. This provides the background for our first hYPothesis : Hypothesis 1: The wider (narrower) the range of exchange content transacted between Person and Other the more likely they will have weaker (stronger) self-maximizing orientations. Assumption 3: Let us assume there are limits on the information-processing capacity of transactors with regard to their ability to remember the history of past iransactions with exchange partners. As the range of exchange content transacted between two persons expands, the qualitative diversity of stimuli and the sheer volume 10 (frequency) are likely to produce an interference pheno- menon inhibiting the retention of past exchange conse- quences.7 The argument is simply that it is more difficult for Person to remember incidents in the exchange history with Other when there is a wide range of qualitatively different kinds of exchange content transacted, and a high volume of transactions with Other. The third hypothesis is based on this assumption of an interference phenomenon. It is difficult to separate the effects of the qualitative diversity of exchange content and the volume of exchange content to assess their independent effects on exchange memory. The volume of exchange content trans- acted must be equal to and may be greater than the range of exchanged content, but they are so closely related Empirically that they cannot be separated in this analysis. Hypothesis 2: The wider (narrower) the range of exchange content exchanged between two transactors the more likely they are to display low (high) historical concern. The rationale underlying the next hypothesis is that as Person keeps track more closely of past transactions, the more acutely aware he becomes of gains and losses. Such a heightened awareness of gains and losses should increase the reinforcing impact of these perceived exchange outcomes to a level where they increasingly regulate exchange bahavior. By Definition 4, this involves an increase in the level of a transactor's self-maximizing orientation. Similarly it is assumed the less closely Person keeps track of past transactions the less aware he is of 0 ~.. ~05: :. . _. .a. .‘. . 11 gains and losses. A lessened awareness of gains and losses (findnishes the reinforcing impact of these outcomes, and by Infinition 4, this reduces the level of Person's self- nmximizing orientation. Hypothesis 3: The greater (lesser) Person's historical concern, the more likely is he to have a strong (weak) self-maximizing orienta— tion. The final hypothesis includes a structural property of a social network--visiting common structural density as a predictor variable and self—maximizing orientation as the dependent variable. Let us proceed with.the argument, supposing, for the purposes of illustration, that Person llas been engaging in rather excessive self-maximizing exchanges with Other. Assumption 4: Let us assume that Person and Other .ine and are liked by the mutually visited persons included -5Jlthe intersection of their visiting networks. I suspect tflfis assumption would be empirically sound in many different cfilltural settings because pe0p1e generally prefer to visit ‘3Mme people whose company they enjoy. While discussing t3hefindings, I shall assess the empirical accuracy of this asE’aumption. Assumption 5: Let us assume the mutually visited Persons dislike self-maximizing exchange behaviors. The Ilistorical circumstances of the community of Finn River ‘mre such that, as an adaptive response to a harsh environ— ment, there emerged a normative system emphasizing social 12 responsibility (Berkowitz and Daniels, 1963) (see Appen- dix A) . Hidden behind this assumption that people generally dislike self-maximizing behaviors is another assumption that people expect fairness or equitable exchange. It is precisely when the expectation of equity is violated that disliking is precipitated. The assumption of equity expectations does not contradict the assumption that people generally do engage in self—maximizing exchanges. Both. phenomena occur in social reality and this is one of the most basic sources of conflict. Assumption 6: Let us also assume the mutually visited persons will hear that Person was engaging in excessively self-maximizing exchange behaviors with regard to Other. It is not uncommon for peOple to complain about the exchange performance of someone who has self-maximized against their interests. It is my impression that com- Plaints of this nature are made to listeners who also, in some capacity, know the exchange deviants. In the community 015 Finn River (and in many other communities) , such com-- Dlaints generally occur during the context of visiting QOnversation, when the participants report their recent $1{periences to one another and discuss the activities of cher, non-present persons. These assumptions can be represented in the form of two balance triads as diagrammed in Figure 1 on the next Page . l3 (Mutually - Visited Persons (Assumption 4) (Assumption 4) _ * | . Person (Assumption 5) (Assumption 6) (Assumption 6) Self-Maximizing Exchange Behavior Figure 1 . Balance Triads Illustrating the Constraining Effect of Visiting Common Structural Density on Self- Maximizing Orientation. 'I' 811 .It is assumed that Person has a positive self concept thd this is omitted from the diagram. Standard balance eOrynotation is based on Cartwright and Zander, 1960. "o. ~ .,. ..~ ‘1'. r. I“. A. . pl: c “~._ 14 As a consequence of liking Person, disliking self-maximizing acts, and hearing from Other that Person self-maximized against his interests, the mutually visited persons will be in a state of dissonance (Heider, 1958). Assuming the unit formation between Person and the self- maximizing exchange acts is too strong to segregate via denial or reinterpretation, the mutually visited persons are likely to resolve dissonance by redefining Person negatively (see Blau, 1967 on "social disapproval"). Person is likely to suffer costs in the form of a potential loss of future intrinsic and extrinsic benefits associated with the friendship with the mutually visited persons; and vfiJl be likely to experience a loss in self—esteem as a cmnsequence of the social disapproval. I assume the costs should be approximately in proportion to the number of nmtually visited friends who are angry with.him. As the lumber of mutually visited friends increases we can expect Person to be more likely to forego self-maximizing at Other's expense and conform to the fairness norms held by the affective density cluster. If person makes a concession and conforms to the fairness norms, he is not totally abandoning a self- maxl'mizing orientation in the sense that he is still trying t6) minimize costs by avoiding the negative sanctions. The direction of the self-maximizing orientation shifts from diadic exchange with a particular Other toward the group ‘35 nmtually visited persons. Perhaps we could best describe 15 this complex exchange orientation as a joint self-maximizing and collectivity orientation. It is certainly possible for several exchange orientations to Operate in one transaction episode. The final hypothesis can be formulated as follows: Hypothesis 4: The greater (lesser) the visiting common structural density embracing two trans- actors the more they are likely to have weaker (stronger) self-maximizing orientations. It is necessary to include the balance triad where the mutually-visited persons like Other, dislike self— maximizing acts, and know that Other has been exploited. It should make a difference if Other is liked or not liked as to whether or not negative sanctions will be directed at Person. People are more upset when they hear that friends were cheated than when they learn that the same has happened to strangers or disliked Others. If Other is strongly liked, and the unit formation between exploitation NEIOther is strong and undeniable, the mutually visited persons may expect Person to somehow readjust the exchange imbalance by reimbursing Other. There are always alternative modes of dissonance reduction, but the balance theory argument seems to best explain the constraining effect affective structural density 1"“518 on self-maximizing behavior in diadic exchange situa— tions. Arensburg and Kimball noticed in their studies of SOCial structure in rural Ireland: Ordinarily, of course, failure to fulfill such obligations either directly in social situations or in agricultural c00peration does not lead to Violent conflict, but rather to an estrangement. 16 The niggardly friend, especially one who fails to return an obligation, is held up to general condemnation, not only by his kindred but by the whole community (Arensburg and Kimball, 1940: 74). Now that we have reviewed the major concepts and theoretical arguments, let us test the hypotheses. Included in Appendix E is a detailed description of the operationalization procedures for the reader interested in these issues. CHAPTER II TESTING STRATEGY AND ANALYSIS The relation between range of exchange content and self— maximizing orientation In the first hypothesis, a negative, linear relation is asserted to hold between the range of exchange content and the extent of Other's self-maximizing orientation. It is assumed that the increasing variety of exchange content generates in the minds of transactors a commensurability problem which makes assessments of the profitability of transactions exceedingly difficult. Figure 2 on the next page illustrates the trend of the relationship between self-maximizing orientation and range of exchange content under the zero order (no controls). (Mean values of self-maximizing orientation are plotted across range of exchange content categories. There appears t1) be a substantial negative and sufficiently linear rela~ tionship. The data upon which the graph in Figure 2 is based iii included in Table 1 of Appendix F. There is also a Substantial degree of statistical association with asym- metrio Somer's d = -.26. yx l7 \ “‘3 I .i..|J-|.- .| In... ‘l‘n‘l .- . I“% 18 3) -L I 0 A A A A A 3 4 5 8 7 8 9 10+ Nb Self-Max1mizlng Orientation :- 1 Range of Exchange Content Figure 2. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content (Zero Order). 19 If we assume that in the case of intrinsic attrac- tion the exchange of extrinsic benefits is essentially a means of expressing and winning intrinsic attachment (Blau, 1967: 76), then we can expect Person to refrain from self- maximizing against the interests of well-liked Others, in order to avoid the costs of losing the intrinsic rewards. If the thought of losing intrinsic attachment contains a transactor's self-maximizing motivation, we can expect an inverse, negative relation between the extent of self— maximizing orientation and degree of attraction. Figure 3 expresses this relation. See Table 2 in Appendix F for the cross-tabulated data. Our expectations are confirmed as we find a negative, linear relationship between self-maximizing orientation and attraction. It is also a strong negative association with asymmetric Somer's dyx = —.56, assuming attraction is the predictor variables Given the strong negative association between self- maximizing orientation and attraction, the intervening effect 0f attraction accounts for the zero order relation in ‘Figure 2. .Attraction is introduced as a control variable alkiits effects on the self-maximizing orientation by range ‘Df exchange content relationship are represented in Figure 4. CrDes-tabulated data for graphs in Figure 4 are presented in Tables 3 and 4 in Appendix F. The graphs under both the low and high conditions of ‘atiractions show a less negative lepe than in the zero 20 8 7 ‘5 6 u—a .p as 4.: c: (D «4 :4 0 no 5 c or! N u-i s or! ii 2;: 4 ‘H H (D U) 3 2 1 2 3 1+ 5 6 Attraction Figure 3 . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction (Zero OI‘der) . 21 X- *——fi—-‘ ‘ "--. l), \ I ' \p—u-o———-O’ Under condition of low ATRN L — --Under condition of high ATRN 'L K») A A A A Self-Maximizing Orientation 3 4 5 8 7 8 916+ Range of Exchange Content Hr N Figure 4. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Range of Exchange Content under Conditions of Low and High Attraction. 22 order condition. There appears to be a slightly sharper negative slope under the condition of high attraction. Somer's d x under the low attraction condition is -.08, whereas under the high attraction condition dyx = -.20. (The anticipated effect of exchange content incommen- surability is virtually negligible. The apparent associa- tion between self-maximizing orientation and range of exchange content is due to the intervening effect of high attraction. Hypothesis one is not supported by the data. The relation between rangg of §§change content and Llstorical concern In the second hypothesis a negative, linear relation is asserted to hold between the range of exchange content as the independent variable and historical concern as the depen— dent variable. It is assumed that as the range of exchange content increases the qualitative content will produce an interference phenomenon inhibiting exchange memory. Figure 5 presents a graph of the historical concern 17 range of exchange content relation under no control con- ditions. Table 5 in Appendix F contains the cross-tabulated data. Both the graph and the table refute the second hybothesis. There is no discernable relationship between the expanding range of exchange content and historical QQlficern . 23 .Apmcpo opmmvlcnmocOo HwoflnOpmfim an pCmpCOO mwcmnoxm mo mmcmm :nmocoo awoflnopmwm N. o . m a ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ er ‘01 . m onswflm 2.]. quaiuoo afiueqoxg JO afiuea n-ns- . .- .....‘ ~..-.. ~«, v... M...‘ 24 On the basis of naturalistic fieldwork observations, this researcher believes, in spite of this refuting evi- dence, that there are in fact some exchange relations between transactors where such a high volume and wide variety of exchange content is exchanged that Person and Other do not even try to remember the exchange record. And while collecting these data, a few respondents volun- tarily expressed this feeling during the course of judging (Ithers on the extent to which they display historical cxancern. Two of these relations were between kinsmen— Iaeaighbors, and two between close neighbors. In these cases ‘tlle individuals exchange a very wide range of exchange con- ‘tient between one another and interact practically every day, and have done so for many years. These cases do not effect ‘tlnese data because there are so few of them in the follow—up sample, and so few of them in the actual exchange network. While observing natural settings these kinds of relations appeared between members of households. The e1~:change network data concern only those transactions 13€3tween households. I began asking questions about trans- EicItions between household members, but stOpped when it l3£icame obvious that the people resented what they regarded Elsa an intrusion into their marital and familial relation- $3hips. In this community, transactions occurring within the isEimily are privatized and not spoken about to non-family 'hnsembers of the personal network. 25 The relation between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation Our third hypothesis asserted a positive linear relation between historical concern as an independent vari— able and selfemaximizing orientation as the dependent The rationale underlying this assertion is that variable. the more (less) closely Persons keep track of past trans- actions the more acutely aware they become of gains and Such a heightened awareness of gains and losses losses. should increase (decrease) the reinforcing impact of these exchange outcomes to a level where they increasingly By Definition 4, (decreasingly) regulate exchange behavior. this involves an increase (decrease) in the level of a transactor's self-maximizing orientation. Since we have found such a strong negative associa- t51-011 between attraction and self-maximizing orientation, we cannot examine the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern relation without controlling for the effects of a‘ttraction. Figure 6 presents graphs of the self-maximizing Q ~ . . . . blentation by historical concern relation under no controls, The ”IICi under conditions of both low and high attraction. Q erDss-tabulated data are included in Tables 6, 7, and 8 in ADEiendix F. In Figure 6 notice the inverted U-curve form of the Qlation in both the zero order and high attraction condi- tions. In the low attraction condition this inverted h‘curve shape virtually disappearso At low levels 0f 26 .coapomnpp< o o O i‘ zme< am: mo .coapwcsoo nmocslll zme< 30H Mo Cowpfipsoo nopsalllll 23.8 SE 5228 H228 8 .82 :5 :mflm mo mGOHpHUcoo pops: cumoCOO awowHOPmHm hp soapMPcmeo wsflufiswxmznmamm . w :nmocoo HMOflhOpmHm m m m 0 m 3 m W u 309 cam onsmwm o is % TL Iu - W B X m. T... n 2 To U ed 0 J to . m 0 1. B .1. To 0 U N. ....p. u ”u... ‘ ‘..' Olav- - u..'.. 1....- o. . a up...” ..- ‘l - - ‘l V I 00-- - - .. .. p.. g...“ Nu. .1. 0“. 27 historical concern, defined as categories 2-5 on the X axis, under both low and high conditions of attraction, to the extent that Other is observed to "keep track" of past trans- actions, Person is likely to attribute to him stronger self- maximizing intentions. At low levels of historical concern the graphed relations support the hypothesis. Highest levels of attributed self-maximizing orientation Person generally attributes toward those Others at medium levels of historical concern: that is, those "keeping track about as much as most peOple." An exception is in the low attraction condition where a slightly higher level of self-maximizing orientation is attributed to those relatively non-liked Others displaying the greatest concern for remembering past eI-cchange consequences. Measures of association calculated for the entire lengths of the graphs will conceal the association pattern. one can consider the strength of the positive association at lOWer levels of historical concern since here the relation- ship appears sufficiently linear; and there is a natural transition point at the end of the first derivative at the point where the slope begins to change sign. Measures of e‘ssociation for low levels of historical concern (categories 2‘5) for the self—maximizing orientation by historical QBIticern relation under zero order, low and high attraction QQl'iditions are represented in Table 9. 28 Table 9. Measures of Association for Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern. Context of Relationship Measure of Zero Low High Association Order Attraction Attraction Taub .323 .219 .259 .Asymmetric Soner's dyx .318 .200 .241 The amount of association present with attraction fueld constant at either low or high levels is substantially .leess than in the zero order condition where attraction 'veiries. Therefore some of the association between histori- ,. . v. u .' . . u n‘..: c v"'-\ . ‘A I II) p o “A 30 of the intervening effects of high attraction. Among well- liked Others seen to show more concern than most peOple for the exchange record, these seen by Person to display more concern for the exchange record are likely to be regarded as being less self-maximizing. However, this is not the case for non-liked Others under the same conditions. Let us consider measures of association of the self- Inaximizing orientation by historical concern relationship at liigher levels of historical concern (categories 6-9), that Exortion of the graph having a negative slope. Enable 10. Measures of Association for Self-Maximizing C)r1entation by Historical Concern Relationship at High Levels of Historical Concern. Context of Relationship D’Ieasure of Zero Low High stsociation Order Attraction Attraction Taub -.183 -.062 -.232 1\Symmetric Somer's dyx -.173 -.052 -.209 Unhese data support the conclusion drawn from the graphed 1:‘elationships. There is virtually no association between 1mistorical concern and self-maximizing orientation at high 1'listorica1 concern levels under the low attraction condi- tlion; whereas a strong negative association is observed IInder the high attraction condition. This indicates the j~ntervening effect of high attraction is responsible for the ‘A. .- nu... .n. c .u... .— .u... w. \‘ \ 31 negative association appearing at higher levels of historical concern in the zero order relation. The relationship between historical concern and self- umximizing orientation is drawn more clearly into focus by observing the relationship between self-maximizing orienta- tion and attraction while controlling for the effects of differential concern for remembering the exchange record (historical concern). Figure 7 presents graphs of the self— nmaximizing orientation values plotted across categories of Eittraction. Table 11, 12, and 13 in Appendix F illustrate tflue relation between self-maximizing orientation and attrac- tLion under separate conditions of low, medium and high flistorical concern respectively. The graphs of the self-maximizing orientation by Elttraction relation at different levels of historical Concern provides us with additional insight into the self- IILaximizing orientation by historical concern relation. {IIhroughout all but the very lowest level of attraction, the Strongest self-maximizing intentions are attributed by :E’erson to medium historical concern Others: those whom :E’erson regards as "keeping track about as much as anyone EElse." These cases fell at the apex of the inverted ‘tJ-curves of the self-maximizing orientation by historical (Eoncern order and high attraction graphs in Figure 6. Also suggested by the self-maximizing orientation by Eittraction graphs is that with the exception of the extreme Imigh and low levels of attraction, the high historical 32 --—-Under condition of low HSTCN .-—.-—Under condition of medium HSTCN ---Under condition of high HSTCN ion Ori entat 0 1m 2mg Self -Max 1 § Attraction Nb cw U1 O\b IFigure '7. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under ILowq Medium and High Levels of Historical Concern. 33 concern Others--those perceived by Person to display con- siderable concern for the exchange record, are generally regarded as being more likely to have strong self-maximizing orientation intentions than Others showing little concern. Excluding Others at the lowest levels of attraction, those paying considerable attention to past exchange consequences are generally less self-maximizing than Others revealing average or "normal" degrees of such concern. Hence, Others (iisplaying varying levels of historical concern as seen by lPerson during the course of their transactions may be oth. We have observed the strong negative linear associa- tZion between self-maximizing orientation and attraction. 3Ihet us now turn to the attraction by historical concern Irelationship. Figure 8 illustrates the graphed relationship jthetween attraction and historical concern, and Table 14 in -kapendix F shows in cross-tabular form the data from which 1:he graph was constructed. Mean attraction values are plotted across the his- ‘tomical concern axis forming a flat U-curve pattern. This 'graph is the opposite of the self-maximizing orientation by 34 4(1) 15. .Anmcpo oumNV aboocoo HmOHpOPmHm ho Cowpomhpp< cumocoo HMOMMOpmHm dc\ (N m a no . m mnswwm ,4 q “ r___. UOIloeazmv .I-.O" \ mac-.4 nag- \ Doug... a-np hi“. w... . ‘ l ' D.- (II .— '04-- . .... \ -‘ ~_.'. \ . u“\ '\ .- .. ‘ . A. up. 'n. . ‘ .- "~ :‘ ‘ 35 historical concern inverted U-curve because of the negative association between attraction and self—maximizing orienta- tion. High attraction scores are distributed on the same low and high historical concern values as are the low self- Haximizing orientation scores. Since we can break the attraction by historical concern curve down into two linear slopes of opposite sign; a negative slope at low levels of (historical concern and a positive slope at high levels of historical concern, we can calculate measures of association for each portion of the curve. Table 15. Measures of Association for the Attraction by Historical Concern Relationship Under Low and High Levels Of Historical Concern. gasure of Association Low HSTCN* High HSTCN* '3?an -.257 .180 z¥symmetric Somer's dyx -.217 .157 * Historical Concern Independent of its sign, the attraction by historical con- Qern association is stronger at lower levels of historical Q(:oncern, as is the self-maximizing orientation by historical ‘:=<3ncern association in the zero order, low and high sttrac— tion conditions. We notice that the U-curve form of the é~‘l:.traction curve plotted across the historical concern axis is the inversion of the inverted U—curve of the self- Imaximizing orientation by historical concern relation. This was expected because of the strong negative linear 36 association between attraction and self-maximizing orienta- tion. The inverted U-curve of the self-maximizing orienta- tion by historical concern relation is due to the spurious effect of the association between attraction and self- maximizing orientation, and attraction and historical con- cern. In all control conditions there is a stronger positive association between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation at low levels of historical concern than there .is a negative association at higher levels of historical (Zoncern, since the graph of the attraction by historical (zoncern relation clearly indicates a stronger negative Eissociation at low levels of historical concern than a IPOSitive association at higher levels of historical concern. There is an alternative explanation both for the jgnverted U-curve shape of the self-maximizing orientation by llistorical concern graph, and the U-curve shape of the Elttraction by historical concern relation. It may be the <=ase that whether or not Person perceives Other's increasing <=oncern for remembering the exchange record as a sign of a SBelf-maximization strategy depends upon Person's perceptions (Df'the state of the exchange record. If Person perceives ‘CDther as a "creditor" because Other has given more than IPerson has returned, Person is likely to perceive Other as Ilaving a stronger self-maximizing orientation and will Ciislike Other to the extent that he perceives Other as Ipaying close attention to the exchange record. On the other luand, if the perceived state of the exchange record is in ayn-v 'F .v-t'" ---u , v _ .. . .Q ..-. n..‘_ .- .. -."I u..- . ‘v‘-. o n ‘ n.‘ v. - "A. ‘ n.“- a «- 5:- ‘1' .~ v ‘Q I) ll! § \ ~ 37 Person's favor, so that Other is perceived as a "debtor," then Person is likely to perceive Other as being less self- maximizing and will like Other to the extent that Other is perceived to pay close attention to the exchange record. Hence, Person may expect Other to keep track very closely when Other is regarded as a debtor, and to avoid excessive concern for the exchange record when Other is regarded as a creditor. If this argument is empirically sound, at low levels <>f historical concern where we have found a positive associ- Eition between self-maximizing orientation and historical <2oncern, Other is likely to be perceived as a creditor. At Iiigher levels of historical concern where we found a negative Eissociation between self-maximizing orientation and histori- <2al concern (under zero order and high attraction conditions), CDther is less likely to be perceived as a creditor. We may empirically assess such an anticipation by <=ross-classifying low and high levels of historical concern Eigainst the number of times Other is reported as giving Ilelp, loaning something, and giving an informal gift; and the I)umber of times he is reported as receiving within those Esame spheres of exchange. Table 16 presents such a cross- (classification. Aside from how the data are genuinely and arti- IEactually scewed in favor of Other's giving to Person, let Ids observe the theoretically crucial giving-receiving (differences between low and high historical concern. We see 38 that it is in fact true that Others displaying low historical concern are more likely to be creditors than Others dis- playing high historical concern. Table 16. Person's Perceptions of the Frequency of Other's Giving and Receiving by Historical Concern. Historical Concern Low High Other's Giving 642 1322 1964 Frequency 73.7% 69.0% Other's Receiving 241 594 835 Frequency 27.3% 31.0% 883 1916 N=2799 100% 100% If Person perceives Other as a creditor, and if Other :is seen to pay very little attention to the exchange record, 1:hen he is likely to be attributed a low self-maximizing (orientation. In other words, exchange creditors are most Zlikely to be those Others Person perceives to display low laistorical concern, and low self-maximizing orientation; and Ileast likely to be Others Person perceives to display high laistorical concern, and high self-maximizing orientation. We <:an assess the empirical soundness of this assertion by Imabhuya crosspartition of self-maximizing orientation by ihistorical concern and calculating a ratio of giving to ’ng... auvv< I .- oo- '- - n a. . a . .‘og‘ .- n o. .. .‘-- cg... ‘la o '« n- . o.‘ x.: Ill '1 (1) 5|; ll: . " I a”: V‘ I 'I. . ‘D . , . 39 receiving for the Others included in each of the cells and in the marginals. Table 17. Pefison's Perceptions of Other's Ratio of Giving to Receiving Under Conditions of Self—Maximizing Orienta- tion and Historical Concern. Historical Concern Low High Low 3.02 2.61 2.72 High 2.42 1.88 2.06 Self-Maximizing Orientation The give-receive ratio is higher under conditions of .1ow historical concern with low self-maximizing orientation; iand is the lowest under high historical concern with high aself-maximizing orientation. This is what we expected. From ‘the cross-classified give-receive ratios we can clearly see 'that Others keeping track very little of the exchange record .are more likely to give more and receive less (be perceived .as a creditor) than Others more inclined to pay attention to “the exchange record. This is evident in the difference Ibetween the give—receive ratios in the column marginals: 2.70 for low historical concern and 2.27 for high historical concern. Table 17 also demonstrates the validity of the self- maximizing orientation indicator. Independent of the level , n I. I'- \ g. “on ‘ ‘0'. v- u Ivvi 5|. "I -5 .. -o‘ ‘. I, . ' — _. ..._ ». 40 of historical concern, Others attributed strong self“ maximizing orientation intentions are more likely to have a lower give-receive ratio than is the case for Others attrib- uted weak self-maximizing orientation intentions. This is shown in the difference between the give-receive ratios in the rwo marginals: 2.72 for low selfemaximizing orientation and 2.06 for high self-maximizing orientation. The effect of visiting common structural density upon the self-maximising orientation by historical concern relation As shown in Figure 9 there is a substantial positive linear association between visiting common structural den- sity and attraction. The graph plots mean visiting common structural density values across attraction categories. To see how the actual distribution of visiting common struc- tural density varies with low and high categories of attrac- tion observe Table 19. Since there is a substantial positive association between visiting common structural density and attraction, we will assess the effect of visiting common structural density upon the self-maximizing Iorientation by historical concern relation while holding attraction constant. First let us consider the effect of visiting common Eitructural density upon the historical concern-self- rmaximizing orientation relationship by holding it constant 5112 low attraction and observing differences between low and .Anoouo cthv COflpomMPp< mo thmCmQ Annaposhpm :oEEoo wowpflmfi> . m cospomnpp< a m N H 4\O (W muswflm 41 j on. mm. oo.H mN.H om.H mm.H oo.N mm.m ‘ s3 Kitsuaq Iainioniis uowmoo ButitstA '9: a... ‘v- -. 'n.-. o-_.. .v.. ‘O. _ v.“ I '1’ '\ (IV 42 high visiting common structural density curves. Figure 10 illuminates these relationships. Table 20 shows the self- maximizing orientation by historical concern relation under low attraction with high visiting common structural density and Table 21 shows the historical concern-self-maximizing orientation relation under low attraction with low visiting common structural density. Under the low attraction, low visiting common struc- tural density condition the graph of the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern relationship lepe changes sign at a lower level of historical concern than in any of the graphs we have examined up to this point. As we shall soon see this phenomenon occurs in the high attraction, low visiting common structural density condition as well. Hence, it must be due to the special effects of low visiting common structural density and is independent of attraction. Under the low attraction, high visiting common structural density condition the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern inverted U-curve disappears; at low levels of historical concern, and at higher historical con- cern levels it turns into a sequence of up and down fluctuations indicating virtually little consistent associa- tion and perhaps a weak negative association. Let us consider measures of association at low historical concern levels of the self-maximizing orientation by historical Concern curve under the conditions of low attraction with 130th low and high visiting common structural density. '2 .spamch sunsposnpm :oESoo mcapama> awam and zoo anon apaz soap somupp< 30A mo macapwncoo vowed have: snoosoo Hmoflnopmam ho soapmufistHSIMme .oa muswfim cnmosoo HMOHnOPmHm m m N. 0 m 3 m N _ d '1 d I + ‘ T I [- O % amo> awn: ass: zme< 30H to mcoapaccoo nmoqpnu.u.u : T. amo> 30H spas zme< 30H to mconpaccoo smacollllnu n. zme< 30H no coapaacoo umacpnu.uu. m Anmoho opmuv coapfivcoo Heywooo o: pooco...... . u .. m. 3 o. o . 1m m. 4 0-: 03 O I To 9 k w o a 1. .L. O U .N. _ a .."V t‘.. ..__ H". .'. u...‘ u I" a \ u Ah 'u s . .~ r s ‘\ ' . . 44 Table 22. Measures of Association of the Self-Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern under the Condition of Low Attraction with Both Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density. Measure of Zero Low Low ATRN* Low ATRN* Association Order ATRN* Low VCSD** High VCSD** Taub .323 .219 .255 .170 Asymmetric Somer's dyx .327 .200 .226 .157 *Attraction **Visiting Common Structural Density It is clear that a substantially higher association exists between historical concern and self-maximizing orien- tation at low levels of historical concern under the low attraction, low visiting common structural density condition than under the low attraction, high visiting common struc- tural density condition. According to the data, among non- liked Others whom Person perceives to "keep track of the day— to-day give and take" less than most Others, if there are no friends visited by both Person and Other, the more likely Person is to perceive greater concern for the exchange record as a sign of self-maximizing exchange behavior. And under the same set of conditions if there are one or more friends visited by both Person and Other, the less Person is likely to regard Other's increasing concern for remembering past transaction consequences as indicating self-maximizing intentions. .. '0 \ u.--— ,, no a u. a a-.. u. .1. Q ~ . a “‘ p U a._ u‘ \- .,_ -. . a s‘u-‘ '4 ”.- .5"- 45 Let us now consider measures of association at high historical concern levels of the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern negatively sloping curve under the conditions of low attraction with both low and high visiting common structural density. Table 23. Measures of Association of Self-Maximizing Orien- tation by Historical Concern Relation at High Levels of Historical Concern under the Condition of Low Attraction with Both Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density. Measure of Zero Low Low ATRN* Low ATRN* Association Order ATRN* Low VCSD** High VCSD** Taub -.183 -.062 -.127 -.067 Asymmetric Somer's dyx -.l73 -.052 -.109 -.056 *Attraction **Visiting Common Structural Density We notice that under the low attraction, low visiting common structural density condition there is approximately twice as strong a negative association than under the low attraction, high visiting common structural density condition. But here we are dealing with very weak negative associations between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation. From the viewpoint of avoiding the disruption of exchange relations with non-liked Others by minimizing the likelihood of per- ceptions of self-maximizing orientation intentions during the exchange process, from the data it appears that it is . 1.1-? .— 0. o-- no--. ~ -. u. . . .... 2 "‘ ~A .u .‘ a O \— n ‘- ‘- A . l a‘ v 61“. . . H ~ _ 3 It. i 46 wiser for Person to display concern for the exchange record under low visiting common structural density than under high visiting common structural density. Hence, among non-liked Others, independent of level of historical concern and the sign of the relationship, there is a stronger association between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation when Person and Other have no common visiting partners than when they have one or more. It appears that exchange memory is more important in regu- lating exchange relations between non-liked transactors in low structural density zones of an exchange network than in higher density zones. The presence of common visited friends between non-liking transactors provides a structurally- situated, natural, "third party" (Nadel: 1957) transaction monitoring system. This, in turn, makes it less necessary for transactors individually to rely upon excessive concern for the exchange record with regard to particular Others. The data support this argument. Let us now consider what happens under the condition of high attraction. Under the condition of high attraction we noticed several differences in the shape of the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern curve at different levels of visiting common structural density. Observe Figure 11. Cross-tabulated data for the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern relation under high attraction with low ‘visiting common structural density is in Table 24, and with luigh visiting common structural density in Table 25. _~.~.—.~ pas—3 7~vaLi< -.\—.~ .M.u u-~.-— . .u..~au.u -u.\~....~lll|ll 7~v~.-.< -.\n.~ .5 A» .~..»— . u..-.v.fiv c~.-..-.|OIIII . ‘Iloiiusloi nvvltivsV nunv- .Ihu-hoi.v flail. Inn...- uv-n ..c§-I§\~- 47 .spflmcma sunsposupm coesoo mcapama> swam can seq span and; soapomhpp< awn: mo uncapwocoo pcflOh Moos: Chmocoo HMOHQOPmHm an COHPMPCmHno msauwefixmznmamm .HH onsmHm Chooseo HmowMOPmfim m w m o m a m N _ ‘ ‘ I C I . a; IXBW-JIBS Iztm i'e guano Bu , \A HOT v:.an..¢.¢-u..u..b.a- 1% omo> 30a spa: zme< am“: no mcoapficcoo Amocollllll omo> awn: spa: zms< awn; mo mcoapaacoo nmacsnnuuun zma< swan mo coapaccoo hoocoll.ll. Ahooho ououv Cowpwocoo Hohpcoo on hot: ...... .- u- ‘ u “n. i I. ‘II (II 3 IA— \ ugvb. . n... - V...“ ... v... a no... ‘v-~ ‘0.- - 'U “‘. ‘A 'v 48 The inverted U-curve shape persists at high attraction, independent of the effects of visiting common structural density. At low levels of historical concern the positive slope of the high attraction, low visiting common structural density graph is considerably greater than the lepes of either high attraction graph or the high attraction, high visiting common structural density graph. High visiting common structural density under the condition of high attraction has the effect of decreasing the slope of the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern curve at lower levels of historical concern. According to these data if low historical concern Others reveal increasingly more concern for past transaction consequences, Person is likely to perceive stronger self- maximizing orientation intentions underlying transactions of well-liked Others if Person and Other have no friends in common than if they have one or more friends in common. (Persons having no visiting partners in common were assigned to low visiting common structural density while persons having one or more visitors in common were assigned to the high visiting common structural density category.) Among high attraction transactors, at low levels of historical concern, keeping track may only appear to be regarded as more self-maximizing under low visiting common structural density than under high visiting common structural density conditions, because Person is more reluctant to attribute (self-maximizing intentions to well-liked Others if they have ~-—- '7‘. . on...“ ._ ‘ v 0-. - a..- I" 6.... ‘Q a i.' ~- ‘ \ ‘5 49 several friends in common than if they have few friends in common. If Person, while transacting with Other, notices Other's high concern for remembering the outcomes of past transactions, Person is likely to hesitate to attribute self- maximizing intentions to Other if they have several friends in common. If he attributes self-maximizing tendencies to Other in the presence of one of their mutual friends he increases the level of dissonance-induced tension experienced by the mutual friend. Since there is a strong negative association between the self-maximizing orientation exchange strategy and liking, the mutual friend will reduce dis- sonance by redefining Other negatively; redefining Person negatively for attributing such dreadful things to his friend (Other); or will sever the Heiderian unit relation (the perceived connection) between the self-maximizing act and Other by denying that the episode happened as Person interpreted it. Also very apparent in the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern graph under high attraction and low visiting common structural density as compared with the high attraction, high visiting common structural density condition is the different location on the X axis of the transition point at which the slope of the graphs change their sign. The positive slope stops and shifts to a negative sign at a lower level of historical concern under the high attraction, low visiting common structural density condition. We ,.-- .aw‘ .v v §“- vd.o ~~.. 'I..- Wu) ~ .0! til (I! .‘A u ‘v. 50 recall this was also the case in the low attraction, low visiting common structural density condition. The highest level of attributed self-maximizing orientation occurs at a lower level of historical concern under the low visiting common structural density condition independent of the effects of attraction. This would mean Person tolerates Other's increasing concern for past transaction outcomes more when they do not have any close friends in common than if they were to have several in common. And Person is less tolerant of Other dis— playing increasing concern for the exchange record when they have one or more friends in common. (See Figure 14 which highlights this finding.) As we have done for the other inverted U-curve relations, let us consider measures of association calculated for the low historical concern por- tions of the curves; that is, the positive-sloped linear segments. Table 26. Measures of Association of Self-Maximizing Orien- tation by Historical Concern Relation at Low Levels of Historical Concern. Context of the Relationship Measure of Zero High High ATRN* High ATRN* Association Order ATRN* Low VCSD** High VCSD** Taub .323 .259 .506 .281 Asymmetric Somer's dyx .318 .241 .481 .255 *Attraction **Visiting Common Structural Density cod. .9. ‘Obj c u.. ‘cv Ivs. . u“? D 1 II ..~ 51 Under the high attraction, low visiting common structural density conditions at low levels of historical concern, we observe the strongest association between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation. It is clear that if exchange relations are to remain stable under such condi- tions, transactors are expected to avoid paying attention to the exchange record. The large difference between high attraction values and high attraction, low visiting common structural density values is a measure of the contribution of the low visiting common structural density context to the association. At higher levels of historical concern under high attraction conditions, there is a negatively sloping portion of the curve. Visiting common structural density does not appear to effect the shape of the curve at higher levels of historical concern. With the exception of a very minor fluctuation both the low and high visiting common structural density negative portions of the curve are similar in slope along the historical concern values. Let us consider measures of association calculated for the higher levels of historical concern. We notice a slightly stronger association between self-maximizing orientation and historical concern when visiting common structural density is low as compared to when it is high. t‘n nu. trx: ' i t.. \w I‘ 52 Table 27. Measures of Association for the Self—Maximizing Orientation by Historical Concern Relation at Higher Levels of Historical Concern. Measure of High.ATRN* High.ATRN* Association High.ATRN* LOW'VCSD** 'High VCSD** Taub -.232 —.267 -.277 Asymmetric Somer's d -.209 -.250 —.233 yx *Attraction **Visiting Common Structural Density Table 28 summarizes the analysis of the asserted direct relation between historical concern and self— maximizing orientation. The unexpected inverted U-curve clearly refutes the third hypothesis. One interesting finding is that independent of the level of historical concern and visiting common structural density, the self-maximizing orientation by historical con- cern association is always stronger under high.attraction than under low attraction. However, given the inverted U-curve shape, the sign of the association is positive at low levels of historical concern and negative under high. levels of historical concern. A second finding is that independent of both the level of historical concern and attraction, the association between self—maximizing orientation and historical concern is always stronger when visiting common structural density is low than when it is high. Once again, given the inverted 5“ 53 Table 28. Measures of Association Summarizing the Relation Between Self-Maximizing Orientation and Historical Concern.* Zero Order Low HSTCN .318 Low ATRN Low High HSTCN HSTCN .200 -.052 Low ATRN Low ATRN Low VCSD High VCSD Low High Low High HSTCN HSTCN HSTCN HSTCN .226 -.109 .157 -.056 * Measure of aSSOCiation High HSTCN --173 High ATRN Low High HSTCN HSTCN .241 -.209 High ATRN High ATRN Low VCSD High VCSD Low High Low High HSTCN HSTCN HSTCN HSTCN .481 “.250 0255 -0233 is asymmetric Somer's dyx' 54 U—curve shape of the graph the sign of the relation is dif- ferent at low and high levels of historical concern. Now that we have analyzed the very complex relation- ship between self-maximizing orientation and historical con- cern, let us turn to the fourth and final hypothesis in this study. The relation between visiting common structural density and self— maximizing orientation In the fourth hypothesis we asserted a negative, linear relationship between visiting common structural den- sity as the independent variable and selfemaximizing orienta- tion as a dependent variable. We have already seen evidence of the substantial positive association between attraction and visiting common structural density (see Figure 9). we have also seen the strong negative linear association between attraction and self-maximizing orientation (see Figure 3). Given these relationships it will be necessary to examine the associa- tion between visiting common structural density and selfe maximizing orientation while controlling for the effects of attraction. Figure 12 illustrates the selfamaximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relationship under the zero order (no control) condition and under conditions of low and high attraction. The cross~tabulated data from which the graphs in Figure 12 were constructed are included nuqv u .- Inuu unfit —-!..v visa-us — :h I XiRTCI.‘ ‘va1.: 55 .....Under no control condition (zero order) Under condition of low ATRN ———Under condition of high ATRN 4+++fPortion of curve unreliable, based upon few cases 8. 7 S: 0 W4 P (U +3 5 a: 6r o .. no 1 ’~. : ~. 0H .~ N .0. .o. a -- ------- O; 5) ...-. ........ . m F~.. EI ~‘x “’4 H -‘*—‘ O) U) “r OI A A A a l - 2 3 4 Visiting Common Structural Density Figure 12. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Control Conditions of High and Low Attraction. 56 as Tables 29, 30 and 31 in Appendix F. In the zero order and low attraction condition we observe a sharp U-curve, but under the high attraction condition we detect only the faintest impression of a U-curve pattern. The graphs sug- gest that while the number of persons visited by both Person and Other ranges from zero to two, increasing visiting common structural density is negatively associated with attributed self-maximizing orientation, and the association is sub- stantially stronger when Other is relatively non-liked. When visiting common structural density goes beyond two persons, we notice a sudden shift in the sign of the lepe, indicating the beginning of a positive association between visiting common structural density and self-maximizing orientation. This transition point is clearly evident under the zero order and low attraction conditions; whereas it is less noticeable under the high attraction condition. Let us compare measures of association for the nega- tively $10ping linear portion of the curves for zero order, low and high attraction conditions of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation— ship since the sign of the slope of the different graphs changes at the same transition point on the visiting common structural density axis. Under both low and high attraction control conditions the association is somewhat less than that in the zero order relation where attraction varies. In the zero order relation some of the apparent association is the anticipated 57 Table 32. Measures of Association for the Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density Relation from 0-2 Visiting Common Structural Density under Conditions of Low and High Attraction, and the Zero Order (No Control). Measures of Zero Low High Association Order ATRN* ATRN* Taub —.l78 -.124 -.107 Asymmetric Somer's d -.189 -.116 -.102 yx *Attraction spurious effect due to the association by both visiting common structural density and self-maximizing orientation with attraction. However, we do notice the independent association between visiting common structural density and self—maximizing orientation accounts for over half of the zero order association. Both the graphs and statistical evidence supports the asserted negative self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density association between visiting common structural density zero and two, independent of attraction. Perhaps we can assess more precisely the effect of attraction upon the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation by observing the self- maximizing orientation by attraction association under con- ditions of low and high visiting common structural density. The vertical separation (self-maximizing orientation dif- ference) between the low and high visiting common structural density curves is a good indicator of the association 58 between self-maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density. Let us observe Figure 13. Cross— tabulated data are included in Table 33 and 34 in Appendix F. It is apparent that the low visiting common struc- tural density curve is above (at a higher level of self- maximizing orientation) than the high visiting common structural density curve with the exception of the extreme low and high levels of the attraction scale. A skeptical interpretation of this graph would focus attention to the points along the attraction axis where there does not appear to be a difference between the low and high visiting common structural density graphs. One could just as easily find evidence to refute the asserted negative self—maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density association in this graph. Considering the locations of the points of convergence and divergence, however, it does seem that self- maximizing orientation has a weak negative relation to visiting common structural density when transactors are neither especially non-liked nor especially liked. Let us consider the relationship between self- maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density when the density score extends beyond two persons. The sudden shift to a positive lepe when density values increase beyond two persons is very puzzling. It is obvious that the intervening effect of low attraction plays a very salient part in the sudden shift of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common 59 Under condition of low VCSD __—Under condition of high VCSD Self-Maximizing Orientation E L 1 2 3 4 5 6 Attraction Figure 13 . Self-Maximizing Orientation by Attraction under Conditions of Low and High Visiting Common Structural Density. 60 Table 35. Measures of Association for Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density Relation for Visiting Common Structural Density Ranging from 2-4 Persons Under Zero Order, Low and High Attraction Conditions. Measures of Zero Low High Association Order ATRN* 'ATRN* Taub .041 .209 .036 Asymmetric Somer's d .043 .217 .035 yx *Attraction structural density curve to a positive slope after visiting common structural density equals two persons. Virtually no association appears under the zero order and high attraction conditions, but we observe a substantial association when Person is relatively non-liked. If Other is not especially liked by Person as more than two persons are included in their visiting cliques, Person is evidently likely to per— ceive selfdmaximizing motives in Other's transactions. The pattern of the graphs and even the very weak positive association under the zero order and high attraction suggests that a certain tension is present when visiting cliques expand beyond four persons. The substantial positive association between visiting common structural density and self-maximizing orientation under the low attraction condi- tion suggests that low attraction provides the necessary precipitating context dramatically increasing the likelihood of Person perceiving self—maximizing orientation intentions to motivate Other's transactions. 61 Let us now assess the effect historical concern has on the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern relation. We may indirectly observe the negative association between visiting common structural density and self- maximizing orientation which is independent of attraction by examining the self-maximizing orientation by historical con- cern graphs which hold attraction constant and displays the self-maximizing orientation level at low and high levels of visiting common structural density. The extent to which low visiting common structural density graphs are above the high visiting common structural density graphs in reference to the self-maximizing orientation axis, there is evidence of negative association between visiting common structural den- sity and self-maximizing orientation. Let us observe the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern graphs first under low attraction with low and high visiting common structural density. If the reader will turn back to Figure 10, we will see that the low attraction, low visiting common structural density graph is clearly above the low attraction, high visiting common structural density graph at lower levels of historical concern. Hence, toward relatively non-liked Others paying less than normal amounts of concern for the exchange record, Person is likely to perceive stronger self-maximizing orientation intentions in Others with whom he has no visiting partners in common than in Others with whom he has one or more in common. High visiting common 62 structural density clearly suppresses self-maximizing orien— tation perceptions toward Others not especially liked who keep track less than most people. Assuming Person's perception of Other's exchange tendencies are accurate, Other is less likely to engage in a self-maximizing orientation exchange strategy with non-liked persons showing little concern for the exchange record if he has one or more visiting partners in common with him. But at higher levels of historical concern, the low attraction high visiting common structural density graph appears to be consistently above the low attraction, low visiting common structural density graph indicating the shift to a positive self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density association. Hence, at low levels of historical concern there is a negative association between visiting common structural density and self—maximizing orientation but at high levels of historical concern there is a positive association between visiting common structural density and self-maximizing orientation. Observe the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern curves in Figure 11 to indirectly examine the self- maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation under the condition of high attraction with both low and high visiting common structural density. With the exception of the very lowest value of historical concern the high attraction, low visiting common structural density curve is clearly above and at a stronger self-maximizing 63 orientation level than the high attraction, high visiting common structural density curve. Under high attraction the evidence supports the asserted negative association between the extent of visiting common structural density and likeli- hood of Person perceiving self-maximizing orientation behavior in Other. Under the high attraction condition, the self- maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation did not appear to have the same transition point as it did under the low attraction condition. Throughout all but the lowest level of historical concern the high attrac- tion, low visiting common structural density curve is consistently above the high attraction, high visiting common structural density curve. This separation by vertical dis- tance indirectly indicates the extent of association between visiting common structural density and self-maximizing orientation. We can more directly observe the effects of the level of historical concern on the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density in Figure 14. Cross- tabulated data are included in Table 36 and 37 in Appendix F. This is perhaps the most dramatic finding in the study. It is clear that the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation is definitely affected by the extent to which Other keeps track of exchange flows. The negative lepe of the low historical concern condition is consistent with our findings based on the vertical Self-Maximizing Orientation 64 Under condition of low HSTCN —--Under condition of high HSTCN ’. I I I I __-/ 3 r I E 3 L1 Visiting Common Structural Density Figure 14. Self—Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Conditions of Low and High Histor- ical Concern. 65 separation (self-maximizing orientation distance) between the self-maximizing orientation by historical concern graphs under low and high visiting common structural density. The graphs suggest that as visiting common structural density increases, transactors are expected to pay less attention to the exchange record. Since we know attraction is associated with both self-maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density, let us see how historical concern affects this relationship, while holding attraction constant. Figure 15 presents graphs of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density under joint conditions of low attraction, high historical concern. The cross-tabulated data are in Table 40 and 41 in Appendix F. Under conditions of low attraction, high historical concern (non-liked Others keeping track more than most people), there is virtually no association between self- maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density between visiting common structural density values zero through two, but when Person and Other's visiting network overlaps to the extent of three mutually visited individuals, we notice a sudden increase in the level of attributed self- maximizing orientation. Under the low attraction, low his- torical concern condition (non-liked Others "keeping track less than most pe0ple") there is a negative association between self-maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density. 66 Under conditions of low ATRN and low HSTCN ——-Under conditions of low ATRN and high HSTCN 8 V I / ./ / / c ,3 7 / +3 ’*—_—-/ m .— .p c Q) 0". 8 6» 29 0H N or! E «4 x .53 . 5) 4. r4 0) m -— OT A ‘ . j 1 2 3 L. Visiting Common Structural Density Figure 15. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of Low Attraction with Low and High Historical Concern. 67 Figure 16 presents the graphs of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relation under conditions of high attraction with both low and high historical concern. Cross-tabulated data are included as Tables 43 and 44 in Appendix F. Other than for the sur- prising finding of a transition point where Person and Other's visiting network overlaps to the extent of one mutu- ally visited individual,self-maximizing orientation and visiting common structural density has a negative association under the high attraction, low historical concern condition and other than for this peculiar transition, where visiting common structural density equals one point under the high attraction condition with both low and high historical con- cern, the evidence suggests that independent of the effects of attraction, the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common structural density relationship is positive under conditions of high historical concern and negative under con- ditions of low historical concern. If we assume that the frequency with which Person attributes strong self—maximizing intentions to Other represents a threat to the continuity of their exchange relation, then one effect of visiting common structural density is to present a social structure atmosphere con- ditioning transactors to pay less attention to the exchange record. In all cases where visiting common structural density increases beyond one mutually visited individual, Self-Maximizing Orientation 68 Under conditions of high ATRN with low HSTCN --n-Under conditions of high ATRN with high HSTCN A 1 5 3 1 Visiting Common Structural Density Figure 16. Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under Joint Conditions of High Attraction with Low and High Historical Concern. ”It .. '1 .— iv.- '1. .— v-- 69 the extent to which transactors are perceived to display con- cern for the exchange record they are attributed stronger self-maximizing orientation intentions. CHAPTER III SUMMARY OF RESULTS AND CONCLUSION The first hypothesis asserted an inverse relation between the range of exchange content as the independent variable and self—maximizing orientation as the dependent variable. The hypothesis assumed transactors would encounter difficulty in calculating "profit" because exchange contents would be incommensurable. A substantial negative association under no control conditions was later found to be a consequence of the intervening effect of high attraction. Transactors are unwilling to self-maximize against the interests of Others who like them, for fear of losing positive regard. The unwillingness to incur the costs of losing friendship accounts for the negative association between the range of exchange content and self—maximizing orientation (see Figure 4). The findings in this study coorborate Blau's argu- ment that extrinsic exchange is merely a means of expressing and winning intrinsic attachment. However, the inverse relation between self-maximizing orientation and attraction 70 71 can also be explained with attraction as an independent variable, using a balance theory argument. For instance, if Person likes Other, dislikes self-maximizing acts, and then knowingly selfdmaximizes against Other's interests, he will be in a state of dissonance. To avoid dissonance, Person is likely to not self—maximize against well-liked Others. It may be the case that as the range of exchange content expands between two transactors they are likely to develop a high level of attraction. Assuming the range of exchange content is the predictor variable, and attrac- tion the dependent variable, asymmetric Somer's dyx = -27. We can expect Person to like those Others perceived as a source of many different kinds of rewards. In future analysis, I shall examine the relation between the range of exchange content and attraction while holding interac- tion frequency and cognitive similarity constant. At the zero order, range of exchange content appears to be a better predictor of attraction than interaction frequency (dyx = .20). The second hypothesis asserting an inverse relation between the range of exchange content as the predictor variable and historical concern as the dependent variable was refuted by the evidence. We assumed the qualitative diversity and sheer volume of exchange content would precipitate an interference phenomenon inhibiting retention of past transactions. Even though the diversity and 72 frequency of stimuli are variables producing interference which does inhibit memory, it did not occur in the exchange settings we studied. In the community of Finn River the focus was upon inter-household transactions over the course of one year. There simply was not enough exchange between households to inundate the information—processing capacities of the transactors. As it turned out, 91% of the 1,741 exchange relations in the sample had range of exchange content values of eight or less. And since these transactions were spread over the course of a one year interval, the inter- ference effect was unlikely. In spite of this clear refutation by the systematic evidence, I still believe there are some social relation— ships in which there is a sufficient range and volume of exchange content transacted to produce the interference effect. Several naturalistic observations supported the hypothesis, and a few respondents commented while estimating the extent to which Other keeps track, "We help each other in so many ways we don't even bother to keep track." Such inter-household exchange relationships in Finn River and probably in many communities are rather rare. It is my impression that such wide range and high volume of exchange content flows are generally found within households. I could not obtain these kinds of data within the community of Finn River because of norms which emphasize the privacy of exchanges within the nuclear family. 73 The third hypothesis asserted a direct relation between historical concern as the predictor variable and self-maximizing orientation as the dependent variable. The evidence refuted the hypothesis; the relationship appeared in the form of an inverted U-curve. One explanation of the inverted U-curve shape is in terms of the effects of Person's perceptions of the state of the exchange record. If an Other is perceived as an exchange "creditor," that is, if Person feels as though he "owes" Other, then to the extent that Other is perceived to keep track of the exchange record, he is seen as self-maximizing and is disliked. Whereas, if Others are seen as "debtors," that is, Person feels as if they "owe" him, then to the extent that "debtor" Others keep track they are seen as less self-maximizing and are liked. The data support this argument (see Tables 16, 17, and 18), but there are certain problems with the data. Reporting of transactions is skewed in approximately a ratio of 2:1 in favor of reporting exchange content receiVed as opposed to reporting exchange content giygn: Further work is needed to take into account monetary reciprocation in the calculation of giving/receiving ratios. A computer program now almost completed will compare Person and Other's reports of transactions in their questionnaires and "correct" the errors of omission. Then I shall reanalyze the exchange ratio data. 74 Another problem in relating the giving/receiving ratio data to the data based on Person‘s judgements of Other's exchange tendencies is the fact that the judgemental data were collected almost one year later. The giving/ receiving balance could very easily have been altered in some exchange relationships. The comparison assumes the initial exchange flows detected have a consistent balance pattern. Both Homans and Blau argue that over time certain rather constant rates of exchange are established between transactors (Homans, 1961: 55; Blau, 1967: 151). An alternative explanation of the inverted U-curve shape is based on ethnographic data. In Finn River I have repeatedly heard persons complaining in a mood of mild discontent about not being able to reciprocate with certain people because they always insist upon "paying you back twofold." Some persons keep track very closely of exchanges for the explicit purpose of making sure they always are giving more than their share. There are quite a few of these people in Finn River and they disturb their friends and neighbors because they often deny them the opportunity to reciprocate. The motivations attributed to practi- tioners of this exchange style are consistent with the self-reports of these transactors. Persons keeping track excessively for the purpose of making sure "they are always on the giving end," say they are (and are said to be) "too independent and don't 75 like the feeling of owing anybody anything." Such trans- actors associate with exchange obligations a mild sense of servitude, an obligation to display deference which they find distasteful. The "too independent" transactors may be following a general exchange strategy or may only experience a dis- tasteful sense of servitude toward particular Others. Status-inconsistent transactors may have their self-concept at stake in these kinds of situations, and the costs in terms of humiliation may be more than they wish to endure. Or, the relative status of the giver and receiver may have effects here (Blau, 1967) . If Person perceives Other ambiguously regarding their relative status (that is, Other may be sorted into the "grey" area between superiority and equality), then Person may not wish to incur an obliga— tion to Other, in order to avoid acknowledging his super- iority. These issues will be dealt with in future research. Another motivation attributed to transactors dis~ playing high concern for exchange flows in order to g_i_._\L_e_ more than they have received is that "They don't want any-a body to be able to say they have not been fair." Evidently transactors, either as a general exchange strategy or some only as an exchange mode with particular kinds of Others, want to preserve a good exchange reputation in the com- munity- They are Willing to, give more than they receive as a longer range investment in their exchange performance reputation. The extent to which this is a general exchange 76 strategy or one geared to particular Others will have to be investigated in future research. Such transactors may be more likely to incur short-run losses as a "hedge" against the possibility of untrustworthyOther's post-transaction complaints about their exchange performance. There were two consistent findings related to the relation between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation. Independent of the effects of all control variables employed in the analysis, the association between historical concern and self-maximizing orientation was always stronger under the condition of high attraction; and also stronger under the condition of lgw_visiting common structural density. However, given the inverted U—curve shape of the graphed relation, the association was positive at low levels of historical concern and negative at high levels of historical concern. I suspect that at low levels of historical concern ‘Mhere the association between historical concern and self- mEizrcimizing orientation is positive and stronger under the Condition of high attraction the stronger association is ‘jillfie to a violation of exchange expectations. When high- Eift31traction Others display high concern for the exchange 'Ir‘sitcord they are likely to Violate Person's expectations that ‘JLJrlftrinsic rewards are primary in the relationship. This may ];>J:?‘t:-J:1er negatively and attribute strong self—maximizing inten- tions to Other . I: 77 Other is expected to enjoy interacting with Person somewhat independent of the consequences of transactions. It is Other's particularistic preference for Person which supplies Other with intrinsic satisfaction (Blau, 1964: 34). The stability of the exchange relation is based upon the intrinsic satisfaction mutually given exchange partners by the presence of the particular person in the relationship. Material exchange content transacted in such relationships is expected to play an incidental role in the relationship. Self-management strategies of the transactors are especially important in high attraction relationships such as these. The allocation of attention during the course of interaction operates as a signal, a very subtle cue indi- cating intentions of the transactors. In exchanges with .high attraction incumbents it is necessary to direct one's arttention upon the subject matter of conversation and 1T€3veal pleasure upon encountering one another as agreers meeting in the same areas of liking and disliking. One is e-"‘Ilntent, but to almost ignore it. If Person borrows some- ‘t:1:lling and is returning it, Other will say, "Oh! I completely :E‘:>Jrgot about it." If Person expresses gratitude for having 112‘Ewceived help, Other is expected to dismiss it as not having been any trouble, or to say, "It was nothing. Forget it." 78 On the other hand if a wellnliked, low historical concern Other pays more attention to past transaction con— sequences he sends a message to Person indicating that it is not just Person as a particular individual that he is interested in but the consequences of the material exchange content flow. As Other shows more concern for the exchange record, Person is likely to perceive Other's primary interest to lie not in interaction with him as a valued person per se but in the flow of exchange content between them. Other is displaying different priorities than Person's, by allocating increasing attention to the non- intrinsic exchange benefits. No interpretation is offered at higher levels of historical concern,where the association between historical «concern and self-maximizing orientation is stronger under Iligh attraction,but the sign is negative. The discovery of a stronger association between historical concern and self—maximizing orientation under $11523! visiting common structural density suggests there may Lia‘s: two different kinds of exchange systems Operating. If we make the reasonable assumption that trans- ‘El‘:=itors expect equity or fairness in their transactions, ‘t;]:lrientation. A surprising observation in Figure 12 is the change 4i~11 slope of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting Q<>Inmon structural density graph at the point where the lat‘ctmber of mutually-visited persons equals two. If it is ‘E:the case that among Person, Other and the mutually visited Ig"5:rsons, virtually everyone visits everyone else; what we I‘lisLy be observing is a structural limit upon the size of s3‘tzable visiting clusters. Given the time requirements of ‘tllle visiting ritual, there may be limits on the number of Q‘thers Person can maintain in his visiting network. As the 82 number of mutually visited Others increases, Person may encounter difficulties in fulfilling visiting obligations. It may become increasingly difficult for Person to conceal his affective preferences because the Others he does not visit will learn that Person did seem to find the time to visit some people. This may produce resentment and a redefinition of Person's exchange intentions as being self-maximizing. From the graph in Figure 12, it appears that the upper size limit of stable visiting clusters may be four persons. As the clusters get larger, it appears as if non-liked Others are increasingly likely to be attributed self-maximizing intentions. This ad hoc comment on the puzzling change in sign (of the self-maximizing orientation by visiting common estructural density graph will certainly require a more .Elrecise delineation of affective cliques, and a comparison <>:f affective clique size, with Person's perceptions of Other's exchange tendencies. The data at this point merely suggest the possibility that Person's failure to fulfill vi siting obligations may produce resentment in Other, which IT‘iElzy negatively alter Other's perception of Person's exchange bQrformance. The most interesting finding in this study is the- 'E>‘=>sitive relation between self—maximizing orientation and \'*5~siting common structural density under the condition of Eljugh historical concern and a negative relation under the 83 condition of low historical concern (see Figure 14). This again supports the idea that a Levi-Straussian generalized exchange system may emerge under high affective density conditions. Persons keeping close track of exchange content transfers with regard to particular Others may be seen as violating the exchange norms associated with a generalized exchange system, and are regarded as self-maximizing. As the affective density increases, Others displaying high concern for the exchange record in diadic transactions are regarded as increasingly self-maximizing. Whereas, as affective density increases, Others paying little attention to the exchange record in diadic transactions are regarded as increasingly less self-maximizing. The data certainly suggest a possible emergence of {generalized exchange under high affective density condi- tLions. Once again this will require a more precise (italineation of clique structures and a comparison of density "Eilues within different cliques with the exchange percep- tions and behaviors of the clique members. \Qanlusion Social exchange is a far more complex phenomenon i:Jt1uan I originally expected. Linear modes of thought and Eiqtlualysis are inadequate for dealing with the complicated ‘c=‘ulrvilinear relationships discovered in the analysis. It tzfirtainly seems as if the relationships are far too ‘3S3mplicated to be comprehended with a single-minded 84 insistence upon the self-maximizing orientation in exchange relations, or any single exchange orientation for that matter. The main task from my point of View is to formulate the specific conditions which produce particular exchange orientations. I may have discovered conditions which precipitate a shift from diadic exchange structures to generalized exchange structures, but a more precise analysis of affective density clusters is needed before we know whether or not these speculations are accurate. As far as the exchange and network data analyzed in this study are concerned, not even the tip of the ice- berg has been touched. In the follow—up sample alone there are many more variables than have been introduced in this study. There are such variables as: interaction frequency; <:ognitive similarity; length of time transactors have known each other; perceived average time span of exchange cycle; dE><3rceived dependability; perceived trust with regard to keeping a secret; and perceived certainty of future exchanges. Another analytical perspective which I shall soon it::t?:y is to analyze consistencies and inconsistencies between 13arson and Other's perceptions of each other's exchange acts. ttrlblqis is possible because 96% of the residents completed the § uestionnaire . The analysis in this study is a crude first step thh for myself as an analyzer of data and for the data. The next, immediate step will be to study the exchange 85 ethnographic data and try to discover the sources of some of the complex findings reported here. At the same time, I wish to do an analysis of the affective structure of the whole network, but with a special focus upon density clusters. Then I should be able to begin interpreting ethnographic exchange data from a point of view consider— ing the actor's position in the larger network structure. Hopefully, shifting back and forth between the systematic and qualitative data will be "profitable." APPENDIX A AN ETHNOHISTORY OF FINN RIVER Introduction From the point of View of exchange theoretical work, the Finn River history is important because it demonstrates that natural exchange systems are adaptive, socially organ- ized responses to environmental conditions. Exchange behavior in natural settings is a very serious undertaking, often either directly or indirectly related to physical survival. There is a danger that as sociologists we may someday begin to believe that the peculiar kinds of exchange games we invent in controlled laboratory settings are the same as what happens in the natural world. It is important for the reader to have a feeling for the historical circumstances that shaped Finn River's exchange systems. The kinds of data analyzed in this study are difficult to collect. It is simply beyond the capacity of a single researcher to collect exchange network data for several communities. However, if the findings in a study such as this are to be the basis for generalized statements about exchange behavior, additional exchange network data Should be collected in a variety of community settings.1 It 118 quite possible that some of the findings in this study are consequences of distinctive features of the historical 86 87 development of Finn River's exchange system. Until addi- tional exchange network data are available it is important for us to be aware of the particular historical circum- stances shaping the Finn River exchange system. Finn River has maintained its history by passing knowledge down through the oral tradition. One articulate son of a pioneer farmer was informally charged with the responsibility of writing a history, but he suffered an incapacitating stroke before finishing the job. Conse— quently, the community has no written history. Local history is an important kind of knowledge in the community of Finn River. Insiders are identified by their ability to use the name of original homesteaders when referring to a particular farm or location within the community. The ability to tell stories about "olden times" is valued by all age groups. It is not uncommon to see, during a group visiting occasion, younger and middle-aged persons sitting silently around an old-timer telling stories. Finn River residents have identified several older persons who are believed to have a good memory for "olden times" as their historians. These folk historians are the last surviving members of the secondgeneration, the sons ‘and daughters of the original pioneer farmers. The role of 51 folk historian is taken very seriously in Finn River. 88 The folk historians told me the stories their parents recalled about hardship in the old country. They recalled their fathers angrily discussing the issues of working conditions and wages in the Copper Country mining towns; and their mothers worrying about the ethnic conflicts between miners, the hazards of their husbands working underground, and the growing violence between the miners and bosses during the 1913-14 Copper Country Strike. Their recollections unanimously stress the hard work required to manually carve a farm out of the wilder— ness. Fresh in their minds are memories of the arduous toil of those fall and winter days when mothers and chil- dren were left alone to work the farm while fathers were away working in lumbercamps deep in the virgin forests. Also impressed on their minds are the warm feelings Finn River residents shared during the communal labor episodes during which they built the barns now standing empty and abandoned. While reminiscing, they recalled how the impoverished farmers united and formed a thriving cooperative store, in the attempt to purchase essential supplies without having to pay the prices set by the two merchants of the community. They spoke vividly of how the "Christian" farmers thwarted the local communists' scheme ‘to gain control of the cooperative store and to use the £3'Lirplus capital to support communist political activity. 89 Permanently imbedded in their memories are the days when the Mineral Range Railroad roared through the com- munity; when the potato and cabbage farmers organized cooperative marketing systems; the annual threshing and wood- cutting crews moved through.the community; when the teacher in the one-room schoolhouse would not let them speak.their native Finnish language; and when the Finnish language was still spoken in the Sunday sermons. The data from which this ethnohistory was recon- structed was collected during tape—recorded interviews with. Finn River's folk historians. During the interviews at times I encouraged detailed verbal elaboration by the informants. The tapes were transcribed, coded and cross- classified, according to selected topics, and studied thoroughly, using cross-checking procedures, to obtain a higher measure of accuracy. This ethnohistory is from the point of view and spoken by the people of Finn River. It was my privilege to reconstruct their history in manuscript form. 9O Hardship in the Old‘Country The Finnish-Americans living in Finn River are second and third generation offspring of peasants emigrating from Finland between 1890 and 1910. Most of these immi— grants came from the western and northwestern coastal regions adjacent to the Gulf of Bothnia, from an area ranging between latitude 62° and 66° north, and going into the interior slightly beyond longitude 26° east. In Finnish politico-administrative terms this roughly corresponds to the rural provinces of Vaasa and Oulu. Between 1870 and 1900 Finland's agrarian sector became economically transformed. As rural society oriented itself toward the urban market system of rewards, social relations associated with the traditional subsistance— oriented mode of production were altered. In response to these changes and combined with population growth, the number of agricultural dependents and landless laborers increased. It is essentially from this group that most of Finn River's ancestors originated. Traditional Finnish agrarian social organization revolved around the ownership of land. By 1901 landowners constituted 23% of the rural populace, tenants made up 34% Of the households, and the landless laborers constituted 'the remaining 43% of the rural population (Hoglund, 1974: 5). trhe tenants leased land from the landlord and repaid him ‘With an unspecified amount of labor. Landless laborers 91 moved from farm to farm living in small cottages and working for their food and shelter. Between 1870 and 1900 larger landowners in Finland shifted away from traditional grain production toward commercialized dairy agriculture and logging. Dairy agri- culture required less labor than grain production, and the arrival of horsedrawn mowers and rakes considerably reduced the need for a constant large supply of manual labor. The landed class turned gradually to commercial sources for their supplies as cash became readily available. Subsis- tence farming declined as landlords came to perceive land as a money-making resource: They evicted tenants to increase their pasture and forest lands. A good indicator of the increasing dependence of agricultural society upon the cash economy is shown by the increase in the number of small country stores: 700% between 1865 and 1900 (Hoglund, 1960: 7). Many farms were too small to actively engage in commercialized agriculture. By 1900 approximately 70% of the households had less than 22 acres that could be culti- vated, and over 30% had less than five acres (Hoglund, 1974: 3). Since small farms could not be further sub- divided and yet maintain a reasonable chance of success— fully participating in the economic arena, the children of many of these small farmers had a very dim economic future in the Finnish countryside. 92 To make a living during the summers, the landless and the children of small landowners joined the legion of migrant laborers working on the large railroad construction projects in the northern areas of Finland, and in winter, they migrated south to work in the forests and sawmills. Some of the dispossessed found work in the industrial cities of Helsinki and Tampere, but at that very time the Industrial Revolution was in its very early stages in Finland, and there were not enough jobs to absorb all of them. This is suggested by the fact that in 1900 only 12% of the Fin- nish population lived in urban areas (Hoglund, 1960: 6). Finland heard the cries of "exploitation" and the need for land reform, but little reform came. Since owner- ship of land was a legal prerequisite for political enfranchisement, and since the crown held vast areas of land and outcasts from the rural sector held none, significant reforms were very unlikely. An elderly Finn River resident recalled his father's ideas about life in the "old country": (Virtually all of this is without elicitation on the part of the interviewer.) Land was so precious to the old Finns because in the old country they didn't own any land. . . . They couldn't. Very few owned any over there. They were what they called "torpparit." I guess you'd call them "share croppers." Yeah. Say you're the big land owner . . . they'd build something like a little shack on your land and then they had to work for you. That's how it was in the old country. Work for the big land owner and live in a little shack in one corner, and then they could raise a little garden on that if there was enough daylight after they got through working for this big fellow. I guess some of them had a cow. But then again 93 they had to work for the church and then again for the minister. So many days for each . . . you know. The church was the government. You know, the church ruled the country. Yeah, the minister himself owned, say, two or three forties, but the congre- gation had to work for him . . . to donate their work for him. If they didn't donate their work they were kicked out of the congregation. . . . And then you had to practically move because you couldn't get a . . . couldn't live on the land. Then you had to look out for your own good. This historical period also witnessed tenant strikes, but it was not until the latter part of the century that the issue was seriously discussed in the Parliament. In 1902 the Parliament passed a law requiring a written con- tract specifying the obligations landlords and peasantry owed one another. However, this law failed to require an exact statement of the length of the peasants' working day. Landlords took advantage of this ambiguity and demanded very long work days from their dependents, and further tenant strikes followed. It was not until 1905 that tenants became enfranchised, and until 1909 that the Social Democrats mobilized their support and began to articulate their interests (Hoglund, 1974). Migration to America, the "land of the gold" diverted attention away from the increasingly bitter con- frontation but only served to postpone the further accumula- tion of resentment against the landed gentry. Available data on the emigration of Finns during the period between 1893 and 1920 show that 68.3% of the emigrants came from the rural sectors of Finnish society. Observe Table 43 illustrating Finnish emigration according 94 to province of origin. In this table many of the emigrants classified as having "urban" origins had lived in Helsinki or Tampere for only short periods while searching for secure employment. Those emigrants from rural areas, when classi- fied by occupation, clearly show the economic dislocation processes operating in the rural sector. (See Table 44.) Of the emigrants coming from rural areas, 92.1% did not own any land. Children of the small landowners, and children of tenants leasing entire farm units were rapidly joining the ranks of the landless migrant labor army. The problem was even further compounded by popula- tion growth. In 1815, 50% of the rural household heads were landowners, but by 1901 this number had declined to less than 23% (Hoglund, 1960: 5). Between 1815 and 1875 tenant farmers increased at twice the rate of the population of landowners, and the landless laborers increased at five times their rate (Hoglund, 1960: 5). The landless Finnish emigrants who eventually found their way to Finn River, Michigan were forced to move from their homeland because they were rendered economically obsolete by the changing forces of production centering around the commercialization of agriculture. The basic reason for emigrating was due to the fact that they did not own land. Emigration to America was a quest for land in the spirit, "One's own place, one's own master." The upper ranks of Finnish society had very little sympathy for the plight of the landless who emigrated. 95 CH oapmahmeomnmno wasp mo m>wpnoHoCH ma manned cw cfiwflno mo mosfi>opa on» .um>mzom naflm>m mawommn no: man owmanoama pom mofipmfinmpomnnso sowpmnwwsm cmopsnanusu so mean: .Hmpsh hapsmcwsocmuo and ocean moosw>opm mops» one pane .oaow .3. .mma .o .Amoma ..ocH ..oo hammomzmz :meSam .CSononmv momalxoom masseumsam cmoam¢emm .Cwsamanmaox snow .mHmHnmmmH mom .EOHH :mxme .ooma .cawnaons amass an easemappwm amaccaa. ..z .mcnaos .<.2 emsmaansaa: mmo.m mom.H mmo mum.s mam.a ANH.H www.ma som.oa oam.m mmo.am mmm.mm esm.m coma cums cams -Hmma -HemH -Hmma mem.m ~n:.nm ommH tamed www.mm mmma .uwama ..owmaummma :Hwano no mam.m omn.a mom.m ama.a one mom.m ssm.mfi mmw.a omo.om :Ha.ma :mm.m www.0m .flfi naama mam.ma aaa.fi mmm.aa mam.m mom mms.oa mmm.am Nom.N awe.sm omw.ao omm.m was.um Iona looma mam.oa msa.a Hmo.ma asa.aa mm:.H mmo.~H som.om oso.~ soo.mn 000.00 omo.NH ©mo.aw womd IHomH 1am; a? «mm.a amm.m an: Hmm.m Ho~.mm mmm ¢:H.MN omm.om Hmm.~ Hao.~m coma gamma .ommowso Mo zpfimnm>fiso .wammae .oopsom .2. amo.H Hausa wHH caps: aom.a anomusnsa Ham.m Hausa new :33 0mm.m sane Hmm.m amuse mm: can“: omw.m ammm> oom.~H Hausa amm.a can“: aam.sa saddens “mma -mmmfi .m: mange mosa>ohm op mafionooo< cofipwuwasm guesses 96 Table 44. 1890-1920 Finnish Emigrant Population of Rural Origin by Occupation.* Occupational Description Frequency. Percent Landowners 14.774 7.9 Landowners' children 66,593 35.6 Tenants leasing entire farm units 7,112 3.8 Tenants' children 25,710 13.7 Landless farm workers 72,271 38.7 Miscellaneous agricultural laborers 602 .___;3 Total 187,069 100% ‘I- Source: John Kolehmainen and George Hill. Haven in the Woods: The Sto of the Finns in Wisconsin (Madison. Wisc.: Wisconsin University Press. 1951 . 97 Governmental leaders scorned them as lacking in patriotism. Clergymen derided them on the grounds that to even think of leaving the fatherland was to live in sin and immorality. Military leaders decried the loss of manpower which would undermine the nation's strength. Landowners and indus- trialists moaned over the loss of cheap labor (Hoglund, 1974). A conscious propaganda campaign was organized to curb the emigration. Articles regularly appeared in news- papers and magazines, discussing the evils of emigration, and the character defects associated with individuals leaving the country. Only a few voices pointed to the need for land reform and work for the landless, and few listened. Finnish society was sharply stratified and those in the upper ranks knew very little about life at the bottom of the stratification system. "Making aggo of it" in the copper mines Finns formed scattered settlements in Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Illinois, Montana, Oregon, Washington and California. But the most striking feature of their settle- ment pattern is the sharp concentration in the Upper Great Lakes Region. (See Figure 17.) Since all Finns were literate as a result of Lutheran confirmation tradition, many letters were sent back to their kinsmen describing similarities between their new homesite and Finland. Back home these letters were passed throughout kinship networks, 98 .ms .a .Aomaa .ommoaao to spamno>ncp .mammap .<.2 amamnansacpv .camaeoas page: as pamEmHPPmm amnaqaa. .mcaaoz casnoz .mohgom. *.mmapcsoo so .m.o map ca ozone apaawcoapmz massage n ma macaw .uH magmas rd. . .333: ...... 4-. ., , 2:2... mo ozooum ux» umq mzz: § ...-.3...” ”W4... town] #1... ...u~.!|...h1.lo . .... .. 2.3.... ... . :. xuopm zoamou #3238 ox» $2 mzzE I our—.2300 >m .m5 at... z. coomo .-.... 31220.52 023.25. a 2 mzza . am. ......... m .......... ----a--m. W a. ............................. m .............. w ........................ 99 and news spread with the effect of soothing the anxieties of migration. It did not seem so bad to move to another place just like Finland (Van Cleef: 1931; Davis: 1933). Most cultural geographers now appear to agree that the economic opportunities associated with expanding mining industries in the Minnesota Iron Ranges and the northern Michigan Copper Range was the pivotal factor contributing to heavy concentration of Finnish immigrants in this region. The typical historical pattern of economic activity of the original Finn River settlers began with full-time copper or iron mining from 1890 to 1913; part-time logging and part-time farming from 1913 to 1945; fu1l-time farming up to the latter 19508; part—time farming and part-time logging and/or factory employment from the latter 19503; and finally up to the present, an increasing tendency to engage in full-time employment in factories or construction work outside the community. Copper production in Upper Michigan soared upward steadily from the end of the Civil War until the end of the First World War. In 1865 the level of copper production was 6,410 tons, increasing to 22,204 tons in 1880; 45,273 tons in 1890; 102,874 tons in 1905; and 135,000 tons in 1916 (Steven, 1920: 1594). Similar expansion occurred in the Minnesota Iron Range from 248,000 tons in 1864 to 19,506,000 tons in 1916 (Steven, 1920: 1595). Finns had a reputation for being hard workers and were welcomed by the mining companies. Occasionally, 100 mining company agents recruited emigrants in the railroad stations and docks of Finland (Murdock, 1943). As early as 1860 the northern Michigan copper mining companies organized the Mine Emigrant Society explicitly for that purpose (Meeks, 1964: 137). At the time, what is called the "Copper Country" in northern Michigan did not have railroad connections with the rest of the Midwestern states, and immigrants were greatly dependent upon the Great Lakes waterways for transportation. It was relatively easy for an immigrant seeking employment to travel by water directly from New York to the COpper Country, in contrast to opportunities for travel to other areas of the country (Meeks, 1964: 138). Finnish immigrants came with a very strong desire to own land and begin farming. However, the better farmlands were already homesteaded by earlier German, Norwegian and Swedish immigrants following passage of the Homestead Act in 1862. Germans settled in most of the prime farmland in Indiana, Ohio and southern Illinois. Shortly afterwards Norwegian and Swedish immigrants homesteaded the "second best" lands, in central and northern Illinois, lower Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota and parts of Iowa. When the more solid stream of Finnish immigrants began to flow in 1890, well over 4,500,000 Germans and 1,000,000 Norwegians and Swedes had already arrived (Moline, 1966: 34). Thus when land-hungry Finnish immigrants came to America the only available farmlands in the midwest were a 101 few scattered homestead tracts and the cut-over areas of pine forests in the Great Lakes Region. So they took jobs in the mines in order to save money to buy a farm. Thousands of Finns in the Great Lakes Region and most of those founding the community of Finn River followed this pattern of settle- ment. Although Finnish immigrants had no previous mining experience, since there were few other opportunities avail- able, they became miners. Furthermore, some of the immigrants were indebted to the mining companies for the cost of their trip from Finland, so they had few other Options. The c0pper mining industry was well established by the time the Finnish settlers came to the Copper Country. Cornish, Irish, French-Canadian, Italian, Croatian, Norwegian, and a few Swedish immigrants were already working in the mines. An occupational status order existed within the mining industry which coincided with ethnic status. The Cornish miners (Cousin Jacks) had a long tradition of mining experience, and they were the foremen. Irish and Italian men were drillers and blasters. French-Canadians were involved with the woodswork associated with mining, making ties for the railroads and laying the wooden structure which supported the walls and ceiling inside the mines. Finns were generally trammers; the human workhorses shoveling the ore into cars, pushing cars out of the mine and unloading their contents into larger railroad cars. Trammers were paid less than any other workers, and they 102 had less prestige. Finns also worked in the woodswork jobs associated with the mining activity. Although initially grateful for the jobs, Finnish miners disliked mine work for several reasons. They made smaller wages than the other miners; mining work at this time was dangerous; there were intense ethnic conflicts in the mining towns; and mining company "bosses" were virtual dictators controlling the towns, stores, bars, housing facilities, courts, and church leaders. Bosses reminded Finnish immigrants of the exploiting landed and clerical elite they had left in Finland. Miners frequently died in the mines, but the mining companies always seemed to escape any responsibility. Health and safety conditions were never seriously implemented. A Finn River woman told me of her father's experiences in the mines: Dad didn't like working in the mines because it was so dangerous. One day some rock fell and injured his eye. Never could see much with that eye. Ma was always trying to coax him to leave the mines and move out on a farm, but Dad said, "It was easier to make your bed out of the rock than in the woods." But Ma was always worried because there were a lot of accidents in those days. My dad was in number one shaft when it was burning in Huron Town there. Yeah. Two of his friends got left in there. . . . Never made it out. Same thing with a Polish lad he knew. You know, they would have made it . . . the guy and his son got just. . . . If they would have waited long enough to get up there where they were intended to go, they would have survived. But they got spooked. Dad, he took the ladder and got up to the surface and my uncle went to number two shaft. Well, he got saved that way and so did the rest of the guys. Dad said, "They got them by the shirt collar and dragged them out." na‘ \rv '0‘ C) r) «in: t 103 Ma thought the next time he might not make it out. You know, there were always accidents and explosions. She kept coaxing, "On the farm . . . on the farm." After listening to people in Finn River describe the living and working conditions associated with working in the copper mines it is apparent that the early immigrants were very appreciative for any Opportunity to work, or they would not have tolerated early copper mines. To them it was a life better than that which they had known in the old country. After working a mile beneath the surface, breathing foul air, and watching friends get injured and killed, it. became increasingly apparent to the miners that the wealthy absentee mining company owners who lived in Boston were totally unconcerned with their welfare. Several times I have heard older men say, "If a man accidentally hurt or killed a mule he was fired. But if a man were killed on the job, nothing was said. Bosses used to say, 'We can always get another man but we gotta pay a lot for them mules.‘ You know, they cared more about those mules than a man's life." The theme of perceived exploitation in this recur- ring story comparing treatment of a mule with the treatment of a man's life was startling. Evidently this was a theme which fit perfectly with work experience of the miners. It was repeated in the shafts, on the ladders, behind ore cars, and in the bars. The story put working conditions and experiences into a perspective which gave them a shocking 104 sense of injustice. The story is always told with raised eyebrows, head nodding in the affirmative emphasis of credi- bility, the gestures communicating the message, "That's right. I'm not kidding you. They thought more of a mule than a man's life!" It was not company policy to tell a man his life was ‘worth less than a mule's. It may have been said by a fore- Inan to one of the drillers over a beer. But even now a stranger can hear any old miner tell the same story. Today cuie might regard it as an amusing tale, but to the early liinnish miner it revealed the ugly side of absentee owner- sfliip in a capitalistic economy: It told the Finnish inunigrants that mining companies operated only to make as munch money as they could, and they were unconcerned with the fate of the workers. Finnish miners at the bottom of the pay scale resented the bosses. An old Finn River man told me: Dad had an opportunity to take over a foreman's job in the Isle Royale Number Four Shaft. As a trammer he started that one with the first shovel- ful . . . in Dodgeville. . . . No one liked bosses then, and he didn't like it. He said, "I'll never be a boss for anyone." So that summer they came out on the farm. The bosses were probably so disliked by the Finnish miners that they were afraid their ethnic peers might resent even a F'inn who became one. Finnish immigrants were involved in ethnic con- :fljJDts in the mines, the streets and the bars. Finns fought with the "Cousin Jacks", the Swedes, Irish and 105 French Canadians. French Canadians were very competent woodsmen and did most of the woodswork involved in mining. Finnish immigrants were also very competent woodsmen. Since both ethnic groups offered similar skills to the market in return for wages, they became economic competitors. Throughout American labor history, each successive immigrant group was perceived as a threat to the occupational security of the established workers. Such economic competition produced animosity and bitterness between the Finns and the French Canadians. This never amounted to widescale organized conflicts, but fist-fights and resentments were commonplace in mining towns. Talking to the older men in the Finn River area, one hears stories about the local cultural heroes of the ethnic street brawls. Memory is undoubtedly selective, and they recall instances where a single Finn whipped several others. Conversational settings are usually all male and one man's story is usually followed by another of this theme: a solitary Finn fights off several Irishmen, Swedes or French- men. When Dad was working at the Rock House there was a mob of them [Irishmen] and they wanted to see for themselves how many he could handle alone. There were about five or six that tackled him and he took the first one and grabbed him by his arms right here [between shoulders and elbows] and used this man as a club. The man was screaming as Dad swung him through the air belting the rest of them. When he dropped this man down he was as limp as a rag. He didn't show up for work for about a month. When he did he showed everyone his arms and all the flesh and muscles deteriorated where Dad had a grip 106 on him. He held him so tight while swinging him through the air that he was never able to use his arms much after that. The combined effects of fear of one day not walking out of the mine; dislike of the foul air; resentment toward the bosses perceived economic discrimination with respect to the Cornish, Irish, and French; and ethnic conflicts precipitated migration from the mining towns into the peaceful countryside. Perceived injustices and occupational grievances accumulated and reached a crisis point during the famous Copper Country Strike of 1913-14. The strike issue mobilized all of the miners, cutting across all ethnic groups, and galvanized workers into a confrontation with the bosses. Conflict quickly became organized as the bosses hired strike- breaking thugs from New York to intimidate the workers. Upon the request of the governor, Federal troops were sent into Calumet to squelch the conflict. Hatred and violence were increasing as the companies blackballed anyone sympa- thetic to the strikers (Murdock, 1945). Some Finnish socialists were involved in the strike, and anyone suspected of sympathy with the strikers was accused of socialism and was blackballed. This even hap- pened to non-socialist "church-going" Finns during the excitement. So Finns began to move into the countryside to escape the turmoil in the mining towns, and to realize their original dream of owning their own land. 107 Many of the Finns moving into the Finn River area had been blacklisted for supporting the strikers. One man told me: Many of these peOple here were blacklisted and the bosses wouldn't give them a job after the strike. Some of them maybe were a little out- spoken . . . maybe took a stand during the strike . . . maybe just stepped out of line. They just wouldn't take them back in the mines. Bosses kept a record on each employee and the different companies sent these lists to one another so if they had a bite on a man he couldn't get work no place on the Range [Copper Range]. They passed these lists to the iron mines in Minnesota and Ishpeming . . . to all the mines . . . silver mines . . . as far as Montana. If they had a bite on a man he couldn't get work any place. "Land Fever" struck the Finnish immigrants. Migra- tion into the countryside took the form of a social movement. Finnish newspapers, established as soon as the immigrants settled in the mining towns, celebrated the existence of the 'Uiinnish rural spirit," "an instinct born of generations of cxnntact with the soil," the "unswerving attachment to the lalhfl," and the "Finnish backwoods dweller's soul" (Koleh— nlainen, 1951: 44). Newspapers such as the American Uusitet, éflfii£ican Suomalainen, and the American Suomentar referred to tile swelling back-to-the-land movement disparagingly, fearing that all Finns would become farmers. They published editorials refuting the View that all other occupations Sl'1<3‘L11d.yield to farming. The socialist-oriented Tyomies FKIrtrayed the movement as a way to escape the "monied bOSSeS. ll 108 Land advertisements designed by real estate brokers familiar with the Finnish immigrants' history of exploitation in the old country and in the mining towns appealed to the basic motives of the land fever. "Take hold, Finland man, of the earth's surface from which you made a living in Fin- land. Be your own master and boss! Let the inferior bow to the lords and listen to the blasts of the whistle" (Koleh- mainen, 1951: 49). The rural movement reached such propor- tions a very knowledgeable real estate man said that he thought it safe to say that, "Every Finlander who comes to this country has the ambition to own a little home of his own and farm it" (Kolehmainen, 1950: 45). Migration into the countryside Between 1880 and 1900 Finn River was a site where Great White Pine logs were hauled and piled during the winter, then dumped into the river during the spring floods caused by melting snow. It was a settlement of scattered subsistence farms inhabited by French Canadian lumberjacks and their families who had begun cutting pine in Canada, and followed the forests across the western and northwestern regions of the Upper Peninsula. Finn River lies strategically between three rivers that once floated the huge pine out of the virgin forests to the sawmills in towns on Portage Lake and Keweenaw Bay. When Pine was "King" the only transportation routes were trails made by great oxen dragging massive logs to the river 109 banks. Were it not for the three adjacent rivers, Finn River never would have become a settlement. French.Canadians in Finn River never farmed com— mercially because they were too isolated from the mining town markets: Dairy products would have perished during the long journey to even the closest mining town. The little farming they did was in cut-over stump clearings used as pastures, and they planted vegetables between the large pine roots. The last of the Great White Pine fell at the turn of the century, so French Canadian families moved to nearby sawmilling towns for work, and single men moved westward toward other virgin pine forests. French Canadians were glad to relocate closer to their church. The nearest church had been over nine miles away, a whole day's journey. They depended upon their faith as a means for coping with the harsh wilderness environment. So they sold their homesteads to the "clannish" and land-hungry Finns who came from mining towns, and moved closer to work and church. Several Swedish families had already established themselves in Finn River. Most of them worked in sawmills in the nearest towns, and some gradually moved out farther out into the stump clearings around the towns. They did not get along well with Finns. Large brawls and street fights were common in nearby towns, but in Finn River there were only a few Swedish families, so few hostilities broke out. 110 Finnish immigrants began moving into the Finn River area at the turn of the century, and the stream of migration continued until the mid 1920s. As soon as a family saved enough money to buy a horse and a cow, they acquired land in the countryside. During the years between 1910 and 1917, a three year span preceding and following the Copper Country Strike, the stump clearings were quickly inhabited with Finns. Economically the times were very hard for the ex—miners. Most Finn River folk stress the severity of the early settler's economic hardship by saying "the depression was nothing compared to the lean years of the Copper Country Strike." Farmers fortunate enough to move into the Finn River area before the Copper Country Strike actually bene- fited from it: Miners and their families moving into the area were hungry, and worked all day for a farmer in return for food and a place to sleep in the haybarn. As one old man told me, See, on our farm we had four or five from the Copper Country Strike. There was no food over there. That was a more drastic depression than the regular depression we had after. That's right. That was worse. That's when this area filled in. That's when she started. . . . You betcha. All they cared about when they came to our place was food and some Peerless Tobacco. . . . That's all they wanted. They didn't want any more . . . just some food and Peerless. And smokes were so tight at that time that you know they smoked two pipefuls; one in the morning and one in the evening. And then they would take that terva [accumulated nicotine residue in the pipe] and put it in their mouth for noon. Yeah, they'd scrape that teras out of their pipe for noon- time. That's how tight it was. 111 One Saturday evening while sitting with two old Finn River men behind a sauna, one who was cooling off and swat- ting mosquitoes said to me, During the Copper Country Strike so many people and their friends came into this area. Our back field was cleared by those people who didn't have any work then . . . four and a half acres. And that's the time Ma and Pa had that old shack made into a sauna. The younger man nodded in agreement, Same way over at Dad's. That's when we cleared some land, and built that chicken coop. They built a sauna too. There was two guys who came from the Strike and stayed. Dad paid 'em a dollar a day and eats. That was in the spring and believe it or not they used to get suckers three times a day from the river . . . breakfast, dinner, and supper. They had a net in the river and every morning that was some chore to go down to the river, pull the net up, and carry back those fish. I don't know how the dickens they could eat that many fish. Early Finn River residents were essentially without cash reserves. Most came into the area penniless after enduring the lean years of the Copper Country Strike. If some had a little money it went to the initial down payment of the land. Making land payments was a major source of anxiety for the first generation Finnish settlers. Their deep hatred for any form of indebtedness was fashioned from memories of the earlier subordination to the landed gentry in Finland, as well as the more recent encounters with mining company bosses. Yet they were faced with the inevitable need for cash in order to buy the land they so desperately wanted. 112 Mining companies encouraged the farming and settling of some of their lands because it insured them of an adequate supply of farm and dairy products for their mining towns. They encouraged tenancy contracts with immigrants desiring to escape the mines, but their annual reports indicate that Finnish peOple were very reluctant to enter into tenant farming contracts. Finns wanted their own land. Cultural geOgraphers studying the Finnish settlement patterns have noticed that as compared to all of the immigrant groups, the Finnish population in the United States has the highest per- centage of rural residence, and has always had the highest proportion of farmers owning their own land as Opposed to renting or working under some kind of tenant arrangement (Meeks, 1964: 146). Finn River pioneers chose to go into debt in order to have the appearance of owning their own land, rather than to accept a tenancy contract. Loan companies were waiting for them, eager to get a land-hungry Finn's signature on a high interest loan. Immigrants were desperate; not under- standing everything loan officers said about the terms of the contract, they signed these agreements any way. For the rest of their lives many of this first generation of Finnish farmers would remain suspicious and distrustful of con- tractual relations with strangers. A few of the earlier arriving Finns homesteaded land allocated for such purposes by the Homestead Act of 1862. Homesteaders were required to live on the land for six 113 months of the year, and after five years they had to clear at least five acres of forested land. Many cleared land for six months, and then moved temporarily back into the mining town, sawmill town or lumbercamps to make enough money for another year's supplies. Lands purchased by the Finns were generally sold by French Canadian families, logging companies that had cleared the area of the Great White Pine, and the Duluth South Shore and Atlantic Railroad Company. In those days the Federal Government gave railroads several miles of land on each side of the track as an incentive to construct transportation systems in the unsettled areas. Locally, a Duluth, South Shore and Atlantic Railroad Company "colonizing agent" named Jasberg became rather famous for settling Finnish people. They trusted him, as he evidently was partially fluent in their language. He sold farms to several thousand Finnish families in the Upper Peninsula, and he sold many farms in Finn River. J. H. Jasberg saw himself not as a real estate salesman but as a patron for the Finnish immigrants, as a person selflessly doing a great service by helping them find and purchase the land they so deeply desired. He thought Finnish people were especially suited to settle the rugged cut-over pine forest areas because they were accustomed to the very harsh climate, to physical hardship, and were fanatical workers. In Jasberg's mind, quoted from Meeks, 114 The most desirable settler for such.cut-over areas were those who had many children, and whose wife would work hard; the type of wife whose working days can be measured in terms of eight hours--eight in the morning and eight in the afternoon (Meeks, 1964: 150). A vast majority of the Finns went into serious financial debt to pay for their land. The Hardy—Ryan Loan Company of Chicago, with an office in Hancock, Michigan, sponsored many of these loans. Two store owners in a nearby town pooled their resources to make loans for needy Finnish farmers. It may shock the reader to know that in the decades between 1900 and 1920 loans were given the high rates of seven to eight percent annual interest! "Making a go of it" in the northwoods Finnish people in the Upper Peninsula use the phrase "making a go of it" to refer to the economic struggle to sur- vive. The phrase connotes the struggle to live, and the necessity to do everything in one's power to have food on the table and a roof over one's head. It is a phrase our generation cannot fully comprehend. The early settlers in Finn River were in a very difficult situation. Most of them took out loans of $1000 to pay for their lands. Reflecting on the economic hardship of the original settlers, an old man said to me: I got some papers of Dad's yet that shows the interest rates and everything. It's been seven . . . eight percent and it's been so that you had to renew that loan every year. If you weren‘t 115 able to pay . . . well, they wouldn't renew it. They wouldn't make a loan for any longer than a year. They loaned money to the farmers for a year, just, and if they couldn't pay that in a year, why, they took everything you had. According to local people, between 1900 and 1915 land around Finn River averaged $250 for 40 acres, and many of the farmers bought four forties. According to the inter- views I have conducted with Finns, most of the farmers could barely scrape up $70 for interest on the principal. During the early days of settlement, it was almost unheard of to actually pay toward the principal. And land taxes were not very high in those days, but even the $12 to $15 demanded by the government was a burden to the settlers. Most families needed $90 to $100 to cover interest payments on the loan and pay land taxes. This does not seem to be a great amount of money, but the reader must remember that Finn River was isolated in the wilderness with few work opportunities available. When the last of the pine floated down the nearby rivers, and the mines were on strike, there were virtually no Opportunities to find work that would pay cash. One could find an endless amount of non-monetary work, and the early settlers worked hard from sunrise to sunset clearing their lands, building homes, and planting crops; but money was very scarce, and its accumulation was a source of great anxiety to impoverished Finns. 116 Natural and man-made transportation systems open the community to the external cash economy As when the outside cash economy had once reached into the wilderness, extracting the Great White Pine for homes in Detroit and Chicago, and wooden safety matches for people all over the United States, it again touched the face of Finn River around 1900. Mining companies developed a more efficient technique of separating copper embedded in other kinds of rock. This technique was known as "stamping" and it amounted to shattering the rock surrounding the copper deposits to separate the copper. A stamp plant was built east of Finn River adjacent to the Duluth, South Shore and Atlantic Railroad. West of Finn River several copper mines operated. Mining companies decided to build a railroad connecting the mines to the stamping plant. It so happened that Finn River was located next to the shortest and most convenient route between the mines and the stamping plant. Thus, national demand for copper combined with the geographical location of mine sites and stamping plants made it possible for Finn River to have a transportation route to the outside world. Thirty years earlier the three rivers provided the basic ecological conditions for a French Canadian settlement. Only because the rivers could float it to the sawmills could white pine be extracted from the forests surrounding Finn River. A community developed only because a natural 117 transportation facility allowed the national cash economy to consume its resources. In 1900 the Mineral Range Railroad was built through Finn River. Now a man-made transportation facility made it possible to satisfy the requirements of the national economy while at the same time giving an isolated community an eco- nomic lifeline to the outside world. The Mineral Range Railroad had a very wide range of influence on this little settlement which was very little more than a clearing in a vast forest. The railroad made it possible for the local peOple to exchange the products of their labor for cash from the outside market. Once again the national economy demanded lumber; this time, to build the cities of Chicago, Detroit and Milwaukee. Hardwoods--maple, birch and elm--were too heavy to float, so they were left standing as long as the rivers provided the only means of transporting logs. In the pre-railroad years without transportation facilities hard- wood was not marketable. Many of the farmers even burned gigantic piles of hardwood logs while clearing their lands. When the Mineral Range Railroad came through in 1900 it was possible to ship out hardwood logs by rail to sawmills in local towns. Since all of the farmers had some woodland, they could log their own land during winter, skid them to the siding in Finn River, and have them shipped to one of the sawmills in nearby towns. After farmers logged their own lands, they worked during the fall and winter for local 118 entrepreneurs who had a contract with one of the nearby saw- mills. By logging either for himself or for a local con- tractor, the immigrant farmer was able to scrape up enough money to pay for his land. Finn River became known as a big lOgging center. Local people recall that sometimes 50 teamsters and their teams were working in the village area, piling logs and loading them onto flatcars. By the end of the winter log piles as high as the rooftops lined both sides of the main road for a mile north and south of Finn River. Entrepreneurs arose from the ranks of the Finnish farmers. Four logging contractors became wealthy during the hardwood logging boom. These men had come earlier into the Finn River area, had already established homes and families, and were in a position to take advantage of a cut-rate labor force as the ex-miners moved into the countryside. Ex-miners worked from daylight to dark for $1 a day, performing strenuous and dangerous physical labor. Many were without the necessary team of horses needed to log their own lands, and needed some cash to pay off the interest on their loans,so they logged for one of the local contractors. The ex—miners went very deeply into financial debt simply in order to purchase their land. The railroad, logging, mining and dairy industries were interdependent. The mining companies needed large amounts of timber to operate the mines. Four foot hemlock or cedar logs, hewed on two sides, were used as ties for the 119 tracks that hauled ore out of the mines. "Stulls," used as pillars supporting mine tunnels, were made from eight foot hardwood logs. "Legging," used to support walls of the shafts, were generally 12 foot cedar logs split down the middle. "Flat timber" supported the ceilings in the tunnels and generally cedar, spruce, balsam or hemlock of variable lengths--12, l4 and 16 feet and hewed on two sides. Big furnaces heating the mines, generating steam, and melting ore used four foot cordwood, generally maple or birch, as fuel. Miners living in the mining towns needed cordwood for cooking and heating fuel in their homes. In the early 19005 all of the homes used wood exclusively as fuel. They also needed dairy products, eggs, cabbage and potatoes because they did not have enough land in the towns to produce these foods. The railroad made it possible for the mining opera- tions to be supplied with the necessary wood products, and the mining town population supplied with products they needed from the countryside. It gave the Finnish immigrant farmers an outlet for the products of their labor, and a means for obtaining the supplies but could not produce for themselves. The railroad needed what seemed to be a never- ending supply of eight foot cedar, hemlock, and later, maple ties hewed on both sides. Until the railroad came through Finn River, vir- tually all farming activity was subsistence oriented. 120 Dairy products are highly perishable and simply would not last the day-long trip into one of the nearby towns during the summer months. Such a journey was seldom feasible during the winter. It was not long after the first whistle blew that Finnish farmers were hauling their cream cans to the Finn River Station. After a few years the farmers organized a cooperative creamery to make butter to ship out by rail. Farmers generally received from $1.50 to $2.00 for five gallons of cream. This is not very much, considering the large volume of milk required to make five gallons of cream and the work involved in separating it. The Mineral Range Railroad needed workers to main- tain the tracks. Heavy damage occurred during the hard winter months. Finn River had a section house, which lodged two foremen and their families. Each foreman had a crew of five or six men whose jobs were laying ties, rails, and repairing switches. In 1902 wages were 15¢ an hour for section hands. The Mineral Range Railroad sustained the growth of Finn River by constructing an economic lifeline from deep in the heart of the wilderness to the mining and sawmill towns nearby. As mining operations and hardwood markets declined, the railroad finally shut down. In 1936 the company removed its tracks. Today the younger generation is not even aware of the fact that their community was once a logging boom town, made possible only because of a railroad that no longer exists. The railroad disappeared at a time when the 121 people had already adapted to other forms of transportation, so the community lived on. Farming and logging When pioneer families arrived in the Finn River area, they were confronted with a combination of harsh living con— ditions. Because of the very short growing season, the climate is unfavorable to farming. Winters are long and severe. Six months of the year the ground is covered with snow. Temperatures go down to 35 degrees below zero, and it is cold from the latter part of October until late May, when spring plowing can begin. Lake Superior, one of the largest and deepest fresh water lakes in the world, is the basic factor shaping the temperature of the region. Its waters are deep and cold, and when prevailing winds cross over them they are chilled. When winds blow from the east, the lake air cools Finn River. Because of cool temperatures, the growing season of the Finn River area is 30 days shorter than in the more productive southwestern sections of Michigan. Furthermore, even during the growing season, Finn River is likely to have one or more frosts. Any kind of farming is difficult simply due to the temperature patterns. Other factors make farming difficult in Finn River. The soil is acidic because for centuries the needles of the Great White Pine fell to the forest floor. Massive stumps were stubbornly rooted in the soil, along with mixed hard 122 and softwood trees. Fields were cultivated between stumps in cut-over clearings which were microscopic in contrast to the size of surrounding forests. Even today 90% of the land in the county is forested. Farming in the Finn River area faces even more cli- matic difficulties because of heavy snows and fall rains. Heavy snowfalls delay spring plowing because when the snow finally melts, it takes two to three weeks for the fields to dry enough to work. In August, Lake Superior is at its warmest and cool air masses traveling over it acquire additional moisture causing heavy rains during that month. This often prevents the farmer from completing his plowing. Hence, cultivation is hindered by wet fields before and after the short growing season. The first great task facing Finn River pioneer families was clearing the land. Trees and stumps became something to be conquered, cut down and burned. A family's prestige became associated with the size of their clearings. After falling the trees, skidding away and piling the logs, the farmer had to face the most difficult problem, removing the stumps. Generally a farmer dug a hole underneath a stump and started a fire. It would burn for several days and be left to rot for a year or two. Then he put dynamite in the crevices to blow it into several manageable pieces. An ox or team of horses would pull apart the dynamited pieces, aided by a grunting, sweating Finn, pulling and prying on an oversized equivalent to a crowbar. 123 An aging second generation Finn River man told me from his hospital bed of his recollection of clearing the land. They had to clear the land of the giant stumps. After the First World War the government had a sur- plus of dynamite called picric acid. Pa used to just glance at one of those stumps, size it up and know just how many sticks to put in it, and know just where to put them. I remember one stump took 35 sticks of dynamite. You know what that means. Those stumps were so big that the roots would go 30 feet underneath the ground and they were as big around as a grown man. I remember once my pa and the neighbor teamed up their horses trying to pull out a big stump. It made you shiver nervously to see how hard those horses were straining. You were afraid they might die on the spot from a bursted heart. Another neighbor came over with his ox and Pa said that was really some sight to see that ox strain against that stump. He was almost doubled up in a hump straining so hard against that stump. Our neighbor was proud of that ox and he drove hard trying to show Pa that he could pull it out. That ox would double up, pull very slowly and when he could feel that there was something very heavy holding him back, he would back up a few steps, double up so it looked as if he had a great hump on his back, and lunge forward with all his might against the resistance of that stump. Everyone was clearing land in those days. I can remember that we could see big clouds of black smoke going high in the air when they were burning stumps and brush piles over as far as French Hill. During the day you would be hearing explosions all over the country like there was a war going on. At night we saw big bonfires when the other farmers were burning stumps and brushpiles. Clearing the land was everyone's job. Adult males did the heavier work of prying and chaining the stumps, but the women and children jumped on or pulled a long bar which ripped apart huge masses of wood. Women and children carried and piled brush and branches. The forest contained both 124 the big pieces and the small pieces of wood, and everyone did what their physical limitations allowed. During this period of clearing the land, pioneer settlers adapted to the conditions and developed an exchange pattern to satisfy basic energy needs. Stumps were often too difficult to remove with only one horse, so neighboring farmers combined their horses into a team, doubling their horsepower. Since each man knew the idiosyncracies of his own horse and the little tricks required to make him work, it was often necessary for the neighboring farmers to work together, several days on one man's land and then several days on the other's. In the early days most farmers had only one horse. A horse was initially a very expensive purchase, later requiring what at that time was a great deal of grain, hay and shelter. As soon as a farmer could accumulate enough money, he generally bought another horse. When he became accustomed to working with his new team, a farmer could use them as a means to make money. Every logging contractor needed teamsters in the winter. Teamsters kept their horses in the company barn, cared for them, and worked them during the daylight hours. A teamster was always needed to haul logs on sleds and pile them both in the woods and in the railroad spurs. They worked four hours longer than the regular jacks, but made about twice as much money. As farmers bought their own teams of horses, 125 they no longer needed regular horse exchanges with their neighbors, and this early "horsepower" exchange custom ended. Those farmers who settled before the heavy migration movement during the Copper Country Strike were in a position to play, on a very small scale, the role of the landed gentry of the old country. Hungry ex-miners and their families would work all day clearing land in return for food and shelter. These labor for food and shelter exchanges did not last very long, but it gave a few farmers a head start in making a farm out of stump clearings. Logging contractors usually had farms larger than the other farmers. During the spring and summer months they hired landless lumberjacks to clear their land, generally in return for food and shelter and sometimes a very small wage. Landless lumberjacks cleared many acres of farmland in the Finn River area even though their names seldom appeared on deeds. These bachelor lumberjacks moved in with the family, ate with them, and became in a sense a regular part of the family. Many farm families allowed old lumberjacks to live out their days in small shacks when they became too old to work either on the farm or in the woods. This tradition still exists today in Finn River: occasionally a farm family will take in an old bachelor and let him live out his days in return for minor work. When one brother inherits a farm the unmarried siblings generally are permitted to live on the farm in return for participating in the chores. 126 Clearing the land presented the early pioneers with the constant threat of forest fires. If a sudden gust of wind blew from Lake Superior, huge fires burning large hard- wood logs, which were unmarketable in pre-railroad days, sometimes got out of control. The physical proximity of such a huge body of water made the wind conditions unpre- dictable. Aging members of the pioneer generation recall fears of forest fires. Years ago there were a lot of forest fires. People were always clearing land and burning brush piles and they never took care of them and the wind would come up and blow the flames and sparks out into the woods and in minutes it was uncon- trollable. We had no fire-fighting equipment then and it would just burn for miles and miles until it naturally burned itself out. Our clearings weren't very big then and with the woods so close to the house, sparks would fly from the burning trees onto our cedar shingled roof. I remember in 1907 I saw the fire coming while playing in the school yard during recess. I told the teacher I had to go home and warn Ma. She let me go and I ran all the way home. When I got to the river my brother was there fishing and I told him I saw the fire coming toward the house. We both ran home and we helped Ma move all the furniture out into the field away from the other buildings. With snow on the ground it might not burn. That's why all these farmers had haybarns out in the fields away from the house and cow barns, and why there are so many separate little buildings around the farm. We ran back down to the river and got down close to the water with the neighbors. The men went back and tried to save the buildings. I remember we put all our clothes into a square box and brought them down to the river. Two neighbor families were there with their children. They tried to get our bachelor neighbor away from his home but he wouldn't leave it. Every little while they would go see if he was alright because the smoke was so terrible you couldn't see. He had managed to cover his eyes because his eyes were so . . . you know . . . burnt by 127 the smoke. His chicken coop burnt up and so did the new school. A man over in the area west of the cemetery would not leave his farm even though the rest of the family and the neighbors begged him to go. No, he wanted to stay there and save it. They came back three days later because the ground was so hot even after the fire that you couldn't even walk on it with shoes and boots on. They found him down in the well. It got so hot he went down there to keep from burning and he suffocated down there, and was roasted to death. We were always on the lookout for fires in olden times. That fire in 1907 helped clear a lot of the land around here even though it killed some of the people and burnt many of their homes. The French lumberjacks had taken all the pine out and the rubble was left. You can imagine what pine needles and branches are like when they are dry; just like a tinder box. The fire started over here just west of the cemetery and roared through like a flash. When the fire finally died out, all that was left were charred stumps. All the farmers had to do was gather up the remaining brush and start plowing. And that same year they planted hay on it. And you know, that hay grew so high that you couldn't see a grown man if he were out in it. That's right, higher than a grown man. [Today a three foot hay crop is excellent.] Early attempts at farming were entirely oriented to subsistence. Rich black soil lay around the hardwood stumps. Farmers planted potatoes, carrots, and rutabagas; and rye, barley and oats in between the stumps. Soil was improved because the fires left enough potash to neutralize the acidic soil. The farmers were pleased with this rich black soil which for centuries had accumulated the composted leaves and twigs falling from the trees. You should have seen those potatoes Pa grew in between the roots of those stumps. His secret was to clear a spot of ground in the late fall and then plant potatoes there in the spring. Those potatoes 128 were like small footballs, and the cabbage and ruta- bagas grew big too. The farm provided the first generation with neces- sary food and shelter, but that was not enough. They needed money to pay off the loan interest and the land taxes. From the early 19005 up until the mid 19305, the average Finn River farmer needed approximately $100 a year to cover interest and taxes. They tried every possible means of making money. Beginning in November the adult male of the household logged his own land or hired himself out as a lumberjack for one of the local entrepreneurs holding a logging contract with a nearby sawmill. If he were lucky he might work until the beginning of April and would gross $400 at the very most. If he had a team of horses he might make as much as $600 to $700 hauling 1095 for a contractor. Although teamsters made more money, farmers were reluctant, because horses could be injured hauling and piling logs in winter, and it did not take many winters to wear out the work potential of a good horse. Horses were needed on the farm. Many woodsmen were paid in company script because two of the early contractors owned general stores in Finn River. This seemed to be the pattern all over the Upper Peninsula. Local logging contractors also owned the only, or one of the few general stores. This was quite an advan- tage to the entrepreneur. He could insure a steady supply of customers, and the company script he paid would all come 129 back to him in the store. The circulation of his own cur- rency within the community released a considerable portion of his own monetary reserves for capital investment to expand the scope of his logging operations. He could also deduct the "costs" of his wages from his taxes as if they were actually paid in monetary currency. Even if he paid his lumberjacks in dollars, the money would virtually all be recycled back to him since there were few other stores in the area. He could charge high prices either in his own script or in dollars because with few other stores around, his customers had no other shopping options and were unable to compare his prices with those of other retailers. At the end of March the lumberjack-farmer might have $350 saved, if it were an exceptionally good year. After paying the loan interest and land taxes, this amount would be reduced to $250. This would have to cover invest- ments in farm animals, farming equipment, tools, building supplies, rOpes, cattle and chicken feed, seed, household supplies, clothing which could not be made, and medicine, grocery, and blacksmithing bills. If any money were left over from these expenses, it went toward paying off the actual loan. Little money was made on Finn River farms in the early 19005. Farmers with larger herds could make about $1.75 a week selling a five gallon can of cream. When one considers the amount of milk a cow on winter feed must give 130 to make five gallons of cream, and the amount of work required to separate it, the money seems little. But every cent counted toward paying monetary expenses; and virtually every cent was saved. A culture of thrift evolved because monetary cost-minimization became the basic life style of the first generation Finn River pioneers. The husband received the cream money because it was he who transported it to the railroad depot. Some of the cream was churned into butter and along with the surplus eggs were exchanged at the general store in return for mone— tary credit toward items which were purchased. The butter and egg money belonged to the wife. However, she never actually touched this income; it was always applied to the grocery bill. Butter was worth 12¢ a pound and eggs were worth 10¢ a dozen. For the first generation, life was geared toward the hard physical work necessary for survival. Logging and sub- sistence farming were the fundamental economic activities, and they were determined by seasonal constraints.2 During winter, farming was restricted to milking and caring for the herd. LOgging was possible only during winter because the log hauling technology at the time was confined to the sleigh. Iced sleigh trails were necessary to overcome the friction between runners and the track surface. Horses 131 could not haul a load of logs in spring, summer or early fall. The solution to the problem of when to do which tasks was fixed by climatic variation. Men worked in the logging industry in the winter and worked fields during the summer. Women and children assumed full responsibility for the farm during the winter and in the summer divided their work between the hay fields and the household garden. In the lumber camps, an hour before daylight the camp foreman shouted, "Daylight in the swamp." Seasoned jacks jumped from their bunks and snatched the finest and driest wool socks and chOppers from the clothesline. Slower greenhorns ended up with "air conditioned" or damp socks and worn out choppers. Silence was the standing rule in the mess hall. A hungry jack could only speak to ask for food. The rule was designed to get them "chowed down" and out in the woods without wasting time, as well as to avoid arguments and brawls. Chow was the best available. These tarpapered shacks hosted some of the heartiest meals in the countryside. Breakfast was of gigantic proportions; eggs, bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, steaks, hot cereal, and especially flapjacks and Kayro corn syrup. Sandwich bread and cold cuts were usually at one end of the mess hall and after breakfast jacks made their own lunches. If the men were not working too far from camp or too widely scattered, a choreboy drove a lunch sled out to them at noon. 132 After breakfast the jacks returned to the bunkhouse, got their gear, and then walked into the woods. At the first crack of dawn sawyers were already working. They worked a shorter day than the other jacks because if they felled too many trees the "skidders" could not drag them all to the logging roads. "Swampers" were generally greenhorns or young men not thoroughly familiar with woodswork. They spent the entire day chopping and piling brush to clear skid trails to make it easier for the skidders to drag out the fallen timber. This was dangerous work because a razor sharp axe could bounce off a frozen sapling into a leg or foot. Swampers often chopped the limbs off fallen trees, also a dangerous job. Fallen trees often pinned down maple and birch saplings underneath the surface of the snow. When a swamper or sawyer chopped limbs from a fallen tree, he might unsuspectingly release a pinned down sapling that could spring back with enough force to smash a man's skull. Those with broken jaws, dislocated vertebrae, and fractured skulls were the most fortunate survivors of such accidents. A Jesuit missionary wrote of his first experiences working in the virgin forest: Another hemlock fallen the same day had its slender top bent like a bow between two smaller trees. As I walked along it, trimming off the branches, I cut loose a little birch tree that had been bent down by the hemlock. As it whipped back it hit me a stinging blow in the forehead. This caused me to fall down 15 feet into deep snow. I landed leaning backward and sprained my spine. That was not all. I climbed back on top 133 of the big hemlock and went on trimming away branches. Then my bouble-bit axe slightly caught on an over-hanging branch during my backswing and swerved as it came down, cutting through my left shoe and inflicting a deep wound on my left instep. The wound bled profusely and stained the snow as I hobbled home leaning on Peter's shoulder. (King, 1968: 14) Men who dragged logs to loading jammers on the main logging roads were referred to as "skidders." Skidding involved attaching a "choker" cable to one end of the log, and with a team of horses the log would be "skidded" along the "skidding trail" to the main logging road. Skidders also ran the risk of injuries, from spring poles. As soon as the big log began moving, spring poles flashed back and forth. If a sapling did not hit, it might catapult branches at a velocity that could seriously injure a man. If a man had his own team, he could make almost $2 a day skidding logs. Men were needed to pile logs onto the heavy sleighs. They used cabled hooks controlled by a pulley at the apex of an "A-frame" jammer, erected at a loading site on a main logging road. Two hooks grabbed the log and a team of horses pulled on the cable, raising the log over the sleigh where it would be lowered when in the correct position. When the last log was placed into position, the load was bound and chained. A careless load might result in the death of the teamster. Piling snow- and ice-covered logs was a particularly hazardous task. If one were not careful the load could easily collapse and crush a man beneath it. 134 An experienced loader could anticipate the danger and "do some very quick stepping" to avoid being crushed. It was common for men to die beneath a collapsed load. Perhaps one of the coldest jobs was driving a team of horses hauling a load of logs by sleigh. A teamster drove the horses sitting high on the top of the frozen, snow-covered log pile. Cold winds blew through his woolens. The teamster had no one to keep him company between the loaders to the jammer and the men in the Finn River railroad yard. Teenage boys were hired to pack down the sled runner trails with snowshoes and pour buckets of water to make ice layers to facilitate hauling large loads. Danger spots were steep downhill slopes where the load might gain its own momentum and run out of control, killing the horses and the driver. Boys scattered sand along such downhill slopes so the friction would prevent an accident. After the railroad came through, farmers fortunate enough to live near railroad spurs and to own a good team of horses would try to hire out as a teamster in winter. This way, they could earn money without living in a camp. Some of these farmers woke up at 3:00 A.M. to feed and water their horses so that they might be able to haul two loads of logs to Finn River. After unloading the second load, a teamster drove his team home for the night. Work did not end for him until later that night when the horses were rubbed down, 135 brushed, fed and watered. Teamsters worked the longest day. They were the first ones up and the last to go to bed. After an enormous dinner of either roast beef, pork chOps, ham, and perhaps venison, homemade bread, potatoes, rutabagas, and coffee with pie and cake for dessert, the well-stuffed jacks retired to the bunk house. While laying in their bunks, sawyers filed their saws, chewed Peerless, and carved wedges,setting them under the stove to dry for the next morning. Socks and choppers were hung up on the clotheslines over the stove, everyone silently looking for tomorrow's first choice. Some jacks played poker under the kerosene lanterns, some read books and newspapers, while most just lay back in their bunks and listened to someone's stories. Life was very difficult back on the farm. Whereas the men had only one job at a time, either woodswork in the winter or field work in the summer, women were left with dual responsibilities during the winter months. The woman of the household was left all alone to manage the farm, while at the same time keeping disciplined order within a usually very large family of children, and also managing the house- hold. According to John Kolehmainen, "the Dean of Finnish- American historians," "the overburdening of the woman with ‘work is an old custom with the Finns, passed on since pagan 'times, from one generation to the next“ (Kolehmainen, 1951: 59). 136 The woman of the household arose first to start the fire in the kitchen stove, make the morning coffee, and cook a breakfast of eggs and oatmeal. Then she and the children over six years old would go out into the barn and feed the cattle. Walking to the barn through snow drifts carrying a kerosene lantern was a dreaded journey after being so snug in bed, and then warm next to the wood stove. Feeding and watering the cows and horses was the first barn chore of the day, assuming the woman did not have to dig out a path through a snow drift covering the barn door. Then the cows' udders were washed by one of the children while the mother began milking by hand. After milking the woman shoveled manure and wheelbarrowed it out through the snowdrifts to the manure pile behind the barn. The farm woman then had to hurry back to the house to get the children ready for school, find their clothes, and get them dressed for the long walk to the one-room schoolhouse. If her children were very small, in addition to caring for them, she would also have to gather the eggs, feed and water the chickens, fill the woodbox, keep the fires burning, separate the cream and get it ready to deliver to the railroad depot, and churn butter to exchange with the storekeeper. If she needed groceries she would have to hitch up the horse to the sleigh, or if her husband were using the horse in the woods, she would have to ski to the store in 137 Finn River. Sometimes she would be able to jump onto a passing log sled and get a ride all the way there. In the afternoon she might bake bread and nisua (coffee bread), knit sweaters, socks or mittens for her family, darn socks, perhaps spin wool to make yarn, or weave rag rugs for the floors. After dinner it was time to do the barn chores again. Younger children stayed inside to wash and dry dishes. Their mother had to make the children study their school lessons. Perhaps after getting them off to bed she might have a chance to relax, while perhaps sewing a quilt. The woman also had to manage the household finances, deliver calves, and care for sick or injured animals. If her children were too young to work, she pumped water for the house and the animals, a dreaded task in cold winter. Outside water pumps were always frozen and generally required several trips back to the house for water to prime the pump. After filling the water barrels, she carried pails of water back into the house to fill the copper boilers and kettles. She also had to pull the sleigh bearing heavy barrels of water through the snow drifts back to the barn for the animals. If you walk through the Finn River cemetery and look at the residents' life spans, it is clear that the 'women died at younger ages than the men. While doing all this work, they were often either pregnant or nursing a 138 child. It occasionally happened that a woman would give birth to a baby at night and in the morning do the barn chores. If the weather permitted the man usually returned home from the lumber camp on Friday night. He could gen— erally ski directly home or ride the train to Finn River and ski home from there. His wife tried to get all the chores done earlier than usual so she would have time to visit with him. Saturday and Sunday were a bit of a rest for her because her husband might do some of the heavier work, if there were no sleighs, horse harnesses, or wagons to repair. Or he might saw ice chunks out of the frozen mass covering the river, and haul them to the ice house where they were covered with sawdust for next summer. The woman and chil- dren, however, still did all of the barnwork because that was considered "woman's work," and a man would appear deviant if he were to do such things. It was not until milking machines entered the local dairy industry that men began working in the barn. Machines needed a man's "know- how" to run properly. Saturday night was and still is sauna night. It was the man's job to fire up the sauna. On winter days this began early in the afternoon in order to thaw out the frozen cedar log walls. Older children carried in water as soon as it warmed up. Sauna visitors might come over. These were (and are) generally the closest of friends and family who had been going over for sauna for many years, and were 139 expected to come without invitation every Saturday night. The males from the visitor's family and then the females of the visitor's family would take a sauna. Cross-sexual saunas other than a husband and wife were not taken. After sauna everyone assembled around the kitchen table for coffee and pastries. Children ate quietly while the adults talked. As soon as the children finished, they ran to another section of the house to play, hidden from the surveillance of their parents. If one of the adult males began to tell stories the children might return to the kitchen, find a warm spot next to the stove and listen with keen interest. Sunday morning after the barn chores and breakfast the man and the oldest male child hitched up the team of horses and sleigh and everyone went to church. In the very early days of the settlement the community was so isolated that they had a preacher only once every two or three weeks. After hearing the sermon and singing the closing hymn, all went downstairs and visited over coffee and the noon meal. Men took one section of the dining room or perhaps went out— side for a smoke or chew and visited out there. After Sunday dinner a couple either visited a rela- tive or neighbor, or went home to receive visitors. It was a choice; generally the man preferred to stay home after being at the lumbercamp all week, and the woman wanted to go visiting after being on the farm all week. 140 The harsh winter placed real constraints on social life. It was difficult to go out and visit because of the time required, both to hitch up the team and drive to and from the neighbor's home meant being outdoors in the cold night air for a long time. Extremely cold nights precluded visiting. But Finn River peOple maintain that, despite apparent hardships, in "olden times" more visiting went on, because people had time for one another. Spring comes on very quickly in Finn River. When the spring thaw begins people are more cheerful. Settlers in a neighborhood in the northeast corner of Finn River awaited the rising flood waters of the river. The cabbage farmers there watched nervously as the floodwaters covered their fields and flooded their basements. Rowboats were used when- ever someone had to go to the village area of Finn River. In the blacksmith shop and the general stores men wondered aloud whether the bridges would be washed out. Some complained about getting stuck in knee-deep mud, while others cursed the prospect of walking on the slippery logs of corduroy roads.3 The early Finn River pioneers did very little traveling in the spring thaw, as the frost—heaved roads were impassible. Visits were confined to the near neighbors. Everyone waited for the last of the snow to melt and for the fields to dry. Men had a break from logging because for several weeks, roads were too muddy to travel. The break gave them a chance to catch up with their farm work. The women and older 141 daughters did the spring cleaning as the house was scrubbed from the floor to the ceiling with soap and water. Rugs and carpets were carried out and beaten by the younger children. As soon as the fields dried, toward the first of May, men began spring plowing. Stumps were easier to pull out in the soft water-soaked soil and the "war" against the forest began as blasting was heard throughout the busy settlement. Men plowed, and women and children planted the seeds in the garden. Other than plowing, the household garden was the domain of the woman of the house, and her children, under her supervision. People did specifically springtime activities. Trappers got their equipment ready for trapping beaver, muskrats, mink and coyotes. Woodsmen looked for coyote tracks and followed them to dens where they dug out the pups, killed them and collected the $15 or $20 bounties for them. Some families collected maple sap and boiled 40 gal- lons of it down to one gallon of maple syrup. Fishermen set their illegal nets and home-made fish traps when the spring rainbow run began. Men fixed harnesses and repaired wagon wheels, plows, and planters. Children worked in the barns, chicken coops, hay- fields and gardens. Since seeds are not digested in a cow's system, gardens fertilized with cow manure grow a thick crOp of weeds. Everyone in the second generation remembers weeding the garden while wanting to play. 142 Toward the end of June and the beginning of July the haymaking season began. Hay harvesting was a very important activity when there was little money for pur- chasing hay seed, because cows were fed cured hay in the barn for over six months of the year. No one was spared from haymaking; the very young and the very old all pitched in. Toddlers walked alongside the horses to chase flies off of them with elder branches. Those on the top "panked down" the load by jumping and stomping on the hay pitched up by their father, and perhaps uncle and older brother. In the earliest days of haymaking between stumps, men started cutting the hay just before daylight with a scythe and would quit by 10:00 A.M., as the day became too hot to work so intensely. After a day of drying, the next morning women and children raked the hay into piles while men out the next area to be harvested. Men afterwards carried these piles, bound by a green inch-thick elder pole, over their shoulders back to the haybarn where children jumped and played while scattering and packing the hay. If one had his hay out on the field and rain clouds appeared suddenly, neighbors helped each other gather it in. Later, hay was carefully piled on a hay wagon with a pitchfork. Someone rode the horsedrawn load back to the barn where it was unloaded by a large "hayfork." The mechanically Operated hayfork carried a mound of hay into the barn, and dumped its load when someone below tripped it by pulling a rope. 143 On Saint John's Day local Finns stopped working to celebrate. It was the twenty-fourth of June and the Finns called it Juhannus (midsummer). Bachelors hit the bars, and families attended large picnics. There was music, singing and dancing, and a grand feast. At night local people burned candles on the window sills. It was a time to cele- brate the Finnish cultural spirit. Just 10 days later Finn River people were celebrating the fourth of July. The American national holiday was a big event in the lives of the first generation pioneer farmers. Farmers and lumberjacks lined the streets of the nearby town to see the parade. Aside from celebrating the birth of the American nation, it was an excuse for persons isolated on a backwoods farm to go to town and see friends living beyond the narrow confines of their own neighborhood. For some of the Finns, it was a time to really celebrate, and a time for the more religious to quietly assemble in the church picnic site behind the parsonage. After the haymaking season the entire family went blueberry picking. Blueberries thrived in the burnt-over clearings. Each family packed their lunches, cookware, clothing and buckets into the wagon and drove out to the best blueberry grounds, 12 miles away. Many families went together, picked during the day, and sat around the campfire at night. It was a holiday for everyone, a special occasion. 144 Back at home the work really began. Pots of berries simmered on the stove as the women and older daughters canned them and made jams and jellies. For several weeks the house was so hot one could barely stand it in the kitchen. Fortunate women years later talked their husbands into building a "summer kitchen," usually attached to the sauna, for canning. The garden vegetables were also canned. Mother and children picked vegetables and again she and the older daughters cooked over the hot stove. In the fall a cooperative momentum swept the com- munity since the basic survival tasks had to be done quickly before the rains and winter snow. Grain harvesting pulled the community together as "threshing crews" moved from one farm to another. Each farmer would fall his own firewood logs and skid them to the woodshed in preparation for the woodcutting bees which also moved from farm to farm. The blocks were split and piled in the woodshed. Men and their horses plowed fields anxiously trying to finish before the rains made the soil into unworkable mud. Everyone went into the potato fields and with pitch- forks, manure forks, grub hoes and shovels, all dug potatoes, brushed off the sand and dumped them into gunny sacks. Potatoes were usually carried into the cellar underneath the house where the frost would not harm them. Rutabagas and turnips were washed and dipped in parafin for protection. Carrots were dug out in the early morning and buried in bins 145 filled with river sand. Apples were picked and wrapped carefully either in a sheet of newspaper or with a page of the Sears and Roebuck catalog and packed in crates to ripen later on in the winter. When it was cold enough to freeze, a cow or pig was generally slaughtered. The rainbow trout began their upstream journey, and the brown trout began their spawning run. Everyone was scurrying around busily trying to do just one more job before the snows fell. Adult men began oiling their rifles, sharpening hunting knives, and talking about where might be a good place to deer hunt on opening day. In the village area of Finn River farmers were talking to logging contractors who might need woodsworkers and teamsters. And once again the cycle started: adult men left their homes to make enough money to pay off the land taxes and the interest on their land loans. Adapting to a commercial world A pioneer Finn River farmer's basic problem was to scrape up enough money to pay monetary debts to loan com- panies, in a setting where few cash employment opportunities were available. A large reservoir of labor presented local logging contractors with a buyer's market. Local merchants enjoyed a seller's market because the nearest competition was nine miles away. To the immigrant farmers it seemed as 146 though wherever they turned, "profit-seekers" were trying to take advantage of them. In response to these pressures, the first generation Finns began to close ranks and shut themselves off from the exploiting and hostile world. Relying upon their old country cultural traditions they developed an exchange system within the community as a means of c0ping with their prob— lems. Several social organizations were intentionally created by the immigrant farmers to cope with their economic distress by orienting collective activity toward the goal Of minimizing economic costs. To the immigrant Finnish farmer, the outside, English- 5peaking world was filled with sinful knaves who would take economic advantage of poor people. Every now and then farmers heard of another farmer losing his land for failing to make the interest payments on the loan. Periodically an English-speaking bill collector working for the absentee loan companies traveled through the area "visiting" farmers who were late making payments. Several of the second gen- eraton remember how nervous everyone suddenly became when a member of the family would alarmingly whisper, "Here comes an English-speaking stranger." For the Finnish farmers moving into the Finn River area there was no immediate escape from ethnic conflicts. 147 Even though most of the French moved away to nearby sawmill towns, those staying in the area were not trusted. Several French families lived adjacent to the Cabbage Road neighbor- hood toward the east in what is called French Hill. Finns in Finn River also disliked the Swedes.4 They felt as though the Swedes still believed themselves superior so they resented and excluded Swedes from the community social life. In the early days of Finn River's settlement there were four Swedish families living in the area. All of them had arrived 15 years earlier, and because of their head start, were more prosperous than the Finns. The Swedes interacted mainly with other Swedes and French Canadians. Both of these ethnic groups thought the Finns were "clannish" because Finns refrained from extend- ing their social life to others. They resented this social exclusion. In the nearby town, ethnic relations between Swedes and Finns were different than in Finn River. Between the two places a Swedish farming settlement was established. Further east, the town was the scene of many fights between Swedes and Finns. As a Swedish lumberjack told me over a beer, 148 It has been so that the Finns did not dare go alone on the streets after dark, so they always had to go in bunches. The Swedes were always watching for the Finns so that if they'd come they'd get the best of them. SO . . . was a young man then. He was still single. The Finns planned it that they'd put . . . going ahead alone and the other ones would watch to see if the Swedes came after him. He was a trained man, so he had hit that first Swede a glancing blow that ripped his ear off and he started screaming. But that didn't stop the rest of them, and they all got into a pretty big fight. He was six foot four and raw boned. NOt an ounce of fat. And a very peaceful man; but he was nobody to go and fool around with. Remember that . . . who had a farm here and ran that saloon in . . . ? The Swedes used to hang out there and sometime a Finn would come in there by himself and the Swedes would bunch up on him and get the best of him. Once a Finn had a gun and when the Swedes jumped him he shot that . . . in the arm. After experiencing ethnic discrimination in the mining towns with the "Cousin Jacks" and the Irish, and in the sawmill towns with the Swedes and the French Canadians, the Finns closed ranks and formed communities of their own kind. To this very day Finn River is perceived by out- siders in nearby towns as a closed community inhabited by Finns who “like to keep to themselves," and who resent intrusions into their community affairs. For the early immigrants, Finn River became the neutral center of a hostile world surrounded by unfriendly and exploiting people. Finns learned to trust and cooperate with one another. As the first generation Finn River residents with! drew from the larger local society, they fell upon the adaptive features of their own cultural tradition. Not 149 unlike other ethnic groups, the Finns had old traditions of COOperation. Since ancient times there has always been the communal labor festival for larger building projects such as houses, churches, barns, cooperative stores, and church boats in Finland. There are also grain harvesting and wood- cutting communal labor festivals. Seal hunting and salmon fishing were masculine communal activities in Finland. Kinsmen and neighbors left home together and camped out on river banks and in the forests for many days for these activities. A tradition peculiar to Finnish rural culture cen- ters around the community church boat. Finland is inter- penetrated with interconnected rivers and lakes that provided for many years a natural transportation system. Each come munity built its own church boat and all of the men, women and children pitched in. Every Sunday morning the entire community traveled in this boat by a river route to their church. Often different communities raced. Keen rivalry developed, and certain communities had reputations for having more cooperation and hence a more beautiful and effective church boat than others. The extent of community COOperation was symbolized by the quality and appearance of the boat, which was a statement of the community's status with regard to other early settlements. The pioneer Finn River farmers had within their old country cultural heritage a set of beliefs focusing upon the necessity Of mutual aid as a means to struggle against a 150 very harsh climate. In spite of the very limited resources of these people, belief in the legitimacy of various forms of interfamilial pooling of labor and economic resources gave them the collective strength to "make a go of it." In 1904 a group of Finn River farmers pooled their meager resources and purchased a steam powered threshing machine for $700. That was far more than an individual farmer could afford to pay for a piece of machinery to be used on his own farm only a couple of days a year. Shares were sold for $10 each. Many of the farmers wanted the organization to be a cooperative by intentionally separating a member's investment from his political influence within the organization. But they could not mobilize enough money to meet the necessary $700, so some of the members had to buy considerably more shares than others. Interested par- ties had a meeting and four men said they would pitch in the balance, but they demanded one vote per share, which would transform the organization into a corporate structure. Mem- bers voted to go along with it even though they disliked the inequality, because they really had no other choice. Several members withdrew their shares on the grounds that this very decision would give a few more influence within the company and within the community, and "this would be planting the seeds for further troubles." The four men investing the most money had enough votes between them to decide company policy. 151 A price of $2.50 per setting was decided upon. There were no price advantages for members, but their fields were threshed before nonmembers'. A farmer could have up to 100 bushels threshed for the $2.50, and anything beyond that quantity cost approximately 2¢ per bushel. The company generally lost money threshing rye because there is such a high proportion of straw per bushel of grain. Both hayseed and peas were threshed at an hourly charge. Grain harvesting season is short in the Upper Penin- sula. Everyone works anxiously to beat the fall rains. The first problem confronting the new threshing company was whose grain would be harvested first? Members decided that the thresher would travel on a specified route. It traveled up and down the farm roads, stopping at adjacent farms. One year it started at the North Road part of Finn River and worked north and east toward the Finn River village area. To avoid inequities, the following year the thresher would begin at the other end of the line in Finn River and work its way back toward the North Road area. Even though the political structure of the organi- zation was corporate, it was essentially a non—profit organization designed to get the members' grain threshed. One year after the expenses were paid, it had a balance of $180. The sum was divided among the members, and the following year the fee was reduced to a level which the membership expected to put the company just beyond the break-even point. 152 The members with disproportionate political influ- ence did manage to take advantage of their position, and get a few favors. If a nonmember wanted his grain threshed or wanted to become a member, "he had to get in good with one of the big shareowners first." The president's office was generally held by one of the larger shareholders. Since the number of members had to be restricted in order to get the grain harvested before the fall rains, the community needed several threshing companies. In the Finn River area there were several other threshing organizations, and all of them were "small scale profitmaking" operations designed primarily for getting the grain harvested. Spruce Creek had a threshing company; a man from Cabbage Road worked all over the Finn River area with his own thresher; there was a threshing company working in and around the village area of Finn River; some- one worked the Hemlock Siding area, and another worked around M-35 and the Mill Road area. One person was generally hired by the company to oversee all threshing operations, and to maintain the thresher. This job usually went to the son or another close relative of one of the larger shareholders. Threshing was a big event in the lives of the Finn River farmers. It was one of the most exciting activities the isolated families had to look forward to. A great deal of preparation was necessary for the family hosting the threshing crew. All of the grain had to be cut with a 153 scythe and stacked in the barn, ready to go into the thresher. A large pile of hardwood was split and piled where the steam engine would sit. Children collected "gunny sacks," and binder twine was gathered into rolls. The woman of the household began cooking days in advance for the large threshing crew and all the neighbors who would come to watch. It was very essential for all the preparatory work to be done so that the threshing crew was not delayed. Time was very scarce because the fall rain season approached rapidly. All the hurried, last minute preparation stimulated the expectations and imagination of everyone in the family, making the event even more exciting. Children stayed home from school to watch that big threshing machine all the activities. Early in the morning of a family's threshing day, the woman of the house began cooking a large breakfast for the neighbors and threshing operator coming in for the tra- ditional morning coffee before starting to work. She knew the children would forget all about their chores once the excitement started and she would not have time to supervise them, so she made them hurry to get chores done early. Soon neighbor men converged upon their farm. It was the neighbors' turn to help on the threshing operation because soon the thresher would be at their homes. When they and the thresher arrived, they set it up near but not too close to the granary and straw barn because the chimney 154 belched smoke and sparks when threshing began. They also fired up the boiler. The woman of the household invited her neighbors to come in. The threshing crew then walked to the door and wiped their feet carefully on the doormat so they would not track dirt onto the kitchen floor. The family sat around the table and listened closely as the men talked about the threshing operations and problems encountered along the road. The hostess urged them to eat more nisua and have another cup of coffee. The neighbor men politely accepted and complimented her on the quality of her nisua: She blushed and dismissed the compliment, but everyone in the kitchen knew that it was "sweet music to her ears." This was her big day. It was her chance to demonstrate before all the neighbors her skills as a cook. As the men walked out to their jobs, they thanked her for the coffee. The threshing operator assigned jobs and the hard work began. Threshing generally required a crew of five to seven men. If sheaves were in the barn or in the field, two teams carried them to the thresher. One man Operated the thresher, feeding firewood into the furnace and carrying water to fill the boiler. Children old enough carried water. They also might help carry the straw into the barn and pack it down. Smaller ones watched and played. Someone cut the twine off the sheaves and fed them into the hopper. The thresher operator watched the bushels filling the tipping into the sacks, and kept count of the 155 volume. Generally the man owning the farm held, exchanged and tied gunny sacks as they filled with grain. Another worker carried the heavy grain-filled sacks into the granary. Someone else gathered straw into piles, and perhaps with the help of the older children, carried it to the barn. In Figure 18 is a photograph of a threshing crew at a farm in the Church Road neighborhood, taken in 1910. On the left next to the steam engine is a pile of firewood and a water barrel. The very long belt kept the spark-snorting steam engine a safe distance from straw-filled barns. The sheer weight of this belt maintained enough friction on the pulleys to prevent slippage. Remains of a pine stump still stand in the middle of the yard. In the distance one can see the forest's edge, the battle line between the pioneers and nature. Notice by the size of the children that they are not very far apart in age. Women were very busy making the second generation. In this photo they seem to be wearing their "Sunday best." Figure 19 shows a working crew. At noon the farmer's wife announced it was time to eat. The men washed outside by the well and soothed their parched throats with a drink of cool water. Inside on the kitchen table was the finest dinner the woman could provide. Chicken was about the best anyone could do at that time of the year, and the threshing machine Operator managed to smile so as not to offend the hostess, as he sat down to his seventh straight chicken dinner. Plenty of chicken, potatoes, and vegetables were there and the woman of the 156 Figure 18. Figure 19. Finn River Threshing Days. Threshing Crew at Work. 157 house, helped by a relative or neighbor woman, encouraged everyone to eat more. Threshing days were a very serious time for the woman of the household. A woman's self-worth was determined by how successfully she performed the roles of wife and mother. An important attribute of each role was her cooking skill. Men complimented her and she blushed and insisted that her meal was not very good at all. But she would study very carefully the expressions of the men while they ate. The men in turn were very careful to express favorable gestures. After the main course all were confronted with home— made pies, cakes, and plenty of coffee. Men conversed with one another, stOpping every now and then to compliment the hostess. They might have said, "I've been on this threshing crew for three days now and this is the best pie I've had yet," and several others would echo in agreement. She knew exactly where the threshing machine had been, and she men- tally compared her performance with that of the nearby neighbor women. She also knew that after the men left her kitchen they would eat in the kitchen of the next neighbor woman down the road, so she had better do a good job. The traveling threshing crews generated mild competition among the women of the community. As an old thresher operator told me, "Everyone tried to outdo the others. She made sure her very best was on the table. But do you know, even to 158 this day I don't want to see any more chicken or lemon meringue pie." Threshing bees were not simply working occasions but a time for festive enjoyment. Very warm feelings were created as the receiving family experienced gratitude. Their neighbors "felt good inside," since by working together for a neighbor they were experiencing the joy that comes when circumstances permit one's actions to match deep-seated values. Emotions surrounding this ritual are blended with gaiety as laughter and storytelling capture the attention. Folks went home at night feeling very good. Threshing bees as well as other communal labor events gave each individual an opportunity to place himself into a perspective along with other members of the local neighborhood. Normally personal existence was immersed in the family context, but such communal assemblages allowed each to determine his standing vis-a-vis a neighbor peer. Men were very eager to demonstrate being a "hard worker," one of the highest achievements possible in this: physical setting. Very subtly, and sometimes openly, they competed to see who could do a job most quickly. It was especially a time for younger men to demonstrate that they could work alongside the older men. Youths were enthusi— astic. At times the older men winked at one another upon seeing a young man run ahead of them to carry the last sack of grain to the granary. 159 The threshing bees were a very central part of the community life that lasted for almost 40 years until the mid 19305. Then, almost overnight, technological innovation and the diffusion of a new grain harvesting technology eliminated communal threshing events. The new store-bought machine was called a "combine," and it eliminated the need for an alter— nating crew traveling throughout the community. Now with the help of a machine which could be purchased from a modern factory far away, the help of the neighbors was no longer essential in the grain harvest. And so ended the rotating labor crews, the child's excitement upon seeing the puffing and snorting thresher. And the hungry crews no longer sat down in the fall to the best meal a woman could offer. Today the Finn River residents look back upon the threshing days with a warm nostalgia. They feel vaguely as though something valuable has been lost but they are unable to say what it is. Communal labor harvesting rituals tied the people together, and a change in the mode of production rendered this social form obsolete. An old man, staring away, gazing without a clear focus at the fields behind his sauna, said, "It was really something to see that thresher coming up your road. Yep, that was really something to us kids who did not have very much in those days." In a climate where winter actually lasts for over six months and temperatures go as low as 40 degrees below zero, home heating fuel is a serious concern. Early homes were constructed of solid logs anywhere from 8 to 10 inches 160 thick that provided a very good insulation from the cold air. Hardwood forests, generally maple or birch, were the source of fuel used by the early pioneers. Most homes had two stoves, a cooking stove in the kitchen and a heating stove in the living room. Both burned all day long, and just before bedtime, a big block was thrown into each firebox to burn slowly during the night. Sometimes it was a slightly green block because green burns slower, and was more likely to last throughout the night. In the morning, the woman of the house scattered the remaining hot coals, drOpping in a few sticks of cedar kind- ling and a few pieces of split and dried hardwood. In five minutes both stoves were crackling and popping as the heat once again radiated throughout the house. "Making wood," as the Finn River folk say, requires very strenuous physical labor, yet it was essential to sur- vival. During a year, each household burned 25 to 40 cords (4'x8'xl6‘) of hardwood. To make the task easier for every- one and to make sure that every family had enough firewood for the winter, the early immigrants organized woodcutting bees. Bees were generally held in October after the fields were harvested and plowed, after fall rains ended and when the air was brisk and cool. Labor exchanges worked along the same principles as the threshing companies. Either a private- or company-owned circular saw driven by a two- cycled gasoline engine moved along the farm roads with crews, stopping at adjacent farms. As the group went further down 161 the road one farmer left the rotating labor crew and another one joined as the saw approached his farm. Again a great deal of preparation was required of the individual farmer, so that the crew would not be held up. Earlier in the year a farmer felled several dozen big hard- wood trees, cut off the limbs and let them dry out in the woods thoroughly. Before the saw came around to his farm, he and his older sons harnessed their team of horses and skid the logs out of the woods, and across the fields, piling them next to the wood shed. Sometimes they cut smaller trees in eight to ten foot lengths so that a man could carry them onto a wagon. Early in the morning neighbors gathered in the yard and visited with one another. After the circular saw appara- tus was assembled next to the pile of logs, the men responded to the call for coffee. After the coffee ceremony and com- pliments to the cook for her fine nisua, all began to work. One man ran the saw, two men held logs while they were being cut, and several others picked up the blocks and tossed them into a pile next to the woodshed. The work team did not split the blocks; each indi- vidual farmer did his own. Splitting required a two to three week ordeal of strenuous and dangerous work. Blocks were split with a sledge and piled in the woodshed. Some- times they were delicately piled outdoors with a certain care for the aesthetic touch. Generally larger pieces were stacked on the bottom of the pile and smaller ones toward 162 the top. One Finn River man even measured each and every block, and carefully out each into l4-inch lengths. This was of course an eccentric habit. The woodcutting bee was a great labor-saving event for the individual farmers. Many hours of exhausting work was saved by each individual farmer as his neighbors helped him saw firewood blocks. He could never have afforded to purchase the circular saw just for his own use. For a very small fee, his winter's wood was cut. Once again, the work was very enjoyable. Communal labor events were seasoned with pranks, joking, who-can-work- the-fastest competition, coffee ceremonies, and grand feasts at noon. So enjoyable were these events that a spectator would find it difficult deciding whether the participants were working or simply enjoying each other's company. Today, as with the old threshing days, Finn River residents look back nostalgically at the old woodcutting bee. warm feelings among the neighbors were created as they joyfully worked, making sure that each.family survived the coming winter in the warm, cozy comfort that only a wood fire can give. Now they wish they still had the woodcutting bees. Woodcutting bees were eliminated by the invention and diffusion of oil fueled furnaces and bottle gas stoves. After the great Depression, in the latter 19305 and early 19405 families slowly began to adopt kerosene and fuel Oil space heaters. It was not long before most of the households 163 completely converted to modern cooking and heating fuels. Again a technolOgical innovation invented many miles away and produced in a modern factory entered the life of the community, and in the process eliminated a cooperative ritual. Even before the Mineral Range Railroad entered Finn River in 1900, it had a general store. It was located a half mile north of where the central village area afterwards developed. The store sold dry goods, groceries, hardware, and even farming supplies. At first, the owner, an old French Canadian, hauled his goods by horse and buggy from the nearest town. When the Mineral Range came through, he promptly moved his store adjacent to the tracks on the northern side to facilitate unloading merchandise. The storekeeper bought seed, cattle feed, and other farming supplies in large quantities and resold it to the Finnish farmers at a profit. Many of the socialist Finns resented any merchant making a profit from "helping the people." Gradually resentment accumulated as the store- keeper continued profiting at the expense of their neighbors. Whenever possible small groups of farmers circumvented him, pooled their resources and purchased directly from a whole- sale.distributor. In 1912 a larger general store was built across the street from the first. This new storekeeper spoke Finnish with the local farmers and invited them up into his kitchen to participate 164 in the Finnish coffee ceremony. By making very salient his ethnic bond, he won most of the business in Finn River. In the beginning he cut prices to compete with the other mer- chant, who had a long list of Finns who owed him money and were obligated to continue patronizing his store. The new storekeeper became a modest logging contrac- tor and gave impoverished farmers credit at his store if they would work for him as lumberjacks in the winter. Most of his men were paid in his own company script, a paper voucher entitling the man to credit in proportion to the amount he worked. Because of his Finnish nationality, his store, and his logging outfit, he occupied a very strategic place in the local exchange system. This newcomer's structural position was that of a "broker" mediating between the local farmers and the external cash economy at two points in the system. He mediated the "money-for-essential-supplies" transaction for goods coming into the community, making a monetary gain through that channel. His new position in the exchange network allowed him to also mediate between the woodsmen and the sawmills, thus converting the logs into more money. With more money he could afford to give more credit to poor families thereby insuring a steady supply of long-term customers and also a labor supply for logging Operations. With his surplus cash he could expand his lOg- ging operations by purchasing woodlands and logging equipment. 165 The French Canadian could not withstand the new com- petition. It was not long before he hired a manager. A French Canadian merchant could never withstand competition from a Finn in the middle of a solid Finnish population. He could not even speak their language, and was forced to hire Finnish women to run the store. This additional labor cost also hastened his financial distress. Figure 20 presents a graph of the Finn River eco- nomic exchange network between 1912 and 1917. Local merchants mediated egg and butter transactions between farm women and mining town grocery stores. They acted as inter- vening small scale wholesalers of these products. In return they gave "credit" in lieu of cash. That is, the women loaned the storekeeper their butter and egg money until they made a purchase when they would be paid back in essential goods. By giving a farm family credit the local merchant insured himself of a long-term customer. It was expected that a debtor should give his creditor business in return for getting credit. Also by not having to give the women money the storekeeper had a greater capacity to buy a wider variety of merchandise. This also increased the dependence of the local consumers on him. The merchant profited by the egg and butter exchange with farm women. 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I I I m .I a I 0 1:! .L I m .4 e c 1. n ”w — m - .1 4H..- 1 a _ _ . - 167 Even with a manager, the Old shopkeeper could not compete with the shrewd new one, and it was not very long before most of the customers did business at the new store. The blacksmith's shop in Finn River was a place where men gathered to visit while their wives were shopping. In winter and on rainy days in summer one could see several men squatting, "shooting the bull." The blacksmith was the informal leader of the socialists in Finn River. He was very skilled at his trade and had a reputation for his work. Even now one hears remarks about the "business integrity" he had. He was also very articulate and well read and versed in socialist ideology. He saw that the shopkeepers were making substan- tial profits from their stores, and he began telling peOple. Farmers all over the Finn River area began to think of ways to circumvent the local merchants as middlemen. Seed, tarpaper and cattle feed could be purchased at whole- sale prices only in very large quantities, most often a railroad carload. Some farmers got together with their neighbors, pooled their money to buy seed from wholesalers at a considerable savings over seed bought through one of the local merchants. It was not long before the other far- mers heard of the savings and how the local merchants were profiting, and they, too, wanted to get into these organized purchasing activities. Things got worse for the economically distressed farmers before they got better. The new merchant won most 168 of the business, and as competition became increasingly less threatening he raised his prices. In 1917 a local Finn bought the French Canadian's store. He was the son of one of the struggling farmers and was short on capital along with the others. The other Finnish merchant offered to buy one-half interest in the store, and the new Finnish store- owner agreed to this deal. The two men kept their partner- ship secret. Interestingly enough there was never any pricing competition between them. The blacksmith compared prices and asked the clerks some questions. He knew immediately that the two local mer- chants had agreed to minimize competition. Back in his shop he told the farmers that the two shopkeepers were conspiring to keep prices high, and the farmers were outraged. It was not until many years afterward that the community learned that the two Finns were secret partners in one of the stores. For several years the farmers had managed to pool their cash resources to buy carloads of seed, cattle feed, and other farming supplies. Cooperative stores were suc- cessful in the Finnish mining towns and in Minnesota, so several of the farmers and socialists got together and decided to start one on a very small scale. Respected far- mers from the different neighborhoods of Finn River met together in 1917. They drew up a charter and began selling shares to all interested parties. It was a true cooperative because 169 one's voting power was explicitly separated from the number of shares he owned. At the end of the year the profit bal- ance after expenses was to be divided among the members in proportion to the amount of their purchases for that year. They elected a board of directors and provided for regular elections every two years. The two shOpkeepers were outraged and started com- plaining to the wholesalers; they threatened to boycott on the grounds that as local merchants they could not afford to lose the farmer's business. The wholesalers sold to anyone who wanted to buy, and ignored the panicking local mer— chants. The two merchants boycotted the wholesalers but even that did not affect the continuing flow of large pur- chases of farming essentials. One shopkeeper personally incited a local communist scare campaign in his church. He pointed out that "commu- nists in Russia kill the preachers and burn the churches, and that's what might happen here if this godless organiza— tion grows in strength." Some of the church members avoided the cooperative store because the socialists did in fact play the biggest role in founding the organization. In Finn River as in many other Finnish immigrant communities, "socialism was the father of the cooperative movement" (Kohehmainen, 1951: 104). But through the influence of two respected local farmers, the Christian farmers began to see that the cash savings outweighed fears of "the communist take-over." 170 Many farmers heard of the significant savings they could have by purchasing through the cooperative, and mem- bership expanded so quickly that the young organization ran into management problems. Initially only two dedicated farmers distributed most of the purchased goods to the mem- bers on their own time and expense. But soon the job demanded more and more time until they were forced to either do less of the work or see their own farms deteriorate. Members began taking regular turns at coordinating and dis- tributing the farm-related merchandise. As more farmers joined and bought shares, this arrangement became very dif- ficult to control. The members decided that the sheer demand for joint purchases justified creating a farmers' cooperative market to store and coordinate the distribution of farming essentials. After $1,400 was collected they started to construct a building and were about three-fourths finished when they ran out of money. The directors voted to sell the building as it was in order to repay those farmers who invested their hard-earned dollars in it. But the mem- bership protested and went to the next meeting in force. They were determined to have their own cooperative store, so they decided to sell more shares, and they raised enough money to finish the building. In the latter part of 1917 they Opened the Farmers' COOperative Trading Company. It had a small inventory which was underwritten by individual mem- bers with good credit ratings in the external economy. 171 A man who had years earlier successfully operated a general store in a nearby farming community was elected as the first manager. He had developed a good credit rating with many outside wholesale companies, and he was trusted and respected by both the Christian and Socialist farmers. He was alotted a small salary and the COOp began operating. Soon the Farmers' Cooperative Trading Company began to offer a wider variety of merchandise. Customers came from other areas miles away from Finn River to do business with the store. It grew so that it was necessary to hire one clerk, and then another. But the Farmers' Cooperative store was not by any means over its main obstacles. The ideological conflicts resulting from the diverse base of support still remained. After the success of the Russian Revolution, some of the members of the socialistic Finnish Workers Federation wanted to merge their organization with the American Com- munist Party. From 1918 until 1926 Communism was an attrac- tive ideal for some of the militant Finnish workers. Members of the Finnish Workers Federation built halls throughout the countryside in the Upper Peninsula, Minnesota and Wisconsin to provide a place for cultural activities for their people. It was also a place to educate the immi- grants into the doctrines of socialism. Around 1912, a socialist hall was built on the main road of Finn River. On the weekends, large dances attracted people for many miles. Young people danced and went 172 "courting" afterwards. Boys from Finn River usually "had it out" with boys from the nearby sawmill town before the night was over. Occasionally a speaker would lecture on the prin- ciples of socialism. In the latter part of the 19205, perhaps in the spring of 1928, a local "Christian"'got a whiff of something funny in the air." He noticed some of the local socialists who had actually joined the American Communist Party talking busily near the blacksmith shop, and in the streets of Finn River. Some entered the Farmers' COOperative Trading Com- pany store and tried peddling their newspapers and literature. He had the feeling they were planning some- thing, but was unsure of their intentions. A few days later he heard that in Covington and Bruce Crossing, local com- munists were trying to take over the cooperatives. The "Christian" went over to the blacksmith shop to get his horse shoed and see what he could find out. The blacksmith was the ringleader of the local communists. He soon learned the communists and a few socialists were plan- ning a move to gain control of the Board of Directors of the Coop. They were trying to get each of their comrades to transfer their shares to their children and wives, thereby increasing the numbers of communist votes in the annual meeting. They would elect only hard-core socialists and communists to the new board. According to the by-laws of the Farmers' COOperative Trading Company, shares could not be transferred without the 173 Board of Directors' approval. It was to be a gradual move so as not to attract attention. The board would be unaware of the goal behind the seemingly uncoordinated transfers. The "Christian" passed the word to the other board members and urged them not to approve any share transfers to com- munists, but only those transfers to church people. He then traveled around the community persuading the church members to spread their shares throughout their respective families. At the meeting, the communist candidates were outvoted. After the election, the Farmers' Cooperative Trading Company lost its communist stigma, and more of the church people began patronizing it. Outside Finn River the Finnish Workers' Federation never did become very enthusiastic about communism and only 18% of the membership joined the American Communist Party. Finns resented the iron discipline of the party, the abandon- ment of their language at party meetings, the loss of democratic freedom, and more importantly the party's insis- tence upon only serious proletarian struggle and condemnation of "hall socialism." Socialists were like the other members of the F.W.W. insofar as the most exciting thing about their brand of socialism were the dances, Finnish songs and cul- tural activities held in the halls. Two factors eventually led the cooperative store into a practice of making "gains" on purchases for the farmers. As more members joined the rolls, volume increased to the point that a manager, clerks and various 174 personnel were needed to cope with the growing administra- tive work. As the organization grew in size, it assumed the characteristics of a bureaucratic structure, which added organizational support costs to the financial picture. A certain amount of gain from the wholesale to retail transfer of goods went for paying administrative overhead. Secondly, wholesale prices vary according to large volume supply and demand fluctuations. Instances occurred where farmers paid different prices for the same volume of feed due to the difference in wholesale prices at the time of the purchase. In the very dense community, news of cost inequities traveled quickly, and heated arguments developed rather frequently. The manager simply bought at the best prevailing wholesale price, charged a margin to cover admini— strative overhead and sold it to the individual farmer at that resulting price. Arguments between angry farmers and the manager were carried into the meetings, and charges of "favoritism" were thrown at the managers and board members. Finally they decided upon a price standardization system to avoid further inequities. To avoid problems in paying wholesalers and covering administrative costs, standards were necessarily set by the highest wholesale price levels. Afterwards if farmers received goods purchased at the cheaper wholesale prices, it was not reflected in the retail trans- fer, and the COOperative store was making a profit. Other forms of adaptation to the economic setting involving the internal social organization of exchange 175 patterns did not involve a joint purchase of fixed capital, but merely the collective mobilization of labor for the benefit of either the entire community, a subgroup of Finn River residents, or a nuclear family unit. As one walks down the farm roads of Finn River one is struck by the physical outcomes of these communal labor rituals. Six neighborhood one-room schoolhouses, three churches, a COOp- erative store, a post office, most of the barns, a multitude of saunas, and many of the farmhouses stand as a testimony to the force of Finn River communal labor. A family just moving into the community was intro- duced to the collective exchange system in a very powerful way. During the course of visiting with the neighbors, the new man might mention his desire to have a barn built. Socialized into perceiving the needs of others, the neighbor might offer to get some of his neighbors and a portable saw- mill over as soon as the newcomer skidded a sufficient pile of logs to the proposed building site. One day the neighbors assembled to saw all the lumber necessary for the barn. After allowing the lumber enough time to dry, they assembled on a Sunday after church to build the barn. The farm women came to help with the cooking, and the children played with one another. The atmosphere was festive, and everyone appeared to have fun and enjoy the company of one another. The following Sunday the new barn was finished, and everyone stood around and admired the fruits of their collective labor. 176 The receiving family was usually overwhelmed with gratitude. People they did not even know came to help them. Several people have actually cried while telling me about the feelings they had for the people who pitched in to help them. Overwhelmed by an emotional sense of gratitude, the new- comers concluded that Finn River was a good place to start their new life. They vowed to do whatever was in their power to help their neighbors when in need. The next time a barn raising event occurred in Finn River, the recent receivers of help did their share of the work. The event functions as an initiation ritual into the community exchange system. A new family receiving the out- come of the communal labor ritual felt as though they owed an unpayable debt to their neighbors and the entire commun- ity. When fire destroyed a home, the community assembled to immediately build a new house. Furniture destroyed in the fire was replaced with the extra chairs and tables of their friends. Quilts stored in the attics for extra com- pany were given to the unfortunate family, along with clothes and food. A local belief and practice in social responsibility was the only form of insurance the poor farmers had to help them through these disasters. Other cost minimization exchange transactions flowed between individual farmers rather than between a family and the larger community. Several farmers jointly purchased land. They all loaned each other their limited 177 supply of equipment and tools. While clearing land, farmers loaned their neighbors their only horse to make for a more powerful team to pull stumps. Everyone felt free to borrow everything from chains to a cup of sugar. They learned to minimize monetary expenses for fixed capital by sharing. As the new farm machinery was adopted throughout the local countryside, Finn River residents shared their equipment with neighbors to cut monetary expenses. One neighbor might own a plow, another one a disc, and by sharing equipment they cut expenses significantly. Since money was so scarce, neighbors exchanged labor without transacting actual currency. Farmers calculated the amount of work they either gave or received in terms of the very loose unit of "a day's work." Each farmer remembered the number of days he owed his neighbor, and they worked it out in such a way that at the end of the year it would be even. If by the end of the year a farmer owed his neighbor a few days work, then the following year that small balance might shift in the other direction. Guiding neighborly labor exchanges was a norm of virtual unconditional social responsibility. Whenever a neighbor needed help, a man would drop almost anything he was doing to aid him. Each farmer relied upon his neighbors and kinsmen to borrow tech- nology and receive labor in a long-lasting exchange bond guided by the unspoken rule, "thou shall not expect money in return." A network of personal exchange alliances helped 178 the pioneers survive under the pressures of the external cash economic system. Costs of medical insurance and hospital care were eliminated by the hard work and skill of the women. Home remedies passed down through generations were used when the doctor was unavailable. Midwives delivered most of the second generation Finn River babies. When a neighbor woman was sick and bedridden, her neighbor lady would come over to perform her duties, and care for her. Very often an oldest daughter would go to a neighbor's farm to stay with a family while the mother was bedridden. If a man were bedridden, the men of the neighborhood would see to it that the man's work was "done and done right." As we have seen, one approach the Finn River pioneers adopted in c0ping with insufficient monetary resources was to organize collective exchange processes so that they mini- mized their need for cash. Their old country cultural traditions and the socialist emphasis on the importance of yhteishyva (the common good) provided ideological guidance for the community's adaptation through the reorganization of collective exchange. Cost-minimizatiOn communal exchange rituals provided security for the individual nuclear family unit. By relying upon the outcomes of the communal activi- ties, each family was insured of grain for flour and animal feed, and cooking and heating fuel for the winter. The Finn River historical patterns of the collective exchange behaviors was not oriented only toward minimization of 179 costs, but also toward the maximization of profits in eco- nomic transactions with the outside world. To the local socialists yhteishyva referred only to the local people. One heard no objections to making profits at the expense of outsiders. The outside world was evil, greedy, and predatory, and it was not immoral to make a profit in intercommunity transactions. Finn River farmers decided very early that price fixing arrangements would enable each family farm unit to maximize their monetary return when they exchanged products with the external economy. It was considered immoral for the local merchants to make a profit and to conspire to avoid competition at the expense of their neighbors. Yet in transactions with outsiders price-fixing actions were accep- table. Ideological legitimation was linguistically achieved by calling such activities "cooperative marketing." Just as they pooled their meager monetary resources to minimize costs by making larger joint purchases, Finn River residents pooled their products to minimize interfamily competition within the community. This gave them a measure of control over the supply conditions faced by wholesalers, and allowed them to circumvent wholesalers whenever possible. Just as the repeated joint purchases evolved into a perman- ent exchange channel circumventing local merchants, repeated collective selling ventures led to the establishment of lasting COOperative marketing associations circumventing wholesale brokers. 180 In the first few years of dairy farming the pro- ducing family consumed virtually all of their products. Farming was oriented toward minimization of monetary expen- ditures for food. As pastures gradually expanded and herds increased to four and five cows, surplus cream was often shipped to the Bridgemen Russell Dairy in Hancock, and several years later to the Lake Superior Dairy in Houghton. Local merchants acted as small scale wholesale brokers of butter and eggs between farm women and mining town grocery stores. Women could never transport their small quantities of butter all the way to a nearby town, so they exchanged it for "credit." When the local merchant accumulated enough butter to make a wholesale shipment, he sent it by railroad to a grocery store in town. The farmers began looking for a way to make money from their herds. They decided to organize a creamery to make their own butter on a large scale and ship it to the nearby mining towns themselves. By accumulating all of the community's cream and churning it into butter, larger volume wholesale transactions were feasible. Once again the local merchant could be circumvented. Organizational meetings were held and members decided to sell stock for $10 a share. They hired four men to pasteurize and churn the cream, and a professional butter maker from Minnesota, a German. Dairies in Houghton and Hancock gave the COOperative creamery more competition than it could withstand. At times it was a more attractive option for local farmers to 181 sell their five gallon cans of cream to outside dairies because they could get a little more money. The train often went right next to some farmers' land and spurs (stopping points) were closer than the creamery in the village area of Finn River. Some farmers could save half a work day by shipping the cream out to dairies in nearby towns. The little creamery did not have enough sales volume to allow them to pay the farmers more. It became very evident that economic COOperation worked only when it appeared to be the most profitable alternative. When the local creamery went bankrupt in 1921, the outside competitors lowered their prices for cream, and the local farmers suffered. Several local men thought a local creamery could make money if an effective butter storage system regulated the supply of their butter to offset seasonal fluctuations. During the summer months while herds fed on the highly nutritious green grass, butterfat content in the milk was increased. Almost twice as much butter was made from summer milk than winter milk from the less nutritious hay. Four local men and the butter maker talked over their problems and came to a solution: the butter maker knew some peOple in Minnesota who would store frozen butter during the summer months of over-supply and flooded markets. They began ship- ping butter in large vats to Minnesota where it was frozen, stored, and then shipped back in the winter for reprocessing. Persons storing the butter kept a certain portion and sold 182 it in Minnesota. This arrangement allowed the local creamery to make higher profits. For a few years business went well for the privately owned creamery, until several local farmers felt that some- thing productive should be done with the vast quantities of milk wasted as a by-product of the butter-making operation. Members on the Board of Directors of the Farmers' Coopera- tive Trading Company decided to start a cheese factory. In 1931-32 they built the factory and hired a German cheese- maker. The cooperative cheese factory gained wide support from the farmers because it was a cooperative and because they provided higher monetary return since now for the first time farmers could sell their milk rather than just the cream. So Finn River farmers sold their milk to the cheese factory, which resold the whey to the private creamery after making cheese. Within two years many more of the farmers shifted their business to the cooperative cheese factory, and the private creamery was in trouble. Then the cheese- maker talked the Board of Directors into making their own butter rather than sell cream to the private creamery. In a last attempt to survive, the private creamery diversified into selling pasteurized bottled milk in the nearby sawmill towns. However, they could not "make a go of it" because local farmers illegally undersold them with unpasteurized raw milk. In 1934 the private creamery collapsed. (For 20 years the cooperative cheese factory did well in Finn River. Local farmers increased the size of their 183 herds because dairy agriculture was becoming a profitable business. Most had logged out their lands and the nearby forests were stripped of the virgin hardwood. Rather than travel further away to work in the lumber camps, they began to farm as a full-time Operation. In 1937 bulldozers were introduced to the area, making possible a comparatively rapid clearing of land for pasturage. Then herd sizes really increased. For $15 an acre a farmer could hire a local land clearing enterpreneur to increase pasture area. Working in the cheese factory was very uncomfortable in the summer, when the big vats were kept at 180 degrees for effective pasteurization. Water was always boiling for the sterilization of utensils and equipment, and nearby open drainage stank. When it was 80 degrees outside it was unbearable inside the Finn River Cooperative Cheese Factory. Nine men were paid one dollar a day for a 10 hour shift. They wanted $2 a day, a 100% increase. At this time, during the Great Depression, times were hard for the COOp. Many farmers could not pay their bills, and the Coop was still extending them credit. The new manager was afraid that if he submitted to the demands of the cheese factory workers, other Coop employees would likewise demand wage increases. He refused. The cheese factory employees then organized a union and threatened to strike. The manager told them to return to their jobs or he would close 184 the cheese factory. Unheeding, the workers struck. The following day the Coop cheese factory closed down, never to reopen. It was not only the labor costs which terminated local cheese and butter production, but the growing competi- tion from other cheese producers. The Copper Country Dairy in Dollar Bay, and cheese producers in Iron River, Ironwood, Bruce Crossing, and Marquette made big inroads on the declining mining town markets. Federal and state inspectors were giving the cheese factory a hard time, and it seemed to the Finn River farmers they intentionally tried to find fault with the operation. It was rumored that one of the state milk inspectors owned a substantial amount of stock in a Marquette cheese pro- ducing outfit and he was trying deliberately to put the Finn 4 River Cooperative cheese factory out of business. Every time he inspected, more faults were discovered. The Board of Directors of the Coop were being forced to either close operations or reinvest substantial sums into new stainless steel equipment required by governmental sanitary specifica- tions. Profit maximizing distribution strategies were not limited to the sphere of dairy agriculture, but also spread into the spheres of cabbage and potato production. In the Cabbage Road area of Finn River cabbage grows very quickly into blue ribbon sizes. "They grow 'em like basketballs in that swamp soil," grinned a second generation son of an 185 early cabbage farmer. During the course of the year com- posted materials On the forest ground accumulates, and as snow melts, it gradually washes into the creeks and ulti- mately into the river which floods Cabbage Road fields every spring. For centuries this process has enriched Cabbage Road soil. In the c0pper mining towns, first generation Hun- garian, Austrian, German, Yugoslavian and Croatian miners ate saurkraut as a basic part of their diet. In the fall miners' wives made saurkraut in 25 gallon barrels, and canned it for the coming year. Some families ordered over a ton of cabbage just for their own needs. Beyond clearing enough land to provide for a sub- sistence dairy herd, Cabbage Road farmers began clearing land faster than the other farmers in Finn River because they were the only ones in a position to make money by selling cabbage. Cabbages grew elsewhere in Finn River, but in no other neighborhoods were they as sweet and huge as the Cabbage Road area. Saurkraut makers preferred Cabbage Road cabbages for the sweeter taste, and because there was less waste and more usable cabbage to a Cabbage Road head. In 1906 and 1907 cabbage growing gained a foothold in Cabbage Road. It was not long before the consumers in the towns began asking their grocers for Cabbage Road cab- bage. Some would even drive the 30 miles to Cabbage Road in the summer to order early from the coming fall harvest. 186 In the very early years the price of cabbage was $10 a ton, and in a few years climbed to an average of $12. Prices reached their peak from 1917 to 1925 when a Cabbage Road farmer might earn $15 a ton for a railroad car load. Cabbage Road soil produced an average of 11 tons of cabbage to the acre, giving the Cabbage Road farmers a very good living compared to the other neighborhoods in Finn River. It became apparent to some of the farmers that they were hurting themselves economically through pricing compe- tition. As an Old cabbage farmer told me, Well, I'll tell you what it was like back then. There were some years then the farmers were so afraid that they would have too much cabbage that they would flood the market. They would panic and every indi- vidual farmer would run to the stores and wholesalers who would play one farmer off against another. The wholesalers were the worst ones because they picked up over 60% of the crop. But the grocery store owners had a pretty good pinch on the grower. Once he hauled the stuff into town he had to dump it somewhere. Usually neighbors would see each other peddling cabbage in town and try to get the jump on the other. It started getting pretty bad and every- one was taking a cut in profits so my dad, my uncle, and a couple others organized an association of cabbage producers. One man who knew many of the wholesalers and had a knack for dealing with them was chosen to negotiate on behalf of the association. Every now and then a farmer broke from the association to sell at a profit, and there were sometimes some "hard feelings" between the neighbors in Cabbage Road. But over the years the cabbage association was somewhat successful and it lasted until 1939. In the late 19305 Green Bay and Seymour, Wisconsin canneries, began to cut into the mining town markets. 187 During the Great Depression years the first generation cab- bage lovers began to die off, and the second generation never continued their traditional food consumption pattern. The second generation ate cabbage occasionally, but in far smaller quantities, and the small canned product from Wis- consin met their needs. By 1940 almost no farmer in Cabbage Road was producing cabbage for a monetary market. It remained that way for 19 years until one Cabbage Road farmer began truck farming to local grocery stores. Figure 21 illustrates the cabbage COOperative mar- keting association. Approximately 10 farmers grew commer- cial cabbage and sold it to any one of three wholesalers. Grocery stores sold cabbage to the immigrant miners. Within the sphere of the cabbage economy, few transactions occurred between individual growers. Planting, harvesting and transportation were individually performed functions. The only bond holding together the association was the agreement to not compete with one another and to hold out for the association's sales negotiations with wholesalers and store owners. The association suffered at times because of the narrow exchange ties between members and the presence of many Opportunities for individual profiting. Wholesalers and grocers tried to bust the organization by tempting individual members into selling at high profits and spreading the word of his sale to the other growers. At Cabbage Farmers CFl CFZ CF3 CF4 CF5 CFO CF? CF8 afieqqeg I ’ ' CF9 7 Association 0 Negotiator o ‘3 3 m m m‘ m G (Di 0‘ (D w W ! (D 0 Whole- Whole— Whole- 3 saler ‘ saler saler - d 1 : 2 SD m (D afisqqeo I Grocery stores in nearby towns —.Cash flow :Cabbage flow III II] I] III Cl III III El High volume comsumption by miner's families in nearby towns Figure 21. Adaptive Cabbage Distribution Network, 1910-1939. 189 times wholesalers spread false rumors of individual members selling outside of the association for handsome profits. Members were continually presented with individual sale opportunities, by a miner and his family traveling out to the farm in search of saurkraut cabbage; grocers who knew them personally and may have done business with him in the recent past; and wholesalers who came into Cabbage Road bearing gifts of fruit and bottles of whiskey. In such a neighborhood every traveler going down the road was seen by virtually everyone who lived there. And if a traveler hap- pened to be carrying a load of cabbage back to his home in a mining town, the news spread like a March forest fire. Everyone knew the wholesalers and recognized them immediately as they passed by on their way to the neighbor's farm. With the many Opportunities for sales by individual members and the sheer impossibility of keeping it quiet, the cabbage marketing association was hampered frequently by squabbles between the members. As the news of one illegal sale spread through the neighborhood, the next time a buyer came by, a farmer thought to himself that if his neighbor sold independently, why shouldn't he? Even though the cab- bage marketing association endured and helped the members, eventually it was beset by frequent collapses as the percep- tions of inequity prompted individual members to profit on individual transactions. Intra-community pooling for coordinated collective sales also occurred in the local potato industry. Growers 190 collectively harvested, pooled their crops, and coordinated the storage, sale, and transportation of their potatoes. In most neighborhoods in Finn River, farmers grew potatoes commercially from 1906 until 1936. Potatoes are far less perishable than cabbage and are capable of being stored, under prOper conditions, for seven months. In order to avoid flooding the market in the fall and losing the winter potato market to the larger scale growers in Idaho and Maine, Finn River growers once again got together. They formed a cooperative marketing associa- tion, raised money by selling shares, and built large potato warehouses next to the Mineral Range Railroad tracks. In the early 19205 this one was built next to the tracks run- ning between Cabbage Road and Hemlock Siding, and during the depression of the thirties another was built right in the central village area of Finn River. The latter one was partially financed through Roosevelt's W.P.A. funds and partially from the individual members in the association. A member rented several bins in the heated warehouse to store his crOp during the winter and spring. To facili- tate loading the railroad cars, a spur ran right next to the warehouse. Rental monies were used to cover the construction costs and the potato grading machine. Potato growers collectively made the firewood to heat the warehouse, and to cut labor costs took turns working in the warehouse. Two men were needed to watch the furnace, grade and sack potatoes, and load them onto the railroad cars. They also 191 ran a constant quality control check to eliminate defective spuds. Potato growers also organized their own potato har- vesting company similar to the threshing companies discussed earlier. Members chipped in and jointly purchased a new potato digging machine. The machine and a crew traveled up and down the road as did the thresher and firewood sawing crews. The roving potato digging crew, however, was not a community-sweeping event because not everyone grew potatoes. It was confined mainly to the Hemlock Siding and Mill Road areas where the potato growers were concentrated. An orientation toward the common good transcended individual growers' perceptions of inequity. Many of the potato growers were the socialists who earlier organized the Farmers' Cooperative Trading Company, and they knew very well the economic advantages of pooling their resources. The son of such a grower said to me, We all got a good deal out of it. Usually there were kids working alongside the men. We walked behind the potato digger and picked up potatoes off the surface of the ground and bagged them. It was fun going down the road and having dinner with the other farmers. It didn't make any difference if you had a half acre of potatoes or an acre and a half. Nobody complained about it. It just didn't make any difference to us because it was all the same. Almost every week and at least every other week a railroad car load of potatoes left Finn River on its way to the western Upper Peninsula towns where the Finn River growers soon became a major and regular supplier. As a 192 result of very poor coordination with wholesale brokers, every time they tried selling in a large urban market far away, they lost money. Distance was certainly a factor, and the irregular shipments often arrived when the Chicago, Mil- waukee, and Detroit markets were already flooded. Several times they did not even make enough to pay for their freight costs. It was in these urban markets that the Finn River growers came into direct competition with the larger volume, better organized growers from Idaho, Maine and Minnesota who had well established communication lines with wholesalers in the cities. Potato farming began when the railroad entered Finn River in 1900 and ended abruptly when the Mineral Range picked up their tracks in 1936. After that there were simply no economically feasible means of transportation available to the farmers. Many were so hard pressed after the Great Depression that they left Finn River, seeking work in the automobile factories in Detroit. The cooperative marketing association collapsed as their basic means of transportation vanished, and the potato warehouses have not since seen another potato. Today not one single Finn River farmer grows potatoes for the market. Figure 22 illustrates the distribution network for the potato production sphere of the local economy between 1906 and 1936. This network was far more effective in maximizing monetary returns than was the one for the cabbage growers. Many more exchange ties connected the potato 193 — ——-)Labor flow =Potato flow Potato Farmers k__’ Group "visiting" . Grading potatoes 4‘ Bagging potatoes Loading R.R. cars Communal harvesting Pooled cabbaga crop Financial investment Warehouse maintenance Warehouse construction Communal firewood making Joint purchased potato digger : V Cooperative Marketing Association w (Other potato a farmers) 3 —)Cash flow 0 (D U) - Negotiator seoiaiod seoieiod L 1 < seoi'eiod ‘ Whole— Whole- Whole- saler saler saler 1 2 w w w Outside a g 3 Competition m m m 7 cf c+ d‘ o o o (D (D (D U) U) U) DDDDDDDDDL—JUE] UDDDUUDUUDD Western Upper Peninsula Grocery Stores I seoieiod Figure 22. Adaptive Potato Distribution Network, 1906-1936. 1911 growers. In addition to the pivotal exchange of potatoes in return for money, there was a sharing of monetary invest- ment through the initial purchasing of stock; joint purchasing of a potato digger by some members; and the com- munal harvesting ritual in some neighborhoods. Members also took turns working with one another in building the ware— house, maintaining it properly, making the firewood for heating, grading, bagging, and loading potatoes onto railroad cars. During the winter men visited in the warehouse. Because of the wider scope of their organization, potato growers assembled together more often than the cabbage growers. The external market structure of the potato industry was more conducive to cooperative marketing because fewer sale Opportunities confronted the individual farmers. The mining town market was already saturated by growers closer to them. Only one farmer peddled his potatoes in nearby sawmill towns. The major consumers were too far away for individual farmers to reach through their own efforts, or for the consumers to reach by driving to the Finn River farmers. Another important feature of the market structure differentiating potato and cabbage farming was the degree of competition. The sale of potatoes was more competitive than the sale of any other agricultural product. Since the potato is more durable than either cabbage, eggs or dairy products, it can be shipped greater distances. Hence, the 195 outside competition can reach markets very far away from the actual growing site. High competition made marketing cooperation very essential in the potato industry, but this was not so for the cabbage growers. APPENDIX B THE UPPER PENINSULA REGIONAL SETTING THE UPPER PENINSULA REGIONAL SETTING Michigan's Upper Peninsula is separated from the rest of the state by Lake Michigan, a six mile voyage at its narrowest point. It is geographically a peninsular extension of Wisconsin, and became commercially and cultur- ally linked to Wisconsin during the first 115 years of statehood, before it was connected to the Lower Peninsula by the Mackinac Bridge. Before Michigan was admitted to the Union in 1837, the U.P. was actually a part of Wisconsin Territory. In Washington, D.C., Ohio senators refused Michigan admission to the Union unless it ceded the "Toledo Strip" to Ohio. Michiganders balked and came close to fighting a war with Ohio. As the national guard from each state were mobilized and facing each other near the Toledo area, influential Ohio politicians offered an alternative. The Ohio senators proposed giving the peninsular portion of Wisconsin, not yet a state, in return for the Toledo area. Michigan was not satisfied with her bargain land, but begrudgingly accepted, in order to gain acceptance into the Union. What emerged from this deal was the most peculiarly shaped state in the nation. A look at the map gives one the immediate impression that the "U.P." should never have been part of Michigan. 196 197 Since the Upper Peninsula had been virtually isolated from the Lower Peninsula until the Mackinac Bridge was constructed in 1957, it is culturally oriented more toward Wisconsin than the downstate region of Michigan. U.P. residents root for the Green Bay Packers more than the Detroit Lions, and they travel to Wisconsin on vacations and week-end shopping trips. Commercial linkages between the U.P. and Wisconsin are stronger than between the U.P. and the Lower Peninsula. Due to the easier transportational access, most of the chain stores and gasoline stations have administrative headquarters in Wisconsin. With the exception of their own station in Marquette, when U.P. people watch television, their stations are broadcasted from Wisconsin. Since 1957 many Lower Peninsulans have vacationed in the U.P. and have purchased cottages there. Every year an increasing number of downstate urbanites cross the Mackinac Bridge for the fall deer hunting seasons and summer months. The tourist industry has mushroomed since its opening. But the increasing flood of outsiders seems to make U.P. residents more aware of their separate identity. Resentment toward Lower Peninsulans seems to be growing, and every now and then one hears a grass roots suggestion of separate statehood for the Upper Peninsula. Over a century of geographical isolation from the Lower Peninsula's industrial centers gave the U.P. a cultural uniqueness. Travelers sense by the rugged wilderness, the peculiar accents, the slow-paced life style and casual 198 down-to-earth friendliness, that the U.P. has a quality of life substantially different from the Lower Peninsula. So striking is the contrast that several writers have men— tioned a sense of being in a different country after cross- ing the Mackinac Bridge. To the Lower Peninsula urbanite a distinguishing feature of a U.P. person is the unmistakable accent and use of odd-sounding phrases. Most of the so-called peculiar U.P. accent is the result of speaking English words with a Finnish and occasionally Swedish pronunciation. Lower Peninsulans stereotype the Upper Peninsulan as dumb, backward, and unfashionable. Yet downstate urbanites are touched by what they consider to be naive trust Upper Peninsulans have for other people and their friendliness and willingness to help a stranger in trouble. U.P. peOple resent Lower Peninsula bureaucrats and tourists for conveying feelings of status superiority. This resentment is growing, and some U.P. people are adopting negative labels for Lower Peninsula urbanites such as "berrypickers,"'rockpickers," and "tourists," terms con- veying distain for the ignorant, smart-aleck, snobbish outsiders. Historically the entire U.P. has been ravaged by extractive industries. Copper, iron ore and both.pine and hardwood forests have been removed from the U.P. in enormous quantities to satisfy the needs of large urban industrial centers. Many tons of Lake Trout were shipped to Chicago 199 until the State of Michigan Department of Natural Resources banned commercial Lake Trout fishing in response to outraged local sportsmen. Thousands of deer have been killed by hunters from other states and from the Lower Peninsula. Upper Peninsula sportsmen are especially outraged over what they regard as a plundering of their deer herds by outsiders. Now the mineral resources are approaching depletion. The economy is stifled, and since the 1930's the region has lost human resources through.the outmigration of its youth. In 1840 Douglas Houghton was appointed state geologist and directed to survey and explore the north» western region of the Upper Peninsula for valuable metals. He discovered deposits of copper and iron. In 1843 the Federal Government, stimulated by the prospect of tapping these resources, purchased from the Chippewas over 25,000 acres of their ancestral lands. Chippewa elders knew nothing of the cash economic value of the metal, and immediately large tracts of land were quickly claimed as companies began staking out prospective mines. The Copper Country, as the two counties in the north- western tip were soon called, was the scene of America's first boom mining towns. From 1807 until 1915 the Copper Country experienced growth in economic leaps and bounds. In 1870 the C0pper Country cornered 87% of the nation's copper market, and it soon became the most populous region in the state. Some prominent citizens even pressed to have the capital established there (Murdock, 1943). 200 But by 1900 western copper mines in Arizona and Montana were beginning to encroach upon the market. In that year only 26% of the nation's production came from the Copper Country, as companies were forced to go deeper into the earth to find copper. After the 1913 Copper Country Strike, COpper production in the U.P. suffered a steady decline. By 1920 its share of the market slipped to 18%, and by 1925 it fell to 11%. As a consequence of the Great Depression in 1935 it collapsed to less than 4% (Meeks, 1964: 143). During the early stages of World War II the Copper Country experienced a slight revival, but by 1940 production again slid downward, constituting a mere 3.5% of national production during the 1950 recession. Since then production has fluctuated up and down with a slight increase due to the 1955 Opening of the White Pine Mining Company. Since 1968 there has been no copper production in Houghton and Keweenaw counties. Today the only active copper mining site is in White Pine, in Ontonagon County. In 1972 the White Pine mine produced 131,937,378 pounds of copper valued at $84,579,000.5 To the reader it may sound like a considerable volume of ore, but it has only managed to match the level produced in 1890 when the Finnish emigrants were contemplating their journey to the new land. The opening of the 800 Canal in 1855 and the Civil War stimulated the expansion of the U.P.‘s iron mining industry. In 1860 U.P. iron production was 150,000 tons of 201 ore and 5,000 tons of pig iron, and by 1864 it swelled to 248,000 of ore and 12,950 tons of pig iron (Mason, 1961). There are three iron ranges in the Upper Peninsula. Between 1845 and 1850 iron mining began in what is now Marquette and Dickinson Counties in Negaunee and Ishpeming. This was the mining site supplying the needs of the Union Army. The Menominee Range Opened in 1877 providing economic growth in the area of Iron Mountain, Crystal Falls, and Iron River. The third major iron range in the area opened in 1884 in the area of Ironwood, Wakefield, and Bessemer. During the latter part of the nineteenth century the U.P. was the nation'a leading producer of iron ore. By the early 1960's its contribution to the national iron ore production declined to 20%.6 In 1967 Peterson Mine, the last company in the Gogebic Range, closed its operations. In Marquette and Dickinson Counties there are currently five active iron sites operated by the Tilden Mining Company, by far the largest employer in the area. Only one mine is still active in the Menominee Range. Iron ore production in the Upper Peninsula has been on the decline since 1967 when 14,130,000 tons of iron ore were mined. In 1973 the tonnage declined to 12,000,000, having a value of $176,449,000. The iron mining industry is clearly on the downhill slump. In 1957 there were 6,311 persons listed on iron mining company payrolls, and by 1972 the number declined to only 2,226 persons.7 202 Even though the combined value of the U.P.‘s copper and iron production in 1973 was about $261 million, the reader must bear in mind that production levels of extrac- tive industries are not accurate indicators of general economic growth. Ore is extracted and transported to steel mills in Minnesota; Gary, Indiana; and Detroit, where it is processed. Urban populations benefit from the valueradded operations of separating the ore, smelting, making steel and the other products fashioned from steel. Additional added value is not recycled back into the Upper Peninsula economy because finished product transportation costs to geographi- cally distant markets would be prohibitive. The U.P. remains a stagnant economy with its natural treasures con— stantly being reduced. Throughout the Upper Peninsula heavy logging activity paralleled the mining boom. From 1850 to 1900 lumberjacks cut down virgin stands of White Pine to build downstate urban centers. Between 1900 and the late 1930's the virgin hardwood forests were exploited. During those years the Upper Peninsula was one of the leading lumber producers in the nation. Although the virgin forests were depleted, second and third growth forests have returned. Today 89% of the Upper Peninsula can be classified as forested. However the current crOp of second and third growth timber cannot approach the quality of the nineteenth and early twentieth century virgin crOp. Adapting to this fundamental change 203 in the quality of timber resources, the U.P. forest industry has generally converted from timber and lumber production to the production of fabricated board, paper and pulpwood. Forest products industries are the largest employers in the region. Agriculture in the U.P. has historically been tied to the prosperity of mining towns (Meeks, 1964: 78). The U.P. is so far removed from major population centers that its farmers have depended primarily upon nearby mining town markets. Long range decline in mining activity and its collapse in the early 1930's have undermined the farmers' markets. Most of the ex—miners have migrated to Detroit and are now working in automobile factories. When farming proliferated in the U.P. it was initially a subsistance activity. In spite of short growing seasons, infertile acidic soils with low moisture-holding capacity, and abundant areas of swamps and rocky terrain, dairy farming has somehow persisted. Today less than 6% of all land is harvested cropland.8 Now there are far fewer active farmers (about 1300), but U.P. milk production levels have remained constant as the size and quality of average dairy herds have increased. The doubling of the average Upper Peninsula dairy farmer's net income from $6,805 in 1966 to $13,749 in 1972 reflects this trend. The price farmers have received for milk has doubled during those same years.9 204 Today the typical second generation U.P. farmer is approximately fifty years old. One out of five works off the farm and farms only on a part—time basis. He rarely has more than an eighth grade, one-room schoolhouse education, and is unaware of the latest tax loopholes, or recent farm- ing technological innovations. His children are employed in downstate factories, and are generally unwilling to take over the farm after he retires. He is milking less than 25 cows, has no intentions of expanding his herd, and will sell his herd as soon as he is 65 and can collect social security. He is hanging on. A minority of dairy farmers are of the third genera“ tion, have high school educations, supplemented perhaps by one or two years of specialized training in dairy farm management. His herd consists of 50 or more cows, and he wants to increase its size. He visits his retiring neighbor and talks about buying his farm. He is aware of the latest tax loopholes, keeps up with the latest farm technology, and is optimistic about the future of the dairy industry. He does not hesitate to borrow huge loans to expand his opera- tions. To the third generation farmer dairy farming is regarded as a good business in contrast to the second genera- tion farmer for whom it is a way of life. In spite of the exploitive after-effects of large scale extractive industries, some people are committed to "make a go of it" in the U.P. In 1972 there were 318,700 persons living in the Upper Peninsula. Out—migration 205 continues because the declining extractive industries are still stifling diversified economic development so that jobs are scarce. In the decade between 1950 and 1960, 31,889 persons left the U.P., and between 1960 and 1970, 26,058 persons left the region.10 Most of the migrants are high school graduates seeking employment. Out migration is slowing down as young people reassess the value of living in a relatively pollution-free, crime—free environment. The general deterioration of the central cities, especially Detroit, have made the prospect of urban life unattractive to an increasing number of U.P. people. Young males are now passing up the higher wages in the city and are beginning to take lower paying jobs in small non-unionized shops near their own communities. As compared to urban areas, the cash incomes in the U.P. are low. the 1969 median income was $7647 as compared 11 In U.P. towns 12.3% of to $11,351 for the Detroit area. the families have incomes below the U.S. Census poverty level. In the farming areas 13% are in poverty. Severe winters shut down construction jobs, and spring thaws halt the logging activity, giving the U.P. high rates of seasonal unemployment. The 1970 nonworker to worker ratio was 1.94 as compared to 1.48 in the Detroit area.12 Life is particularly difficult for the many senior citizens in the area. Because many younger peOple have been moving out of the U.P. since the 1930's, the region is left with a relatively high prOportion of elderly 206 persons as compared to urban areas. In 1970 11.2% of the people were 65 years or older compared with 7.7% in the Detroit area.13 The availability of health care services for the elderly is becoming a major social problem in the Upper Peninsula. Local facilities are nowhere near the capacity to accomodate such an increasing number of older people. The problem gets worse every year as an increasing number of former residents plan to retire in the Upper Peninsula they left three or four decades ago. Somehow the monetary picture is misleading. The poverty is not visible. U.P. residents have adapted their lifestyles toward nonmaterial pursuits, and I would judge them to be happier than many prosperous urbanites. Outdoor sports, clean air and water and friendly, helpful neighbors who are actually concerned about one another make life easier. It is my impression that many U.P. people scoff at the prospect of moving to the city. Their intense eco-patriotism reconciles a lower cash income. A large portion of the U.P. eco-patriots are Finnish. When you ask a Lower Peninsula person to define an Upper Peninsula resident, the most frequent characteristic men— tioned is the Finnish ethnicity. Figure 23 illustrates the proportion of Finns in the Upper Peninsula counties. Notice the heavy concentration of Finns in the four northern— most counties. Since virtually all Finn River residents are Finns, they share a common ethnic identity with many persons 207 _ .me .e .303 $9320 mo 33993:: .mammfi .<.2 cmnmflpsmsa ..smmgoas some: 5 ecosoappmm £35.55 .2340: 5502 .ooasomi. .8358 hp don-<- mmxmg Page home: on» a.“ soapm :mfimaom snag-SE ..mm 095mg . « «IIIIJ . .- _ 1...“, a a Li-.. ..... ._ .3. .- I-x-tu.iau..x..L..-.i " n“. _ . v IIIII L. _ . IJ r.) \k/ za 3 :12“: 3623; -m- .....i... .. ..... ...--.. u u A ..--i ...». . . . r lllll L _ . . r f u l _ _ . _ . . . _ _ _ .u _ 11...... _ wk: . . w . . ..-- . . _ . -Li 2. zoom; _ .r---. .---«movu;,z_ 333: Q \ 1 n u u . m u xx " “ ..---...-- Wk ‘9 _ _ _ \1 . _ . . . . I \ or. \ ... . . \\\\1 ----pl... " _ \.\ a. .... x o 0 con:— v o. o _ . _ . . \.. x \. 22:82 “ =3» R w...” -36 WWaouaoH s: 3:) knaves—‘3 V _ . . "V. . will: .. , \ . . i v . o .. So 9 o o \ .3: \\ \\ \ J .u Rwy ....m ovum“. 323.. "Jun? .W .03 ......«uwssoumuo ‘ouawunwuflmumuwmqun . K§ .§R& \ U... \ 6 cu. 0.00.?) . ... 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This common ethnic bond extends throughout the COpper Country and the northern part of the Upper Peninsula. Second generation Finns speak their native language with age peers. Every Sunday morning WLUCaTV in Marquette broadcasts a two-hour Finnish cultural celebration of the only local station. Suomi Kutso (Finland Calling) is broadcasted to an estimated 26,000 to 30,000 persons. It is the only Finnish language broadcast on television out- side Of Finland. As Finn River residents drive around the COpper Country and the U.P. they feel comfortable with.the surround- ings. Noticing Finnish names on the mailboxes and hearing strangers speaking their language, they feel close to home. This is especially so in the COpper Country. The two northernmost counties, Houghton and Keweenaw, form a folk territorial entity warmly referred to as the "Copper Country." Finn River peOple use the term when speak- ing of the Keweenaw Peninsula northeast of the Portage Canal. Hence they do not think of themselves as being an integral part of it. Yet most Finn River people see themselves as belonging to the Copper Country and its history. This is quite understandable since most of the early Finn River pioneers were ex-miners. In many ways Finn River is a part of the Copper Country cultural sphere. The Daily Minipg Gazette published in Houghton since 1865 and distributing 12,000 copies a day 209 is an undeniable Copper Country institution. Folks from Finn River and throughout Baraga County regularly read the paper. "Wimple" (WMPL), the local radio station in Hancock, labels itself "The Spirit of the Copper Country." Its daily broadcasting range extends beyond the four northern— most counties and is tuned in regularly in Finn River. The Finn River Cooperative Store advertises regularly through the station. Programming is tailored to local interests, community events, meetings, local area athletic contests, open air discussion of local issues and gossip. These two forms of public communication, and two radio stations of lesser importance, define common issues and daily concerns of Copper Country peOple and Finn River people alike. Finn River residents have relatives living in the Copper Country and stop to visit them while shopping in town. So Finn River is not a self-contained community amidst alien surroundings. Ethnic bonding, common local media, and a common history integrate Finn River into the immediately surrounding area. The entire Copper Country is spotted with small Finnish farming communities like Finn River and all are commercially oriented to nearby small towns like Mass, Lake Linden, Laurium, Calumet, Houghton, Hancock, Baraga and L'Anse. Now that we have discussed the nature of the regional context surrounding the community of Finn River, we will turn to the internal ecological characteristics of the community. APPENDIX C FINN RIVER'S MICRO‘ECOLOGICAL SETTING FINN RIVER'S MICRO-ECOLOGICAL SETTING Finn River's terrain is spotted with clearings that pioneer farmers carved out of a vast forest. In the center of these clearings is a village area, where Finn River residents conduct their economic transactions and pause to exchange local gossip. Figure 24 is an aerial View of the central village and the proximate area. This frame looks eastward and captures virtually all of the village area. On the left, which would be the north edge of the village,are five new ranch style homes which are the first in the community with aluminum siding. Four of these were built in the past three years. The two homes east of the road, sitting slightly back from the street and surrounded by a street, represents a new development: The very first attempt at consciously developing Finn River. A Finn River earth-moving contractor had his brotherrin-law build them, one for his newly married son and the other for his wife's ailing uncle. Until these homes were built, the village area seemed to expand along the main road. In the future 210 Figure 24. Finn River and the Immediately Surrounding Area. Figure 25. Aerial View of Finn River Countryside. 212 one can expect the village expansion pattern to shift direc- tion more to the east and west (up and down in the photo- graph), since this particular contractor has a "development" orientation and a vision of a growing Finn River. In this photo an equal distribution of cleared and forested land appears, but the viewer must remember that the frame focuses selectively on just the central area. Baraga County, which includes the community of Finn River, is still over 90% forested. In the lower part of Figure 24 and slightly toward the right is an old abandoned farm. Observe carefully and you will see the old barn in the midst of an abandoned field now being overgrown with brush. If you study the photo you can see these are not large trees filling in the clearing, but scrub brush. It seems peculiar that land so recently reclaimed, and with such strenuously hard labor, is now allowed to lie idle and grow into brush.wasteland. Notice the river flowing through.the community of Finn River. Down this river floated the pine and hemlock. of Finn River's golden pine era. In spring and after heavy rains it is ferocious, and often floods just beyond the upper left corner of the photo. In Figure 25 the viewer can get a feel for the Spatial composition of the landscape beyond the village area. Notice how fields are distinctly bounded by a wall of forest. A Finn River farm has a special peace and tranquility resulting from the privacy of the trees: Recall 213 the escapist themes in the back to the land movement, intoxicating the disenchanted immigrants after the mining town experiences. I talked with four male Finn River residents who traveled across the nation separately and at different times. Two lived in Arizona, one in Texas and one in Montana; and not one liked the desert or prairie environs. Without elicitation on my part, during the course of mutual con- versation all said one thing they missed and were grateful to see upon returning was the green "bush." (Bush.is the local woodsman's term meaning forest.) All complained about feeling uncomfortable in those wide open areas without a treeline blocking out the horizon. One young man said, "Nope. They'll never get me to leave again. Not for the. big bucks (high wages) or nothing. I don't even like it in the Lower Peninsula. It's too wide open. I guess once you're a bush-rat, you're always a bush-rat." The next photo, Figure 26 is an aerial view of the central village, looking toward the northwest. The main road runs true north and south. To give the reader a sense of the physical layout of Finn River's village area I shall refer specifically to this photograph while describing it. The description will move from left (south) to right (north) first above the roadline (west) and then below it (east). West of the road on the left—hand side (south) of the first building is the Finn River Post Office. The postmaster is the informal community leader. The Post Office is a regular .umosauuoz mawxooq ..mmum mmmHHflw m_Hw>Hm scam Mo 3m..n> Hafiuofl .mN musmfim 215 visiting place and the site for the initiation of volun— teristic community action. Immediately to the right, back 20 yards from the road is the old Standard Oil building, now a garage for the Finn River Coop trucks. Now it is painted a brilliant red with white trim. The big white building immediately to its right is the original Farmers Trading Company Store founded in 1917; it is now used for storing appliances and other large merchandise by the Coop which moved directly across the street. To the right of the old Farmer's Coop is the original Finn River Creamery which until last year was used as the Finn River Fire Hall, and is now used by the Finn River Coop for storing merchandise. To the right of the old creamery is a house. The big white house to the right was the first residence of this researcher. It was built on the site of Finn River's first general store in 1917. For many years this building housed both a store and the Finn River Post Office. It was one of the earlier community visiting centers. Now it is the pri— vate home of a man who bought it last year from his aging parents. The parents have moved into a little retirement cottage you see in the back of the lot. It is a custom for the parents to turn over their house to a son and move to a little house in the back where they are both far enough. out of the way to allow for a certain degree of non- interference in their son's family and to give them a measure of privacy. Yet they are close enough for their 216 son and his wife to help them as they are increasingly unable to help themselves. To the right of the home, peeking out from behind a wall of evergreens is Urho's Mobile Station, an important community hangvout for older men. Further to the right in one lot are two white buildings. Again here a couple lived in the larger white house closer to the road, while their aging parents lived in the little retirement cottage in the back of the lot. Two doors down across an empty lot and to the right is a lengthy ranch-style house. It is the parsonage, built two years ago to meet the expected living standards of a suburban middle class pastor assigned to administer the Finn River and two neighboring community parishes. The central location allows the community to keep their pastor under constant social surveillance. Next to the parsonage and to the right is the post~ master's home, a small house he built in order to care for his dying mother. He often cuts the lawn at the parsonage while doing his own. Next door is a much larger ranchrstyle house built last summer for a retiree. It is packed‘with the latest modern conveniences: automatic washer and dryer, a self-defrosting refrigerator, heated garage, and even a lighted doorbell--the only doorbell in Finn River. To the right and behind this new home is the Finn River Parish Center, the pastor's working office. It was converted last summer because the pastor did not like his office in his home. 217 To the right is a small retirement home lived in by an elderly couple from Detroit. She has a brother and sister living in Finn River, and she wanted to be near them in her old age. They spend a great portion of their day sitting on a wooden swing, enjoying the lack of commotion on the main street. To them the inactivity is not boring, but very tranquil. Returning now to the left side of the photo (southern edge of the village) back of the main street behind a clump of trees is the old Finn River Cheese Factory. To its right further back from the road one can see the roof of a rather long building, which was the old potato ware— house. Back on the main street, the first structure on the lower left is the service station managed by the Finn River Cooperative Store. It is a hang-out for young males. The three large tanks behind the gas station are the Coop Feed Mill grain storage bins. The big building immedi- ately to the right of the gas station is the Finn River Cooperative Store. One can discern a dividing line on the roof, reflecting the separate parts of the store. The left (south) side is the farmers' Feed Mill. One can see four large tanks containing various nutrient supplements for dairy cattle feed. Farmers can request to have their oats and corn picked up at their farm, ground at the Finn River Feed Mill, have nutritious additives mixed in, and have the final product hauled back to their barns, ready for the 218 cattle. Many farmers beyond the Finn River area pay the Feed Mill $25 for this service. Beneath the Feed Mill is the farm machinery repair shop where farmers bring the machinery they cannot repair by themselves. The labor cost is about $7.00 per hour, the parts are very expensive, and the delay is sometimes long. The other half of the Coop to the right of the Feed Mill is the General Store. It supplies a vast array of groceries, lOW*COSt fresh meats, beer and wine, hardware, sporting goods, household supplies, clothing, shoes, tobacco, candy, and cattle supplies. The main store area is one of the most lively visiting centers in the community, especially for women. The rather large white house immediately to the right of the Coop is the old railroad section house.where foremen of the Mineral Range Railroad repair crews and their families lived. Descendents of a railroad creW‘fores man have lived here for three generations. The large grayish building to the right of the old section house was once a general store. Currently it is leased by the Coop for a building supplies retail outlet. It is a hang—out for older males, and a good place to hear the masculine gossip about the community. Folks come for many miles to purchase building supplies from the Coop Building Supplies Center because the prices are very reasonable, and they are quite well stocked. 219 To the right is a small wooden house which.was the site of a recent tragedy which mobilized the entire community. Last winter the wifeemother, a 40—year old woman, died suddenly, leaving 10 children in the home. The tragedy swept the entire community like a giant wave and many women pitched in for months to help run the household. That occasion was one of Finn River's finest hours. A widow lives two doors to the right. She is well over 80 years old but still bakes her own bread and nigga and cares for herself. Her son lives two houses down the street, and does the heavier work around the house, keeps it well repaired, chops and carries her firewood, and heats her sauna. His wife does her shopping, and they both take her to the doctor and church. Between the widow and her son's homes is a vacant building the younger generation knows nothing about. Old rusted "Orange Crush" and "Peerless" chewing tobacco signs decorate its walls. It was the blacksmith shop, the meeting place of the local communists during the twenties and early thirties. It is now owned by a local retired electrician who uses it occasionally as a work shop. Next to the old blacksmith shop sits another widow's home. She is referred to as "Mother," the grand matriach, and one of the first generation settlers. She is 92 and still very sharp. She bakes her own bread and nigga, and even beats and pounds on the loom to make the traditional and ubiquitous rag rugs to earn a little extra money. Her 220 son lives across the road, and both he and his wife care for the widow. The wife helps with all the major housework and takes her shopping. The son keeps the house repaired, firewood split and the woodbox filled. Another widow lives in a little cottage next to "Mother" and the two of them have coffee and visit several times each day. Visitors come from many miles to see these old women and to hear them talk about the old days when the main street was but a logging trail. To the right of "Mother's" house is an Apostolic Lutheran Church which was remodeled into an apartment building. Last year a carpenter from Baraga purchased it and during the winter remodeled it. It has four separate living units. Last summer Finn River was buzzing with the news of a California bank robber who was staying in one of the apartments. He learned that the Michigan State Police had discovered his hideout, and he left in the middle of the night, after having paid a month's rent in advance. A Detroit retiree has a home between and just to the left of the very long building you see in the photo. He and his wife are only seasonal residents splitting the year between Florida and Finn River. He grew up in Finn River, worked his entire adult life in Detroit, saved his money, and now owns this retirement home in his home town. Every year it seems there are more Detroit retirees returning to Finn River to spend their last years in solitude. Throughout the Copper Country, post-retirement is occurring in such 221 proportions that there is a major social problem due to the overwhelming demand for services and facilities for the elderly. The very long prominent building on the far right side of the aerial photo is the Fair Building. The cars in front belong to the fair board members who are inside planning the biggest social event of the year. The building is a garage for the schoolbus, one part is the new Finn River Fire Hall, another section is a meeting room for the Fair Board, and the back is a spacious dirt floor area for judging animals during the fair, and used as a skating rink in the winter. The large building to the right of the Fair Building is the Finn River elementary school. Built in 1932, it has been one of the focal points of the community. Grades one through six are taught here. Eight years ago the school board, controlled by nearby sawmill village people, elimini- ated the seventh and eighth grades at Finn River and trans- ferred students in these grades to the village school. The past year a new, progressive superintendent was hired and he decided to have the Finn River kindergarteners bussed to the village. Alarmed parents, fearing the eventual close of their school, stormed a meeting with the superintendent, protesting the change, but his decision was final. Within a few years the Finn River school may handle both village and Finn River students in only certain grades. If local fears 222 are realized, and the school closes, a vital source of community identification will have perished. The tiny white speck two doors down is the home of a butcher. For many years he worked at the Coop. Finn River residents loved to see him behind the counter because he always gave them good cuts of meat, very well trimmed. He owned a four—wheel drive jeep with a snOWplow attachment on it. Every now and then one of his neighbors woke up in the morning, surprised to see their driveway cleared of snow. They knew immediately who had stopped to plow their drive on his way to work. Now he works long hours in a town several miles away and folks seldom see him. He "just doesn't seem to find the time to help folks and visit like he used to." As people get jobs outside Finn River, they lose touch with their neighbors. Monday through Saturday from 8:00 A.M. until 5:00 P.M. the Finn River service area is buzzing with activity. It is over nine miles away from the nearest store, so to some extent the Cooperative Store enjoys a captive market. But this general store also offers a wide range of merchan- dise at reasonable prices, so customers are attracted from beyond the Finn River community. Figure 27 shows the south end of the central area during a summer day. A Baraga County Road Commission road gang is going back to the garage for lunch. The building behind the truck is the old Coop, the original Farmers' Trading Company Store, now a warehouse. Right behind it is 224 the old Finn River Creamery. The photo was taken at 2:00 P.M. and the number of cars indicates economic trans- actions taking place. Seven more cars are parked on the right, hidden from view by the panel truck. Farm tractors are conspicuously displayed in front of the Coop Gas Station. Every now and then one can see farmers stop their trucks to study them. The size and newness of a farmer's equipment are important status cues. Above the corner of the Finn River Coop Gas Station roof is a tall tower-like elevator. The various tubes attached to the upper part are connected to grain and nutrient bins on the ground. A grain truck drives underneath the tall elevator and a man inside the Feed Mill regulates the quantity of each type of grain and nutrient to be fed into the elevator which will mix as it is loaded into the truck. Figure 28 shows the north edge of the service center in Finn River. To the right is Urho's Mobile Station now receiving a gasoline supply. To the immediate left is the Coop Building Supplies Center, and right behind it is an old gas station. It has been closed for 15 years and is now a community blight. To someone in Finn River culture this scene provides an entirely different set of cues than to a cultural alien. In a very small community (420 persons) people having lived here for a while get to know friend's and relative's cars, working hours and visiting places. 225 Figure 29 gives a view of the Finn River COOpera- tive Store in April after most of the snow has melted. The right side of the building is the farmer's Feed Mill. One can see a grain nutrient shipment has just arrived from Wisconsin. A pick—up truck is backed up to the unloading dock; evidently picking up a load of cattle feed. Farmers generally hang out in the Feed Mill and talk farming with one another. This photo was taken at 9:00 A.M. Finn River residents wake up very early, and it is not unusual to have a crowd in the store before 9:00 A.M. Here is a far better view of the grain mixing and storage elevators. As you can see in Figure 30 after dinner the central service area seems as desolate as a ghost town. The sharp contrast between the beehive atmosphere of the work.day and this forsaken image is very noticable to the outsider, but taken for granted by residents who believe one ought to stay home with the family in the evening. When bachelor lumberjacks populated the village 60 years ago there were three bars and no churches in Finn River. Now there are three churches and no bars; a clear victory for the devout. Since there are no bars or restaurants in Finn River, there is a conspicuous absence of night life in the "downtown" area. On Friday nights, when the C00p stays open until 9:00 P.M., one can see young men hanging out at the Coop Gas Station, "shootin' the bull." Finn River farm neighborhoods were critical social units from 1890-1940. In the absence of modern communications 226 Figure 29. Finn River Cooperative Store. Figure 30. Finn River Service‘Area in the Evening. 1' x 227 and transportational facilities, social interaction and help exchange was largely confined within neighborhoods. Kinship networks overlapped with neighbor relations. To the children, schoolmates were always the neigh- bor playmates. Almost every neighborhood had its own one— room school. After the farm chores, young boys built neighborhood hockey rinks and played baseball in summer. Keen rivalries developed between the different neighborhood teams. Sometimes the whole neighborhood came to root for their children. Early "cottage services" (informal worship services) were held in each neighborhood, taking turns at different households. When the Church Road Parish.was completed in 1917, once every month a different neighborhood was required to organize and present a Sunday service. When the neighbors had to organize for a common purpose they met in their little school houses. Rotating collective grain and potato harvest rituals and even the woodcutting bees depended upon the reliability of the neighborhood exchange network. As the crew moved up and down the roads, a man joined the crew to work at his neighbors' farms. Such an alternating crew had the effect of requiring each farmer to work with and for his neighbors. As the communal labor event moved further away from his neighborhood, a farmer dropped out and another took his place as the crew entered the next man's neighborhood. 228 Physical survival required each farmer to be on good terms with his neighbors. They were always needing one another to give a hand because early farm work was truly labor-intensive. Since monetary resources were scarce, they were also forced to share tools. If someone were injured or bedridden, the neighbors often made the difference between life and death. As the roads improved, and the innovations of the automobile and telephone spread through Finn River, inter- action spread beyond the neighborhood structure. Folks began to visit friends and kinsmen further away. New machinery made farm work less laborious, and neighbors simply did not need one another as much as before. At the same time (1932) the one—room school houses were closed in the name of bureaucratic efficiency and all the children were thereafter required to attend the Finn River elementary school in the central village area. Because new snow-removal technology kept the roads cleared it was then possible for school children to travel to central Finn River in the winter. It seemed that many things happened at about the same time,which had the effect of opening up the segmented, rather self-contained neighborhoods. But some of the old patterns remained. Today the neighbor relation is still a vital component in Finn River's social structure. This is especially the case with retirees and farmers who do not leave their homes to work. APPENDIX D CHARACTERISTICS OF FINN RIVER POPULATION CHARACTERISTICS OF FINN RIVER POPULATION Finn River is a rather small community with only 420 persons, 228 males and 192 females living in 158 house- holds.14 Since the territorial community covers about 25 square miles the population density is about 6.3 households per square mile, or 16.7 persons per square mile. Compare this to 4,407.9 persons per square mile in the Detroit area . 15 Age Distribution First, a look at the age distribution of the Finn River population. Table 45, on the next page, illustrates the distribution of Finn River by sex and age and contrasts this with the population distribution for both urban and rural areas in Michigan, based upon the 1970 census.16 The contrast is to provide a baseline by which to consider the more dramatic features of the Finn River population. Finn River has a relatively high proportion of senior citizens. Both the median age of 38.7 for males and 35.2 for females are far higher than their Michigan urban or rural counterparts: 25.4 for urban males; 25.6 for rural 229 Table 45. 230 Comparison of Finn River Age Distribution to 1970 Michigan Urban and Rural Areas.* Finn Percent of Male Population Finn Percent of Female Population Age River Finn Urban Rural River Finn Urban Rural Mateo mmmmmhmmw 1-4 17 7.5 9.5 9.4 16 8.3 8.6 9.0 5-9 17 7.5 10.6 11.6 19 9.9 9.6 11.1 10-14 22 9.6 11.2 12.2 17 8.9 10.2 11.7 15-19 17 7.5 10.1 9.8 15 7.8 9.7 9.5 20-24 7 3.1 8.1 6.1 6 3.1 8.8 6.8 25-29 11 4.8 6.9 6.2 10 5.2 6.6 6.5 30-34 3-9 5.4 5.8 9 4.7 5-4 5.9 35-39 6 2.6 5.2 5-5 9 4.7 5.3 5.6 40-44 14 6.1 6.0 5.8 7 3.6 6.0 5.8 45-49 5 2.2 6.1 5.5 11 5.7 6.1 5.6 50-54 20 8.8 5.4 5.1 17 8.9 5.5 5.2 55-59 22 9.6 4.6 4.6 18 9.4 4.7 4.5 60-64 33 14.5 3.7 3.9 16 8.3 3.9 3.8 65-69 14 6.1 2.7 3.1 15 7.8 3.1 3.0 70-74 8 3.5 2.0 2.2 5 2.6 2.6 2.3 750n _é _§a.é_£ai_§_-2_£ 1-0 _l&_3_é Total 228 100% 100% 100% 192 100% 100% 100% Median age 38.7 25.4 25.6 35.2 27.3 26.5 % under 18 28.9 37.4 39.9 31.8 34.2 38.2 % 65 on 12.3 7.3 8.2 11.5 9.9 8.9 *Micnigag StatisticalAbstgact. 1974. Finn River data were collected by the author in 1973. r———4J 231 males; 27.3 for urban females; and 26.5 for rural females. This is also reflected in the percentage of the population 65 or older. For the Finn River males it is 12.2% compared to 7.2% for urban males and 8.2% for rural males. Similarly, 11.4% of Finn River females are 65 or older in contrast to 9.5% of urban females and 8.9% of rural females. The higher proportion of persons 50 years and older indicates that the second generation sons and daughters, born between 1900 and 1920, are approaching retirement. In addition, former Finn River residents who migrated to Detroit during the 1930's and 1940's are now returning to live out their retirement years. Since the 1930's young people have been leaving Finn River to work in Detroit. Notice the sharp percentage dif- ferences between Finn River and urban areas in the 20~24 and 25-29 age categories.) The outmigration tendencies of Finn River are quite strong even with respect to all of the other rural areas in Michigan. Young Finn River adults between 20 and 24 years are about twice as likely to leave their community as rural youth throughout the state. Outmigration of young adults contributes to the strikingly high percentage of older persons in the popula- tion, and is also reflected in the smaller percentages of children compared with both urban and rural areas of the state. Many of Finn River's younger adults are making their families in the cities of downstate Michigan. The percen- tage of male children under 18 years of age is 28.9% in 232 Finn River as compared with 39.9% for all the other rural areas of Michigan; and for Finn River females it is 31.8% in contrast to 38.2% for the other Michigan rural areas. Sexual composition It is also apparent that in Finn River there are far more males than females. Table 46 compares Finn River sex ratios with Baraga County, urban Michigan, rural Michi- gan and the nation. The 118.8 Finn River sex ratio is far higher than other rural areas of Michigan. Although their numbers are significantly smaller than Finn River's, the Baraga County sex ratio is also dramatically higher than the rest of rural Michigan. A surprising difference exists between the Finn River sex ratio for those persons under 18 years of age, and the corresponding scores for the other aggregates. Most of this is due to peculiar quirks involving the birth of many males in a few Finn River families, especially between 1960 and 1964. One family has eight boys and no girls and two others have four boys and no girls. Obviously the Finn River population is such a small sample that this trend would dis- appear during a longer period. We do notice, however, that in Baraga County the sex ratio is higher than in the other rural areas of Michigan. It may be the result of difficult circumstances for many small scale dairy operators. This is an especially intense predicament for U.P. farmers since due to their 233 Table “6 . Sex Ratio Comparisons Between Finn River and 1970 National, State and County Data. Age Finn Baraga Urban Rural Category Riygg, County M1281. Migh; Q4§L All ages 118.8 109.3 94.3 93.2 94.8 Under 18 108.2 105.9 103.3 105.5 104.2 65 on 127.3 106.1 69.6 93.2 72.2 *Sex ratio refers to the number of males per 100 fe- males. Finn River data was collected in 1973 by the author. U.Sfi and Michigan Data are from Michigag Statistical Abstract. 197 . 234 relative geographical isolation from urban markets, high competition exists for the local market. Since the 1950's many persons have opted out of dairy farming. Many were faced with the decision of either increasing their capital investment and expanding the scope of their operations or quitting the dairy farming business. If the.farm family had one or more sons who might take over the business after the parents retire this provides an additional incentive to invest in fixed capital which would have long range payoffs. Whereas a family not having any sons might decide not to make the long range financial commitment because they would be retiring in a few years, with no one to take over the Operation. Hence many farmers may choose to stay in the area because they have sons who will eventually benefit from their investment. Farm families without sons may be more likely to decide to sell their farms and move into another area near employment opportunities. By far the greatest difference between Finn River sex ratios and those of other aggregates lies in the 65 and over category. The 65 and over Finn River sex ratio is 127.3 as compared with 93.2 in rural Michigan. Generally sex ratios of the aged are far lower since females in indus- trial societies outlive males. This is simply not the case in Finn River where the sex ratio of the elderly is far higher than for all ages combined. Several trends can account for this discrepancy. As widows get older, they move out of Finn River in higher 235 rates than their male age counterparts. A good deal of heavy work, culturally defined as male labor, is involved in daily life. Many people must chop their own firewood for either primary or supplemental cooking and heating fuel. Shoveling snow is a strenuous and never-ending task in the winter. Automobiles are difficult to start during the cold winter temperatures and require constant maintenance which is in an entirely alien activity sphere for the Finn River female. Traveling to shop or to see a doctor is a problem because few older Finn River females have learned to drive cars. Hence, most widows find old age especially difficult because the culturally defined sexual division of labor has oriented their entire lives away from the daily physical tasks they must confront when they live alone. Finn River culture has had a strong masculine flavor. The initial Finnish immigration was heavily skewed in favor of males. Landless males roaming throughout Fin- land working wherever seasons permitted constituted the largest portion of the immigrants (Hoglund, 1974: ll). Finnish females could rather easily find work as domestic servants working in return for room and board and a small allowance. During the period between 1893 and 1902, 53,098 of the Finnish immigrants were males and only 30,172 were females. The sex ratio of Finnish immigrants was 175 males per 100 females (wargelin, 1924). The heavy male bias in the initial immigration coupled with the rugged bachelor-lumberjack life style 236 created a local cultural tradition oriented toward masculine styles of life. A strong masculine bachelor subculture makes Finn River a psychologically comfortable setting for unmarried males and widowers. Most older males want to stick it out in Finn River with their age peers, rather than live in a nursing home. Aged widows seem far less reluctant to move into a town or nursing facility. The large prOportion of male bachelors is illustrated in Tables 47 and 48 on the next pages containing a comparison of the distribution of Finn River males and females across household role combinations. Twenty~two bachelor males constitute 23.5% of the adult male population, whereas bachelor women account for only 4.6% of the adult female 17 Male bachelors population. The bachelor sex ratio is 633. have a .58 probability of living alone. All of the widowers were able to cope with daily life alone, whereas one out of two Finn River widows move into a house with another brother or sister. Geographical stability The vast majority of all adult Finn River residents live their lives within familiar cultural scenes. As summarized in Table 49 crossclassifying the adults by sex, birthplace, and childhood residence, among the adult males 60.5% are natives, whereas only 39.7% of the adult females are so classified. Even among the non-natives most grew up within 30 miles of Finn River; 39% of the nonvnative males 237 Table 47. Distribution of Finn River Males by Household Role Combinations. Household RoleCombinationg Freguency Percent Husband (living only with wife) 52 22.8 Husband-Father (living with wife and one or more children) 55 24.1 Bachelor-Brother (living with brother and/or sister) 16 7.0 Bachelor (living alone) 22 9.7 Widower (living alone) 7 3-1 Son (only child living with one or both parents) 14 6.2 Son-Brother (living with one or both parents and one or more brothers and/or sisters) 55 24.1 Father (widower living with one or more children) 2 .9 Husband-Father-Son (living with wife, one or more children and father or mother) 1 .4 Husband-Father-Brother (living with wife, one or more children. and brother or sister) 1 .4“ Husband-Brother-in-law (living with wife and her brother or sister) 2 .9 Uncle (living with niece and her husband) I... L. Total 228 100% 238 Table 48. Distribution of Finn River Females by Household Role Combinations. HouseholdfiRole Combinations Wife (living with husband) Wife-Mother (living with husband and one or more children) Bachelor-Sister (living with brother or sister) Widow (living alone) Daughter (only child living with one or both parents) Daughter-Sister (living with one or both parents and one or more brothers and/or sisters) Mother (widow living with child) Wife-Mother—Daughter-in-law (living with husband, children and husband's mother) Wife-Mother-Sister-in-law (living with husband, children and husband's brother or sister) Wife-Sister (living with husband and brother or sister) Wife-Niece (living with husband and uncle) Widow-Sister (living with brother or sister) Total Frequency 52 55 54 I. 192 Percent 27.1 28.7 3.1 3.6 3.6 28.1 1.0 .5 .5 100% Table “9 o and Childhood Residence. Birthplace Finn River native Non-native Total Childhood Residence of Non-natives Within 15 miles of Finn River 16-30 miles 31-50 miles Upper Peninsula over 50 miles Lower Peninsula rural area Lower Peninsula urban area Rural area out- side of Michigan Urban area out- side of Michigan Finland Missing data Total 239 Adult Males Finn River Adult Population by Sex, Birthplace Adult Females Frequenoy_ Percent Frequencerercent 98 _é€t 162 16 ll 64 60.5 2205 100% 25.0 luQI 6.3 10.9 3-2 4.7 4.7 9.4 1.6 20.3 100% 52 .22 131 23 18 .p 79 39.7 61,3 100% 29.1 22.7 6.3 5.1 7.6 10.1 2.5 8.9 5.1 100% 240 and 51% of the non-native females. Hence, roughly 80% of all the adults were socialized within or intensively exposed to Upper Peninsula Finnish culture. Most Finn River residents have lived in the com- munity for their entire lives. Males and females were asked to calculate the total number of years they have lived there, discounting those years in which they lived elsewhere. The mean number of years lived in the community for males is 34 years and for females 27 years. Table 50 illustrates the relation between the total number of years lived in the community and the current adult population distribution. Within the last five years there has been a noticeable migration into the community. These new arrivals include both retired returning migrants and young couples seeking to escape the stresses of urban life. Most of these peOple work in nearby towns. A good many males and females living in Finn River from 36 to 50 years have ages about five to seven years higher than the number of years they lived in the community. Most of these people moved to Detroit during the post World War II economic boom, and moved back to Finn River as they were laid off during the late 19505. The data indicate that most of Finn River's adult population have grown up in or very near the community, and have lived in Finn River for a substantial portion of their lives. Cultural homogeneity is the by-product of such population stability. Let us consider this ethnic cultural dimension. 241 Table 50. Total Years Lived in Finn River by Sex and Mean Age. Mglgg Females {Stainiears Mean Mean Riyer Frequency Percent Agg_ Frequency Percent Agg_ 0-5 22 13.6 40 23 17.7 33 6-10 7 4.3 48 8 6.2 46 11-15 5 3.1 40 6 4.6 36 16-20 13 8.0 34 18 13.8 38 21-25 16 9.9 46 9 6.9 51 26-30 10 6.2 48 15 11.5 52 31-35 5 3.1 41 13 10.0 52 36-40 5 3.1 45 4 3.1 53 41-45 11 6.8 51 6 4.6 61 46-50 11 6.8 56 7 5.4 57 51-55 22 13.6 58 12 9.2 60 56-60 19 11.6 60 4 3.1 61 61 on .12. ..212. 29. ___i __212 25 Total 162 100% 50 130 100% 48 242 Ethnic cultural homogeneity In Finn River approximately 85% of the males and 79% of the females consider themselves to be Finnish. Swedish and French-Canadian people each make up about 3%, and the remaining 11% are of mixed ethnic backgrounds. Table 51 on the next page illustrates the distri- bution of language skills by age and sex categories. One frequently hears Finnish spoken amongst the second genera- tion. Sixty-seven percent of the adult males and 61% of adult females are bilingual, speaking both English and Finnish. Only about 2% of the adult population speaks only Finnish, and about the same portion is bilingual speaking both Swedish and English. There are no traces of the French language left in Finn River. In the 18-28 age category none of the males and 15.8% of the females speak Finnish. (Perhaps a few more females in the younger age categories still speak Finnish because sex role confinement to the home increased their interaction with aging grandparents for whom their parents were caring.) The third generation has lost its ethnic linguistic heritage. In the adult education programs offered by the local school system, for the past three years there have been at least two beginning Finnish courses offered. Young and middle-aged peOple actually feel a sense of loss over their vanishing linguistic heritage, but the investment in time and energy required to learn the Finnish language appears to outweigh their desire to recapture it. Language Skill by Age and Sex. 51. Table Marginal Totals Bilingual English- Swedish Bilingual English- Finnish h lnnlS Monolingual F Monolingual En lish Age Male Female Female Male Female Male Female Male Female Male Cate o -28 1 03' CO“ NOH H CO HON NOH H 043 O O ok3c> QC) 0 O ok3c> c>o O O ok>c> OO O I OIOO 29-39 11+.6 10.5 11 10. ow: O O okac: cc: 0 O ok>c> run 0 O uflwnn «x QC) 0 O ok3c> c>o O 0 ok3c> 11 Row Pet 64.? C01 Pct 22.9 Count 40-50 243 0:? 0. COM NOH 1-4 0 HON NOH H 00 O. OIOO OO O O <3K>o 03' O. 0T3UW H H -3 N w: e4 c>o O O ok3c> cc: 0 O <3K>o 1 Count Row PC 001 Pc 51-61 OW OQ) ON H ON OW OM c>o O O cfloco (>0 0 I ok3c> Fun OHCD COM L\-O\ O O CIR-W :2- OO O O Ok3c> c>o O O ok3c> .2 18.9 15.2 .2 Row Pct 12.3 C0]. Pet 1406 Count 62 on 8.8 100.0 6.5 001 Pet 6.2 Count Row Pct 0Q o>fluowuoum m.uosopumw H0>Hm scam .Hm magmas .mooumuom msfiuwm>umm MOSQUHMU H®>Hm GGHW .mm mnswwm poom ucoEommm Hmowmme .umHHoU .Nm Tasman 264 Vegetables, juice and berries and make jams and jellies. Some even can fish when their freezer is too full for it. Women buy few convenience foods, and bake their own breads, cakes, cookies and pies. Some knit their family's sweaters, socks and mittens; and some women make a good portion of their own and their children's clothes. Some women make rag rugs for their floors and a few women make colorful homemade quilts. They buy many things when they are on sale, and cut all sorts of corners to make their small budgets meet the family needs. Figure 33 shows a Finn River man working in his garden. Notice he is wearing an insulated jacket and a hat. It is the second week in September and this man is harvest- ing his winter potatoes, the basic staple in Finn River people's diet. Generally root, rather than leafy vegetables, which are less vulnerable to killing summer frosts, account for most of the gardening effort. This includes potatoes, rutabagas, turnips, carrots, onions, beets, and radishes. Working in the garden is experienced in a way unlike work in a factory. The subsistence agricultural motives are a complex mixture of economic cost minimization and intrinsic pleasure. Finn River people find gardening very enjoyable, and many claim they do it for the sheer pleasure of getting their hands into the soil and watching the plants growu Confronted with such a harsh.winter climate, the Finn River residents have learned to appreciate their short growing season in a way that persons living in warmer climates take 265 for granted. And everything seems to grow in a rush as if it knew that it had only a little time left before the return of cold weather. Actually things grow quickly in Finn River because since they are so far north, the sun shines longer during summer days than in most sections of the nation. Finn River men and women have learned a surprisingly vast range of skills to help them c0pe with a harsh environ- ment with very limited monetary reserves. Men take pride in being a "jack of all trades." They are unlike middle class urbanites insofar as they insist upon understanding the inner mechanisms of their regularly used technological facilities. If they drive cars they know what goes on under the hood. A sense of discomfort pervades a Finn River man if he has simply a push—button knowledge of a technological apparatus. When males visit with one another they discuss common techno-environmental topics like accelerator jets, vacuum advances, thermostats, furnaces, and virtually every- thing encountered in their immediate environment. One tells the other about a problem he was working on and they exchange information about appropriate solutions and cost considera- tion. If one man buys a new car and visits a friend, they examine it thoroughly. They lift up the hood and study the engine. Rather than feeling the texture of the upholstery, they will remove the air cleaner and examine the carburetor or even crawl under the car to look at the suspension system. 266 Leaf strings and shock absorbers command more attention than arm rests and bucket seats. It is not uncommon for a Finn River male to completely disassemble something he has pur— chased to study the logic of the inner mechanisms. Finn River peOple are creative improvisers in problem situations. Often they not only do the job them- selves, but actually design and construct the tools with which to do it. They are aware of this creative improvisa- tion tendency among their peOple and are proud of it. When asking about such matters, I have seen old men squint their eyes and while staring directly into me with a self— confidence approaching arrogance, and say, "A cat will find its claws when there is need." Finnish folk wisdom is often clothed in such a naturalistic analog. Spare parts are stored in every conceivable place and the male of the household seems to know where every- thing is, in what often appears to be a junk pile. Figure 34 illustrates beautifully how Finn River people hesitate to throw things away because they anticipate the use of spare parts in future repair situstions. Notice the cluttered appearance of this outside wall and look closely at the different types of salvaged technology. Old vacuum cleaner hoses are good for channeling auto exhaust fumes out of the garage when you work on the car. Hoses can always be cut to fit a radiator. Inner tubes should always be saved to make snowshoe bindings, gaskets, and various cushions. Old dish drainers are useful for holding auto parts when you 267 Figure 34. Junk Salvaged for Spare Parts. Figure 35. Tool Designed and Made by a Finn River Man. I 268 dipping them into kerosene or gasoline cleaning solutions. Wire should always be saved, and you would be wise to always carry a little roll in your car in case something happens on the road. This man saves old sled runners and all sorts of metal parts because he does his own welding. Cylinder head gaskets, old axe handles and pieces of pipe should never be thrown away because "you never know when you might need it." In Figure 35 just beneath the outdoor spare parts warehouse is a modest example of adaptive skill guided by an economic cost minimization c0ping strategy; A trapper designed and made this tool for skinning beaver. He did not like the commercial skinning knives already on the market because he could not apply enough pressure against the hide while skinning the animal without careful effort, and it is very easy to slip and accidently cut the hide. The slightest damage to the hide gives the fur buyer an opportunity to slash down his price. Skinning several beaver properly after spending the day on snowshoes in the woods and eating a big meal is no easy task, and errors are very expensive. A piece of pipe was crimped at one end and welded to a tempered piece of scrap iron. The blade was carefully ground to a sharp edge and honed even sharper. A handle grip from an old bicycle was slightly greased on the inside and worked onto one end to complete the tool. This is a very modest innovation performed in this case because there was no product available on the market. 269 But it illustrates the decisions Finn River peOple often make when confronted by a problem in their daily work routine. A typical urban middle class person probably would not think of making a tool to use in the course of a manual work project. Finn River residents first try to make their tool, and if they do not have the parts or necessary equipment they will borrow a tool from a neighbor. While in Finn River I observed several work projects of greater complexity. One tobacco chewing jack—of-all- trades built a hydraulic firewood splitting machine because his shoulders were beginning to give him a little trouble when he chopped wood. Another man and his friend built a custom camper top for a pickup truck. It was built with a 3/16" angle iron frame, covered with aluminum sheeting, and had sliding glass windows installed. It looked like some- thing that may cost several hundred dollars if commercially manufactured. The men are always shifting motors from one car into another and taking parts from wrecked cars and installing them into newer cars. They have learned to do many of the things that urban peOple pay others to do. Figure 36 on the next page and Figure 37 just beneath it shows Finn River men in a work situation outside of conventional occupations. Men spend hours in their cluttered workshops doing their own repair jobs and making the things they need. Notice the many different parts hanging on the walls and on the window sill. This is a very typical work setting, and the kind of places where males J Ii tl‘lllll‘l I'F|.ll|tl l 270 Figure 36. Farmer Sharpening an Axe in His Workshop. 2 I ' -. fl 3321,- w 1/ Figure 37. Farmer Watching Buyer Grade Pelts. 271 like to retreat for man—to-man conversations. The farmer is sharpening his axe. He uses it in a wide variety of situations and must keep a keen edge on it. In Figure 37 directly below, a trapper has taken a coyote pelt to the local fur buyer. He is watching intently as the buyer examines it closely. If he can spot even the slightest cut into the hide he will give the trapper far less than it is worth. Local trappers are at the mercy of the fur buyers, and there is a great deal of resentment over their price-fixing practices. Several Finn River men try to earn a few extra dollars in the spring and fall by trapping muskrats, beaver, mink, foxes and coyotes. It is the hardest way that I have ever seen to make spare cash. But to the men it is much more than simply an economic activity. The experience of working a trapline involves a communion With nature that the anti-trapping, anti—hunting, urban ecologist will never comprehend. The female work world centers around food prepara- tion and cleaning. Women do virtually all of the grocery shopping, usually in the Finn River Cooperative Store. Figure 38 shows this phase of a woman's work routine. When the CooP introduced the shopping cart, males were reluctant to use them because it seemed very similar to pushing a baby buggy or stroller. Since this is solidly defined by the culture as part of a woman's role, to be seen pushing 272 Figure 39. Laundry Hanging to Dry. 273 the shopping cart was experienced as a threat to the mascu- line sexual identity. Figure 39 directly below shows a segment of the woman's cleaning work role. Most women hang their laundry outside even during the winter. A subtle competition goes on in the community among the women regarding the clothes washing activity. It is important for a woman to get her clothes washed and hanging out on the line very early in the morning. Others passing by will see her drying clothes as cultural evidence of successful role performance. Modern clothes dryers prevent women from communicating their enthusiasm for work to the larger community. Figure 40 and Figure 41 on the next page show Finn River women in their food preparation work role. Figure 40 at the top of the page shows a woman who is the cook in the Finn River school. She is reputed to be one of the best cooks in the area. When the women do perform work for out! side employers, it usually involves food preparation activity such as in restaurants and school cafeterias. Figure 41 shows an older Finn River woman preparing food on a wood stove. Only a few families still use wood as the primary cooking fuel. There is also a subtle competition among the women concerning who is the best cook. This competition is a very real phenomenon, although it is regularly denied by the women. Everyone knows the competition exists, and everyone plays the game of denying its reality. Occasionally men rib 274 Figure 40. Cook in Finn River School Kitchen. Figure 41. Finn River Woman Cooking on Her Wood Stove. 275 their wives about it, but recognizing her touchiness over, this competition, they do not push the issue very far. Finn River people have adapted very well to their harsh environment by diversifying their work skills. They do not need as much money as the typical urban middle class occupational specialist who must pay another specialist to solve most of his technological problems. A certain generalized competance is recognized by both males and females, and prestige is rendered accordingly. The people live in a diversified, labor—intensive mode of cultural adaptation designed to minimize economic costs. They seem to have done quite well, and to live satisfactorily in spite of their relatively low cash incomes. Perceived security of income source Finn River people perceive their sources of monetary income to be relatively secure and certain to continue. Figure 42 on the next page is a histogram detailing the perceptions of the certainty and reliability of the family's source of monetary income by age categories and sex. "Five" on the scale was defined as "being as secure and reliable as the average family's source of income." Even though the forestry industry has two to three weeks of unemployment in the spring, the unemployment bene- fits given through the Michigan Employment Security Commis- sion cover the laid-off workers during this period. Unemployment is regarded by Finn River males as both gh 10w» 1' 276 mmsfloopom mofinowopmo ow< .m: ouswfim no mo Honda omuoa mmnmm mmuma Am m m m m m m m .IIJH q a a A a q A A q a < < < 4 < < < < < < a 2 z s s 2 a s s a m m m m m m a a a a L L L L L r 4 0 30a 1. H at N n1 T... Tc .1 m 8 S Du an? 1. a m. Io B a n.- “ TO.” 0 U .I W A. R ... m AI 0 l! OH ems: 279 illustrating the levels of perceived life satisfaction within different categories of age and sex. Once again on a scale of 10 ranks, the fifth rank was verbally defined to the respondent as "living under what you regard as the average conditions of life." "Con- ditions of life" was elaborated to include all possible criteria as a generalized measure of how satisfied one is with one's life. The least satisfied persons are in the 18-28 age category. This is the same age group having the weakest sense of income security. Also in this category the life satisfaction scores coincide closer with perceived income security than in the other age categories. It is also in this age group that the women experience the least satis- faction with 1ife. I suSpect this is because the children are young, and given the cultural rules specifying sexual division of work, the woman is responsible for almost all the domestic work. The low satisfaction it seems, can be attributed to the sheer volume of work she is faced with in this period of her life. Those persons in the 29-39 age category are the most satisfied with their lives. This group was also highest in perceived income security. In this age category the women are slightly more satisfied with their lives than are the men. The lowest level of life satisfaction for males is in the 51-61 age category, and it increases slightly after 280 62 years of age. I suSpect that in the labor-intensive work culture a male reaches a crisis stage in his life when he realizes that his physical strength is no longer what it used to be. During the course of sexual segregated male to male conversation, quite a few Finn River males have talked to me about this realization. Urban males working essen— tially non-physical jobs may not experience this crisis point over stamina dissipation. Male life in this rugged logging and farming community still is permeated with the lumberjack ethos. A man is measured according to the extent to which he can perform strenuous physical labor. A life of struggle in the far north.woods has molded a culture of toughness and a people who value themselves in terms of it. APPENDIX E DATA COLLECTION METHODS DATA COLLECT ION METHODS Considerations in selecting the fieldsite The best fieldsite for this study was believed to be a community. In order to get an adequate measure of the range of exchange content, the social context should be one in which the peOple have numerous occasions to interact with one another. A rural community in which peOple interact as neighbors, kinsmen, co—parishoners, co-workers, visitors, and leisure partners seemed to be one of the best places to find adequate variation in the range of exchange content variable. The peOple should be accustomed to helping one another in a side variety of situations. Relative isolation of the community from urban commercial services was expected to facilitate interhousehold helping behavior. The assump- tion was that peOple rely upon one another more frequently when other alternatives are not available. It was important to select a fieldsite where the people have developed a tradition of helping one another. Hopefully it would be a setting where labor was exchanged for labor and cash was a 281 282 part of some but not all transactions, because at a future date I wanted to examine how the external cash economy intervenes in non-monetary local exchange systems. The concept of density refers to one aspect of the ways in which the personal networks of different actors interlock with one another. In this study visiting common structural density is an important variable. In future analysis I wish to delineate various clique structures and assess the effects of different prOperties of cliques upon exchange behaviors. When working with properties of the interconnection of personal networks as a variable, it is necessary to capture, as close as possible, the entire com- munity network structure. At the practical level of data collection this amounts to getting all of the residents to agree to be interviewed. In order to get residents to consent to what is at times a threatening interview, a researcher must cultivate friendship relations with the people and earn their trust. This requires a great deal of time and energy inputs into casual conversation about daily concerns. While talking to the researcher the peOple assess his trustworthiness. A researcherybecause of time and energy limitations,cannot earn the trust of everyone. Therefore, the community size should be small enough for the researcher to be able to develOp friendships with practically all of the people. 283 A community of 100 to 150 households was believed to be the maximum community size in which I could have a reasonable chance of getting universal consent to the interview. For the purposes of obtaining an adequate measure of density there had to be a sufficient amount of interaction between members of the different households. A field setting that was strictly a "bedroom community" would not be suitable. I believed there should be some economic activity within the community so the adults do not go their separate ways during the working days. Since I wanted to collect additional data in a random, follow-up sample, the community had to be large enough to permit the selection of a decent sample size. A community of less than fifty households was believed to be too small for this purpose. In future analyses I wanted to see what effects persons at different stages in a life cycle have upon the nature and scope of participation in the com- munity social network. The community had to be largeenough to permit the inclusion of a sufficient number of people at different life cycle stages. With respect to these consid— erations a community of at least one hundred peOple was believed to be the appropriate size. Initial method of mapping a community exchange network The research method follows directly from the P-centric metatheoretical orientation and the definition of exchange content as that which the transactors themselves 284 perceive to be given and/or received during a transaction. It was necessary to live in the community to discover the cultural repertoire of exchange content regularly trans- acted between individuals. In this particular geographical setting it was necessary to remain in the community for over a year to discover those kinds of transactions executed during all stages of the seasonal cycle. It was also necessary to invest a great deal of time living in the community in order to gain the trust of as many of the people as possible. The people of Finn River at times seemed worried when a stranger asked them to mention the names and residential locations of their close friends and kinsmen. Some people were worried about implicating their friends into something toward which they were at times suspicious. I believe social network research requires more trust and far more rapport on the part of interviewees than does other kinds of survey research. This is especially true if one is engaged in holistic network research; that is, if one is trying to delineate an entire network without missing many of the actors. The problem is not as serious if one were doing random sample interviews of unconnected personal networks, and not looking at how these personal net- works form a structure. If one is concerned with the larger network structure, then the refusal of a few key actors in the network can significantly alter the picture. 285 Comprehensive holistic exchange network data, it seems, can only be successfully gathered if the researcher is willing to invest a great deal of time intensively par- ticipating in the exchange life of the network. It is especially important that the researcher systematically dis- tribute his participation in several zones of the network to prevent becoming encapsulated within a particular zone. The universal tendency is for a fieldworker engaged in partici- pant observation to develop intense bonds with a few informants and to rely on them for psychological support and information and thereby become welded into a certain zone of the structure. The damaging consequences of this are two- fold: first, the fieldworker fails to develop trust with most of the members of the network and is therefore limited to perhaps an unrepresentative sample of the major structure; and second, his perceptions of the kinds of exchange behaviors, exchanged contents, and forms of social inter- action are limited and therefore likely not representative of the larger structure. The problem of avoiding social structural confinement was solved by living within three different neighborhoods. By interacting as a neighbor, this fieldworker received neighborly hospitality from many more people than would have been the case if he were encapsulated within a particular zone of the larger network. Shifting residential locations was one of the main factors establishing the bonds of trust between me and a wide range of people in the community. 286 Intimate social interaction was achieved by this researcher because he was of the same ethnic background as that cf virtually all of the members of the community. I was liked by the people of the community because they per— ceived me as "a nice Finnish boy." Similarity of marital status was a factor partially determining the scope of my visiting network. Bachelor males visit other bachelor males and married couples jointly visit other married couples. If a married man visits a bachelor male he goes without his spouse; and the same is true if a married woman visits either a widow or an unmarried woman. During the course of my field work, I was able to develop a large visiting network as a consequence of having two marital statuses. Initially I entered the field and spent six months without my wife. As a bachelor I was able to enter the bachelor exchange networks and interact on the basis of similar marital status with the many single men and widowers. When my wife joined me in the field, we visited as a married couple. This dual status gave me the opportunity to visit with more people and to thereby earn their trust. The community is characterized by extreme sexual segregation, relative to university community interaction patterns. My wife was able to participate in the feminine exchange networks and win the trust of the women and thereby\ observe the forms of female social relationships, and trans- action patterns. In this way she could discover the cultural 287 repertoire of exchange contents transacted between the women. Given the sexual segregation patterns, I could never have charted the feminine side of the exchange system, were it not for my wife, a graduate student in social anthropology, participating in the womens' exchange sphere. While in the field, we kept notes documenting the kinds of exchange contents we observed persons transacting with one another. The list of regularly exchanged contents includes twenty-four different categories of help; six categories of loaning and borrowing; two kinds of ceremonial gift exchange; and eleven categories of informal gifting. In addition, there were 70 episodes of voluntary group labor. After one and a half years in the field, the field- worker developed a lengthy (89 page) questionnaire based upon the list of exchange content categories discovered during the course of fieldwork. Respondents were asked to consider each kind of exchange content category and report with whom they gave or received the particular kind of exchange content, within the past year. Since many of the people had not received emergency help within a year, I asked them to report hypothetically to indicate whom they would ask for help if they needed it; and whom the respon~ dents would ask to give general, non—emergency assistance if they were suddenly bedridden. 288 The kinds of exchange content were collapsed into three categories: help (also referred to as "giving a hand"); loaning and borrowing; and gift giving. The help category items included: emergency sick- ness or injury assistance; general non-emergency help when bedridden; giving a ride; troubles while on the road; auto repairs while not on the road; running errands; shoveling or plowing snow; painting; roof repairs; various tasks involving cement work; masonry work; lifting and moving; hauling a load for someone; making firewood, well repairs; electrical repairs; plumbing work; carpentry work; hay harvesting work; general assistance in the cowbarn; babysitting; keeping one's eyes open for a good buy on a product; furnace repairs; gardening work; and helping someone fill out their income tax forms. The kinds of exchange content items loaned and borrowed fit in the general categories of hand tools; reading material; kitchen utensils; sports equipment; larger equipment and vehicles and household items. The kinds of gifting transactions included were divided into two categories: ceremonial gifting and infor- mal gifting. Ceremonial gifting included birthday and Christmas gifts. Wedding and high school graduation gifts were omitted because some of the respondents would have to furnish extremely long lists. Most of the wedding and high school graduation gifts were included as informal gifts falling into the category of household items. 289 Informal gifting transactions included such exchange content categories as plants and seedlings; recipes of any kind; meat from small game; venison; all types of furniture and household supplies and equipment; preserves of all kinds; used clothing; berries; apples and other fruit; fresh garden vegetables; and baked goods of all kinds. Also included in the questionnaire for each respon- dent were twenty-five items referring to individual back- ground characteristics such as age, sex, education and other information. For the purposes of future analysis I asked respondents to specify: the voluntary associations of which they were participating members, who recruited them and whom they recruited; persons in work networks, recreation and leisure networks; the kinds of social roles connecting them with each person they mentioned in the questionnaire; and the residential locations of the mentioned Others. The community exchange network sample Within the perceived boundaries of the community are 158 households. (See Appendix D for characteristics of the Finn River population.) Twelve percent of these households were p93 included in the exchange network survey for various reasons. Six households all living in one neighborhood thought the project "smelled of communism," and refused to be interviewed. 290 In the 19205 local communists and socialists urged the farmers to unite and "cooperate" with one another. The title of the questionnaire was "The COOperation Patterns Survey." Several of these more conservative peOple associ- ated my title with the slogans they heard forty years ago and came to the conclusion that the "communists are behind it." The data from these six households was not lost because their transactions with Others of the community will be reported on the Others' questionnaires. As it turns out they were only mentioned on a few occasions. The remaining households omitted on the exchange network survey besides those refusing the interview were judged by the researcher as not sufficiently a part of the community. Four homes were vacant when we collected the data because the inhabitants were marginal residents living in the community only during their summer vacation or part of November during the deer hunting season. Four families were in the process of moving into the community, so they were not yet sufficiently a part of it. Two more families were in the process of moving out of their rented homes to live in a nearby town. Three other families were complete social outcasts in the community, having no contact with the rest of the people. And finally, in two households persons were critically ill, and in one of these a person died during the data collection period. Even though these 291 households were intentionally excluded, transactions they have performed with any Of the other members of the com- munity have been reported on the other members' question- naires, so the data are not lost. Of those the researcher judged to be of the community (as Opposed to merely living within the geographical boun- dary), 96.2% agreed to complete the questionnaire. I believe we have succeeded in collecting the data necessary to reconstruct as complete a community exchange network as can reasonably be expected. The interviewer gave each respondent the question- naire, verbally instructed them how to fill it out, and demonstrated how to answer each type Of question. Respon— dents were then left tO fill out the questionnaire by themselves. The interviewer and respondent later checked through the entire questionnaire to correct any errors and fill in missing information. The data were coded while the researcher was teaching at a small university twenty-seven miles away from the fieldsite. During the coding process errors, omissions and ambiguous responses were doublechecked by telephoning the respondents and clarifying the information. Each questionnaire was coded and manually verified for accuracy. Four separate computer programs were written to detect possible coding errors through internal consis- tency cross-checking procedures. The computer-detected errors were corrected. 292 Follow-up sampling from the respondents included in the exchange network From the exchange network questionnaire I could operationalize two variables; the range of exchange content, and visiting common structural density. A simple count Of the number Of different exchange content categories within which Person and Other transacted would serve as the indi- cator Of range Of exchange content. Visiting common structural density could be calculated with the computer by comparing Person and Other's visiting networks and counting the number Of times the same Visitor appears in each. Additional data were needed to construct indicators of historical concern, self-maximizing orientation, and interpersonal attraction. The original strategy was to select a random sample from the set of Persons who completed the exchange network questionnaire, and ask them to make judgments on the Others previously reported in their exchange network. Such judgments concerned hypothetical situations which on the basis Of field Observations this researcher believes touched on the above mentioned variables. However, after having worked for five to six hours to fill out a questionnaire which asked for a reporting Of all their transactions for the past year; and, after this enduring an additional hour going through each question with the interviewer to make sure there were no errors or omis- sions; and, in spite of this to have to answer questions over the telephone concerning ambiguities the interviewer 293 discovered while coding the questionnaire, it was clear to this researcher that the good people of the community (who were in many cases threatened by such personal questions requiring them to mention their friends' names) were becoming reluctant to answer further questions. The good will of the respondents had quite understandably reached a limit. This researcher plans to remain in touch with the community and to at some future date carry on more research and was therefore unwilling to demand more from the people at that time. For this final phase a random sample was initially selected by shuffling cards with all the respondents' names written on them, and selecting forty (17%) Of the pOpulation. After living almost three years in the community, admini- stering, collecting and correcting errors this researcher knew the people well enough to determine which ones would not agree to undergo another two and a half hours Of inter- viewing. The follow-up interview was even more threatening because it required the respondent to go on record, specifying in quantitative terms just how much they liked, trusted, perceived as being good-hearted and expected to exchange with in the future those close friends and neigh- bors earlier reported on the questionnaire. Those persons encountered in the random sample who refused to be interviewed were excluded from the sample. Ten out of the forty randomly selected individuals were excluded from the follow-up interview. These excluded 294 persons were replaced by individuals the researcher believed were representative Of the community and would be likely to consent to the follow-up interview. Given this state Of the field conditions the researcher settled for a quasi-random sample Of forty persons (17 percent of the population) which was slightly biased in the direction Of selecting persons who would be likely to agree to be further interviewed. Strictly speaking, the follow-up interview was administered to a sample of respon- dents who previously completed the exchange network questionnaire, 12.5 percent Of which was randomly selected, and 4.2 percent was selected according to their representa- tiveness and their reasonable likelihood Of consenting to the interview. However, in apy sample described as being random some persons were selected because others refused to be interviewed. The refusal rate in many cases is quite high, so one could argue that all random sample surveys are biased by factors determining the potential respondents' choice of consenting or rejecting the interviewer's request. This is simply one Of the conditions survey research must live with and work around wherever possible. Method used on the followepp interview In the follow-up interview each Other in a respon- dent's personal network was represented by a card bearing his or her name. The researcher built a wooden collating 295 board divided into ten partitions. One partition was labeled with a question mark, and the other partitions were numbered from one through nine. The board was explained to each respondent as a measuring scale similar to a ruler. The scale was verbally described as a ratio scale by suggesting that if one person were rated two, and another rated four, then the second would have twice as much of the characteristic at issue. Obviously respondents could not make such precise distinc- tions, but the scale was described this way to give it an aura of precision. In fact, pains were taken to make the physical appearance Of the board give the impression of precision. Partitions were equally spaced and the numbers identifying each were carefully drawn and centered perfectly under each partition. Such efforts paid Off because the respondents were amused by the appearance of such a strange looking apparatus, and this image Of precision lent the interview a quality Of importance it would otherwise have not possessed. Subjects were asked to judge Other by drOp- ping their cards into numerically identified partitions. Dropping the cards involved the respondents in the task and made it more interesting to them. Respondents were asked to make judgments of Others by rating each according to a specific exchange behavior attribute that was introduced by the interviewer. Since sexually segregated interaction is the culturally dominant mode Of interpersonal communication, in order to provide a 296 more relaxed atmosphere, the fieldworker interviewed the males and his wife interviewed the females. Respondents were urged to make careful, well-considered judgments. The same procedure was used in each interview. Each exchange behavior attribute was presented to the respondents, in random order. Randomizing the order prevented a system- atic response set. The order of Others to be judged was also randomized to prevent the possibility of a response set determined by the respondents comparing the same sets of Others while making their judgments. That is, if Harry were always judged between Alice and Louie, Harry's rating could very well be effected by Alice's, and Louie's rating could be effected by Harry's. Name cards were shuffled after each trial to prevent this tendency. Respondents were isolated from the other members Of the household both so they could concentrate effectively and so they would be free to make their own judgments indepen- dent Of the social pressures arising from surveillance Of other family members. It was believed that a person might hesitate to give an Other a low judgment in a situation where other members of the family might disagree. Respon- dents were assured of the confidentiality of their judgments. The interviewer pleaded with the respondents to make the most accurate and honest judgments possible, and it is my impression they followed the instructions. The exchange behavior attribute was carefully explained to each respondent to make sure the interviewer 297 and respondent shared the same meaning of the criterion. The relation Of the attribute to the scale was carefully explained and to make sure the respondent prOperly and con- sistently followed the same meaning Of the scale throughout the trial, cards were attached to the upper back part of the scale at both ends and in the middle to semantically define the scale. Observe Figure 44 which illustrates the procedure by which respondents rate the Others in their personal net- works. Figure 44 illustrates the procedure for measuring historical concern. Respondents were read the following paragraph: Some people we know keep track very closely Of who owes them and whom they owe favors, help, or perhaps even money. Other peOple do not seem to think so much about who does what and they pay very little attention to such matters and keep track very little or perhaps not at all. Suppose each of these persons has helped you, loaned stuff to you, and given you certain things just to be nice; and suppose you have done the same for them. Rate each person by dropping their card in the appro- priate slot to indicate your estimate of how closely he or she would keep track of how much he (she) has done for you and how much you have done for him (her). In other words, rate them according to how concerned they are for keeping track of the daily give-and-take in life. The interviewer then placed cards onto the tOp of the scale to give it exact and consistent meaning related to the par- ticular exchange behavior attribute. The scale was explained to the respondent. Slot number one was reserved for those persons he believed to not keep track at all. Slot number five, the middle slot was for those who "keep 298 .muwcpumm omsmsoxm Hausa mo mwflOGOOGOB Hmuofl>mnmm ousseoxm msflumm cw pwzoaaom assetsommmm manpoooum .135” iuk flamm- . ‘ .ee magmas I'll! l‘ x i 299 track about as much as anyone else." The middle slot was described as the "average," the "halfway point," and as being reserved "for those who keep track the normal amount." The number nine slot was reserved for those who "keep track very closely." Number eight was verbally defined as appro- priate for those Others who "keep track very closely but not quite as much as those in number nine." Partitions between the ends and middle were verbally described as being reserved for those persons who keep track just a little more than persons in the partition immediately before it. Respondents were told the question mark on the extreme left hand edge of the scale was to be used when they believed they could not make a particular judgment on a person because they lacked the informational basis for making the decision. Respon- dents were urged to make judgments whenever reasonably possible. Since most of the respondents interact with Others they have known for many years, there were very few instances where no judgment could be made. (See Appendix D describing the distribution of lengths of residence in Finn River.) Before starting each trial, respondents were asked if they understood how to make the judgments. They were reminded to use the entire scale, when it was necessary to make precise distinctions in their judgments. The inter— viewer made a few hypothetical judgments at different ranges of the scale to make sure the respondents understood the need for maximum precision. 300 The interviewer shuffled the name cards of Others thoroughly and the respondent began to make judgments by dropping the name cards into the numerically identified partitions. While the respondent was making judgments, the interviewer recorded each Other's rating onto a separate alphabetized namelist. After the respondent rated all Others with regard to a particular exchange behavior attribute, the name cards were once again shuffled thoroughly, and a new randomly selected attribute was explained to the respondent. New cards were attached to the top of the scale to redefine it, consistent with the new attribute. Let us consider the exchange behavior attributes used to operationalize inter- personal attraction and self-maximizing orientation variables. The following instructions were used to explain how to rate the interpersonal attraction variable: Some people we know we simply like more than others. There is something about them which makes it especially enjoyable to be in their company. Other people we do not like as much, even though they may be very good peOple. There is simply something which makes us like them less. And some people we do not like at all. Rate each.of these‘ persons as closely as you can by drOpping their card into the partition indicating the extent to which you like them. The statement was carefully worded to let the respondent select the reasons for liking or disliking a person byusing the abstract, Open-ended phrase "there is something about them" and "there is something which makes us . . ." 301 remove any inhibitions respondents might have in rating a particular person low, I suggested that it could be the case that non-liked peOple are still good peOple, even if we do not like them. The scale was defined using the same pro- cedure Of attaching cards bearing the messages: "do not like at all;" "like about as much as anyone else;" and "like very much." The basic dependent variable in the study, self- maximizing orientation (SMO), was Operationalized somewhat differently. During the course of my fieldwork, on many occasions I overheard peOple complaining about the excessive self-maximizing intentions of others. Several times I heard another person criticize the complainer for talking nega- tively about a person behind his (her) back. It occurred to me that persons are Often expected to suppress the desire to report excessive self-maximizing orientations in the presence of persons who may like the target of the report. Hence, I could not expect to ask respondents to estimate the extent to which well-liked Others and close kinsmen are "all out for themselves." In some cases they would feel as though they would be breaking norms that prohibit speaking badly about liked Others. I decided tO use the Opposite criterion Of "good-heartedness" in the rating procedure and to after- wards invert the scale to produce an indicator of self- maximizing orientation. Finn River residents use the term "good-hearted" to describe persons who emphasize giving and downplay receivipg 302 in their transactions. Such persons_give without thinking Of getting something in return, but give out of the goodness Of their heart. While in the field, I overheard a man speaking about two brothers while contrasting their exchange strategies; one was described as "greedy" and "watching out only for himself" while the other was "just the other way around" for he was good-hearted. I asked several informants tO define good-hearted and the regular answers were "unself- ish," "generous," "considerate" and "loving." The local cultural meaning Of good-heartedness seemed appropriate for measuring my concept of self-maximizing orien- tation defined as the extent to which a person transacts for the purpose of producing desirable consequences for himself. The good-hearted person as seen through the cultural meaning system is a person without thoughts Of gain, who does things for Others for the intrinsic pleasure of the action. The attribute was stated: Some people we know are simply more good-hearted than others. Others, though we may like them, are simply not as good-hearted. Estimate, by dropping the cards into the partitions, the extent to which you believe this person is good-hearted. Once again the scale was semantically defined appro- priately for the self-maximizing orientation attribute. At the low end of the scale was the phrase "not good-hearted at all" and the middle "as good-hearted as anyone else," and at the upper end Of the scale, "very good-hearted." APPENDIX F STATISTICAL TABLES 303 at rs.” vmcmc. a .pzuczwnu: rrm :».. :.nmn. r can monnm.. u .ulathxan. n «.uwxum wzwczmaun uuxr Th-y onnnN.v u .ocxarmamr 010 thx cron~.0 u au~xthtsaaw n m.¢mrom «...u.- . «zxcc ...uazmcuc ‘. J1 c u unzatnl_z.mn .onov~.- . u :4, «.332azmx c . uuzqnntnzo.m .amvn~.. » o 3.. «.434mzmx hemozmamo . Amura. « .nuz-u:r>ma .zwsulhumo. ,»’_.lauc.: umuz x»~x spare. a .hrunrunur syn r»_. "an~.. . 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O a) 2'3 uotiequatao flutztwtxem-gtas c>umn 3233 mm: o.H mmm 2. mm 2. am mm. ”mm“ mn.u mmmw H:.H “mod oHoa Mm ~ undax Havoa amo> tom .Hmoouo ououv Hpanoa Hausposopm coasoo mcHHHuH> an :oHHuocoHno mcHuHstaaIHaom .m~ canoe. H.m no.3 om.n mm.n ; HuHmcoa Hausposnpm coaaoo mcHHHmH> n J No mo HIN OIHH Homd :oom Non: H m NH Nm mm HNH ONN H c H o H :o H s. H N. H m.« H N.” H H o H o H Load H moo H No: H mom H o. H H o H o H com H rocu H road H mo3m H o. a H H a H c H N H 3 H J H O H 0H H H o o H a E. H Jo H com H BIN H H o H o H o H no£ H :oN H 3.0 H 0.0 H H a H a H o H L.@ H Mow H m.mm H 4.»: H w a H c H a n H N H H— H WH H H a H N. H N. H c.« H H.H H w.¢ H n.~H H H o H Bonn H moo H OINH H CIHH H cocN H Hoon H H o w o. H no H Vow H «on H NICN H 00mm H H a H H H H m H OH H mm H 00 H H a H a H m. H m. H MIN H :on H com H w a H o H OomN H no: H MomH H HIHH H NICH H a H a H 0.: H co: H MINH H noUN H Mom: H H c H o H n H n H MH H OH H kn H H N. H a H o. H H.~ w a.» H o.m H o.m H w aooaa H o H NIOH H no:N oooN H :omd H NINH H HoH H c H NoN H mooH H onH H coon H noun H H H H c H N H w« H NH H on H 0N H WIIIIIIII IIIIIIII IIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHI a o a. H N.» H can H mom H Oon H H a H a H hood H QIGN H OION H HIQH H 0.0 H H a H a H Nam H cooN H wood H :.:M H :o:~ H w a H o N H cH H NH H HM H NN H H o H c. J. H cow GIN H No0 Hos H H o H 5.00 H Roma H s.&« H OomN H NINN H mohH H w a H NIH W Nod H mow w HIGH H comm w even w a H N N H HH NN H cm a: HIIIIIIII HIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIII HIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIH II I. H O H m H 3 H n H m H H H a H mCde 05m “noon Hapoe Ho uoriaiuatao Butztmrxaw - gtas Self-Maximizing Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Density under the Condition of Low Attraction. Table 300 324 m In H N -& o Q I: O\ CO In (I) O U) (U o o o o o C.) Q ‘ > 2. mm mm m« «In 0‘: Iflm 00 NO H o o M 0 I") O I5 O N o M o H o m N N o : o « 0 NO 3 .p H v-I M H v-I ('3 a? ° "’ B HHI—IHI—IHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHI—I I I I I I I I I I I I I .1 I cacao I coco I «mom I «Nam I coco I cause: I Noam I :0 I I I o 0 0I o 0 ol I I o o O. o' h I I I Nm I mm I I I me I « p I I I N I N I I I m I ".4 I I I I I I I I N m I I I I I I I I cu g: HTHHHHHHHHHTHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I; Q) I , I Q I I I I I I I I In I coco I coca I came I ocean I MQJJ I I093: I scan!) I {In H I I I ooOI I oOoI cool oooIv-Io I I I «co« I I n«« I N«« I «ow-I I 0 E I I I «N I I N I «N I «N I :3 I I I I I I I p I I I I I I I o IMMHhWflMHHhanHhumehwdehw«mdHHWflmHhWfldHMWMuH :3 I I I I I I I I $4 I I I I I I I I O\ .p N INMNO‘IDOOGIWHOIJO‘JQIIhMNMINQNO‘IJd—fm Inc!" (I) I IOOI I 0... Cool oooI oooI oooINoo I no I I NONI NBdI \DdNI m I HISv-II CNO g I m I I «N I «« I N I I «« I « o I I I I I I I I a I I I I I I I HHHHI—IHHHHHHHHHI—IHHHHHHHHHHHHHI—IHHHHI—HHH o I I I I I I I U I I I I I I I I 3 H I NMNO‘ I FICNDU‘ I 60‘0"» I '0on I Ncmd I 0008 I ONON I NON no I cool cool ooIIo-IOOOINOOOI oooI OMI 0. g I mm I o« I NNmI ««wI Nmal NNnI mnI 00 ..~I I M I N I N« I :N I NMv-II I’Ov-I : NH I N 4.: I I I I I I I OH I I I I I I I I m I-II—IHHI-II-IHI-IHHHHHHHHHHHI—IHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH7 «4 I I I I I I > I I I I I I I I ‘n D INMOO‘ I .3ch I sch-o: I manta I 00:30 I wanna I can I can» I 'OOI o OOOIv-IoooIq-IOQOIJOOOHoooIq-Ioo ”Iv-I . n« I on «I mans I «who I NMN cum I omc I H so I I0 I c I J« I :v-I I \DJNI .9« I lbw-I I II‘ I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I H7HHHHTHHHH7HHHHTHHHHTflHHHTHHHHTHHHHT '0 J In 0 N 0 0‘ r; O uonuuauo 3111;2th - nos “,5 0:! BO «8:: 9&8 O m by Visiting Common Structural Density under the lone Self-Maximizing Orientation Condition of High Attract Table 31. 325 m N (I) N m .d’ CJC H 3 U\ m. o n 0 mm o o o o o a 0 ()m H H O H H :>2 '4 om mo ON 3N mo ms «m we a C). O. U' o :0 J. o 0 J. m N « « « a 00 d 016-4 HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH _‘ I I I I I I I I I I I I I I Iglooc‘cwlcoco:«Imam:oaooIcoaoIoooc:ooooIv-IM I 0 I o I I I do I I I I I I I I O I I I I I I I I H I I I I I I I I I I I I I HTHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHI—IHHHHHHHHI—IHHHHHH . . I I I I I I I I k mINCNmIoao oIocooIococIHNnnIooooIoeooIma‘ I OOOI I I I OOOI I 0‘9 >5 I HID I I I I N” I I I '3 +3 I ID I I I I I“) I I I «I : : : : ' ' : : r g HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 0 I I . I I I Q :INoomINaooI«cmnINmooI«NmnIooaoIaeooIon I oooI oooI oooI cool .00. I I o H I «m I Nm I «N I :m I NN I I I N g I N I N I « I N I « I I I 5 I I I I I I I I P I I I I I I I I J 0 HTHHI-II—II-IHHHI-II:HHHHHI—IHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHT a I I I I I I I I j MIHHONIcNmNIHoONImmnoImHJ¢IocooIccaoIom P Iq-IoooIv-IoooIq-dooOI 000' O... I [30‘ m I onI HhmI ONnI we I Ha«l I I ”3 C.‘ I v-IN I N” I «N I I v-Ic-I I I I d- O I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I g HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH o I I I I I I I I NIGMMflIKHJOIdmNNIGmmOIMdeIOODOIOOOOINOF‘ INoooIHooqu-IoooI oooI cool I .IDO. @ I onI okcI @NMI GJNI «c«I I I 53, H I «M I NN I «« I N« I H I I I « 'P I I I I I I I I ,4 I I I I I I I m HvHHHHTHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHH7HHHHTHHHH7 g I I I I I I I Q “IOOOJIOMWBIOKMQIwomNIMOmQIMGQOIdOOMIfimé ImoooIMoooINoooI oOOIq-IoooI cool oooIOO. I mnoI mkcI memI mmHI ¢«MI ON I a IdH: I "‘de MN I Viv-I I VI I NH I I‘ I o I VI I I I I I I I H I I I I I I I I I HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I I I I I I I " oIcwac oNpNIN::mI:momIac¢oInomoIeaoeImNQ, IMOOolv-IOOoIdoOOINooo No.0 .0: Id. I :n«I «mmI «onI :90 35¢ oN Id”: I NMHI Nv-I I Nd I WIN I 3.4 I II‘ I I '5 I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I HTHHHHTHHHH?HHHHTHHHHTHHHHTHHHHTHHHHT I I J II‘ II) In 0 O "outwewo mutation - nos 7: " I. 5 0:3 E40 H80 Gail t) m 326 I . I . . .II I.II . . I . I. I I II II,,I I, I. I III I I II II. III I‘rI .prudxmauc :w»< II”: cache. 9 .» mIraaa: Ira .».e1¢ «aw. a «bu upcvm.I I ,o_ga;:x>m. o ouamzom pzmuzuaua zap< :»_r voamm.I I .Izuarwamc o:m it”. ~cmvn.- I .u_cpmzs»u«. a vucmzom qpnau.u u m. hau~L_uawao r»;_‘»:uu7: 2a». 1»_: nauwm. u .hrumrunwc ora z»_x :« «N. u .a~c»ar_>:<. pru_c_uau1u ,»¢_<»:uu,: . vaNrN. u .u.x»uaz>n. a:r«4 .hzwczuauc 2a». :»~x o¢~c~. u .yzuayunxc uzw TI~; .ccan. u .I.:»mai»w.. «arc; «knee. I pru.o_uauau ruzmcr.»rac union. u > m.~ur4xc coca. u uurm .»u«ucoa «dun» Iosupm coaioo wc«u«u«> 30A no co«»«ucoo have: cofiuoauuu< an co«uuuco«uo uc«u«s«xdeu«om .mm" o«nap 327 .pruuzunu: h?wp£umma Hzmozmmma 2c»« 3»_: onscm. .pzwczuuua ch< 1b.: «ovum. u .pzunrunmr u:m _I_u “wear. a .r-»wII>ue. nsnvo. u *?u_;_uuw.p ,uzm. nanny. « > m- c I uurm. Iru_g.uu .pzuormamc can :».1 ecu)". u .L_c»qz.>u¢. hru_guhk arxuv. o~ nwax no noduuvcoo noun: :Oaaoauuu< hp couuaucoduo manuaaaxdxumaom r m canoe 328 a: no: No“ 3.“ 05‘ 03m “$3 film-mu “...-“4.3 Ti .2”. H.on £383 :m m no Haves doc I “3: :3“me mo. 0.0 H o w H.¢ H c H H.m w m.Ho m HH H H H H H o H H H a H a H a H H w o H m6. H m.~ H no H o H a a H H.H H n.o H r. on. o.m H a H a H H H H.9m H H.om H Y. o H a H a H a H H H c H e H o H o H ~.H H ”.3 H H.m w . H H. H H H n; H T: H H.~H n no o.oH H o H H H H.HH H ~.H: H H.H¢ H HH H H H H H N H H H o H H 7. H o H a H m.H H H.n H H.: H 2 H c H o H m.~H H m.o H H.HH H 1. mm. ”.0 H o H o w 35 H n6» H H6; H m mH H o H H n H m H H H o H o. H H.4 H H.» H o.o H a.m H a . w m.mn H H.on H H.0N H c.on H n.;H H u. :m.H o.H~ o.~ H H.0H H ~.nH H H.~: H H.n~ H u on H H H H H m H 0H H o H m a. H m. H mam H H.” H NJ H HA. H n. H H.Hm H H.H~ H H.c~ H ~.aH H H.mH H o mm.H ¢.HH H m.m H H.3H H o.HH H H.mm H o. N H u mm H H H H H m H HH H H H a H m. H ”.4 H o.m) H m.m H ~.HH H H m.nn H o.cm H m.H~ H H.HH H o.c~ H mH.H H.H~ H H.~ H o.mH H N.H~ H u.H~ H o.o: H a: H H H H H H o H HH H n H 4 H m H n H H H o H menus Hapoe Qmo> 30m hpfimflmfl HMHfiPOSMPm £08300 wCHVHmH> .cuoocoo Havauopmwm 304 mo coapflccoo Hmocs HHHmcmo HMHspozHHm 205500 mcHHHmH> an :oHHchmHHo wcHuHstmsuHHom .mm manna 3259 \H.o/ m.m :.m H.m o.n madmz oxm o.maH H15. 0. m.~ o.oH ¢.HH m.mn .HH Hamouwm no H N m cm H: on 0 dance Hoo H o H o H o. H m. H “on H new H new H w m H a H noMM H Huh H mom H 0.0 H 0.0 H 03.." 0.8 H o H coed H 0.5,— H DocN H coon H coon H ON H a H o H N H N H a H o H o H w w a H o H a H dad H o. H a. H 00H H CH o H a H o H sooH H Mo: H can H mow H 8 MNoH 0.3 H c H o H a H HomN H :omd H domN H moth H T. Md H a H o H a H M H N H n H m H c .& H o H a. H :0 H mod H soN H 0.0 H 1.0 H H o H aoom H hood H Mon H woad H mooN H NoJN H W OOoH NooN H a H mod H @.H H mos H Nona H cocm H mod: H X mm H a H H H H H J H s H ca NN H h v} H o H a H a. H no H 0.” H com H Nos H H} m. .3 H m H w H mm.» W "K. W ”mm“ H "Um H Mum“ H u. w m; w H w H w H H N . H H H HH w «H w o w H. H a H a H ¢.H H :.n H H. H :.H H m. . nooed H a w o H mafia H HoOd H Hem H 00¢ H I. BdoH NoNH Hon H o o H (emu w HoCN H comm H HocN H 8 mm H H H o H c H m m H o H O H w W” H o a H a H Jon M New H moo H Con H 3 H a H a H o w down OoJH H mama H coHH H T. “moH ”emu H a H o H a OooN H Need H m.mn H MoMN H O n: H a H a H c W G w N w NH w ad W J u W a Jo Jo H Hod H can H Gem H 0.5 H H o H ooam H hood H Head H MoHN H moON H coNN H mo.H ~.H~ H H H ¢.H H o.H H ¢.: H :.¢H H H.~: H o.~n H «0 w a W H w H w n H ad W cm W cm w n H o H m H c H n u H H H a H pom was undo: HaHoH Hum Hoo nmo> 30m muHmcoa Hmhsuosuum :08800 wchHmH> pom 30m 9:500 .» .choocoo HdOHHOPmH: :w«: «0 :onoaucoo Hove: huamcoo Huuspozuum coaaoo wcHHHmH> an coHpuucoHuo wcHNHstdsomaom .Hm canoe l Concern. g Orientation by Visiting Common Structural Den- Self-Maximizin sity under Joint Conditions of Low Attraction with Low Historica Table 38. 330 Q to o O\ (\ o o \O “’5 <3 V‘ HI \0 -# In I“ I O O O O O O 0 o o o «I o o o o >ws . HO N0 we ' om ow cm HN No r-I o 0 v4 0 o H o o v-I o In 0 d H M' a v-I a‘ H III e 3

3 I I I mac-I : I I I I . H p I I I a I I I I H I I I a I I I I I m I I I I I I J c: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I I I I .I I K. 8 I I I I I I I I n I coat: I coca I mmko I case I cacao I can: I «Ia-IMO" I no (N- H I I I o O OI I I o o O I o o a I I I New I I I I 0nd I Us In I I I v-«G I I I I I0 I :3 I I I I I I I I P I I I I I I o HHHHHHHHI-IHHHHHHI-IHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I I I I I I a I I I I I I I +3 N I come: I coat: I tho I «hr-30‘ I cacao coat: I can: I m m I I I o 0 CI 0 o O. I I o I I I NIDI" I \DI'OH I I I In :1 I I I '40 I «In I I I I O I I I I I I I I , E I I I I I I I ..J HHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHTHHHHTHHHHTI—HHHTI—HHHI: O I I . U I I I I I I I I HIDOGQIHOMOIWMMQINMmOI8OONIMOOOIddM@IOQ€' g I I oooI ooOI oooI oooI .00I ......Ioo I I OIDv-II HHO‘ I MN” I ON I 90ml O‘IDv-I I 6‘0 «4 I I In I Mn I Mv-I I H‘I’N I Int-I I I M «p I I I I I I I «4 I I I I I I I I a HHHHHHHHHHHI?HHHHHHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I > I I I I I I I I DIwo:w HDJOImmmeMGMQIOGNmIflOMOIOQOD mcCI I 000 cool oooI oooI no. oooI ooozwv‘ I and and I sad I oath I Gas-I com I «was In (~- I c I In I an-I I Inc-I I IDNv-II Inc-I I Iona-I I In I " I I I I I I I HTHHHHHHHHHI-‘IHHHHHHHHHTH"HHI;IHHHHHHHHHI;I I I M 4' I\ I9 Is 0 0‘ w .p . n. 1191118110 tantra“ - nos :4; g H E! 0 ° 8 v 2' a 0&0) 331 1Illlkm.~.r.|...... 56 m6 H6 23m: can o.=oH N.» :.H H.oH o.Hm n.cn Human» :o n N ca on an . Haves H0 H «.N H «.N H n.: H n.m H :.m H . H H.oo H m.o~ H ~.- H H.0H H H.0H H N: H N.o~ H m.:« H m.o« H HonN H n.0N H cos» H OH H N H N H : H w H o H m H o H N.» H «IN H «.N w N.m H on H o H 0.Na H «odd H N.@ n. H a on.« 0.9« H o H 0.9» H oooN H o.eN H coon H 7: ca H o H m H N w N H n H o v» w a w H.H n... H H.~H «...: m . .H o H Moan H N.NN H coo: H 0.0M H #5. comm m a H Non H momd H Noon H Nome w Hm a H H H a H NH H 4H N t. H H.H H a H N.» H m.o H m.m H H nan H o H HéH H Hém H m.nH H n. oo.H H.mH H m.m H a H m.HH H H.H¢ H :.mm H HH H H H H H H H o H m H o .m H a H H... H no: H «.N H n... H O H o H m.:« H N.NN H N.m H «odd w u. wH.H s.«« H o H «.0 H 3.0m H Nona H :.on a «a H o H a H a H N H 3 H m u H a H H. H o H o H N. H .+ H a H o H o H a H n.m H T: 0.0 ~.H H H H H H o H H H .12: H o m H a H a H a H o H n H : u H o H c H How H «on H Hod H H o H a H «.m H m.m H c.N H O.H N.m H o H c H m.mn H ”.mn H m.mm H m H a H o H H H a H H H M H a H H H u H H H o H mammz Havos so amo> m zHHmCmQ HwHSHosupm coseoo mchme> pcsoo .wmx .cumocoo aonHOHmHm swam :HH3 :oHpomep< 30A Ho mcoHHHucoo nova: HHHmcmo HmHzHQSHHm wcHHHmH> Hp cOHHMHcmHuo wcHNHstas-HHmm .am meaH 332 m.- o.H mm. 3; mm.H HN.H mammz Qmo> .cumoCoo HMOHHOHmH: 304 asz :oapoMH . . . . . HHH :wH 0 ago :mQ Hahspozhpm coseoo mzHHHmH> Hp COHHMHCMHWQ wcwawmmm 2L .mr «.3 mn.# HH.# H.:H H.mH H.Hn ~.Hn M o.caH moH N mH HN on :n H a H o H c H m. H m. H H o H a H a H c.N H o.N H o.H H o H o H o H 9.9m H c.9m H N H o H a H u H H H H H H a H a H o.H H c. H c.H H H o H o H m.m H m.» H o.m H 4.0 H c H o H 0.0N H ¢.N: H wocN w H H c H c H N H n H N H o H o H o.H H c.N H H.n H H o H a H mom H m.o H c.HH H M.» H a H o H N.NN H n.mm H 3.3: H m H o H a H N H n H a H H o H 0.: H m.N H H.aH H com H H a H m.Hn H n.4H H m.om H c.c H WHHN H H H H.~N H o.HH H o.H H o.HH H an H a H m H n H HH H n H H o. H H.m H 0.: H v.0 H :.0 H H o.nm H o.mN H o.MN H o.mN H o.oN H o.MN H 0.x H :.mH H N.mH H 0.4» H oooN H @N H H H J H m H o H s H H o. H :.m H M.@ H n.m H ®.mH H H o.om H r.n: H «.m: H o.mN H o.cm H :.om H n.m H m.oH H m.oN H m.oo H m.mm H m: H H H n H c H a H NH H H : H n H N H H H o H HmHoH 30m K33:3 HmpsHosppm coesoo mcHHHmH> aqua: cam pamonm Haves Hoo Hetavauatao Satzrmtxvu - Itas -pom Hoe pom Hoo pom zom pcsoo .H o HCHOh amen: HpHm SIHHmm .0: manna l Concern. 1C8. ting Common Structural Density under tor is isi ion with High H Self-Maximizing Orientation by V Joint Conditions of High Attract Table 41. 333 m U\ N N M C35 0 d 0 0x N (n o o o o o 00) H H .4 :>2 cm on H: :N Na mm Hg mo H U‘. .1. No No No 0 o \C . 33 .3 N? «I : n H H8 In N v-I HI v-I 00 H (IE-4 HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I I I I I I I I ‘1 I I I I I I I I In I DODOI cat-soc: I HQDQI cacao: I GOOD I coon I soon I H I I OOOI I I 0 I I I 3:: I I I I I ' I I I n I I I I I I I I H I I I I I I I I I I I I HHHHHHHHHHHTHHI—IHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHTHHHHT I I I I I I I I K In I .4500 : coca I can: : coco : «mam : coco : coca I N31“: I 0.. 0.. | :a I Hc> I I I I .9: I I I "V‘ P I m I I I I m I I I °H I I I I I I I I w I I I I I I I I g; HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHTHHHHH I I I Q I I I I I I H? I ~4th I coco I cacao I HNMID I Hmm I coca I coco I '0 H I OooI I I 000. O... I I g I Hm I I I :m I :n I I I d I m I I I n I n I I 5 I I I I I I I I P I I I I I I (J HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH g .I I I I I I I I I I I I ‘ +3 MIMNM IamonI:aogINmmNImonoIocooIaeoeI#¢br U) I Cool oOoI oooI oooI 000 I IN" I deI NNmI mmNI caHI naHI I I N4? C I H I N: I HH I I HH I I I H ° : : : : : : ' : g HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I I I I I I I I C) I I I I I I I I NIomomIanHImONoIchOIMomcIoocaIoceoIaN”‘ g I oooI oooI oooI oooI OOOI I IN" I mHmI N::I MNMI anI MaHI I I CM: -H I HM I HN I NH I NH I «H I I I “ -P I I I I I I I I -H I I I I I I I 3: HTHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHHTHHHHH I >' I I I I I I I I dImflHcINdeIOGMOINMJNIwnmmIdBNOIHONOIQFN“ INoooIv-IoooI cool oooI ooOI oooI oOoIIh" I nn:I NoaI ooMI anI NamI MH I aH I 3' I :JdI :NHI NH I I NH I n I o z I I I I I I I vI I I I I I I I I HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH VHO I I I I I I I ' ’ c: I owomN I Isthhv-I ImcHa I mow-I I GJIDN I NIHDN I caoe I In“ 4? Iq-Iooo coo oooIq-Iooo: 000 0.. Ilhn I N:H fiNJ MOMI owe och onH I I Mme-II v-Iv-I I N I MN I Md I I9 I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I HHHHHHTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTHHHH7HHHHHHHHHT M c m w s o O I: m nonnuauo 91:12:“:an - was .345 5 80% Hfio 00: Uflun Person and Other Exchange Visits Table #2. 334 Key: Count ATTRACTION Row Pct Col Pct Low High 135 166 NO “409 55.1 62.2 #8.0 82 180 Yes 31.3 68.7 37.8 52.0 217 346 38.5 61.5 100% 100% 301 100% 53.5 262 100% 46.5 563 100% 100% The Exchange of Visits by Attraction. APPENDIX G FOOTNOTES FOR TEXT FOOTNOTES FOR TEXT 1Currently, Knut Hansen is collecting exchange net- work data in a fishing village located on the coast of Denmark. When Knut is finished with his fieldwork, and these data are processed, there will be an Opportunity to assess the general character of these findings. 2Commercial potato farming began in 1900 and cabbage farming in 1910. See Figure 21 on page 188 and Figure 22 on page 193 for illustrations of the distribution networks of potato and cabbage farmers. 3Corduroy roads consisted of logs laid parallel and next to one another at an angle perpendicular to the direc- tion of the road. They were laid something like railroad ties, but were round and Spaced against one another. 4As early as 1157 King Eric IX of Sweden led a crusade to Finland, conquered the pagan tribes and intro- duced Christianity. Many Swedes settled along the western and southern coasts of Finland and a diffusion of Swedish civilization resulted in the areas of heavy immigration. In 1528 King Gustavus I introduced the reformation upon Finland and in 1556 John III made it a grand duchy. Sweden ruled Finland until 1809 when King Gustavus IV was compelled to cede Finland to Russia. Thus, for about 650 years Sweden ruled Finland. Swedish government officials collected taxes from the Finns, and passed edicts proclaiming Swedish the official language to be used in all governmental proceedings, thereby excluding for many years all Finns from participating in their own nation's political structure. One can well imagine the resentment and hatred that would develop over the many years of economic and cultural imperialism. The Swedish ruling class believed themselves superior to the Finns, and the Finns reacted with hatred and jealousy. 5Michigan Statistical Abstract, 10th ed. (Division of Research, Graduate School of Business Administration, Michigan State University, 1974), p. 359. 335 336 6Norman Moline, "Finnish Settlement in Upper Idichigan) (unpublished M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1966). 7Michigan Statistical Abstract, p. 360. 8Ibid., pp. 329131, 91bid., p. 332. lOIbid., p. 41. llIbid., p. 229. lzIbid., p. 197. 13Ibid., p. 60. 14Data collected by author in 1973. 15Michigan Statistical Abstract, p. 60. Finn River data were collected by the author in 1973. 16Ibid., p. 40. 17The attractiveness of the cultural setting for bachelor males is again reflected in a comparison between the number of only child sons and daughters. (Only child does not mean the only child in the family, but the only one who has remained at home with the parents.) Eight of the males in this category are young adults, and only three of the daughters are young adults. Adult males are more likely to stay in the Finn River area and try to "make a go of it" than adult females. Although this trend is present in all rural areas, it seems especially prominent in Finn River, given the sex ratio, historical circumstances and their cultural consequences. 18Michigan Statistical Abstract, p. 177. 19According to the 1970 Census, 25.2% of the families in Baraga County live beneath the official poverty level. The low median family income is affected by the high propor- tion of retirees. APPENDIX H FOOTNOTES FOR APPENDIX FOOTNOTES 1Scholars who use the self—maximization model can always find a way to make almost everything look like self— maximizing exchange. But there is something fundamentally wrong with the way Homans and Blau can always salvage a self-maximizing model of exchange. For instance, the good of others enters into exchange calculations, but Homans and Blau twist this around to claim that it enters in terms of egoistic gratification. Persons, they would say, are interested in the good of others because "sooner or later" they will gain from it, and if they are not, they will "sooner or later" suffer deprivation. Homans and Blau claim that other-oriented exchange is really only a way to maximize one's own benefits in the long run. But that does not fit very well with our understanding of the many situa- tions of exchange behavior in which persons are actually interested in the welfare of others without'at that point in_time thinking about or expecting gain for themselves. It may very well be the case that if scholars insist on upholding the self-maximization model, there are always semantically plausible ways of doing it; one can always postulate a self-serving utility to be realized at some future time, and it is operationally difficult to dis“ tinguish between those situations when someone is interested in the welfare of others for self—serving purposes, and when he is interested as an end in itself. By insisting upon the universal validity of the self-maximization hypothesis, we are going to overlook something that we should ask questions about. It would appear to be a much more fruitful approach to accept the fact that sometimes peOple are self-maximizing, and in other situations they are interested in the welfare of others, so that we can analyze precisely when and where this occurs. 2I shall use the convention of capitalizing Person and Other when speaking abstractly of a diadic exchange process. The distinction parallels the ego and alters Freudian concepts. The terms include no hidden assumptions 337 338 about personality structures, but do assume that sociological 'theories can progress through.P-centric formulations as the vwork on balance theories has demonstrated. Throughout this artudy I have tried to be sensitive to how transactors perceive the exchange process. 3Given the community setting and the fieldworker's .relationship it was not possible to directly ask Person to rate close friends and relatives according to how "selfish" or "greedy" they are in exchanges. The term "good-hearted" is used by Finn River residents to refer to Others emphasiz- ing giving and down-playing receiving in their day-to-day exchanges. See Appendix E, for a detailed description of the operationalization procedure. In this study it is assumed that Person's judgements of Other are accurate and they are treated as Other's actual exchange tendencies. In most cases Person has known Other for many years. Finn River residents are good folk sociologists because they spend a great deal of time simply talking to one another. The pace of life is slower than in most urban settings and Finn River residents actually make time in their schedules for relating to peOple. 41 am assuming that Person's assessments of the extent to which Other keeps track of exchanges is accurate. See Appendix E for a detailed description of the measurement procedures. 5The ideal type of a folk society has been defined as "a small community containing no more people in it than can know each other well" (Redfield, 1953). The assumption has been that everyone knows everyone else in small rural communities. Urban sociologists have bemoaned the loss of the familiar, well-integrated personal community and con- fused the spatial separateness and specificity of urban social ties with their absence (see Wirth, 1938; Nisbet, 1953; Stein, 1960). The information exchange sphere is activated in behavior Finn River residents call "visiting." Visiting can be considered to be a separate exchange sphere because there are rules unique to this domain, and a visit can only be exchanged for another visit. Visiting is done according to a quid-pro-quo transaction logic. People feel they ought to visit one of their friends because they were visited last by them. If they wait too long, the other party will wonder if they are sick and will check to see, or they may suspect that "something has come between us." Such a compulsion to return visits within a certain period of time has important social structural consequences. Each family or person is imbedded with a visiting network 339 twith a limited set of others. If they try to eXpand their ‘visiting network to include a new family or person this ‘flill put a strain on the time sequence pattern of their established visiting contacts. In Finn River peOple are ‘welded into a visiting network that they have been parti‘ oipating in for many years. It is not uncommon to find 'visiting patterns so regularized that on a certain time, on a certain day, a family will expect a particular person(s) to drop in. Kinsmen appear to dominate the visiting network if they are within reasonable driving distance. The visiting process is very ritualized in this community. It begins when a married couple (or a person) decides that it is time to pay a visit to someone. If they have been visiting these peOple for a considerable length of time, they will know their daily schedules, and will simply drop in without calling or waiting to be invited. If the others are not within the center of their visiting network, but on the periphery, they will call and ask "What are you doing tonight?" This is a well—known marker mean- ing: "We would like to visit you tonight, if it's alright with you." Or they will tell them of their plans. If the parties are highly regular visitors, they will even expect to be visited by these persons, and will have arranged their living schedule to accomodate them. The second phase of married couple visits is the entrance into the home of the visitees. The people will stop right in the doorway and will converse standing up with their coats still on. At this stage, both the men and the women will talk to each other. If they are older people (over 40) they will usually speak the Finnish language. They will shift to English if someone is present who does not speak Finnish, but the initial greetings are usually in Finnish. After this preliminary conversation, coats are hung up on hooks next to the door. Then the sexual segregation stage will begin. The men will direct conversation to each other and the women will do the same. The men will go to the living room, the basement, or if the weather permits, they will walk around the yard, or sit on benches in the garage or workshop. Women sit around the kitchen table and talk, often gossiping; and the men do likewise, with most of their conversation focusing upon hunting, fishing and their work projects. The usual sequence of conversation begins with reporting events that have happened to each person since the last time they saw each other. This includes work, recreation, and visits by other people. Then the conver- sation will shift to the persons' plans for the near future, including both work projects and recreation. This often is I... l I!“ 340 used to distribute need information. The women will talk alnout baking and cleaning projects, and the men will discuss alrtomechanics, farm tasks, and repairing activities. Sexually segregated conversation will continue for one to invo hours. The sexual organization of visiting will terminate \dhen the hostess calls the men into the kitchen for coffee, leaked rolls, and cake. The women take a great deal of xpride in their baking, and compliments are expected from ‘their guests. During the coffee—baked goods consumption ritual the sexual limits to conversatiOn usually break down. One person will usually speak while the rest listen, and wait their turn. Often the exchange of information will shift back momentarily to the single-sex channels with two sexually segregated conversations going on at the same time, but it usually seems to return to the bisexual flow pattern. The relatively open exchange of information continues at the kitchen table until the coffee ceremony terminates. Then the men will return to their quarters, and women will clean the table and wash the dishes. The men and women will chat separately for a while. When it is time to leave, the man usually announces "We should be going now." All of the people will meet at the doorway and chat briefly while the visitors put on their coats. The entire length of the visit will range from one-and-a-half to three hours, not counting preparation and traveling time. One of the important characteristics of the visiting exchange sphere is the wide range of information communi— cated between the transactors. The participants report their recent histories, current activities, and future plans, and do the same for all the persons they mutually know. Visiting provides the people with the opportunity to distri- bute and assimilate information pertaining to the exchange behavior of the other people in the community. An important social feature of this information transmission is the implications for social control. They are making each other aware of who is conforming to or violating the exchange norms. 7Psychologists researching in the field of human learning have attributed the failure of memory to interference processes. It is accepted by virtually all psychologists studying memory phenomena that interference is caused both by the variety and frequency of stimuli at levels surpassing the information processing capacity of humans. (For a review of the literature concerning this issue see Saltz, 1971: Chapter 1) 341 A more detailed examination of the data using as (control variables specific types and combinations of social roles will be done in the future. A computer program now almost completed will compare IPerson and Other's questionnaires to match.their perceptions <3f the state of the exchange record and to tabulate exchange lnemory errors. For instance, if Person mentioned in the exchange network survey that he helped Other fix his auto— mmbile, Other may very well have forgotten this transaction and failed to mention it on his questionnaire. The program ‘would detect this error of omission and the particular exchange flow direction in which it occurred. The ratio of the number of forgotten transactions to the actual numbercf transactions would serve as an indicator of historical con- cern. The assumption is that those who are more concerned with remembering the exchange record will make less errors. By using this indicator of historical concern, I will have access to a larger sample of data: all the respondents (240) in the exchange network who mentioned one another. This proqram also has an editing sub-routine designed to correct for memory errors by instructing the computer to rewrite a respondent's questionnaire to include the forgotten transaction. 9These data appear as if Person has a preference for transacting with Others who are prone to give far more than they expect to receive. This may be the result of several factors mixed in with the data as it appears in Table 16. If Person pays Other money for helping him it does not appear in the Other's Receiving Frequency row. The occur- rence and extent of monetary reciprocation was indicated in the exchange network questionnaire, and in the near future I shall attempt to develop an operational definition of a balanced account. Two hypothetical help situations appear in the "giving" direction but not in the "receiving" direc- tion because there was no way to ask a person, "who would you help in an emergency situation if the occasion should arise?" They would help whoever needed help. These data fail to take into consideration the value or magnitude of any transaction but simply reveal the frequency with which Other appears in either exchange flow direction according to Person's questionnaire. But there is a phenomenal basis for the skewed responses. There is in this community a genuine norm of social responsibility (Berkowitz, 1969) where people believe one ought to help persons needing help simply because it is morally right to do so. This is the major reason behind the researcher's success in collecting the exchange network data. Person is expected to downplay the number of times he helps Other and to express gratitude for the help he receives. By so doing, Person demonstrates that he (she) 342 is giving to Others because it is morally right to do so, and not because he (she) expects something in return. Braggarts emphasizing how much they have done for Others lose prestige in the community. One is supposed to give but not to draw attention to his acts. After hearing Other express gratitude for receiving Person's help (or whatever) Person will say, "It was nothing," "It does not deserve to be men- tioned," or "forget it." Given this normative expectation,respondents may very well have felt normatively constrained to mention the occasions where they have received (Other has given) but to modestly avoid mentioning when they have given (Other has received). It is my belief that people in this com- munity actually tend to forget those situations where they have given. That is, they have internalized the norm and act it out not because they decide it is the best way to appear, but because they genuinely behave this way. 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