“Only liars and damn fools say they like the jungle.” Anonymous Yucatan Explorer
While I sat in our little bookstore Alma Libre Libros in
Puerto Morelos, Mexico, in those early years when there was barely a tourist to
be found, I had plenty of time to read about the Maya civilization and the
explorers who stumbled onto their majestic pyramids. We sat within 100 miles of four major Maya sites, and I had become addicted to the Maya. I began compiling notes on
the early explorers and their adventures, and at the time thought I’d write a book called Explorers of the Yucatan,
but that idea was shelved. Now, finding those notes I realize how much I
enjoyed the adventure of reading about their adventures. So this is Part One of
that series. I’m beginning with my favorite explorer, Sylvanus Morley.
Since 1839 adventurers, explorers and archeologists have attempted to unveil the
mystery of the Maya and their pyramids.
Although each of these mavericks deserves a stellae in the Maya hall of
fame, rising to the top like Venus on a new moon is Sylvanus Griswold Morley.
Rumored
to be Spielberg and Lucas’ inspiration for unforgettable archeologist Indiana
Jones, Morley worked nearly three decades deciphering Maya glyphs and
excavating ruins in Mexico, Honduras and Guatemala. He was born June, 1883, in Baldwinville, Massachusetts.
SANTA FE
Morley
began his studies in civil engineering and then attended Harvard where he
developed an interest in archeology. Harvard’s Peabody Museum had recently
received Edward H. Thompson’s treasure trove of artifacts after he famously
dredged the sacred well at Chichén Itzá in 1904. This ignited Morley’s interest
in ancient civilizations.
His
degree along with his involvement in antiquities first took him to Santa Fe, New
Mexico, where he cut his teeth on researching and exploring Native American cultures.
Morley’s influence in Santa Fe was so great that later on, he and a group of
his contemporaries, including Georgia O’Keefe, would define what has come to be
known as the “Santa Fe” style of architecture.
Between
1909 and 1914 Morley did field work in Central America and Mexico for the
School of American Archeology.
During this period his early archeological expeditions were used as a
cover for espionage activities for U.S. Naval Intelligence during World War I. According to one source, although his
wartime activities have been largely forgotten, he laid the groundwork for
modern U.S. intelligence efforts.
After
the war, Morley became a research associate for the Carnegie Institution where
he applied for the position to head up explorations in Southern Mexico,
Guatemala and Honduras. In 1915,
he presented a proposal for funding a restoration project at Chichén Itzá.
RESTORATION
Morley’s
proposal was a 20-year plan to restore Chichén Itzá, now one of the New Seven
Wonders of the Modern World, to its former grandeur and to invite tourists to
become a part of that mix. He chose Chichén Itzá because it was close to Merida
and easy to reach, thanks to progressive governor Felipe Carrillo Puerto’s
efforts at building a new road that connected Merida with the soon to be famous
site.
Before
Morley’s excavation, Chichén Itzá was merely clumps of grassy mounds as was
common with all Maya sites in the early days of exploration. Morley would labor
at excavation there for 18 years, until 1940. Shortly after his work was complete, he published The Ancient Maya in 1946, the first
comprehensive account of the Maya civilization.
NO GLAMOUR
The
rain forest held no glamour for Morley, nor did spending the night in a
flea-infested palapa, eating canned goods, fighting insects, fearing snakes,
taking water from a filthy water bag, nor running the risk of contracting
serious tropical infections. Nicknamed the little hummingbird by Native
Americans on one of his first expeditions to the southwest, Morley always
dressed the part of the archeologist, looking more like Bill Gates than
Harrison Ford, complete with pith helmet.
He
said he hated the jungle because he dearly enjoyed the comforts of
civilization. But even the ill health that plagued him over the years in no way
diminished his enthusiasm for advancing the knowledge of the Maya. His
biography by Robert Brunhouse details how, at every turn, his good health was
sabotaged by numerous illnesses. Seasickness seized him on entering a boat; he
contracted malaria in the early years of his explorations, threw it off for
several decades, only to contract it again. He suffered from colitis in 1924
and was continuously in and out of hospitals for tests.
The
following year amoebic dysentery forced him to leave Chichén Itzá and spend
weeks in a New Orleans hospital. On returning to the site, he felt his energy
was too great for his emaciated 109-pound body and was quoted as saying he had
a Rolls Royce engine in a Ford Motor body.
MAYA TIES THAT BIND
After he had established himself at
Chichén Itzá, Maya leaders asked him to help convince Queen Victoria to form an
alliance with the Maya to drive the Mexicans out of Yucatán once and for
all. (This was before the final
truce had been signed for the Caste War of Yucatán which lasted nearly one
hundred years). After explaining that Queen Victoria was long dead, he became
the unofficial spokesman for the Yucatec Maya from 1923 until his death in
1948.
Inauguration
of the Chichén Itzá project was his greatest contribution to Mesoamerica
archeology. Financed fully by the Carnegie Institution, he continued hard at it
until 1940. In the 1930s he discovered he had heart trouble but continued to
travel, now by plane rather than mule or boat. His overall emphasis soon
expanded into a vast multi-disciplinary study of the entire Maya area. At Chichén Itzá, his work opened a new
chapter in the history of archeology. On completion of the project in 1940,
when he departed, he said he would never return and he never did. But his love
affair with the Maya culture lasted a lifetime.
He
was scholar, explorer, informal diplomat, secret agent, planner, author and
educator. His explorations and
excavations put the Maya and Chichén Itzá on the map.
