As the venues for professional training and education, universities have always shaped the future of the archaeological discipline—for better but also, in important ways, for worse. Historically, university structures promoted practitioner homogeneity and social inequity and, at the largest research-intensive universities, even managed to turn “service” into a dirty word. However, using the same structures that perpetuated damaging practices in the past, universities can just as readily transform archaeology into the inclusive, community-engaged discipline it should always have been—while serving communities in ways that matter to them. This article explains and illustrates how and why we have tried to do this through the founding and operation of the Oklahoma Public Archaeology Network (OKPAN) at the University of Oklahoma. OKPAN seeks to improve relationships among diverse Oklahoma communities by framing archaeology as a tool that that can serve communities’ interests while creating pathways within universities for members of historically excluded groups to join and help further transform the discipline.

This introductory article foregrounds the articles in this special issue, “Professional–Collector Collaboration: Global Challenges and Solutions,” complementing the special issue “Professional–Collector Collaboration Moving beyond Debate to Best Practice,” also published in Advances in Archaeological Practice. The articles that we introduce here cover examples and case studies from European settings such as Norway, the Czech Republic, England, Wales, Finland, and Belgium—places that have been exploring how to respond to the challenge of working meaningfully with collectors and finders of archaeological artifacts, especially metal detectorists. These are joined by examples from Australia, Mexico, Uruguay, and even the United States, in the context of handling—at first glance—problematic collections originating from elsewhere. The articles are diverse in their settings and the challenges they describe, but they point to the need for participatory and democratic approaches to archaeological heritage and the different publics that engage with it.

This article introduces the first of what will ultimately be two collections of case studies in archaeologist–responsible/responsive artifact collector collaboration. Focused on the United States, the articles in this issue of Advances in Archaeological Practice share the thoughts and experiences of archaeologists representing diverse employment sectors (compliance, agency, museum, and university), artifact collectors, and members of descendant communities. Research areas extend from California to Virginia and from Ohio to the Texas/Mexico border. The breadth of the writers' backgrounds and their focal regions reinforce the wide applicability of collaborative best practices. Every author explicitly treats two subjects: (1) the intersection of their work with the Society for American Archaeology's (SAA) recently published guidelines for ethical professional–collector collaboration, and (2) their own practical suggestions for establishing and nurturing those relationships. This introductory article provides an overview of each of the other contributions, notes how the contributions articulate with the SAA guidelines, and offers its own, mostly philosophical suggestions for prospective members of professional–collector collaborations.

Since the emergence of the niche in Folsom, New Mexico, in the late 1920s, peopling archaeology has sought to understand the earliest human occupants of the Western Hemisphere. Three generations of practitioners have made great strides in the techno-environmental arena. However, we have largely failed to tap into PaleoIndigenous intellectual, emotional, and social lives—the very domains that made Ice Age people as fully human as we are. As a result, our interpretations of those pioneering populations could often apply as readily to a colony of ants or a herd of wildebeest as they do to living, breathing, thinking, dreaming, loving, striving human ancestors. This article first explores the reasons for our failure to fully actualize First Peoples, identifying and implicating a feedback loop that includes practitioner homogeneity (we have always been and continue to be disproportionately white men of European descent); our predominantly positivist worldview; our language, training, and practice; and even the limited nature of the material record we study. This article also, however, highlights the ways that an important minority of peopling scholars have sought to access the humanity of PaleoIndigenous people. By more consistently mobilizing our own human capacity to creatively interrogate the deep past, we will produce scholarship that more consistently recognizes the capacity of the people who lived it and, just as importantly, respects those living today.

Archaeology and private artefact collecting have complex and inextricably linked histories. Archaeologists have long drawn attention to criminal activity among collectors, but to assume that all private owners of cultural material—and any archaeologists who interact with them—have ill-intent or engage in illegal behaviour can cause as much harm to the archaeological record as the criminal actions themselves.

Forty years ago, Knut Fladmark (1979) argued that the Pacific Coast offered a viable alternative to the ice-free corridor model for the initial peopling of the Americas—one of the first to support a “coastal migration theory” that remained marginal for decades. Today, the pre-Clovis occupation at the Monte Verde site is widely accepted, several other pre-Clovis sites are well documented, investigations of terminal Pleistocene subaerial and submerged Pacific Coast landscapes have increased, and multiple lines of evidence are helping decode the nature of early human dispersals into the Americas. Misconceptions remain, however, about the state of knowledge, productivity, and deglaciation chronology of Pleistocene coastlines and possible technological connections around the Pacific Rim. We review current evidence for several significant clusters of early Pacific Coast archaeological sites in North and South America that include sites as old or older than Clovis. We argue that stemmed points, foliate points, and crescents (lunates) found around the Pacific Rim may corroborate genomic studies that support an early Pacific Coast dispersal route into the Americas. Still, much remains to be learned about the Pleistocene colonization of the Americas, and multiple working hypotheses are warranted.

In a recent American Antiquity forum (Pitblado 2014), I argued that not only is it possible for archaeologists to engage in ethical collaborations with members of the artifact-collecting public, but that the Society for American Archaeology’s “Principles of Archaeological Ethics” stipulates that we should do so. This is not a message, however, that has fully permeated the archaeological community, which has led to a schism between populations who are often natural allies. This paper starts with that premise: that archaeologists should actively pursue collaborations with the artifact-collecting community with the goal of advancing research agendas, public education, and long-term care of collections in private hands. The paper offers guidelines for establishing and nurturing professional-collector relationships in a way that furthers the directives of legal and ethical archaeological codes. I begin with an overview of the changing nature of professional-collector relationships during the twentieth century, exploring reasons for the divisiveness that has characterized recent decades. I next suggest five steps for establishing appropriate relationships with artifact collectors—and avoiding inappropriate ones. Finally, I describe how I followed those steps to establish a network of collector-collaborators to build the foundation for a Paleoamerican research program in southeastern Idaho and northern Utah.

After the anonymous 2011 return of a long-missing Pilling Fremont figurine, a multi-disciplinary research team conducted “fingerprint” analyses in an effort to match it to 10 mates with intact provenance. The Pilling figurines, crafted 1,000 years ago and cached in a remote sandstone niche in eastern Utah, are the most significant find of Fremont portable art ever documented because they occurred in situ and are unparalleled in detail and completeness. Most of the other 400-plus known Fremont figurines derive from secondary contexts, limiting inferences archaeologists might otherwise draw in domains ranging from Fremont exchange to inter- and intra-cultural ideology. Basketry-imprint analysis, scanning electron microscopy, and portable X-ray fluorescence suggest that the returned specimen is the original Pilling. After a 40-year absence, it is now permanently curated with the rest of the collection at the Prehistoric Museum, USU Eastern, in Price, Utah, and can contribute to research of a rare artifact class. The techniques reported can also be applied to finds of fragmentary Fremont figurines in secondary contexts to assess relationships among specimens and sites. Most broadly, the successful application of nondestructive pXRF may inspire confidence in scientists studying rare and delicate specimens traditionally profiled using destructive methods such as INAA.

This essay addresses the contentious issue of collaboration between archaeologists and artifact collectors. I argue that in many instances, alienating members of the collecting public is not just bad practice; such alienation itself also violates the Society for American Archaeology's (SAA's) Principles of Archaeological Ethics. I make my case by first exploring the SAA's ethical code. I focus initially on “stewardship” and “commercialization,” which many cite as reasons for rejecting relationships with artifact collectors. I then discuss other SAA principles that support the perspective that archaeologists should actively reach out to citizens with private collections whenever possible. Second, I present a case study exploring what the Clovis archaeological record might look like had archaeologists rejected the overtures of a century of collectors who brought Pleistocene finds to the attention of professionals. Had practitioners accepted only those Clovis sites free of collector involvement, our understanding of Clovis lifeways would be quite different from what it is today. This essay has two messages. First, collectors can advance, and have advanced, archaeology by reaching out to archaeologists willing to reach back. Second, our own code of ethics suggests that responsibly engaging artifact collectors is not just “okay,” it is its own ethical imperative.