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Persistence of Collective Agriculture since German Re-unification by Ingolf Vogeler
for the annual meeting of the Association of American Geographers
in Charlotte, NC on April 12, 1996
Abstract

Since German re-unification in 1990, eastern German agriculture and landscapes have been dramatically transformed. The German government forcibly privatized 4,530 cooperative and 580 state farms, resulting in 15,083 individual, 1,844 incorporated, and 3,170 corporate farms. Enormous human and land use consequences followed: few rural workers are still employed (35 percent); crop and livestock production decreased (33 to 60 percent); and land fallow increased (8 percent).
Despite major property and financial obstacles, collective forms of agriculture still persist.

U.S. Religious Regions, 1990, by Ingolf Vogeler
for the annual meeting of the Association of American Geographers
in Chicago, IL on March 14, 1995
Abstract

The latest (1990) data for U.S. churches and church memberships by counties were examined for

These results are compared with Shortridge's study based on a similar 1971 denominational survey. Religious concentrations vary regionally dependening on which variables are related. Membership as a percentage of population shows high concentrations in the South and Great Plains, with cores in the Texas-Oklahoma border area and the Deep South.

Regional concentrations of specific denominations continue to persist, e.g. Mormons in the arid West and Uniterians in eastern Massachusets. The aggregation of afflicated denominations produces some of the most striking patterns. Adherents of the twenty-five Baptist are essentially concentrated in the traditional South and adherents of the twelve Lutheran churches are only found in the northern Midwest. The liberal Protestant denominations have persisted in northern half of the United States but have expanded northward in the Great Plains and retreated from the Pacific Northwest. The United Started is polarized and highly regionalized along religious ideological lines.

Religious diversity was calculated by adding up all the denominations that had at least one adherent in a county. From 30 to 80 different denominations, or 20 to 54 percent of all U.S. religious groups, are found in metropolitan areas, regardless of region.

Cold War Geopolitics: Embassy Locations by Ingolf Vogeler
in the Journal of Geography, Vol. 94, No. 1 (Jan/Feb 1995), pp. 320-326
Abstract

The geopolitics of the Cold War is illustrated by the diplomatic ties between countries, particularly the two superpowers and their respective allies. Specifically, the location of embassies abroad and those hosted by countries are examined to determine what they reflect about larger geopolitical issues.

This article grew out of class projects used in introductory human geography courses to teach place name, library, writing, analytical, computer, and cartographic skills. The global patterns of embassy locations for all countries are first examined and then the particular patterns of the United States, the SovietUnion, and NATO and Warsaw Pact countries. A comparison between the location of U.S. and Soviet embassies shows that the Cold War was geographically visible only for "minor" states. TheWarsaw Pact countries were ideologically more unified in the location of their embassies than the NATO countries. With the collapse of Cold War geopolitics, embassy locations are already changing, signaling major transformations to a New World Order. Geographers will need to monitor these newly emerging patterns and teach their students how to examine them.

U. S. Embassy Locations: Global Expansion Since 1779 by Ingolf Vogeler
presented at the International Geographical Congress
in Washington, D.C. on August 13, 1992

Nations locate embassies in other countries to establish diplomatic ties for political, economic, and cultural reasons. Because the appointment of ambassadors and their support staffs and the establishment of embassies are expensive and symbolic of national policies and values, where and when countries establish embassies reflect critical foreign policy interests. In the United States, ambassadors and their staffs have four basic responsibilities:

On a routine basis, embassy and consulate staffs deal with such specific issues as mutual defense, fishing and shipping rights, visas, trade, tariffs, and foreign aid. U.S. embassies also provide commercial information on labor, trade, and investments to U.S. companies as well as advice on how to work with local lawyers, elected representatives, and government agencies (Herz, 1981). The United States, more than any other county, tends to use economic relations to advance its political or security aims. Herz (1981) argues that there is nothing sinister about this because trade or loans can and should be means for achieving other national objectives. The location of U.S. embassies is, therefore, an important indicator of its ideological orientation and international power relations (O'Sullivan, 1986). U.S. policy makers and corporations have used different ways of exerting influence and control over people and places. International economic relations, military actions, and foreign aid have received considerable attention in the past, but the geopolitics of U.S. embassies has been ignored.

This paper discusses various historical and contemporary aspects of the spatial patterns of U.S. embassies:

The earliest U.S. embassies were established from 1779-1799 in Western Europe and Russia (U.S. Department of State, 1988). By 1848 embassies had been established in almost all Latin American, the remaining European, and a few key West Asian countries. The rest of West Asia and East Asia received embassies during 1849-1879. As African nations became independent during the 1950s and 1960s, U.S. embassies were also established there. U.S. embassies were closed in countries during wars, when "hostile" governments occupied nations, and during civil unrest. The United States has had the longest break in diplomatic relations with (North) Korea, Germany, and Russia/U.S.S.R.. The longevity of U.S. embassies around the world shows a striking core-periphery pattern. The core countries have had embassies for over 150 years, whereas parts of the periphery have had less than 30 years of U.S. diplomatic contact.

The current distribution of U.S. embassies is similar to past patterns. Most countries had from 9 to 15 diplomatic posts. Worldwide as of 14 May 1990, the United States had 145 embassies, one branch office of an embassy, 11 missions, one U.S. interests section, 71 consulate generals, 26 consulates, and one U.S. liaison office (U.S. Department of State, 1990). The number of embassy and consulate staffs by countries was much more localized than the distribution of embassy posts alone. Only five countries had U.S. embassies with more than 39 staff members: Canada, Mexico, Brazil, (West) Germany, and China. Although not all diplomatic posts had every type of staff, they included the following: ambassador, minister, or charge d'affaires; deputy chief of mission, commercial officer (assists U.S. business), economic officer, financial attaché, political officer, labor officer, consular officer, administrative officer, regional security officer, scientific attaché, agricultural officer, AID mission director, and public affairs officer. Interestingly, the number of foreign diplomats in the United States showed a somewhat different pattern (Diplomatic List, 1990). Canada, the United Kingdom, (West) Germany, Saudi Arabia, the U.S.S.R., China, and Japan were the dominant ones with more than 74 diplomatic staff members each. The larger the diplomatic staff and the grander the embassy and ambassador's residence, the more important foreign relations are with the United States.

The map of embassies hosted by the United States and of U.S. embassies abroad shows that the United States is one of only a few countries that established embassies only with countries that also establish embassies in the United States (The Europa Year Book 1988: A World Survey, 1988). Furthermore, the United States lacked diplomatic relations with only a few territorially-small, militarily-weak, but ideologically "unacceptable" countries: Cuba, Libya, Angola, Iraq, (South) Yemen, Mongolia, Vietnam, Laos, and (North) Korea. Despite the Cold War, the U.S. government has never been really consistent in the application of its anti-Communist rhetoric. When the location of U.S. and Soviet embassies are combined on one map, the Cold War is geographically only visible in the realm of "minor" states--each superpower having its exclusive favorite "enemies" and "friends." These patterns are strikingly different from embassy locations for Sweden, West Germany, France, and even the United Kingdom. With the breakup of the former Warsaw Pact and the former Soviet Union and the political changes in Eastern Europe, the Cold War is over; but, if past patterns of embassy locations are any indication, U.S. embassy locations, and the foreign policy that they express, will probably continue to reflect its strongly-held, conservative, nationalist ideology. The State Department has already announced that the United States will recognize all fifteen former republics of the U.S.S.R. but will only establish embassies in eight!

References
Diplomatic List, 1990. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office.
Herz, Martin F. (ed.), 1981. The Role of Embassies in Promoting Business. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America. Hunt, Michael H. 1987. Ideology and U.S. Foreign Policy. New Haven: Yale University Press.
O'Sullivan, Patrick, 1986. Geopolitics. New York: St. Martin's Press.
Terrell, John Upton, 1964. The United States Department of State. New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce.
The Europa Year Book 1988: A World Survey. 1988. London Europa Publications.
U.S. Department of State, 1988. Principle Officers of the Department of State and the United States Chiefs of Mission, 1778-1988. Washington, D.C.: Office of the Historian, Publication 9649. U.S. Department of State, 1990.
Key Officers of Foreign Service Posts: Guide for Business Representatives. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office. Publication 7877.

Character of Place: Building Materials and Architectural Characteristics in Eau Claire, Wisconsin by Ingolf Vogeler
in the Material Culture, Vol. 21, No.3 (Fall 1989) , pp. 1-21
[Figures and Tables are NOT included.]

Geographers have had a long standing special interest in the built environment focused on its most common structural form, housing. In contrast to the approach taken by most architects and art historians, geographers study all houses rather than just those of master builders or architects and the high styles of the elite. Indeed, ordinary or vernacular buildings, regardless of style or age, allow geographers to understand cultural landscapes and the character of places, hence the considerable attention to vernacular or common landscapes (Stilgoe; Upton and Vlach).

The study of house styles, whether by geographers, art historians, or architects, has been largely impressionistic and individualistic. Experts have relied on rather causal interpretations of only a few examples for a particular style and/or historical period to study the enormous number of housing units, variety of building materials and architectural details, and the diversity of styles and sub-styles. A few dominant approaches have resulted: "windshield-style" field guides (Rickert; Pillsbury and Kardos; McAlester and McAlester) and interpretive essays (Gowans; Clark; Foley). These approaches provide a good overall impression about styles, usually relatively "pure" versions, but are unable to indicate the relative importance, measured by frequency, of the distinctive building materials and architectural details of each style or subtype. Virginia and Lee McAlester's book is such an example. It provides numerous excellent diagrammatic and photographic examples of vernacular and high-style houses and even suggests the frequency of certain features, such as variants of porch supports.

Content analysis of trade and popular magazines has resulted in a more systematic and analytical approach to discerning house style patterns (Mattson). The house-by-house field work necessary to arrive at detailed quantitative data on housing characteristics and styles is just too large an undertaking for even a team of researchers. The problem has been avoided by only studying the works of master builders (Storrer) or one spectacular (Curtis) or distinctive style (Ricci; Prosser). This approach provides considerable depth of understanding about an individual architect or a particular style, but fails to provide the breadth of understanding necessary to describe and explain the housing landscape.

House styles consist of distinctive combinations of building materials and architectural details. But before houses can be classified, the spatial and temporal distribution of detailed housing characteristics must be described. This paper presents the results of such an analysis. In subsequent work the detailed features will be combined to develop a typology of house types based on empirical evidence.

The Survey
The constraints of previous studies were overcome by using undergraduate students over the last ten years in a geography field course, which has been taught each Spring in a concentrated three-week period. In the first two weeks, students learned to identify building characteristics and construction materials, and to classify house styles by studying houses in various neighborhoods and reading architectural books. The third week of the course has been used to collect data and map a few of the results.

Students were given the relatively easier task of collecting information on the characteristics of single-family houses rather than the much more difficult task of classifying houses by style and date of construction. Even experts disagree on the classification and naming of house styles, let alone identifying the style for each house! Most houses are neither pure nor high style; hence, individual architectural details and building materials are more useful and accurate in suggesting various stylistic expressions and the age of construction than an aggregate assessment.

Groups of two or three students were assigned several city blocks for which they collected field and city assessment data on a standard form. Table 1 lists the kinds of information collected by source. With about ten groups per year and each one surveying about sixty houses, we mapped approximately 600 houses per year. Each group mapped only three variables--principle wall materials, age of housing, and assessed value--for each house in their respective study area. The hand-colored maps were glued together, and each year's maps were added to that of the previous years.

By breaking down the research problem into very small parts--only a few students working with a small number of houses and mapping the results --the accuracy of the data was easily checked and a large number (7,106) of houses were surveyed. These survey data were computerized and the findings from the first phase of this project are reported here.

The Results
The survey started in the oldest parts of Eau Claire and included houses from the 1860s to the 1970s. Very few of the oldest (1860s) houses are still standing; they represent only two percent of all houses in the city. Except for the 1920s and 1950s, less than ten percent of all houses in Eau Claire were built each decade (Fig. 1). The distribution of Eau Claire's housing stock by decade is strikingly different from that of the United States (Fig. 1). Eau Claire has a larger percentage of its total housing stock from the nineteenth century than the nation. While Eau Claire suffered from the collapse of the lumber industry in the early twentieth century, the U.S. was adding many new houses. By the 1920s-1930s Eau Claire's economy was doing better than the national one and local housing starts were greater than nationally, but after World War II the local economy again lagged behind the United States. Relatively few 1970s houses appear in Figure 1 because many of these houses must still be surveyed.

The spatial distribution of the age of housing in Eau Claire forms a series of concentric rings around several cores (Fig. 2). Several older, inner city districts developed around three separate settlements of the 1850s. Subsequent housing filled in the empty blocks in these districts and added sizeable new bands. By the 1920s, larger sections of relatively uniform age and styles of houses were added. The post-World War II suburbs with their low housing densities represent the largest expansion of the built environment.

The character of Eau Claire's single family housing stock is examined for each of the major parts of houses: roofs, chimneys,windows, walls, foundations, shapes, and stories. The data were averaged by decade and city block. Roof Shapes and Roofing Materials Of the four major shapes of roofs, gables predominate--representing 77 percent of all houses in Eau Claire--but hipped roofs are also important, accounting for 20 percent. Gables are fairly evenly distributed over time, but all the other roof shapes vary significantly by decade (Fig. 3). In Eau Claire, 39 percent of all hipped-roofed houses were built during the 1950s. Gambrel roofs were particularly popular in the 1920s and also in the 1910s. Mansard roofs were most common from the 1870s to the 1880s, with 83 percent of all mansard roofs dating to the 1910s. Flat roofed-houses were rather evenly distributed by decades, because they came in two very different kinds: flat sections on the top most portions of gable and hipped roofs, such as in Italianate, Queen Anne, and early Cubic styles; and completely flat roofs found on Art Deco and International style houses.

Roof Characteristics
The spatial distribution of roof shapes is very scattered for the three minor shapes and ubiquitous for gable roofs. Only hipped roofs, which are best associated with Split-Level and Ranch styles have a distinctive pattern, accounting from 50 to 100 percent of all such roof shapes in 1950s suburban city blocks (Fig. 4).

Almost no variety in roof materials exists in Eau Claire, 99 percent were asphalt shingles. Although other roofing materials were numerically insignificant, they varied considerably by decade (Fig. 5). Only 0.5 percent or 32 houses, had wooden shingles: some nineteenth century houses have thin shakes and post-1930s houses have thicker and rougher ones. Tiles, usually reddish in color associated with Spanish Revival styles, and slate, commonly associated with French Provincial and expensive houses in general, were two other very minor types, but 46 percent of all tile roofs occurred in the 1920s and 1930s and 53 percent of all slate roofs were found on 1930s and 1940s houses. The spatial distributions of these minor roof materials was erratic because very few complete city blocks were ever built with only tile or slate. The map of slate roofs (Fig. 6) identifies the few blocks with 1920-1939 housing, which were found on the edge of upper income, late-nineteenth century neighborhoods.

Chimney Characteristics
The survey collected information on four chimney features: locations, numbers, shapes, and materials. Only two primary chimney locations were identified: central and end (Fig. 7). The two locations were rather evenly distributed by decades, varying more by house styles than heating technology. End chimneys were a bit more common in the 1870s, 1920s, and 1950s-1960s. Central chimneys appeared in larger numbers during the 1920s and especially in the 1950s with Cape Cod and early Ranch styles.

Almost 89 percent of all houses had only one chimney; another 7 percent had two (Fig. 8). Multiple-chimney houses were associated with Victorian high-style and vernacular low-style houses which were heated by stoves and fireplaces. One-chimney houses became numerically important with central furnaces which first used steam or water heating and later, forced air.

Chimneys have very simple shapes, but they are distinguished by the presence of corbeling which comes in two forms: very elaborate, typical of late nineteenth-century mansions, and simple, such as found on expensive 1940s-1960s houses (Fig. 9).

Chimney were overwhelming built of brick: reddish bricks accounted for 80 percent and yellowish bricks represented 7 percent (Fig. 10). Various forms and sizes of cement blocks were also evident, adding almost another 2 percent. In each decade reddish bricks represented about 10 percent; notably greater percentages occurred during the 1920s when darker, multi-toned, and rougher bricks were used and in the 1950s when lighter, thinner and longer, smooth bricks were fashionable. Typical 1950s and early 1960s building materials, whether for chimneys or walls, were cutstone, which appeared on about one percent of all chimneys, and light colored, yellowish brick. Stucco was used mainly to repair chimney tops, but during the 1920s this was the preferred original chimney covering.

Each of the chimney characteristics are especially useful in dating a particular house, but the general spatial patterns only reflect the previous maps, for example Fig. 4 which identifies the 1950s suburban areas.

Window Types and Shapes
Windows were classified into four types: standard, picture, bay, windows in dormers. As expected, 96 percent of all windows were of the standard type; another 3 percent were picture windows (Fig. 11). Again the less frequent types have very distinctive patterns over time. Picture windows were a phenomenon of the late 1940s to the 1960s, these decades representing 73 percent of all picture windows. Dormers were essentially found only in the 1910s through the 1940s, but especially in the 1920s. Bay windows were more even distributed by decade than the other minor window types, yet they were twice as common in the 1960s than in any other decade. City blocks with over 50 percent of all houses with picture windows were concentrated in the post-World War II suburbs (Fig. 12). The few city blocks with a high percentage of dormers indicates the areas with Cubic, Arts and Crafts, Bungalow, Tudor Revival, and New England Colonial house styles (Fig. 13).

Four window shapes were use to simply the collection of data by students. Rectangular windows, whether horizontal or vertical, characterized almost all window shapes (Fig. 14). The other three window shapes were used more to set a window or windows apart from the predominantly rectangular ones. Rounded arched windows were particularly common in the 1870s, indicating an Italianate influence, and the 1950s. Pointed arched windows were especially common from the 1920s to the 1940s. Other shapes, such as round- and diamond-shaped windows, were frequently used in the 1940s.

Wall Materials
Although a wide variety of materials cover the exterior houses, each material tends to be associated with certain decades and/or houses styles. Ten major kinds of wall materials were identified in Eau Claire (Fig. 15). The most common ones were wide wooden clapboard, narrow wooden clapboard, and aluminum siding. Wide (about eight inches) clapboard was most popular during the 1950s. Together with the 1940s and 1960s, these three decades accounted for 59 percent of all wide clapboard. Narrow (about three inches) clapboard characterizes older houses of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and almost disappeared after the 1930s. In the 1970s and especially 1980s, narrow, steel and aluminum siding, often textured, was being used again. Many other Victorian architectural details--porches, steep gables, decorative wood work, bay windows--are being used in the 1980s Neo-Queen Anne revival.

Aluminum siding is not particularly indicative of age because almost each decade had about the same percentage of this siding, except for the last two (Fig. 15). Original aluminum siding first appeared on houses from the 1960s, but most of this wall material was used to cover previous materials, especially narrow wooden clapboard because of its high painting costs.

The other minor wall materials have very distinctive occurrences by decades. Stucco occurred essentially during the 1920s when this "new" material was used to modernize older houses and used on new emerging styles, for example Spanish and Mediterranean Revivals, and Art Deco and Streamline Moderne houses. Reddish bricks, although undifferentiated in the survey, comes in two forms: 1) darker, multi-toned, and rougher; and 2) lighter, uniform-toned, and smoother. The first kind appeared during the 1920s to the 1940s and the second kind during the 1950s-1970s. Yellowish bricks were found on houses during the 1950s. In contrast to many other Midwestern towns, Eau Claire has almost no nineteen century brick houses, many of which were built out of yellow-colored bricks. Cutstone was used as accent material with other wall materials during the 1930s-1950s on Revival styles, such as Normandy, French Provincial, Ranch, and Split-Level styles. Wooden shingles as wall covering appeared in the 1870s-1880s on Queen Anne and Shingle style houses and in the 1920s-1930s on Arts and Crafts and Bungalow style houses. The use of rough cement blocks was most commonly associated with basements, but a few houses (16 or 0.2 percent of Eau Claire's houses) were constructed of this material, 44 percent associated with the 1900s when cement and block-forming machinery first appeared. Sears catalogs promoted concrete block construction by selling house plans, building materials, and cement-block molding equipment (Gowans, 85 and 54).

The spatial distribution of wall materials reflects neighborhood construction eras. The map of the percentage of houses with wide clapboard siding by city block (Fig.16) is similar to that of yellowish brick and cutstone. Narrow clapboard siding is another widespread wall material but it shows the reverse pattern: being concentrated in the oldest sections of Eau Claire (Fig. 17).

Foundation/Basement Materials
While many parts of houses were frequently modified and the original building materials were concealed and architectural details were removed, basements were often untouched. These materials, therefore, are particularly important diagnostic features for dating houses that otherwise have few other clues about their age. Three kinds of materials used in the construction of foundations or basements were collected (Fig. 18). Stone in the form of granite, more commonly limestone or sandstone, appeared in fifteen percent of all houses in the 1860s-1900s. Rough cement blocks were made from a new building material: cement. These earliest cement blocks resembled cutstone; hence, they were long (about 24 inches) with irregular surfaces. During the 1920s these longer rough blocks became shorter (12 inches) but were still rough. The difficulty for students to differentiate between long and short rough blocks resulted in one category rather than two. Notice the high frequency of all rough cement blocks in the 1910s to the 1930s. In houses from earlier decades, these cement blocks were used on additions, under porches, or as foundations when houses were moved to new sites. The rough varieties were replaced during the 1940s by short and smooth cement or cinder blocks and continue to be used today.

Figure 19 shows the location of smooth cement block foundations. The highest percentages are in the post-1930s neighborhoods.

House Shapes and Stories
Rectangular house shapes represented over 60 percent of all house shapes in Eau Claire and were particularly common from the 1920s-1960s (Fig. 20). The other house shapes show more striking patterns by decades. Squarish house shapes were especially popular in the 1910s-1920s when the Cubic style appeared and in the 1950s when the early, squarish Ranch or Minimal Traditional (McAlester and McAlester, 476) and Cape Cod styles were in fashion. The largest number of L-shaped houses were built in the 1860s-1900s and then again in the L-shaped Ranch styles of the 1950s and early 1960s. Irregular house shapes--often with fifteen or more outside corners--were typical of the latter part of the nineteenth century when complicated floor plans and elaborate decorations inside and outside houses were popular. Also older houses often have had more additions, which usually adds to the irregularity of floor plans.

Although most of the houses shapes have distinctive temporal patterns, their spatial distributions are less regionalized. The map of L-shaped houses indicates a widely scattered pattern (Fig. 21) because this house shape had a high frequency of occurrence during the late nineteenth century and then again in the post-1940s.

The height of houses is very indicative of age of construction and style. In the Eau Claire study, 37 percent of all houses were one story; 30 percent were one-and-a-half stories; 31 percent were two stories; and two percent were more than two stories. The single most important decade for single story houses was the 1950s, whereas one-and-a-half story houses were found in the 1910s-1940s. Two-and-more story houses were predominantly built before the 1930s. The height of houses is strongly associated with the overall size and cost of houses, albeit that nineteenth century houses were generally larger than more recent ones. The spatial pattern of the average number of house stories (Fig. 23) correlates very closely with the average assessed value of houses (Fig. 24).

Applications of the Results
Individual building materials and architectural details of houses often have distinctive patterns in time and space. To verfiy these results, researchers in other communities can use a stratified, random sample of houses to houses in their communities with the results presented here.

In the next phase of the research, the individual housing attributes will be combined into ideal types in order to establish the frequency of basic house styles by decades and neighborhoods. Certain styles will be relatively easily to identify but these also will be numerically minor, for example Spanish Revival with its red tile roofs, plastered walls, and rectangular shapes. The more ubiquitous styles tend to have many elements in common and separating them into distinctive types will be more difficult. For example, Bungalow and Ranch styles both have rectangular shapes but their orientation is generally at right angles from each other: the short ends of Bungalows and the long sides of Ranches face the streets. Statistical techniques, such as cluster analysis, and additional field observations may resolve these classification problems.

In the third phase of this project, individual housing characteristics and house styles will be matched with the occupation of the residents. City directories for each decades will be used to quantify and understand the class structure of small towns as reflected in the built-environment.

References Cited
Meinig, D. W. (ed.) 1979 The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes: Geographical Essays. Oxford University Press: New York.
Upton, D. and Vlach, J. (eds.) 1985 Common Places: Readings in Material Culture. University of Georgia Press: Athens, Georgia.
Rickert, John E. 1967 House Facades of the Northeastern United States; A Tool of Geographic Analysis. Annals, Association of American Geographers, 57, no. 2: 211-238.
Gowans, Alan 1986 The Comfortable House. MIT Press: Boston.
Clark, Clifford Edward 1986 The American Family Home, 1800-1960. University of North Carolina Press: Chapel Hill.
McAlester, Virginia and McAlester,Lee 1984 A Field Guide to American Houses. Alfred A. Knopf: New York. Storrer, William Allen 1974 The Architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright: A Complete Catalogue. MIT Press: Cambridge, Mass.
Curtis, James R. 1982 Art Deco Architecture in Miami Beach. Journal of Cultural Geography, 3: 51-63.
Stilgoe, John R. 1982 Common Landscapes of America, 1580 to 1845. Yale University Press: New Haven, Conn. Curtis, Foley, Mary Mix 1980 The American House. Harper & Row: New York.ly
Gowans, Mattson, Richard1981 The Bungalow Spirit. Journal of Cultural Geography. 1, no. 2: 75-92.
Pillsbury, Richard and Kardos, Andrew 1970 A Field Guide to the Folk Architecture of the Northeastern United States. Geography Publications at Dartmouth (no. 8): Hanover, N. H.
Prosser, Daniel J. 1981 Chicago and the Bungalow Boom of the 1920s. Chicago History. 10: 86- 95.
Ricci, James M.1979 The Bungalow: A History of the Most Predominant Style of Tampa Bay. Tampa Bay History, 1: 6-13.
Barland, Lois 1960 Sawdust City. Worzalla Publishing : Stevens Point. Worzalla Publishing
Barland, Lois 1965 The Rivers Flow On. Worzalla Publishing: Stevens Point. Worzalla Publishing
U.S. Bureau of the Census 1966 Housing Construction Statistics: 1889-1964. Government Printing Office

Using Cultural Landscapes to Teach Cultural Diversity by Ingolf Vogeler
for the Wisconsin Geographer,Vol. 11, pp. 13-25
Abstract [Figures and Tables are not included.]

Geographers can contribute to the current interest and debate on "cultural diversity" by employing a cultural landscape approach using color slides and topographic map analysis. In a course on the cultural landscapes of North America, I discuss utopian communities of the past and present, religious landscapes, racism, social geography of cities, placelessness, sin and sexism, and fantasy and manipulation. Potentially controversial topics are grounded in specific landscapes and topographic map manifestations. Students reacted very favorably to this geographical approach to cultural diversity.

Introduction
In the last five years issues surrounding "cultural diversity" have become popular topics for discussion in the media and in education, particularly at universities and colleges, in the United States and the United Kingdom. With increasing ethnic and religious strife in Europe, the media, governments, and schools are also dealing with cultural diversity and tolerance. In the name of cultural diversity, U. S. universities are implementing "politically correct" speech, and sometimes even behavior, and introducing changes in the curriculum to deal with race and gender issues. Without being ideologically specific, these initiatives and policies have caused confusion, unintended outcomes, and resentment among the general public, faculty, and students. In the past, the dominant institutions and (Northwestern European) groups in the United States and Canada excluded intentionally and unintentionally "marginal" ethnic (Eastern and Southern) European groups, and racial minorities. With increasing rates of "hate" crimes (Ehrlich, 1994) and social problems in the inner cities (drugs, gang violence, teenage pregnancies, carjacking), discussions of cultural diversity have been designed to address and overcome discrimination based on biological and physical attributes in particular, and specifically racism, sexism, and ageism. For example, the U.S. states of Wisconsin and Minnesota require all teacher training programs to educate future teachers in "human relations" which deals with various kinds of discrimination and encourages cultural appreciation.

In the United States today cultural diversity is actually a euphemism for race relations but the dominant institutions of government, education, and the media fail to even label the issues accurately, which in turn creates even more confusion, resentment, or avoids the hard issues that were supposed to be addressed. In my university, for example, the American Ethnic Coordinating Office deals exclusively with only four racial groups: American Indians, African-Americans, Hispanics, and South-East Asian-Americans. By failing to accurately label the issues and services that this office provides, and by extension, addressing cultural diversity comprehensively, individuals with European ethnic backgrounds feel excluded and resent the "special" treatment of racial minorities. Instead of enhancing racial understanding and harmony, this mislabeling and its misinterpretation exacerbates race relations! Geographers, however, can make a significant positive contribution to the clarification and understanding of broadly-based cultural diversity issues by using a distinctively geographical approach -- cultural landscape analysis.

Geographical Approach: Cultural Landscapes
Geographers have argued forcefully for using literature, particularly novels (Brooker-Gross, 1991), and films (Aitken and Zonn, 1994) to understand places and people in general and to sensitize students to the "other." I would suggest that a landscape approach, a distinctively geographical perspective, can also contribute significantly to the understanding and therefore to the improvement of race and ethnic relations and cultural tolerance in general wherever they occur -- which in today's world seems to be in almost all countries. Human, and particularly cultural, geographers have studied spatial distributions of ethnic, religious, and since the 1960s, racial groups within countries and around the world. Going beyond aerial differentiation, landscape analysis is a well-developed tradition within cultural geography (Cosgrove and Daniels, 1989) and it is especially appropriate and affective in examining issues of cultural diversity within a broad framework.

Classroom discussions based on this and other slide scenes are not meant to provide definitive answers, which are still the norm in the social sciences, but rather to understand, and hopefully to even appreciate, the different and conflicting interpretations of the same cultural landscape. Only through thorough, thoughtful, and comprehensive analysis, discussion, and insights of real places and situations, can we as educators hope to contribute to at least tolerance -- regardless of ethnicity, race, gender, sexuality, age, class, and region -- and, maybe even, to appreciate cultural diversity. In the United States, cultural geography and certainly cultural landscape analysis, has not deal with cultural diversity topics. While social geopraphy deals extensively with racial, ethnic, and income groups, this field of study is poorly developed in the United States, in contrast to the United Kingdom. Indeed, the "new" cultural geography with its political-economic orientation is essentially a British field of study (Bird et al 1993). In that sense, this course has more in common with the "new" cultural geography as practiced in the United Kingdom than with the "old" cultural geography in the United States. This course then is distinctive because it uses traditional landscape analysis with slides and maps to examine cultural diversity topics. This course examines three inter-related components of places:

Most theories in the social sciences are based on the assumption that individuals are atomistic and thus independent of one another. These individualist or conservative theories leave unresolved the problem of accounting for the order one finds in society unless it is imposed by an external force or forces. In any society there is not a single context but a series of contexts at a variety of spatial scales. Different individuals and groups, depending upon how much access to power and other resources they have, are differentially able to arrange and modify these different contexts. Some have an impact upon the immediate context of their neighborhood, whereas the rich and powerful may leave their mark at national, and indeed at the international, scales. Consequently, landscapes have biographies and are authored. A socio-spatial dialectical approach is used in this course to understand the cultural landscapes of Canada and United States. Such adjectives as "social," "political," "economic," and even "historical" suggest a link to human action. Yet the term "spatial" or "landscape" typically evokes the image of something physical and external to a social context. Traditionally, space is a context for society -- a container -- rather than a structure Created by society. Nevertheless, human ideas are expressed in behavior which then create material manifestations as cultural landscapes. These landscapes in turn affect behavior and ideas in endless causal lops. Cultural landscapes dialectically show cause and effect.

Social and spatial relationships are dialectically inter-reactive and interdependent. Cultural landscapes reflect social relations and institutions, and they shape subsequent social relations. Geographical unevenness is the result of every social process but the dominant market economies actively create and intensify regional or spatial inequalities, manifested in the forms of such landscapes as Indian reservations, racial urban ghettos, and past internment camps for Japanese. At the same time, the continuing expansion and intensification of market forces are also accompanied by countervailing tendencies toward increasing homogenization and the reduction of geographical differences (e.g. placelessness, suburbia, and disneylands). While elites and market forces create spatial inequalities and homogeneity simultaneously, working class groups and groups with alternative values attempt to create landscapes that reflect their own values. Behavioral resistance to dominant cultural values leads to distinctive cultural landscapes, e.g. Indian reservations, communal and utopian communities, and cultural resistance by French Canadians, inner city racial groups, and gay and lesbian neighborhoods. The cultural landscape approach clearly has its limits. Only those aspects of culture and of social groups that are visible in the form of signs, symbols, artifacts, buildings, agricultural land uses, and settlement patterns can be included.

Many important topics are often difficult to examine through landscape analysis and/or individual instructors lack the visuals to adequately develop a topic. For example, although U.S. slavery is an important and rich topic, I have not yet done the necessary field work and taken the appropriate slides to develop a unit on the landscape of slavery. Photographs and maps from the relevant literature can help to produce a compelling slide-lecture; nevertheless, first-hand experiences and slides are ultimately necessary to hold the interests of students and establish trust, especially as the topics become controversial. Outside of North America, landscape analysis could be made of the South Asian communities in the United Kingdom, Turks in Germany, and North and West Africans in France.

Cultural Diversity Teaching Approach: Controversy
The very nature of dealing with cultural/racial diversity leads to controversy regardless of the characteristics of the students, hence many teachers try to avoid the "dreaded" topic, as Frederick (1994) calls it. De Fay (1993) argues that the claims of objectivity, neutrality, and color blindness are premised upon the idea that race (and by extension all categories of meaning) is devoid of social meaning. Such claims reduce racist actions to randomly occurring, intentional, and individualized acts. Instead, critical race theory maintains that racism must be understood through contextual and historical analysis, as racial oppression is experienced in tandem with other forms of oppression such as gender, class, and sexual orientation. Racism needs to be seen from an interdisciplinary perspective without relying on one meta-theory or one strategy (Jackson 1989). Geography and landscape analysis are particularly well suited for this task because of their long-standing integrative approach of considering all aspects of landscapes or places at various scales. To be effective, cultural diversity must be broadly defined, not restricted to race alone as is the current fashion in the U.S. today. European ethnic groups, racial and religious groups, women, and alternative social communities together constitute the rich history and geography of the United States and Canada. An inclusive treatment of these topics will hopefully move some students beyond merely tolerating to even appreciating the contradictory interpretations of landscapes, and the cultural and value conflicts that are inherent in cultural diversity and democracy itself. At my univeristy, "Cultural Landscapes of North America" is taught at the first- and second-year level without prequisites and available to all students at the university as for general education or liberal arts credits.

Course Description
In my course on the "Cultural Landscapes of North America," I combine landscape analysis with cultural diversity to teach understanding and appreciation of both. This course is akin to music and art appreciation, which are also holistic and attempt to stretch the mind and senses beyond the obvious. Too often, "foreign" or "exotic" (unknown to us) places and people, whether within one's own country or abroad, are simply ignored or "consumed" as another kind of commodity in the form of ethnic fairs and tourism. But North American cultural landscapes express historically the ideals, behaviors, institutions, and interactions (and lack of such) of American Indians, ethnic Europeans, African Americans, Hispanics, and Asian Americans and their spatial and social interactions. To understand, appreciate, and enjoy these different cultural landscapes, this course tries to achieve six course objectives during forty-five class periods in one semester: 1) Define the concept of culture. 2) Know the components of the cultural landscapes. 3) Document the relationship between human ideals and fantasies and human-Created landscapes. 4) Identify how religious, ethnic, and racial groups have placed their imprints on the landscapes. 5) Understand how economic, political, and social processes are expressed in landscape forms. 6) Know the salient features of the geography of oppression, by race and gender.

The course examines cultural landscapes in its many forms: past and present, utopian and mundane, racial and sexual, rural and urban, practical and entertaining (Figure 2). To help students identify with the course, I start with the European settlement of North America but from an alternative perspective: utopian communities. Extinct utopian communities, such as the Shakers, Oneida, and Amana, and existing ones, e.g. Amish and Hutterites, are compared and contrasted with each other and with the dominant individualistic society. Communitarian societies Created distinctive landscapes in the design and arrangement of their buildings. Their communistic values, collective behaviors, and distinctive landscapes contrast(ed) with the individualism of the mainstream society. Another major component of culture is religion. Even in a country which constitutionally guarantees religious freedom, dominant religious groups in the United States have been intolerant and prejudiced towards "different" religions, whether towards Mormons and Roman Catholics largely in the past or towards the Amish and Jehovah Witness today.

Cultural diversity requires that religious attitudes be examined. Aside from churches and cemeteries, however, most Western religions do not create unique large-scale landscapes. Yet Roman Catholics, especially in the Province of Quebec in Canada and in major concentrations in United States, have made major imprints on the land: shrines of all sorts and sizes in private yards and along roadsides; shrines and grottos on church grounds; ethnic-based church architecture; crucifix-centered cemeteries; saint place names; and religious institutions, e.g. schools, hospitals, pilgrimage centers. The religious zeal and communal values of the Latter Day Saints of Jesus Christ (Saints for short, or better know by the Gentile name, Mormons) Created a distinctive landscape in Utah in the 19th century. The Dutch Reform churches of western Michigan are included to show that like many other ethnic-based churches, their landscape is distinguished by their ethnicity rather than by their religion.

Given the importance of race in U.S. history, race is, ironically, a difficult topic to discuss; hence, it is usually ignored in the classroom and in public, except in sensationalist forms. Historically, race relations started with the native peoples, and continued with Hispanics from the Spanish empire and Mexican land losses, African slaves, and Asian immigrants -- to name only the major groups. Each racial group has had its particular relationship with the dominant white society. The most distinctive cultural landscapes of racism (the institutionalization of race-based behavior and policies) are Indian reservations. Figure 3 shows the many and various ways that the unequal interactions between the U.S. government and Indian tribes have left their imprint on the landscape. The history and geography of the internment of Japanese-Americans and -Canadians during World War II is important not so much because of the number of people involved (120,000 in the United States and 26,000 in Canada) but because of the constitutional and ethical issues raised about the rhetoric and reality of "freedom" in these two countries. Do wars justify suspending individual liberties based solely on racial categories? The U.S. Supreme Court itself had contradictory views: first authorizing the internment of the Japanese-Americans on the mainland of the United States, actually only along the West Coast and particularly in California, and then it struck down its earlier decision in 1945. Many other race-specific landscapes could be developed: the well-established Chinese, Japanese, and Korean communities in large cities, and most recently, the Hmong of Southeast Asia who settled in many small towns in the Midwest.

Large U.S. cities provide the context for geographyers to visually examine European ethnicity, race, and class -- elements of a comprehensive analysis of cultural diversity. In this course, I use Chicago because it dominates the region in which students in my university live and where most will work. Although most of the students have never visited the second largest city in the United States, which is "only" six hours by car from the campus, I hope that after the course they will feel comfortable and knowledgeable enough not only to visit Chicago but also to understand and appreciate the "salad bowl" that is the United States rather than the mythical "melting pot." The United States never was a melting pot yet the concept was used to make immigrants and minorities of all kinds assimilate into the dominant White Anglo-Saxon Protestant (WASP) culture.

In the third and last section of the course, I return to the universalizing themes of placelessness, sin, and fantasy that affect all cultural groups and individuals today. Relph (1976) defines the processes of placelessness and placeless places as those that lack diversity, significance, and hence lack a sense of place. In these "flatscapes" the significant has become trivial, and vice versa. His critique of modernization and capitalist accumulation raises profound ethical issues about our personal lives and the landscapes we create and are Created for us. Is placelessness really a feature of only industrial/capitalist societies or has it always been present? I argue that fundamentally placelessness relates to frequency: as landscapes become common, they are ignored and are less appreciated; hence, they are treated carelessly, abandoned, and finally destroyed. What are today placeless places will tomorrow more than likely will be considered historic, making them worthy of respect, and probably, fit for preservation (Figure 4). Cultural landscapes continually reflect processes of diversity and uniformity. New cultural landscapes are always being Created and old ones are being destroyed. Examples of specific placeless landscapes examined in this course are CBDs, commercial strips and suburbs (1950s-1960s), and Edge Cities (1980s-1990s).

The secularization and, some would say, the vulgarization of modern U.S. culture is manifested in the landscape of sin and sexism in Nevada, particularly in Las Vegas. Here the cowboy frontier myth and the seven deadly sins can be actualized, particularly as it relates to gambling, (alcohol) drinking, eating, entertainment, staying-up all night, and prostitution. These activities create a fantasy landscape along "The Strip," including huge colorful and elaborate neon signs, architecturally-exotic (movie sets of sorts) casino-hotels, wedding chapels, and escort services. Although technically prostitution is illegal within the counties that contain Vegas and Reno, elsewhere in Nevada it is legal. Legal and illegal prostitution is consequently very pervasive. The Vegas landscape contrasts the thorny moral dilemma of when do traditional Christian ideas of sin become issues of social injustice and human rights violations, particularly as it relates to women. The greater "sin" of "girlie" shows and prostitution might not be the activities themselves but the "sexism" that is involved by treating women as objects of men's monetary power. Although no other city in the world specializes in "sinning" like Las Vegas, some elements and smaller versions of sin landscapes can be found in many other cities. Two particularly good examples in the United States are San Diego, with its major navy port and tourist attractions, and New Orleans (especially Bourbon Street) with its sizable tourist and convention populations.

The geography of fantasy and manipulation is another universalizing theme, illustrated by Hollywood, Disneyland, and the Cowboy Culture. Movies project images of landscapes that influence how millions of people "see" real places. In response to the popularity of movies, amusement landscapes have been Created to allow people to actualize their movie fantasies. Universal Studios in Los Angeles gives tours of its "back lot" (outdoor settings used to film various kinds of generic places: a western town, Mexican village, inner city street) and its "front lot" (indoor sets where the largest percentage of filming takes place). The fake landscapes of the movies are experienced as real places which in turn makes the movies more real! The economy of movie making in southern California has Created a unique landscape of conspicuous consumption. Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles is filled with many large, hand-painted billboards advertising current releases of music and films; auto dealers selling customized cars; and very expensive and distinctive shops and restaurants. In the surrounding hills, Beverly Hills is the home to the many past and present movie stars and decision-makers in the movie and television industries. Again, the many ordinary consumers through their consumption of illusion (through TV, movies, and music) make it possible for the exclusive and expensive homes of Beverly Hills to be built. Rare are the tourists who see these landscapes as their exploitation their collective fantasies have Created individual real places for the wealthy!

In 1955, Walt Disney Created an amusement park, Disneyland in Anaheim, California, and later in 1967 another one, Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida, that were based on cartoon characters and movie sets. What can only be experienced passively through a tour in Universal Studios, can be experienced, actively and first-hand in Disneyland and Disney World! By creating "the happiest place in the world," Disney used entertainment to educate his "guests" (as they are called here) about U.S. history and its ideals. Disneyland creates the idealized landscape: everyone is funneled through Main Street (representing a shared, actually a similar, history), in which pastel-colored and late Victorian-era architectural buildings are used only for retail shops and restaurants, and are only three-quarters the height of actual buildings. Of the five "lands," only Frontierland is pertinent to this course. In reCreated settings of deserts, forests, and lakes, Mississippi riverboat travelers (no gamblers in this "clean cut" world) and fur trading voyageurs paddle along Indian villages that are off limits to visitors by being on islands and fenced off with barbed wire. Yet the synthetic fort -- with its guns, walkways, rooms, camouflaged drinking fountain in a well, and waste dispenser in a cut-tree trunk -- attract children and adults alike to this make-believe world of "cowboys and Indians."

Regardless of the topic, the fundamental questions we need to ask about all landscapes are then:

Readings and Topographic Map Assignments
No textbook is completely satisfactory in a course based on landscape analysis using slides, but as background reading I use Zelinsky's (1992) revised edition of The Cultural Geography of the United States. Another appropriate textbook would be Watson's (1979) Social Geography of the United States, if it were not out of print. I also use six selections, cited in the bibliography, from Janelle's (1992) Geographical Snapshots of North America. The cultural landscapes of North America are examined and interpreted through slides and readings as well as by topographic maps. U.S. and Canadian large-scale topographic maps (1:24,000, 1:50,000, or 62,500) are ideal for studying cultural landscapes, without the expense and time of actual field work. By learning to read maps carefully, students acquire a great deal of information not only about places unknown to them but also to better know and understand the areas that they are already familiar with. I developed eight map exercises based on topographic sheets (Figure 5). Raitz and Hart (1975) provide a sample of topographic map excerpts that illustrate cultural geographical ideas and a set of questions for each map; these could be used to construct other map assignments.

Student Reactions to the Course
Students completed a detailed, four-page questionnaire covering all aspects of the course. Contrary to what I had expected, students (n=59) did not find any of the topics "too controversial, emotional, or inappropriate;" indeed, many liked the "thought-provoking" nature of the topics. Ironically, a few students liked those topics (religion and placelessness) that most of the other students thought were not provocative enough! Students appreciated that the course raised issues that "provoked" them to examine their own values and ways of thinking. Despite my efforts to engage students in discussions, however, they said little in class, although in their evaluations they frequently said that more class discussion should have taken place! All the students strongly liked the use of slides to examine landscapes and cultural diversity topics: "visual effects are the easiest way to learn; much more 'real' and interesting; invaluable; landscapes some of us have never been subjected to; makes learning a lot more interesting to see places and ideas 'first hand;' a great way to associate a concept with pictures, leaves a more permanent understanding." Reactions to the topographic map assignments were also very favorable, more so than I had again suspected. Students commented on paying attention to details (symbols, contour lines, etc.), acquiring map reading skills, and learning to read and interpret various kinds of cultural landscapes. About half of the students thought the Zelinsky textbook was appropriate to the course, but the others found the writing style and vocabulary too difficult. Almost all the students liked the supplemental readings because they related directly to the slide-lectures and were simple to read.

Overall, students evaluated the course topics, cultural landscape and cultural diversity approaches, and topographic assignments very favorably. Here are some of their remarks: "very important and effective; most enjoyable; extremely interesting; looked forward to going to class even on nice sunny days; very informative, interesting, and enjoyable; altered my way of thinking (opened my mind); made controversial topics uncontroversial; helpful to hear viewpoints other than one's own; questioned my own actions." The lack of negative comments may be due to the socio-economic make-up of the students in this course which reflects essentailly the student body of the university. The class consisted of mostly white women of traditional college age from lower middle class backgrounds whose parents frequently had not attended university. Students came from Midwestern small towns and suburbs with Lutheran and Roman Catholic backgrounds. Ten percent of the students classified themsleves as racial minorities in contrast to five percent at the university. The absence of strongly developed political viewpoints -- or at least they were not willing to express them in public -- resulted in little lively discussion in class. At a private university where I once taught, these topics would have been very controversal and led to considerable disucssion because the students were politically conscious and articulate. Regardless of student responses, however, the approach and content of this course are affective in addressing cultural diversity topics. I highly recommend this pedagogical approach to other geographyers.

REFERENCES
Aitken, Stuart C. and Zonn, Leo E. (Eds.). (1994) Place, Power, Situation and Spectacle: A Geography of Film (Lanham, MD, Rowman & Littlefield).
Bird, Jon; Curtis, Barry; Putnam, Tim; Robertson, George; and Tickner, Lisa (Eds.). (1993) Mapping the Futures: Local Cutlures, Global Change (New York, Routledge).
Brooker-Gross, Susan R. (1991) Teaching about Race, Gender, Class and Geography through Fiction, Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 15/1, pp. 35-47.
Cosgrove, Denis and Daniels, Stephen (Eds.). (1988) The Iconography of Landscape (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press). Council on Interracial Books for Children. (1977) Stereotypes. Distortions and Omissions in U.S. History Textbooks (New York, Racism and Sexism Resource Center for Educators).
Ehrlich, Howard J. (1994) Reporting Ethnoviolence, Z Magazine June 1994, pp. 53-60.
Frederick, Peter. (1994) Strategies for Motivating Students in the Classroom, workshop on April 5 at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire.
Fyfe, Nicholas R. (1992) Observations on Observations, Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 16/2, pp. 127-133. Jackson, Peter. (1989) Challenging Racism through Geography Teaching, Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 13/1, pp. 5-14.
Janelle, Donald G. (Ed.). (1992)Geographical Snapshots of North America (New York, The Guilford Press).
Jason, de Fay. (1993) Colorful Language, Socialist Review, 93/3, pp. 187-190.
Kirchherr, Eugene. (1992) Riverside and Pullman, Illinois: 19th-century planned towns, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 187-191 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Lewis, Peirce F. (1979) Axioms for Reading the Landscape, in: D. W. Meinig (Ed.) The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes: Geographical Essays. pp. 11-32 (New York, Oxford University Press).
Lowe, Michelle S. (1992) Safety in Numbers? How to Teach Qualitative Geography?, Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 16/2, pp. 171-177.
Mercer, John. (1992) Urban expressions of cultural duality, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 49-51 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Raitz, Karl and Hart, John Fraser. (1975) Cultural Geography on Topographic Maps (New York, John Wiley & Sons). Relph, E. C. (1976) Place and Placelessness (London, Pion).
Riccio, Rita. (1992) Strolling the strip: prostitution in a North American city, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 114-116 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Ronschede, Gisbert. (1992) Catholic pilgrimage centers in Quebec, Canada, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 292-295 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Watson, J. Wreford. (1979) Social Geography of the United States (New York, Longman). Widdis, Randy William. (1992) A Canadian geographyer's perspective on the Canadian-United States border, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 45-48 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Winsberg, Morton D. (1992) Walt Disney World, Florida: the creation of a fantasy landscape, in: Donald G. Janelle (Ed.) Geographical Snapshots of North America. pp. 350-354 (New York, The Guilford Press).
Zelinsky, Wilbur. (1992) The Cultural Geography of the United States (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, Prentice Hall).

The Cultural Landscape of Wisconsin's Dairy Farming by Ingolf Vogeler
in Wisconsin Land and Life, edited by Robert Ostergren and Thomas Vale
Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1996


Introduction
American Indians and Europeans humanized and settled the land that later was called Wisconsin. The native peoples and their settlements were eradicated by European settlers as they pushed their way across the continent. With western and northern expansion of European settlements across the Midwest and Wisconsin, the Indian frontiers retreated. Today, Indian culture only remains in a few places: reservations, urban ghettos, sacred sites, and museums. Yet Indian culture is widely practiced in the form of powwows, for example; and Indian cultural activities and artifacts have been commercialized at cultural festivals and tourist sites, such as Wisconsin Dells. European settlements were essentially agriculture in Wisconsin. Even where other first-stage economic activities were not agriculture, farming became the enduring activity and the dominant modifier of the physical landscape. In the southwestern corner of the state, mining was the earliest European activity and in the northern third of the state, lumbering was the primary settlement form. But when the mines and the timber were exhausted, farming was established. Through the settling process, European pioneers cleared the land of trees and stumps and built individual farmsteads. Although the nucleated villages so typical of Europe are absent in the "Old World," these settlers essentially re-Created European rural landscapes. The U.S. Congress passed two pieces of legislation that established the distinctive legal and visual framework for most rural areas in the United States, and certainly in Wisconsin: individualistic and low-density scattered farm populations. The Ordinance of 1785 established the Township and Range Survey system and hence most of the road, farm, and indeed, field patterns west of central Ohio. The first Homestead Act of 1862 distributed public domain land in maximum 160-acre parcels to settlers who had to live and work their land and then pay for the land that they had claimed. Whether settlers bought their land or homesteaded, the density of farms was rather high as original sizes varied often from 80, 120, and 160 acres. The lasting aspects of these European settlement processes are visible in the fields and farmsteads across the state. Although many different crops are grown and livestock are raised, the ubiquitous farmsteads stand as landmarks in the open countryside. In the past, farmsteads reflected the self-sufficiency and the multi-faceted aspects of family farming. And even as agriculture has become specialized, the buildings of farmsteads speak to our collective cultural heritage. Farm houses, and horse and livestock barn(s) were invariably surrounded by small outbuildings: chicken coops, pigpens, granaries, grain bins, corn cribs, potato storehouses (in a few specialized agricultural areas), furrowing houses, tool and machine sheds, windmills, silos, root cellars, smokehouses, summer kitchens, and privies. Not every farm, of course, had all these buildings. Even though today most of these buildings have lost their function and have been abandoned or used for alternative purposes, observant travelers can still probably see most of these buildings within a day's travel.

Dairying in Wisconsin: The Historical Context
Wisconsin was the third frontier area to shift from wheat to dairying. By 1850, upstate New York and the "backbone counties" of Ohio had already made the transition to major dairy farm areas. Many of the Yankee pioneer settlers in Wisconsin were eager for the easy profits in the new wheat areas of the Dakotas during the 1870s and 1880s; and they sold their Wisconsin farms to the newly arriving Germans, Scandinavians, and Bohemians who had no choice but to work "hard and persistently, the long year through" to make a living. To them, milking cows twice a day, feeding and tending cows, delivering milk to the factory, and working in the fields was all in a day's work. Although most farmers only kept several cows for their own use, some farmers practiced commercial dairying already by 1860. These early dairy farmers were widely scattered in southeastern and southern counties of Wisconsin. Kenosha, Racine, Milwaukee, Walworth, and Green counties were the largest per capita producers of butter. Intensive dairying developed rapidly and spread across the state from the 1860s to the 1890s.

Three major influences account for this transformation

  1. New York dairy farmers settled in Wisconsin;
  2. research and extension work by the College of Agriculture encouraged dairying; and
  3. foreign-born immigrants participated in the practical application of dairy knowledge.

New Yorkers who came to Wisconsin in large numbers during the 1830s to the 1850s brought with them the knowledge and skill of scientific and commercial dairying. Prior to Wisconsin's prominence in dairying, New York was exemplary for good breeding and well-run dairy operations. New Yorkers frequently headed local movements to build cheese factories, to organize breeder associations, and other kinds of dairy improvement societies in Wisconsin. They demonstrated that the practice of breeding "dual purpose" cows, for beef and milk, should be replaced by breeding for milk only. The College of Agriculture at the University of Wisconsin in Madison encouraged dairying and provided short courses and winter classes (the first in 1887) to dairy farmers. Research at the college resulted in the Babcock milk tester, bacteriological tests for detecting diseases, and practical methods of pasteurizing milk. The college also held farmers' institutes throughout the state, the earliest in 1886, at which scientists and farmers shared experience and knowledge. During the 1870s, several developments helped strengthen the cheese industry in Wisconsin. In 1871 refrigerator railroad cars became available to deliver cheese shipments to East Coast markets. At the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, Wisconsin cheese and butter rated second after New York's. By 1920, Wisconsin had the highest percentage of pure breed dairy cattle in the Midwest.

Cultural Landscape of Dairy Farming
The relative importance of Midwest dairy farms in the United States is best illustrated by a cartogram, which depicts the size of each state by the number of its dairy farms (Figure 1). By using relative space, rather than the accustomed absolute space of area, the cartogram demonstrates the national importance of Wisconsin and the adjacent states. Dairying in the northern Midwest and particularly Wisconsin is a major source of farm income and creates a distinctive cultural landscape. In every county, except Villas and Milwaukee, dairy farms, defined by having half or more of their income deprived from dairy products, ranked first (or in the case of Kenosha and Oneida, second) among the thirteen farm types identified in the U.S. Census of Agriculture.

Dairy farms leave their imprint on the cultural landscape because such farms include various kinds of land uses, buildings, and cattle -- all help to identify and define a distinctive cultural landscape. Large barns with attached milk houses and tall silos are the salient features of this cultural landscape. Dairy barns are ubiquitous along the interstate and state highways in the northern Midwest. Their presence helps make the rural landscape interesting and attractive for travelers. To aesthetically inclined travelers, a red barn in a wintry scene or a set of white barns against the greens of summer is a beautiful scene. The large dairy barns are also the subject of paintings and postcards. To visitors from outside the region, barns may have only aesthetic value, but barns are the foremost practical structures reflecting traditional rural values of hard work, cooperation, and love of the land. Especially on dairy farms, barns are the daily focus of economic activities. The great barns of the Dairy Region are testimonials to a way of life distinctive to a labor-intensive, livestock farm economy. The crop patterns associated with dairying also add a distinctive motif to the region's countryside. Corn fields, hay crops, pastures, and woodlots intermingle to provide an ever changing array of colors in spring, summer, and fall.

Dairy Barns Barns are machines. Their purpose is to increase usefulness, i. e. increase productivity, simplify tasks, and/or increase safety. Consequently, barn designs rapidly became standardized. As farmers in Wisconsin specialized in dairying, they developed distinctive structures, illustrated by a cross-section and floor plan of a dairy barn (Figure 2). Of all the structures on farms, the dairy barns with their silos are the most visually dominant and important structures in rural Wisconsin.

Historically, dairy barns required 1) lots of space in the loft for loose hay to feed dairy cows during the long, cold, and snowy winters and 2) rows of windows in the stone or concrete basements to provide light for feeding and milking. All farm outbuildings perform specific functions and often have distinctive forms. Dairy barns are the largest of the many outbuildings and have unique features. As such, they catch our attention in the landscape and demand description and explanation. When U.S. agriculture was industrializing, farm magazines, farm building companies, and government agencies were promoting more efficient ways of doing things, including of course dairying. As the Midwest, and especially Wisconsin, became the center for dairy farming, this region produced a host of publications dealing with dairy barn design, construction, equipment, and practices. Although the number of dairy farms has declined dramatically, especially since the 1950s, and newer dairy technologies have emerged, earlier patterns are still very much present in the cultural landscape.

The Department of Agricultural Engineering at the University of Wisconsin in Madison published detailed drawings and lists of materials necessary for various kinds of dairy barns. Although horses are no longer used and the number of cows has increased, the layout of many dairy barns dating from these decades reflect the basic floor plans seen today. The shape of roofs on dairy barns reflect the changing need for more storage space and therefore, also the age of the buildings. The shape of barn roofs results in different amounts of square feet of loft. Barn roofs come in three types: gable, gambrel -- often incorrectly called hip -- and round. Gable-roofed barns are the oldest and simplest barns to build. By the beginning of the twentieth century when dairying became a Midwestern specialty, gambrel-roofed barns became numerous. The advantage of gambrel over the gable roofs is increased storage area for hay without increasing the height of the building. As farmers increased their dairy herds, they built new gambrel-roofed barns as new separate structures or added them to existing gable barns (Figure 3).

Perfected in the 1920s, round-roofed barns had even more loft space and therefore were very suitable for dairy farming. Farmers could store more hay in round-roofed and pointed gothic-roofed than in gambrel-roofed barns. The gothic roof with its pointed top and the rainbow roof with its flatter top were also promoted by agricultural experiment stations, and local lumberyards provided pre-assembled rafters for these roofs shapes which were most popular in the late 1910s and 1920s. As free standing structures, round-roofed barns are heavily concentrated in western Wisconsin and in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, when frontier-stage structures in this last-settled part of the Upper Lake States were being replaced. Since the 1950s, low-pitched gabled pole barns have become the dominant style of barns built. These barns consist of a rectangular set of poles covered with colored metal sheets. Although in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, barns were built to last for several generations, pole barns are not expected to last more than 40 years.

In his study of the distribution and diffusion of barns in the northeastern North America, Noble (1984) identified only five barn types, representing 25 to 100 percent of all barns per county in the northern Midwestern Dairy Region, including Wisconsin. Although English and German barn types are found only in a few places, Three-Bay and Wisconsin barn types are distributed throughout the northern Midwest. Round barns are scattered thinly throughout the state.

Three-Bay Barns. Although these barns are similar in both appearance and function to German bank barns, both having three internal parts or bays, Noble (1984) claims that three-bay barns were perceived as American buildings and hence had wider acceptance than the German barns with their forebays that hung over the basements. Three-bay barns, often on basements and with ramps leading to the upper stories, are common throughout Wisconsin, especially in the southern parts of the state. Wisconsin Dairy Barns. In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the Agricultural Experiment Station at the University of Wisconsin in Madison was promoting an improved barn design, one better suited for the growing dairy industry of the state. "Wisconsin" dairy barns are normally only about 35 feet wide and often 100 feet long. Longer versions of this barn type result in noticeable rectangular shapes. These barns characteristically have rows of windows along the basement walls. Noble (1984, 61) claims that "More county agents reported more occurrences of this barn than of any other except the raised three-bay, which may well confirm the effectiveness of this barn for dairy farming. In many counties of Wisconsin, between half and three-quarters of all barns are of this type."

Round barns. This distinctive barn type reflects the private and public technological innovations at the turn of the century to make farming more efficient and profitable. Round barns are a distinctive Wisconsin contribution to U.S. rural architecture. In 1889, F. H. King at the University of Wisconsin at Madison designed a "distinctively practical barn" which had a greater storage capacity for less building materials and easier feeding (because of a central silo) than rectangular barns. Innovative farmers adopted this new style of barn throughout Wisconsin in the 1890s to the 1920s. Round barns are not particularly clustered in any part of the state. As an innovative barn type, they were adopted wherever farmers needed new barns to replace old ones and they were willing to experiment with the "latest" farm technology. Soike (1983) indicates that round barns are essentially restricted to the Midwestern Corn-Soybean and Dairy Belts: Wisconsin has 180 round barns; Michigan, 25; Indiana, 154; Iowa, 160; and Nebraska, 36. Pole Barns. These are the newest types of barns in the Dairy Region.

Today, few farmers know how to build traditional wooden barns and the teams and crews of neighbors needed for erecting these barns are no longer available. Instead, today's farmers build low-slung metal buildings usually constructed of sheet metal and steel girders because they are cheaper to construct and maintain, and easier to use than the multi-story barns built only fifty years ago. As a recent innovation, pole barns are associated with prosperous agricultural areas where farmers can borrow enough capital to build new buildings. Dairy farming is usually not very representative of such prosperous areas. As a percentage of all barns in a county, pole barns are not important in the heart of the northern Midwestern Dairy Region of central Wisconsin.

Silos and Milk Houses
Wisconsin has been a pioneer in the design of silos. The first above-ground silo was built in 1880 in Oconomowoc, and the world's largest silo was built in 1898 at Lake Mills. It was 64 feet in diameter and 60 feet high and held as much as 200 acres of corn. Already by the 1880s, circular cement silos were being built in Wisconsin (Noble, 1984). By 1888, the U.S. had 91 silos; 60 of them were in the township of Lake Mills. With silage, farmers could keep larger herds of dairy cows during the winter and the cost of keeping cows was lower than with dry feed. Nevertheless, many arguments were made against this new storage technology and silage: cows would lose their teeth, silage would burn out their stomachs, calving would be difficult, and silage would effect the quality of milk. Some even claimed silage made their cows drunk.

As late as 1908, a few creameries still refused to accept milk from farmers who fed their cows silage. Almost none of the square wooden silos are left, but the many round silos, which were perfected in the 1890s, come in many heights, widths, and materials. During the 1910s, round wooden-stave silos were replaced by masonry silos, then by poured-concrete silos, and then cement-stave silos. Cement companies promoted these silos throughout the Midwest. During the 1920s, tile blocks were used for silos and barn basements alike. Farm building design handbooks recommended that silos be placed at the end of the "feeding alley," or the end of barns. And this is where most of the dairy silos are indeed found. Alternatively, some silos were placed on the long-side of barns. By the late 1940s, a new kind of silo was developed. The blue-and-white thermos-like Harvestores were the most recent innovation in storing silage. Perfected in Wisconsin, Harvestores were constructed of fiberglass bonded to sheets of metal. The first 100 Harvestores were manufactured in 1949. Today these blue silos are found throughout the northern Midwest Dairy Region, especially in the southern half of Wisconsin, where the high cost of these silos could be more readily financed. Indeed, Harvestores are good indicators of high-value farming areas and high farm indebtedness because they cost about twice as much as similar-sized cement silos.

The dairy farmsteads of the southern Midwest Dairy Region are the biggest and most prosperous in appearance, frequently characterized by two or more Harvestores. In the northern parts of the region, dairy farmsteads reflect the harder physical and economic conditions of farming; hence, Harvestores are generally absent. Today, almost all dairy farms have at least one silo; many have three or four, of different ages, heights, and building materials (Figure 4). The latest way of storing silage has again changed the appearance of the dairy landscape. In the last five years, "trench silos" have appeared in large numbers on larger dairy farms. Concrete walls or a trench in the ground hold the silage which is covered by (often, black in color) plastic sheets that are held down by old car tires to prevent the plastic from blowing off. An even simpler way of storing silage is to blow it into a plastic tube (frequently, white) that lies directly on the ground, frequently found near farmsteads. These long, white plastic "silage bags" are quite striking in the green and brown landscapes of summer and fall, respectively. Milk houses attached to dairy barns are another distinctive element of the dairy landscape. When milk was stored and transported in milk cans, milk rooms were usually inside barns. But after WWII, separate milk houses were built when bulk storage containers became common and health codes required separate buildings. Since the 1960s, large-scale dairy farmers shifted to labor-saving automated pole barn milking parlors, with pipelines and bulk storage tanks.

Dairy Barns: Topographic Map Symbols and Field Evidence
Architectural characteristics of dairy barns are readily visible driving along rural roads. The distinctive narrow-width Wisconsin type barns have a definite rectangular shape. As farmers increased their dairy herds, existing barns were enlarged, thereby creating elongated structures as well. These distinctive rectangular-shaped dairy barns can be identified on U.S.G.S. (United States Geological Survey) topographic maps, which are available at most University of Wisconsin campuses. Twenty-four topographic maps at the scale of 1:24,000 (which are the most detailed maps published) were selected from across counties with the highest concentrations of dairy cows (7,000 or more per county) in Wisconsin. The number of rectangular and square barns (shown as white shapes) associated with houses (shown as black squares) were counted for each one-mile strip, which are six miles across, on each map (Figure 5). By dividing the number of buildings in each strip by six, the number of buildings per square mile was calculated. Wisconsin has the highest density of rectangular barns per square mile with 8.3; other Midwest dairy states have lower densities: Michigan has 6.5; and Minnesota has only 3.8.

The distribution and relationship between rectangular and square barns was also examined. Rectangular buildings seem to be largely found in counties with large numbers of dairy cows (Figures 6). Overall, the frequency of square barns varies independently of rectangular barns. The number of rectangular barns decreases markedly as the amount of land in forests, bogs, ponds, and lakes increases, yet square barns continue to be common. For example, in the Sands Plains of Juneau and Adams counties with their small number of dairy cows, rectangular barns almost completely disappear yet square barns continue to be common, albeit fewer than in the more productive areas to the north and south.

The relationship between dairy cows and rectangular-shaped buildings on maps was tested by correlating the number of dairy cows in each county through which the map traverse passed with the number of rectangular and square buildings in the map traverse sample. The correlation between rectangular barns and dairy cows in Wisconsin is strong and statistically significant, whereas the relationship with square barns is very weak and not statistically significant. Associating rectangular buildings in rural areas with dairy farms is, then, a very effective yet conservative technique of identifying dairy barns. Although the number of rectangular-shaped buildings found on topographic maps increases with the numbers of dairy cows, square-shaped buildings, of course, are also used on dairy farms. In areas with large numbers of dairy cows both rectangular and square buildings are used for dairying, but outside these areas, square buildings are far more common than rectangular ones. To test the relationship between the shape of rural buildings on maps and the ground, a random sample of 42 farmsteads were examined from the Emerald and Jewett topographic sheets (1:24,000) in St. Croix County, Wisconsin. Essentially, no barns are exactly square as shown on topographic maps, i. e. have dimensions of 1:1. Field work indicates that barns shown as squares on the maps varied in ratios from 1:1.5 to 1:3.5 and that barns shown as rectangles had ratios of 1:4.0 or greater (Figure 7).

Rectangular barns were either originally larger structures or more commonly, smaller barns that have had several additions added to them later. Rectangular-shaped barns generally indicate 1) larger and more prosperous individual farm operations, and 2) more productive farming areas, reflected in a higher density of farm buildings. In the Midwest dairy regions, several other types of farm buildings are rectangular and therefore might appear as rectangular shapes on topographic maps. But each is slightly different from dairy barns. Tobacco sheds, as they are called in Wisconsin, are narrower and often shorter, and poultry sheds are longer than dairy barns. Using county census data, a sample of broiler houses and tobacco sheds in Wisconsin was located on topographic maps. The owners of these farmlands were identified on platbooks, and they were asked over the telephone to verify the actual uses of these buildings. Although tobacco sheds are easily identified in the field, they are not distinctive on topographic maps -- the differences in dimensions are not sufficiently large enough to be depicted on these maps. Broiler houses, on the other hand, are clearly differentiated on maps -- they are noticeably longer than rectangular dairy barns (Figure 8). Because the topographic maps that were used for the traverses were published from the mid-1970s through the 1980s, the number of structures still standing are not the same as those shown on the maps. Some old barns are gone, but some new pole barns have been erected. The number of barns actively used for dairying is certainly less. The map evidence and the barn count on the ground show that in the sample area and throughout the Midwest dairy region, dairy farming was once much more important than it is today. Government agricultural statistics, of course, confirm this as well. Despite the decline in the number of dairy farms, dairy barns are memorials to past agricultural practices and indicate the spatial extent of dairy farming in Wisconsin.

Other Dairy Landscape Elements
A high density of fences is characteristic of the Dairy Region, where small-sized farms and fields require a great deal of fencing. Once cows were sent out to pasture after each milking, but today many dairy farmers feed their cows in or near the barns. Occasionally, a dairy herd can still be seen in the fields, but this is rapidly becoming a "photo opportunity." Yet, wire fences largely remain, especially around pastures and wood lots, as it takes more effort than it is worth to remove them. Actively used pastures are now only enclosed by nearly invisible two- or three-strand electric wires attached to metal posts. Although they are affective barriers for cows and are "cost effective," they do not add to the visual landscape. Because milk had to be picked up from dairy farms once a day in the past and often today, every other day, regardless of weather conditions, rural roads in Wisconsin have "hard" or "improved" surfaces and are very well maintained. Almost all section roads, in fact, are paved. Indeed, gravel rural roads are most uncommon in Wisconsin; in sharp contrast, to the Grain Belt of the Dakotas where gravel roads are the norm. These paved "back" roads are today ideal for recreational bikers! The smaller size of dairy farms results in a high density of rural population, even today when fewer dairy farms operate larger acreage. The non-farm rural population has increased as families occupy farm houses and use barns for hobby or part-time farm purposes while they work in nearby towns and villages. All or most of the farmland is being cultivated and supports the larger-scale farm operations. The high density of rural settlement in dairy regions is still very noticeable on topographic maps.

Small Towns: Central Places for Farm Communities
As farms spread across the countryside and became integrated into the Midwest and U.S. economies, small towns emerged in Wisconsin to collect, process, and distribute agricultural produce and provide all kinds of agricultural inputs from capital to machinery. Stores, banks, and public buildings expressed the general commerce of towns. Creameries and canneries, grain mills, and much less commonly in Wisconsin, grain elevators, reflected the kinds of farms in the hinterlands. Small central places provided service through lumberyards, farm machinery dealers, and machine shops -- formerly blacksmiths. And the railroad depot linked the small towns to the outside world. A thick settlement pattern of central places, e.g. hamlets, villages, and towns, dot the Wisconsin countryside, supporting the large number of dairy farms of the past. Until the 1960s, invariably these "lower order" places had a creamery for turning milk into butter and cheese. Alas, most of these are now abandoned or have been converted to other uses. They remain, nevertheless, some of the largest structures in small towns across the Dairy Region and are historical markers of a prosperous past when the countryside was filled with numerous small-scale family farms. The few remaining cheese factories usually welcome visitors to sample the "fruits of farm labor." The commercial activities of small towns were expressed on Main Street. By the late 19th century, these main streets had an impressive assortment of ornate, brick buildings, reflecting the accumulated wealth of several previous decades, the consequences of fires burning down wooden-built stores, and newly-emerging municipal fire codes that required all new construction to be built of bricks. Indeed, the concept of main street has been enshrined as a symbol of a "simpler and better life" in Disneyland, that thousands of visitors experience each year. Yet on their way to southern California, they drive past thousands of real main streets without bothering to visit them!

Conclusion
Now that the large wooden dairy barns of an earlier agricultural era are falling down and are being replaced by steel buildings, we are beginning to appreciate the old ones by visiting "working" farm and ethnic museums, such as Old Wisconsin; biking on hard surface roads in the countryside; buying a painting or photo of barns and barn boards for paneling living rooms; or eating at Country Kitchens. In addition, postcards, T-shirts, hats, and coffee mugs with black-and-white cow and cheese-head themes are popular throughout Wisconsin in truck stops and boutiques alike. Both locals and travelers can enjoy the "Down Home Dairyland" radio show on Wisconsin PBS stations. In other words, the cultural landscape of dairy farming and its associated activities can be enjoyed in many different ways. But however you enjoy Wisconsin's distinctive dairy farm landscapes, just do it!

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