It seemed like a good idea at the time. The largest flying reptile ever unearthed came from the Big Bend. The scientific name is Quetzalcoatlus northropi and it is a species of Pterosaur, or flying reptile. Pterosaur literally means “flying lizard.” But don’t ever call it a dinosaur. I made that mistake. by Larry Francell    more »

In the midst of all this confusion there was one man who was calmly accomplishing the task of running and marking the boundary as the treaty required: William Hemsley Emory. Born on September 11, 1811 in Queen Anne’s County, Maryland, Emory’s father arranged his appointment to the U.S. Military Academy when he was only eleven. For his daring at West Point he was nicknamed “Bold” Emory. Upon graduation he joined the Corps of Topographic Engineers, which accepted only the best and the brightest. The Corps was an elite unit that before the Civil War laid out roads, surveyed railroad routes, and explored the American West. by Larry Francell    more »

I have always had a fascination with, what we call in the museum racket “Big Rust.” These are those historic artifacts that usually sit outside slowly molding away into a pile of rust, too expensive to maintain properly and too large to move inside. But what is so wonderful about Big Rust is the ability to discern and to comprehend how they worked. Unlike computers, modern automobiles and contemporary most equipment, Big Rust has all of the operating components visible and accessible. by Larry Francell    more »

The good guys always wore white hats and usually rode a white horse. The bad guys always wore black hats and were pure evil. The plots were always the same. The bad guy took over the town, freight company, ranch or mine. The good guy tolerated this evil until provoked beyond his limit and then struck back. There was always the girl, the sidekick for comic relief, and often a song or two depending upon who played the hero. by Larry Francell    more »

Museum visitors, regardless of how we design and direct them through an exhibit, engage in unstructured, amorphous and, if we are lucky, even magical thought. The visitor often has a different experience than what we, as museum professionals, are seeking to provide. This is satisfactory and wonderful. This is the great difference between formal (classroom) and informal (museum) learning. It is in this difference that we shall rejoice. by Larry Francell    more »