Dennis Wagner
The Arizona Republic
Nov. 12, 2006
Stephen Owens became an artifact hunter the day his family moved from Phoenix to Fort Thomas, between Globe and Safford. Then a 12-year-old, Owens recalls meeting the neighbor kids, who promptly invited him to nearby Indian ruins where they began digging.
"That was the bug," he says. "I wanted to put my collection from that week in the Graham County Fair."
Owens grew up to become an architect, but quit his career and returned to archaeological excavations. Now, he is a professional pottery restorer - and a defendant, accused along with Mark Brady of Springerville in the looting of ruins on the San Carlos Apache lands.
Brady, who lost his case by default, could not be reached for comment.
Owens is awaiting a federal hearing, having been found guilty already in tribal court for destroying Apache property.
It is not the first time he's been busted. In 1986 , Owens and a brother were arrested in a government sting involving stolen Indian pottery. He pleaded guilty and paid a $200 fine in that case.
Owens declines to talk about the pending charges against him, but readily discusses and his lifelong love for Indian lore and archaeology. His voice fills with awe talking about people who roamed Arizona 800 years ago, living in homes that could only be entered by way of a ladder to the roof, making beautiful earthenware. "I live it," Owens says. "Every pot is different. Every style has its own formula of clays, slips and paints."
Owens notes that there are millions of ruins on private land where artifact hunters can dig if they have permission, or if they buy the property. In fact, he made pot-hunting a career after a rancher offered to sell him land full of archaeological treasures. And he knows of several diggers who purchased residential plots near Globe that are checkered with pristine ruins. After artifacts are harvested, the land is flipped.
Owens says he's also leased excavation rights from ranchers: "Sometimes they want a piece of the action. They have a pottery collection and they want a split. They get the best piece, and then you get the second best, and so on."
Several years ago, Owens spent 10 months camping at and working a huge site, known as Four-Mile Pueblo, near Taylor in northern Arizona. A group of pot-hunters purchased the land together. When the work was done, Owen recalls, "It looked like moon craters up there. There were hundreds of holes."
Owens says he's a meticulous digger- carefully logging finds, mapping rooms, taking photographs. But he knows there are some who use bulldozers and backhoes.
Owens allows that he and a few other pros can tell a productive ruin -- and know where to dig -- just by looking at mounds and shards. "We're very expert at knowing where pottery is," he explains.
But the business is more difficult nowadays, he adds, because "there's a million ways to get in trouble."
After thinking about his own legal problem, Owens says he's in favor of statutes protecting archaeological sites: "If it weren't for the laws, I don't think there would be any ruins left."
The Arizona Republic
Nov. 12, 2006
Stephen Owens became an artifact hunter the day his family moved from Phoenix to Fort Thomas, between Globe and Safford. Then a 12-year-old, Owens recalls meeting the neighbor kids, who promptly invited him to nearby Indian ruins where they began digging.
"That was the bug," he says. "I wanted to put my collection from that week in the Graham County Fair."
Owens grew up to become an architect, but quit his career and returned to archaeological excavations. Now, he is a professional pottery restorer - and a defendant, accused along with Mark Brady of Springerville in the looting of ruins on the San Carlos Apache lands.
Brady, who lost his case by default, could not be reached for comment.
Owens is awaiting a federal hearing, having been found guilty already in tribal court for destroying Apache property.
It is not the first time he's been busted. In 1986 , Owens and a brother were arrested in a government sting involving stolen Indian pottery. He pleaded guilty and paid a $200 fine in that case.
Owens declines to talk about the pending charges against him, but readily discusses and his lifelong love for Indian lore and archaeology. His voice fills with awe talking about people who roamed Arizona 800 years ago, living in homes that could only be entered by way of a ladder to the roof, making beautiful earthenware. "I live it," Owens says. "Every pot is different. Every style has its own formula of clays, slips and paints."
Owens notes that there are millions of ruins on private land where artifact hunters can dig if they have permission, or if they buy the property. In fact, he made pot-hunting a career after a rancher offered to sell him land full of archaeological treasures. And he knows of several diggers who purchased residential plots near Globe that are checkered with pristine ruins. After artifacts are harvested, the land is flipped.
Owens says he's also leased excavation rights from ranchers: "Sometimes they want a piece of the action. They have a pottery collection and they want a split. They get the best piece, and then you get the second best, and so on."
Several years ago, Owens spent 10 months camping at and working a huge site, known as Four-Mile Pueblo, near Taylor in northern Arizona. A group of pot-hunters purchased the land together. When the work was done, Owen recalls, "It looked like moon craters up there. There were hundreds of holes."
Owens says he's a meticulous digger- carefully logging finds, mapping rooms, taking photographs. But he knows there are some who use bulldozers and backhoes.
Owens allows that he and a few other pros can tell a productive ruin -- and know where to dig -- just by looking at mounds and shards. "We're very expert at knowing where pottery is," he explains.
But the business is more difficult nowadays, he adds, because "there's a million ways to get in trouble."
After thinking about his own legal problem, Owens says he's in favor of statutes protecting archaeological sites: "If it weren't for the laws, I don't think there would be any ruins left."