Stories in Place: How History Shapes Rural Placemaking

Every place has a story worth sharing. As a place-based storyteller, I admit I may be a bit biased, but working with the 2024 Rural Placemaking Studio cohort reinforced how unique each community truly is.

The Rural Placemaking Studio is a technical assistance program that pairs rural communities committed to creating vibrant public spaces with expert IU faculty and students specializing in comprehensive design, creative placemaking, and community arts engagement. In its pilot year, the program facilitated 13 projects across 10 communities, including public art installations, wayfinding signage, pocket park schematic designs, and pre-architectural concepts.

These projects were designed by the community, for the community—each reflecting the distinct identity of the town spearheading the efforts. Alongside our community partners, we uncovered core historical narratives to inform the aesthetic choices of each project.

Understanding these narratives is crucial, as history shapes not only a community’s identity but also its aspirations for the future. Thoughtful placemaking considers both past and present, ensuring that public spaces feel intentional, welcoming, and representative of the people who live there. 

Honoring the past, shaping the future

For every city and town across Indiana, the history of the land extends far beyond the past 200 or so years. Much Indigenous history has already been lost due to colonial practices, making it essential to reclaim and preserve as much of this narrative as possible before it fades further.

How can a community effectively plan for the future without first acknowledging the past that shaped its present? The past—good, bad, beautiful, and difficult—does not have to define the future, but understanding it can help communities heal from existing wounds and make informed decisions moving forward. Recognizing these historical narratives also allows for more intentional and meaningful design choices, ensuring that placemaking efforts reflect a community’s authentic identity.

The coal mining industry offers a striking example of this. Linton, Elberfeld, and Lynnville each have robust (yet distinct) coal mining histories. For all three, coal was the economic driver that put them on the map.

Linton’s population tripled between 1890 and 1900 due to the coal industry, and the town has a deep history of coal miner union activity. In Elberfeld, the closure of the Elberfeld Coal Mine—followed 20 years later by the Ingle Coal Company—severely limited the town’s economy. Lynnville was once one of Indiana’s largest coal producers, mining up to 23 million tons of coal annually in the 1950s. By 2023, that figure barely scraped 2 million tons.

These figures are not abstract statistics—they represent the livelihoods of generations of families. As economic opportunities dwindled, young people were forced to leave in search of better prospects, contributing to brain drain. Decades later, those who remain may find themselves yearning for the "good old days" when their communities thrived with shops, industries, and recreational activities.

But beyond the economic shifts, what happens when a community’s history is not widely known or accessible? What stories get lost, and how does that impact a town’s sense of identity? This realization became especially clear to me while researching for the 2024 Rural Placemaking Studio StoryMap Collection.

Understanding and sharing these histories not only helps preserve them but also provides communities with a foundation for revitalization, ensuring that design choices in public spaces feel intentional, rooted, and reflective of their unique past. 

While researching community histories, I quickly realized that each town could fill an entire book with its stories.

The Town of Crane is a great example of this. While every other town I researched had enough information online that I could write a historical summary, Crane stood out as the exception. I couldn’t find anything, which led me to search public libraries and archives for any information I could get my hands on.

Through deeper research, I learned that before NSA Crane brought large-scale industry to the area, northwestern Martin County (formerly McCameron Township) was a small, self-sufficient, tightly-knit community—so much so that residents relied on a trade and barter system until World War II.

In the 1930s and ‘40s, however, the landscape changed dramatically. Various government initiatives repurposed large portions of land, forcing more than 150 families to relocate. NSA Crane, which employed more than 12,000 people at its peak in 1945, spurred the development of housing and infrastructure, giving rise to the Town of Crane. By the 1950s, the town flourished with shops and social clubs, but as wartime demands subsided and military families moved away, its population declined.

As of 2023, the Town of Crane has only 165 residents, and its history remains tucked away in archives and the fading memories of longtime residents.

This work of uncovering and elevating local history is about more than nostalgia—it’s about helping communities recognize their strengths, reclaim their narratives, and see the potential in their own assets. Placemaking is not just about functional spaces; it’s about crafting environments that tell a story, create a shared identity, and draw people in through intentional design and aesthetics. And that is where true transformation begins.

One of the most rewarding aspects of this work has been facilitating asset-based community development sessions. Initially, when we asked residents to identify their community’s assets, many would pause—wWhat assets?

But as the process unfolded and they began to understand what truly constitutes an asset, something would shift. Their faces would light up, the energy in the room would change, and suddenly, people would start seeing their communities in a new way.

That mindset shift—realizing that their community isn’t as bad off as they initially thought—is one of the most impactful things I’ve witnessed. It has been an honor to be part of that transformation, helping communities recognize their strengths and reclaim their stories.

Seeing these realizations translated into real-world placemaking efforts—whether through revitalized parks, public art, or intentional streetscape improvements—proves just how powerful it is when communities take ownership of their narratives and use them to shape their future.