The Concordia College Conspiracy

To avoid any misunderstanding, I should point out that, unlike the other pages associated with this site, this page takes an admittedly tongue-in-cheek approach to the uncertainty concerning the fate of Winchell's Megatherium after it left the University of Minnesota. While the facts are true, the narrative is embellished to provoke interest in the Megatherium’s fate.

If you came directly to this page, you can learn more about the background of the Megatherium cast at this link to Winchell's Megatherium.

It is a conspiracy rivalling that of the Illuminati, against which Freemasonry was a quaint concept, and which puts QAnon and Lizard People to shame. An intrigue involving a Megatherium, who once oversaw courting couples in the University of Minnesota’s General Museum, being taken and separated from its companions for unknown, nefarious reasons. 

The story began during the closing of the University of Minnesota’s geology museum when Winchell’s Megatherium was transferred to the Saint Paul Institute (now Science Museum of Minnesota). It was meant to become the center of an installation in that institution’s new museum. Yet only four years later, the Megatherium was instead shuffled off to Concordia College in Saint Paul, where it disappeared as mysteriously as the lost colony of Roanoke. 

The Megatherium’s arrival at Concordia occurred at a time when Concordia expanded its curriculum to include a four-year college degree. Two years later, Concordia would award its first Bachelor of Arts degrees, although admittedly that event may not be directly due to the Megatherium’s intervention. Eventually though, Concordia College became Concordia University, possibly a further attempt to obscure the Megatherium’s path. 

My first encounter with this conspiracy came after a chance meeting in January 2023 with a retired Concordia faculty member visiting Tate Hall. When I mentioned my interest in finding out what happened to Winchell’s Megatherium they naively offered to help. In a follow-up email, the retiree reported they were  ‘asking the question at Concordia to see if we can turn up that cast’ -  and they were never heard from again!      (imagine ominous music playing here...). 

Well, to be precise, I never heard from them again. Presumably their family and friends may have, but an ominous silence is much more intriguing.

In June of 2024, I directly reached out to Concordia University library staff to discover what had happened to Winchell’s Megatherium after it arrived at Concordia. Rather than simply answering my question or admitting ignorance, library staff suggested I contact the president’s office which seemed an odd response to a question about a century-old fossil cast.

Although I sent an email to the president’s office, I did not really expect an answer. Yet the president’s reply came the next day. The response’s speed was surprising but so was its content. According to the president, not only was the Megatherium not at Concordia but had probably never been there. Instead, it had most likely gone to Concordia College in Moorhead. 

However, that was clearly not true. Years earlier, Bruce Erickson, the Science Museum of Minnesota’s paleontologist who had received the Megatherium from the University of Minnesota, confirmed he had given it to Concordia College in Saint Paul. Only a week before my email exchange with Concordia’s president, I saw the record of its transfer to Concordia College in the Science Museum or Minnesota’s collection registrar. Yet Concordia University’s administration was now telling a completely different tale. More suspiciously, how had the administration responded so quickly? The few business hours between question and response were far too short to undertake any records search. It bore the whiff of conspiracy, a prepared response designed to deflect attention from Concordia University to their northern namesake. 

That was only the first of Concordia’s denials, misdirection, and disclaimers concerning Winchell’s Megatherium. The following summer, staff at the Science Museum of Minnesota tried their hand reaching out to Concordia and were told the same. The Megatherium had never gone to Concordia University and was most likely in Moorhead.

More recently, a megathere researcher independently in pursuit of the Megatherium’s trail reached out to Concordia University. He was told that ‘a former faculty member took it with them when they changed jobs and went to the University of Minnesota.’

While it was kind of Concordia to no longer shift blame to their similarly-named northern colleagues, this story had even less credibility. No one has joined our department from Concordia University. More pragmatically, the Megatherium cast was eighteen feet long, over thirteen feet high, and literally had its own tree! It was not something you could slip into a briefcase or carry out in a cardboard box while clearing out your office. The tale went beyond straining credulity, deep into the realm of fantasy. 

What we know for certain is that on February 13, 1858, in light of the pending closure of the University of Minnesota’s Geology Museum, the Megatherium cast was given to the Science Museum of Minnesota. Sadly, while there the Megatherium was separated from its long-term companion, the Glyptodon. While the glyptodont cast remains on display in the Science Museum of Minnesota’s Paleontology Hall, the Megatherium cast was given to Concordia College in 1962. And to forestall further accusations against our northwestern citizens, the Megatherium was specifically sent to Concordia College of Saint Paul rather than Moorhead’s Concordia College.

However, there is no evidence nor apparently any collective memory of Concordia reassembling the Megatherium as a public display. Surely someone would remember if they had. Although I am completely unfamiliar with Concordia’s current décor, much less its 1960s couture, presumably a fourteen-foot-tall ground sloth skeleton might have made some impression. 

Yet, there is no mention of a Megatherium on the publicly-accessible campus, and a survey of newspapers and other publications revealed no references to Concordia couples cavorting, cuddling, or canoodling beneath or about any Megatherium as courting pairs once did in Winchell’s General Museum. 

That is where the megathere’s tracks appear to end. Winchell’s Megatherium, likely in a number of boxes, was stored and forgotten or temporarily stored and later disposed of. 

Or was it? Why does Concordia claim it never saw the beast? Why their insistence it was at Moorhead or returned to the U? What deep dark secret are they hiding?

Now, I do not honestly imagine a cabal of Concordia acolytes worshiping Winchell’s Megatherium in drug and drum-fueled rituals in some subterranean campus cavern. Although admittedly that would be awesome...

Instead, my goal is to spark some interest in the Concordia community to discover what happened to Winchell’s Megatherium. Despite my students’ perceptions, the 1960s were not an ancient geological era. It is possible someone might still remember large crates stored in a forgotten corner or ones that were tossed away. 

After all, there is always the chance, no matter how slim, that Winchell’s Megatherium might still exist, just like Mount Holyoke’s Megatherium came back from its apparent death.

Mount Holyoke had a Megatherium identical to Winchell’s. Along with many other Ward casts it was on display in  Mount Holyoke’s Williston Hall - at least until that building burned in 1917. All its displays, including its Megatherium, were consumed by the flames. 

Or at least that was the Megatherium’s presumed fiery fate. Until sixty years later when two students exploring a newly renovated Safford Hall basement found the Megatherium hiding in a closet. While it is tempting to assume the Megatherium, frightened by flames, gained sentience and crawled off to hide in another building, even I have to admit it is more likely the mount was taken down and stored sometime before the 1917 fire. 

Regardless of how it ended up in its sanctuary, the Mount Holyoke Megatherium survived its assumed demise and is once again proudly on display. 

Now to be clear, I am not asking nor encouraging folks to search for Winchell’s Megatherium on their own. Not only is entering private areas of Concordia University buildings trespass and subject to prosecution, but I have been in enough of my own institution’s hidden spaces to know they can be unsafe environments with asbestos or other health issues not immediately obvious to a visitor. 

Rather, I am hoping to jog a retired employee’s memory of large dust-covered boxes in a campus basement, or an alumna’s curiosity as to why they had once encountered a fifteen-foot section of tree trunk lying in a storage area.

And perhaps, although unlikely, there is a slim chance Winchell’s Megatherium could once again frustrate a new generation of preparators or fascinate visiting school groups. 

Some dreams are worth keeping…

Any comments, concerns, or suggestions?

email: Kent Kirkby ([email protected])