art | chuck watson
The Strange and
of the Kensington Runestone
By Jim Richardson
comfortable scientific and scholarly worlds of history, archeology,
runology and Scandinavian linguistics have all been rocked by recent
developments surrounding a single stone in west central Minnesota.
The Kensington Runestone, thought for over 100 years to be a hoax,
now stands verified as a genuine artifact commemorating the deaths
of 10 medieval Scandinavians in Minnesota in the year 1362.
A recent piece of linguistic scholarship by Dr. Richard Nielsen has
hit the scene, which seems to demonstrate conclusively that the Kensington
Runestone inscription is genuine. Nielsens 75-page paper took
12 years of research to write, and was published in the spring 2001
issue of Scandinavian Studies, the peer-reviewed journal of
Nielsens work has been joined by long-overdue scientific testing
on the surface of the stone, coordinated by chemist and design engineer
Nielsen and Hansons findings reveal more than just the authenticity
of a runestone, however. Their work points plaintively at 100 years
of scientific incompetence and knee-jerk skepticism regarding this
valuable historic artifact. The shock waves are just beginning to
reverberate through the scientific world.
Partial Chronology of the Kensington Runestone
1362 The stone
is erected by medieval Europeans on an expedition to the center
of North America. The inscription was probably carved by a priest
from the Swedish island of Gotland, who was also familiar with
the law codes of Vastergötland.
18201880 Numerous unusual runeforms are discovered and documented
by various linguistic scholars. These same runeforms, when later
discovered on the Kensington Runestone, are declared impossible
by various experts in their debunking of the stone,
even though the discovery of these runeforms predates the discovery
of the Kensington Runestone itself.
November 1898 Olof Ohman and his 10-year-old son Edward are winching
over trees to clear their land in Kensington, Minn. They unearth
the stone. It spends its first couple of months displayed in a
January 1899 A translation is attempted, by Olaus Breda at the
University of Minnesota, from a hand-rendered copy of the inscription.
Although he never sets eyes on the stone, and states that he is
not an expert in runology or the language of Old Norse, Breda
yet comes to the conclusion it is a forgery. He makes his recommendation
to the university: Do not procure the stone for further study.
He is later cited as an expert.
February 1899 The stone is sent to George Curme, professor of
Old German at Northwestern University. Curme and his amateur geologist
associate John Seward study the stone for several weeks. Curme
states that although he is not an expert in the language or the
runes, his opinion is that the stone is a hoax because it contains
double dots (similar to umlauts) over a few of the runes, and
the invention of umlauts came after the date on the stone. Curme
is later cited as an expert. It is eventually discovered that
double dots were a medieval convention indicating vowel lengthening
or insertion of a letter. For his part, Steward observed that
the carved-out features of the Kensington Runestone showed as
much age as the weathered surface of the stone. This is what is
expected from a stone that has been hewn out of a rock and then
carved; the rocks surface and its inscription have been
exposed to weathering for the same amount of time. Stewards
observation is ignored by future skeptics.
March 1899 The stone is returned to Ohman. It languishes in his
shed for several years.
August 1907 A University of Wisconsin historian, Hjalmer Holand,
becomes aware of the stone, studies it, and concludes it is a
genuine medieval artifact. Over the years Holand clashes bitterly
with the establishment over the authenticity of the stone.
July 1909 Ohman, his son Edward, and several neighbors all give
signed affidavits stating the circumstances of the stones
discovery, the weathered and aged appearance of the inscription,
and the way the roots of the tree had grown around the stone in
such a way as to exactly conform to the outlines of the stone
(affidavit signed by Ohman neighbor Nils Flaten on July 20, 1909).
1910 The Minnesota Historical Society designates a committee to
study the stone. The committees study, based on both language
and the geological features of the stone, concludes that the stone
is authentic. However, there is some dissent among the membership
and the trustees over the issue, and prominent members of the
Minnesota Historical Society publicly dismiss the stone many times
over the years, continuing to implicate Ohman in the process.
The Illinois State Historical Society issues a 20-page report
claiming the stone is a modern inscription. The report
stops short of implicating Ohman as the carver.
Summer 1911 Holand takes the stone to Europe to have it examined
by Scandinavian language experts. Their conclusion: It is a fake.
The stone is also exhibited in several U.S. cities.
1929 Harold S. Langland, president of Stanley Ironworks in Minneapolis
and trained in the physical sciences, studies the stone for two
months and concludes it is authentic because the carved-out parts
are just as weathered as the rest of the surface of the stone.
1935 Olof Ohman dies.
Early 1940s The managing editor of the Minnesota Archeologist,
R.H. Landon Ph.D., has the stone coated with engine oil and scrubbed
with a powerful solvent, in an attempt to clean it.
No one knows how much damage this may have caused to the testable
features of the stones surface.
August 1967 The infamous Gran tape is made, recording
an interview with Walter Gran, wherein it is alleged by many that
Gran claims his father, a neighbor of the Ohmans, confessed
on his deathbed that Olof carved the stone. There
is no actual confession related on the tape.
1963 Hjalmar Holand, one of the few lifelong defenders of the
1968 Theodore Blegen, who had initiated the making of the Gran
tape above, publishes a book debunking the Kensington
Runestone. The book alludes to a scandalous tale on the Gran tape
and helps to cement Ohmans reputation as an unscrupulous
1973 The BBC films a skeptical Kensington Runestone documentary,
which leans heavily on the bogus Gran tape as its source.
1976 The director of the Minnesota Historical Society, Russell
Fridley, publicizes the Gran tape in his articles in Minnesota
2001 After raging for years, the controversy is settled by the
linguistic scholarship of Dr. Richard Nielsen, and simultaneously,
by the scientific studies spearheaded by Barry Hanson, in concert
with American Petrographic Services of St. Paul and scientists
at the University of Minnesotas department of geophysics.
Story of the Stone
In 1898, just outside of Kensington, Minn., farmer Olof Ohman found
an intensely enigmatic artifact ensnarled in the roots of a tree.
It was a large stone tablet, weighing over 200 pounds, and covered
with medieval Scandinavian runes. The inscription on the stone, which
now resides in a museum in Alexandria, Minn., reads: Eight Goths
and 22 Northmen are on this acquisition expedition from Vinland far
to the West. We had traps by two shelters one days travel north
from this stone. We were fishing one day. After we came home I found
10 men red with blood and dead. Avé Maria deliver from evils!
I have 10 men by the inland sea to look after our ship, 14 days
journey from this island Year 1362.
Many features of the Kensington Runestone were so far outside the
experience of the experts of the day that it was quickly branded a
hoax. Ohmans life was never the same. His reputation was destroyed,
and he and his family endured a virtual reign of terror that, arguably,
helped drive his daughter to suicide. And the stone itself, like Ohmans
reputation, has remained an object of derision ever since.
The reputation of Ohman (who died in 1935) seems to finally be cleared,
but only after a terrible human cost was exacted upon him and his
family. Olofs last surviving son is quoted by family friends
as saying (in a 1995 interview conducted by Ove Pederson with Ione
and Einar Bakke) that discovering the stone was the worst thing that
ever happened to the Ohman family.
A long line of scholars examined the stones inscription and
saw unfamiliar runes, grammatical structures and numerical notations,
and nearly everyone loudly pronounced the stone a fake, and a poor
one at that. Such words were impossible for the 14th century, they
said. However, the unknown numbers, letters, words and sentence structures
ascribed to Ohmans criminal genius began to turn up in authenticated
Scandinavian texts almost immediately after the stones discovery.
Indeed, several unknown runes had turned up even before
the stones discovery, yet went completely unrecognized by the
top scholars of the day.
If the experts had done the proper research at the time, the stone
could have been well on its way to authentication. Ohmans reputation
and family could have been saved. Instead, the story of the discovery
of the Kensington Runestone, Americas first known written document,
will go down in the annals of linguistic shame.
How it Happened
Olof Ohman was a man with 36 weeks of education, nine children and
a marginal farm. Hanson wrote in his book The Trail of Olof Ohman,
Olof Ohmans character, after endless scrutiny by people
who were trying as hard as they could to show the KRS as a modern
forgery, survives unblemished. Every person who knew Ohman said the
same thing; he was honest, he was honorable and he would not or could
not have carved the inscription, nor would he lie to his sons as part
of any conceivable activity he might be engaged in. And yet
this unlikely hoaxer got stuck with the reputation of perpetrating
a brazen fraud. How did it happen? What was the case against Olof
Ohman and the stone, and how did the notion of a hoax falsely perpetuate
itself for so long?
The case against the authenticity of the stone was primarily made
using linguistic arguments. It is not too far off the mark to suggest
that the way the linguists handled the case of the Kensington Runestone
provides a study of how not to approach a scientific anomaly. The
geological analyses of the stone have always supported its medieval
pedigree, with the geologists in question always adopting a wait
and see attitude toward the disputed runes. As we now know,
this was apparently the correct approach.
Thirty-two experts in Scandinavian linguistics have declared the Kensington
Runestone inscription fraudulent over the past 100 years. Ten of those
experts actually published papers and/or books about the stone. One
thing that helps explain their stunning collective failure is that
most of them hailed from the small, closed, conservative world of
European linguistics. When seen from this stodgy milieu, the stone
was nothing short of an outrageous affront. In addition, at the time
the stone was found, the linguistic study of medieval runology was
actually a fairly young science, and in many ways, woefully incomplete.
Looking back on it now, this is obvious, as the past 100 years have
seen developments in the field that, perhaps, could not have been
anticipated back then. For instance, old manuscripts have been continually
uncovered, yielding previously unrecognized medieval runeforms, words
and elements of grammatical style. There are still piles of medieval
writings that present-day scholars have not even been able to get
around to studying yet. However, in 1898, the most accomplished experts
of the day were at the pinnacle of their profession. And no stone
from America could tell them otherwise.
The Kensington Runestone contains 23 different runic letters (or runeforms),
which are used to write an inscription of 46 words and 7 numbers.
Eleven of the runeforms, and more than a dozen of the words, were
unknown to the experts of 1898. In addition, the numbers on the stone
failed to conform to the proper notation conventions as they were
then known. For these and other reasons, time and time again, the
case was made for fraud. Once the first couple of investigators had
proclaimed the stone to be a forgery (and they werent even experts,
see p.8 sidebar), it seems as if the taint of scandal became so intoxicating
to the academic community that the stone simply couldnt get
a fair hearing for the hysteria. Once it was known to
be a hoax, whole reputations and careers were made by trashing the
stone and its few defenders.
The way the Kensington Runestone, and Olof Ohman, became objects of
scorn says more about the psychological opposition to fresh ideas
than about the proper conduct of science. The way some of the experts
comported themselves, in the face of the unknown, does a disservice
to the ideals of the scientific method. Personal attacks took the
place of data collection. Sloppy scholarship and unreferenceable claims
became the order of the day. Invoking the experts took
the place of doing actual research. The general attitude toward the
Kensington Runestone was one of contempt, as evidenced by Professor
Jon Helgasons remark to Kensington Runestone debunker
Erik Moltke, which Moltke quoted in a 1951 article for Antiquity magazine:
In my opinion the inscription on the Kensington Stone is such
that no philologist with any self respect could in any decency write
about it. The stone posed an effrontery to these mens
sense of expertise, and Moltkes contempt for the stone was as
great as Helgasons. But rather than thrusting his nose up in
the air and ignoring it, as Helgason deemed to be the proper response,
Moltke expressed a more aggressive opinion as to how one should approach
the anomaly. There has been so much fuss made about this inscription
that a stop must be put to it, Moltke wrote.
Sloppiness and hubris pervade the quality of scholarship that the
stone has been subjected to through the years. In his zeal to put
a stop to it, Moltke resorted to some extremely heavy-handed
rhetoric, as when he wrote of the stone in 1949, See what an
abortion it uses as an a-rune. In addition, Moltke claimed that
the n-rune had gone out of use by 1100 and that was reason enough
to declare the Kensington Runestone a forgery. But the n-runeform
as shown on the stone was later discovered to have been in use well
into the 14th century, as documented by various scholars since J.E.
Liljegren found one in 1832. When this information became known, both
Moltke and another skeptic, Sven Birger Frederik Jansson, quietly
dropped it from their list of complaints. As for the a-runeform, it
is found on the Lye Church inscription from medieval times on the
island of Gotland.
So many of the runes, flatly declared to be impossible
in 1898, could have been found with a little research. The runes in
question simply hadnt made it to the runic dictionaries yet,
but they each existed in referenced works, and in principle, they
could have been found. Simply put, the Kensington Runestone was never
seriously studied by those most qualified to do so. It was merely
written off, when in reality, it had much to teach. It is hardly an
exaggeration to suggest that if the stone had been subjected to serious
scrutiny and authenticated in 1898, it would have advanced our knowledge
by 100 years in the fields of Scandinavian linguistics, runology,
history and the archeology of North America. As it stands, some doors
in these fields are only now beginning to open, but the keys have
been available for four generations.
A case in point: One of the most prominent Scandinavian linguistics
texts cited in the Kensington Runestone controversy was Old Swedish
Grammar with Inclusion of Old Gotlandic, published by Adolf Noreen
in 1904. Moltke, and others, heavily utilized Noreens text to
debunk the stone in a series of articles in various scholarly
journals. However, whereas Noreens book was a monumental
achievement for its day, according to Einar Haugen and Thomas
L. Markeys 1972 book The Scandinavian Languages: Fifty Years
of Linguistic Research (19181968), it has not been
reprinted since it first appeared and, as many texts not readily accessible
to Noreen and his readers have been published subsequently, it is
badly in need of revision.
Of course, in fitting with the overall pattern of the Kensington Runestone
story, Moltke became one of the prime experts invoked
by others as they dismissed the stone, even though he had used Noreens
outdated linguistic text from 1904 as the basis for his own conclusions
made as late as the 1950s. This is currently cause for no small degree
of embarrassment in scientific circles, as all of those who ever built
a house of cards against the Kensington Runestone, in part by citing
Moltkes (and others) expert work, now find
themselves on the wrong side of the issue, and their arguments hopelessly
Many of the claims made against the inscription on the stone appeared
in the form of unreferenceable claims, which often take the form of
something like, This word is impossible for the 14th century.
Stated authoritatively by an expert, this type of claim
appeared to carry weight, and inevitably became cited by others in
lieu of citing actual data. This is why Nielsens paper is considered
so significant. It represents the only comprehensive paper on the
language of the Kensington Runestone yet published in a serious professional
journal. Each claim is referenced, and each bit of data has been verified
by the reviewers.
When it was discovered that Ohman owned a couple of books that contained
runes, the experts went wild. Here was the clincher for them. The
books, each published in Stockholm in the late 1800s, were The
Well-Informed Schoolmaster by Carl Rosander and Swedens
History From the Earliest Time to Our Time by Oscar Montelius.
It was claimed that Ohman had used these books as the source material
for his hoax. However, as is the case with so many other arguments
leveled at Ohman and the Kensington Runestone, the accusation that
he used these books was never seriously investigated, but merely thrown
onto the pile of already-existing accusations. If the issue had been
seriously looked into, it could have been easily exposed as an impossibility.
The runes available to Ohman from the Rosander and Montelius books
account for only half of the runes on the stone. And of the remaining
runes, many of them were unknown to anyone in 1898; not just to the
uneducated farmer, but to the most educated Scandinavian linguists
in the world.
Then there is the case of the so-called deathbed confession.
While it has done much to prejudice the public against the stones
authenticity, it is quickly revealed to be the only real hoax of the
entire Kensington Runestone saga.
It seems that in the late 1800s there were some neighbors to the north
of the Ohman farm by the name of the Gran family. In 1967, Theodore
Blegen, one of the arch-nemeses of the stone, persuaded a nephew of
Walter Gran to do an audiotaped interview which became known as the
Gran tape. Gran was 4 years old when the stone was unearthed,
so he didnt remember much about those days. But he did manage
to spin a tale, on the taped interview with his nephew, about how
his father, John Gran, made a deathbed confession in 1927
(40 years before the interview). The confession allegedly
concerned Ohman forging the Kensington Runestone.
The story was published in 1976, in a series of articles in Minnesota
History by Russell Fridley, director of the Minnesota Historical
Society. The BBC even got in on the act when it used the confession
as part of a documentary about the Kensington Runestone hoax.
The trouble is, the spectacular deathbed confession is
John Gran was not on his deathbed when he allegedly uttered these
things. Walter Gran said that John Grans deathbed confession
happened in 1927, but John Gran did not actually die until 1933, six
years later. Some deathbed!
There is not even a confession: Walter alleged on the tape that his
father said, Go ask Ohman, and then when Walter did so,
Ohman said essentially nothing.
The so-called Gran tape contains nothing of scientific
value that bears upon the authenticity of the stone. Somehow the myth
of it has grown to include a deathbed confession, when really there
is only innuendo.
Compounding the issue, Walter Grans very truthfulness was not
given glowing endorsements by his friends and neighbors in subsequent
interviews with them. One of them said in a 1979 interview with Ted
Stoa of Fargo, N.D., I didnt take too much stock in what
Walter said at times. This same sentiment was echoed by Iona
and Einar Bakke in a 1995 interview conducted by Ove Pederson.
The Gran tape struck a particularly unscientific blow against the
authenticity of the stone. As the story blossomed, the unfinished
science of the stone became overshadowed with gossip.
The unknown runes, words, grammatical quirks, and numerical
notations of the Kensington Runestone have all since turned up in
medieval Scandinavian texts. What has been needed for some time, in
order to settle the issue, is for someone to put it all in one place
for the world to see. This has finally happened, and all of it has
been extensively documented. Nielsens article seems to sound
the death-knell on the case against Ohman and the Kensington Runestone.
Hanson also has played no small role in the authentication of the
stone, complementing Nielsens linguistic work with some impressive
scientific studies. Interestingly, of the scant few in the Kensington
Runestone debate who have come down on the side of the stones
authenticity, it was mostly those citing geological concerns. The
geologists looked at the stone and said, in effect, This things
ancient! Theres no way it could be a modern forgery! The
linguists never paid them any mind, and if they did it was to ostracize
them and to minimize the geological evidence. Geological considerations
have supported the stones great antiquity since N.H. Winchell,
state geologist of Minnesota, and others (including the state geologist
for Wisconsin) first examined the stone in the early 1900s.
Since that time, however, the linguists have dominated the debate
and successfully marginalized the issue of the stones geological
features. That is until Hanson came along and wondered: What has been
discovered upon examining the stone with a microscope? To his amazement,
he learned that no one had ever attempted it. For that matter, no
one had ever so much as recommended that this basic piece of science
Hanson realized that this represented a huge gap in the history of
the Kensington Runestone controversy, and got to work. First, he published
his recommendations for physical testing of the stone in the winter
2001 issue of the peer-reviewed history periodical Journal of the
West. Then, having been granted exclusive authority by the owners
of the stone to coordinate its scientific testing, Hanson contacted
various people in the fields of geology, chemistry and geophysics.
Work was initiated by Scott Wolter at American Petrographic Services
in St. Paul and continued at the University of Minnesota Department
of Geophysics, where an electron microprobe analysis was conducted
on parts of the surface of the stone. American Petrographic Services
oversaw the conducting of some scanning electron microscope work at
Iowa State University on the same samples. The investigations are
just beginning, but the initial results indicate that the original
geological assessments of the Kensington Runestone by Newton Winchell
in 1909 are correct. In other words, the stone is authentic, and it
had been in the ground many decades before Olof Ohman moved onto his
land near Kensington.
Skeptics Slow to React
Among longtime Kensington Runestone skeptics, the reaction to Nielsens
May 2001 paper (and its supporting evidence from Hansons testing)
has been slow in coming. There are rumors that some have started to
turn, and a couple of them have dug in their heels, but for the most
part, a great silence wafts over the critical landscape. What are
we to make of this silence?
Hanson is arguably in the best position to understand the skeptical
reaction, since his book, The Trial of Olof Ohman, examines every
skeptical word ever written about the stone. As Hanson sees it, part
of the problem in getting a quick reaction out of the 10 or so most
prominent Kensington Runestone skeptics is that Nielsens paper
went further in tracking down dozens of medieval source documents
than any scholars had ever done before. These documents include diplomas,
letters, law codes, and various legal and official documents. Hanson
explains, No one, living or dead, has ever studied or even is
aware of, in most cases, these critical documents. Without them one
has no basis to comment on the KRS language. And therefore,
it seems, no one is.
There is also the matter of the peer-review process, which has taken
the Kensington Runestone controversy to a new level. Much of the controversy
has played out over the years in popular books and magazine articles,
where assertions do not have to be rigorously double-checked and scrutinized.
By publishing in the peer-reviewed Scandinavian language journal Scandinavian
Studies, Nielsen now has the high ground. Reviewed by, among others,
Prof. Michael Barnes of University College (one of Europes foremost
experts in Medieval Scandinavian and runology and Secretary of the
Viking Society to boot), Nielsens paper essentially has the
blessing of some of the establishment. Before Nielsens paper,
it may have been a little easier to take potshots at the stone and
its defenders. But the playing field has changed, and the skeptics
must now find it necessary to go through a more rigorous process in
order to properly attempt an answer to Nielsens evidence. No
wonder the skeptical reaction has been muted. Scandinavian Studies
has put the paper on its Web site to elicit discussion.
The Kensington Runestone, ghettoized for so long, is officially playing
with the big boys.
The Tip of the Iceberg
What are the implications of an authenticated Kensington Runestone?
What new avenues of discovery have been blown open by this scientific
Whoever the carver was, he was part of an acquisition expedition
of eight Goths and 22 Northmen from the year 1362, smack dab in the
middle of the North American continent. The Goths would have been
from what is now western Sweden, and the Northmen could have been
from anywhere else in Scandinavia.
In his article in the Journal of the West, Hanson, building upon previous
work by Nielsen, speculates that the origin of the expedition may
actually be related to the strange disappearance of a settlement in
Greenland over 600 years ago: It is known that the Western settlement
in Greenland had a bad series of winters starting in 1308
1341, the settlement was discovered gone by Ivar Bardson, the bishop
at Gardar in the Eastern settlement. There was no sign of violence
or devastation; there were even some stray cattle roaming around.
Some 1,500 people simply left in their boats, with many of their possessions.
No one knows where they went, but it is suspected that these same
people regularly visited the Ungava Bay area for wood, caribou and
fish. They also probably were familiar with the Hudson Bay area, because
there is evidence that they were at the Chesterfield inlet for iron
and other parts of the Bay for polar bears and eider down. Based upon
the types of fur they are known to have, it is strongly suspected
that these Greenlanders traded with the natives of the region.
Travel up the Hayes or Nelson rivers would be quite possible for the
When asked to speculate further about the people who carved the stone,
Hanson explained that his guess is that they were from mainland
Europe but associated somehow with the Greenlanders that had migrated
from the abandoned Western colony.
There most likely was an
existing population of (the Greenlanders) in the area of the stone.
Other artifacts including two boat hulls have been reported in this
area, at approximately the 1,370-foot elevation.
is the same elevation as remnant shore erosion features at KRS hill
(water levels used to be higher in the area and KRS hill used to be
an island). I think they took their time doing the stone. The KRS
hill maybe was the home base. Hanson thinks that
other artifacts will be found in the vicinity of Kensington Runestone
hill and possibly to the east a few miles.
Is there any other existing evidence to support this new view of early
European penetration into North America? In addition to the reports
of actual ancient boat hulls mentioned above, there is a plethora
of hitherto unacknowledged artifacts that may soon be getting a second
look in the wake of the stunning resolution to the Kensington Runestone
For instance, there are the triangular holes of the Whetstone Valley
in South Dakota and many more in western Minnesota. These consist
of hundreds of unexplained triangular holes, 5 to 7 inches deep, in
large rocks all across western Minnesota and northeast South Dakota.
They do not appear to be blasting holes made by pioneers. Could they
be mooring holes?
There are also the so-called Chippewa Valley axes, periodically plowed
up out of virgin soil. Mostly in the hands of private collectors,
these ax-heads could represent medieval-era, hand-forged, precrucible
steel, and have no known counterparts in any mainstream American museum.
At any rate, they have never been properly identified or studied.
There are also what appear to be habitation sites, discovered two
or three feet underground via the remote sensing emitted infrared
technology developed by Marion Dahm of Chokio, Minn.
And lastly, of course, there are about half a dozen other runestones.
They are all smaller and less well-known than the Kensington Runestone.
But after what happened to Olof Ohman, is it any wonder that the discoverers
of these other stones might have chosen silence, instead of scrutiny?
Jim Richardson and
Allen Richardson are the brother team behind the RipSaws
weekly Gonzo Science column. Jim lives in Duluth and Allen
in Albuquerque, N.M. Their e-mail address is gonzoscience@
hotmail.com. Richard Nielsens paper, Response to Dr. James
Knirks Essay on the Kensington Runestone, is the first comprehensive
treatment of the language of the stone to be published in a peer-reviewed
journal. It may be downloaded as an Adobe Acrobat Reader file from www.byu.edu/sasslink/pdf/krs.pdf.