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The Indians most closely associated with western Wyoming
were the
Shoshones. As a race, they are connected to the
Utes and
Piutes, who have settled to the south of them, but are of a higher
order of physical and mental development than these root-eating relations.
On the other hand, they are quite distinct from the
Arapahoes, their neighbors on the north, with whom they seldom
intermarry, as each looks down upon the other with true tribal pride and
prejudice. The Shoshone is more reticent and has been slower in following
the lead of the white man in accepting religious teaching, but he
possesses in a marked degree the virtues of sincerity and faithfulness.1
In appearance the
Shoshones are of medium height, supple and alert. Poligamy is common
among them, but they are, as a rule, true to their ideas of virtue. The
squaws are treated with good-natured indifference, and children are the
objects of great interest to men as well as women. When young, the women
are often graceful and comely, but they grow fat and shapeless with
advancing years. They are generally clothed in articles discarded by the
men, and present a shabby appearance, except for their lower limbs, which
are always neatly encased in leggins and moccasins. Hands and feet are
slender and well formed. They are skillful in bead work, and take pride in
decorating their papooses, as well as in lavishing much time on the
adornment of their lords and masters, whose bodies they paint yin
fantastic designs with mineral-colored clay. The hair of the men hangs
down in a thick braid on either side of the face, with a scalplock twisted
on the top of the head, through which an eagle feather is stuck. The
blanket is their favorite garment, but in every modern group may be seen a
great variety of clothing, ranging from overalls and cotton shirts to more
modish attire.
Besides bead work, the women excel in the painting of tanned hides, which
are often quite elaborate, depicting stories of the chase and other
adventures by means of simple illustrations most interesting to decipher.
Language and traditions point to the Hindu origin of the
Shoshones. The Supreme Being was to them "Our Father", instead of the
"Great Spirit", and death a pilgrimage to the land beyond the setting sun,
where they were to be incarnated into some other form of animal life,
according to the deeds done in the body. Their native custom was to wrap
their dead in skins and deposit them in caves or clefts between the rocks,
with a generous supply of material things for the journey into the
unknown. If the departed was a chief, many horses were killed for this
purpose. Mourning, consisting of from three to-five days of loud
lamentation, was a part of the funeral rites. Of late years they have
buried their dead, and an interesting part of the ceremony is a procession
around the open box or coffin, when all who wish well to the departed take
his hand in a last friendly clasp.2
It is the custom to put on the grave the tepee, bedstead or stretcher in
which the Indian died, and the Indian graveyard looks not unlike the
backyard of a junk shop.
Every three years there was a gathering of all the scattered bands of the
tribe at the Grand Encampment. It was an occasion for the hunting of game
and wise laws were en forced against killing more than could be used.
Buffalo was the favorite game. The chosen animal was first hamstrung by a
mounted Indian with a flat spear, and then killed by the huntsmen. Squaws
to the number of about fifteen gathered around and removed the hide first
from one side, from which they then cut the meat, and when . the body had
been turned over by horsemen by means of ropes attached to the feet, they
treated the other side in the same manner. The meat was cut up into thin
slices and taken to the wickiups to dry. When it had hung a few hours the
pieces were taken down and put between two stones and pounded until
tender, after which they were again hung up.3
The great religious festival of the Shoshones was the Sun Dance. The tribe
was called together about the 20th of June, and immediately began to
collect poles for the dance hall. After a large number had been gathered
they selected the longest and painted three black bands near the top.
These were called "wish rings". The pole was set up in the center of a
cleared space and other poles were set around. Branches of trees formed
the walls and the roof.
Those who coveted a special boon, whether health, success in battle, or
other gift of the Sun God sufficiently to enter this strenuous test of
physical endurance, assembled on the evening of the first day. Their
bodies were painted white, and in two ghastly processions they marched
twice in opposite directions around the hall. That night they rested, and
the next morning at sunrise, painted in bright colors, each man wearing a
beaded apron, a band of porcupine quills about either wrist from which
hung a rabbit's foot, and with a cluster of jingling bells attached to the
ankles, they reassemble. In one end of the hall sit the musicians, both
men and women, beating tom-toms and raising a monotonous chant. For three
days and nights, without food or drink, and with only short intervals of
rest, the dancers, with their eyes fixed upon the wish rings, move forward
and back, keeping time to the music. Each morning at sunrise the medicine
man raises his voice in a prayer song, the dancers approach the central
pole, rub their rabbit feet against the wish rings, and the dance is
resumed. At noon of the fourth day the din of the tomtoms gives place to
silence, and those who have not already been overcome by exhaustion
stagger from the hall.
At sunset came the feast, which had been prepared by the women, and there
was a time of great rejoicing. Gifts were exchanged, men giving away their
choicest possessions, horses, cattle, and even their wives. Such
prodigality often resulted in great suffering, until the government
stepped in and forbade the Sun Dance. A petition has been made on the part
of the Indians to allow it in the future, and they promise to be more
temperate, both as regards physical strain and gifts.
Another dance of the Shoshones was the Buffalo Dance, which was more like
a game. In this the women, attired in sagebrush aprons, played the part of
buffaloes. At a given signal they ran into the sagebrush, and the men
pursued them with shouts and hilarity. When all were captured they
returned to the tepees for a feast.4
The chickadee is revered among the Shoshones for its wisdom. The gopher,
on the other hand, is dreaded as an omen of ill luck. Their arch enemy is
a demon by the name of Nininbe, who is supposed to live in the mountains,
lying in wait to shoot them with invisible arrows, which are the source of
all their diseases. The Medicine Man makes use of the fear incited by this
evil spirit to exauIt his own power in counteracting its influence.
Fortunately, he often resorts to other remedies than incantations, such as
sweats, baths and poultices. Bandages soaked in strong sage tea are often
used in case of blood poisoning, and seem to have a beneficial effect.5
During Dr. Harrison's life in South Pass he had a thrilling experience in
Indian warfare. The Arapahoes were committing depredations around the
mining camps, and John Anthony, who had considerable ability as an
organizer, formed in each of the three mining camps, South Pass, Atlantic
City, and Miners' Delight, companies to march against them. On finding
that the Indians were gathered on the Wind River, they started out one day
in April. That night they camped on a small tributary of the stream and
about midnight were aroused by Indians, whom they succeeded in driving off
without bloodshed. The next morning they started in pursuit and overtook
the Indians on Wind River. There were about five hundred of them, and
Chief Black Bear was in command. A fight ensued in which both he and his
squaw were killed, and their two children, a girl of ten and a boy of
eight years of age, were taken captive. Captain Coolidge was in command at
Fort Brown, and he adopted the boy and gave him a good education. Under
the influence of Mrs. Coolidge the boy developed the desire to become a
Christian missionary to his people, and in the course of time he entered
the ministry of the Episcopal church. He married Miss Grace Weatherby, a
gifted and highly educated lady from New York City, and spent many years
on the reservation near Lander. He is now canon of St. John's Episcopal
Church at Denver, Colorado. The fate of the little girl was less
fortunate. She was taken to the home of a man in South Pass, who later
sold her to John Felter for $100. She was known in Evanston as Julia
Felter.
No name among the list of Shoshone Indians stands out so prominently as
that of Washakie, and it may be said that of all Indians he worked most
consistently for the good of his people. He was born in 1804, became chief
at the age of nineteen, and was the leader of his tribe for nearly eighty
years. They were the years of the greatest Indian troubles through which
the country ever passed, when the white men, often through force of
necessity, often from selfish motives, were steadily encroaching on the
hunting grounds of this once independent people. Of all mountain chiefs,
he alone could be relied upon to stand by his given word. Well did he
deserve the title bestowed upon him by General Conner, "The Friend of
Peace."
Washakie's mother bore his father four children, one girl and three boys,
all of whom, save Washakie, met an early death. In an interesting book
written by Elijah Nicholas Wilson, we learn many facts concerning the life
of the tribe and his particular family. The author ran away from his home
in Utah when a little boy, and was made a member of the Shoshone tribe.
Washakie became his adopted brother, and his mother gave him the place of
a son in her kind heart. He says Washakie was most considerate of his
mother, and heartily approved of the way the white boy strove to lighten
her burdens, but that he was powerless when it came to influencing other
boys to do likewise. Washakie had several wives, and a large number of
children to whom he was deeply attached. The tragic circumstances
connected with the death of his eldest son have made it celebrated in song
and story. In 1866 the tribe was returning from a buffalo hunt in the Big
Horn Basin, and on the Sweetwater they were attacked by Sioux, who had
followed them across the Shoshone trail. Washakie's men charged the enemy,
and while the chief was standing over the body of a Sioux whom he had
killed his eldest son, Nannanggai, rode up. The father taunted him with
cowardice, saying : "I, an old man, have killed this Sioux, and you, like
a squaw, come up after the fight." This so roused the youth that he
charged alone, and fell within sight of his father. The Shoshones say he
spent the night in mourning, and that when morning came his hair had
turned snow-white.6
The affairs of the tribe were in the hands of a council made up of its
wisest men, presided over by the chief. Next in importance seems to have
been the "war chief", who looked after the diplomatic relations with
outsiders. When word was brought by the Pocatello Indians that the whites
were about to make trouble because of the Shoshones keeping Dick Wilson,
it was this chief who conducted the negotiations resulting in the boy
going back to his parents. With a party of mounted Indians bearing buffalo
skins and furs, he set out on the beautiful horse that the Indians had
given him for Salt Lake. He was firmly resolved to return the next spring,
and meant to spend the rest of his life among the people who had been so
kind to him, but life had other things in store, and he never saw his dear
"old Indian mother" again.
Washakie was five feet ten inches in height, and was well built and
commanding in appearance. The similarity of his features to those of Henry
Ward Beecher has often been remarked. We are fortunate in having a variety
of pictures of him taken by our pioneer photographer, Charles Baker, and
these show him in all manner of dress, from the Indian war bonnet and
gorgeous blanket to the unlovely calico shirt and jeans. He was a familiar
figure on the streets of Evanston in the '70s. One summer day in 1875 a
band of his trecked into a vacant lot on the south corner of Center and
Seventh Streets. The braves were, as usual, mounted on well-kept Indian
ponies. The women had ridden on long poles covered with skins and blankets
that were fastened to either side of the horses, and they and the papooses
seemed no worse for their dusty ride. Washakie was the central figure and
attracted unusual interest because of his remarkable headgear. He wore a
wide-brimmed sombrero adorned with a surprising ornament of a silver
coffin plate, on which were engraved the words "OUR BABY". He had not
robbed a grave for it, but got it from the son of an Evanston furniture
dealer, who carried a supply of coffins, Enil Faust, to whom he had given
a bow and arrow in exchange.7
Washakie was a welcome guest in many homes. He possessed a natural dignity
that commanded respect. His disdain for the Arapahoes was shown in many
ways, one of which was the manner of greeting their chiefs. Instead of
shaking hands, as with an equal, he would coldly extend two fingers,
keeping the other fingers clenched, which was the Indian way of showing
distrust.8
Many are the stories told of Washakie. He was a personal friend of General
Grant, and was highly honored by all the army officers who knew him. Mr.
Baker tells of seeing him once in a stovepipe hat that had been presented
to him by President Arthur on a trip to Fort Bridger, where he met the
chief. It was adorned with eagle feathers, and the wearer consented to be
photographed in it, but unfortunately the film met with an accident, and
we have no copies of it. On one of Mr. Baker's visits to the tribe he
found Washakie in much anxiety over a son who was very ill. A medicine man
was in attendance, and his treatment when the youth lapsed into
unconsciousness was to spray the face with water squirted from his mouth.
As often as he succeeded in reviving the patient, Washakie presented him
with a pony. At the end of some hours the young man breathed his last, and
the medicine man went away richer by twenty horses.
Being a good Indian does not mean having the same standard as a white man.
When Washakie was called to account by United Sttaes officials for the
murder of his mother-in-law, he shrugged his shoulders and asked : "What
can do? She no mind me!"9
The family of Samuel Blackham of Evanston recall the excitement of a
dinner party at their home in which Washakie was the guest of honor. Mr.
Blackham could converse with the chief in his native tongue, and sat down
at the table with the party embracing the chief's three wives and several
children. Mrs. Blackham had prepared a fine chicken dinner, and she and
the little daughters, who shyly withdrew to the corners of the room,
watched with interest their strange guests. Washakie, who had picked up
many of the customs of the white men, plied his knife and fork with ease,
and sternly rebuked his family when they lapsed into the native custom of
using fingers. At the close of the meal to which the guests had done ample
justice, great was the surprise of the hostess to see them pack into bags
brought along for the purpose every scrap and crumb that was left on the
table. The failure to do this would have been in their estimation a slight
on the hospitality of the host.
There were many such interesting experiences, and vet to the residents
these summer visitors were not an unalloyed pleasure. The dusky faces
peeping in unexpectedly at open windows, the outstretched hands and the
demand for "cold bisikee, papoose hungry," were not to be disregarded with
safety. Mrs. Thomas Johnson, who lived in Almy in the early '70s, tells of
having to bake a great batch of small loaves of bread each day during
their long stay near their ranch, in order to supply the Indians as well
as her own family. One day she missed Jack, her three-year-old son, who
had been playing in sight of her kitchen window, and gazing anxiously down
the valley she descried a moving band of Indians. Looking more closely her
eye caught in the receding mass a patch of red which she identified as her
child's red waist. Mrs. Johnson was an expert with a gun, but without
stopping to get it she started on the run after the Indians. In telling
the story she said : "I was that mad that I could ha' killed three Indians
wi' my bare hands." She overtook them within a half mile, and they
sullenly handed back the little boy to his irate mother.
In the summer of 1872 a large band of Shoshones was encamped on Yellow
Creek, about three miles west of Evanston. There were more than a thousand
of them who had come in squads of twenty or more, their heavily loaded
tepee poles dragging behind the horses in the dust, and making a
well-marked trail over the hills. A man. by the name of Dick Blundell had
built a house on land he had taken up near the Almy wye. Toward sunset of
the day late in August as he was returning from town to his home, he
overtook a well-mounted Indian brave, and a good-natured debate arose as
to who had the better horse. It was proposed to settle the matter by a
race, and they set off neck and neck. On nearing his home Blundell
instinctively turned his horse in order to avoid a telegraph line that had
been strung between two poles to serve as a clothes line. The Indian,
ignorant of this obstruction, dashed into it, was caught by the wire just
below the chin, and fell to the ground with a broken neck, while his
frightened pony galloped on toward the camp.- A hasty glance convinced
Blundell that the red man was dead, and in fear that the Indians would
trace the fatality to his door and accuse him of murder, he made for town
as fast as his horse could travel. The news that a "big Indian" had been
killed spread quickly, and in fear that revenge might be taken on the
town, men gathered in groups to plan for resistance. Darkness settled over
all. Suddenly there rose on the evening air the plaintive notes of the
death song. Its shrill and piercing notes accompanied by the rythmic beat
of the tom-toms, gathered in strength and penetrated every nook and crany
in the valley, receding and advancing with the changing currents of air.
For hours it rose and fell, then came silence and the tenseness of
expectancy. Slowly the night passed, and when, in the light of early
morning, a reconnoitering party was sent out to Yellow Creek, they found
the ill-fated camping ground deserted. Whether the Indians surmised the
cause of the death of their companion was never known, but as far as the
white man was concerned there were no further results of the tragedy.
These wards of the government were allowed to ride free of charge on the
Union Pacific trains, and the platforms between cars were assigned to
them. It was a curious sight to see them peering out from their enveloping
blankets at the growing civilization that was slowly but surely
supplanting the wild life of their earlier days.
It may not be generally known that Evanston was once honored by a visit
from Madame Bernhardt. One summer afternoon in 1884 the train on which she
was traveling westward was tied up by a landslide, and the "Divine Sarah"
passed some very interesting hours near the station, not in her usual role
of entertainer but, for once, as the entertained. A group of Shoshone
braves beguiled the time by performing various stunts of lassoing and
riding, to the great delight of the tragedian.
In the courthouse in Evanston there is record of a treaty signed July 3,
1868, at Fort Bridger, which was at that time still part of Green River
County, Utah. It solemnizes the peace that was never broken between the
United States government on one side and the Shoshone and Bannock tribes
on the other. It assigns to the Indians their reservations and defines
their rights and duties, guarantees them schools, and specifies the
supplies to which they are entitled. Besides clothing and provisions each
roaming Indian was to receive $10 a year, and those engaged in agriculture
$20. Among their rights was that of hunting "on the unoccupied lands of
the United States so long as game may be found thereon, and so long as
peace subsists among the whites and Indians on the borders of the hunting
districts." This clause is worth remembering, because of its bearing on
the future history of the Indians in Wyoming and the country in general.
It is signed by N. G. Taylor, W. T. Sherman, Lt. Gen'l and five
commissioners for the United States, and by Washakie, his (X) mark,
Waunipitz, his (X) mark, and six other Shoshones, and by a like number of
Bannocks. J. Van Allen Carter was the interpreter.
By this treaty the Wind River Reservation was given to these two tribes.
In 1871 trouble between the Shoshones and the Bannocks resulted in the
latter being removed to the Fort Hall Reservation. The Arapahoes were
allowed by the Shoshones to share the land with them, and although they
had been traditional enemies, they have lived side by side in peace.
The year of this treaty saw also the signing of the treaty between the
United States and the Sioux nation, but instead of a Washakie, that had to
deal with the treacherous Sitting Bull and Red Cloud, and its culmination
was the Custer massacre in 1876.
Washakie was buried with military honors on the Wind River Reservation and
his grave was marked by a massive granite slab. He will always be
remembered as an example of fearless rectitude, and as one of nature's
noblemen.
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Bishop Talbot, "My People of the Plains."
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Marion Roberts, in Wyoming Churchman, 1917.
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Wilson, "Uncle Nick Among the Shoshones."
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Morris, "Wyoming Historical Collection," Volume
1.
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Wilson, "Uncle Nick Among the Shoshones."
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J. A. Breckens, "Wyoming Historical Collections,"
Vol. 1.
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The author was an eye witness to this scene.
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Dr. Harrison.
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Judge Gibson Clark
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