The Equestrian Revolution

I’ve written before about Ned Blackhawk’s outstanding book, The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History. Here’s more.

The title itself is revolutionary—“rediscovering” echoing and countering the decades of homage to Columbus for “discovering” America. And “unmaking history” indicating that we have that part wrong too. That the history we—our government offices, popular presses, and academic and popular historians—have made, is wrong.

Orthodoxy traces U.S. history to the New England colonies and their English origins. This makes our history is a continuation of European and especially Anglo history. Blackhawk stands this history on its head, putting Native Peoples at the center of five centuries of European invasion. And he starts not with the English, but with the Spanish and their invasion of Southwestern North America. And he shows that at each instance of European intrusion, Native America counters, parries, accommodates, fights, makes and breaks alliances, moves away from—voluntarily or by force, and dies with the scourge of European diseases.

(I cannot fathom why all the American history texts and classes of long ago missed this most devastating impact on indigenous people—maybe because we were busy tracing the actions and thoughts of white men, the successions of kings, queens, explorers, generals, admirals, and presidents to pay mind to the mundane roles of smallpox, malaria, viral influenza, yellow fever, measles, typhus, bubonic plague, typhoid fever, cholera, and whooping cough that killed more indigenous Americans than did all the warfare, the sieges, and purposeful starvations visited on them by the Euro-Americans.)

Forgive the digression. Before the Mayflower, before Washington, Jefferson, Adams and Franklin, the Spanish brought devastation to the Southwest. Santa Fe, the oldest state capitol in North America, was founded in 1610. And well before there was a United States, there was a successful Pueblo revolt. In 1680, under the leadership of the spiritual leader, Popé, several Pueblos rose up and leveled Spanish houses, churches, and towns. The government abandoned Santa Fe and for a dozen years the Indians struggled to remain united, and the Spanish struggled to regain traction. The revolution was never complete; not all the pueblos joined, and eventually and ironically the Spanish became protectors in a chaotic tribal world and regained Santa Fe in 1692. But what Blackhawk calls the “equestrian revolution” had begun.

“Surrounding Native nations that had once been entirely pedestrian now incorporated runaway, stolen, and traded horses into their societies. Before 1680 this transfer had been slow and gradual but afterward an equestrian revolution engulfed the region. None could have anticipated the far-reaching impacts… as worlds of Indigenous power increasingly stretched across the continent.” (Blackhawk, page 42)

One of my first lessons from Alvin Josephy in the 1970s was that the American government had broadcast to the world, through its State Department and the USIA—United States Information Agency—a picture of Native America that was a lie. Romantic yes, but the US icon of a Sioux Indian on horseback on the Great Plains led people to believe that Indians always had horses and that the Sioux—the Lakota—had always been on the Great Plains. Newer histories tell us that the Lakota started in the Great Lake region, and gradually moved across the country, gaining horses and guns along the way, until they were the most powerful tribe in the American heartland, controlling, for a time, the Mississippi and tributaries from its Minnesota source to the Gulf of Mexico—some 2300 miles!

The Pueblo, Navajo, Apache, Ute, Comanche, and Shoshone were early horse tribes, but we also see the Cheyenne, Arapaho, Crow, Gros Vent as horse cultures. And, in the Pacific Northwest, the Umatilla, Cayuse, and the Nez Perce as historic equestrian powers.

American Tribes and Tribal peoples took to horses as they did to no other European introduction. One cannot say or envision Comanche, Lakota, or Nez Perce without seeing horses. When one thinks about buffalo before their decimation for hides and bones, for starving Indians and for pure sport, one pictures horses and Indians with buffalo on the Great Plains. The Lakota horse power on the high plains; and, to the South, the Comanche did battle with other tribes and for a time ruled huge swaths of the country mounted on horses.

In the Northwest, Lewis and Clark marveled at Nez Perce horsemanship in 1805, and the Nez Perce 1200-mile five month fighting retreat just 72 years later is unimaginable without horses. Today among the Nez Perce, there is horse revival alongside language revival, and we see horses, like their riders, dressed in regalia.

The Nez Perce and their Plateau Tribal cousins see themselves as horse people. A recent article by a Comanche archeologist pushes that horse culture back before the Pueblo revolt. Even so, we are talking Indian horse history in the hundreds of years, not the fifteen or twenty thousand years—or more—that we now know Indian cultures have grown on these lands.

One wonders if there is some kind of genetic memory of earlier times, when horses did roam across North America. New world horses were reportedly smaller, and I’ve not heard any reports of them being ridden, but 10,000 years ago, or maybe as recently as 6,000 years ago, they were here.

I once read a Navajo quoted that his people knew horses in the past, and that the modern meeting of Native and horse was only picking up an older story.

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Photo: Native American Indians of the Columbia Plateau on horses in front of tipis, 1908. Gelatin silver print from a glass negative. Photo by Benjamin Gifford.

Measles

The recent upsurge in measles cases in Florida and the US in general has doctors and public health officials scratching heads. Apparently, there is a big difference in infection rates when the percentage of children who receive the MMR—Measles, Mumps, Rubella—vaccinations drops from 95 % to 91%; transmission among the unvaccinated spreads more rapidly, and a few—stats say 3 %–of the vaccinated still get a mild case of the disease. That, in my understanding is in a nutshell what is happening in Florida and threatening elsewhere as measles cases in 2024 rise.Read Rich’s Post →

The Last Indian War—Horses and Technology

Elliot West’s “The Last Indian War” was published in 2009, so it has been around. I’d not read it, but it was handy and I needed to check a date or name, so picked it up. And read a page or two. And decided I should read it. Read it because what West does is put the Nez Perce War in context of the Westward movement and US history.

We know that the War parties—Nez Perce and pursuing armies—moved through Yellowstone National Park. Some writers even tell us that it—Yellowstone—was a first, and that tourists were encountered and captured. But West tells us that yes, Yellowstone was the first National Park, and that it “reflected three powerful forces creating and defining the West.”Read Rich’s Post →

A Brief List of Books on Nez Perce History and Culture

I’ve put together lists of books on the Nez Perce several times over the years, but new books keep coming out, sometimes new books with “old” information not covered in previous books. Two wonderful examples in the current list are those edited by Dennis Baird, Diane Mallickan, and W.R. Swagerty, Encounters with the People, and the Nez Perce Nation Divided. Both deal with original written and oral accounts of the people in crucial years leading up to the 1863 “Liar’s Treaty.”

I won’t pretend to be exhaustive, to do a serious and complete bibliography of books on the Nez Perce. We have a dozen more on our library shelves and/or in the sales shop downstairs! Maybe someday.Read Rich’s Post →

“Side Channel”at Nez Perce Homeland

On Saturday, Indian elders helped dedicate the “side channel project” on the Nez Perce Homeland grounds in Wallowa. The Wallowa River, Nez Perce Fisheries workers told us, had been shoved to a side, channelized decades ago, probably in the 1940s and 50s, so that more land would be free for pasture and crops. This narrowed, straight flowing river has scoured the river bottom and eaten the banks, and in so doing destroyed places for fish to rest while migrating, and places for them to spawn. The side channel does not change the course of the main stem, but allows water to drift to and through some of the river’s old territory. In spring runoff, water will spill over the side channels and recreate marshlands, where tule and other native plants can grow. There have already been fish and lamprey in the side channel waters.Read Rich’s Post →

October 5; On this day…

October 5, 1877 is the day on which the wal’wá·ma band of the Nez Perce and members of other non-treaty bands lost their freedom. They’d intended to go quietly from the Wallowa to the reduced Idaho reservation, leaving and losing their homeland but continuing to live in nearby country among relatives from other bands. They crossed the Snake River into Idaho in spring runoff, and there the grief-stricken actions of some young Nez Perce in killing Idaho settlers—settlers known for their mistreatment of Indians—set off a fighting retreat of more than 1200 miles. It ended on this day 144 yeasr ago at the Bears Paw mountains in Montana, just 40 miles short of safety in Canada.Read Rich’s Post →

Learning to be a librarian

Learning to be a librarian

When Alvin Josephy started talking about leaving his books to Fishtrap all those years ago, I nodded and envisioned a nice addition to the Fishtrap house with shelves of books, a file cabinet or two, study carrels, and a stream of poets and historians pulling books off the shelves and making new poems and stories with their help. Over time, in conversations with Fishtrap friends and with a small grant from the Lamb Foundation, the vision gained an artist’s rendering (see top of the blog page) and an architect’s plans.

And then the real world and a recession hit, money from foundations that had seemed “ready” became impossible, and, eventually, I settled in to try to make sense of Library holdings, mission, and possibilities. I started learning to be a librarian, and envisioning the eventual physical home receded into some far off mist.

So now I wrestle with whether we finish cataloging books—or concentrate on papers and ephemera. And how do we make the information we have available? How important is a complete bibliography of Alvin’s work? And, most importantly, never mind the books—what do I do with Alvin Josephy’s legacy as historian and activist on behalf of American Indians? “Alvin, I thought you were leaving me a bunch of books, but all this?” I say to myself as he watches over my shoulder.

I talk about these things with writers, historians and library friends all the time. And just last week, had a nice meeting at Lewis and Clark College with Special Collections librarian Doug Erickson and friend Kim Stafford.

Doug’s office desk sits in a corner of the room that houses the William Stafford Collection. In the opposite corner there is an odd-shaped Plexiglas enclosure with a seat in it and wires running out of it to a stool-full of electronic gear. It was some kind of medical deal that Doug picked up on EBay for $150 and turned into a mini recording studio. Among other things, he records poets for his “Oregon Poetic Voices” project. I know a bit about that, because Fishtrap was an original partner, and you can go right to that site and hear Ursula LeGuin read poetry in 1990 at Summer Fishtrap. Try it: http://oregonpoeticvoices.org/

But the big aha moment for me in the talk with Doug and Kim is that libraries and archives are not just collections of old dusty stuff. They are things you work with now. And Doug says that Mitt Romney was right—rich folks get their words and ideas recorded all the time. Doug wants the poems your grandma wrote—or the ones you write.

Which takes me back to Alvin looking over my shoulder. He determined to write the Nez Perce book AFTER he found the Indian voices collected by an oddball Washington rancher named Lucullus McWhorter and published by another oddball, an old fashioned freedom of the press publisher from England who found his way to, of all places, Caldwell, Idaho, and founded Caxton Press. And published Yellow Wolf and Hear Me My Chiefs. http://www.caxtonpress.com/

In the twelve years it took to research and write The Nez Perce and the Opening of the Northwest, Alvin also found three remaining veterans of the Nez Perce War he could talk to, the Sohon drawings from the 1855 Walla Walla treaties, which were hidden away at the Washington State Historical Society, and other obscure stuff—revealed in the footnotes of the book (their omission the reason he always hated the abridged version of same)

So my next library project is to bring a real live archivist to town to train me and other volunteers in the ways of preserving these other voices against the time the next Alvin comes along.