INDIAN—PIONEER CONFLICT AND THE STORY OF ISHI
Conflict—prolonged, tragic, and violent—flared during the period when
Europeans wrested control of North America from the native Indian. In
viewing the struggle between Indian and white man, feelings run high
even today.
What was it when Custer’s contingent was wiped out?—when the Modocs
inflicted such heavy losses on the American troops?—when the Navajo,
Sioux, and others made their devastating raids on wagon trains and
pioneer settlers? These were just as much a part of the war as were the
exploits of Rogers’ Rangers, the indiscriminate slaying of Indian men,
women, and children in the Yahi caves on Mill Creek, and the
annihilation of large segments of Atsugewi and Yana tribes cornered at
points northwest of the present Lassen Volcanic National Park area. War
is never a pretty thing. Was the hit and run killing of white people by
Indians any less defensible morally than white man’s atrocities against
the Indians, or, for that matter, than commando raids and atomic
bombings of today? Our viewpoint on such matters in the past has all too
often been that might makes right, since we have always been on the
winning side. Until very recently we have followed the biased opinion of
the colonists and pioneers of these United States: whenever we won, it
was a glorious and righteous victory, but if the Indian emerged
victorious, it was regarded as a dastardly massacre. It is a viewpoint
readily understandable where a person’s loved ones are involved—but not
justifiable.
Our veterans of recent wars will vouch for the fact that white man’s
wars can be primitive and violent when life and limb are at stake. We
are hardly in a position to criticize the “cruel and sneaking” fighting
methods of the Indians. Was it not use of Indian fighting methods which
was so valuable to us in defeating the British in the colonial war for
independence?
Indians fought in the only way they knew—and a disheartening losing
fight it was for them with bows and arrows against rifles. For each gain
in weapons and technical know-how the Indians made, the whites made
many. True, it cost Americans much in the way of lives, anguish, and
money, but how small were these losses in comparison to those of the
Indians. American Indians, the undisputed owners of this continent for
thousands of years, were not only nearly exterminated, but in the end we
took virtually all of their land by force and with it took away the
means of self support as well without “due process of law”. We denied
the Indian the right of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness”—the very things for which we as a nation stand. In all
fairness, however, it should be stated that in recent years modest
monetary retribution has been made by the U.S. Government to some of the
surviving descendants.
S. F. Cook has pointed out that Spanish contact with California Indians
was a rather passive matter. Spanish penetrated deeply, but did not
settle on Indian lands of appreciable size. The Spanish were present in
small numbers, a population numbering perhaps 4,000 by 1848. To be sure
there was occasional bloodshed, but it was the exception in Spanish
California rather than the rule, for the Spanish regarded Indians as an
asset, a human resource which provided labor and even some food and
materials. The Indians were a respected element in the social and
economic structure of Hispanic California, having civic and legal
rights. Even under the Spanish, was there a great reduction of the
Indian population through limited warfare and displacement, but much
more importantly through disease. Nevertheless, by 1845 a more or less
satisfactory equilibrium seems to have evolved between the Spanish and
the California Indians.
In contrast the hordes of white immigrants who followed considered the
Indians entirely useless and there was no place for the latter in the
pioneers’ economy of material wealth. All good lands were taken from the
Indians arbitrarily and as quickly as possible. However, it must be
stated that there were exceptions to both the Spanish and Gringo
relations with the California Indians, but, in general, the foregoing
statements are accurate.
How the conflict of pioneer versus Indian affected the Atsugewi is
summarized for us by Garth as follows:
“The Atsugewi, because of their somewhat secluded mountain habitat,
were spared contact with white civilization until the middle of the
nineteenth century. Although there were vague reports of contact with
Spanish explorers or Mexican bandits, these could not be verified.
Peter Skene Ogden may have been the first white man to visit the area
(1827-1828). Besides the trappers, Fremont, Greenwood, and other
explorers probably skirted Atsugewi country. Peter Lassen passed
through Achomawi-Atsugewi country in opening the Pit River Route of
1848. He was soon followed by a stream of white migration from the
east which was devastating to the Indians and their culture.
Prospectors entered the Lassen region in 1851, and not long afterward
came white settlers. By about 1859 the Indians were felt to be a
menace to the whites in the area and were rounded up by militia and
taken to the Round Valley Indian Reservation. Unsatisfactory
conditions at the Reservation caused most of them to leave in 1863 and
return to their old haunts along Hat Creek and Dixie Valley.
“Joaquin Miller reports an uprising in 1867 of the Pit River and Modoc
Indians, who had made up old differences and were now fighting
together. A number of whites were massacred. Miller speaks of an
Indian camp being made on Hat Creek in the war that followed. It is
not thus improbable that the Atsuge participated in that war. After a
year or so of fighting the Indians suffered a final crushing defeat
and surrendered. This last engagement may be the one at Six Mile Hill,
spoken of by informants, in which a large number of their people were
cornered in a cave and massacred by soldiers. After this, many of the
Indians were again removed to Round Valley. Those remaining and some
who subsequently returned from the Reservation maintained friendly
relations with the whites. Today most Atsugewi live on allotments in
their old territory, the younger Indians often working for their white
neighbors or for the lumber mills. The census of 1910 gives a
population of 240 for ‘Hat Creek Indians’. This figure may also have
included the Dixie Valley Atsugewi, since they are not mentioned in
the census. The present population is probably half that or less.”
The Maidu also were decimated upon contact with white man. However, with
only rare exception, Maidu accepted rather passively invasion of their
territory with the attendant driving away of game and destruction of
fish in the streams by mining operations in gold rush days. However,
since the remnants of the Maidu were in the way of white mans’
developments, treaties were made in 1851 by which these Indians gave up
all claims to their ancestral lands and were taken to short lived
reservations in Amador, Nevada and Butte Counties, also later to the
Round Valley Reservations in the Coast Range. A great many Maidu soon
returned to their homes. In the late 50’s and 60’s a desultory war was
waged on the Maidu by California State troops which further reduced the
number of surviving Indians of this tribe.
The management of the University of California’s excellent informative
“UNIVERSITY EXPLORER” radio program series has given permission to quote
the following from its broadcasts. This material concerns the conflict
of the closely related Yana and Yahi tribes with the whites and the
fabulous story of Ishi. The script has been abridged and considerably
rearranged:
“... The Yana way of life was a strange one to the white observer, but
the tribes prospered under it until white emigration from the East
threw them into conflict with a new and unfriendly people. The
Indians, of course, resented the white incursion and revolted against
it. That happened in all sections of the country where whites
displaced Indians, but it would be hard to imagine a more inept way of
handling the situation than that used by the white men in the
Sacramento Valley. Some of the large land owners protected the Indians
of their holdings; among them were General John Bidwell, one of the
founders of Chico, (Peter Lassen on his Rancho Bosquejo between Mill
and Deer Creeks), and John Sutter, on whose property the Gold Rush
started. But they were exceptions. Most of the settlers apparently
believed the only way to handle the natives was to compete with them
in cruelty. One celebrated Indian-killer took great pride in a blanket
he had made from Indian scalps. The whites had learned scalping from
the Eastern Indians, but they themselves popularized it in
California....
“The Indians often plundered settlers’ cabins and stole livestock.
This was natural, since they regarded the whites as invaders.
Unfortunately, the settlers’ retaliation frequently consisted of
rounding up a gang of Indians and slaughtering them. And it didn’t
make too much difference whether they were the guilty Indians.
Professor Waterman wrote that the Yahi expressed their resentment of
the white men more violently than did the other Yana groups, but since
the Yahi moved around more and displayed greater skill in hiding out,
quite innocent groups of Indians often took the blame for the acts of
the Yahi. Professor Waterman cited the case of one white posse which
took to the trail following a series of Indian raids. The posse came
upon an encampment of Indians and shot about forty of them. But the
Indians had been camped in the same place for two nights, and the
whites later found a couple of almost-empty whiskey barrels there. It
doesn’t stand to reason, Professor Waterman pointed out, that Indians
skilled in warfare would be so careless after an attack on their
enemies.
“As the animosity between white men and red men grew, the atrocities
on both sides became revolting. White women and children were tortured
and killed by the Yana. But the anthropologists who have studied this
unpleasant phase of California history believe the whites invited such
savage assaults by their own brutal mistreatment of the Indians.
“... The Yana gradually took to the woods as it became obvious that
they were being outnumbered and decimated by the settlers in one
massacre after another. By the late 1860’s the Indians had been
reduced in numbers and intimidated to the point where they no longer
could be considered a serious menace to the people who had taken over
their hunting grounds. By then the Indians’ crimes were more on the
level of petty theft than major violence. The three Yana tribes had
become almost extinct as social organizations, but a fair number of
Yana-speaking individuals survived long after the turn of the century.
“With the Yahi tribe, however, it was a different story. For a long
time the Yahi—then called the Mill Creeks, because area around that
little stream was their principal hunting ground—for a long time, the
Yahi were believed to have been wiped out in a final massacre in
1865.... In 1871, a group of cattle-herders in Tehama County found a
spot where Indians apparently had wounded a steer. The whites used
dogs to follow the steer’s bloody trail, and cornered some thirty
Indians in a hillside cave. They promptly slaughtered the Indians,
including several children. The settlers’ peculiar idea of mercy was
pointed out by Professor Waterman’s informant, who noted that one of
the cattle-herders could not bear to kill the children with his .56
caliber rifle—‘it tore them up so bad’ he said. So he did it instead
with a .38 caliber revolver.... They call the rock shelter Kingsley
Cave after Norman Kingsley, the settler who ... supposedly ... shot
the Indian children. The Kingsley Cave site was apparently used for a
long time. Grinding tools of two different cultural periods were found
... (by University of California Archeological Survey staff
excavations currently investigating the site).
(The Yahi were thought to have been completely wiped out by this last
unjustified atrocity, but in 1908) “... surveyors for a power company
in the hilly country around Deer Creek reported they had caught a
glimpse of a naked Indian standing poised near the stream with a
double-pronged primitive fishing spear. Next day, other members of the
party were startled when an arrow came whistling through the
underbrush at them—a stone-tipped arrow like those used by the
supposedly extinct Indians. The surveyors kept on pushing ahead, until
they came upon a cleverly concealed camp in the tangled woods. There
they found a middle-aged woman and two aged and feeble Indians, a man
and a woman. The old woman, hiding under a pile of rabbit skins,
apparently wanted water, and the surveyors gave her some after the old
man and the other woman had hidden in the underbrush. The surveyors
also carried off all the blankets, bows and arrows and other articles
in sight; but when they returned next day to make some sort of
restitution, the Indians had disappeared. They were never seen again,
even though the University later sent anthropologists in search of
them....
“... with the dawn of a clear August day in 1911.... The butchering
crew of a slaughterhouse near Oroville were awakened ... by a furious
barking of the dogs at the corral. They rushed into the corral to find
a man crouching in the mud, surrounded by the slaughterhouse shepherd
dogs. The butchers called off the dogs to get a closer look at their
guest—and a most unusual guest he was.
“The man’s only clothing was a piece of torn, dirty canvas across his
shoulders. His skin was sunburned to a copper brown, his hair was
clipped close to the skull, and he obviously was suffering from severe
malnutrition. His body was emaciated and his cheeks clung to the bones
to accentuate his furiously glaring eyes.
“But the strangest thing about this man was his speech. It was like
nothing the butchers had ever heard.... The sheriff tried English and
Spanish, then several Indian dialects. But he was unable to draw any
intelligible response from his prisoner. For lack of a better place to
put him, the sheriff locked him in the jail cell reserved for mental
cases, even though the man from the slaughterhouse appeared to be more
lost than insane.
“The ‘Wild Man of Oroville’ made good newspaper copy, and clippings
about his mysterious discovery caused much excitement in the
department of anthropology at the University of California. It was a
good thing that the news reached the University when it did. The
frightened wild man was cowering in his cell, refusing to accept food
from his captors whom he obviously distrusted, while the sheriff
vainly tried to identify him.
“The late Professor T. T. Waterman was especially excited. So excited,
in fact, that he stuffed a few clothes in his suitcase, quickly picked
out a list of words from the files on California Indian languages, and
caught the first train to Oroville for an interview with the prisoner.
“The reason for Professor Waterman’s excitement was that he believed
the Oroville prisoner was a Yahi Indian. If this guess was correct,
Waterman would have a major anthropological find. For anthropologists
are concerned with origins, development and variegated cultures of
mankind; and if the frightened prisoner in Oroville turned out to be a
Yahi, Professor Waterman and his colleagues would have a living
encyclopedia of the language, customs, and habits of a people who were
believed to be extinct ... he might be one of the little band reported
at Deer Creek (in 1908), perhaps the man with the fishing spear.
“The task of determining whether the prisoner was Yahi was complicated
by the fact that no one knew the Yahi language. This doesn’t sound
like an insuperable stumbling block, until you remember that the
California Indian languages were numerous and distinct; there were
over one hundred dialects, many of them mutually unintelligible. These
dialects were classified into eighteen major language groups, which in
turn made up six entirely different language families. These six
language families apparently are completely unrelated—a strange
circumstance, when you consider that almost all of the languages of
Europe can be traced to common origins.
“However, Professor Waterman was fortunate in one respect. A fairly
extensive word-list had been collected from the dialect of the Nozi
Indians who had once lived just to the north of the Yahi and were
their nearest relatives. Both the Yahi and the Nozi belonged to the
Yana language stock, which stemmed from the widespread Hokan family.
So Professor Waterman relied on Nozi words to make the identification.
“At first, the prisoner in Oroville seemed as frightened of Professor
Waterman as he had been of all the other white men. Patiently, the
anthropologist proceeded through his list of Nozi words, but the
captive Indian apparently recognized none of them. At last, though,
the professor pointed to the wooden frame of the Indian’s cot, and
pronounced the word ‘si’wi’ni,’ which according to his list meant
‘yellow pine’. Immediately, the Indian relaxed. His harried, unhappy
look turned to beaming good cheer, and he acted as if he had found a
long-lost friend. Pointing to his cot, he repeated Professor
Waterman’s word ‘si’wi’ni’ several times, as if agreeing that, yes,
his cot was yellow pine. His own language differed from that of the
Nozi, but some of the vocabulary was the same. Professor Waterman had
struck upon one of the right words; later, he pronounced more familiar
words, and it was established that the Indian was a Yahi. He also
managed to explain that he called himself ‘Ishi’, which meant simply,
‘I am a man’.
“Professor Waterman was naturally elated with his new-found
acquaintance. The Butte County sheriff was equally elated to be rid of
his difficult charge, so Ishi was taken to the Museum, then located in
San Francisco, for further study and interrogation.
“Thus it happened that this human relic of the Stone Age came to live
at a modern university. The Regents of the University gave Ishi some
official status by appointing him an assistant janitor at $25 a month.
But his value to the University did not come from dexterity with a mop
and broom; he was valued because he could tell the anthropologists
about his people, preserving knowledge which otherwise would have died
with his fellow-tribesmen.
“Ishi adapted himself well to this new life, and he was a friendly and
popular fixture at the museum for five years. He picked up the white
man’s ways by watching the people around him; at his first civilized
dinner, he imitated his hosts’ motions and managed a knife and fork
far more skilfully than most of us can handle chopsticks in a Chinese
restaurant. He was delighted and awe-stricken by many of the
developments of civilization; but the things that impressed him most
were not what the anthropologists had expected. Electric lights,
airplanes, and automobiles made little impression; they were
completely beyond his range of experience, and he dismissed them as
‘white man’s magic’, worthy of little attention. The tall buildings in
downtown San Francisco did not startle him; as he explained, his own
country had cliffs and crags just as high. But what really amazed him
about the city were the enormous crowds of people on the streets. He
had seen people before, of course, but never more than twenty or
thirty in one place.
“In general, the things that Ishi considered most remarkable were
things which approached something in his own experience. He knew how
hard it was to start a fire by friction, so pocket matches were indeed
a wonder. Water faucets which could be turned on and off were likewise
marvelous; why, the white man could make a spring, right there in the
house! One of the first modern devices to catch Ishi’s babbled
attention was an ordinary window roller shade. He tried to push it
aside, but it flipped back; he lifted it, but it fell down. Finally
someone showed him how to give it a little tug and let it roll itself
up, and Ishi was amazed. A half-hour later, he was still trying to
figure out what had happened to the shade.
“Ishi and his hosts learned to communicate with each other fairly
adequately; he never became accustomed to formal grammar, but he
picked up a vocabulary large enough to express his wishes and his
comments about the things around him. Actually, the anthropologists
admitted, Ishi learned to speak English far better than any of them
were able to learn Yahi. They suspected that some of his vocabulary
was acquired from the school children who used to visit him, for it
included a fair sampling of most unacademic slang.
“There were some things Ishi didn’t like to talk about—the death of
his relatives and the last horrible years around Deer Creek before he
wandered to the Oroville slaughterhouse—were subjects he found too
painful. Besides, there was a tribal taboo against mentioning the
names of the dead. His close-cropped head, incidentally, was the
result of burning off his hair in mourning for his mother and sister,
in accordance with tribal custom.
“But the knowledge which Ishi passed on was rich and varied.... Among
the contributions for which Ishi is remembered are some of the finest
arrowheads and spear tips in existence; he made these for the
University Museum both of modern bottle glass and from the natural
materials.... In fact, Ishi was the source of almost all that is known
of Yahi life. He gladly described the customs of his people, and he
enjoyed chipping out Stone Age weapons and showing how they were used.
With primitive drawings, he tried to tell the story of the massacre
which wiped out most of his tribe....
“Ishi’s own life ended in March 1916, when he died of tuberculosis. He
was then believed to be in his 50’s. Those who knew him at the
University considered his death a great loss—not only because of what
he had contributed to anthropology, but because he had a natural
friendliness and dignity which made him a beloved personality.
Professor A. L. Kroeber once told me: ‘The manner in which he
acquitted himself, both from the scientific and social points of view,
was so admirable that everyone who chanced to meet him counted it a
privilege to be his friend’. And Ishi had the comforting knowledge
that his departure from this earth would not be a completely alien
one. Because he had passed on the elements of his culture, it was
possible to bury him with all the ceremony of his own people. His bows
and arrows were laid beside him, and some bowls of food were placed in
the grave so he would not grow hungry on his long journey to the Happy
Hunting Ground....
“Ishi was not only the last survivor of the Yahi ... but he was also
believed to (have been) the last representative of the Stone Age in
the United States.”
While not apropos to the subject of this chapter, “Pioneer Conflict...”
we digress with some quotations from Pope’s “Medical History of Ishi” to
give the reader a better understanding of this last of the Mill Creek
Indians, his character, and his beliefs.
“... Ishi himself later made the statement that he was not sick but
had no food. White men had taken his bow and arrows; game was scarce,
and he had no means of procuring it. He had strayed from his usual
trail, between Deer Creek and ... Lassen (Peak). The railroad on one
side and a large river on the other kept him from making his way to
the refuge of the hills. His fear of trains and automobiles seems to
have been considerable in those days.
“Upon being captured, Ishi, according to his own account, was
handcuffed, confronted by guns and pistols, and intimidated to such an
extent that he vomited with fear....
“About this time (fall, 1912) I became instructor in surgery in the
University Medical School, and thus came in contact with the Indian.
“From the first weeks of our intimacy a strong friendship grew up
between us, and I was from that time on his physician, his confidant,
and his companion in archery....
“The Museum (of Anthropology) is near the Hospital, and since Ishi had
been made a more or less privileged character in the hospital wards,
he often came into the surgical department. Here he quietly helped the
nurses clean instruments, or amused the internes and nurses by singing
his Indian songs, or carried on primitive conversation by means of a
very complex mixture of gesture, Yana dialect, and the few scraps of
English he had acquired in his contact with us.
“His affability and pleasant disposition made him a universal
favorite. He visited the sick in the wards with a gentle and
sympathetic look which spoke more clearly than words. He came to the
women’s wards quite regularly, and with his hands folded before him,
he would go from bed to bed like a visiting physician, looking at each
patient with quiet concern or with a fleeting smile that was very
kindly received and understood.
“ISHI’S MEDICAL BELIEFS”
“Women—Ishi had many of our own obsolete superstitions regarding
women. One criticism he made of white man’s civilization was the
unbridled liberty we give menstruating women. The ‘Sako mahale’, as he
designated them, were a cause of much ill luck and sickness. They
should be in seclusion during this period. In fact, he often commented
on the number of sick men that came to the hospital. I asked him what
he thought made so many men sick. He said it was ‘Sako mahale, too
much wowi (houses), too much automobile,’ and last but most important
of all, the ‘Coyote doctor’, or evil spirit.
“Dogs—Playing with dogs, and letting them lick one’s hand, Ishi said
was very bad. He assured me that to let babies play with dogs this way
led to paralysis. It is interesting to note that Dr. R. H. Gibson of
Fort Gibson, Alaska, has reported the coincidence of poliomyelitis
among the Tanana Indians and the occurrence of distempers in dogs.
“Rattlesnakes—Ishi’s treatment for rattlesnake bite was to bind a toad
or frog on the affected area. This is interesting in the light of the
experiments of Madame Phisalix of the Pasteur Institute, who
demonstrated the antidotal properties of salamandrin, an extract
obtained from salamander skin, and the natural immunity that the
salamander has to viper venom. Macht and Abel have obtained a similar
powerful alkaloid from the toad _Bufo nigra_, called bufagin, which
has some of the properties of strychnin and adrenalin. It has been
used as an arrow poison by South American aborigines. Experiments
which I conducted with salamandrin as an antidote to crotalin, show
that it has a pronounced protective and curative value in the
immunization of guinea pigs and in their cure after being bitten by
the rattlesnake. It is, however, too dangerous and potent a poison
itself to be of any practical value.
“When out camping we killed and cooked a rattlesnake or ‘kemna’. Ishi
refused not only to taste it, but also to eat from the dishes in which
it had been cooked. We ate it, and found that it tasted like rabbit or
fish. Ishi expected us to die. That we did not do so he could only
explain on the grounds that I was a medicine man and used magic
protection.
“Moon—Ishi held the superstition common among uneducated Caucasians,
that it is unwholesome to sleep with the moon shining on one’s face,
so he covered his head completely under his blankets when sleeping in
the open.
“Hygiene—Ishi had wholesome notions of hygiene. When out hunting he
has several times stopped me from drinking water from a stream which
he thought had been contaminated by dwelling houses above.
“His residence in the Museum caused many misgivings in his mind. The
presence of all the bones of the dead, their belongings, and the
mummies were ever a source of anxiety to him. He locked his bedroom
door at night to keep out spirits. When we stored our camping
provender temporarily in the Museum bone room, Ishi was not only
disgusted but genuinely alarmed. It was only after the reassurance
that the ‘bunch a mi si tee’ could not enter through the tin of the
cans that he was relieved.
“Surgery—On some of his visits to the University Hospital, Ishi gazed
through the glass-panelled door of the operating room and watched the
less grewsome scenes therein, wondering no doubt what was the meaning
of this work ... and his questions afterward, though few and
imperfectly understood, showed that he marveled most at the
anaesthetic and that he debated the advisability of such surgical
work.
“Once he saw me remove a diseased kidney. He viewed the sleeping man
with deep wonder. He seemed interested at the methods we employed to
prevent hemorrhage. For days afterwards he asked me if the patient
still lived, and seemed incredulous when I said he did. When he saw an
operation for the removal of tonsils he asked me why it was done. I
told him of the pain and soreness which was indicative of disease, and
necessitated the operation. He conveyed to me the information that
among his people tonsillitis was cured by rubbing honey on the neck,
and blowing ashes down the throat through a hollow stick or quill; no
operations were necessary.
“The only surgical operation with which he seemed familiar was
scarification. This was accomplished by means of small flakes of
obsidian and had as its purpose the strengthening of the arms and legs
of men about to go out on a hunt.
“Herbs—His own knowledge of the use of medicinal herbs was
considerable, as we learned later when he went back to Deer Creek
canyon with us on a three weeks’ camping trip, here he designated
scores of plants that were of technical, medicinal, or economic value.
But he put very little faith in these things. The use of herbs and
drugs seems to have been the province of old women in the tribe.
“There was a hole in the septum of his nose which he had used as a
receptacle for a small piece of wood, as well as for holding
ornaments. When he had a cold he placed in this spot a twig of baywood
or juniper, and indicated to me that this was medicine. It served very
much with him as menthol inhalers do with us. Its influence was
largely psychic but agreeable.
“Magic—The real medicine was magic. The mysteries of the k’uwi, or
medicine man, were of much greater value than mere dosing. Their
favorite charms seem to have been either blowing of smoke and ashes in
certain directions to wield a protective or curative influence, or the
passing of coals of fire through themselves or their patients by means
of sleight of hand. They also sucked out small bits of obsidian or
cactus thorns from their clients, averring that these were the
etiological factors of sickness.
“The principal cause of pain, according to Ishi, was the entrance of
these spines, thorns, bee stings, or, as he called them, ‘pins’, into
the human frame. The medicine man sucked them out, or plucked them
while they were floating in the air in the vicinity of the sick man.
They were then deposited in a small container, usually made of the
dried trachea of a bird, or of a large artery. The ends of this tube
were sealed with pitch or some form of a stopper and the whole thing
taken possession of by the doctor, thus keeping the ‘materia morbosa’
where it could do no further harm.
“The fact that I was able to do sleight of hand: vanish coins, change
eggs into paper, swallow impossible objects at will, and perform
similar parlor magic, convinced Ishi that I was a real doctor, much
more than any medication or surgery at my command. He came,
nevertheless, to our clinic whenever he had a headache, or a bruised
member, or lumbago, and accepted our services with due faith.
“ISHI’S PERSONAL HABITS”
“Sleep—... he slept between blankets in preference to sheets. He had
several flannelette nightshirts but he preferred to sleep naked....
“Clothing—... At first he was offered moccasins, but refused to wear
them. He wanted to be like other people. Usually he wore a bright
colored necktie and sometimes a hat, when he was going down town ...
cotton shirts and (cotton) trousers were his choice. He used a pocket
handkerchief in the most approved manner, and because of his frequent
colds he needed it often.
“Modesty—Ishi, strange to say, was very modest. Although he went
practically naked in the wilds, and, as described by Waterman, upon
his first appearance in Deer Creek Canyon he was seen altogether nude,
nevertheless, his first request after being captured was for a pair of
overalls. He was quite careful to cover his genitalia; when changing
clothes, assumed protective attitudes, and when swimming in the
mountain streams with us wore an improvised breech clout even though
his white companions abandoned this last vestige of respectability.
“Toilet—When well he bathed nearly every day, and he always washed his
hands before meals. He was very tidy and cleanly in all his personal
habits. When camping, he was the only man in our outfit who got up
regularly and bathed in the cold mountain stream every morning.
“Ishi was an expert swimmer.... He used a side stroke and sometimes a
modified breast stroke, but no overhand or fancy strokes; nor did he
dive. He swam under water with great facility and for long distances.
The rapids of Deer Creek were rather full yet he swam them, and
carried my young son hanging to his hair.
“When he was sick he resented being bathed except when ordered by the
nurse or doctor. Like many other primitive people, he considered
bathing injurious in the presence of fever. He never attempted to take
a sweat bath while in civilization, but often spoke of them. I never
saw him brush his teeth, but he rubbed them with his finger, and they
always seemed clean. He washed his mouth out with water after meals.
“His beard was sparse but he plucked it systematically by catching
individual hairs between the blade of a dull jack-knife and his thumb.
In his native state he used a sort of tweezers made of a split piece
of wood. He did this work without the use of a mirror.
“He combed and brushed his hair daily. He washed it frequently.... At
first he had no dandruff, but after two or three years’ contact with
the whites he had some dry seborrhoea, and began to get a trifle gray
at the temples ... he used grease on his scalp when in his native
state; whereas bay leaves and bay nuts he said were heated and reduced
to a semi-solid state, when they were rubbed on the body after the
sweat bath. Here they acted as a soporific, or, as he said, like
whiskey, and the person thus anointed fell into a sweet slumber. The
same substance was rubbed on moccasins to make them waterproof.
“On one occasion he contracted ring worm, probably from a wandering
cat. He was given a sulphur salve for this, and after its cure he
still used the ointment to soften his hands.... He was not susceptible
to ‘poison oak’ ... nor to sunburn. His skin bleached out considerably
while in San Francisco, and became darker when exposed to sunlight.
“... (he) seemed to have the same fondness for sweet-scented soap that
Orientals manifest.
“His personal belongings he kept in a most orderly manner, everything
in his box being properly folded and arranged with care. Articles
which he kept outside of this box he wrapped in newspaper and laid in
systematic arrangement on shelves in his room.
“In working on arrows or flaking obsidian, he was careful to place
newspapers on the floor to catch his chips. In fact, neatness and
order seemed to be part of his self-education.
“In the preparation of food and the washing of dishes he was very
orderly and clean.
“Diet—... After a certain period of this luxury (eating heavily) he
discerned the folly of this course and began eating less, when his
metabolism returned to a more normal balance. Part of this increase
was due to the large quantities of water he drank. Being unaccustomed
to salt, our seasoning was excessive and led to increased hydration of
his bodily tissues. He had a great fondness for sweets.... He tried
and liked nearly all kinds of foods, but seemed to have an aversion
for custards, blanc manges, and similar slimy confections, nor could
he be persuaded to drink milk. He contended that this was made for
babies, while he said that butter ruined the singing voice....
“Matches he took up with evident delight; they were such a contrast to
the laborious methods of the fire drill, or of nursing embers, which
he employed in the wilds.
“... His meat he boiled only about ten minutes, eating it practically
without seasoning.
“His own food in the wilds seems to have been fish, game, acorn meal,
berries, and many roots. Prominent among these latter was the bulb of
the _Brodiaea_. The Indian could go out on an apparently barren
hillside and with a sharp stick dig up enough _Brodiaea_ bulbs in an
hour to furnish food for a good meal. These roots are globular in
shape, with the appearance of an onion, ranging in size from a cherry
to a very small potato. The flavor when raw is like that of a potato,
and when cooked like a roasted chestnut.
“Alcohol—... Ishi himself had no liking for strong drink, although at
one time he purchased a few bottles of beer and drank small quantities
diluted with sugar and water. He called it medicine. His response to
my query regarding whiskey was, ‘Whiskey-tee crazy-aunatee, die man.’
“Tobacco—Occasionally Ishi smoked a cigarette, and he knew the use of
tobacco, having had access to the native herb in the wilds. But he
seldom smoked more than a few cigarettes a day, and frequently went
weeks without any. He disapproved of young people smoking. He chewed
tobacco at times, and spat copiously. Both of these indulgences,
however, he resorted to only when invited by some congenial friend.
“Etiquette—Although uncultured, he very quickly learned the proper use
of knife, fork, and spoon. His table manners were of the very best. He
often ate at my home, where he was extremely diffident; watched what
others did and then followed their examples, using great delicacy of
manner. His attitude toward my wife or any other woman member of the
household was one of quiet disinterest. Apparently his sense of
propriety prompted him to ignore her. If spoken to, he would reply
with courtesy and brevity, but otherwise he appeared not to see her.
“When he wanted to show his disapproval of anything very strongly, he
went through the pantomime of vomiting.
“Thrift—As janitor in the Museum, he was making a competent income,
understood the value of money, was very thrifty and saving, and looked
forward to the day when he could buy a horse and wagon. This seemed to
be the acme of worldly possession to him. He was very happy and well
contented, working a little, playing enough, and surrounded by
friends.
“ISHI’S DISPOSITION AND MENTALITY”
“Disposition—In disposition the Yahi was always calm and amiable.
Never have I seen him vehement or angry. Upon rare occasions he showed
that he was displeased. If someone who he thought had no privilege
touched his belongings, he remonstrated with some show of excitement.
Although he had lived in part by stealing from the cabins of men who
had usurped his country, he had the most exacting conscience
concerning the ownership of property. He would never think of touching
anything that belonged to another person, and even remonstrated with
me if I picked up a pencil that belonged to one of the Museum force.
He was too generous with his gifts of arms, arrow-heads, and similar
objects of his handicraft.
“His temperament was philosophical, analytical, reserved, and
cheerful. He probably looked upon us as extremely smart. While we knew
many things, we had no knowledge of nature, no reserve; we were all
busy-bodies. We were, in fact, sophisticated children.
“His conception of immortality was that of his tribe, but he seemed to
grasp the Christian concept and asked me many questions concerning the
hereafter. He rather doubted that the White God cared much about
having Indians with Him, and he did not seem to feel that women were
properly eligible to Heaven. He once saw a moving picture of the
Passion Play. It affected him deeply. But he misconstrued the
crucifixion and assumed that Christ was a ‘bad man’.
“Use of tools—He was quite adept in the use of such simple tools as a
knife, handsaw, file, and hatchet. He early discovered the advantages
of a small bench vise, and it took the place of his big toe in holding
objects thereafter.... Journeys were measured by days or sleeps ...
(he) was awe-struck when I took him to a sawmill where large cedar
logs were brought in and rapidly sawed up into small bits to be used
in making lead pencils. It would have taken hours for him to fell even
a small tree, and an interminable length of time to split it. But here
was a miracle of work done in a few minutes. It impressed him
greatly....”
In concluding remarks on Indian conflict with pioneer, a word concerning
Indian reservations will not be amiss. The author does best again in
quoting, this time from Kroeber:
“The first reservations established by Federal officers in California
were little else than bull pens. They were founded on the principle,
not of attempting to do something for the native, but of getting him
out of the white man’s way as cheaply and hurriedly as possible. The
reason that the high death rate that must have prevailed among these
makeshift assemblages was not reported on more emphatically is that
the Indians kept running away even faster than they could die.
“The few reservations that were made permanent have on the whole had a
conserving influence on the population after they once settled into a
semblance of reasonable order. They did little enough for the Indian
directly; but they gave him a place which he could call his own, and
where he could exist in security and in contact with his own kind....”
Despite certain undesirable features of Indian Reservations, the general
conclusion is that for a number of tribes survival has been considerably
greater today than would have been the case if the Indians had had to
shift for themselves in competition with the whites.