four square boxlike compartments or bins of thin slabs of sandstone
set on edge. Each bin contains a metate set at an angle with its lower
edge slightly below the level of the floor. There is a clear space
around each stone to permit of a better disposition of the corn and
meal. The texture of the metates is graduated from the first to the
last, the final one being capable of grinding the finest meal.
Accompanying the metate is a crushing or grinding stone about a foot
in length and from three to four inches wide. Its under surface is
flat, while its upper surface is convex to a slight extent, so as to
permit of its being grasped firmly by the thumb and fingers of both
hands. The corn is ground between these two stones, the upper one
being worked up and down the metate by a motion of the operator not
unlike that of a woman washing clothes on a washboard. The favorite
position assumed by the woman while working is to sit on her knees,
her toes resting against the wall of the house behind her. Of the many
colors of corn used by the Hopis, blue is the most common, and corn of
this color is ordinarily employed in the making of bread; other
colors, however, are used for the piki consumed in ceremonial feasts.
The stone used by the Oraibians for making piki is from a sandstone
quarry near Burro Springs. It is about twenty inches long by fourteen
broad, and is three inches thick. The upper surface is first dressed
by means of stone picks, and is polished by a hard rubbing-stone, and
then finally treated with pitch and other ingredients until its
surface is as smooth as glass. It is mounted on its two long edges by
upright slabs, so that it stands about ten inches from the level of
the floor, the floor itself being usually excavated to a depth of two
or three inches beneath the stone. At a height of about four feet
above this primitive griddle is a large rectangular hood which is
extended above the roof in the form of a chimney made of bottomless
pots, one resting on the other. Kneeling in front of the stone and
supporting her body with her left arm, the woman coats the stone with
the thin batter of corn and water with the fingers of her right hand.
After a few seconds' time she lifts the waferlike sheet from the stone
and transfers it to a mat which is made for this special purpose. For
some time the piki remains soft and pliable, and while in this
condition she rolls or folds the sheets according to her custom--some
folding, others rolling it. It is a curious sight on the feast days of
certain ceremonies to see women gathering from all quarters of the
village at an appointed house, each carrying a tray heaped high with
rolls of this paper bread.
[Illustration: WOMAN OF ORAIBI MAKING COILED POTTERY.]
The Hopis are among the foremost potters in North America, when we
take into consideration the fineness of the clays used and the
character of the decoration. But in many respects, especially in form,
their ware is much inferior to that of the ancient Mexicans and
Peruvians. They make pottery to-day as they did hundreds of years ago,
but the quality of the work has greatly deteriorated and the
earthenware now produced is not to be compared with that found in
near-by Hopi ruins. It should be kept in mind, however, that the
specimens found in the ancient graves are to a certain extent
ceremonial, and consequently better made and more ornate in their
decoration than those which were made simply for household purposes.
Still, there are a fineness of texture and a delicacy of coloring in
the ancient ware which can not now be produced. It is to be noted,
also, that the Hopi woman of to-day can not decipher the designs on
the earlier pottery, although she often copies them. The demand for
earthenware vessels, however, is nearly as great at present as it was
in prehistoric days, for you may search the homes of Oraibi for a long
time without finding a tin pan or an iron pot. Thus it is that every
Hopi woman must be a worker in clay, and one of the occasional sights
is that of a woman on her "front porch" surrounded by vessels of all
sizes and in varying degrees of completeness. The process of
pottery-making is somewhat as follows: After the clay has been worked
into a plastic mass she draws out from it a round strip the size of
one's finger and about five inches in length. This is coiled flat in
the bottom of the tray, and forms the base of the vessel. Other clay
strips are kneaded out of the mass, and these are coiled in a
gradually increasing spiral, the desired shape and proportion being
acquired at the same time, until the vessel has reached its proper
height. The sides of the vessel are then thinned down, and both inside
and outside are made smooth by means of small bits of gourds and
polishing-stones. The vessel is then ready for a coat of wash, after
which it is painted and fired. This method of making pottery is not
peculiar to the pueblos, but is found among some of the tribes of
South America.
The art of basketry was never brought to a high state among the Hopis,
for they confine themselves chiefly to the manufacture of large
shallow trays and rough baskets made of the long, pliable leaves of
the yucca or of some other fiber. These answer all ordinary domestic
requirements. From the reddish-brown branches of a willowlike bush
which grows near, the Hopi mother interweaves a cradle board for her
children. This cradle is peculiar in its shape, and especially so in
its construction, and differs greatly from that in use among the
plains Indians. Another singular point to be noted is the fact that
this cradle board is not often strapped to the back, but is usually in
the arms, or, more often still, is placed on the floor by the side of
the mother as she works. The Oraibi mesa, like other table-lands of
Tusayan, is destitute of water. The nearest spring is in the valley at
the foot of the mesa nearly a mile away. From before sunrise to ten
o'clock of every day there is an almost unbroken line of water
carriers going and coming from the spring, bending under the weight
of a large jar which they carry on their back by means of a blanket,
the ends of which are tied in a knot on their forehead. No wonder
these women grow prematurely old. Winter for them, however, has its
advantages, for they have an ingenious way of utilizing the snow to
save them from the necessity of going down the mesa for water. One of
the most extraordinary sights I saw was that of a Hopi woman and her
little girl trudging along, each bent almost to the ground under the
weight of an immense snowball. These they were carrying home on their
backs, enveloped in a blanket. About half a mile from the pueblo, back
on the mesa, reservoirs have been scooped out in the soft sandstone,
which are often partially filled by the spring rains, but the water
soon becomes brackish and is not potable, but is used for washing
clothes.
The costume of the woman consists ordinarily of four pieces--a
blanket, dress, belt, and moccasins. The blanket is of wool, and is
about four feet square. It is blue in color, with a black border on
two sides. These two edges are usually bound with a heavy green or
yellow woolen thread. To make the dress, this blanket is once folded
and is sewn together with red yarn at the long side, except for a
space sufficiently large to accommodate one arm. The folded upper
border is also sewn for a short space, which rests on one of the
shoulders. The other shoulder and both arms are bare, except as they
may be partially covered by the blanket. The belt or sash is of black
and green stripes, with a red center, ornamented with geometric
designs in black; it is about four inches wide, and is long enough to
permit of being wound around the waist two or three times. The
moccasins are of unpainted buckskin, one side of the top of which
terminates in a long, broad strip, which is wound round the leg
several times and extends up to the knee, thus forming a thick
legging. More than half the time the Hopi woman is barefooted. The
girls wear silver earrings, or suspend from the lobe of the ear small
rectangular bits of wood, one side of which is covered with a mosaic
of turquoise. This custom is of some antiquity, as ear pendants
exactly similar to these have been found in the Hopi ruins of
Homolobi, on the Little Colorado River.
In addition to this regulation costume, worn on all ordinary
occasions, each Hopi woman is supposed to own a bridal costume and two
special blankets, which are worn only in ceremonies, and hence need
not here be described. The bridal costume consists of a pair of
moccasins, two pure white cotton blankets, one large and the other
small, both having large tassels of yellow and the black yarn at each
corner, and a long, broad, white sash, each end of which terminates in
a fringe of balls and long thread. All three garments, before being
used, are covered with a thick coat of kaolin, so that they are quite
stiff. With these garments belongs a reed mat sufficiently large to
envelop the small blanket and the sash.
So far as I am able to learn, the three pieces of this remarkable
costume are never worn except on a single occasion, and at only one
other time does the bride formally appear in any of them. About a
month after the marriage ceremony has been performed, during which
time she has been living with the family of her husband, she completes
the marriage ceremony by returning to the house of her mother. This is
termed "going home," and this will be her place of abode until she and
her husband own a dwelling of their own. For this ceremony she puts on
the larger of the two blankets, which reaches almost to the ground and
comes up high on the back of the head, covering her ears. The smaller
blanket and the sash are rolled up in the mat, and with this in front
of her on her two arms she begins her journey "home." This white
cotton costume is probably a survival from times which antedate the
introduction of wool into the Southwest.
Who makes all these garments, blankets, etc.? Not the women, as you
might expect, but the men. A Hopi woman doesn't even make her own
moccasins. If you will descend into one of the kivas on almost any
day of the year, except when the secret rites of ceremonies are being
held, you will behold an industrious and an interesting scene. You
will find a group of men, naked except for a loin cloth, all busy
either with the carding combs, the spindle, or the loom; and to me the
most interesting of these three operations is that of the spinning of
wool. The spindle itself is long and heavy, and the whorl, in the
older examples, is a large disk cut from a mountain goat's horn. There
is no attempt at decoration, nor do the spindles compare with those
found in Peru and other parts of America for neatness and beauty. An
unusual feature of the method employed by the Hopi spinner is the
manner in which the spindle is held under one foot while he
straightens out the thread preparatory to winding it.
For weaving, two kinds of looms are used. One is a frame holding in
place a fifteen-inch row of parallel reeds, each about six inches long
and perforated in the center. This apparatus is used solely for making
belts, sashes, and hair and knee bands. These are not commonly woven
in the kiva, but in the open air on the terrace, one end of the warp
being fastened to some projecting rafter. The other loom is much
larger, and is used for blankets, dresses, and all large garments. It
differs in no essential particular from other well-known looms in use
by the majority of the aborigines of this continent. The method of
suspending the loom is perhaps worth a moment's notice, as in nearly
every house and in all kivas special provision is made for its
erection. From the wall near the ceiling project two wooden beams, on
which, parallel to the floor, is a long wooden pole, and to this is
fastened, by buckskin thongs, the upper part of the loom. Immediately
under this pole is a plank, flush with the floor, in which at short
intervals are partially covered U-shaped cavities in the wood, through
which are passed buckskin thongs which are fastened to the lower pole
of the loom. The sets of thongs are long enough to permit of the loom
being lowered or raised to a convenient height. While at work the
weaver generally squats on the floor in front of his loom, or he
occasionally sits on a low, boxlike stool. It is no uncommon sight to
see, at certain times of the year, as many as six or eight looms in
operation at one time in a single kiva. The men also do all the sewing
and embroidering. Practically all the yarn consumed by the Hopis is
home-dyed, but the colors now used are almost entirely from aniline
dyes and indigo. Cotton is no longer used except in the manufacture of
certain ceremonial garments, all others being made of wool. They own
their own sheep, which find a scant living in the valleys; for the
better protection of the sheep from wolves they also keep large
numbers of goats.
Although the men do all the weaving, they do but little of it for
themselves. For the greater part of the year their only garment is the
loin cloth--a bit of store calico. In addition, they all own a shirt
of cheap black or colored calico, which is generally more or less in
rags, and a pair of loose, shapeless pantaloons, made often from some
old flour sack or bit of white cotton sheeting. It is a rather
incongruous sight to see some old Hopi, his thin legs incased in a
dirty, ragged pair of flour-sack trousers, on which can still be
traced "XXX Flour, Purest and Best."
Neither sex scarifies, tattoos, or paints any part of the body except
in ceremonies, when colored paints are used as each ceremony requires.
The men often wear large silver earrings, and suspend from their neck
as many strands of shell and turquoise beads as their wealth will
allow. Some of the younger men wear, in addition, a belt of large
silver disks and a shirt and pantaloons of velvet. Most of their
silver ornaments, it should be noted, however, have been secured in
trade from the Navajos, who are the most expert silversmiths of the
Southwest.
When the Hopi isn't spinning or weaving, he is in his kiva praying for
rain, or he is in the field keeping the crows from his corn. I was
once asked if the Hopis plow with oxen or horses. They use neither;
they do not plow. When they plant corn they dig a deep hole in the
earth with a long, sharp stick until they reach the moist soil. When
the corn is sprouted and has reached a height of a few inches there
is always the possibility of its being blown flat by the wind or
overwhelmed in a sand storm. To provide against this the Hopi incloses
the exposed parts of his little field with wind-breakers, made by
planting in the earth thick rows of stout branches of brush. These
hedges even are often overwhelmed by the sand and completely covered
up.
And the crows, and the stray horses, and the cattle! Surely the poor
Indian must fight very hard for his corn. For nearly two months he
never leaves it unguarded, and that he may be comfortable he makes a
shelter behind which he can escape the burning rays of the July and
August sun. The shelters are occasionally rather pretentious affairs,
at times consisting of a thick brush roof, supported by stout rafters
which rest on upright posts. More often, however, they simply consist
of a row of cottonwood poles, five or six feet high, set upright at a
slight angle in the earth.
Although corn is by far the most important vegetable food, the rich
though sun-parched soil yields large crops of beans and melons of all
kinds.
[Illustration: VALLEY SCENE; FIELDS AND PEACH TREES. ORAIBI ON MESA TO
THE RIGHT.]
Peach orchards also thrive in the sheltered valleys near the mesa, and
in the fall great patches of peaches may be seen spread out to dry on
the rocks of the mesa to the north of the village. Of both beans and
peaches the Hopis generally have large quantities for the outside
market, which they take over to the railroad on the backs of burros or
ponies.
Before leaving the subject of the daily life of the male portion of
Oraibi I have still to mention a curious weapon of which they make
occasional use. This is the throwing-stick, or so-called boomerang,
which differs only slightly from that used by the aborigines of
Australia; the Hopi stick, however is better made, and is ornamented
by short red and black lines. This is the weapon of the young men, and
with it they work havoc with the rabbits which infest the valleys. But
although they have good control over it, as can often be seen on their
return from a hunt, they are not able to cause its return as can the
Australians. At first thought it seems rather strange that the
boomerang should have been evolved by two groups of mankind dwelling
in parts of the world so remote, but we must look for the explanation
of this phenomenon in the fact that the natural conditions of the two
countries have much in common--a generally level, sandy country, with
here and there patches of brush, a peculiar condition which would
readily yield itself to the development of an equally peculiar and
specialized weapon.
[Illustration: ORAIBI MAN TRANSPORTING FIREWOOD WITH BURROS.]
For fire the Hopi depends almost entirely on the rank growth of brush
which is found along the ravines. This suffices to supply heat to the
piki stone and the boiling pot, and enough to keep a fire on the
hearth in the kiva. But now and then he must make a distant journey to
that part of the mesa where the supply of stunted and scrubby pines
and piñons has not already been exhausted; for by custom four kinds of
fuel are prescribed for the kivas, and to keep the hearth replenished
with these often necessitates long journeys. As the woman bends under
her water jar, so the man staggers along under his load of fagots,
often carried from a distance of several miles.
REFORM OF PUBLIC CHARITY.
BY BIRD S. COLER,
COMPTROLLER OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK.
Abuse of municipal charity in New York city has reached a stage where
immediate and radical reform is necessary in order to prevent the
application of public funds to the payment of subsidies to societies
and institutions where professional pauperism is indirectly encouraged
and sustained. More than fifty years ago the city began to pay money
to private institutions for the support of public charges. The system
has grown without check until to-day New York contributes more than
three times as much public money to private or semiprivate charities
as all the other large cities in the United States combined. The
amounts so appropriated in 1898 by some of the chief cities were:
Chicago, $2,796; Philadelphia, $151,020; St. Louis, $22,579; Boston,
nothing; Baltimore, $227,350; Cincinnati, nothing; New Orleans,
$30,110; Pittsburg, nothing; Washington, $194,500; Detroit, $8,081;
Milwaukee, nothing; New York city, $3,131,580.51.
No serious attempt has heretofore been made to reform this system of
using public funds for the subsidizing of private charities. One
reason for this has doubtless been the fact that until recently the
local authorities were powerless to avoid or modify the effects of
mandatory legislation which has disposed of city moneys without regard
to the opinions entertained by the representatives of the local
taxpayers. It has always been easier to pass a bill at Albany than to
persuade the Board of Estimate and Apportionment of the propriety of
bestowing public funds on private charities, and the managers of
private charities seeking public assistance have therefore generally
proceeded along the line of least resistance. The effect of this
system was to make beneficiaries the judges of their own deserts, for
the bills presented by them to the Legislature were usually passed
without amendment or modification, and gross inequalities in
disbursing public funds have arisen, different institutions receiving
different rates of payment for the same class of work.
In 1890 the city paid for the support of prisoners and paupers in city
institutions the sum of $1,949,100, and for paupers in private
institutions the sum of $1,845,872. In 1898 these figures had
increased to $2,334,456 for prisoners and public paupers, and
$3,131,580 for paupers in private institutions. Private charity, so
called, has prospered at the expense of the city until in some cases
it has become a matter of business for profit rather than relief of
the needy. The returns made by institutions receiving appropriations
in bulk from the city treasury show that many of them are using the
public funds for purposes not authorized by the Constitution. The
Constitution authorizes payments to be made for "care, support, and
maintenance." The reports of a large number of institutions show the
money annually obtained from the city carried forward wholly or in
part as a surplus. Different uses are made of this surplus, none of
them, however, authorized by law or warranted by a proper regard for
the interests of the taxpayers. In some cases this surplus is used to
pay off mortgage indebtedness, in others for permanent additions to
buildings, or for increase of investments and endowment. In one case
the manager of an institution frankly explained a remarkable falling
off in disbursements (so great that its charitable activities were
almost suspended) by stating that it was proposed, by exercising great
economy for a number of years, to let the city's annual appropriations
accumulate into a respectable building fund. The flagrant nature of
this abuse is so apparent that comment is unnecessary.
Appropriations for dependent children have reached enormous
proportions. Out of a total of $3,249,623.81 appropriated for private
charities in 1899, no less than $2,216,773, or sixty-nine per cent, is
for the care and support of children. In no city in the United States
will the number of children supported at the public expense compare,
in proportion to the population, with the number so cared for in the
city of New York. This may be partly accounted for by the extremes of
poverty to be met with in the metropolis, especially among the
foreign-born population, where the struggle for existence is so severe
as to weaken the family ties; partly by the rivalry and competition
which have existed between the several institutions devoted to this
kind of work; partly by reason of the fact that the rate paid by the
city for the care of these children is such as to enable the larger
institutions, in all probability, to make a small profit; but, to a
considerable extent, also from an insufficient inspection by public
officers for the purpose of ascertaining whether children are the
proper subjects of commitment and detention. In the city of New York
50,638 children in private institutions are cared for at the public
expense. This is one to every sixty-eight of the estimated population
of the city.
So much for the abuse and extent of public charity. Now for the
reforming of the system that was fast approaching the condition of a
grave scandal. The last Legislature passed a bill placing in the hands
of the local Board of Estimate absolute power over all appropriations
for charitable purposes, and for the first time in many years reform
is possible. The discretion conferred by this act upon the Board of
Estimate and Apportionment carries with it a large responsibility. If
hereafter the city, in its relation to private charitable
institutions, should either, on the one hand, be wasteful of public
funds, or, on the other hand, should fail to perform the duties owed
by the community to the dependent classes, the blame can not be
shifted to the Legislature, but will rest squarely upon the shoulders
of the local authorities.