SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY • NUMBER 30 

Plains Indian Studies 

A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS IN HONOR OF 

JOHN C. EWERS AND WALDO R. WEDEL 

Douglas H. Ubelaker 

and Herman J. Viola 

EDITORS 

SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION PRESS 

City of Washington 

1982 
ABSTRAC T 

Ubelaker, Douglas H., and Herman J. Viola, editors. Plains Indian Studies: 

A Collection of Essays in Honor of John C. Ewers and Waldo R. Wedel. 

Smithsonian Contributions to Anthropology, number 30, 218 pages, 35 figures, 4 

tables, 4 plates, 1982.—Much of our knowledge of the ethnology, material 

culture, and prehistory of the Plains of the United States can be linked with 

the careers and careful research of the Smithsonian's John C. Ewers and 

Waldo R. Wedel. Following their retirement, the Smithsonian chose to 

recognize their outstanding contributions to science by sponsoring a two-day 

symposium in their honor. The essays in this volume result from that symposium and are designed to illuminate both the diversity of their interests and 

the intensity of their research efforts. Biographical sketches of both men are 

provided by William N. Fenton and James H. Gunnerson, followed by their 

complete bibliographies. Smithsonian historical perspective is added by T.D. 

Stewart. The remaining essays focus on original research that relates to their 

career interests conducted by individuals whom they have influenced. These 

authors and their subjects are Douglas R. Parks on the scalped man character 

in Arikara and Pawnee folklore, Thomas R. Wessel on problems of adaptation 

among the Blackfeet Indians, Loretta Fowler on political developments among 

the Northern Arapahoe and Gros Ventres, Hugh A. Dempsey on the nature 

of band organization among nonhorticultural Plains Indians, James A. Hanson on the evolution of Plains garments during the years of initial IndianWhite contact, Mildred Mott Wedel on the historical ethnology of the 

Wichita-speaking peoples in the southern Central Plains, David Mayer Gradwohl on the use of mussel shells in the removal of corn kernels for drying, 

Brian Hesse on problems of faunal analysis, John A. Hotopp on the Central 

Plains tradition in Iowa, George C. Prison on Paleo-Indian winter subsistence 

strategies, and Dennis J. Stanford on a review of the evidence for the early 

presence of man in the New World. 

OFFICIAL PUBLICATION DATE is handstamped in a limited number of initial copies and is recorded 

in the Institution's annual report, Smithsonian Year. SERIES COVER DESIGN: Sioux Indian hide 

painting depicting mounted warriers. 

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data 

Main entry under title: ' 

Plains Indian studies. 

(Smithsonian contributions to anthropology ; no. 30) 

Bibliography: p. 

Supt. of Docs, no.: SI 1.30:30 

1. Indians of North America—Great Plains—Addresses, essays, lectures. 2. Ewers, John 

Canfield—Addresses, essays, lectures. 3. Wedel, Waldo R. (Waldo Rudolph), ' 1908-

—Addresses, essays, lectures. I. Ewers, John Canfield. II. Wedel Waldo Rudolph 

1908- III. Ubelaker, Douglas H. IV. Viola, Herman J. V Series ' 

GN1.S54 no. 30 [E78.G73] 301s 81-607137 [978'.00497] AAGR2 
Contents 

Page 

EDITORS' INTRODUCTION, by Douglas H. Ubelaker and Herma n J. 

Viola 1 

JOH N CANFIELD EWERS AND THE GREAT TRADITION OF ARTISTS AND 

ETHNOLOGISTS OF THE WEST , by William N. Fenton 11 

WALD O R . WEDEL , ARCHEOLOGIST: PERSPECTIVES THAT GRE W IN THE 

PLAINS, by Jame s H. Gunnerson .; 18 

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JOH N C . EWERS 25 

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF WALD O R . WEDE L 33 

REMINISCENCES, by T.D. Stewart 40 

A N HISTORICAL CHARACTER MYTHOLOGIZED: TH E SCALPED MA N IN 

ARIKARA AND PAWNEE FOLKLORE, by Douglas R. Parks 47 

POLITICAL ASSIMILATION ON THE BLACKFOOT INDIAN RESERVATION, 1887-

1934: A STUDY IN SURVIVAL, by Thoma s R. Wessel 59 

"LOO K AT M Y HAIR, IT IS GRAY" : AG E GRADING, RITUAL AUTHORITY, 

AND POLITICAL CHANGE AMONG THE NORTHERN ARAPAHOES AND GROS 

VENTRES, by Loretta Fowler 73 

HISTORY AND IDENTIFICATION OF BLOOD BANDS, by Hug h A. Dempsey 94 

LACED COATS AND LEATHER JACKETS: TH E GREAT PLAINS INTERCULTURAL 

CLOTHING EXCHANGE, by Jame s A. Hanson 105 

T H E WICHIT A INDIANS IN THE ARKANSAS RIVER BASIN, by Mildred Mott 

Wede l 118 

SHELLING CORN IN THE PRAIRIE-PLAINS: ARCHEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE AND 

ETHNOGRAPHIC PARALLELS BEYOND THE PUN, by David Maye r 

Gradwohl 135 

BIAS IN THE ZOOARCHEOLOGICAL RECORD: SUGGESTIONS FOR INTERPRETATION OF BONE COUNTS IN FAUNAL SAMPLES FROM THE PLAINS, by 

Brian Hesse 157 

SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE CENTRAL PLAINS TRADITION IN IOWA, by 

Joh n A. Hotop p 173 

PALEO-INDIAN WINTER SUBSISTENCE STRATEGIES ON THE HIG H PLAINS, by 

George C. Prison 193 

A CRITICAL REVIE W OF ARCHEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE RELATING TO THE 

ANTIQUITY OF HUMAN OCCUPATION OF THE NE W WORLD , by Dennis J. 

Stanford 202 

111 
FIGURE 1.—^John C. Ewers and Waldo R. Wedel at the Smithsonian Symposium in their honor, 

25 April 1980. 
Plains Indian Studies 

Editors' Introduction 

Douglas H. Ubelaker and Herman J. Viola 

Publication of this volume completes a project 

begun in late 1978 to honor John C. Ewers and 

Waldo R. Wedel, two distinguished emeritus curators in the Department of Anthropology at the 

Smithsonian Institution. Although Jack and 

Waldo had recently retired, they kept their offices 

and continued their research and writing about 

the ethnology and archeology of the Plains, much 

as they had been doing for the previous forty 

years. Indeed, both of these quiet and unassuming 

gentlemen had asked nothing more than to enjoy 

a tranquil retirement and to remain members of 

the community of scholars on the Mall. 

But this could not be. Since both men had 

been outstanding scholars their entire professional 

lives and could claim a large part of the credit for 

the prestige and distinction that Smithsonian 

anthropology enjoys today, they obviously deserved special recognition. Accordingly, a departmental planning group of Kate C. Duncan (postdoctoral fellow), James A. Hanson (Office of 

Museum Programs), Sarah M. Quilter, William 

C. Sturtevant, and Douglas H. Ubelaker (staff 

members) met to exchange ideas and suggestions. 

Two symposia were first suggested, one in honor 

of Ewers and one in honor of Wedel. However, as 

the group discussed thematic and geographical 

Douglas H. Ubelaker, Deparlmenl of Anthropology, National Museum 

of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, B.C. 

20560. Herman J. Viola, National Anthropological Archives, National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. 20560. 

coverage of each and the respective lists of possible scholars to be consulted, the overlap became 

apparent. The research of both men had focused 

on the Plains area of the United States, with 

Wedel concentrating on its prehistory as revealed 

through archeology and Ewers on its early history 

as gleaned from archival and ethnological 

sources. Through Wedel's use of the direct historical approach and Ewers' desire to trace history 

as far back as possible, the common ground 

emerged. Early in their years at the Smithsonian 

a symbiotic intellectual relationship grew between them, nurtured by their mutual respect for 

scholarship and knowledge. In addition they have 

remained good friends and continue to share 

information, ideas, and professional contacts. Accordingly, the planning group agreed upon a 

single symposium to honor them jointly. 

At this point, the work of co-ordinating the 

symposium was turned over to Douglas H. Ubelaker and Herman J. Viola. They not only agreed 

to serve as organizers of the symposium, but also 

to edit the resulting publication. After receiving 

a financial commitment from the Smithsonian 

Institution, Ubelaker and Viola met with Ewers 

and Wedel to discuss topical coverage and potential participants. All agreed that presentations 

should be on topics within the geographical limits 

of the Plains area of the United States and the 

scholarly limits of the anthropology of Indians 

(including history, folklore, and linguistics). Besides meeting the above requirements, partici1 
SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

pants were limited to long-time respected colleagues of Ewers and Wedel, whose research 

either complemented directly their own research 

interests or who could be considered their students. The number of scholars who met the above 

criteria was enormous. Although Ewers and 

Wedel have spent most of their professional lives 

in museum research positions, they have influenced many scholars and have a considerable 

intellectual following through their publications, 

field work, and continual willingness to share 

their time with scholars working in their respective areas. For years, their knowledge and openness have kept them busy with students seeking 

them out. Obviously, the final selection of just 

sixteen presentations was not an easy task. 

By June of 1979, the list was completed and 

planning for the conference intensified. Stephanie 

M. Damadio of the Department of Anthropology 

served as the symposium coordinator, ably taking 

charge of such important tasks as hotel and room 

arrangements, preparation of programs, transportation arrangements, and audiovisual needs. She 

even found baby sitters for participants' children. 

Department illustrator, George Robert Lewis, 

prepared artwork for the conference. Secretaries 

Michele H. Albert and Elizabeth C. Beard assisted with the voluminous paperwork. 

Somehow it all came off smoothly. Most participants arrived Wednesday evening, 23 April, 

for a cocktail reception in Rosslyn, Virginia. Formal proceedings began at 9:00 A.M. the following 

day with welcomes by Richard S. Fiske, director 

of the National Museum of Natural History, and 

by Douglas H. Ubelaker, chairman of the Department of Anthropology. Herman J. Viola 

chaired the sessions for that day. That evening 

the participants, the honorees, and their guests 

gathered in the Natural History Building for a 

formal banquet, featuring T. Dale Stewart as the 

after dinner speaker (his presentation has also 

been published in this volume). The remainder 

of the papers were presented the following day in 

sessions chaired by Richard G. Forbis. 

The following represents the official program. 

Note, however, that Beatrice Medicine was unable to attend and her presentation was not given. 

George C. Prison also could not attend, but his 

manuscript was read by Forbis. 

Thursday, 24 April 1980 

9:00 a.m. WELCOME: 

D. Ubelaker, Chairman, Department of Anthropology, Smithsonian Institution 

R. Fiske, Director, National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution 

CHAIR: H . Viola, Smithsonian Institution 

9:20 a.m. "John Canfield Ewers, and the Great Tradition of Artists, Ethnologists, Historians, and 

Museologists of the Northern Plains." W. 

Fenton, State University of New York 

9:50 a.m. "History and Identification of Blood 

Bands." H. Dempsey, Glenbow Alberta 

Institute 

10:40 a.m. "Out of the Mirage: Current Research and 

Interpretations of Women in Northern 

Plains Societies.'' B. Medicine, University 

of Wisconsin 

11:20 a.m. "An Historical Character Mythologized: The 

Scalped Man In Arikara and Pawnee Folklore." D. Parks, Mary College 

12:00 p.m. LUNCH 

1:30 p.m. "The Crow Migration Story." J. Medicine 

Crow, Tribal Historian, Crow Indian Tribe 

2:10 p.m. "The Wichita Indians, 1541-1750s." M. 

Mott Wedel, Smithsonian Institution 

3:00 p.m. "Laced Coats and Leather Jackets: The 

Interracial Exchange of Clothing on 

the Plains." J. Hanson, Smithsonian 

Institution 

3:40 p.m. "Political Assimilation of the Blackfoot Indian 

Reservation, 1887-1934: A Study in Sur^ 

vival." T. Wessel, Montana State University 

Friday, 25 April 1980 

CHAIR: R . Forbis, University of Calgary 

9:00 a.m. "Waldo Wedel, Archeologist: Perspectives 

that Grew in the Plains." J. Gunnerson, 

University of Nebraska Museum 

9:45 a.m. "Apachean Migration and Adaptation." D. 

Gunnerson, University of Nebraska Museum 

10:35 a.m. "Some Comments on Zooarcheological 

Method." B. Hesse, University of Alabama at Birmingham 

11:15 a.m. "Political Reorganization among Three Arapahoe Divisions: A Comparative Analysis 

of Adaptive Processes during the Reservation Era." L. Fowler, State University of 

New York 
NUMBER 30 

12:00 p.m. LUNCH 

1:30 p.m. "Some Observations on the Central Plains 

Tradition in Iowa." J. Hotopp, Iowa City 

2:10 p.m. "Paleo-Indian Winter Subsistence Strategies 

on the High Plains." G. Prison, University 

of Wyoming 

3:00 p.m. "Shelling Corn in the Prairie-Plains: Archeological Analogies and Ethnographic Parallels Beyond the Pun." D. Gradwohl, Iowa 

State University 

3:40 p.m. "Evidence for Early Human Occupation in 

the New World: A Critical Review." D. 

Stanford, Smithsonian Institution 

Following the conference, those participants 

who had not yet submitted manuscripts were 

strongly urged to do so. The editors examined 

each essay upon receipt and recommended 

changes when necessary. Accepted manuscripts 

were then sent to specialists for outside review. 

Any changes recommended by the peer review 

and approved by the editors were communicated 

to the authors. After the authors approved these 

changes, the essays were judged ready for publication and were organized into the volume. 

Of the seventeen originally planned papers, 

fourteen survived the above editorial process and 

are presented here. Each focuses on some aspect 

of Plains Indian anthropology, but the approaches, topics, and problem-levels vary considerably. Collectively, the essays are not designed 

to follow a particular theme or to cover any 

assigned area within the Plains. Under the general guidelines presented earlier, the authors were 

asked to provide new original data in a manner 

that would admirably complement the career 

interests and accomplishments of the two great 

scholars honored by this volume. 

The leadoff articles by William N. Fenton and 

James H. Gunnerson focus on the lives and professional careers of Ewers and Wedel. Fenton brings 

to the volume a fifty-year professional acquaintance with both honorees, which began at Dartmouth College in 1930 with Ewers and at Signal 

Butte, Nebraska, in 1932 with Wedel. The three 

scholars were later colleagues at the Smithsonian 

when Fenton was associated with the former Bureau of American Ethnology, while Ewers and 

Wedel were curators in the Department of Anthropology. Fenton's essay is alive with personal 

reminiscences, chronological ordering, and interpretive insights. Ewers' lifetime study of Blackfoot culture and Plains art and material culture 

is traced back to classroom assignments by Clark 

Wissler at the Yale University graduate school. 

Additional influence was provided by Leslie 

Spier, Peter Buck, and Edward Sapir. Fenton 

then follows Ewers through positions as field curator for the National Park Service, Naval Reserve officer, curator of ethnology for the Smithsonian, and then planning officer, assistant director, and director of the Museum of History and 

Technology (now called National Museum of 

American History). Fenton also details Ewers' 

many contributions to knowledge through publication and exhibition. 

Gunnerson brings to his essay on Wedel a 

professional acquaintance of over thirty years and 

a firm awareness of his contributions to Plains 

anthropology. Gunnerson draws heavily from 

Wedel's own autobiographical sketch, "The Education of a Plains Archeologist," published in 

1977 in the Plains Anthropologist, as well as from 

personal impressions of his professional development and impact. The essay reveals Wedel's pioneer role in the evolution of Plains archeology 

and his methodological influence outside of that 

region. Gunnerson emphasizes Wedel's insistence 

on hard data to document theory and his broad 

ecological approach, integrating ethnohistorical 

information as the keystones to his impact and 

success. Gunnerson traces Wedel's productive career through undergraduate training at Bethel 

College in Kansas and at the University of Arizona graduate school at Nebraska under William 

Duncan Strong and at the University of California, Berkeley, under Alfred C. Kroeber and Carl 

Sauer, culminating with a career position at the 

Smithsonian Institution. Gunnerson summarizes 

Wedel's many scholarly and administrative 

achievements at the Smithsonian, noting specially his "profound influence" upon younger 

archeologists who have followed or further developed their mentor's ideas and research approaches. 

The Fenton and Gunnerson biographical 
SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

sketches are followed by bibliographies (not including book reviews) of Ewers and Wedel and a 

thoughtful essay by physical anthropologist, curator emeritus, and former director of the National Museum of Natural History, T. Dale Stewart. The Stewart essay represents the after dinner 

address he delivered to the symposium participants on 24 April 1980. The editors include it 

with the belief that it offers insight into the 

climate of Smithsonian science at the time Ewers 

and Wedel began their careers here. 

The remaining essays in the volume focus on 

subject matter that relates directly to the interests 

of Ewers and Wedel and are written by individuals whom they have influenced. A general reverse temporal ordering is followed, which runs 

from the present (or ethnographic present) to the 

past, culminating in two essays on Paleo-Indian 

research. 

Drawing heavily from data collected recently 

from Indian informants, Douglas R. Parks looks 

critically at the "scalped man" character in Arikara and Pawnee folklore. His essay traces the 

evolution of the scalped man from an historical 

character to a mythological one, demonstrating 

how the role definition reflects social attitudes 

and larger cultural phenomena. His sample is 

drawn from thirty stories. Some are published in 

studies by George A. Dorsey, Gene Weltfish, and 

Parks, himself, while others are taken directly 

from the author's unpublished files and synthesized here for the first time. The result is a very 

readable and informative account of this aspect 

of Plains Indian folklore. Parks received a Smithsonian postdoctoral fellowship in 1973 and has 

since worked closely with both Ewers and Wedel 

on problems of mutual interest. 

The following three essays focus on different 

aspects of the history of some Northern Plains 

tribes, an area long of interest to Ewers. Thomas 

R. Wessel discusses the problems of adaptation 

the Blackfeet Indians faced during their transition 

from warrior-hunters to sedentary White-controlled lifeways. His essay focuses on reservation 

life between 1887 and 1934, and specifically on 

the role of one man, Robert J. Hamilton, whose 

life spanned the transitional period. Wessel follows Hamilton's life from his teens during the last 

buffalo hunts in the 1880s through the development of a modern reservation economy in the 

early 1900s. Wessel also received a Smithsonian 

postdoctoral fellowship in 1973 to conduct research on Indian agriculture with Ewers. 

Loretta Fowler looks at political developments 

among the Northern Arapahoe and Gros Ventres 

Indians prior to 1934. She demonstrates how two 

closely related tribes developed considerably different political behavior when confronted with 

the transition from old lifeways to reservation life. 

She places the development of the Business Council in historical context with an exhaustive review 

of traditional methods of age grading, consensus 

formation, and definition of authority. The essay 

provides important historical information on political development, but more importantly it interprets the historical data within a broad sociocultural perspective. Loretta Fowler held a Smithsonian postdoctoral fellowship in 1976 while 

working on the history of Arapahoe political organization with Ewers and Wedel. 

In a summary essay on the Blood bands, Hugh 

A. Dempsey addresses the nature of band organization among nonhorticultural Plains Indians. 

He provides a functional definition of the band 

that emphasizes flexibility and variability rather 

than consistency and predictability. The variation in behavior and cultural fluidity described 

here are impressive and may provide a useful 

lesson to those students of Plains Indian culture 

who depend upon hard models to interpret their 

data. Hugh Dempsey traces his acquaintance 

with Ewers back thirty years to the Blackfoot 

Reservation in Montana where both men were 

conducting field research. 

James A. Hanson's essay focuses on the evolution of garments worn on the Plains during the 

years of increasing Indian-White contact. He provides interesting perspective to some long-held 

beliefs regarding traditional Plains clothing 

among Indians as well as among the European 

immigrants. From earliest contact, fashions were 

flowing in both directions. European clothing 
NUMBER 30 

comprised some of the earliest items traded to 

Indians, while demand for Indian garments 

among Whites was also strong. Hanson brings 

together data from a variety of sources, including 

his own observations of museum collections and 

early photographs to form a very readable account of this important aspect of Plains material 

culture. Hanson's contact with the Smithsonian 

dates back to when he and his father (Charles 

Hanson, founder and head of the Museum of Fur 

Trade at Chadron, Nebraska) attended a meeting 

in Washington, D.C, of the Potomac Corral of 

the Westerners. There he met Ewers and Wedel 

and began a lifetime of professional contact with 

both of them. He later joined the staff as the 

Native American Museum Training Coordinator 

in the Office of Museum Programs. 

Mildred Mott Wedel presents an important 

contribution to the historical ethnology of the 

Wichita-speaking peoples in the southern Central 

Plains. She analyzes the material culture, lifeways, and intertribal relationships as reported in 

Spanish sources beginning in the sixteenth century and in French sources beginning in the 

eighteenth century. The result is a vivid illustration in painstaking detail of the manner in which 

European politics and commercial machinations 

affected the welfare of the native peoples and 

altered their lifeways. 

Mildred Wedel has conducted research in 

Plains ethnohistory and worked closely with her 

husband Waldo on problems of mutual interest 

in the Plains both before and after their marriage 

in 1939. She has also enjoyed the intellectual 

stimulation and fellowship provided by John and 

Margaret Ewers over the years in the Department 

of Anthropology, where she has held the title of 

Research Associate since 1974. 

The contribution by David Mayer Gradwohl 

integrates data from ethnography, archeology, 

ethnohistory, and contemporary observations to 

analyze a specific culture trait, the use of mussel 

shells in the removal of corn kernels for drying. 

Gradwohl documents that contemporary Mesquakie Indians of central Iowa remove green corn 

kernels from the cob by using sharpened clam 

shells taken from the Iowa River. Interestingly, 

shell artifacts have been found archeologically in 

Iowa and throughout the Plains, which show 

evidence that they were used for processing corn. 

His essay argues that despite the many other 

cultural changes that obviously have occurred, at 

least this trait has continued for nearly one thousand years. 

The research design presented in this essay by 

Gradwohl is very similar to Wedel's own approach of using ethnohistorical and other modern 

data to explain residues of past behavior revealed 

through archeology. Wedel and Gradwohl presently are collaborating on research dealing with 

the 1917 field surveys by Warren K. Moorehead, 

Fred H. Sterns, and Joseph B. Thoburn in the 

Arkansas drainage. They have been friends since 

Gradwohl's student days at the University of 

Nebraska. 

Brian Hesse's essay addresses the realities of 

faunal analysis, giving special attention to the 

problems of sampling and identifying the number 

of individuals represented in a bone assemblage. 

The essay clearly shows the benefits to be gained 

from careful analysis above the usual listing of 

species. The essay addresses broad theoretical 

problems in faunal analysis using examples from 

the Central Plains tradition, the Middle Missouri 

region, and elsewhere in the Plains. 

Hesse received a predoctoral fellowship with 

the Smithsonian Institution in 1975 and later 

worked for the Office of Exhibits in the preparation of a permanent exhibit hall entitled "Western Civilization: Origins and Traditions." Most 

of his previous work was carried on in South 

America and the Near East. This essay, focusing 

on the Plains, demonstrates the extent to which 

investigators in the Plains share technical problems with workers in other regions of the world 

and the corresponding need for the interchange 

of ideas. 

"Some Observations on the Central Plains Tradition in Iowa" by John A. Hotopp presents new 

data to further define that tradition, with a special look at settlement patterns. The essay critically surveys the history of research pertaining to 
SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

the Central Plains tradition, much of it authored 

by Wedel, and presents an important new synthesis for the Glenwood locality. Hotopp looks at 

the size, floor area, and environmental position 

of Glenwood lodges through time to discern settlement patterns. The ecological approach shown 

here, integrating some ethnohistorical data, not 

only utilizes Wedel's published data but approximates Wedel's own approach to similar problems. Hotopp worked with Wedel at the Smithsonian on a postdoctoral fellowship in 1980 and 

1981. 

George C. Prison examines evidence from the 

High Plains regarding "Paleo-Indian Winter 

Subsistence Strategies." The author reviews data 

from several Paleo-Indian sites in Colorado, 

South Dakota, and Wyoming to elucidate PaleoIndian methods of winter food procurement that 

include the freezing and drying of meat as well as 

the manufacture of pemmican. Prison conducted 

research at the Smithsonian Institution in 1980 

as a Smithsonian's Regents' Fellow. 

The final essay in the volume, by Dennis Stanford, is titled "A Critical Review of Archeological 

Evidence Relating to the Antiquity of Human 

Occupation of the New World." Stanford examines the evidence relevant to the problem of man's 

antiquity in the New World. He begins with a 

survey of largely theoretical contrasting positions 

on this important issue and then moves to a 

detailed discussion of the archeological evidence. 

His critical review of the archeological evidence 

focuses mostly on the reliability of the radiometric 

dates, the interpretation of the stratigraphic context, and the determination of whether or not 

recovered specimens are of human manufacture. 

Stanford joined the Smithsonian staff in 1972. 

His career research has focused on the excavation 

and analysis of Paleo-Indian archeological sites, 

particularly in the Plains area. 

The editors began this effort with certain misgivings. John C. Ewers and Waldo R. Wedel 

deserved suitable recognition for their work, 

which forms a significant chapter in the history 

of Smithsonian anthropology, upholding a tradition of excellence begun by E.G. Squier and E.H. 

Davis under the direction of Joseph Henry and 

continued by Major John Wesley Powell, William 

Henry Holmes, James C. Mooney, and others. 

Certainly, Ewers and Wedel have had much to 

do with keeping that tradition strong and vibrant; 

and, since they have contributed so much to the 

literature of anthropology, it was only fitting that 

these papers given in their honor should also be 

published. The editors hope that this volume will 

be judged an appropriate tribute to these two 

scholars, whose leadership, dedication, and personal standards of excellence have been such an 

inspiration to their students, colleagues, and 

friends. 
John C. Ewers and William N. Fenton Waldo R. Wedel and Douglas H. Ubelaker 

Participants in the Ewers-Wedel Symposium 
Loretta K. Fowler David M. Gradwohl Douglas R. Parks Richard S. Fiske 

Left to right: Brian C. Hesse, Waldo 

R. Wedel, R.H. Ives Goddard III, 

Mildred Mott Wedel, John C. Ewers, 

Irene Zimmerman 
^ 9 

^^^^H/"^V^^^^H 

P^^B Lf// to n|[/2<: (lop) Margaret Ewers, Diane Ewers 

Peterson, Regina Flannery; {bottom left) John A. 

Hotopp and James B. Griffin; (above) Thomas R. 

Wessel and Stephanie H. Damadio 

Left to right: James H. Gunnerson, Thomas R. Wessel, Herman J. Viola, Hugh A. Dempsey 
Herman J. Viola and Joseph Medicine Crow 

James A. Hanson and Dennis J. Stanford 

Mildred Mott Wedel 

Martha R. Blaine and Robert M. Kvasnicka 

Left to right: Richard G. Forbis, William N. 

Fenton, Waldo R. Wedel 
John Canfield Ewers and the Great Tradition of 

Artists and Ethnologists of the West 

William N. Fenton 

ABSTRACT 

John C. Ewers is one of the nation's foremost 

scholars. Throughout his career he has been able 

to apply his personal talent and interest in art to 

the study of the American Indian, giving him a 

unique appreciation for native art forms and 

enabling him to transmit that insight to the 

American people through his numerous publications. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—I am indebted to Nancy 

Elliott, director of the Dartmouth College Alumni 

Records Office, for copies of the file on John 

Canfield Ewers, Class of 1931; and to Ned Pitkin 

of Loudonville, New York, a classmate of Ewers, 

for a copy of the Class of'31 31-Yr. Yearbook. Their 

assistance is gratefully acknowledged. The official 

A RO file also contains a copy of Professor Robert 

E. Riegel's review of The Indians of Texas in 1830 

from the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine of June 1969. 

My contribution to this symposium honoring 

Jack Ewers and Waldo Wedel might honestly be 

titled "A Personal View during Fifty Years," for 

I have known them both since the early nineteenthirties, a period that encompasses our professional careers as anthropologists. I met Jack at 

Dartmouth and Waldo at Signal Butte, my one 

foray into archeology and my introduction to the 

Plains. Afterward, we three were colleagues at the 

William N. Fenton, State University of New York at Albany, 1400 

Washington Avenue, Albany, New York 12222. 

Smithsonian. I am happy to acknowledge these 

two fine gentlemen and eminent scholars among 

my friends today. We share in common an interest in the interface of history and anthropology, 

an approach that has come to be known as ethnohistory, and our contributions are as varied as 

the problems we have researched. Wedel's use of 

the direct historic approach in the prehistory of 

the Plains and his contributions to archeological 

and natural science will be treated by other participants in this symposium. Ewers has linked his 

own talent and training as an artist to historical 

interpretation of objects and paintings of the Old 

West and to field work among the horsemen of 

the Northern Plains, producing both books and 

monographs and creating entire museums that 

bring his visual acuity to the public. Having 

identified the two scholars with the tradition of 

historical anthropology at the Smithsonian, and 

saluting Wedel, I now confine my remarks to the 

career of Jack Ewers. 

Jack and I met in a senior seminar in sociology 

taught by Andy Truxall, who was afterward president of Hood College in Frederick, Maryland, 

for that was the nearest an undergraduate could 

come to the science of culture in the Dartmouth 

of our day. Jack was a class behind me, but we 

graduated together, since I had dropped out the 

previous year after discovering that I abhorred 

businesss administration and finance. With the 

age-graded structure of Dartmouth undergraduate life, we had not previously been thrown together in classes and other activities. I had known 

Jack in passing as an editor o{ \hc Jack-0-Lantern, 

11 
12 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

a Student magazine of humor that was sometimes 

in trouble with the college administration for 

borderline jokes and drawings that would raise 

few eyebrows or turn few heads today. Indeed, 

much of the humor was quite funny. I do not 

hold Jack responsible for all of it, but I must say 

that his sense of humor has never left him. 

We both went on to Yale to do anthropology 

because of Clark Wissler. Wissler came up to New 

Haven on Tuesdays and Thursdays to teach at 

the Institute of Human Relations from his fulltime post as chairman of anthropology at the 

American Museum of Natural History, where 

each of us had come to know him separately. 

Wissler attracted an extraordinary number of 

young students to careers in anthropology. He 

afterward referred to them as his "boys." Each of 

us had gone to him with some research interest 

that perhaps started with a hobby; he always 

found time for us and he was always encouraging. 

Today I retain an image of this patient, generous, 

and genial man turning from his desk to greet 

me, and then returning to his writing without 

ever having lost his stride. Small wonder that 

some of us sought him out at Yale. 

The Anthropology Department was in its birth 

pangs when I arrived at New Haven in the fall of 

1931. Wissler was already ensconced at the Institute; Edward Sapir had just arrived from the 

University of Chicago as Sterling Professor of 

Anthropology and Linguistics in the graduate 

school; George Peter Murdock, an Old Blue, was 

assistant professor of sociology and heir to the 

tradition of William Graham Sumner and Albert 

"Buggs" Keller; and Cornelius Osgood, a fresh 

Ph.D. from Chicago, was the new curator of 

anthropology and prehistory at the Yale Peabody 

Museum, George Grant MacCurdy having just 

retired. This four-sided arrangement of anthropological talent was soon to create some interesting polarities, and some tensions for students, but 

the distances kept us all in shape walking. 

Jack arrived the second year, having spent the 

year after graduation studying painting and 

drawing at the Art Students' League in New York 

City. This was excellent preparation for his later 

work in material culture, muscology, and the 

history of nineteenth-century painters of the 

West. Many of these painters, from George Catlin 

to Frederick Remington, were ethnologists more 

or less. A number of them were also writers of 

some note, and Jack is clearly in their intellectual 

descent. 

I recall that Wissler's seminar one year included W.W. Hill, Willard Z. Park, David Mandelbaum, David Rodnick, Froelich G. Rainey, 

Jack, and me. Wissler had long since outgrown 

the "age and area hypothesis," with which most 

anthropologists would tag him today, and he was 

into direct history and culture change. He was 

also writing a landmark paper in the history of 

anthropology, "The American Indian and the 

American Philosophical Society" (1942), which 

he shared with us. He assigned each of us a people 

on or bordering the Northern Plains and suggested that we read and master the historical and 

ethnological literature on the group and be prepared to trace their movements and major contacts with other ethnic entities, including Whites. 

Wissler assigned the Ottawa to me first and later 

the Arikara, when it became apparent that he 

was going to place me as a Laboratory of Anthropology fellow with William Duncan Strong's field 

party from the Smithsonian (that is how I met 

Wedel). It was a similar assignment that led Jack 

to the Blackfeet and their neighbors with whom 

his name is now synonymous. 

Either that year or the next, and certainly 

under Wissler's influence and direction. Ewers 

undertook for his master's degree thesis a study 

of Plains Indian painting on skin robes, parfleches, and tipis that resulted in his first book 

(1939), which was selected as one of the fifty best 

of the year by the American Institute of Graphic 

Arts. This fate has befallen few doctoral dissertations to my knowledge. 

In those years, at least two other members of 

the Yale Anthropology faculty were interested in 

material culture and influenced students to undertake research on related problems. Leslie Spier 

came on as visiting professor in the autumn of 

1932 to offer "Methods of Ethnography," with 
NUMBER 30 13 

heavy doses of material culture. The other inspiration was Te Rangi Hiroa (Peter H. Buck), the 

Maori scholar who, as Bishop Museum visiting 

professor, was to acquaint us with the intricacies 

of lashing adzes and pounding tapa cloth. Not 

only did Te Rangi Hiroa make the Polynesian 

cultures come alive in class, but the Bucks also 

gave great student parties in which we all learned 

to perform the Haka. Buck was the first to demonstrate for us the uses of a 35-mm camera in 

studies of museum collections. In fact, he was 

about to visit London that summer to seek out 

the materials that Captain Cook brought back 

from his voyages and that now repose in several 

museum collections. Jack, having already begun 

research on museum collections, was to master 

the Plains collections of the world, which are 

extensive and demand unique talents of the investigator. 

Leslie Spier in his "Methods of Ethnography" 

course insisted that if one of us would take up the 

pursuit of material culture and technology as a 

career interest, he would make a name for himself 

At least one person heard and remembered, but 

the great concentrations of student interest at 

Yale in our day were in Sapir's seminars in linguistic science, which required special aptitudes 

and background that most of us lacked. Others 

of us were gaited for his offerings in "Primitive 

Society" and "Primitive Religion and Art," 

where students who were headed for fieldwork in 

ethnography had a chance to present a whole 

culture. Many of the persons who later made 

names for themselves came out of these sessions, 

including Ewers, Hill, Hudson, La Barre, Rainey, 

Mandelbaum, and Kennedy. 

Sapir's even more fashionable seminar on the 

"Impact of Culture on Personality," to which 

foreign fellows and local psychiatrists flocked, 

displacing us ethnographers to the outer row of 

chairs, touched aspects of the relation of the 

individual to his culture that lay beyond the 

interest of still other students. Jack wisely concentrated his efforts where he had special talent: the 

field of primitive art. Working with Wissler, he 

completed the research for his master's thesis and 

departed without going on to the doctorate. None 

of us who stayed on in New Haven to complete 

the doctorate has contributed more to the literature of American ethnology. 

The following year Jack was in New York, 

taking courses at Columbia, studying collections 

of painted robes at the Museum of the American 

Indian and at the American Museum of Natural 

History, consulting with Wissler, dropping in at 

the Art Students' League, and getting married. 

The pleasant affliction of falling in love had 

overtaken him two years previously, when in the 

summer of 1932 he made the grand tour of 

Europe. Few persons today experience the pleasures and amenities of a trans-Atlantic crossing 

as it was in the hey-day of the great Cunard 

liners. For Jack it was especially pleasant because 

he met Margaret Elizabeth Dumville, then a 

student at Columbia; they married two years 

later. Forty-six years is something of a record for 

an anthropological marriage, and those of us who 

know them cannot imagine Jack without Marge, 

or vice-versa. Their two daughters, Jane (1938), 

class of '61 at Mary Washington College, and 

Diane (1944), are both married and have children 

of their own. One pair of grandchildren lives in 

nearby Arlington; the other on a ranch in Montana. 

While some of us were off chasing Indians for 

John Collier, conducting (and losing) elections on 

the Indian Reorganization Act and serving as 

members of the applied anthropology unit of the 

Indian Field Service, which brought unwelcome 

information to the attention of the commissioner, 

Jack was laying a solid foundation in muscology 

as field curator in the National Park Service. He 

worked for five years at such sites as Morristown, 

New Jersey; Berkeley, California; and Macon, 

Georgia. When I arrived in Washington in February 1939 to join the Bureau of American Ethnology, I stayed a few nights with Ralph and 

Dorothy Lewis. Ralph was also with the Museum 

Division of the National Park Service, which had 

a workshop or studio in the old Ford Theatre. 

Jack was at work there, at least temporarily. This 

was at a time when the Smithsonian's National 
14 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Museum was doing virtually nothing about modernizing its exhibits; the exciting developments in 

interpretation and display were going on in the 

National Park Service, which had jurisdiction 

over historic sites ranging from prehistory to the 

present. Ralph Lewis and Jack Ewers were in the 

thick of this movement. 

In 1940 the Bureau of Indian Affairs decided 

to build a museum of the Plains Indian in Browning, Montana. No one in the country was better 

prepared to plan, design, and execute such a 

museum than Jack, who was summoned to the 

task by Dr. Willard Beatty, its broad-gage director of education, and Rene d'Harnancourt, then 

manager of the Indian Arts and Crafts Board 

(and afterward director of the Museum of Modern Art). 

For four years, from 1941 to 1944, Jack and 

Marge lived among the beloved old people of the 

Blackfeet at Browning. Here their daughters 

spent their early childhood. The museum gradually took shape. It was nearly completed in 1944 

when Jack went off to serve as a Naval officer for 

two years in the Pacific. Marge ran the museum 

in his absence. In Browning in September of 1950, 

when I was looking at factionalism in three trouble groups selected by the then Secretary of Interior, I briefly came to know some ranchers, 

young politicians who felt obligated to share with 

their kinsmen in the old pattern of generosity 

expected of leaders (which the Indian Service 

looked upon as graft). I interviewed and recorded 

some old people, and recall names like John 

Running Crane and Julia Wades-In-Water (who 

made ingenious use of an autograph book for 

soliciting gifts of unsuspecting summer tourists 

during the winds of winter). I also met a postmaster with the Virginia name of Taliafero. All 

of them fondly remembered the Ewers family. I 

also observed the drunks on main street and could 

appreciate how Browning was no place to bring 

up two daughters. 

One day in 1945 I had a phone call from Frank 

Setzler, the genial head curator of anthropology 

at the U.S. National Museum who gave wonderful parties, which we all remember. Although he 

and I disagreed on the direction that anthropology should take at the Smithsonian Institution, 

we did agree on one thing—that Jack Ewers 

would make a wonderful associate curator of 

ethnology at the National Museum. 

Jack's two predecessors in the post, though 

gifted anthropologists, had interests that drew 

them away from the collections. W.W. "Nib" Hill 

was a Navajo specialist with strong interests in 

material culture; he later published with Clyde 

Kluckhohn. But Hill very much wanted to teach 

and went off to Albuquerque to build a department of anthropology. Joe Weckler was a social 

anthropologist out of Chicago, whose field was 

Oceania. He wrote a brilliant war background 

study on Polynesia for the Ethnogeographic 

Board, and he was soon commissioned as an 

officer in Naval Intelligence. Their superior and 

Jack's new boss at the Museum, Herbert Krieger, 

had long since been passed by in the stream of 

anthropology represented by his younger associates from the universities, and he withdrew from 

most coUegial activities. He had once played the 

violin, however, and I dropped by one noon hour 

to find a collection of instruments spread out on 

table tops. I picked up one instrument and commenced to tune it, when I sensed by the changed 

look on Krieger's face that there was someone 

standing at the door. I turned to be greeted by 

the then director of the U.S. National Museum, 

who chided me that the instruments were not to 

be played lest other scientists be disturbed, and 

he reminded me that I had been hired as an 

anthropologist at the Bureau of Ethnology. I was 

not expected to mess with collections. I relate this 

incident because it says something about the 

atmosphere into which Jack moved and the social 

distance from the Bureau. 

Jack's capacity for sustained hard work both at 

writing and exhibit-planning defies imagination; 

but the evidence is there in the steady stream of 

publications and in the museums and exhibits 

that he has created. Whenever I have dropped in 

on him at the Smithsonian I found him pounding 

the typewriter with four fingers, filling drawers 

with cards containing notes on specimens, pas-
NUMBER 30 15 

sages from books and articles, and bibliography. 

Somehow these all get translated into felicitous 

prose. Even his letters are long and thoughtful, in 

the nineteenth-century mode before there were 

telephones and other devices that fracture 

thought. I am told that he has worn out several 

typewriters. It is also suspected that he has worked 

after hours and on weekends at home. 

That kind of industry and virtue is still rewarded. When the Smithsonian finally got moving on its exhibits renovation program. Jack, after 

a decade as curator, became its planning officer. 

Within three years, he became assistant director 

and then director of the Museum of History and 

Technology, when that new museum building 

was contemplated. Once the Museum of History 

and Technology was built and established, Jack 

was rewarded with the self-directed research post 

as senior scientist, which he held until retirement. 

Much of this progress was accomplished during 

the regime of Secretary Leonard Carmichael and 

under Frank Taylor, who saw to it that Jack, in 

1965, was the recipient of the first Exceptional 

Service Award of the Smithsonian Institution. 

Three years later. Dr. Carmichael nominated him 

for an honorary Doctor of Science at our alma 

mater, Dartmouth College. 

Having built and installed museums in Montana and the District of Columbia, Jack was in 

demand from other institutions as a consultant 

and advisor. His contributions to the history of 

the West, the ethnology of the Northern Plains, 

and the field of muscology have brought Jack 

national recognition. The University of Montana 

honored him with an LL.D. in 1966; a decade 

later, he received the Oscar O. Winther Memorial 

Award of the Western History Association. Indeed, the foremost historian of the frontier, Ray 

Allen Billington of the Henry E. Huntington 

Library, has frequently commented on Jack's 

contributions to Western history and applauded 

his participation in the "Westerners," a society of 

laymen, in which historians and western history 

buffs mingle in good fellowship, high spirits, and 

hardy food. 

Such outreach in public service is not always 

as rewarding. Serving on boards of learned societies and museums, though a valuable professional contribution, takes a writer away from his 

desk. The public service can also be traumatic. 

Jack served as trustee, and then as chairman of 

the board of the Museum of the American Indian 

(Heye Foundation) during a difficult period in its 

recent history. A trustee of a charitable trust is 

liable for the assets of the trust and the conduct 

of its employees. A judgment against the trust 

must be satisifed by the trustees. Jack worried 

through a stipulation of the Supreme Court of 

New York against the museum that specified the 

dismissal of its then director, the ouster of certain 

named trustees, the return of certain collections, 

demanded an inventory of the remaining collections, and then impaneled a new board of 

trustees. Those of us who have served on the new 

board are aware that the Museum of the American Indian is happily out of the woods, its collections have been completely inventoried and computerized, a policy on collections has been established and published, there is a vigorous new 

director, professional staff has been hired, some 

missing items have been recovered, two smashing 

exhibits were staged at the Old Customs House 

on Bowling Green, and, for the first time, the 

Museum is no longer dipping into endowment 

for operations. A great deal of this progress is due 

to Jack's patience and perseverance. Thus, it is 

fitting that the museum where he commenced his 

research as a graduate student should honor him 

on retirement from its board as Trustee Emeritus. 

As retirement approached, Jack cut his lines to 

marginal activities to concentrate on writing projects. Most scholars have this continuing need to 

write up material collected in earlier years of field 

work, museum, and library research, which we 

publish for our own satisfaction, and perhaps for 

the edification of a wider audience. By publishing 

our understandings of certain selected subjects in 

the light of problems that sent us to investigate 

them, we perhaps can point out some leads to 

future scholars. As Kroeber indicated (1959), 

when discussing anthropology as a humanity, the 

great contributions are made by those persons 
16 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

who Stick to a topic and area for a long period of 

time and develop insights that are unique. The 

publishing career of John C. Ewers fits this model 

nicely. 

Even a personal view of his career calls for 

some comment on Ewers' works. I am an incurable addict of reprint collecting. It is a disease I 

caught in the dusty old Bureau of American 

Ethnology library before the Smithsonian Institution building metamorphosed into Renwick 

Hall, when the then librarian, who hated Boas 

and his ilk with a passion and thought reprints a 

design of the Devil to annoy her profession, cast 

the reprint collection on the floor of the stacks for 

Bureau scientists to retrieve before they went into 

the trash. I have been collecting and cataloging 

them ever since. It was a simple matter to retrieve 

14 cards from the catalog and as many separate 

reprints bearing the name of J.C. Ewers. They 

fall into three categories: ethnology of the Blackfeet and their neighbors on the Northern Plains 

(7); portraiture and painting of Indians (5); and 

museum exhibits (2). I should like to mention five 

books—two in the first category, and three in the 

second—that are standard works on the subjects 

treated. Two are classics. The entire Ewers genre 

reveals sustained interest in the visual arts, technology (or material culture), history, ethnography, ethnohistory, and the interpretation of collections through museum planning and exhibits. 

Of his books. The Horse in Blackfoot Indian Culture 

(1955), fulfills Leslie Spier's dictum that a work 

on material culture should enable the reader to 

reproduce the technology described. I am confident, though I have never attempted it, that from 

the descriptions and illustrations one could set up 

and pack a travois, load a pack horse, move camp, 

and set up the lodges. But what makes the work 

a classic, meriting its inclusion as the third in the 

new series of Smithsonian Classics in Anthropology in 

the company of works by James Mooney and 

John R. Swanton, is that it describes a whole 

round of related activities that gave Blackfoot life 

its distinctive quality. This accolade is both a 

tribute to Jack and to the tradition of the Bureau 

of American Ethnology. The Bureau met its demise in the interests of administrative management, but its Bulletin series stands as an enduring 

monument. 

It is evident that Jack did a great deal of his 

writing after hours, at home, on evenings and 

weekends. That kind of dedication requires energy, intensity, and persistence. His university 

press books were produced in this manner. The 

writing is not in the least pedestrian; it is never 

obscure or overburdened with the theory of the 

moment. Indeed, Jack never learned to write like 

a social scientist. Somewhere he had a good English teacher, for his works contain some fine passages. 

The foreword to his book. The Blackfeet: Raiders 

on the Northwestern Plains (1958), pays tribute to 

Clark Wissler, who certainly was proud of him. 

Wissler has long since gone to the sand hills like 

Jack's old informants. In 1969, the Smithsonian 

Institution Press published a handsome edition of 

Jean Louis Berlandier's The Indians of Texas in 

1830, which Jack edited and to which he contributed an introduction. The Dartmouth Alumni 

Magazine of June 1969 carried a glowing review 

of this book by Professor Robert Riegel, himself 

a distinguished historian of the West. Riegel, who 

is remembered by Dartmouth alumni for his 

course "Cowboys and Indians" and for being first 

violinist of the Handel Society of Hanover, wrote: 

"Even the most casual glance at the scholarly 

characteristics of the book will bring recognition 

of Ewers' immense erudition, his great diligence, 

and his scholarly standards." 

Two years previously, Yale University Press 

issued a centennial edition of George Catlin's 

0-Kee-Pa: A Religious Ceremony . . . of the Mandans, 

which had a somewhat checkered history before 

the London edition of 1867. Jack explains all of 

this in the introduction. Catlin's controversial 

work was issued with a Folium Reservatum, so necessary to the protection of morals in Victorian 

England, because Catlin describes the artifi:i;\l 

phallus and related accoutrements of the O-ke 

hee-de dancer and his participation and movements in the Buffalo fertility rite, the threatening 

of women and children who are saved from as-
NUMBER 30 17 

sault by the medicine pipe, their driving him onto 

the prairie, his emasculation, and the return of 

the women in triumph. In the intervening century 

the times and the morals have changed. We can 

be grateful to Catlin, who depicted and described 

activities no longer available for study and gave 

rise to a tradition in the graphic arts and writing 

to which Ewers is the heir and master. 

In Artists of the Old West (1973), which he 

dedicates to his daughter Diane, who shares her 

father's talents and interests in the Old West, 

Jack has assembled his previous monographic 

studies of individual artists who were at once 

explorers and historians, from Charles Wilson 

Peale to Charles M. Russell. The portraits of 

Charles Bird King and John Neagle are especially 

important just now, when certain extant collections may be scattered into private hands. Peter 

Rindisbacher's dancers and domestic scenes have 

an especial appeal. And Karl Bodmer's "Hidatsa 

Dog Dancer" recalls the frontispiece of Wissler's 

American Indian (1922). As a student of the Iroquois 

I am particularly grateful for the pencil sketches 

of Pierre, an Iroquois farmer, and Aeneas, the 

Iroquois guide to Father DeSmet, by Gustavus 

Sohon for what they convey about the Iroquois 

voyageurs in the West and because they link Jack 

to my own area of research. 

On this note let me end this tribute to an old 

friend and an esteemed scholar who has illuminated a whole area of discovery for our enlightenment. 

Literature Cited 

Ewers, John C. 

1939. Plains Indian Painting: A Description of an Aboriginal 

American Art. Palo Alto: Stanford University 

Press. 

1955. The Hoise in Blackfoot Indian Culture, with Comparative Material from Other Western Tribes. 

Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 159. 

1958. The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

1965. Artists of the Old West. Garden City, New York: 

Doubleday and Company. 

Ewers, John C , editor 

1967. 0-Kee-Pa: A Religious Ceremony and Other Customs of 

the Mandans, by George Catlin. New Haven: Yale 

University Press. 

1969. The Indians of Texas in 1830, by Jean Louis Berlandier. Washington, D.C: Smithsonian Institution 

Press. 

Kroeber, A.L. 

1959. The History of the Personality of Anthropology. 

American Anthropologist, 61:398-404. 

Riegel, Robert E. 

1969. Review of the Indians of Texas in 1830, by Jean 

Louis Berlandier. Dartmouth Alumni Magazine 

(June), page 14. 

Wissler, Clark 

1922. The American Indian: An Introduction to the Anthropology 

of the New World. 2nd edition. New York: Oxford 

University Press. 

1942. The American Indian and the American Philosophical Society. American Philosophical Society Proceedings, 86:189-204. 
Waldo R. Wedel, Archeologist: 

Perspectives that Grew in the Plains 

James H. Gunnerson 

ABSTRACT 

Dr. Waldo R. Wedel has devoted his career to 

research and writing on Plains archeology and 

ethnohistory, his comprehension of which is unmatched. Furthermore, his establishing cultural 

chronologies, his relating cultures to their environment and his identifying archeological complexes with known tribes are all outstanding contributions to anthropological methodology. 

I am honored to have been asked to present an 

evaluation of Dr. Waldo R. Wedel's contributions 

to the field of anthropology, but I am also humbled by the realization that no evaluation could 

be adequate. Even though officially retired, he is 

perhaps more active than ever before in his research, with each additional publication becoming more significant as he pursues a career characterized by steady intellectual achievement. 

Thus, this paper can be considered no more than 

an interim evaluation of a highly productive career. 

The temptation was great simply to reiterate 

Wedel's autobiographical paper, "The Education 

of a Plains Archeologist," which he presented 

at the 34th Plains Anthropological Conference 

in 1976 (Wedel, 1977a). I have drawn heavily 

on this exceedingly thoughtful publication. I 

strongly recommend that you read it all. 

It was also a great temptation to collect and 

James H. Gunnerson, University of Nebraska State Museum, Lincoln, 

Nebraska 68588. 

present reminiscences and anecdotes concerning 

Wedel from his many friends, as for instance, 

Emil Haury, with whom Wedel grew up in Newton, Kansas, and whom he followed to the University of Arizona; Philip Drucker, a fellow graduate student at the University of California; and 

former members of his crews, many of whom 

have become professionals in anthropology. Some 

people who could have contributed most to such 

a project, such as William Duncan Strong and 

A.T. Hill, have been gone for a number of years, 

while others like George Metcalf, who for many 

years assisted Wedel in the field and laboratory 

(Wedel, 1978a), have died more recently. It is of 

interest to realize that Wedel is the only person 

still professionally active who attended the first 

Plains conference. Although a collection of reminiscences is beyond the scope of this paper, it 

should be collected and published as part of the 

lore of Plains archeology. 

Instead, as a friend and professional colleague, 

I will bring to your attention Wedel's contributions to Plains archeology. Wedel and his early 

associates set the tone and direction of Plains 

archeology. They were few in number, diverse in 

personality and background, but they all were 

highly motivated. When Wedel set out on a career 

in Plains archeology, there was no mold into 

which he was to fit; indeed, he had much to do 

with creating a mold for future workers. 

The field of professionally trained archeologists 

was small. In fact, Wedel in 1936 was the first 

anthropologist to receive a doctorate at the University of California with a dissertation that fo18 
NUMBER 30 19 

cused on archeology. The number of jobs was 

even smaller and funds for research nearly nonexistent. Perhaps even more important, with regard to the Plains, was the fact that current 

anthropological wisdom suggested there was no 

significant archeology to be done there. Instead, 

the widespread conviction existed that before the 

horse and gun, the Plains was virtually uninhabited. However, having already worked with 

Strong at Signal Butte, in the Loup River Valley 

and eastern Nebraska, Wedel realized this was a 

false viewpoint; Indians had occupied the Plains 

for centuries. He made up his mind that he 

wanted to learn more about these Plainsmen and 

how they adapted to the changing Plains environment. 

It was Carl Sauer, geographer at the University 

of California, who stimulated Wedel to recognize 

the need for a long-term commitment to problems 

in the Plains. Wedel tells us (1977a: 7): 

To be a regional specialist demanded not only a patiently 

acquired familiarity with the current landscape, but also 

learning how it was under past conditions and, most importantly, how it wa5 perceived by the now-vanished peoples of 

another culture who were coming under study. I was prepared to accept what Sauer said of the historical geographer 

with regional specialization in mind—"Such work obviously 

cannot be done by sample studies ranging widely, but may 

require a lifetime given to learning one major context of 

nature and culture ... . The human geographer cannot be 

world tourist, moving from people to people and land to 

land, and knowing only casually and doubtfully related 

things about any of them." 

Wedel's determination to concentrate on archeology in the Plains area, along with his marked 

ability and a great deal of empathy for the Plains, 

has placed him in a position of preeminence in 

that field for decades. No one has matched his 

contributions over the years and he has no heir 

apparent. 

Wedel's undergraduate work, commenced at 

Bethel College in North Newton, Kansas, was 

completed in 1930 at the University of Arizona 

under Dean Byron Cummings. At that time no 

university in the Plains offered a graduate degree 

in anthropology, so Wedel chose Arizona. Even 

before going there, he purchased and read A.V. 

Kidder's Introduction to Southwestern Archaeology, a 

volume which greatly impressed him, particularly 

for its presentation of the continuity between 

prehistory and the present. In addition to serving 

on a crew excavating a prehistoric site in Arizona 

during his undergraduate days, Wedel had the 

opportunity to visit the Hopi pueblos. With regard to his Arizona experience, Wedel (1977a:3) 

writes: 

For me, as it has been for countless others from regions 

with lesser monuments of antiquity, the archeology of the 

Southwest—its cliff dwellings, casas grandes, irrigation 

works, etc.—were wonders indeed. So were the Hopi pueblos, 

to which the Dean's summer field parties were taken as a 

reward for their season of unpaid labor in the pits at Turkey 

Hill Pueblo near Flagstaff. A heavy rain shower had just 

pEissed over the Hopi mesas, and drenched rabbit-fur robes 

and other textiles had been hung on lines to dry. Along with 

the nearby wet garbage dumps, these lent a peculiar pungency to the otherwise clean fresh desert air—perhaps something like Henry Brackenridge experienced during his visit 

at the Leavenworth Arikara village in 1811. 

A few years later at the urging of A.E. Kroeber, 

Wedel participated in an ethnographic field 

school directed by Ralph Linton among the Comanche in Oklahoma. In focusing on material 

culture, Wedel discovered for himself that artifacts like those he had found in prehistoric Nebraska sites (Wedel, 1977a:4) were still made and 

used by modern Indians. Through both his academic training and his field experience, cultural 

continuity became a reality in his thinking. 

The year 1936, when Wedel's doctoral dissertation "Some Historical and Ethnic Aspects of 

Nebraska Archeology" was accepted, was a vintage year for anthropologists. That year Harold 

Driver received his doctorate, also from California; Clyde Kluckhohn and David Mandelbaum 

received theirs from Harvard and Yale, respectively; and James Griffin received his from the 

University of Michigan. 

Although Wedel has worked at archeological 

sites outside the Plains, namely, in California at 

Buena Vista Lake (1941a), in San Francisco Bay 

shell mounds, and elsewhere; at La Venta, Tabasco, Mexico (1952), and in the Virginia area 

(Stewart and Wedel, 1937; Wedel, 1951), his 
20 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

career of 50 years has centered in the Plains area. 

He has carried on excavations in most of the 

Plains states: South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, 

Wyoming, Colorado, and Texas; and in so doing 

he has explored cultural remains of Indians of the 

paleolithic period, of the prehistoric periods (Archaic, Central Plains, Nebraska Culture, and socalled classic Oneota), and of historic Pawnee, 

Kansas, and Wichita. It is his vast experience in 

the Plains as a whole and his interest in broadly 

based anthropological research problems dealing 

with culture continuity and change, with dynamic problems of the relationship between man 

and his changing environment, and with the 

interaction between neighboring Indian groups 

that have prepared him for writing general summaries of Plains prehistory, certainly the best ever 

presented. They have appeared in his book Prehistoric Man On the Great Plains (1961a) and subsequently in chapter-length expositions (1963, 

1978b, and revision of 1963 now in press). Other 

archeologists have published monographs on specific sites and subregions or have included summaries of Plains prehistory as parts of broader 

treatments of prehistory, but none has provided 

comparable Plains-wide syntheses. 

The title of "Dean of Plains Archeology" would 

be completely appropriate for Wedel today. However, in his autobiographical article, Wedel 

(1977a) recognizes and appreciates the value of 

the groundwork laid before his professional career 

took shape by individuals without professional 

training in archeology, as for example, in Nebraska, E.E. Blackman, A.T. Hill, and Robert 

Gilder (for others, see Wedel, 1981). He also 

acknowledges the inspiring influence that William Duncan Strong had on his developing 

professional orientation, as will be noted. What 

does not come out is the influence that Wedel, 

the student, had on the thinking of his mentor 

and good friend. When Wedel entered the University of Nebraska in 1930, Strong had been in 

the anthropology department there for only a 

year, having come directly from ethnographic 

field work in Labrador. However, Strong had 

done some archeology on the northwest coast 

where he had grown up. Wedel was a Kansan by 

birth and the Plains were a part of him. A fruitful 

exchange of ideas prevailed. Interestingly, it was 

Wedel who plugged for the classificatory term 

"Upper Republican," finally persuading his professor to substitute it for "Prehistoric Pawnee," 

Strong's original name for that category of archeological materials. It was Wedel, too, who later 

refined and continued to make more precise 

Strong's first temporal and geographical ordering 

of Central Plains archeological units resulting, 

among others, in the classic presentations titled 

"Culture Sequence in the Central Great Plains" 

(1940), and "Culture Chronology in the Central 

Great Plains" (1947). 

Wedel's influence on the development of archeology in areas outside the Plains has been far 

greater than his outlying field work would suggest. It has been primarily methodological. Wedel 

was one of the early proponents of studies involving environment and prehistoric peoples. His paper (1956) on changing settlement patterns in the 

Great Plains was an early presentation of that 

concept. Through his own effective use of the 

"direct historical approach" and explanations of 

benefits to be derived from the methodology, he 

has persuaded a number of others to employ it. 

More subtle has been his influence on other 

scholars through his caution in interpretation and 

his insistence that it be based firmly on hard data. 

Much of his field work has been problem-oriented 

in order to provide the data base necessary for 

sound interpretation. 

During Wedel's student days, much of the 

emphasis in Plains archeology was on taxonomy. 

The Midwestern Taxonomic System had recently 

been formulated by W.C. McKern (1939) and 

others. Plains archeology still shows its linguistic 

survivals. Some of Wedel's early writing reflects 

this concern with taxonomy, but where he presents trait lists, he shows none of the preoccupation with taxonomy as an end in itself common 

at the time. Even when using the Midwestern 

Taxonomic System, Wedel concentrated on the 

smaller units—components, foci, and aspects— 

where he was close to the basic data. He has been 

more concerned with diagnostic traits or index 

artifacts than with percentages of traits. At times 
NUMBER 30 21 

he has viewed statistical and computer studies 

with suspicion especially when he feels samples 

are too small or that conclusions have slighted 

other kinds of pertinent evidence. 

At the University of Arizona, Wedel had a class 

under the famed physiographer, William Morris 

Davis, who stressed relationships between man 

and his environment. Subsequently, while Wedel 

was at Nebraska, that university was an active 

center for ecological studies with such faculty as 

Irving H. Blake, David D. Whitney, Harold W. 

Manter, and, especially, John D. Weaver, all of 

whom were building on earlier work by such 

scholars as Charles Bessey, Roscoe Pound, F.C. 

Clements, and Paul Sears. The same year that 

Wedel arrived at Nebraska, William Van Royen, 

with similar interests, joined the geography faculty. Courses and personal conversations with 

Van Royen on archeology and physiography 

were particularly stimulating to Wedel and contributed substantively to his understanding and 

appreciation of the interaction between man and 

his Plains environment. In fact, Wedel stayed on 

at Nebraska for a year after he received his M.A. 

to take additional courses in geography, as well 

as anthropology, before going to the University 

of California. There he was discouraged by Kroeber in the pursuit of his developing interests. He 

did, however, find a sympathetic faculty member 

from the Department of Geography, Carl Sauer, 

who further stimulated his interest in ecology. As 

Wedel (1977a:6) recalls: 

It was Sauer whose lectures and teaching were of prime 

significance in formulating my own later approaches to 

Plains human ecology. His course in North American geography, drawing freely from geology, climatology, paleontology, archeology, ethnography, history, folklore, and other 

disciplines now forgotten to me, epitomized his philosophy 

that "all knowledge is one," and there are many ways to 

search for it. 

It is indeed fortunate for Plains archeology that 

Wedel determinedly persisted in viewing the 

physical environment as an important factor in 

the shaping of cultures. Previously some authors 

had carried such ideas to the extreme of environmental determinism, but Wedel pioneered in putting environmental interpretation on a sound 

scientific footing. His "Environment and Native 

Subsistence Economies in the Central Great 

Plains" (1941b) and "Some Aspects of Human 

Ecology in the Central Plains" (Wedel, 1953a, 

1961b) are classics. He has also focused on more 

limited studies pertaining to Indian use of the 

environment, as in his recent research (1978c) on 

the prairie turnip, a plant whose root was an 

important food resource for many Plains tribes. 

This has involved visits almost annually to the 

natural prairie near Salina, Kansas, maintained 

by Joyce and Nick Pent, where he has observed, 

photographed, dug, and eaten the turnip. 

Wedel has perpetuated other of Sauer's teachings in being a strong advocate of the multidisciplinary approach. He believes in combining 

archeological evidence with that from disciplines 

outside anthropology (e.g., geography, ecology, 

climatology), as well as with evidence from other 

anthropological subdisciplines (e.g., ethnology 

and ethnohistory). In so doing, he has been able 

to provide a rich understanding of the dynamics 

of past cultures. The recent publication edited by 

him, "Toward Plains Caddoan Origins: A Symposium" (1979) is an illustration of this interest. 

In addition to using professional sources, Wedel 

has queried ranchers and farmers for information 

based on their firsthand experiences and observations in the Plains, in relation, for example, to 

problems concerning Indian agriculture or durability of earthlodge timbers. He has always listened to amateurs and has acknowledged benefitting from information gained from them. 

Wedel has long been particularly interested in 

consulting documentary sources as an aid in archeological interpretation. Under Strong's tutelage, and with the cooperation of A.T. Hill, 

Wedel in 1930 applied to Nebraska archeology, 

specifically Pawnee, what he apparently was the 

first to call the "direct historical method" (1938a), 

a form of ethnohistory. Wedel wrote nostalgically 

of this experience (1977a:3): 

To me, at Nebraska in 1930, he [Strong] assigned as an 

M.A. project, the task of analyzing the historic Pawnee 

materials already assembled in Nebraska—a truly pleasant 

experience in graduate study, with Strong playing the master 

and I the apprentice. It was a mutually satisfying program, 
22 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Strong himself writing long years later that he regarded the 

Nebraska field work as the start of his career in "real" 

archeology. 

Strong's name is closely linked, of course, with the direct 

historical approach, subtitled by him as "proceeding from 

the known (documentary-ethnological) to the unknown (prehistoric-archeological)." He was not the first to apply it in 

the region but as a workable approach in a region where 

archeological research had lagged so far behind the ethnographical, he gave it respectability and durability. In undertaking it, he was also taking advantage of the fact that a 

dedicated local non-professional, A.T. Hill, had already 

carried out much of the documentary and preliminary field 

work on the Pawnee, and had located and surface-hunted 

most of their sites of the 19th century. 

The master's thesis that resulted from this study 

was titled "An Introduction to Pawnee Archeology" (1936). It linked historic occupation of certain Pawnee bands with specific archeological 

sites. 

An important section of Waldo's tome "An 

Introduction to Kansas Archeology" (1959) presents ethnohistorical data on the historic Indians 

of that region. Wedel (1941c, 1942) persuasively 

confirmed the identification proposed by Jones 

and Bolton (Bolton, 1949:291, 293) for the location of sixteenth and early seventeenth century 

"Quivira" between the Great Bend of the Arkansas River and the Smoky Hill River. This was 

accomplished through excavation in a number of 

village sites where chain mail and Southwestern 

pottery were found, an archeological category he 

named the Great Bend Aspect, and by further 

study of Coronado and Ofiate documents that 

detailed the land visited by the Spaniards. 

Another feature of Wedel's interpretive research has been his humanistic viewpoint. As he 

considers archeological remains, he is always 

thinking in terms of the people who made and 

used them. 

As a basis for his interpretive studies, Wedel 

has done a monumental amount of field work in 

the Plains, which is attested to by his extensive 

bibliography. His earliest fieldwork in the region 

was with W.D. Strong, but his earliest publications resulted from summer fieldwork carried out, 

during postgraduate years at California, under 

A.T. Hill, then with the Nebraska Historical 

Society. Materials from the Leary Oneota site, 

excavated by Hill in 1933-1934 and 1935, were 

analyzed and reported upon the following year 

(Hill and Wedel, 1936) after Wedel's departure 

from California. Immediately before joining the 

Smithsonian Institution, Waldo made pottery 

collections from numerous sites in Nebraska for 

Gila Pueblo, the research organization founded 

by Harold Gladwin. This was a project prompted 

by similarities between cord-roughened pottery 

found in Asia and that found in North America. 

Shortly after joining the Smithsonian in 1936, 

Wedel turned his attention to a Hopewell site 

(1938b) and a Middle Mississippian one (1943) 

in the northwest corner of Missouri, western manifestations of archeological cultures better known 

farther to the east. These, plus several of his 

shorter papers, have provided the basis for interpretation of the prehistory of the Kansas City 

region, one that has not been significantly altered 

by subsequent research at the same sites. It was 

in this period that Wedel made some of the 

earliest, if not indeed the earliest, aerial photographs of archeological sites in the Great Plains. 

These include the Renner site, Platte County, 

Missouri, on 25 June 1937 (1943); Buffalo Pasture 

and Sully Village sites. South Dakota, on 28 July 

1939 (1947); and Medicine Creek, Nebraska, on 

1 and 10 July 1948 (1953b). Thereafter a survey 

of Kansas archeology was begun, which culminated after a quarter of a century in his 

"Introduction to Kansas Archeology" (Wedel, 

1959), a major portion of which reports his own 

field work. Since the appearance of this monumental work, Wedel had devoted four additional 

seasons between 1965 and 1971 to excavation at 

protohistoric Wichita (Great Bend Aspect) sites. 

It was during this period that he recognized a 

possible orientation of three villages of the Great 

Bend Aspect with solstice readings (1967, 1977b), 

an archeoastronomical interpretation that stimulated searches for other structural evidences of 

astronomical phenomena in the Plains. 

The Kansas survey was interrupted when 

Wedel served from 1946 to 1949 as field director 

of the Smithsonian Institution's Missouri River 
NUMBER 30 23 

Basin Surveys, established to salvage archeological and paleontological material threatened with 

destruction by the building of numerous dams in 

the Missouri River basin. It fell to him to organize 

and quickly make operational this wide-spread 

program that required the cooperation of several 

government agencies and many diverse institutions. His numerous summaries, published between 1947 and 1967, of work carried out under 

the auspices of the River Basin Surveys provide 

overviews of this massive project. 

In 1951 Wedel turned his attention to an Arikara site (39ST1) located at the mouth of the 

Cheyenne River in South Dakota, where he continued excavation in 1955-1956. These materials 

are now being analyzed. Wedel participated as 

archeologist in two Smithsonian archeologicalpaleontological expeditions, one at the Wyoming 

Horner site in 1952 in collaboration with Glenn 

Jepsen of Princeton University where paleolithic 

man had hunted bison, and at the Lamb Springs 

site near Littleton, Colorado, in 1961-1962, where 

piles of similar bison and mammoth bones suggest 

early man, possibly pre-Clovis, had hunted. Dennis Stanford of the Smithsonian continued the 

excavation program at this site in 1980 (Stanford, 

Wedel, and Scott, 1981). 

Two summer seasons were spent at an archaic 

site in Chalk Hollow, in the Texas Panhandle 

near Canyon. There in the canyon wall, Wedel 

(1975) exposed a chronology of archaic manifestations that extended over a period from 1600 

B.C. to A.D. 800. 

In addition to Wedel's brilliant research career, 

he has had substantial administrative experience. 

In the Department of Anthropology at the Smithsonian, which he joined in 1936 as assistant curator of archeology, he ultimately became curator 

of archeology in 1950. During a critical period, 

he headed the unit then called Office of Anthropology. Retiring from the position of senior archeologist in 1976, he now serves as archeologist 

emeritus, continuing to go to his office three days 

a week and to maintain an active research career. 

Wedel has been a staunch supporter of the anthropological profession. He has been a regular 

participant in the Plains Conference. He served 

as secretary of the Society for American Archeology for several years in the 1940s, ultimately 

becoming its president in 1948-1949. He was 

president of the Anthropological Society of Washington in 1951-1952. 

The outstanding contributions of Wedel have 

not gone unrecognized. He was recipient of the 

1947 award in biological sciences from the Washington Academy of Sciences for distinguished 

service in investigations of prehistory of human 

ecology in the Great Plains. In 1965, he was 

elected to the National Academy of Sciences, and 

in 1971 received a Distinguished Alumnus Award 

from Bethel College. The University of Nebraska 

awarded him an honorary doctorate in 1972; the 

citation reads: "In recognition of his outstanding 

leadership in understanding the cultural evolution of the Plains peoples, with appreciation for 

his efforts to emphasize the importance of the 

natural environment in the area, and with pride 

for his performance as an Alumnus. ... " 

Finally, Wedel's profound influence in the 

shaping of the careers of younger archeologists 

for nearly a half century is perhaps unique in 

that he has never been a member of a university 

faculty. Faculty members have in their students 

a captive audience to whom ideas, methodology, 

and interpretations are transmitted. Wedel, a 

professor without a classroom, has exerted his 

influence through the strength of his publications 

and papers and through his contacts with students who have worked with him in the field and 

as Smithsonian fellows. He has always been willing to talk with and advise students. 

Perhaps the real indication of Wedel's eminence is to be seen in the literature with over one 

hundred thirty publications at last count, most of 

these items reflecting original research and knowledge gained from wide reading. Not only is the 

bibliography extensive, it is solid and well written. 

Wedel is recognized as a superb writer, which 

explains in part his irritation with those who 

substitute jargon for adequate English. 

No one else has his comprehension of Plains 

archeology: perspectives that grew in the Plains. 
24 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Literature Cited 

Bolton, H.E. 

1949. Coronado: Knight of Pueblos and Plains. Whittlesey 

House and University of New Mexico Press. 1953a. 

Hill, A.T., and W.R. Wedel 

1936. Excavations at the Leary Indian Village and Bur- 1953b. 

ial Site, Richardson County, Nebraska. Nebraska 

History Magazine, 17(l):2-73. 

McKern, W.C. 

1939. The Midwestern Taxonomic Method as an Aid to 

Archeological Study. American Antiquity, 4:301- 1956. 

313. 

Stanford, Dennis J., W.R. Wedel, and G.R. Scott 

1981. Archeological Investigations of the Lamb Spring 

Site. Southwestern Lore, 47(1): 14-27. 1959. 

Stewart, T.D., and W.R. Wedel 

1937. The Finding of Two Ossuaries on the Site of the 1961a. 

Indian Village of Nacotchtanke (Anacostia).yo!/?'-

nal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, 27(5) :213- 1961b. 

219. 

Wedel, Waldo R. 

1936. An Introduction to Pawnee Archeology. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 112. 

1938a. The Direct-Historical Approach in Pawnee Archeology. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 1963. 

97(7):1-21. 

1938b. Hopewellian Remains near Kansas City, Missouri. 

Proceedings of the U.S. National Museum, 86(3045) :99-

106. 1967. 

1940. Culture Sequence in the Central Great Plains. 

Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 100:291-352. 

1941a. Archeological Investigations at Buena Vista Lake, 1975. 

Kern County, California. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 130:1-170, 189-194. 

1941b. Environment and Native Subsistence Economies 1977a. 

in the Central Great Plains. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 101(3): 1-29. 1977b. 

1941c. In Search of Coronado's "Province of Quivira." In 

Explorations and Field- Work of the Smithsonian Institution in 1940, pages 71-74. Washington, D. C : 

Smithsonian Institution. 1978a. 

1942. Archeological Remains in Central Kansas and 

Their Possible Bearing on the Location of Quivira. 

Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 101(7): 1-24. 

1943. Archeological Investigations in Platte and Clay 

Counties, Missouri. U.S. National Museum Bulletin, 1978b. 

183:viiH-1-244, 275-284. 

1947. Culture Chronology in the Central Great Plains. 

American Antiquity, 12(3, pt.l):148-156. 1978c. 

1951. Archeological Reconnaissance near Saltville, Virginia, in 1940. Archeological Society of Virginia Quarterly Bulletin, 5(4): 1-2. 1979. 

1952. Structural Investigations in 1943. In Philip 

Drucker, La Venta, Tabasco: A Study of Olmec 1981. 

Ceramics and Art. Bureau of American Ethnology 

Bulletin, 153:34-79. 

Some Aspects of Human Ecology in the Central 

Plains. American Anthropologist, 55(4):499-514. 

Prehistory and Missouri Valley Development Program: Summary Report on the Missouri River 

Basin Archeological Survey in 1949. (River Basin 

Surveys Paper 2.) Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 154:61-101. 

Changing Settlement Patterns in the Great Plains. 

In G.R. Willey, editor, Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the New World. Viking Fund Publications in 

Anthropology, 23:81-92. 

An Introduction to Kansas Archeology. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 174. 

Prehistoric Man on the Great Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

Some Aspects of Human Ecology in the Central 

Plains. In George A. Theodorson, editor. Studies in 

Human Ecology, pages 451-461. Cordoba, Mexico: 

Instituto Nacional de Antrppologia E Historia. 

[Reprinted from American Anthropologist (1953), 

55(4):499-514.] 

The Great Plains. In J.D. Jennings and E. Norbeck, editors, Prehistoric Man in the New World, 

pages 193-220. Chicago: University of Chicago 

Press. 

The Council Circles of Central Kansas: Were 

They Solstice Registers? American Antiquity, 

32(l):54-63. 

Chalk Hollow: Culture Sequence and Chronology 

in the Texas Panhandle. Proceedings of the XLI 

International Congress of Americanists, 1:270-278. 

The Education of a Plains Archeologist. Plains 

Anthropologist, 22 (75): 1 -11 . 

Native Astronomy and the Plains Caddoans. In 

Anthony F. Aveni, editor, Native American Astronomy, pages 131-145. Austin: University of Texas 

Press. 

George Metcalf, an Appreciation. In Donald J. 

Blakeslee, editor. The Central Plains Tradition: 

Internal Dynamics and External Relationships. 

Office of the Iowa State Archaeologist Report, 11:4-5. 

Iowa City: University of Iowa. 

The Prehistoric Plains. In J.D. Jennings, editor, 

Ancient Native Americans, pages 182-219. San Francisco: W.H. Freeman & Co. 

Notes on the Prairie Turnip (Psoralea esculenta) 

among the Plains Indians. Nebraska History, 

59(2): 154-179. 

[Editor.] Toward Plains Caddoan Origins: A Symposium. Nebraska History, 60(2). 

Toward a History of Plains Archeology. Great 

Plains Quarterly, 1 (1): 16-38. 
Bibliography of John C. Ewers 

1932 

1. The Race Bogy in Art: An Essay on Criticism. The League, 1932 (Spring): 11, 16. 

1936 

2. Teton Dakota, Ethnology, and History. Berkeley: U. S. Department of the Interior. 

1938 

3. Portrait of an Artist in Action. In G.A. Campbell and J.E. Mosely, editors. My Dad, 

Preacher, Pastor, Person, pages 48-53. St. Louis: Christian Board of Publication. 

4. The Role of the Indian in National Expansion. St. Louis: U. S. Department of the Interior. 

1939 

5. Plains Indian Painting: A Description of an Aboriginal American Art. Palo Alto: Stanford 

University Press. 

6. [with Stuart Cuthbertsom.] A Preliminary Bibliography of the American Fur Trade. St. Louis: 

U. S. Department of the Interior. 

1940 

7. Interpreting Archaeology to the Public. Proceedings of the Society for Georgia Archeology, 3(1): 

2 leaves. 

1943 

8. Museum, the Blackfeet Indians Now Have a Word for It. The Museum News, 20(18): 12. 

9. Primitive American Commandos. 77!« A/aii^r^«);, 17(4):117-125. 

10. Were the Blackfoot Rich in Horses? American Anthropologist, 45(4):602-610. 

1944 

11. The Blackfoot War Lodge: Its Construction and Use. American Anthropologist, 46(2): 182-

192. 

12. [Editor.] Ten Year Program for the Blackfeet Indian Agency by Freal M. McBride. Browning, 

Montana: U. S. Bureau of Indian Affairs. 

13. Food Rationing is Nothing New to the Blackfoot. The Masterkey, 18(3):73-80. 

14. Metal Arrowheads of the Blackfeet Indians. Hobbies: The Magazine for Collectors, 49(8): 105-

106. 

15. Some Winter Sports of Blackfoot Indian Children. The Masterkey, 18(6): 180-187. 

16. The Story of the Blackfeet. Indian Life and Customs (Haskell Institute), 6. 

1945 

17. Blackfeet Crafts. Indian Handcrafts (Haskell Institute), 9. 

18. The Case for Blackfoot Pottery. American Anthropologist, 47(2):289-299. 

25 
2 6 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1946 

19. Identification and History of the Small Robes Band of the Piegan Indians, yourna/ of the 

Washington Academy of Sciences, 36(12):397-401. 

1948 

20. Gustavus Sohon's Portraits of Flathead and Pend d'Oreille Indians, 1854. Smithsonian 

Miscellaneous Collections, 110(7). 

21. Self-Torture in the Blood Indian Sun Dance. Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, 

38(5): 166-173. 

1949 

22. An Anthropologist Looks at Early Pictures of North American Indians. New-York 

Historical Society Quarterly, 33(4):223-234. 

23. The Indian Buffalo Hunter's Saddle. Western Horseman, 14(9): 18-19, 48-49. 

24. The Last Bison Drives of the Blackfoot Indians. Journal of the Washington Academy of 

Sciences, 39(11):355-360. 

1950 

25. [Editor.] Of the Arickaras, by Edwin T. Denig. Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society, 

6(2): 198-215. 

1951 

26. [Editor.] Of the Sioux, by Edwin T. Denig. Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society, 

7(2):185-215. 

1952 

27. [Editor.] Of the Assiniboines, by Edwin T. Denig. Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society, 

8(2):121-150. 

28. [Editor.] Of the Crees or Knistenau, by Edwin T. Denig. Bulletin of the Missouri Historical 

Society, 9(l):37-69. 

29. The Medicine Rock of the Marias: A Blackfoot Shrine Beside the Whoop-up Trail. 

Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 2(3):51-55. 

30. Museums for Indians in the United States. Fundamental Education: A Quarterly Bulletin, 

4(l):3-9. 

1953 

31. Blackfeet Indians. Encyclopedia Americana, 4:41-42. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

32. [Editor, including biographical sketch and footnotes.] Of the Crow Nation, by Edwin T. 

Denig. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 151(33): 1-74. 

33. Reliving Montana's Colorful Past in a Magnificent New Museum. Montana, the Magazine 

of Western History, 3(l):35-54. 

1954 

34. An Appreciation of Carl Bodmer's Indian Paintings. In Carl Bodmer Paints the Indian 

Frontier, a Traveling Exhibition of Watercolors and Drawings Circulated by the Smithsonian 

Institution, 1954-1955, 2 unnumbered pages. Washington, D. C : H. K. Press. 

35. Charles Bird King: Painter of Indian Visitors to the Nation's Capitol. Annual Report of the 

Smithsonian Institution, 1953, pages 463-473. 
NUMBER 30 2 7 

36. The Indian Trade of the Upper Missouri before Lewis and Clark: An Interpretation. 

Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society, 10(4): 429-446. 

37. Literate Fur Trader: Edwin Thompson Denig. Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 

4(2):1-12. 

1955 

38. The Bear Cult among the Assiniboin and Their Neighbors of the Northern Plains. 

Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, 11(1): 1-14. 

39. Chinook. Encyclopedia Americana, 2:560. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

40. Chippewa. Encyclopedia Americana, 2:564-565. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

41. The Horse in Blackfoot Indian Culture, with Comparative Material from Other Western 

Tribes. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 159. 

42. Problems and Procedures in Modernizing Ethnological Exhibits. American Anthropologist, 

57(1):1-12. 

1956 

43. The Assiniboin Horse Medicine Cult. Anthropological Quarterly, 29(3):57-68. 

44. George Catlin, Painter of Indians and the West. Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution, 

1955, pages 483-528. 

45. The Gun of Sitting Bull. The Beaver (Winter):20-23. 

46. Kiowa. Encyclopedia Americana, 16:452. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

47. New Ethnological Exhibits, United States National Museum Washington/Nouvelle 

Presentation des Collections Ethnologiques Musee National des Etats-Unis. Museum, 

9(l):28-36. 

48. The North West Trade Gun. Alberta Historical Review, 4(2): 1-7. 

49. Plains Indian War Medicine. Tomorrow: Quarterly Review of Psychical Research, 4(3):85-90. 

50. When the Light Shone in Washington. Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 6(4):2-11. 

1957 

51. Basket. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 3:177-180. Chicago: The Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

52. Early White Influence upon Plains Indian Painting: George Catlin and Carl Bodmer 

among the Mandan, 1832-1834. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 134(7). 

53. Hair Pipes in Plains Indian Adornment: A Study in Indian and White Ingenuity. Bureau 

of American Ethnology Bulletin, 164(50):29-85. 

54. Three Ornaments Worn by Upper Missouri Indians a Century and a Quarter Ago. NewYork Historical Society Quarterly, 41(l):24-33. 

1958 

55. The Blackfeet: Raiders on the Northwestern Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

56. Love Medicine. The Beaver {\\xX.\imn):^Q-A\. 

57. The National Museum's Services to the People. In Stephan F. de Borhegyi, editor, The 

Modern Museum and the Community: Papers Presented at the 5th International Congress of 

Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, Philadelphia, 1956, pages 17-20. Norman: Clearing 

House for Western Museums. [Special Publication No. 1.] 

1959 

58. [Author of Editor's Introduction, pages vii-xxiv, and editor.] Adventures of Zenas Leonard, 

Fur Trader. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

59. A Century of American Indian Exhibits in the Smithsonian Institution. Annual Report of 

the Smithsonian Institution, 1958, pages 513-525. 

60. [in collaboration with William Wildschut.] Crow Indian Beadwork: A Descriptive and 

Historical Study. Contributions from the Museum of the American Indian, 16. 
2 8 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1960 

61. Arapaho Indians, Arikara Indians, Assiniboin Indians, Arrowhead, 1:5-6, 616, 666; 

Blackfoot Indians, 2:310; Caddo Indians, Cheyenne Indians, Crow Indians, 3:11, 334, 

924-925; Gros Ventres Indians, 7:392; Iowa Indians, 9:315; Kiowa Indians, 10:267; 

Mandan Indians, 12:101; Nez Perce Indians, Osage Indians, 13:309, 692; Pawnee 

Indians, Peace Pipe, 14:180, 184; Rain Dance, 15:125; Sioux Indians, Sun Dance, 16:394, 

788: War Paint, 19:31. World Book Encyclopedia. Chicago: Field Enterprises Educational 

Corportion. 

62. A Blood Indian's Conception of Tribal Life in Dog Days. The Blue Jay, 18(l):44-48. 

63. [Author of Historical and Comparative Survey, pages 147-173, and editor.] Crow Indian 

Medicine Bundles, by William Wildschut. Contributions from the Museum of the American 

Indian, 17. 

64. The Indian Wars of the West. In Great Western Indian Fights, pages 19-26. New York: 

Doubleday and Company. 

65. [Consultant.] Indians of the Plains. New York: American Heritage Publishing Company. 

66. New Museum Installations at the Smithsonian Institution. The Museologist, 76 (September): 13-14. 

67. Selected References on the Plains Indians. Smithsonian Anthropological Bibliographies, 1. 

Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

1961 

68. [Author of Editor's Introduction, pages xiii-xxxvi, and editor.] Five Indian Tribes of the 

Upper Missouri: Sioux, Arikaras, Assiniboines, Crees, Crows, by Edwin T. Denig. Norman: 

University of Oklahoma Press. 

69. Symposium on the Concept of Ethnohistory—Comment. Ethnohistory, 8(3):262-270. 

1962 

70. Mothers of the Mixed-Bloods. El Palacio, 69(1):20-29. 

1963 

71. Blackfoot Indian Pipes and Pipemaking. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 186(64): 29-

60. 

72. Blackfoot Indians. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 3:743-744. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

73. George Catlin; Karl Bodmer; Plains Indian Drawing and Painting. In Catlin, Bodmer, 

Miller, pages 8-10, 12-13, 32-33. Omaha: Joslyn Art Museum. 

74. Iroquois Indians in the Far West. Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 13(2):2-10. 

75. Rivers in the Stream of Western History. Corral Dust, 8(2):9-ll. 

1964 

76. Backstage at the Smithsonian. Civil Service Journal, 4(4):26-31. 

77. Plains Indians. Encyclopedia Americana, 22:147-148. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

1965 

78. Artists of the Old West. Garden City, New York: Doubleday and Company [Enlarged 

edition, 1973.] 

79. Deadlier than the Male. American Heritage, 16(4): 10-13. 

80. The Emergence of the Plains Indian as the Symbol of the North American Indian. Annual 

Report of the Smithsonian Institution, 1964, pages 531-544. 

81. Last of the Buffalo Indians. The American West, 2(2):26:31. 
NUMBER 30 2 9 

1966 

82. Chiefs from the Missouri and Mississippi, and Peale's Silhouettes of 1806. Smithsonian 

Journal of History, 1 (1): 1-26. 

83. The Importance of the Buffalo to Plains Indian Culture. Wyoming Anthropologist, 9(1):21-

26. 

84. The Museum Historian as Scholar. In The Smithsonian Year, 1965, pages 105-109. 

Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution Press. 

85. Plains Indian Reactions to the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Montana, the Magazine of 

Western History, 16(1):2-12. 

1967 

86. An Appreciation of Father Nicolas Point, Pioneer Recorder of Indian Life in the 

Northwest, /n Joseph P. Donnelly, S.J., editor and translator. Wilderness Kingdom: The 

Journals and Paintings of Father Nicolas Point, pages vii-xi. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and 

Winston. 

87. Blackfoot Raiding for Horses and Scalps. In Paul Bohannan, editor, Law and Warfare: 

Studies in the Anthropology of Conflict, pages 327-344. Garden City, N.Y.: The Natural 

History Press. 

88. Fact and Fiction in the Documentary Art of the American West. In John Francis 

McDermott, editor. The Frontier Re-examined, pages 79-95. Urbana: University of Illinois 

Press. 

89. Foreword. In Peter Nabokov, editor. Two Leggings: The Making of a Crow Warrior, pages 

vii-x. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. 

90. The Horse Complex in Plains Indian History. In Roger C. Owen, James J.F. Deetz, and 

Anthony D. Fisher, editors. The American Indians: A Sourcebook, pages 494-503. New York: 

The Macmillan Company. 

91. [Author of Preface to the Centennial Edition, pages v-vi, and Introduction: An Appreciation of George Catlin's O-kee-pa, pages 1-33, and editor] O-kee-pa: A Religious Ceremony 

and Other Customs of the Mandans, by George Catlin. New Haven: Yale University Press. 

92. The Opening of the West. In The Artist in America, pages 42-68. New York: W.W. Norton 

and Company. 

93. Was There a Northwestern Plains Sub-Culture? An Ethnographical Appraisal. Plains 

Anthropologist, 12(36): 167-174. 

94. The White Man's Strongest Medicine. Bulletin of the Missouri Historical Society, 24(1) :36-

46. 

95. William Clark's Indian Museum in St. Louis, 1816-1838. In Walter Muir Whitehill, 

editor, A Cabinet of Curiosities: Five Episodes in the Evolution of American Museums, pages 49-

72. Charlottesville: The University of Virginia Press. 

1968 

96. Cyrus E. Dallin: Master Sculptor of the Plains Indian. Montana, The Magazine of Western 

History, 18(l):34-43. 

97. Indian Life on the Upper Missouri. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

98. Introduction. In Westward the Artist [catalog], 2 pages. Peoria: Lakeview Center for the 

Arts and Sciences. 

99. Plains Indian Painting: The History and Development of an American Art Form. The 

American West, 5(2):4-15, 74-76. 

100. Thomas M. Easterly's Pioneer Daguerreotypes of Plains Indians. Bulletin of the Missouri 

Historical Society, 24(4):329-339. 

1969 

101. [Editor.] The Indians of Texas in 1830, by Jean Louis Berlandier. Washington, D.C: 

Smithsonian Institution Press. 
3 0 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

102. Sculptor Cyrus E. Dallin, Who Knew the Horse and Knew the Indian. The American 

West,^{&):22-22>. 

1970 

103. Bodily Proportions as Guides to Lineal Measurements among the Blackfoot Indians. 

American Anthropologist, 72(3):561-562. 

104. Contraceptive Charms among the Plains Indians. Plains Anthropologist, 15(49):216-218. 

105. Jean Louis Berlandier: A French Scientist among the Wild Comanches of Texas in 1828. 

In John Francis McDermott, editor. Travelers on the Western Frontier, pages 290-300. 

Urbana: University of Illinois Press. 

106. The Southern Plains Indians. In 1970 Festival of American Folklife, page 18. Washington, 

D.C: Smithsonian Institution. 

1971 

107. A Crow Chiefs Tribute to the Unknown Soldier. The American West, 8(6):30-35. 

108. Indians as Warriors. The American Way, A{8):2Q-21. 

109. Not Quite Redmen: The Plains Indian Illustrations of Felix O.C Darley. The American 

Art Journal, 3(2):88-98. 

110. When Red and White Men Met. Western Historical Quarterly, 2(2): 133-150. 

111. Winold Reiss: His Portraits and Proteges. Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 

21(3):44-55. 

1972 

112. Blackfeet Camp Life. In Bruce A. Glasrud and Alan M. Smith, editors, Promises to Keep: 

A Portrayal of Nonwhites in the United States, pages 133-144. Chicago: Rand McNally and 

Company. 

113. Blackfoot or Blackfeet? Lore, 22(3): 113-114. 

114. Folk Art in the Fur Trade of the Upper Missouri. Prologue: The Journal of the National 

Archives, 4(2):99-108. 

115. Foreword. In Lester Hargrett, compiler. The Gilcrease-Hargrett Catalogue of Imprints, page 

vii. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

116. Indians as Warriors and the Static Images. In Bernard L. Fontana, editor, Look to the 

Mountain Top, pages 37-44, 107-109. San Jose, California: Gousha Publications. 

117. The Influence of the Fur Trade upon the Indians of the Northern Plains. In Malvina 

Bolus, editor. People and Pelts: Selected Papers of the Second North American Fur Trade Conference, 

pages 1-26. Winnipeg: Peguis Publishers. 

118. The Influence of the Horse in Blackfoot Culture. In Deward E. Walker editor, The 

Emergent Native Americans: A Reader in Culture Contact, pages 252-270. Boston: Little Brown 

and Company. 

119. Introduction. In Richard E. Ahlborn, European Dress in Texas, 1830: As Rendered by 

Lino Sanchez y Tapia. American Scene, 13(4): 1. 

120. Preface. In Paul Hogarth, Artists on Horseback, pages 9-11. New York: Watson-Guptil. 

121. [Editor.] Report on the Indian Tribes of Texas in 1828, by Jose Francisco Ruiz, translated by 

Georgette Dorn. New Haven: Yale University Library. 

122. A Unique Pictorial Interpretation of Blackfoot Indian Religion in 1846-1847. Ethnohistory, 

18(3):231-238. 

123. Winold Reiss. In Winold Reiss: Plains Portraits, pages 4-6. New York: Kennedy Galleries, 

Inc. 

1973 

124. Blackfeet and Gros Ventres Tribes in Northern Montana, 1888. [Indian Claims Commission 

Testimony, Docket 279-A on microfiche.] New York: Clearwater Publishing Company. 
NUMBER 30 3 1 

125. Chippewa, Cree and Little Shell Lands in Montana, 1888. [Indian Claims Commission 

Testimony, Docket 222-B on microfiche.] New York: Clearwater Publishing Company. 

126. Historic Basis of Northern Plains Culture. In 1973 Festival of American Folklife, page 9. 

Washington, D.C: Smithsonian Institution. 

127. The Influence of Epidemics on the Indian Populations and Cultures of Texas. Plains 

Anthropologist, 18(60): 104-115. 

1974 

128. [Consultant.] Indians of the North American Plains. [Illustrated wall chart] Sunday Times 

(London). 

129. Ethnological Report on the Blackfeet and Gros Ventres Tribes of Indians. In D.A. Horr, 

editor, American Indian Ethnohistory: Plains Indians—Blackfeet Indians, pages 23-202. New 

York and London: Garland Publishing Company. 

130. Ethnological Report on the Chippewa Cree Tribe of the Rocky Boy Reservation and the 

Little Shell Band of Indians. In D.A. Horr, editor, American Indian Ethnohistory: North 

Central and Northeastern Indians—Chippewa Indians, 6:9-182. New York and London: 

Garland Publishing Company. 

131. Horsemen of the Plains. In J.B. Billard, editor, The World of the American Indian, pages 

254-309. Washington, D.C: National Geographic Society. 

132. Introduction. In Dwight L. Smith, editor, Indians of the United States and Canada, a 

Bibliography, pages xiii-xvi. Santa Barbara: American Bibliographical Center. 

133. Symbols of Chiefly Authority in Spanish Louisiana. /« John Francis McDermott, editor. 

The Spanish in the Mississippi Valley, 1762-1804, pages 272-284. Urbana: University of 

Illinois Press. 

1975 

134. The American West as a Theatre of Conflict. In J.L. Fairbanks, editor, Frontier America: 

The Far West, pages 78-85. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. 

135. Intertribal Warfare as the Precursor of Indian-White Warfare on the Northern Great 

Plains. The Western Historical Quarterly, ^i):391-'ilO. 

1976 

136. Artifacts and Pictures as Documents in the History of Indian-White Relations. /« Jane 

F. Smith and Robert M. Kvasnicka, editors, Indian-White Relations: A Persistent Paradox, 

pages 101-111. Washington, D.C: Howard University Press. 

137. Blackfeet Indian Tipis: Design and Legend. Bozeman: Museum of the Rockies. 

138. Foreword. In Rell G. Francis, Cyrus E. Dallin: Let Justice Be Done, pages ix-x. Springville, 

Utah: Springville Museum of Art. 

139. Indian Views of the White Man Prior to 1850: An Interpretation. In Daniel Tyler, editor, 

Red Men and Hat-Wearers: Viewpoints in Indian History, pages 7-23. Boulder: Pruett 

Publishing Company. 

140. Introduction. In Herman J. Viola, The Indian Legacy of Charles Bird King, pages 11-14. 

Washington, D.C. and New York: Smithsonian Institution Press and Doubleday and 

Company, Inc. 

1977 

141. Five Strings to His Bow: The Remarkable Career of William (Lone Star) Dietz: Artist, 

Athlete, Actor, Teacher, Football Coach. Montana, the Magazine of Western History, 27(1):2-

13. 

142. The Making and Uses of Maps by Plains Indian Warriors. By Valor & Arms, 3(l):36-43. 

143. Notes on the Weasel in Historic Plains Indian Culture. Plains Anthropologist, 22(78) 1:253-

262. 
3 2 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

144. Plains Indians. Encyclopedia Americana, 22:169-171. New York: The Encyclopedia Americana. 

145. Spanish Cattle in Plains Indian Art. Great Plains Journal, 16(l):66-76. 

1978 

146. [Chairman of Drafting Committee.] Collections Policies. Indian Notes, 12(1). 

147. Murals in the Round: Painted Tipis of the Kiowa and Kiowa-Apache Indians. Washington, D.C: 

Smithsonian Institution Press. 

148. Religious Customs of the Blackfeet: A Case Study. In James E. Wright and Sarah Z. 

Rosenberg, editors, The Great Plains Experience: Readings in the History of a Region, pages 65 -

72. Lincoln: University of Mid-America. 

149. Richard Sanderville, Blackfoot Indian Interpreter. In Margot Liberty, editor, American 

Indian Intellectuals, pages 116-126. St. Paul: West Publishing Company. 

150. Three Effigy Pipes by an Eastern Dakota Master Carver. American Indian Art Magazine, 

3(4):51-55, 74. 

1979 

151. Foreword. In William H. Truettner, The Natural Man Observed: A Study of Catlin's Indian 

Gallery, pages 7-8. Washington, D.C: Smithsonian Institution Press. 

152. George Catlin, Painter of American Indians: A Visual Presentation from the Department of Anthropology, National Museum of Natural History. Washington, D.C: Smithsonian Institution. 

153. Images of the White Man in 19th-century Plains Indian Art. /« Justine M. Cordwell, 

editor, The Visual Arts, Plastic and Graphic,-paigts AW-'\29. The Hagyic: Mouton Publishers. 

154. Introduction. In James Mooney, Calendar History of the Kiowa Indians, pages vii-xiii. 

Washington, D.C: Smithsonian Institution Press. [Classics of Smithsonian Anthropology] 

155. [Editor.] Indian Art in Pipestone: George Catlin's Portfolio in the British Museum. Washington, 

D.C: Smithsonian Institution Press. 

1980 

156. Climate, Acculturation, and Costume: A History of Women's Clothing among the 

Indians of the Southern Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 25(87): 63-82. 

157. Saddles of the Plains Indians. In Richard E. Ahlborn, editor, Man Made Mobile: Early 

Saddles of Western North America. Smithsonian Studies in History and Technology, 39:72-84. 

1981 

158. A Comment On: A Mathematical Theory of Horse Adoption on the North American 

Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 26(91): 84 pages. 

159. Memorial to K. Ross Toole. Montana, The Magazine of Western History, 31(4): 56-58. 

160. The Emergence of the Named Indian Artist in the American West. American Indian Art 

Magazine, 6(2):52-6l, 77. 

161. Pipes for the Presidents. American Indian Art Magazine, 6(3):66-70. 

162. The Use of Artifacts and Pictures in the Study of Plains Indian History, Art, and 

Religion. In Anne-Marie E. Cantwell, James B. Griffin, and Nan A. Rothschild, editors. 

The Research Potential of Anthropological Museum Collections. Annals of the New York 

Academy of Sciences, 376:247-266. 

163. Water Monsters in Plains Indian Art. American Indian Art Magazine, 6(4):38-45. 
Bibhography of Waldo R. Wedel 

1933 

1. Preliminary Notes on the Archaeology of Medicine Valley in Southwestern Nebraska. 

Nebraska History Magazine, 14(3): 144-166. 

1934 

2. Contributions to the Archaeology of the Upper Republican Valley, Nebraska. Nebraska 

History Magazine, 15(3[1935]): 132-209. 

3. Minneapolis 1: A Prehistoric Village Site in Ottawa County, Kansas. Nebraska History 

Magazine, 15(3[1935]):210-237. 

4. Salina 1: A Protohistoric Village Site in McPherson County, Kansas. Nebraska History 

Magazine, 15(3[1935]):238-250. 

5. Preliminary Classification for Nebraska and Kansas Cultures. Nebraska History Magazine, 

15(3[1935]):251-255. 

1936 

6. An Introduction to Pawnee Archeology. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 112. 

7. [with A.T. Hill.] Excavations at the Leary Indian Village and Burial Site, Richardson 

County, Nebraska. Nebraska History Magazine, 17(1): 2-73. 

8. Notes and News—Great Plains Area. American Antiquity, 2:52. 

9. Notes and News—Great Plains Area. American Antiquity, 2:146-147. 

1937 

10. [with T.D. Stewart.] The Finding of Two Ossuaries on the Site of the Indian Village of 

Nacotchtanke (Anacostia). Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, 27(5) :213-219. 

11. Dust Bowls of the Past. Science, supplement, 86(2232) :8-9. 

12. Notes and News—Plains Area. American Antiquity, 2:309-311. 

13. Notes and News—Plains Area. American Antiquity, 3:82-84. 

1938 

14. Inaugurating an Archeological Survey in Kansas. In Explorations and Field-Work of the 

Smithsonian Institution in 1937, pages 103-106. Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

15. Hopewellian Remains near Kansas City, Missouri. Proceedings of the U.S. National Museum, 

86(3045) :99-106. 

16. Some Problems and Prospects in Kansas Prehistory. Kansas Historical Quarterly, 

7(2): 115-132. 

17. The Direct-Historical Approach in Pawnee Archeology. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 97 (7): 1-2 \. 

18. Notes and News—Great Plains Area. American Antiquity, 3:275-278. 

19. Stone Balls in Missouri Mounds. El Palacio, 45:114. 

1939 

20. Archeological Reconnaissance in Southeastern Colorado. In Explorations and Field- Work of 

the Smithsonian Institution in 1938, pages 91-94. Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

33 
3 4 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

21. Excavations in Platte County, Missouri. In Explorations and Field-Work of the Smithsonian 

Institution in 1938, pages 95-98. Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

22. Notes and News—Great Plains Area. American Antiquity, 4:282-284. 

23. Notes and News—Great Plains. American Antiquity, 5:68. 

1940 

24. Culture Sequence in the Central Great Plains. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 

100:291-352. 

25. Archeological Explorations in Western Kansas. In Explorations and Field-Work of the 

Smithsonian Institution in 1939, pages 83-86. Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

26. [and H.M. Trowbridge.] A Prehistoric Roulette from Wyandotte County, Kansas. 

Proceedings of the US National Museum, 88(3091):581-586. 

27. Notes and News—Plains Area. American Antiquity, 5:242-247. 

28. Horn Tool Explains Design. El Palacio, 47:93. 

29. Plains Migrations Traced. El Palacio, 47:210-211. 

1941 

30. In Search of Coronado's "Province of Quivira." In Explorations and Field-Work of the 

Smithsonian Institution in 1940, pages 71-74. Washington, D. C : Smithsonian Institution. 

31. Environment and Native Subsistence Economies in the Central Great Plains. Smithsonian 

Miscellaneous Collections, 101 (3): 1 -29. 

32. Archeological Investigations at Buena Vista Lake, Kern County, California. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 130:1-170, 189-194. 

33. Spanish Chain Mail in Kansas. El Palacio, 48:118-119. 

1942 

34. Archeological Remains in Central Kansas and Their Possible Bearing on the Location 

of Quivira. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 101 (7): 1-24. 

35. [and A.T. Hill.] Scored Bone Artifacts of the Central Great Plains. Proceedings of the U.S. 

National Museum, 92(3141):91-100. 

1943 

36. Archeological Investigations in Platte and Clay Counties, Missouri. U.S. National Museum 

Bulletin, 183:viii+ 1-244,275-284. 

1945 

37. On the Illinois Confederacy and Middle Mississippi Culture in Illinois. American Antiquity, 

10(4):383-386. 

1946 

38. The Kansa Indians. Transactions of the Kansas Academy of Science, 49(1): 1-35. 

1947 

39. Culture Chronology in the Central Great Plains. American Antiquity, 12(3, pt. 1): 148-156. 

40. Reply to Bennett. American Antiquity, 12(3): 185-186. 

41. The Missouri Basin Archeological Survey. Nebraska History, 28(l):32-40. 

42. Prehistory and the Missouri Valley Development Program: Summary Report on the 

Missouri River Basin Archeological Survey in 1946. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 

107(6). 
NUMBER 30 3 5 

43. The Missouri River Basin Archeological Survey in 1946. InJ.O. Brew, editor. Symposium 

on River Valley Archaeology. American Antiquity, 12(4):220-222. 

44. Note on Some Potsherds from Northeastern Wyoming. Journal of the Washington Academy 

of Sciences, 3 7 (5): 15 7-159. 

45. Prehistory and Environment in the Central Great Plains. Transactions of the Kansas Academy 

of Science, bQ{\):\-\8. 

46. Notes and News—Plains Area. American Antiquity, 12(4):283. 

1948 

47. Prehistory and the Missouri Valley Development Program: Summary Report on the 

Missouri River Basin Archeological Survey in 1947. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 

111(2). 

48. Prehistoric Farmers and Hunters of Medicine Creek. In Medicine Creek Dam and Cambridge 

Diversion Dam Dedication, pages 22-24. Cambridge, Nebraska. 

49. Notes and News—Plains. American Antiquity, 14(l):74-75. 

1949 

50. Some Provisional Correlations in Missouri Basin Archaeology. American Antiquity, 

14(4, pt. l):328-339. 

51. Some Central Plains Sherd Types from Kansas. In Proceedings of the Fifth Plains Conference 

for Archeology, pages 86-90. University of Nebraska Laboratory of Anthropology, Note 

Book 1. 

52. A Summary of Recent Field Work in Central Plains Archeology. In Proceedings of the Fifth 

Plains Conference for Archeology, pages 3-5. University of Nebraska Laboratory of Anthropology, Note Book 1. 

53. Notes and News—'Plains. American Antiquity, 14(3):244-247. 

54. Archaeological Researches in the Missouri Basin by the Smithsonian River Basin Surveys 

and Cooperating Agencies: Foreword. American Antiquity, 14(4, pt. l):257-259. 

1950 

55. Notes on Some Plains-Southwestern Contacts in the Light of Archeology. In Erik K. 

Reed and Dale S. King, editors. For the Dean, Essays in Anthropology in Honor of Byron 

Cummings on His Eighty-Ninth Birthday, September 20, 1950, pages 99-116. Hohokam 

Museums Association, Tucson, Arizona, and the Southwestern Monuments Association, 

Santa Fe, New Mexico. 

56. Missouri River Basin Survey 1948 Season. In Jesse D. Jennings, editor. Proceedings of 

the Sixth Plains Archeological Conference. University of Utah, Department of Anthropology, 

Anthropological Papers, 11:3-8. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. 

57. Climate and Culture: Some Questions. In Jesse D. Jennings, editor. Proceedings of the 

Sixth Plains Archeological Conference. University of Utah, Department of Anthropology, 

Anthropological Papers, 11:85-87. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. 

1951 

58. Notes on Aboriginal Pottery from Montana. Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, 

41(4): 130-138. 

59. Archeological Reconnaissance near Saltville, Virginia, in 1940. Archeological Society of 

Virginia Quarterly Bulletin, 5 (4): 2 pages. 

60. The Use of Earth-moving Machinery in Archaeological Excavations. In James B. Griffin, 

editor. Essays on Archaeological Methods: Proceedings of a Conference Held under 

Auspices of the Viking Fund. University of Michigan Anthropological Papers, 8:17-28. Ann 

Arbor: Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan. 
3 6 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1952 

61. Structural Investigations in 1943. In Philip Drucker, La Venta, Tabasco: A Study of 

Olmec Ceramics and Art. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 153:34-79. 

1953 

62. Prehistory and the Missouri Valley Development Program: Summary Report on the 

Missouri River Basin Archeological Survey in 1948. (River Basin Surveys Paper 1.) 

Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 154:xv-xviii, 1-59. 

63. Prehistory and the Missouri Valley Development Program: Summary Report on the 

Missouri River Basin Archeological Survey in 1949. (River Basin Surveys Paper 2.) 

Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 154:61-101. 

64. Some Aspects of Human Ecology in the Central Plains. American Anthropologist, 

55 (4): 499-514. 

65. Asa T. Hill, Pioneer Nebraska Archeologist. Nebraska History, 34(2):71-79. 

66. A.T. Hill. American Antiquity, 19(2): 153-155. 

67. In Search of Prehistoric Man in the Great Plains. Bethel College Bulletin, 40(4): 13-14, 19. 

1954 

68. Earthenware and Steatite Vessels from Northwestern Wyoming. American Antiquity, 

19(4):403-409. 

69. [and G.B. Griffenhagen.] An English Balsam among the Dakota Aborigines. American 

Journal of Pharmacy, 126(12):409-415. 

1955 

70. Archeological Materials from the Vicinity of Mobridge, South Dakota. (Anthropological 

Papers, 45.) Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 157:69-188. 

71. [and F.H.H. Roberts, Jr.] Archaeological Standards. Archeolog, 7(2): 10-12. 

1956 

72. [and M.F. Kivett.] Additional Data on the Woodruff Ossuary, Kansas. American Antiquity, 

21(4):414-416. 

73. Changing Settlement Patterns in the Great Plains. In G.R. Willey, editor. Prehistoric 

Settlement Patterns in the New World. Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology, 23:81-92. 

74. George Francis Will (1884-1955). American Antiquity, 22(l):73-76. 

75. Archaeological Remains in Central Kansas and Their Possible Bearing on the Location 

of Quivira. Kansas Anthropological Association Newsletter, 2(3): 129-158. 

1957 

76. Observations on Some Nineteenth-Century Pottery Vessels from the Upper Missouri. 

(Anthropological Papers, 51.) Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 164:87-114. 

77. The Central North American Grassland: Man-Made or Natural? In Studies in Human 

Ecology. Social Science Monographs, 3:39-69. Washington, D.C: Social Science Section, 

Department of Cultural Affairs, Pan American Union. 

1958 

78. Las praderas centrales de Norteamerica: Naturales u obra humana? In Estudios Sobre 

Ecologia Humana. Estudios Monograficos, 3:39-69. Washington, D.C: Union Panamericana. 
NUMBER 30 3 7 

1959 

79. An Introduction to Kansas Archeology. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 174. 

1961 

80. Prehistoric Man on the Great Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

81. Contributions and Losses in Salvage Archaeology. In John M. Corbett, editor. Symposium 

on Salvage Archaeology, pages 17-22. Washington, D.C: National Park Service. 

82. Plains Archaeology, 1935-60. American Antiquity, 27(l):24-32. 

83. Some Archeological Problems in the Great Plains. Great Plains Journal, 1(1):6-19. 

84. Some Aspects of Human Ecology in the Central Plains. In George A. Theodorson, editor. 

Studies in Human Ecology, pages 451-461. [Reprinted from American Anthropologist (1953), 

55(4):499-514.] 

1963 

85. The High Plains and Their Utilization by the Indian. American Antiquity, 29(1): 1-16. 

86. The Great Plains. In J.D. Jennings and E. Norbeck, editors, Prehistoric Man in the New 

World, pages 193-220. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 

1964 

87. Visit to Caribou, 1963. The Colorado Magazine, 41(3):247-252. 

88. Primitive Man in the Boulder Area. In Hugo G. Rodeck, editor. Natural History of the 

Boulder Area. University of Colorado Museum Leaflet, 13:90-96. 

1967 

89. The Council Circles of Central Kansas: Were They Solstice Registers? American Antiquity, 

32(l):54-63. 

90. Salvage Archeology in the Missouri River Basin. Science, 156(3775):589-597. 

1968 

91. [with W.M. Husted, and J.H. Moss.] Mummy Cave: Prehistoric Record from Rocky 

Mountains of Wyoming. Science, 160(3824): 184-186. 

92. Some Thoughts on Central Plains-Southern Plains Archaeological Relationships. Great 

Plains Journal, 7(2):53-62. 

93. After Coronado in Quivira. Kansas Historical Quarterly, 34(4):369-385. 

1969 

94. A Shield and Spear Petroglyph from Central Kansas: Some Possible Implications. Plains 

Anthropologist, 14(44, pt. 1): 125-129. 

95. Washington Matthews: His Contribution to Plains Anthropology. Plains Anthropologist, 

14 (45): 175-176. 

1970 

96. Antler Tine Scraper Handles in the Central Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 15(47):36-45. 

97. Some Observations on "Two House Sites in the Central Plains: An Experiment in 

Archaeology." Nebraska History, 51(2):225-252. 

98. Coronado's Route to Quivira 1541. Plains Anthropologist, 15(49): 161-168. 

99. Some Environmental and Historical Factors of the Great Bend Aspect. In W. Dort, Jr., 
38 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

and J.K. Jones, Jr., editors, Pleistocene and Recent Environments of the Central Great 

Plains. Department of Geology, University of Kansas, Special Publication, 3:131-140. Lawrence: 

University of Kansas Press. 

1974 

100 The Prehistoric and Historic Habitat of the Kansa Indians. In D.A. Horr, editor. Pawnee 

and Kansa (Kaw) Indians, pages 421-453. New York: Garland Publishing Company, Inc. 

1975 

101. Some Early Euro-American Percepts of the Great Plains and Their Influence on 

Anthropological Thinking. In B.W. Blouet and M.P. Lawson, editors. Images of the Plains, 

pages 13-20. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. 

102. [and D.H. Ubelaker.] Bird Bones, Burials, and Bundles in Plains Archaeology. American 

Antiquity, A0{4):4A4-A52. 

103. Chain Mail in Plains Archeology. Plains Anthropologist, 20(69): 187-196. 

104. Chalk Hollow: Culture Sequence and Chronology in the Texas Panhandle. Proceedings of 

the XLI International Congress of Americanists, 1:270-278. C6rdoba, Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia. 

1976 

105. [and Mildred M. Wedel.] Wichita Archeology and Ethnohistory. In Forrest R. Blackburn 

et al., editors, Kansas and the West: Bicentennial Essays in Honor of Nyle H. Miller, pages 8-20. 

Topeka: Kansas State Historical Society. 

1977 

106. Native Astronomy and the Plains Caddoans. In Anthony F. Aveni, editor, Native American 

Astronomy, pages 131-145. Austin: University of Texas Press. 

107. The Education of a Plains Archeologist. Plains Anthropologist, 22(75): 1-11. 

108. Mummy Cave—A Synopsis. In Harold McCracken, editor. The Mummy Cave Project in 

Northwestern Wyoming, pages 21-32. Cody, Wyoming: Buffalo Bill Historical Center. 

1978 

109. The Prehistoric Plains, /n J.D. Jennings, editor, Ancient Native Americans, pages 182-219. 

San Francisco: W.H. Freeman & Co. 

110. Notes on the Prairie Turnip {Psoralea esculenta) among the Plains Indians. Nebraska History, 

59(2): 154-179. 

111. Plains Archeology in 1977. Great Plains Journal, 17:25-39. 

112. George Metcalf, an Appreciation. In Donald J. Blakeslee, editor, The Central Plains 

Tradition: Internal Development and External Relationships. Office of the State Archaeologist Report, 11:4-5. Iowa City: University of Iowa. 

113. Commentary. In Donald J. Blakeslee, editor. The Central Plains Tradition: Internal 

Development and External Relationships. Office of the State Archaeologist Report, 11:157-

162. Iowa City: University of Iowa. 

114. Neil Merton Judd, 1887-1976. American Antiquity, 43(3):399-404. 

1979 

115. Holocene Cultural Adaptations in the Republican River Basin. In Brian W. Blouet and 

Frederick C Luebke, editors, The Great Plains: Environment and Culture, pages 1-25. Lincoln: 

Center for Great Plains Studies, University of Nebraska Press. 
NUMBER 30 3 9 

116. House Floors and Native Settlement Populations in the Central Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 24(84, pt. l):85-98. 

117. Introduction. In Waldo R. Wedel, editor. Toward Plains Caddoan Origins: A Symposium. Nebraska History, 60(2): 131-133. 

118. Some Reflections on Plains Caddoan Origins. In Waldo R. Wedel, editor, Toward Plains 

Caddoan Origins: A Symposium. Nebraska History, 60(2):272-293. 

1981 

119. Toward a History of Plains Archeology. Great Plains Quarterly, 1(1): 16-38. 

120. [with D. Stanford and G. Scott.] Archeological Investigations of the Lamb Spring Site. 

Southwestern Lore, 47(1): 14-27. 
Reminiscences 

T.D. Stewart 

ABSTRACT 

This essay represents a look at the climate of 

Smithsonian science at the time Wedel and Ewers 

began their careers at the Smithsonian Institution. 

I accepted the invitation to make some appropriate after-dinner remarks about Jack and 

Waldo, the two honorees, with some misgivings. 

Both men value their privacy and hence have 

maintained a low enough profile in their respective branches of cultural anthropology as to make 

it difficult for a physical anthropologist to say 

anything professionally revealing about them. I 

decided, therefore, that the most appropriate— 

and for those who have come from afar perhaps 

the most interesting—thing I could do would be 

to reminisce about the climate of science at the 

Smithsonian in the 1930s and 1940s, and especially at the times—10 years apart—when the 

honorees first became associated with this venerable Institution. 

Reminiscing, I have read, is an effort of an 

elderly person to recapture his or her youth. I will 

be 79 years old this year and will have spent 56 

of these years at the Smithsonian, so I hope you 

will indulge me in a bit of questing for youth. My 

aim will be two-fold: first, to rekindle the memories of some of those present and to bring to the 

attention of others certain events influencing the 

honorees during the period mentioned; and secT.D. Stewart, Department of Anthropology, National Museum of 

Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. 20560. 

ond, to throw light on the question: How has the 

Smithsonian succeeded in keeping these two men 

here so long and enabled them to accomplish so 

much? Let's begin with Waldo, the first to arrive. 

The 15th of August 1936, is the date of Waldo's 

appointment as assistant curator of archeology 

(the grade of associate curator had not yet come 

into frequent use). Franklin Roosevelt's first term, 

with its New Deal, was just ending. Although the 

country was recovering from the Great Depression, unexpected riches descended upon the 

Smithsonian during the Government's fiscal year 

1937, between 1 July 1936 and 30 June 1937, 

which included the date of Waldo's arrival. Secretary Abbot (1938:1) told about it in his report 

for that year: 

The most notable event of the year was the establishment 

of the new National Gallery of Art as a bureau of the 

Smithsonian Institution, the result of the munificent gift of 

Andrew W. Mellon of his great art collection and funds 

exceeding $10,000,000 for the construction of a suitable 

gallery building. 

As we know now, this statement underestimates 

the true value of the IVTellon gift and fails to 

indicate its potential to influence the cultural life 

of the Nation's capital. Waldo may not have paid 

much attention to the new development, but I 

was greatly stirred by it, because I was into art to 

the extent of being a member of Herbert Friedmann's art group that met Friday evenings to 

draw, paint, sculpt, or whatever. Friedmann, then 

the curator of birds, had made art history his 

hobby. This is but one example I could mention 

of the stimulation to be gained by association 

with members of other Smithsonian departments. 

Waldo's apointment was the culmination of a 

40 
NUMBER 30 41 

phase of the game of musical chairs that goes on 

all the time in the Smithsonian. But this phase 

was a bit different. Dr. Walter Hough, a longtime head curator of anthropology, had died a 

year earlier, in September 1935. Normally, he 

would have been succeeded by one of the three 

curators under him. In order of seniority, this 

would have been either Ales Hrdlicka in physical 

anthropology, Neil Judd in archeology, or Herbert Krieger in ethnology. As it happened, however, these three were not on speaking terms with 

one another. Faced with this situation, Alexander 

Wetmore, then director of the National IVIuseum, 

reached down to the next level in the hierarchy 

and picked Frank Setzler, Judd's assistant curator, to be acting head curator. But more of this 

later. 

It was the vacancy created by the shift within 

the Department of Anthropology that Waldo had 

been picked to fill. The following facts suggest 

that his selection was not by chance. Duncan 

Strong, under whom Waldo had studied archeology at Nebraska and under whom he had done 

fieldwork in the Plains, had joined the staff of the 

Bureau of American Ethnology five years earlier. 

Also, Waldo had gone from the University of 

Nebraska to the University of California at Berkeley to take his doctorate, and the latter place is 

where Strong had taken his doctorate. lUoreover, 

the Bureau was just publishing a monograph by 

Waldo on Pawnee archeology (Wedel, 1936). All 

of this means, it seems to me, that Waldo had a 

great advantage over other candidates (if any) for 

the position. 

By 1936, Neil Judd, Waldo's chief, had almost 

completely given up fieldwork, the last of which 

had centered on Chaco Canyon in New IVIexico. 

Instead, he was devoting much of his time to 

housekeeping chores in his Division, and especially to the accessioning of the vast collections 

resulting from Civil Works Administration and 

Works Progress Administration archeological 

projects—those ingenious devices of the Roosevelt 

administration for giving people employment 

while the economy was returning to normal. 

Thus, although Waldo was expected to assume 

his portion of the curatorial workload, to attend 

to some of the visitors, and to answer certain 

letters from the public, he did not have to compete with Judd for fieldwork opportunities. 

In fact, Waldo was presented with opportunities for fieldwork almost immediately. One of the 

least of these was a salvage job in physical anthropology. Two Indian ossuaries had been exposed during the grading of a runway at Boiling 

Air Force Base across the Anacostia River from 

Washington, and, in September 1936, Waldo and 

I spent a weekend removing the bones (Stewart 

and Wedel, 1937). At the time, I hoped that this 

trip to the Maryland side of the river might 

arouse Waldo's interest in eastern archeology, but 

nothing much came of it. His only activities in 

this direction, so far as my knowledge goes, consisted of occasional weekend visits to sites up the 

Potomac River with some of the local amateurs. 

Once later, when I had occasion to take him over 

to Rehoboth, Delaware, to a meeting of the Sussex County Archeological Society, I realized, as 

Figure 2 shows, that Waldo was content to assume 

the pose of an onlooker, so far as fieldwork in the 

East was concerned. 

Subsequent events confirm that Waldo was not 

about to be distracted from the career in Plains 

archeology that he had embarked upon. His first 

field trip back to the Plains under Smithsonian 

auspices began in May 1937, just nine months 

after the date of his appointment. One reason for 

this prompt return to the Plains and the many 

repeats since then was a succession of exciting 

finds. Figure 3 offers an example of one of these 

finds. It shows Waldo and George Metcalf, his 

long-time friend, looking in awe at something 

they have uncovered and probably muttering 

"What in hell is it?" 

Encouragement to pursue fieldwork was not 

the only attraction that the Smithsonian had to 

offer Waldo. At the conclusion of his 1937 field 

season, he summarized the results of that season 

in a volume of the Institution's series devoted to 

exploration and fieldwork (Wedel, 1938a). At the 

same time the Proceedings of the United States National Museum (Wedel, 1938b) carried his account 

of one of the sites explored during the 1937 field 

season. The availability of such widely distributed 
42 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

^,^. , > v.-^<'i:^--^ — 

FIGURE 2.—Waldo looking on as members and guests of the Sussex County Archeological 

Society excavate a pit in the vicinity of Rehoboth, Delaware, ca. 1950. 

outlets for prompt publication is in itself no mean 

attraction. I think you will agree that, in view of 

all this, Waldo must have found the climate of 

science in the Smithsonian to his liking. 

Let me now set the stage for Jack's arrival. It 

has long been my opinion that Setzler's advancement to the head curator's office was due largely 

to the fact that he made a special effort to ingratiate himself with his elders; not only those on the 

staff of the Anthropology Department in the 

Museum and on the staff of the Bureau, but those 

at the top of the Museum and even at the top of 

the Institution itself He carried this endeavor to 

the extreme of calling these distinguished elders 

by their first names. No one else had the temerity 

to call Wetmore "Alec," Hrdlicka "Ales," or 

Swanton "John"; yet Setzler did and apparently 

they liked it. Indeed, the three anthropological 

curators liked it so much that they acquiesed in 

Setzler's advancement over them. 

The person who was most affected by Setzler's 

selection for advancement was Henry Collins. 

Collins had been appointed assistant curator in 

ethnology in 1924, six years before Setzler arrived. 

Not only did he have this much seniority, but by 

1936 he had become one of the foremost authorities on the Eskimo, with an outstanding record 

of fieldwork and publication. In that year, in fact, 

Collins received from the King of Denmark in 

person a gold medal in recognition of his accomplishments. However, if Collins protested to Wetmore about the unfairness of the selection, it did 

no good, for in July of 1937 Wetmore abandoned 

the pretense that Setzler was simply "acting" as 

head curator and made him full curator. Largely 

as a result, Collins transferred to the Bureau of 

American Ethnology in February 1939. His arrival there coincided with that of another new 

Bureau member, William Fenton, a participant 

in this symposium. Now the stage was set for the 
NUMBER 30 43 

FIGURE 3.—Waldo and George Metcalf (with pipe) contemplating an exposed archeological feature at the Hayes 

"Council Circle'' site near Lyons, Kansas, 1967. 

next phase of the game of musical chairs—this 

time in the Division of Ethnology. 

Herbert Krieger, the curator of ethnology, 

came to the Smithsonian in the same year as 

Collins—1924. How he came to be selected for 

the position is not stated in the annual report of 

the Museum, the only source I have consulted. I 

met Krieger soon after he arrived, because 1924 

was also the year I began serving as Hrdlicka's 

temporary aide. I found Krieger agreeable 

enough, but often, no matter how good a reason 

I had for engaging him in conversation, he appeared to suspect me of having some underhanded motive and of attempting to put something over on him. I was not alone in recognizing 

Krieger's eccentricity, but evidently the latter was 

not an impediment for anyone working in his 

Division, as is evident from Collins' fruitful 15-

year record there. 

From my knowledge of Krieger's manner of 

operation, I judge that he relied on Setzler to pick 

Collins' successor. Anyway, W.W. Hill of Albuquerque, a cousin of Matthew Stirling, chief of 

the Bureau of American Ethnology, was the first 

pick. He arrived in February 1939, but stayed 

only until January 1940, before returning to the 

University of New Mexico. Hill was followed in 

March 1941 by J.E. Weckler, Jr., of Los Angeles, 

who stayed only long enough to write one of the 

Smithsonian's War Background Studies (Weckler, 1943) before resigning in January 1943. 

Whatever Hill's and Weckler's reasons for not 

staying in Washington, certainly it can be said 

that they found no satisfactory way to profit from 

the climate of science in the Smithsonian. This 

brings us to Jack. 

After Collins left the Museum it took Setzler 

and Krieger seven years and a third try before 

they found someone—meaning Jack—who 

would stay in the Division more than three years. 

The date of Jack's appointment is June 1946. 

Like Hill and Weckler before him. Jack came in 

as an associate curator. Waldo had been made 

associate curator in 1942. But whereas originally 

Waldo had come in out of the Great Depression, 

so to speak. Jack came in out of military service 

in World War II. And on the other hand, whereas 

Waldo had come in during the first term of 

Roosevelt's long administration, Jack missed by 

one year coming in during the last term—Roosevelt died in 1945 and was succeeded by Harry 

Truman. 

Administrative changes had occurred within 

the Smithsonian, too. In addition to those mentioned, Secretary Abbot had retired in 1944 and 

had been succeeded by Wetmore, who nevertheless continued on as Director of the National 

Museum. The big happening in 1946, though, 

was not administrative: the Institution celebrated 

its 100th anniversary that year. Among other 
44 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

FIGURE 4.—^Jack's interest in Indians is already apparent in 

this childhood picture of him and his brother. 

anniversary events, a special convocation, scheduled to coincide with the fall meetings of the 

National Academy of Sciences and the American 

Philosophical Society, was held in the Natural 

History Building. On that occasion Matthew Stirling gave an illustrated lecture on his work at the 

Olmec site of La Venta in Mexico. I mention this 

because Waldo spent a field season with Stirling 

at La Venta in 1943. 

Returning to Jack, it is evident from Figure 4 

that he came by his interest in Indians at an early 

age. Skipping to 1934, he participated that year 

in a museum project of the Works Progress Administration. Then from 1935 to 1940 he was 

field curator in the National Park Service, and 

from 1941 to 1944 was curator of the Museum of 

the Plains Indians at Browning, Montana, an 

important development of the Bureau of Indian 

Affairs. In one or other of these capacities prior 

to entering military service he visited the National 

Museum and met some of the anthropologists on 

the staff, including Setzler. It was Jack's good 

luck, therefore, when he saw his war service ending and inquired about openings in the National 

Museum, that Setzler happened to be casting 

about for the third try at filling the vacancy 

created by Collins' transfer. With the cooperation 

of his wife. Marge, who had already come to 

Washington, Jack landed the job. 

Jack already had an impressive publication 

record before beginning work in the Division of 

Ethnology. As early as 1939, for instance, he had 

published through the Stanford University Press 

a book on Plains Indian paintings (Ewers, 1939). 

Then between 1943 and 1945 he published in the 

American Anthropologist three impressive papers 

dealing with historic sources relating to cultural 

practices of the Indian tribes of the Northern 

Plains with special emphasis on the Blackfeet. 

The subject matter of these publications indicates 

that Jack, like Waldo, had settled on his research 

career before coming to Washington. I judge, 

therefore, that employment in the Smithsonian 

initially attracted Jack because of the opportunity 

it gave him to continue his already well-advanced 

ethnographic studies of the Northern Plains 

tribes. 

Whether or not Jack knew that Setzler was 

beginning to think about modernizing the anthropology exhibits in the Natural History Building—exhibits that had not been changed substantially since the building was opened in 1911— I 

have not learned. In any event, when the time 
NUMBER 30 45 

came Jack's extensive previous experience in muscology enabled him to make important contributions in that direction. 

Although early in fiscal year 1947 Jack was 

settled behind a desk at a great distance from the 

Plains, as in Waldo's case, his continuation of 

fieldwork was not out of the question. The record 

shows that during the fiscal year Jack spent three 

months at several reservations in the Northern 

Plains. Just then, fortunately, he could avoid 

conflict with Krieger's absences on field trips, 

because the latter's interests had turned from the 

Northwest Coast to the Carribean where the best 

time for work is in our winter months. 

Figure 5 shows Jack in the cluttered room that 

served as his office during his early years in 

Washington. None of the Indian pictures that 

hung on the walls of that office appear in this 

photograph, unfortunately. Indian pictures, and 

especially those by Catlin, are among the Smithsonian's greatest historical treasures. Incidentally, 

the Catlins are now housed in a Smithsonian art 

gallery built in 1840, the date they were first 

shown in Europe. Noteworthy, too, is the fact 

that the National Gallery of Art, that great gift 

to the Nation mentioned earlier, has acquired 

some other Catlins. Less conspicuous, but no less 

important as historical treasures are the records 

of early Indian visitors to Washington. Many 

such records, formerly in the Bureau's archives, 

are now a part of the National Anthropological 

Archives in the Natural History Building. Doubtless the opportunities to work with these treasures 

at first hand was another part of the climate of 

science at the Smithsonian that kept Jack in the 

Division of Ethnology beyond the three-year limit 

of his immediate predecessor and later brought 

him back after he was lured away for a few years 

to help design and open the Institution's new 

History and Technology Building (now the National Museum of American History). 

In conclusion, it should be noted that Waldo 

FIGURE 5.—^Jack amid the storage cases in the first office he 

occupied in the Natural History Museum. 

and Jack are now enjoying a traditional part of 

the climate of science at the Smithsonian; 

namely, the privilege of continuing to occupy the 

same, or equivalent, office after retirement. Abbot 

stayed past the age of 100; Wetmore finished his 

reports on the birds of Panama while he was in 

his nineties; Judd stayed on long enough to finish 

his Pueblo Bonito reports; and here I am, busier 

than ever eight years after retirement. All of this 

should be encouragement to Waldo and Jack to 

carry on as long as they can. 
46 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Literature Cited 

Abbot, Charles G. 

1938. Report of the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution for the Year Ended June 30, 1937. In Annual 

Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution 1937, pages 1-118. Washington, D.C: 

Smithsonian Institution. 

Ewers, John C. 

1939. Plains Indian Painting: A Description of an Aboriginal 

American Art. Palo Alto: Stanford University 

Press. 

1943. Were the Blackfoot Rich in Horses? American Anthropologist, 45(4):602-610. 

Use. American Anthropologist, 46(2): 182-192. 

1945. The Case for Blackfoot Pottery. American Anthropologist, A7 {2) .289-299. 

Stewart, T.D., and W.R. Wedel 

1937. The Finding of Two Ossuaries on the Site of the 

Indian Village of Nacotchtanke (Anacostia)./OMT--

nal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, 27(5)213-

219. 

Weckler, J.E., Jr. 

1943. Polynesians, Explorers of the Pacific. Smithsonian 

Institution, War Background Series, 6:77 pages. 

Wedel, W.R. 

1936. An Introduction to Pawnee Archeology. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 112. 

1938a. Inaugurating an Archeological Survey in Kansas. 

In Explorations and Field-Work of the Smithsonian 

Institution in 1937, pages 103-106. 

1938b. Hopewellian Remains near Kansas City, Missouri. 

Proceedings of the United States National Museum, 

86(3045): 99-106. 
An Historical Character Mythologized: 

The Scalped Man in Arikara and Pawnee Folkore 

Douglas R. Parks 

ABSTRACT 

In Plains warfare individuals occasionally survived scalping. Called "scalped men" by the Arikara and Pawnee, they were considered to be no 

longer human and were forced to live a solitary 

existence outside the pale of human society. The 

scalped man as a character has uniquely permeated Arikara and Pawnee folklore. He occurs 

variously as an historical personage, as a legendary figure who is a benefactor or bestower of 

supernatural power, and as a legendary character 

in a mythological context. Further, he appears as 

a comic and a bogeyman. In these different roles 

he illustrates how an historical individual was 

evolving into a mythological figure. 

The Arikara story "The Origin of Summer in 

the North" presents an interesting problem for 

the folklorist. That the reader may appreciate 

this problem, a translation of the myth as told by 

Not Afraid Of The Enemy (Pa:tuh Kananumino) is 

given here in its entirety. 

Long, long ago when we people were not yet living on 

this earth, when the ways were holy on this earth, there was 

no summer here in this country. It was truly cold—always 

winter. Oh, it's not known how long the time lasted when it 

never got warm, when it would just always be winter. 

Now a raven came along. It's not known whence he came. 

Then came a coyote, and then a scalped man. Now there 

were the three of them, and they said. "Oh, everything is so 

difficult for us when it is winter all the time, never getting 

Douglas R. Parks, Indian Languages Program, Mary College, Bismark. North Dakota 58501. 

warm, just winter, winter. It would certainly be nice if it 

were warm and green grass were to come up for these buffalo 

and the other creatures roaming around here to eat. Instead, 

it is just winter, and it makes things difficult." 

While these three were talking about the situation, Raven 

said, "Say, there is one living who controls things where it is 

summer. (It is the sun.) If we were to steal his child and 

bring him here, the sun will come looking for his boy. He 

will follow us.'' 

One of the others asked how they would do that, and 

Raven said, "We will go south to where he lives. Now, truly 

I know where he lives. I know where the sun's lodge is." 

Then they went in a war party, going after summer so 

that it would be warm some of the time where we live here. 

Raven led them to the place, wherever it was. Then he 

announced, "Here is the place; this dwelling belongs to the 

sun, and this is where his son lives. Now, Scalped Man is 

going to be the one to enter it. While the boy's father sleeps, 

he will bring the boy here. The boy is a ring (or hoop) and 

is hanging up in there. You, Scalped Man, will take the ring, 

and when you exit they are going to chase you. Oh, they 

watch over him. They watch over him; so after you enter 

and then come out, I'll be right there. You will put the ring 

around my neck, and I'll come flying north for as long as 

my strength lasts. Now this one here, Coyote: When I arrive 

where it's winter, Coyote will be the one to take the ring. 

He'll carry it for as long as his strength lasts. The heat is 

going to follow us, so that summer will come when they 

chase us." 

Now that is what they did. Scalped Man entered the 

lodge. Since he could see well at night, he found it after 

looking all around. He took the ring and went out. He gave 

it to Raven, putting it around his neck. Raven then flew up 

and ran away with the boy as the tribe of people—whoever 

they were—were yelling back there. 

This is what they used to tell: They began chasing after 

Raven, but Scalped Man was holding the crowd back so 

that the pursuers would not shoot Raven. He was holding 

them back as Raven came north. 

Finally Raven said, "My strength is gone now," and then 

47 
48 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

he arrived where Coyote sat. The ring was put around the 

head of Coyote, who said, "Truly, no one ever overtakes 

me." Then Coyote ran with all his strength, coming, coming, 

coming. After four days, his strength left him, and Coyote 

sat down tired. "Let me sleep a little while, and then I'll 

regain my strength!" 

After he lay down and began to sleep, some birds came 

flying up to Coyote. Whatever kind of bird it was, it picked 

up the sun's boy and turned back with him. Now right there 

is where the northern boundary of summer is, here where we 

live. It isn't known how things would be if Coyote had 

retained his strength. But he was tired when he sat down 

and slept. He thought, "Let me sleep just a little while!" 

Had he gone further north again, it isn't known what it 

would be like. 

Now this is what happened when summer first came here. 

It became winter again; and then summer returned. That is 

the way things came to be as they are now. 

This story is an Arikara version of the widespread Promethean myth, which, in variant forms 

throughout North America, accounts for the origin of daylight or fire on earth. Here it accounts 

for the origin of summer in the Northern Plains. 

In all its manifestations throughout the continent, 

the story has two common features. The event 

occurred during mythical times, before the earth 

had completely assumed its present order and 

human beings had occupied it. Further, the theft 

of either the sun or fire is attempted by animals. 

The specific cast of animals varies in the stories 

of different tribes, but it always consists of animals. What is peculiar to this Arikara version is 

that one of the characters. Scalped Man, is not 

an animal, but an historical figure, a human 

being who had been scalped in battle and survived. At first blush, then. Scalped Man is an 

anomaly—a human character misplaced in a prehuman context. 

A study of Arikara folklore, however, reveals 

that Scalped Man is not really anomalous in this 

story. His occurrence here is actually a natural 

extension of the roles he plays in other types of 

stories in the folklore of the Arikara as well as the 

Pawnee. These two tribes are closely related 

Northern Caddoan tribes, which formerly resided 

in the Dakotas and Nebraska, respectively. In 

their oral traditions, the scalped man is, indeed, 

a prominent figure whose portrayal is varied. In 

many instances he is a real character—an unfortunate individual who lurks outside the pale of 

his former human society—and is the subject of 

anecdotes about encounters with him. Other stories, however, do more than merely relate simple 

encounters. In one type, he becomes a benefactor 

for a relative or for a lone hunter, who then rises 

to social prominence. An extension of these are 

the blessing, or medicine, stories, a type in which 

the scalped man, who is a legendary character, 

bestows supernatural gifts on an individual, giving him mysterious powers for success in war, 

hunting, and medicine. In these stories, too, the 

recipient rises to social prominence through the 

powers he has acquired. Beyond these, there are 

at least two truly mythological stories into which 

Scalped Man, the legendary figure, has become 

integrated. Finally, in addition to these roles, 

Scalped Man also appears in incipient form as a 

comic in humorous stories, and among the Pawnee he was impersonated in dance as an institutionalized bogeyman. 

The purpose of this paper, then, is to describe 

the scalped man as a character seemingly unique 

to the folklore of the Arikara and Pawnee—to 

examine the social attitudes towards him, to survey the various roles he played in the folklore, 

and to observe how an historical character was 

evolving into a mythological figure. The study is 

based on a collection of thirty stories, only half of 

which come from published sources. 

The Historical Figure 

In Plains warfare the practice of scalping an 

enemy was generally restricted to a dead foe, 

since it was a greater honor to touch, or count 

coup on, a live enemy (Grinnell, 1910). Usually, 

however, it was the man who lay unconscious on 

the battlefield, either from a blow on the head or 

a wound, who was mistaken for dead and was 

scalped. Since the removal of one's scalp was not 

necessarily fatal, many such victims later revived 

and lived. These survivors of scalping were known 

as scalped men {tshunuxu' in Arikara, kicahuruksu' 

in Pawnee). A person who had been scalped was 

said by the Arikara to be ruined {tira:hu:'U "he is 
NUMBER 30 49 

ruined"), since the act of scalping meant literally 

"to ruin" an individual. (The Arikara verb "to 

scalp" is ra:huno.) Once a person had been scalped, 

he left his human state: ti' iciwini:tu' "he is transformed; he is different," no longer human. In this 

new condition he was unable to return to his 

village and his people. Shame forced him to live 

a solitary life thenceforward, forever shunning 

human contact. He established a domicile in a 

lonely or inaccessible location, and he restricted 

his travel and outside activities to the nighttime 

or dusk, unless he were sure not to be seen by 

human beings during the daytime. 

The scalped man's dwelling (tshuNUxdka) was 

always a cave, generally on a steep hillside, where 

it was difficult to reach. There might be camouflaged steps up the hillside to enable him to reach 

the entrance, which was usually concealed by a 

door covered with brush or weeds and with a 

protruding root that was used to gain entry. In 

areas where there were no steep hillsides, a cave 

was dug into an embankment. Although the interior of the cave is usually not described in 

Arikara stories, in most of the Pawnee tales it is 

characterized as having wild sage strewn over the 

floor, with a fireplace in the center, a buffalo skull 

altar nearby, and a bed along the wall. Water 

either was obtained from a spring within the cave 

or was stored inside it in a cistern. Frequently, 

too, the cave was well supplied with valuable 

articles stolen either from the enemy or from the 

scalped man's own people. These articles might 

include parfleches of meat, brass kettles, shields, 

war clubs, bows, and even sacred bundles. 

The dress of the scalped man varied. Sometimes he wore leggings and other standard articles 

of clothing, but sometimes he is portrayed 

wrapped in animal hides. Although he is depicted 

in several stories with his head exposed and 

scabby, he usually has his head covered to hide 

the wound and perhaps to hold the flesh of his 

forehead up so that the skin does not droop over 

his eyes. In Pawnee stories the head covering is 

frequently white sheeting; but in Arikara accounts it is invariably an animal-hide cap or an 

entire hide, generally a coyote's. When wearing 

a full hide, he is fitted with the animal's head 

over his own; and the body of the hide, together 

with the tail, trails down his back (Figure 6). 

Against this background, we may now survey 

those stories which portray the scalped man as an 

historical character to see how he was perceived 

by Arikaras and Pawnees. Within this set there 

are eight stories—all basically anecdotal in nature—which recount simple encounters with a 

scalped man. 

A nearly universal depiction of the scalped 

man, and the one most common in this set of 

stories, is a fleeting figure who evades human 

contact. This theme alone is the subject of several 

Arikara accounts. In one story (Parks, 1977:8-

11), an Arikara war party came up a bluff overlooking the Missouri River and saw a scalped 

man on the bank down below. He was naked, 

since he had been washing his clothes, and was 

muttering in Arikara to himself as he drank from 

the river. When a member of the party called out 

to him, he jumped into the river, swam across it, 

and disappeared among the trees on the other 

side. The party came down to where his possessions were; and after inspecting them, they returned home. Sometimes later, the same men 

returned to this spot and there lay all his things, 

untouched; only his knife was gone. 

In another story a man and his wife went on a 

hunting trip. During the day, while her husband 

was off hunting, the woman was tending to their 

camp, and when she looked up she saw a scalped 

man who stood at a distance with his chin resting 

on a horizontal tree branch. He wore a coyote 

headdress, the ears of which protruded upright. 

The woman was frightened and furtively picked 

up an axe, which she kept close by. All day the 

scalped man watched her; but at sundown, when 

her husband returned, he ran off After she told 

her husband what had happened and how fearful 

she had been, they dismantled their camp and 

returned home to their village. In this, as in many 

other accounts, then, the scalped man is a 

frightening being who unnerved people, particularly women. 

A Pawnee story (Dorsey, 1906:139-140) tells of 
50 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

2m >' ' 

FIGURE 6.—An Arikara tshunuxu'' 

(scalped man) by a creek. Drawn by 

David J. Ripley. 
NUMBER 30 51 

a war party that happened on an enemy village 

that was larger than it had expected to find. In 

the ensuing fight, all of the Pawnees were scalped 

but not killed. They went off to live in the hills; 

and years later a lone hunter came upon these 

scalped men in a grove of trees, where they were 

singing and dancing. He recognized them, and 

shot over their heads so that they ran off to their 

cave. He followed them, but was afraid to enter 

the cave, and so he returned home only to tell the 

people that the men whom they thought were 

dead were in fact scalped men. 

Another portrayal of the scalped man is that of 

a thief, one who steals into the village at night 

after everyone is asleep and takes whatever he 

can. In many stories his home, when discovered, 

is found to be full of provisions taken from the 

village of his people. One Arikara story specifically makes this point. When the people were 

living in Like-A-Fishhook Village, someone repeatedly stole hides that during the tanning process were hung up outside at night. One evening 

a man determined to catch the thief, so he had 

his wife hang a hide up and then he lay in wait. 

When the thief came to take it, the man chased 

after him, but the thief eluded him. The man, 

nevertheless, trailed him relentlessly, even though 

while he was tracking him, the human tracks 

frequently turned into those of a coyote, then 

back to those of a human. Finally, the scalped 

man killed a deer and left the carcass to entice 

his pursuer to stop; however, it was not until the 

scalped man crossed a river by jumping on pieces 

of floating ice that he escaped. The man then 

returned to the village and told the people that it 

had been a scalped man who had stolen their 

hides and that they must stop blaming one another. 

The scalped man occasionally stole women, 

too. In one story told by both the Pawnee and 

Arikara (Dorsey, 1904a: 148, 1904b:78), he 

wanted a wife. After he caught a young woman 

who was outside the village, he started for his 

cave with her. But when they came to a creek, 

the girl persuaded him to submerge himself in the 

water and soak the scabs on his head so that they 

would peel off easily and he would not appear so 

frightful. Then while he had his head under 

water, she ran off, escaping home, while the 

pathetic scalped man cried in frustration about 

his unfortunate condition. 

Within this set of stories there is, finally, one 

that depicts the scalped man as a joker who 

ridicules the sacred. A group of Arikara men who 

were on an eagle trapping expedition built a 

lodge and fitted it out with a supply of wood, a 

fireplace, and an altar consisting of a buffalo skull 

and a Mother Corn. After having prepared the 

inside, they put some ribs over the fire to roast 

while they were out in their traps. Later, they 

returned to the lodge only to find their belongings, the wood, and the ribs scattered around. 

The buffalo skull had been smeared with soot, so 

that it was now black; and a face had been drawn 

on the Mother Corn. Angered by this sacrilege, 

the men determined to catch the culprit. They 

rearranged the lodge, and the next day they hid 

themselves in holes nearby. Later a man came 

stealing to the lodge. After he was inside, the men 

came to the door. The intruder was talking to the 

skull and Mother Corn in Arikara, telling the 

objects that he had decorated them yesterday and 

here the men had subsequently spoiled them. 

When the men silently entered, they found a 

scalped man kneeling down in the center of the 

lodge, his back to them as he talked to Grandfather Skull. One of the men now called out to him, 

"Hey, you going around here, /wouldn't be doing 

those things if / had a village" (i.e., were a 

member of society). Startled, the scalped man 

jumped up; and when he saw all the men, he 

collapsed from shock. The men, assuming he had 

died of fright, left him lying there, picked up their 

belongings, and returned home. They told people 

what had happened: how this young man, who 

had supposedly died years ago, was alive as a 

scalped man; how he had ridiculed them; and 

how he had died of fright when they caught him. 

Later, the relatives of the young man went to find 

his body; but when they reached the lodge, he 

was no longer there. He had apparently revived 

and departed, never to be seen again. 
52 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

The Provider 

Several narratives relate that a warrior, after 

having been scalped, was revived by a mysterious 

being who gave him supernatural power and 

thereby made him holy. Subsequently, the 

scalped man himself was able to provide for the 

wants of others (either a relative or a lone hunter), 

so long as his identity was not revealed and he 

did not have any intimacy with humans. There 

is thus a small set of transitional stories that 

intergrade with the previous and following sets 

and that portray the scalped man as a provider 

for another person. 

A popular Arikara story, which occurs in several forms (e.g., Dorsey, 1904a: 149-151), tells 

about a lone hunter who, while lying on a hilltop, 

saw a scalped man kill a deer in the valley below 

and then disappear with it into the side of a 

distant hill. The hunter went to the spot where 

the scalped man had entered, and when he found 

the door he himself went in. The hunter then 

learned that long ago the scalped man had been 

killed in a battle and later he was revived and 

blessed by Night. Now he travelled at night as a 

spirit and was able to take scalps, capture horses, 

and catch eagles without difficulty. He asked the 

hunter what he sought; and when the scalped 

man was told that he wished for horses, he said 

that he would bring the hunter a herd. The man 

must, however, remain in the cave while he was 

gone and later must not reveal his identity or 

location to anyone. The next morning the scalped 

man returned with horses for him and said that 

the man was to give one of the horses to the 

scalped man's wife and son after he returned to 

the village. On numerous occasions thereafter, 

the man returned to the scalped man's cave to 

obtain horses, scalps, and eagles. He became 

known among the tribe for his bravery and finally 

became a chief Years later, however, when he 

became ill, he told the people about the scalped 

man who was responsible for his success. A party 

then went to the scalped man's cave, but they 

found no one there. The scalped man had told 

the man that were he to divulge his, the scalped 

man's, location, he would know; and now the 

betrayed benefactor had moved to a new dwelling 

and was never seen again. 

In a similar Arikara story a young man lost his 

brother in a battle and later could not find the 

body. After searching everywhere he finally discovered a scalped man who turned out to be his 

slain brother. This scalped man, too, provided 

the brother with horses, scalps, and eagles, but 

insisted that his identity and location not be 

revealed to anyone. As a result of the things his 

scalped brother gave him, the young man became 

noted among his people; but finally he tired of 

keeping the secret. When he told people how he 

had achieved his success, his tshunuxu' brother 

disappeared, never to be heard from again. 

Melvin Gilmore (1933:39-43) recounted another Arikara story in this category. There was a 

man who had been scalped in battle, and his 

wife, thinking him dead, used to go outside the 

village to mourn for him. One day her husband, 

who had been watching her, revealed himself and 

explained that he had been blessed by a mysterious being but was to be forever separated from 

the living. Afterwards they met frequently, and 

her husband supplied her with provisions and 

other gifts. He, too, insisted that his identity be 

kept secret. One evening after they had been 

meeting, their old love overcame them and they 

had relations. The scalped man immediately felt 

remorse and expressed regret for having done 

something he should not have done, for now, he 

explained, he must die. He told his wife where 

his cave was and said that if he did not return to 

her the next evening, he would be dead. Then she 

and his relatives should come to the cave and 

divide among themselves the supplies that he had 

stored there. And indeed it happened as he had 

said. After he did not meet her the following 

evening, the woman told his relatives. The next 

day they went to the cave and there found his 

dead body. After dividing his accumulated supplies and goods, they sealed the entrance to the 

cave with the body remaining in it, and then 

returned home. 
NUMBER 30 53 

The Legendary Figure 

An important and distinct category of stories 

consists of those that relate the origin of a medicine society or the medicine (i.e., power) of an 

individual, either a prominent doctor or a successful warrior. Characteristically, these stories 

recount how a young man was blessed with supernatural abilities by an animal or, less frequently, another agent. Sometimes the power was 

for good fortune in war or hunting; sometimes it 

was for success in doctoring—to heal, to mesmerize, and to perform legerdemain. Within this 

genre in Arikara and Pawnee folklore, a not 

uncommon source of power, other than an animal 

or occasionally a celestial object, was a scalped 

man who had previously been blessed himself by 

some supernatural agency. Thus, this category of 

stories differs from the preceding one in that the 

scalped man bestows power on a recipient, enabling that person to perform his own marvels, 

rather than simply supplying the individual with 

gifts that he, the scalped man, has obtained 

through the power originally conferred on him. 

Attributing doctoring power to a scalped man 

was especially common among the Pawnee. In 

one story (Dorsey, 1904b:203-205), a woman who 

had just quarrelled with her husband went outside the village and was lured by a scalped man 

to his cave. He forced her to remain with him; 

and after a year she had a child by him. After 

they lived together for several more years, she 

finally determined she would return home. One 

day when the scalped man was off looking for 

clothing for the child, the woman put her son on 

her back, took one of the warrior's bundles that 

the scalped man had stolen, and left. After she 

had returned to the village, the scalped man came 

there one night to get his son. While he was 

attempting to obtain the boy, the child died; and 

after the body was laid at the edge of the village, 

the father took it. 

For many years nothing was heard of the 

scalped man; but one day a young man came to 

the village, and his mother knew it was her son. 

He had been reared by his father, the scalped 

man; and now, after he returned, he entered the 

Doctors' Lodge, where he sang his song while he 

performed sleight-of-hand. He performed many 

marvelous acts, and finally became one of the 

leading doctors, taking the name Holy Man. 

Later, he left the village for a long time. When he 

returned, there was much sickness among the 

people, and he was able to cure several persons 

whom the doctors had been unable to treat successfully. His reputation grew; but finally, when 

he led a group of warriors on the warpath, he 

never returned. 

The bestowal of doctoring and war powers, as 

well as the power to perform ventriloquism, is 

related in another Pawnee kicahuruksu' story (Dorsey, 1906:390-394). In it a Pawnee war party, 

after having successfully raided a Comanche village and having captured many horses, reorganized as soon as it returned home. The second 

expedition, however, did not enjoy the same good 

fortune as the first: the enemy surrounded the 

raiders and killed and wounded many Pawnees. 

After the survivors fled and were en route home, 

one man, who had been wounded in the leg, was 

unable to keep up with the others; so his companions left him with provisions and continued home. 

Shortly after the party was gone, the man heard 

many voices; and then someone called out that 

he had made the noises only to frighten the man. 

The wounded warrior saw no one, however. Over 

a period of several days, the same routine occurred, until finally there appeared a scalped 

man who said he was responsible for the voices 

and offered to take the man to his cave, where he 

would heal his wounds. 

After the warrior was settled in the cave, the 

scalped man would leave every day. While he 

was gone, the warrior would hear the voices of 

many different people, including those of his 

family. Then the scalped man would reappear 

laughing. At last, this kicahuruksu' said he would 

give the wounded man the power to make the 

voices of many different people. After instructing 

him in the art, the scalped man taught him 

sleight-of-hand and then healed his leg. Finally 

he gave the man his remaining powers: by cov-
54 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ering his body with white clay and putting a 

white downy eagle feather in his hair, the man 

could travel like a spirit, running as fast as the 

wind; and by breaking pieces of wild sage and 

carrying them with him, the pieces would turn 

into arrows during battle. 

Later, when the man returned home, the doctors were meeting in the Doctors' Lodge, performing the sleight-of-hand taught them by various 

animals. The warrior who had been blessed by 

the scalped man entered and performed his newly 

learned marvels. His feats surprised the doctors 

and spectators, who now thought he was endowed 

with power. While the Doctors' Lodge ceremony 

was still in progress, the enemy, among whom 

was an invincible warrior, attacked the Pawnee 

village. When it appeared that the Pawnees 

would be overcome, the man with the scalped 

man's medicine left the lodge and used his powers: as fast as the wind, he charged into the enemy 

and killed many warriors, including the seemingly invincible one. Subsequently, he became a 

noted doctor and warrior who lived for a long 

time. Finally, though, when something told him 

that his benefactor, the scalped man, had died, 

he himself no longer wished to live and so committed suicide. 

Another Pawnee story, which is recorded in 

truncated form (Dorsey, 1904b:210-212), accounts for certain features of the Buffalo-Doctors' 

Lodge: why it contained a buffalo-skull altar; 

why its doctors daubed their heads with white 

clay, so that their hair appeared as if they had 

been scalped; and why they offered smoke to a 

being who dwelt in the south, a being seen by the 

man who maintained the lodge. 

One day this man was going along the Republican River and saw a buffalo that suddenly 

turned into a man. The appearance of the buffalo 

and its transformation occurred over several days, 

and the man finally decided to follow it. The 

buffalo led him to a cave, in which there was a 

buffalo-skull altar. While the man prayed to the 

skull, a scalped man came up to him. The man 

told him that he had belonged to the buffalo, a 

statement which derives from the Pawnee belief 

that every child (through the medium of one of 

its parents), while still in the mother's womb, is 

brought under the power of an animal. Later in 

his life, the doctors are able to identify which 

animal is his guardian by his actions when he is 

ill. In this story, the scalped man is referring to 

the buffalo as having been his guardian while he 

was alive, and after being scalped he had stayed 

with a buffalo, which had given him certain 

powers and this skull for an altar. Now, the 

scalped man said he would teach this man his 

secrets: how to doctor and how to have success in 

war. After learning these things, the man returned 

home and sponsored a Buffalo-Doctors' Lodge 

dance, during the performance of which he demonstrated great power. The participants, following his lead, offered smoke to the buffalo skull on 

the altar and to the scalped man who dwelt in 

the south. Several days after the dance, the participants formed into four war parties, each of 

which went in a different direction. Soon they all 

returned with numerous horses, and consequently 

attributed their successes to the power given by 

the scalped man. 

A final illustration of this set of stories is an 

Arikara version of a similar Pawnee tale (Weltfish, 1937:238-240). In this story a lost hunter 

was accosted by seven tshunuxu', each of whom 

was deformed in a different way. One had no ear, 

another no nose, another no leg, etc., and each 

was named according to his missing body part. 

When they went off, the hunter followed them to 

their cave, where they were expecting him. The 

leader told him that they had been killed in a 

battle, but Night had revived and blessed them 

with certain powers. He told the hunter that 

nothing was difficult for them except obtaining 

tobacco, which both the spirits and gods like to 

smoke. Since they were unable to obtain it themselves, they always asked humans for it as a gift 

offering. If the hunter would provide them with 

tobacco, they would teach him their powers: to 

use certain medicines to heal and to know the 

ways of the warpath and hunting. The scalped 

men then taught him their mysteries and medicine songs. Later, after forbidding him to reveal 
NUMBER 30 55 

their identity to anyone, they sent him home for 

tobacco. He returned with it and satisfied them. 

Afterwards, he became noted as a great warrior 

and doctor and lived to an old age. 

The Mythological Figure 

Farthest removed from the recent past is the 

mythological period, an age which precedes the 

historical past. It is a time when the gods, supernatural beings, and animals were the principal 

actors in dramas that explain the origin and order 

of the present world, a time before the primary 

actors were humans who were concerned with 

secular affairs. 

One example of the two myths presented at the 

outset of this paper (p. 47) is the story that 

explains the origin of summer in the Northern 

Plains. In that story most of the actors are animals, as indeed they always are in the same myth 

where it occurs elsewhere. In the Arikara version, 

however. Scalped Man is a character integrated 

into the animal cast and treated as a figure 

belonging to that period. 

The other example is a Pawnee myth (Dorsey, 

1904a: 74-78) that is placed early in human history and explains why death continues to prevail 

upon earth. A cosmological story, it portrays 

scalped men as intermediaries between the celestial gods and people on earth; and, in fact, the 

leader of the scalped men is said to be a god 

himself 

In the story a man lost both his wife and son, 

and in his bereavement he wandered through the 

country in quest of death. While he was in a 

timbered area, he encountered a group of scalped 

men whom he followed into their cave. He told 

the scalped men of his losses and that he would 

like to remain with them rather than live with 

humans anymore. The leader responded that they 

could not allow him to stay. They themselves 

should have gone to the Spirit Land, he told the 

man, but Tirawahat had released their spirits so 

that they could return to their people the warrior 

bundle that hung in the cave. Now they wanted 

to teach this man the ceremony of the bundle. 

and then he could take it and its ritual back 

among the people. The man, however, refused, 

saying that he preferred to die so that he might 

see his son. Moved by the man's wishes, the 

leader, who was now himself a god, said that he 

would take the man's request to the gods in the 

west. When he returned, he told the man that 

Tirawahat had consented to allow the dead to 

return to earth to see the living. The man was to 

go back to his people and bring them to a camp 

nearby. There the dead would come, too, and 

dead and living would be reunited for four days. 

The man could, he was told, touch his son, but 

he could not speak to him. At the meeting the 

bundle and its ceremony would also be given 

back to the people, and those dead spirits who 

wished to remain on earth might do so. 

When the meeting occurred the man not only 

embraced his son but spoke to him as well, in 

spite of the admonition. As soon as he spoke, all 

of the spirits disappeared, and the man was left 

broken-hearted. The people, who received the 

bundle, returned home; but the man continued 

to wander, never to be with people again, for he 

had been responsible for death remaining on 

earth. 

The Comic Character 

In contrast to the sets of tales just presented, 

all of which are serious by nature and reputedly 

true, there are humorous stories—fictional in 

character and told purely for amusement—in 

which Scalped Man also appears. 

In one group of these stories. Scalped Man 

himself is the protagonist. Here he is portrayed 

simply as a fleeting, or filmy, character who is a 

trickster. The Pawnee story of Scalped Man and 

the Two Couples (Parks, 1977:79-81) illustrates 

this type. In it two couples, who have been out 

hunting, decide to return home. They are coming 

back, and just before crossing the Platte River 

they hear someone calling out, "Huu, huu!" One 

of the men then instructs the two women to lie 

on their backs, with arms and legs spread out, on 

the east side of the trail, while the two men are to 
56 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

lie on their stomachs on the west side. No sooner 

do they position themselves thus than Scalped 

Man appears. "Oh my," he observes, "there are 

people lying here! They must have died long 

ago." Then he went to one of the men, lifted up 

his breechcloth, and spread the man's cheeks. 

"Oh," he commented, "they must have shot him 

here." Then Scalped Man went to one of the 

women, whom he also inspected. "Oh, they must 

have died long ago," he said as he passed his hand 

over her vulva, noting she was unclean. ''''Long ago 

they must have died!" At this comment the two 

men angrily arose, but Scalped Man, the scoundrel, ran off and disappeared into the timber. 

Scalped Man appears, as well, in Coyote stories. In one illustrative tale it is Scalped Woman, 

however, rather than Scalped Man, who is the 

character juxtaposed with Coyote (Dorsey, 

1906:428-429). Coyote came upon Scalped 

Woman and began to taunt her about the matter 

running off her head, although he in fact was 

anxious to take her sexually. When he continued 

to tease her, Scalped Woman chased after him, 

trying to kill him. Coyote bounded out of sight 

and then changed himself into a little old man 

whom Scalped Woman approached for information on Coyote's whereabouts. After Coyote 

fooled her for a while, he taunted her again, and 

the entire episode repeated itself several times, 

until Coyote managed to trap Scalped Woman 

in a hole, where she became stuck. There he was 

able to satisfy his lust. Afterwards, Scalped 

Woman lived with him as his wife for several 

years; then Coyote tired of her and went off to 

hunt, never to return. 

The Bogeyman 

There is, finally, one other manifestation of the 

scalped man figure besides the character portrayed in specific stories. It was a manifestation 

expressed in two different roles and was based on 

the popular belief that these beings were bogeymen. Although in tales he frequently is a benefactor and source of mystical power that can be 

used for beneficial ends, he was popularly envisioned as a malevolent spirit. He was, after all, 

no longer human and was doomed to a solitary 

life dwelling in caves, moving about during the 

night, and stealing what he needed. As illustrated 

in the anecdotes above, he reputedly would steal 

women and children; and so people feared this 

being who haunted dark, isolated areas. 

Perceived thus, the scalped man quite naturally played the role of a bogeyman and was used 

by both Arikara and Pawnee adults to make their 

children behave. Should a child misbehave at 

night, a parent threatened to put him outside the 

lodge and call a scalped man to come get him. 

To give reinforced credulity to this threat, the 

Arikara told a story about one boy who had been 

put outside on a cold winter night. After the 

scalped man was summoned, the parents closed 

the door of the lodge; and later when they went 

out to bring the child inside, he was gone and 

never seen again. This threat, then, was not to be 

taken lightly. 

The other role of the scalped man as a sort of 

bogeyman was displayed among the Pawnee in 

the Dance of the Scalped Ones. (See Weltfish, 

1965:356-358, 370-372, for a detailed account of 

this dance.) It was performed when the annual 

Doctors' Lodge convened in late summer for the 

doctors' twenty-day ceremony, an extended series 

of performances designed to demonstrate the 

powers of the established, leading doctors of the 

band. Among the scheduled performances, the 

Dance of the Scalped Ones occurred several times 

over the twenty-day period. It was different from 

all the other dances, in which animals were always impersonated, for in this mime the actors 

were the spirits of persons who had been scalped 

by the enemy. 

The dance was performed outdoors at night, 

and everything surrounding it was done to create 

a mood of weirdness. First, the two drummers ran 

out from the Doctors' Lodge and sat facing each 

other. Then as they began to beat their drums in 

all sorts of irregular beats, the kicahuruksu' 

emerged running from the lodge. Their bodies 

were plastered all over with mud, and on their 

heads and faces there were thicker coats, so that 
NUMBER 30 57 

as the actors approached they appeared as a mud 

bank. The song for the dance was sung to an 

irregular tune, and the dancing itself consisted of 

erratic motioning and jumps in every direction, 

all designed to promote a scary effect. At the end 

of the song both dancers and drummers ran back 

into the lodge. Then the same performance was 

repeated three more times. On the fourth and last 

round, however, the actors came out of the lodge 

dancing backwards. Near the end of the performance dancers and drummers fell to the ground. 

At last they looked up dazedly; and when they 

noticed the people around them, they jumped up 

and ran back into the lodge. 

After most dance performances among the 

Pawnee, the dancers were given a meal by one or 

more donors. But the actors in the Dance of the 

Scalped Ones were an exception. Since the kicahuruksu' "wtrc known to be thieves who would steal 

anything, given the chance, they were fortunate 

to receive whatever donations of corn had been 

made to them and were expected to provide for 

themselves whatever dried meat they could steal. 

Summary Remarks 

From the preceding discussion of the various 

roles of the scalped man in Arikara and Pawnee 

folklore, it is apparent that cultural attitudes 

toward this figure were ambivalent. He was, at 

one extreme, a malevolent spirit who stole human 

possessions, as well as women and children. He 

had mysterious powers and lurked in dark, remote 

terrain. Therefore, he was an object of fear, a 

being who was capable of performing evil. At the 

same time, as a large number of stories attest, he 

was both capable of and willing to bestow power 

on a fellow tribesman to enable that individual 

to doctor the sick or wounded and to achieve 

personal success in war and hunting. At the other 

extreme, then, the scalped man was a source of 

good fortune who pitied men and "blessed" them. 

Thus in these cultures he was like the doctor, an 

animal, or any other object or being endowed 

with miraculous powers: tiwa:ruxti' (Pawnee 

tiwa.ruksti') 'he was holy', and consequently he 

was a source of both good and evil. 

These attitudes derived from the popular belief 

that the scalped man had been killed and scalped, 

and that later he had been resuscitated by a 

mysterious being, sometimes (as discussed above) 

by Night, other times by Wind, an animal, or 

some other agent. The scalped man was, then, in 

a transformed state, no longer human, and destined to live in the opaque world of spirits. 

Several stories and anecdotes, however, suggest 

that some scalped men were not viewed in quite 

this light, that they were seen simply as unfortunate individuals who had been disfigured and 

were unable to return to their tribe because of the 

fear of social ridicule. Shame forced them to 

accept their solitary existence, and no amount of 

persuasion would induce them to return home. 

Thus, the scalped man was also a truly historical, 

or real, character in the folklore, as well as the 

spirit being and legendary figure. 

What this paper has shown is that the scalped 

man, who, of course, was originally a real individual, has permeated Arikara and Pawnee folklore, 

continuing as an historical character but evolving 

into an important legendary figure who ultimately was intruding into the mythological 

realm. On the basis of only two recorded myths, 

both presented above, it can be seen that the 

scalped man was not yet a truly mythological 

figure integrated into that period and genre: he 

was merely a legendary figure who had crossed 

over into that realm and had become associated 

with mythical characters. However, in the Pawnee myth that explains why death continues on 

earth, the scalped men are treated as gods, or at 

least as demigods who are intermediaries with the 

celestial gods. Consequently, it seems reasonable 

to conclude that had Pawnee and Arikara folklore 

continued to develop independent of the cultural 

disruption caused by the advance of Western 

culture, the scalped man would have continued 

his apparent evolution into a fully developed 

mythological figure. 
58 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Literature Cited 

Dorsey, George A. 

1904a. Traditions of the Arikara. Washington, D.C: Carnegie Institution of Washington. 

1904b. Traditions of the Skidi Pawnee. Memoirs of the 

American Folk-Lore Society, 8. Boston and New York: 

Houghton, Mifflin, and Company. 

1906. The Pawnee: Mythology {Part I). Washington, D.C: 

Carnegie Institution of Washington. 

Gilmore, Melvin R. 

1933. The Plight of Living Scalped Indians. Papers of the 

Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters, 19:39-

45. 

Grinnell, George Bird 

1910. Coup and Scalp among the Plains Indians. American Anthropologist, 12:296-310. 

Parks, Douglas R., editor 

1977. Caddoan Texts. International Journal of American Linguistics Native American Texts Series, 2(1): 1-128. 

Weltfish, Gene 

1937. Caddoan Texts: Pawnee, South Band Dialect. 

Publications of the American Ethnological Society, 17. 

New York: G.C Stechert. 

1965. The Lost Universe: The Way of Life of the Pawnee. New 

York: Ballantine Books. 
Political Assimilation on the Blackfoot Indian 

Reservation, 1887-1934: A Study in Survival 

Thomas R. Wessel 

ABSTRACT 

The life of Robert Hamilton, Sr., reflects many 

of the sociopolitical changes that occurred on the 

Blackfoot Reservation between 1887 and 1934. 

On 27 March 1934, the Superintendent of the 

Blackfoot Indian Reservation of Montana, Forrest Stone, wrote the Commissioner of Indian 

Affairs seeking aid for Robert Hamilton, Jr., a 

young man suffering from tuberculosis. Stone 

justified the request by reminding the Commissioner that "the father of this boy perhaps did as 

much or more for the Blackfeet tribe of Indians 

than any one single individual in the history of 

the tribe." Robert J. Hamilton, Sr., had not 

always received such praise from the officials of 

the Office of Indian Affairs. During his lifetime 

the government had fired him as a tribal interpreter, arrested him for horse-stealing, jailed him 

as a radical agitator, and had found him generally 

an obstruction to the smooth advance of the 

Blackfeet toward civilization (National Archives 

(NA), 1934). 

Robert J. Hamilton, Sr., personified a transitional generation on the Blackfoot Reservation 

(Figure 7). The generation of Blackfeet that 

reached maturity at the turn of the century was 

the last generation of Native Americans who had 

direct contact with the traditional life of a 

Thomas R. Wessel, Department of History and Philosophy, Montana 

Stale University, Bozeman, Montana 59717. 

mounted hunting culture. They had not, however, reached an age that allowed them to seek 

their place in the tribe by traditional means 

before the old way of life ended. In the twentieth 

century, members of Hamilton's generation 

sought personal advancement and the retention 

of a society that recognized their claims to leadership. In the process, Hamilton and men like 

him were instrumental in transforming a tribal 

society, organized around personal relationships 

and meritorious leaders, into a political community, bound by shared political interests that commanded loyalties to new symbols and identified 

leadership with status. 

Born in the 1870s on the northwestern plains 

of Montana, Hamilton's lifetime spanned one of 

the most trying periods in Indian history. Like 

most Northern Plains tribes, the Blackfeet in the 

late nineteenth century were a loose amalgamation of hunting bands that spent most of the year 

in separate camps. The hunting bands were organized to take best advantage of the Plains 

environment. They remained small enough to 

feed themselves from the buffalo hunt, but large 

enough to afford protection from enemies. The 

existence of several such bands provided for individuals an alternative that relieved tension. 

Dissatisfaction with a band's leadership or discontent with the success of a hunt permitted members 

to abandon one group for another. It was a 

dynamic system characterized by a constant 

grouping and regrouping of families and kin. 

Band leadership was based on individual merit 

gained through skill as a hunter, courage in war. 

59 
60 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

FIGURE 7.—Robert J. Hamilton, Sr., February 1916, Washington, D.C. (BAE neg. 411 Blackfeet, 

Smithsonian Institution, National Anthropological Archives, Bureau of American Ethnology 

Collection) 
NUMBER 30 61 

and daring on horse-stealing raids, as well as a 

display of generosity toward the less successful. 

No leader held real power over the members of 

the band. Social control was a function of the 

entire society. Ridicule and ostracism functioned 

as a principal means of maintaining order. A 

leader retained his position only so long as he 

displayed those characteristics that had propelled 

him to leadership and so long as he correctly read 

the temper of the band. A headman who 

thwarted the desires of his followers would soon 

find himself without anyone to lead. It was an 

efficient fluid society well suited to the Plains 

environment of the mid-nineteenth century. 

In the 1880s, when Robert Hamilton was in his 

early teens, the age when a Blackfoot boy entered 

manhood, the buffalo days came to a sudden end. 

In 1882, the Blackfeet had made a successful 

hunt. In 1883, the hunt had been very poor. In 

1884, the Blackfeet found no buffalo and endured 

a two-year starving time when as many as 25 

percent of the tribe died of malnutrition and 

associated diseases. Dependent on the largess of 

the federal government for bare subsistence, the 

bands huddled near the government agency in 

shock and despair (FRC, 1883; Ewers, 1958:290-

294; McFee, 1972). 

An erosion of traditional tribal society began 

almost at once. The reservation agent's control 

over food supplies struck at the heart of Blackfoot 

pride and independence. Further, the relationship 

of traditional leaders to the federal establishment 

altered their position in the tribe. Rivalries between band leaders, such as Three Suns who 

sought to retain the old way of life and the more 

accommodating White Calf, created social divisions never completely healed. Although the 

Blackfeet had organized a kind of police force 

and established a law code under the direction of 

Agent John Wood as early as 1878, the system 

had supplemented rather than replaced traditional methods of social control. After 1885, federal Indian agents used the older leaders as a 

means of enforcing order on the reservation. The 

elders presided over the distribution of rations 

and acted as judges meting out punishment for 

infractions of reservation rules. With the establishment of courts and judges, social control became institutionalized and divorced from the participation of tribal membership. Individual discipline that in the past could be lax except at 

critical times of the hunt or war no longer was 

tolerated. Leadership, rather than identifying 

merit became frozen without a method of identification for the future (Ewers, 1958:273-274; 

Hagan, 1966). 

As tribal elders, such as Three Suns, died, the 

reservation agent appointed replacements generally from among close relatives of the deceased, 

introducing a hereditary bias to tribal leadership. 

By the turn of the century a number of men 

whose only claim to leadership was the status of 

the position they occupied dominated the tribal 

council. Absence of traditional means of achievement closed avenues of leadership for most of 

Hamilton's generation. So long as some of the 

traditional leaders, such as White Calf, remained 

on the tribal council the appointed members 

possessed a certain amount of immunity. With 

the death of White Calf in 1903, the last of the 

active band leaders, a council that defined leadership by status rather than merit became vulnerable. Men of Hamilton's generation moved to 

challenge the hereditary council and in the process constructed a foundation for the preservation 

of the Blackfoot community. 

Hamilton worked for the next thirty years to 

fill the leadership void left by White Calf and the 

old band leaders. Unable to achieve leadership 

by traditional means, Hamilton perceived the 

change from a meritorious to a status society that 

was already underway on the reservation. He 

sought a new premise for determining leadership 

that brought him to adopt Anglo political methods in an effort to become identified as a spokesman for Blackfoot interests and to attract a constituency. With status alone as the measure of 

leadership, Hamilton saw no reason why he could 

not assert his own claim, and he persistently 

strove to restore a measure of autonomy for the 

Blackfeet and to forge a modern economy on the 

reservation. His adaptiveness often appeared opportunistic, although his expediency was more 

often than not designed to achieve a larger goal 
62 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

of Blackfoot self-determination. At times his actions advanced his own personal fortunes as much 

as the collective welfare of the submerged tribe. 

Doubtless, in his own mind the two objectives 

were one. 

Although Hamilton accommodated his own 

identity to meet the changing demographic nature of the reservation, he rarely sublimated himself to the whims of the White world. His behavior, often erratic and inexplicable, was consistently assertive in so far as encouraging political 

activism among the Blackfeet. Hamilton's actions 

frequently brought federal reprisals. While the 

federal government through its reservation agents 

sought the destruction of Blackfoot culture and 

tribal society, the establishment of a Jeffersonian 

yoeman economy, and the political docility of the 

Blackfeet, Hamilton defended the tribe's cultural 

heritage while attempting to accommodate to 

twentieth-century economic realities. More importantly, he tried to weld the Blackfeet together 

with a new sense of community based on shared 

political aspiration as well as pride in a common 

ethnic heritage. That he did not and possibly 

could not find a mechanism to fulfill his aim of 

preserving the past while living in a radically 

altered present did not diminish the substantial 

character of his achievement. 

Details of Hamilton's early life are uncertain. 

He was probably of mixed blood parentage, although that is not well established. In 1902 Hamilton claimed to be a full blood Indian, whose 

parents had died in his infancy. A.B. Hamilton, 

a local trader, adopted him, changed his name 

from Bobtail to Robert, and gave him his own 

surname. In 1920, however, Hamilton indicated 

that A.B. Hamilton was his natural father and 

that his Blackfoot mother died in childbirth. The 

confusion as to Hamilton's birth may provide 

some insight into his character. In the first two 

decades of the twentieth century Blackfoot demography changed dramatically. At the turn of 

the century the Blackfoot population was dominated by full bloods; by 1920 they constituted 

barely one-fourth of the enrolled membership. 

Although Hamilton may have simply been expedient, he more likely reacted under the stress of 

alienation felt by many of his generation who had 

neither a commitment to the old ways nor a firm 

perception of the future. Neither full blood by 

birth nor mixed blood by temperament, he strove 

to be both (Anonymous, 1902:1570; Stout, 1921: 

1206; NA, 1915c). 

Raised in the household of a White Indiantrader and educated at Carlisle Indian School 

where he graduated in 1896, Hamilton doubtless 

was confused about his own ethnic heritage. Consequently, in finding his place on the Blackfoot 

Reservation at the turn of the century he appealed to emotion rather than biology. The conflict in his own background propelled him to seek 

identification in the political arena rather than in 

a society still clinging to a way of life that could 

not survive. 

Returning to the reservation after his graduation, Hamilton began a conventional career for a 

young man with a prominent local sponsor. He 

married a full blood Blackfoot girl in 1898 and 

took a job as a clerk in the store of another trader, 

E.T. Broadwater. While working in the Broadwater store he also acted as an interpreter for the 

reservation agent. That experience may have first 

turned him to political activism. Certainly for the 

first time it brought him into close contact with 

his people and gave him a unique vantage point 

from which to observe the nearly complete control 

that reservation agents then exercised. Hamilton 

also discovered that he enjoyed being at the center 

of power. 

Hamilton's tenure as tribal interpreter was 

short-lived. He used his position to convince the 

agent of the need for a building to house a 

Blackfoot literary society where young men of his 

age could learn English and read American literature. Agent Thomas Fuller applauded the idea 

and soon gave his permission, only to learn that 

the building was a gathering place for training 

young men in the Sun Dance and for older men 

to pass down oral traditions. Hamilton had not 

been entirely deceitful. He intended to combine 

instruction in English with the preservation of 

Blackfoot traditions, which he wished to learn 

himself He also used the occasion to rally support 

against an appointed tribal council. In any event, 
NUMBER 30 63 

the incident led to his firing as an interpreter, but 

it also marked him as a spokesman for the Blackfeet (Federal Records Center (FRC), 1898). 

White Calf in death gave Hamilton an opportunity to assert his claim to leadership. Along 

with several other tribal members, Hamilton requested a meeting room from newly arrived 

Agent James Monteath shortly after the chief 

died. Monteath obliged but was appalled when 

the assembled Blackfeet announced that they 

were the newly elected Blackfoot Council and 

informed the agent that they were ready to take 

over much of the administrative duties of the 

agency office. The outraged agent refused to recognize any such election and insisted that the 

council remain an appointed body that would 

meet only at his call. Most agents probably would 

have preferred to do without a tribal council at 

all, but legal requirements of tribal approval of 

grazing leases on the reservation necessitated the 

existence of some such organization. An elected 

council, however, was more than the agent and 

some Blackfeet would tolerate (Monteath, 1903a). 

Agent Monteath prevailed, but his strong denunciation of the action and particularly of Hamilton tended to increase his adversary's visibility. 

Over the next two years, Hamilton used every 

opportunity to challenge the tribal council. He 

attended every meeting questioning the council's right to conduct Blackfoot business. He denounced a government program that resulted in 

cutting the ration roll on the reservation and 

protested a plan by Agent Monteath to separate 

the full-blooded members of the tribe and place 

them in a subsistence farming program isolated 

from the centers of the Blackfoot population. 

In 1905, an exasperated Agent Monteath tried 

to silence his outspoken critic by having Hamilton 

arrested for horse stealing. That year Hamilton's 

foster father, A.B. Hamilton, died. Hamilton took 

possession of the older Hamilton's horses. Other 

members of the tribe and some White traders 

made a claim for the horses; since Hamilton had 

nothing to prove his own right to the animals. 

Agent Monteath saw an opportunity to confine 

his adversary in the agency jail. No trial was ever 

held over the incident, and many Blackfeet were 

ready to believe that Hamilton was in jail for his 

political activity rather than for a dispute over 

the ownership of some horses. Ironically, the 

horse-stealing charge probably enhanced Hamilton's standing among the full-bloods. Particularly 

among the older members of the tribe, horse 

stealing kindled fond memories of a happier day. 

In any event, after sitting in the reservation jail 

for a few weeks, Hamilton was released after the 

charges were dropped. (NA, 1902a; 1915c). 

Possibly fearing for his safety, Hamilton left 

the reservation for the next two years to work in 

the law office of a former agent, Mark Baldwin. 

Congressional passage of an allotment act for the 

Blackfeet in 1907 brought him home. Once again 

he took up the cause of an elected council, pointing out that allotment endangered the very existence of the tribe. He insisted that an unrepresentative council could not be expected to protect 

Blackfoot interests. His persistent challenge to the 

authority of the council and the reservation agent 

led to his jailing once again. In 1910, another new 

agent, C.H. Churchill, without pretense for his 

action, made allegations of criminal activity 

against Hamilton and declared him a menace to 

Blackfoot social order. Churchill later suggested 

that Hamilton's efforts to gain enrollment for 

absentee Blackfeet, for which he charged a fee, 

had prompted the agent's action. Whatever the 

reason, Hamilton remained in the reservation jail 

until the arrival of still another federal official 

several months later. 

Superintendent Arthur McFatridge, the first 

nonpatronage appointee on the Blackfoot Reservation, released Hamilton from confinement. 

McFatridge's appointment resulted from efforts 

to remove reservation agents from the patronage 

system. Past proposals to cover agents under Civil 

Service regulations failed to gain Congressional 

approval. Beginning in 1906, President Theodore 

Roosevelt introduced the expedient of not appointing agents to Indian reservations; instead he 

placed the reservations under the authority of 

government school superintendents who were 

subject to Civil Service selection. Superintendents 

were generally highly critical of their political 

predecessors and made some effort to ingratiate 
64 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

themselves with the tribe. Finding the new government official in a cooperative spirit, Hamilton 

solicited his support for an elected tribal council. 

McFatridge refused to endorse an elected council, 

but was willing to employ a device becoming 

common on other reservations. He agreed to the 

election of a "business committee" to deal with 

the specific questions of tribal enrollment and the 

approval of leasing arrangements on the reservation. The business committee on most reservations was usually a small body of five or ten tribal 

members. With allotment well underway on 

many reservations, including the Blackfoot, a 

smaller business committee seemed more efficient 

than calling together the tribal council of 40 to 

50 members or as on some reservations, the entire 

adult male population. Accordingly, the larger 

tribal council was assembled primarily for major 

issues, such as informing the Blackfeet of changes 

in government policy (FRC, 1912). 

Hamilton had little difficulty getting himself 

elected to the business committee, thanks to his 

earlier efforts to identify himself as a Blackfoot 

spokesman. He quickly dominated the business 

committee and pushed it to consider all questions 

of interest to the Blackfeet. He used the meetings 

as a forum to discuss the administration of the 

Blackfoot cattle industry and to resurrect a longstanding Blackfoot claim for compensation for 

land lost in the nineteenth century. When questioned about the committee's authority to deal 

with such matters, he replied that it was simply providing advisory recommendations (FRC, 

1910; NA, 1970). 

Over the next several years, Hamilton continued to expand the business committee's agenda. 

He used the committee as a forum to turn the 

Blackfeet from a fragmented tribe, frequently at 

war with itself, to an issue oriented, politically 

minded community. He saw the business committee as a place to resolve Blackfoot differences 

and as a symbol to attract Blackfoot loyalty. 

Membership on the committee also gave him a 

cloak of legitimacy to pursue Blackfoot interests 

outside the normal channels through the Office 

of Indian Affairs. On six occasions between 1912 

and 1919, Hamilton travelled to Washington, 

D.C, where he established contact with sympathetic Congressmen and eastern philanthropists 

(FRC, 1914; NA, 1917a). 

Typical of his activities was his testimony before a Senate committee in 1914 alleging that 149 

Blackfeet had starved on the reservation the previous winter. The charges, to say the least, were 

exaggerated. Many of those listed had died of 

natural causes unrelated to malnutrition, while 

over half were still alive ten years later. The 

allegations, however, sufficiently impressed Senator Mark Lane of Oregon, who repeated them 

on the Senate floor. Hamilton in later years was 

not above quoting his own charges from the 

Congressional Record as the authority for his claim. 

Nevertheless, Hamilton succeeded in drawing attention to what were undeniably deplorable conditions on the reservation. A subsequent investigation failed to sustain allegations of starvation 

among the Blackfeet, but it did, for unrelated 

reasons, lead to the removal of Superintendent 

McFatridge. Hamilton's initiative in prompting 

the investigation left the impression among the 

Blackfeet that he exercised real power, even to 

the extent of removing a superintendent. He 

quickly took advantage of that impression to 

further escalate the business committee's activities (NA, 1915c; 1922b). 

A recurrent issue on the reservation involved a 

claim arising from land the Blackfeet lost in 1874. 

That year, through a Presidential order, a large 

section of the reservation was opened to White 

settlement. The Blackfeet never received payment 

for the land lost; at the time, however, they had 

given the loss little notice, since they had ceased 

using the area as a hunting ground. From time to 

time over the next several decades the Blackfeet 

requested that the Office of Indian Affairs press 

their claim in Washington, but to no avail. Hamilton made it a central theme of the business 

committee. The issue appealed to all elements of 

the tribe and furthered his own career as a tribal 

leader. In 1919, he gained permission to hire a 

Washington, D.C, law firm to obtain Congressional sanction for a suit before the U.S. Court of 

Claims. Five years later. Congress passed the 

necessary sanction enabling legislation. Finally 
NUMBER 30 65 

after years of litigation and three years after 

Hamilton's death in 1932, the Court of Claims 

sustained the Blackfoot claim (NA, 1920a; 

1936a). 

Until 1919, Hamilton and the business committee devoted most of their energies toward 

attempting to preserve all of the Blackfoot Reservation for the benefit of the Blackfoot people. In 

1907, Congress passed an allotment act for the 

Blackfeet. It was a common practice for Congress 

to pass special allotment acts taking into consideration the particular conditions of the reservation and requiring only general adherence to the 

General Allotment Act of 1887. Under the terms 

of the 1907 Act each Blackfoot tribal member 

enrolled before 30 June 1911 was to select an 

allotment of 320 acres, either all in grazing land 

or divided between 280 acres of grazing land and 

40 acres of irrigated land. Any land remaining 

after allotment was to be classified and opened 

by Presidential proclamation to settlement under 

the various entry laws of the United States. On 

the Blackfoot Reservation nearly one-half of the 

land was potentially available for entry after 

allotment. 

For various technical reasons the Office of Indian Affairs did not submit the Blackfoot allotment schedule for approval by the Secretary of 

the Interior until 1917. During the preceding 

five years, Hamilton had worked assiduously to 

change the nature of the allotments and to keep 

the "surplus" land from entry. On one occasion 

he completely defied his own business committee 

when a majority had been persuaded to support 

Montana Senator Thomas Walsh's bill allowing 

early entry on a portion of the surplus land. 

Hamilton had gone to Washington as part of a 

delegation committed to supporting the bill but 

testified against it instead. It was a measure of his 

confidence that he thought he could reverse his 

instructions and still retain his position on the 

business committee. His judgment proved accurate. The disclosure that part of the reservation 

might contain oil and gas soon brought the business committee around to Hamilton's position. 

The possibility of mineral wealth on the reservation also suggested a means of preserving the 

tribal government and retarding the intent of the 

1907 Blackfoot Allotment Act, which did not 

provide for the disposal of mineral land apart 

from general allotment (34 Stat. 1015; NA, 1916c; 

1919c). The question arose whether minerals 

found beneath land already selected could be 

preserved to the tribe before the selections were 

approved. Additionally, a decision became necessary as to the disposition of potential mineral 

wealth beneath land not allotted. Hamilton 

seized upon the possibility that oil existed on the 

reservation and demanded that all mineral rights 

on the reservation remain a tribal asset. With a 

tribal asset of undetermined duration the perpetuation of tribal governments was assured for 

the immediate future (NA, 1917b). 

Hamilton attacked the problem on two fronts. 

Without authority, he invited Standard Oil of 

New Jersey and other companies to negotiate 

leases on the reservation. The specific terms of 

Hamilton's proposal to the companies is unknown, but their positive response became ammunition in his lobbying effort with the Indian 

office and Congress. Between 1915 and 1917, 

Congress considered several bills to alter the rights 

of individual Blackfeet to the minerals underlying 

their selections. None of the proposals received 

Congressional approval, and in 1917 the Department of the Interior approved the Blackfeet Allotment Schedule with mineral rights vested in 

the individual. The debate, however, inclined 

Congress to reconsider the disposition of surplus 

reservation land. Hamilton and the business committee had petitioned the Office of Indian Affairs 

and the Congress to add "too late babies" to the 

enrollment list and make them eligible for allotments. Congress had passed such second round 

allotment acts before and generally agreed to 

such requests. The Indian Office, however, usually resisted such efforts, preferring to keep a 

complicated process as simple as possible. In 1919, 

with the evidence of oil and gas deposits on the 

reservation mounting, Congress passed a second 

allotment act ordering allotments for Blackfeet 

born after 1 July 1911, but reserving subsoil rights 

to the tribe. While such an act did not guarantee 

the future of the tribe, it acted to delay the time 
66 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

when Congress might order the termination of 

Blackfeet local government (H.R. 1916, S, 1914; 

S, 1917; S, 1918; NA 1916b; 41 Stat. 3). 

Hamilton's success in helping obtain a second 

round of allotments for the Blackfeet was tempered by a personal set-back in 1919. Hamilton's 

prominence on the reservation and the legal background he acquired while working with Mark 

Baldwin had, years before, led to his appointment 

as a United States commissioner. The appointment lasted but one year, when it was discovered 

that Hamilton was accepting fees for his work. 

United States commissioners were salaried officials. Although Hamilton's fees were illegal, it 

was apparently done without fraudulent intent. 

He had never drawn his salary as commissioner 

and apparently thought his income from the 

office was derived from fees similar to the system 

used for clerks in federal courts. In 1919, a jury 

found him innocent of wrong doing, but he lost 

his position as commissioner (FRC, 1919). 

Far more detrimental to the well-being of the 

Blackfeet was the consequence of the European 

war and postwar economic dislocation on the 

reservation's cattle industry. Authorities had long 

recognized that the Blackfoot Reservation was 

primarily suited to cattle and sheep grazing. The 

Allotment Act of 1907 had recognized the reservation's limitations for crop agriculture when 

alloting the principal part of it for grazing. Since 

the mid-1890s the federal government, using 

Blackfoot funds acquired from land sales, distributed cattle to adult tribal members. By 1910, the 

Blackfoot cattle herds through further distributions and natural increase were large enough to 

predict a reasonable level of success for the enterprise. A series of drought years and severe winters 

between 1900 and 1908 retarded the development 

of the industry, but sufficient stock remained to 

ensure recovery. The development of irrigated 

hay fields appeared to solve the problem of winter 

feed. 

The government cattle program, however, had 

the effect of enriching a few Blackfeet while most 

languished. Full-blood members of the tribe continued to take more pride in their horse herds 

than in cattle. Mixed bloods found it relatively 

easy to barter Indian ponies for cattle. Consequently, Blackfoot cattle tended to end up in the 

hands of a few aggressive entrepreneurs. As early 

as 1902, only 47 Blackfeet had substantial cattle 

herds. The Office of Indian Affairs wa.s aware of 

the monopolizing process on the reservation and 

acted to reverse the trend (NA, 1903). 

The cattle question on the Blackfoot Reservation placed the government in a dilemma. The 

government tried to foster both the tribe's collective economic advancement and self-enterprise 

among individual members. The more ambitious, 

however, by their very aggressiveness, tended to 

defeat the government's effort to raise the general 

level of economic self-sufficiency. In a sense, the 

government was too successful in introducing 

capitalism to the Blackfeet, and it never solved 

the problem of reconciling an economic system 

based on creating winners and losers with a commitment to preventing losses. The reality that not 

every Blackfoot tribal member could be a successful entrepreneur did not mesh with government programs. Furthermore, intervention ensured discontent from every faction on the reservation. 

The problem was further compounded by increasing pressure on the Office of Indian Affairs 

to establish grazing leases for outside cattlemen. 

Nearby ranchers had already found they could 

make individual arrangements with Blackfoot 

tribal members and bring their cattle onto the 

reservation. A grazing lease system was required 

to bring the problem of trespass cattle under 

control. Until the Blackfeet enlarged their cattle 

herds sufficiently to use the entire reservation, 

leasing to outside cattlemen appeared a reasonable method to increase Blackfoot income. At the 

same time the government was reluctant to tie up 

large amounts of reservation land in leases that 

might soon be allotted. Consequently, the government instituted a "permit system" on the reservation rather than a lease system. The permit 

system had the added advantage from the agent's 

point of view of not requiring approval from the 

tribal council. 

Although the permit system had been instituted while Hamilton was away from the reser-
NUMBER 30 67 

vation and before the establishment of a business 

committee, it became a central issue in his campaign to secure more authority for the tribe over 

its own future. Objections to the permit system 

also gained Hamilton support from both full 

bloods and mixed bloods. The permit system 

established a fee of $1.00 a head for a fixed 

number of cattle to range without restriction on 

the Blackfoot Reservation. For the Blackfeet the 

government imposed the same fee for number of 

cattle in excess of one hundred head. Mixed 

bloods with large cattle herds protested paying 

any fee. Full bloods were equally resentful since 

the fee restricted their ability to trade cattle for 

horses. What the government had viewed as an 

insidious process of monopolization was viewed 

quite differently by the Blackfeet. Full bloods 

took little umbrage with their mixed blood relatives' penchant for acquiring cattle so long as it 

allowed them to continue a life-style they cherished above the ownership of beef cattle. Hamilton understood the full blood's attachment to an 

older pace of life and resented the government's 

interference (NA, 1902b, 1904a, 1904b; 1904c). 

With little ability to monitor the system, the 

government program had little practical effect. 

Full bloods and mixed bloods simply evaded the 

regulations. Later, in 1908, the Office of Indian 

Affairs modified the permit system charging a fee 

to the Blackfeet only for cattle that were not part 

of the government's distribution program. Cattle 

carrying the Interior Department ID brand were 

not charged, while "straight" cattle were charged 

a fee for any number. The new program encouraged Blackfeet with large herds to brand all of 

their cattle with the ID brand, thus escaping the 

fee. Branding cattle with the ID brand, however, 

also reduced their ability to sell the cattle since 

ID cattle could be sold only with the agent's 

permission (FRC, 1908). 

Hamilton had little difficulty organizing general resistance to the government's program and 

in uniting mixed bloods and full bloods in the 

effort. By 1915, the general evasion of the program forced the government to return to a leasing 

system. With World War I already in progress in 

Europe the market price for cattle increased, and 

the return of drought reduced the Blackfeet cattle 

industry to only a few thousand head. Pressure 

by the cattle owners on agents to approve cattle 

sales proved irresistable when prices went over 

$15.00 a hundredweight. Inevitably, the first to 

sell their cattle were the full bloods (NA, 1915a, 

1915b, 1915c). 

To meet the situation the government changed 

the cattle program once again. In 1915, with a 

modest beginning, the Office of Indian Affairs 

established a tribal cattle herd as a means of 

teaching the full bloods the skills of cattle raising 

and to provide them with a market for their hay. 

The program was no more successful than earlier 

efforts in agricultural training. Mixed-blood cattlemen protested that tribal resources were denied 

them because the tribal herd used the best grazing 

land. They demanded that the government distribute the herd on a per capita basis. Such a 

program nearly ensured that the cattle would 

ultimately become property of a few mixed 

bloods. Drought and the break in cattle prices 

after World War I ended the debate. By 1920 the 

government had sold the herd to reduce costs and 

the Blackfeet found themselves in their worst 

economic distress since the 1880s (NA, 1916a, 

1919a, 1919b, 1920b). 

The destruction of the Blackfoot cattle industry 

during the war and postwar years, coupled with 

the end of Blackfoot funds from earlier land sales, 

left most of the tribe destitute. Few had improved 

their allotments sufficiently to farm, and fewer 

had the resources to reestablish themselves in the 

cattle business. At its lowest point in forty years 

and a decade away from a time when income 

from mineral resources would partially alleviate 

conditions on the reservation, Fred C Campbell 

arrived as the new superintendent. In Campbell, 

Hamilton faced his greatest challenge for tribal 

leadership (Wessel, 1979). 

Campbell was an ambitious, imposing figure, 

who put his personal stamp on the reservation in 

the first months of his administration. He quickly 

gained an understanding of the reservation's 

problems. With the limited resources of the reservation, Campbell decided to concentrate building 

a subsistence level under the most destitute mem-
68 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

bers of the tribe, the full bloods. In the first weeks 

of his administration, he visited every family on 

the reservation, making notes of specific needs 

and the family's resources. Over the next few 

months he developed a program to encourage full 

bloods, and any mixed blood who would join 

him, to begin utilizing the allotments. His idea 

was to break the psychological depression that 

gripped the reservation and encourage full bloods 

to begin some modest efforts in farming. Campbell never said what he thought the result of his 

program was to be, but in design its success meant 

developing a series of subsistence farm communities. He further instilled a sense of pride in the 

full bloods by acquiescing in their desire to gather 

for summer ceremonials. He compromised with 

the full bloods and gained their agreement to 

move the Sun Dance to a part of the summer 

when it did not interfere with necessary farm 

work. His sensitivity to the Blackfeet's deeply felt 

need to maintain continuity with their past 

through practice of traditional ceremonials 

quickly endeared him to the full blood community. It also presented a significant challenge to 

Robert Hamilton and the business committee, 

which for all practical purposes by 1920 acted as 

the tribal council. Hamilton had worked, for the 

preceding decade, to create a sense of community 

on the reservation, with the business committee 

as the forum where individual differences could 

be compromised into tribal positions. Campbell's 

success, while laudable in the short run, endangered that development and appeared a step back 

toward reliance on the federal government (NA, 

1921a, 1922a). 

The conflict that developed between these two 

strong-willed individuals was probably inevitable. Hamilton's opposition to Campbell's plan, 

however, was not based entirely on competition 

for leadership, but a genuine concern for the 

future of the reservation. Campbell's program, if 

generally employed on the reservation, would 

have had the effect of perpetually isolating the 

local economy from the general agricultural economy of the region. He was not interested in 

developing commercial agriculture, but expended 

his energies on establishing diversified agriculture 

that looked toward self-sufficiency. It was an idea 

that had had some appeal in the frontier conditions of the nineteenth century, but could hardly 

anticipate economic advancement in the integrated national economy of the twentieth century. 

Campbell's method of implementing his program was even more disturbing for Hamilton. 

The superintendent established a series of regional farm chapters on the reservation. The farm 

chapters organized the farming efforts of the full 

bloods and acted as cooperatives for equipment 

purchases. They also became local political clubs, 

where tribal members discussed general questions 

of reservation policy and arrived at decisions. 

Hamilton chafed under Campbell's domination of the farm chapters and the diminished role 

of the business committee (NA, 1922c, 1924a, 

1924b). 

Campbell had also moved to regularize the 

election of council members and established election districts along the same lines as the regional 

farm chapters. His influence with the farm chapters undoubtedly gave him some control over the 

election of council members. Since the council's 

authority was restricted principally to matters of 

tribal enrollment and approving leases, Hamilton 

found that real decisions about the use of tribal 

resources tended to drift away from the council 

and to Campbell's farm chapters. It also meant 

that tribal resources that might have been used 

to develop the mineral potential of the reservation 

were diverted to the subsistence agricultural program. 

Through Hamilton's urging, the tribal council 

had pressured the Department of the Interior to 

approve the first oil and gas lease on the reservation in 1922, which went to Louis Hill of the 

Great Northern Railroad. The Hill lease had 

been loosely written and resulted in little exploration. Hamilton urged that the Blackfeet with 

the aid of the Geological Survey conduct its own 

exploration, while the Department of the Interior 

pressed for outside leases with such restrictions 

that no company was willing to engage in the 

effort. Another decade passed before oil discoveries of a commercial nature brought some relief 
NUMBER 30 69 

to the financially distressed Blackfeet. In the 

meantime, Hamilton moved to challenge directly 

Campbell's authority on the reservation (NA, 

1921b, 1921c; U.S. Senate, 1932:12768-12774). 

Biennial elections gave both Campbell and 

Hamilton a platform from which to air grievances. Campbell proved Hamilton right when 

Campbell directly intervened in elections to assure that Blackfeet sympathetic to his development program were elected to council positions. 

In 1924, when Hamilton failed to gain a council 

seat for the first time in over ten years, he immediately laid plans to wrest the council from 

Campbell's supporters. In the process it forced 

Hamilton to make a choice that he had avoided 

in the past. Since Campbell's influence rested 

primarily with the full blood population of the 

reservation, Hamilton made an overt appeal to 

disgruntled mixed bloods and consequently exposed a factional split in the tribe that had always 

been near the surface (NA, 1924a). 

In 1926 his effort brought success. Once again 

Hamilton was on the tribal council with a majority supporting him. Unsatisfied with regaining 

control of the council, Hamilton proceeded to use 

it as a means of dismissing Campbell from his 

position as superintendent. In the election of 1926 

Hamilton had allied himself with State Senator 

Frank McCabe, a shadowy figure on the reservation who was often accused of using his influence with tribal members to secure their allotments (NA, 1926a, 1926b). 

Government policy since 1917 had allowed 

individual allottees to request an early end to the 

trust period established under the allotment acts. 

Generally, an allottee could not sell or encumber 

his allotment until after a 25-year trust period 

had expired. The administration of thousands of 

trust patents, however, proved such a burden to 

the overworked Office of Indian Affairs that a 

request for a fee simple patent from an allottee 

was usually approved. Some authorities were suspicious that McCabe was bribing allottees to 

request fee patents and then buying their land. 

Many full bloods who had not become accustomed to working their allotments were easily 

persuaded to ask for fee patents. Campbell accused McCabe of fraudulently acquiring land 

from full bloods and obtained a federal indictment of the State Senator. Although a jury acquitted McCabe of wrong doing, Campbell made 

an issue of his friendship with Hamilton (NA, 

1919c, 1926a, 1926b, 1926c, 1926d). 

At the first meeting of the 1926 Council, Hamilton as the presiding officer inappropriately 

turned the meeting over to McCabe. McCabe 

forced a resolution out of the council condemning 

Campbell, and, acting beyond the council's authority, dismissed him from office. The Office of 

Indian Affairs refused to recognize the council's 

action and sent an investigator to the reservation. 

The investigation proved that the charges against 

Campbell had little substance and resulted in the 

Indian Office refusing to further deal with the 

tribal council. For several years the council had 

met on a regular basis, but after 1926 the Office 

of Indian Affairs insisted that it meet only at the 

call of the superintendent. Hamilton had apparently hoped that his extreme action would lead 

to an airing of the differences between his ideas 

for the reservation's future and Campbell's, but 

the investigator chose not to deal with substantive 

questions of reservation policy. By 1928, carrying 

the scars of two decades of political war with the 

Office of Indian Affairs and reservation agents, 

Hamilton refused to run for a council seat (NA, 

1926c, 1926d). 

Ironically, by 1928 Campbell had become convinced that the future of the reservation depended 

on the development of cattle and sheep grazing, 

a position that Hamilton had taken from the 

beginning. The allotment of the reservation into 

over 3,000 separate units, however, made it difficult to establish grazing on an economical basis. 

To assure adequate range, hundreds of leases 

were executed each year with individual allottees. 

Failure to secure even one lease could exclude 

several hundred acres from use in the middle of 

a grazing range and make it virtually unusable. 

The problem of multiple tenures interfering with 

efficient range management was not a problem 

restricted to Indian reservations. The difficulty 

existed throughout the State of Montana, where 

land within natural grazing ranges might contain 
70 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

several private patents along with federally 

owned and state-owned land. In 1928, a group of 

ranchers in southeastern Montana established the 

first grazing district in the nation. Through enabling legislation from both the state and Congress, a local board received permission to organize use of the range containing multiple tenures. 

The method became the basis for the Taylor 

Grazing Act of 1934 (Schlebecker, 1963:114-115; 

NA, 1932, 1936b). 

In 1928 as well, the Office of Indian Affairs 

created an Agricultural Extension Service for Indian reservations. One of the service's first efforts 

was to use the experience in Montana to rationalize grazing on Indian reservations. Indian Office officials attempted to gain powers of attorney 

from individual allottees and create the kind of 

local grazing districts that proved successful in 

southeastern Montana. The program brought 

Robert Hamilton out of retirement. Hamilton 

was not opposed to the idea, but he saw the 

Indian Office's exercise of power of attorney as 

further eroding what little authority remained to 

the tribal council. He would have probably supported the effort if the council exercised the power 

of attorney, but he could not favor surrendering 

any additional power to the Office of Indian 

Affairs (NA, 1932). 

Hamilton resisted the government's program 

and convinced enough allottees to refuse the Indian Office's request for powers of attorney. The 

Office of Indian Affairs, which met similar opposition on other reservations, called for a conference in 1932 in Washington to resolve the dispute. 

The Blackfeet elected Robert Hamilton as their 

representative. The old political fighter, perhaps 

mellowed with age, indicated that he would act 

as a statesman. Although still adamantly opposed 

to approving the Indian Office exercise of powers 

of attorney, he suggested a legal document that 

gave the Indian Office the same authority in fact 

but not in name. It was perhaps a symbolic 

gesture and it was his last contribution to Blackfoot welfare. After a short illness and before he 

could attend the national grazing conference, 

Hamilton died. He might have been gratified to 

know that the Indian Office adopted his method 

of obtaining permission to organize grazing districts on the Blackfoot Reservation (NA, 1939). 

In any context outside of an Indian reservation, 

Robert Hamilton would have been known as a 

politician. In his long struggle to gain for the 

Blackfeet a measure of home rule, the Office of 

Indian Affairs described him as a radical agitator, 

a horse thief, and a malcontent, but never as a 

politician. Unlike many of his followers, Hamilton was capable of making his way in White 

society. On three occasions in his life he left the 

reservation but always returned. The reservation 

was his forum and the place where he could be 

an Indian. He was instrumental in creating on 

the Blackfoot Reservation a community based on 

shared political aspirations, while maintaining a 

spiritual link with the past. He helped educate 

his people to use the political process and the 

federal courts to establish Blackfoot legal rights. 

He tried, perhaps without success, to find the 

institutional means to preserve the essence of 

Blackfoot culture in the midst of a twentiethcentury reality. During Hamilton's lifetime, the 

Blackfeet changed from a nomadic people dominated by war and the hunt to a people identified 

with a new sense of community. His was of the 

last generation that could bridge the gulf between 

the traditional and the future. When the Blackfeet gained a degree of autonomy through the 

Indian Reorganization Act of 1934, they owed 

much of their ability to exercise that autonomy 

and press for further rights of self-determination 

to Robert Hamilton. 

Literature Cited 

Anonymous 

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Ewers, John C 

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Hagan William T. 

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McFee, Malcolm 

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York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. 

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Monteath, 15 January 1902. File 4027, Record 

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Interior, 9 September 1904. File 9668, Record 

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13465-16-054, Record Group 75. 

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17-054, Record Group 75. 

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Group 48: Records of the Secretary of the Interior. 

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Robert J. Hamilton, n.d. File 6396-36-720, Record 

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Secretary of the Interior, 15 July 1921. File 52595-

24-322, Record Group 75. 

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the Interior, 15 April 1921. File 52595-24-322, 

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Indian Affairs, 20 April 1922. File 28948-21-255, 

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M. I. McCreight, 4 March 1922. File 1435-22-054, 

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File 14321-22-054, Record Group 75. 

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72 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1926a. Letter from Fred C Campbell to Commissioner of 

Indian Affairs, 20 January 1926. File 1592-26-054, 

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Indian Affairs, 27 January 1926. File 1592-26-054, 

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26-054, Record Group 75. 

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Indian Affairs, 27 March 1934. File 15500-34-737, 

Record Group 75. 

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720, Record Group 75. 

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Record Group 75. 

1939. Narrative Report. Blackfeet File (Fiscal), Record 

Group 75. 

Schlebecker, John T. 

1963. Cattle Raising on the Plains, 1900-1961. Lincoln, 

Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press. 

Stout, Tom 

1921. Montana: Its Story and Biography, III. Chicago and 

New York: The American Historical Society. 

United States, House of Representatives (H.R.) 

1916. H.R. 14732: "A Bill Modifying and Amending the 

Act of March 1, 1907, as Relates to the Disposition 

of Surplus Lands of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation in Montana and for Other Purposes." 

United States, Senate (S) 

1914. S. 5484: "A Bill Modifying and Amending the Act 

of March 1, 1907." 

1917. S. 5612: "A Bill Modifying and Amending the Act 

of March 1, 1907." 

1918. Senate Report 451, 65th Congress, 2nd Session. 

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Conditions of Indians in the United States, part 

23:12768-12774. Washington, D.C. 

United States, Statutes at Large 

1907. 34 Stat. 1015, Blackfeet Allotment Act of 1907, 

59th Congress, 2nd Session. 

1919. 41 Stat. 3, 66th Congress, 1st Session. 

Wessel, Thomas 

1979. Agriculture on the Reservations: The Case of the 

Blackfeet, 1885-1935. Journal of the West, 18 

(October): 17-24. 
"Look at My Hair, It is Gray": 

Age Grading, Ritual Authority, and Political Change 

among the Northern Arapahoes and Gros Ventres 

Loretta Fowler 

ABSTRACT 

The pre-1934 political developments among the 

Gros Ventres of Montana and Northern Arapahoes of Wyoming are compared to elucidate the 

differing ways in which they responded to the 

major political reorganization imposed upon 

them. The divergent patterns of response reflect 

differences between the tribes' age grade systems 

in interplay with differing contact experiences. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—My fieldwork and ethnohistorical research on the Northern Arapahoes 

was supported primarily by a Doris Duke grant 

in 1969-1970, a grant from the Faculty Research 

Foundation of CUNY in 1974-1975, a postdoctoral fellowship from the Smithsonian Institution 

in 1976-1977, and a postdoctoral fellowship from 

the Center for the History of the American Indian, Newberry Library, in 1977-1978. My fieldwork and ethnohistorical research on the Gros 

Ventres was supported by the American Philosophical Society in 1979 and by a grant from the 

National Institute on Aging in 1980. 

Introduction 

When the Northern Arapahoes of Wind River 

Reservation in Wyoming and the Gros Ventres 

Loretta Fowler, Department of Anthropology, City College of the City 

University of New York, Convent Avenue and 138th Street, New 

York, New York 10031. 

of Fort Belknap Reservation in Montana meet at 

intertribal celebrations, they delight in the fact 

that their dialects are mutually intelligible and 

that they can often identify common ancestors. 

But they may just as often remark on the apparent differences in contemporary Gros Ventre and 

Arapahoe ethos; for example, native political 

leaders point to the contrasts in tribal politics. 

Reservation superintendents also have indicated 

that there was a basic contrast between Arapahoe 

and Gros Ventre political behavior during the 

twentieth century. By the time tribal government 

was reorganized under the provisions of the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934, the Gros 

Ventres are viewed to have replaced traditional 

political culture with Western representative democracy. Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) officials 

attributed the change to extensive intermarriage 

with Whites (Berry, 1973). On the other hand, 

Arapahoes are portrayed as a people anxious to 

"modernize" politically but unable to learn new 

ways (Elkin, 1940). Differences between Gros 

Ventres and Arapahoes offer the Plains scholar 

an excellent opportunity for controlled comparison, for these two peoples are of common origin 

and once lived in much the same manner. However, the observations of BIA personnel do not 

explain adequately how and why the two tribes 

differ politically. While it is apparent that by the 

1930s clearcut differences existed between Gros 

Ventre and Arapahoe political cultures, the differences cannot be identified and understood in 

terms of differential cultural or biological assim73 
74 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ilation. This paper compares Northern Arapahoe 

and Gros Ventre political reorganizations prior to 

1934 and suggests that the contrasts are a product 

of differences between the tribes' age grade systems in interplay with differing contact experiences. 

Efforts at political "modernization" (that is, 

elective, representative democracy) preceded the 

Indian Reorganization Act by some thirty years, 

although these early councils were portrayed as 

ineffective by BIA personnel and social scientists 

alike. Students of Native American politics usually suggest one or both of the following reasons 

for the failure of the early business council governments on the Plains. (1) The councilmen were 

powerless to make or implement decisions independently of the federal government and, therefore, either were held in contempt or ignored by 

their tribesmen (Jorgensen, 1972:137-139). (2) 

Majority rule, political centralization, and the 

authorization of representatives to make decisions 

on behalf of tribal members were incompatible 

with traditional political culture, and, therefore, 

elected business councils provoked dissension and 

dissatisfaction (Farber, 1970:124-126). Most observers of twentieth-century Plains politics suggest 

that tribal councils were comprised of young, 

"progressive," "mixed bloods" experienced in 

dealing with Whites. One scholar of tribal governments describes politics on the Plains prior to 

1934 as an ongoing conflict between traditional 

leaders and mixed blood councilmen (Taylor, 

1980:49-50). However, the histories of the Arapahoe and Gros Ventre business councils do not 

fit the general characterizations of Plains tribal 

councils. Arapahoe and Gros Ventre councils had 

universal popular support, in large part due to a 

tradition of an overarching political organization 

based on age grades. 

Establishment of the Business Council 

The Indian Office introduced and instituted a 

business council at Wind River Reservation in 

1893 and at Fort Belknap Reservation in 1904. 

The new form of government was intended to 

expedite BIA programs of directed change and 

also to alter Arapahoe and Gros Ventre concepts 

about the nature and constraints of authority. 

Tribal members were required to elect a small 

number of men to speak and legally act for their 

tribe in the leasing of reservation lands and other 

transactions involving trust property. Federal officials anticipated that decision-making by consensus during all-tribal councils would be rendered obsolete by the introduction of the business 

council role. BIA personnel encouraged the election of young, English-speaking men in the hope 

that the influence of elderly or "conservative" 

opponents of Indian Office policies would be 

undermined. Both the Arapahoes and the Gros 

Ventres readily adopted the election of business 

councilmen, but the changes resulting from business-council government were not entirely those 

anticipated by the federal government. 

T H E NORTHERN ARAPAHOE BUSINESS COUNCIL, 

1908-1934 

As early as 1893 Arapahoes had a business 

council. Congress had formally authorized tribal 

business councils in 1891 by providing that tribes 

could lease trust land with the consent of the 

Secretary of the Interior and the tribal "business 

council" (26 Stat. 794-795). Between 1893 and 

1907 the Arapahoe councilmen (whom Arapahoes referred to as "chiefs") varied in number 

and met infrequently. Council members were 

selected in a general meeting of the tribe. There 

were no elections; rather, senior males conferred 

with each other until consensus was reached as to 

which men would be appropriate choices. Sometimes the Indian agent initiated the selection of 

particular individuals. It was not until 1908 that 

a formally constituted group of six men began to 

meet fairly regularly with the agent. Meetings 

usually were presided over by one of the councilmen. Although the reservation superintendent 

reported that the councilmen were "elected," in 

actuality, until 1930 (when Superintendent R.P. 

Haas imposed balloting) the councilmen were 

chosen at a general meeting of the tribe by elderly 

ritual authorities (Fowler, 1982:166). Those elders, having conferred among themselves and con-
NUMBER 30 75 

suited potential selectees, picked six men from the 

crowd. The six were led in circular procession 

around a large drum. In this context, the drum 

was viewed as sacred and the ceremony was 

conceptualized as a form of prayer. "Honor 

songs" then were sung, which morally obligated 

the new councilmen and their families to make a 

generous distribution of gifts to the crowd. When 

one of the councilmen "retired" or died, the elders 

would choose a replacement in like fashion (Fowler, 1982:87, 98, 149-151). This Drum Ceremony 

dramatically impressed upon the individuals chosen that they had a sacred duty to the tribe as a 

whole. The ceremony also was public acknowledgment of the councilmen's subordination to 

tribal elders. 

Prior to the establishment of the business council, important government proposals usually were 

brought before the entire tribe. The tribe was 

feasted at government expense and officials 

waited while issues were discussed at long length. 

All tribal members had to be in agreement (or at 

least not in overt disagreement) before the chiefs 

would acquiesce to the government proposals. 

With the inception of the business council, the 

BIA had anticipated that the six men representing the tribe could be more easily convinced or 

coerced to support government policies and programs, that these six men could come to an 

agreement much more quickly (and inexpensively) than the tribe as a whole, and, finally, that 

the new form of political organization would 

discourage elderly Arapahoes from attempting to 

influence tribal politics. However, the operation 

of the Arapahoe business council did not conform 

to BIA expectations. 

Although councilmen professed cooperative intent and encouraged and coordinated the efforts 

of Indian employees working on Agency projects, 

they also served as advocates for tribal interests 

(NA, 1918a). Councilmen obtained permission to 

send a three-member delegation to Washington 

in 1908 and again in 1913. The councilmen representing the Arapahoes and those representing 

the Shoshone tribe, which also occupied Wind 

River, worked to convince the Indian Office to 

allow tribal members to have the tribal income 

that was held in trust, suspend water charges on 

trust lands, fulfill promises made during the land 

cession agreements, and put a stop to graft on the 

reservation. The delegations had some success in 

these endeavors. For example, the tribe was given 

1300 head of cattle to start a tribal herd; the 

cattle had been promised when land was ceded 

by the Arapahoe and Shoshone tribes in 1904. 

The relative success of the delegations contributed to the tribal members' acceptance of councilmen as political intermediaries (Fowler, 1982: 

131-133). To the BIA's annoyance, the councilmen steadfastly refused to promote economic individualism. The councilmen's priority was to 

obtain the money from leases on tribal land in 

the form of per capita payments to all tribal 

members. The council members objected to the 

Indian Office's efforts to use tribal funds to finance farming or ranching enterprises for individuals. As Lone Bear (chairman of the business 

council until his death in 1920) put it: "They [the 

BIA] think their own way and think they can 

change the Indians in accordance with their 

[Whites'] own way of living. They think the 

Indians can make money and have money like 

they [Whites] can, but that is impossible." Sam 

Wolfrang (Painted Wolf), councilman from 1913 

to 1933, concurred: "No one except a few of the 

able bodied men [benefit] by expending this 

money in such work [financing individuals]. The 

only way, injustice to the Indians, is to . . . let the 

Indians, each and everybody as a tribe, get an 

equal share of these monies" (NA, 1914a). 

The councilmen were expected by their constituents to articulate tribal consensus, not to 

make decisions independently. One of the elderly 

councilmen. Goes In Lodge, who served from 

1913 to 1920, advised his fellow councilmen, 

"Consult your other people who are not members 

of the council and have it understood outside [in 

the community] and when you come in here [to 

the council meeting] and then, whatever you do, 

there is not any chance for any argument anywhere" (NA, 1915b). The superintendent complained to the Commissioner that the Arapahoes 

"do not seem to be willing to abide by the action 

of such [business] committee, but wish to discuss 
76 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

and settle in general meeting all questions of any 

importance" (NA, 1910). 

Lone Bear was head councilman and main 

spokesman on the council, and Yellow Calf was 

next in prominence. These leaders were headmen 

from the two main bands on the reservation. 

Although Lone Bear and Yellow Calf were the 

primary spokesmen, they merely articulated the 

consensus of the council as a whole. A search of 

all council minutes filed in the National Archives 

reveals that when the council voted on reservation 

matters, the Arapahoes almost always voted 

unanimously. 

Periodically, the Arapahoe business council 

met jointly with the Shoshone business council, 

which represented the Shoshones. In their talks 

with Indian Office officials the councilmen 

worked to suppress dissension among themselves 

and to present a unified view on most reservation 

problems. Militant confrontations with BIA personnel were deliberately delegated to councilmen 

from one of the Shoshone factions referred to by 

Arapahoes and Shoshones as the "Mixed Bloods" 

(Fowler, 1982:147-148). 

The Ceremonial Elders, a group of Arapahoe 

ritual authorities who supervised all tribal religious ceremonies, had considerable influence over 

the councilmen, as well as over Arapahoes in 

general. Attempts to attain personal, supernatural powers by and large ceased after reservation 

settlement, when Arapahoes were no longer going 

to war. Concomitantly with the demise of the 

quest for personal medicine power, the authority 

of the Ceremonial Elders was augmented because 

these officials were increasingly relied upon for 

mediation with the supernatural. The Sun Dance, 

which was directed by the Ceremonial Elders, 

gradually became the only avenue to ritual status 

for most Arapahoes. Despite Indian Office prohibition of the ceremony, it apparently was held 

annually with the exception of a ten-year period 

from 1913 to 1922. The introduction of Christianity was not competitive with native Arapahoe 

religion; rather, Arapahoes participated in both 

Christian ritual and the native religion. Arapahoes skillfully played off the Catholic and Episcopal missions against one another, involving 

themselves in the Catholic mission program when 

the Episcopal missionary pressed the abandonment of native customs and values, and participating in Episcopal programs when the Catholics 

opposed Arapahoe ceremonies too vigorously. Revitalization movements, including peyote and the 

Crow Dance, were introduced among the Arapahoes; but these movements, like Christianity, 

augmented rather than conflicted with traditional ritual life (Fowler, 1982:122-126, 136-137). 

The first council members (men like Lone Bear, 

Yellow Calf, Goes In Lodge) were middle-aged 

individuals who had personal medicine power. 

Most were ex-warriors. By about 1930, a compartmentalization of secular and sacred authority 

had begun to develop. Men with high positions 

in the ceremonial leadership hierarchy did not 

serve as councilmen or directly involve themselves 

in political interaction with Whites; secular leadership was relegated to middle-aged men or occasionally to elderly men without authority in the 

sacred sphere. Yet, the Ceremonial Elders had a 

great deal of influence. They chose the councilmen, had what amounted to veto power in matters of importance, and were always consulted on 

major issues. (See Fowler, 1978, for a more complete discussion of the ways sacred and secular 

leadership interpenetrate among the Arapahoes.) 

Most of the older councilmen spoke and understood English fairly well, but one or two middleaged bilinguals were asked to serve on the council 

so that they could interpret for the senior councilmen. 

In sum, on the surface of it, Arapahoe business 

councilmen accommodated themselves to a 

Western model of political organization. But they 

also related to their constituents and toward each 

other in ways that reflected and reinforced political values of unanimity, generosity, modesty, and 

respect for the authority of the aged. They acted 

as intermediaries and spokesmen, articulating 

group consensus. For these reasons, the business 

councilmen had marked success at generating 

and retaining the support of their constituents. 

Until the 1930s, the councilmen usually served 

until death or retirement, several for terms as 

long as twenty or twenty-five years. 
NUMBER 30 77 

T H E GROS VENTRE BUSINESS COUNCIL, 

1904-1934 

The business council was established during 

Superintendent William Logan's term (1902-

1910). Logan made it a practice to consult with 

a council of tribal leaders in order to talk over 

reservation matters and elicit support for agency 

programs. In a 29 January 1904 meeting, he 

asked one such council to agree to his spending 

money from tribal grazing leases for a flour mill. 

Running Fisher spoke for the Gros Ventres, commenting that he was willing to allow Logan to 

decide how best to spend tribal funds. Logan, 

gratified, commented that he had "never been 

associated with better Indians" and that he was 

"proud of their efforts to get along." He proposed 

to make the council meetings a regular event 

(FARC, 1904). It is not clear how councilmen 

were selected before 1907, but, thereafter, councilmen were chosen at an all-tribal gathering, 

after a discussion among the influential males 

had produced a number of "nominees" who were 

then approved by tribal members in a voice 

"vote." The selection of councilmen on 21 October 1907 was precipitated by instructions from 

Acting Commissioner of Indian Affairs C.F. Larabee, who requested Logan to call a meeting of 

both the Gros Ventres and Assiniboines, who also 

occupied the Fort Belknap Reservation. The purpose of the meeting was an appointment of a 

business council and the authorization of that 

council to sign a proposed leasing agreement with 

a sugar beet processing company (NA, 1907). 

By 1911, Superintendent H.H. Miller (1910-

1914) reported that the Gros Ventres, who settled 

in the Hays district, had an elected business 

council comprised of seven members elected by 

voice vote in a tribal meeting. In addition, the 

Lodgepole and Milk River districts each had 

seven-member business councils representing the 

Assiniboines. Miller, who sought to undermine 

the tradition of decision-making by consensus 

during a meeting of the entire tribe, was hopeful 

that the councilmen would make decisions independently of tribal members in general (NA, 

1911). 

During the 1920s, Superintendent John T. 

Marshall (1921-1929) helped implement annual 

ballot elections in each of the three residential 

areas. Marshall commented, "If the right men are 

elected as councilmen, a great deal of time is 

saved in transacting tribal affairs, as more ground 

can be covered and quicker action obtained by 

presenting the matter to the tribal [business] 

council than if it had to be obtained through 

holding a meeting before the whole tribe" (NA, 

1924). He also hoped that men of the "younger 

generation" would be elected (NA, 1921). The 

Assiniboines elected three councilmen to represent the River district and three councilmen to 

represent the Lodgepole area. The Gros Ventres 

elected six councilmen, usually one who was a 

resident of the River district and five from Hays. 

The council met on 10 July and 5 December 1921 

and drafted and adopted a constitution and bylaws (Fort Belknap, 1921-1929). 

The superintendents at Fort Belknap were initially optimistic that the business councilmen 

would prove to be more "progressive" leaders 

than the chiefs of former years. However, as each 

superintendent's term wore on, his optimism 

faded. Although they tried to cooperate with the 

superintendents' efforts at economic development, councilmen viewed their first task to be 

advocacy for their tribe. 

As advocates, the business councilmen were 

expected by their constituents to try to improve 

reservation living conditions by pressuring or persuading the superintendents and the Indian Office in Washington to provide adequate assistance 

to individuals desirous of starting farming or 

ranching enterprises. Gros Ventre councilmen 

were also expected to obtain federal recognition 

of the Gros Ventre as the "leading" tribe, if not 

the only tribe with rights, on the Fort Belknap 

Reservation. 

The council's agitation for economic reforms 

resulted in a delegation to Washington in the 

spring of 1912. The Gros Ventre and Assiniboine 

delegates reiterated the points stressed by a general council of both tribes on 5 March 1912. The 

Gros Ventres did not have as much income from 

leases and land cessions as the Arapahoes. While 
78 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

per capita payments could ease the poverty of the 

latter, the Gros Ventres could not have benefited 

very much from per capita payments. For this 

reason the delegates pressed for the allotment of 

Fort Belknap, urging that individuals also should 

receive much needed financing as well as sufficient grazing land to support the number of stock 

adequate for family subsistence. They also requested increased rations for the elderly. The 

delegates were taken to meet the President and 

were able to obtain an increase in rations, a 

promise of an investigation of agency programs, 

and a pledge to seriously consider the delegation's 

other requests (NA, 1912). 

During the 1920s, the council sought to improve opportunities for employment and to exert 

more control over leases and the expenditure of 

tribal income. Before the reservation was finally 

allotted in 1923 and 1924, councilmen fought to 

influence the allotment policy, sending two delegations to discuss the issues involved. Despite the 

council's efforts, the Fort Belknap Indians found 

little relief from poverty, although Superintendent Marshall was transferred after the council 

complained about him to officials in Washington 

(Berry, 1973). In 1929, a Senate investigation into 

reservation conditions at Fort Belknap (as well as 

on other reservations) gave the council a new 

forum for their numerous complaints, including 

inadequate rations for the elderly, unfulfilled 

promises from the 1895 land cession agreement, 

an inadequate loan program, unfair irrigation 

charges, agency graft, poor health and education 

facilities and programs, and poor roads (United 

States Senate, 1932:12551-12641). The investigation had the effect of bolstering BIA support 

for stockraising and brought some administrative 

reforms at Belknap (Berry, 1973). The Gros 

Ventre councilmen also continued to press the 

tribe's claim against the United States for the 

violation of the 1855 treaty. (The tribe eventually 

won a judgment from the Court of Claims in 

1935.) 

In most matters, the Gros Ventre and Assiniboine councilmen had few disagreements. Together they protested mismanagement of reservation resources and argued for more self-determination (Fort Belknap, 1921-1929). The Gros 

Ventres, however, insisted on the primacy of Gros 

Ventre rights at Fort Belknap. They argued that 

in the 1860s and 1870s they had agreed that some 

of the Assiniboines could occupy the lands assigned to the Gros Ventres in the Treaty of 1855, 

but that since that time other Assiniboines moved 

on the reservation without the Gros Ventres' 

consent. In their strategy to win federal allies in 

the struggle over rights to Fort Belknap, councilmen sought to convince the superintendents that 

Gros Ventres were more "progressive" than Assiniboines. They often succeeded. Superintendent 

J.D. Martin (1914-1916) described the Gros 

Ventres as much more progressive than the Assiniboines and the Gros Ventre councilmen as 

"quite active in seeking some method or plan for 

the improvement of the Indians." He was critical 

of the Assiniboine councilmen: "Some of them 

have endeavored to stir up discord and dissatisfaction among the Indians. ... " According to 

Martin, the Assiniboines had "much less livestock 

per capita than the Gros Ventres and much less 

ambition" (NA, 1914b, 1915a). At times, the 

Assiniboines made a more favorable impression 

on federal officials. 

In 1913, the Gros Ventres sent two councilmen 

to Washington to protest the Indian Office's plans 

to allot Belknap lands to all of the Assiniboines 

living at Fort Belknap, arguing that most should 

be allotted at Fort Peck with other Assiniboine 

bands (FARC, 1913). To the Gros Ventres' annoyance, they were informed that the Assiniboines were entitled to allotment at Fort Belknap. 

Although the Gros Ventres were not consulted 

about the matter. Fort Belknap Reservation was 

created by the Act of 15 April 1874 (18 Stat. 28) 

from part of the land reserved for the Gros 

Ventres in 1855. (The reservation was reduced in 

size in 1887.) The government justified the allotment of the Assiniboines because the Act provided that not only the Gros Ventres but also, at 

the President's discretion, "other Indians" could 

be placed at Fort Belknap. 

In the 1920s, the Gros Ventre councilmen 
NUMBER 30 79 

worked to generate support among their constituents by dominating the council meetings in 

which Assiniboines also participated. After the 

annual council election, the councilmen elected 

officers. The Gros Ventres generally voted unanimously, taking advantage of cleavages among 

various bands and kin groups within the Assiniboine community, so that a Gros Ventre was 

always elected president of the council. The other 

officers were selected equally from the two tribes; 

but when two Assiniboines were nominated, the 

Gros Ventre vote was decisive. On 11 July 1921, 

John Buckman, a Gros Ventre, was elected president and Steven Bradley, also Gros Ventre, was 

elected treasurer. Two Assiniboines were elected 

vice-president and secretary (Fort Belknap, 1921-

1929). This pattern continued during the decade. 

When relations were particularly strained between the two tribes, as they were in 1922 and 

1923 when the federal government enrolled several Assiniboines against the wishes of the Gros 

Ventres, the Gros Ventre councilmen retaliated. 

On 3 July 1922 the council elected Gros Ventres 

to all the council offices (Fort Belknap, 1921-

1929). Superintendent Marshall was moved to 

comment on the nature of Gros Ventre-Assiniboine relations, "Assiniboines are a more selfabnegatory race than the haughty, aggressive and 

the more or less arrogant Gros Ventres" (NA, 

1921). 

The most distressing issue for the Gros Ventre 

councilmen during the 1920s was the work of the 

Enrollment Commission, which had been initiated by the government and selected by the tribes 

to prepare an official roll of Fort Belknap Indians 

entitled to allotment at Fort Belknap. In 1921, 

the commission, comprised of Superintendent 

Marshall and one councilman from each tribe, 

began work. When they submitted the roll to the 

Indian Office, officials refused to approve it and, 

instead, added several names of "foreign Indians" 

(Canadian Assiniboines) and of individuals with 

Indian ancestry who were not accepted as Indians 

by the people at Fort Belknap. The tribes at 

Belknap were informed that the Indian Office 

did not want "homeless Indians" creating problems of administration. The Gros Ventres were 

outraged. The councilmen wrote to the Secretary 

of the Interior on 10 July 1922: "We are sore ... . 

These people sponged on our kindness for some 

years, now make this a pretext of their claim. . ." 

(NA, 1922a). The Enrollment Commission called 

a meeting on 29 July 1922 and tribal members 

were asked to vote on accepting the changes made 

by the Indian Office. Apparently, the Assiniboines present outnumbered the Gros Ventres: an 

Assiniboine was elected to chair the meeting. 

When a vote was taken, there were 206 votes in 

favor and 161 votes opposed to enrolling the 

individuals (most of whom were "Canadian" or 

"Canoe" Assiniboines) who had been added to 

the roll by the Indian Office (NA, 1922b). The 

Gros Ventres bitterly petitioned to remove the 

disputed names from the roll (and the allotment 

list), pointing out that the "original Assiniboine" 

had been accepted at Fort Belknap in the late 

nineteenth century, but not the successive waves 

of intruders from Canada and Wolf Point who 

"just slipped in." The Gros Ventres complained, 

"We have become poorer and poorer. . . " (NA, 

1923). 

During the first three decades of the twentieth 

century, the Gros Ventre business councilmen 

organized themselves into a very cohesive group 

of advocates. While Gros Ventres delegated to 

their councilmen the authority to articulate the 

needs and concerns of tribal members, councilmen were not supposed to make decisions independently of the tribe. Reservation affairs were 

discussed in frequently held community meetings 

at Hays and particularly important decisions 

were referred by the Gros Ventre councilmen to 

a tribal-wide vote. 

On the council itself, the Gros Ventre councilmen were unwilling to delegate authority to individuals. During the 1920s, decisions were made 

only after all six councilmen talked over an issue 

and agreed on a position. On 5 December 1921, 

when the Assiniboine councilman who had been 

elected council secretary made a motion that he 

be authorized to sign reimbursable agreements 

on behalf of the tribes, the Gros Ventres and 
80 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

several Assiniboines refused to agree, arguing that 

it was not acceptable for one individual to "sign 

papers for all," especially when an issue had not 

been thoroughly discussed among all the councilmen (Fort Belknap, 1921-1929). There was usually a main spokesman for each tribe (John Buckman for the Gros Ventres), but his comments 

always reiterated viewpoints of the council as a 

whole. Superintendent Martin noted the unity of 

the Gros Ventre councilmen and remarked on the 

contrasting nature of the Assiniboines: "The Assiniboines are less united in purposeful action. 

They are somewhat given to falling into factional 

groups between which there is more or less 

strife. . ." (NA, 1915a). 

In the early years of the business council during 

Logan's term, the councilmen were mostly elderly 

men with outstanding war records and means 

substantial enough to be conspicuously generous 

or to be selected as a Keeper of one of the two 

tribal medicine bundles, the Sacred Pipes. Among 

these elderly warriors were Bushey Head (b. 

1835), Sleeping Bear (b. 1850), Skunk (b. 1843), 

Lame Bull (b. 1830), and Otter Robe (b. 1847). 

Lame Bull was an ex-Keeper and Otter Robe a 

Keeper of the Flat Pipe at the time of their 

election to the council; and Sleeping Bear was a 

Keeper of the Feathered Pipe. There were a few 

younger, bilingual men in their thirties who 

served on the council as interpreters. 

By the second decade of the twentieth century, 

the councilmen were by and large in their middle 

and late forties. Six men—^John Buckman (b. 

1873), The Boy (b. 1872), Victor Brockie (b. 

1880), Rufus Warrior (b. 1883), Peter Capture 

(b. 1866), and Steven Bradley (b. 1876)—dominated the business council well into the 1930s. 

Like their predecessors in council office, they 

behaved in ways that reflected the cultural ideal 

of generosity. Councilmen, who had horse herds 

and a few head of cattle, helped the needy and 

contributed to tribal celebrations (for example, 

the Grass Dance). Regina Flannery (1947:65) 

noted that The Boy was particularly prominent 

in Grass Dance ceremonies during the first two 

decades of the twentieth century. Several councilmen were supporting orphans or other individuals in need. 

After 1910, Gros Ventre elders did not involve 

themselves in tribal government to anywhere near 

the extent that the Arapahoe elders did. Their 

gradual withdrawal from secular affairs was coterminous with a general decline in tribal members' participation in native religious ritual. The 

two ritual authorities, Keepers of the two sacred 

tribal bundles, still held the sacred Flat Pipe and 

Feathered Pipe ceremonies (Carter, 1936b; Dusenberry, 1963:49). By the third decade of the 

twentieth century, however, it was impossible to 

find a Gros Ventre willing to take on the responsibility of either of the pipes. In fact, by the turn 

of the century, it is clear that the Grass Dance 

ceremony had become the focus of Gros Ventre 

ceremonial life, replacing the Sun Dance and 

men's sacred lodge dances (Kroeber, 1908:238, 

268; Flannery, 1947:39-41). Among the Arapahoes, when the Grass or Crow Dance was introduced, it was integrated into the entire Arapahoe 

ceremonial order: that is, it was viewed as a 

religious ritual and the director of the ceremony 

was an elder. The Gros Ventres viewed the Grass 

Dance as a secular ritual; but nonetheless one 

which reinforced tribal solidarity, offered an opportunity for individual recognition, and provided an occasion for the expression of Gros 

Ventre cultural identity. Grass Dance officials 

could force participation; in addition, considerable social pressure was exerted on tribal members to contribute financially to the dances, to 

accept offices, and to join in the dancing. When 

"offices" were transferred, recipients and their 

families were obligated to give-away large 

amounts of property. While elders were called 

upon to participate by reciting their war exploits, 

the ceremonies were directed by middle-aged men 

(Flannery, 1947:65). After 1920, so-called agricultural fairs and other social events, such as 

grave decoration ceremonies, naming ceremonies, 

social dancing, and games (all of which included 

give-aways) became the focus of Gros Ventre 

ceremonial life at Hays. Gros Ventres who settled 

in the southern section of Hays were called the 
NUMBER 30 81 

Mountain Crows, and those who settled in the 

northern section were called Black Lodges; in a 

competitive spirit, the two groups alternated 

sponsorship of the celebrations (Fowler, 1979). 

Middle-aged men assumed responsibility for organizing all of these affairs. Religious expression 

apparently centered around Catholic rites. Probably the Catholic rituals filled a void in Gros 

Ventre life but did not in themselves draw tribal 

members away from native ceremonies. Native 

rituals were held infrequently due to discord 

about the qualifications of ritual authorities, as 

well as opposition from missionaries. 

Three of the long-term councilmen (Buckman, 

Bradley, and Warrior) were the offspring of Gros 

Ventre mothers and White fathers, but were 

reared by their Gros Ventre relatives and had 

learned English from attending a year or two of 

mission or government boarding school. Government reports distorted the nature of leadership 

among the Gros Ventres during this time because 

all persons with White ancestry were labeled 

"mixed bloods" and assumed to be oriented toward White world view and ethos. However, from 

the Gros Ventre point of view, and also the 

Arapahoe perspective, Indian identity was defined by cultural not biological criteria. How a 

person behaved determined whether he was truly 

Gros Ventre. For example, ethnologist John 

Carter, while attending the 1906 Assiniboine Sun 

Dance, made note of a man who had been 

adopted by a Gros Ventre family when he wandered into their camp as a small child. This man 

(married to a Gros Ventre) was the child of White 

parents; nonetheless, he had been "a Gros Ventre 

Indian all his life" (Carter, 1936a). When questions arose as to who was entitled to enrollment 

in the Gros Ventre tribe, tribal members were 

adamant that individuals who behaved like true 

Gros Ventres should be enrolled, regardless of 

"degree of blood." In a well-known case in 1918, 

one woman of Gros Ventre and White ancestry 

was supported by the general council of tribal 

members, against the expressed wishes of the 

superintendent. Tribal members argued that she 

had "always admitted" her Gros Ventre ancestry 

and had "visited the relatives on the reservation," 

and "the Indians of the reservation have visited 

at her home and were recognized as relations." 

Other individuals, with the same combination of 

Gros Ventre and White ancestry, were rejected 

for enrollment because they did not live on the 

reservation, and/or associate with other Gros 

Ventres (NA, 1918b). 

Persons classified as Gros Ventre Mixed Bloods 

by the Gros Ventres themselves lived on Milk 

River and had been reared by or closely associated with their White relatives. These Mixed 

Bloods, as well as their Assiniboine neighbors 

along Milk River, were involved in farming on a 

larger scale than the Indians at Hays and Lodgepole. The River district contained about onehalf of the population of Fort Belknap, but most 

people living there were Assiniboines (NA, 1909, 

1919). 

The Gros Ventre councilmen were by and large 

residents of Hays, had been reared by Gros 

Ventres, and were married to either Gros Ventres 

or non-Gros Ventre Indians. In short, the councilmen were "true Gros Ventres." Similarly, few 

Mixed Bloods served on the Arapahoe business 

council, although some councilmen had White 

ancestry. As with the Arapahoes, Gros Ventre 

council membership was markedly stable. The 

elected councilmen generated consistent, universal support and served many successive terms 

until retirement or death. 

We find, then, that elected business councils 

were fully institutionalized among both the 

Arapahoes and Gros Ventres, but that the notion 

of "representative democracy" was never accepted; instead, the role of councilman was accommodated to native cultural concepts of authority. The councilmen, who worked closely with 

and sometimes came into conflict with Federal 

personnel, were not culturally assimilated, 

"marginal" individuals. Reports that differences 

in the political life of the Arapahoes and Gros 

Ventres were due to differential biological assimilation are likewise inadequate. In fact, Indian 

census rolls show little difference in biological 

assimilation between the two tribes until the 
82 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1920s. The most apparent difference was that 

elderly ritual leaders had great influence over 

Arapahoe political process, but among the Gros 

Ventres they withdrew from political life. To 

understand the reasons why the business council 

was not the instrument of assimilation that the 

BIA thought it would be and to account for the 

apparent differences in political reorganization 

between these two tribes, it is necessary to compare Arapahoe and Gros Ventre political process 

in the nineteenth century. 

Divergent Patterns of Political Reorganization 

in the Nineteenth Century 

The business council role was basically that of 

political middleman or intermediary in IndianWhite relations. Earlier, in the nineteenth century, both intermediary leadership and the mechanisms of consensus formation that helped motivate support for intermediaries were well developed among Arapahoes and Gros Ventres. Variations in political culture were due to differences 

between the Arapahoe and Gros Ventre age 

group systems in interplay with the differing contact conditions experienced by the two peoples. 

AGE GRADING AND CONSENSUS FORMATION 

In the first major study of traditional Plains 

political organization, Robert Lowie (1916:931) 

compared the age group systems of the Arapahoes 

and Gros Ventres and considered them virtually 

identical. Some sixty years later, in the most 

comprehensive comparative study of Plains age 

group systems since Lowie's effort, Frank Stewart 

came to the same conclusion. Stewart (1977:323, 

326-327) drew structural parallels between the 

two tribes, indicating that in age set systems, age 

grade dances, and transition ceremonies the two 

tribes basically were alike. Up to a point the age 

group systems of the two tribes did have much in 

common, but the contrasts were also striking. 

All Arapahoe ceremonies were directed by the 

Water Pouring Old Men, a small group of ritual 

authorities who supervised the participants in 

religious rituals and motivated social conformity 

year-round through a complex of supernatural 

sanctions. No comparable group of ritual authorities directed Gros Ventre ceremonies or intervened in secular matters. Also, the Arapahoes' 

strong value orientation toward social cohesion 

was reflected in the fact that each of the age 

grade statuses was occupied by only one age set. 

(An age set is a group of peers who as youths are 

inducted into the first age grade and move 

through a series of age grades together. Age 

grades are categories of persons who are in the 

same life stage and who have a particular status 

and role or roles in their society.) Occupying each 

Gros Ventre age grade there were several age sets, 

between which was a strong spirit of rivalry 

(Kroeber, 1908:232-233). 

Arapahoes viewed the life course as a progression through four general age categories, the "four 

stages of life": child, unformed or immature 

youth, mature adult, elder. Males were organized 

into seven unnamed age sets and progressively 

passed through a series of grades or "lodges." A 

lodge ceremony was undergone by the age set 

members when one member vowed to complete 

the ritual. Youths first joined the Kit-Fox Lodge, 

then the Star Lodge, both of which were viewed 

as primarily secular in nature. With their fellow 

age set members, mature males entered four sacred lodges: the Tomahawk Lodge, the Spear 

Lodge, the Crazy Lodge, and the Dog Lodge. 

Elders entered the Old Men's Lodge. In essence, 

progression through the lodges bestowed increasingly greater sacred knowledge. Individuals in all 

the age sets could vow to enter the Sacrifice Lodge 

or Sun Dance. Superordinate to all the lodge men 

were the Water Pouring Old Men, seven elders 

who had earned a requisite number of "degrees" 

through personal ordeals and sacrifices and who 

directed all tribal rituals and acted as custodians 

of seven tribal medicine bags. The primary tribal 

medicine bundle was the Sacred Flat Pipe, which 

was in the lifelong custody of the Pipe Keeper. 

The Water Pouring Old Men and the Pipe 

Keeper served as mediators between the Arapahoe people and the Creator; their authority was 
NUMBE R 30 83 

validated and reinforced by supernatural sanction (Mooney, 1896:986-989; Kroeber, 1902-

1907:151-230). 

The Gros Ventres also viewed the aging process 

as a transition from the first to the fourth "stage 

of life." Among male youths, completion of the 

Fly Lodge marked an age set's entry into the 

series of age-graded ceremonial orders. Mature 

men successively entered the Crazy, Kit-Fox, 

Dog, and Drum lodges. The Sacred Lodge for 

which elders were eligible was the Law Enforcers. 

After this ceremony was completed, the elders 

were thought of as "retired" (Cooper, 1957: 

173-243). The members of any of the age sets 

could vow to participate in the Sacrifice Lodge. 

This lodge differed from that of the Arapahoes in 

its greater emphasis on ceremonies related to war 

and the exercise of purely personal, shamanistic 

supernatural powers (such as, the production of 

water from the center pole) (Kroeber, 1908:268). 

As among the Arapahoes, elders could be selected 

as liturgists and advisors (Grandfathers) by 

younger men participating in the lodges. According to Kroeber, however, none among these elders 

had directive authority in relation to the Gros 

Ventre ceremonial hierarchy in its entirety (Kroeber, 1908:230). The Gros Ventres had two sacred 

tribal medicine bundles, the Flat Pipe and the 

Feathered Pipe. Tribal members apparently decided for themselves to which Pipe they would be 

most devoted (Cooper, 1957:165, 171-172). 

Whereas the Arapahoe Keeper of the Sacred Flat 

Pipe held his office for life, terms of office of the 

Gros Ventre keepers in the historical period varied from approximately four to twelve years. 

In addition to entering the six Gros Ventre age 

grades, the members of each age set joined either 

the Star or the Wolf Society. Comprised of men 

from all levels in the lodge series, these moieties 

were competitive and the relationship between 

the Star and Wolf men paralleled the enemyfriend relationship between individuals. Apparently, an individual also selected his enemy-friend 

from outside his own moiety (Flannery, 1953:40). 

It is likely that these moieties or "streams" impinged on the age hierarchy principle. (Such 

seems to be the case in similar African age group 

systems; Spencer, 1976.) 

The age group systems of the Arapahoes and 

Gros Ventres served as an overarching political 

structure during the spring and summer when the 

sacred lodges and communal hunts were held. All 

the bands were obligated to assemble for a lodge 

ceremony, all-tribal councils were convened, and 

policing duties were assigned to Arapahoe age 

sets and to Gros Ventre age sets or societies. Band 

headmen, who articulated the consensus of a 

council of influential males during an all-tribal 

meeting, could direct an age set to enforce council 

decisions. Gros Ventre societies apparently also 

could enforce society decisions while their members participated in a lodge ceremony. Lemuel 

Burke (1877) observed a Gros Ventre age set or 

society in action on 29 April 1877: 

The Gros Ventres commenced to move for buffalo. There 

seemed to be a division of sentiment in the direction they 

should move, part wishing to cross and go in a northernly 

direction from the fort and others wishing to go down the 

river some distance before crossing the river. Early quite a 

number of them commenced to move to cross over at the 

fort. In the meantime the Soldier Lodge was holding a 

council and determined that the camp should move down 

on the south side of the river five or six miles [8 or 9.5 km] 

before crossing, and that they should go down to the vicinity 

of the Half Breed Camp and try to find buffaloes in that 

vicinity. The crossing at the fort had already commenced 

and the Soldier Band at once ordered them to stop, and 

proceeded to throw the plunder out of the boat and took 

hold of the rope to turn the boats loose on the river. They 

were only prevented from doing so by two White men who 

were to row the boats. In the meantime quite a party was 

engaged in crossing their horses and effects over the river, at 

the wagon crossing, by fording. The Soldier Band soon paid 

their respects to them, and brought the whole party back 

with the exception of one or two lodges who had crossed the 

river and gone. The Soldiers however had to kill some of the 

dogs to prevent them from persisting in crossing, but that 

soon brought the refractory party to obedience and the 

whole camp joined in the march down the south side of the 

river. 

Among the Arapahoes, the Ceremonial Elders 

could also motivate tribal members to act in 

unison by exercising the threat of supernatural 

sanction, that is, the views of the Water Pouring 
84 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Old Men were thought to be revelations from the 

Creator. 

INTERMEDIARY AUTHORITY: INDIAN-WHITE 

RELATIONS IN THE MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY 

A century before the introduction of the business council, regular contact with White traders 

(Lewis, 1942; Jablow, 1950) and, later, more 

intensive contact with settlers and government 

officials led to the emergence or the elaboration 

of the role of intermediary chief. Introduction of 

intermediaries or "political middlemen" in Indian-White relations appears to have set well with 

both Arapahoes and Gros Ventres. Regina Flannery's (1953:36) consultants said that as early as 

the late eighteenth century the selection of Gros 

Ventre "tribal [that is, intermediary] chiefs" was 

formalized in a ritual performed by elders. The 

public acknowledgment of Arapahoe "tribal 

chiefs" by elders is documented as early as 1851. 

The Arapahoes 

As subsistence became more and more difficult 

without aid from Whites, intermediary chiefs 

were increasingly important to the Arapahoes 

(NA, 1848a). In the 1840s, Arapahoes commonly 

solicited provisions from emigrants and government officials through "friendly chiefs," men who 

made reputations for assisting or befriending 

Whites (Garrard, 1850:88, 314; Heslep, 1937: 

371-373; Pancoast, 1930:191-193; NA, 1848b, 

1849). After the United States initiated the peace 

councils of 1851, 1867-1868, and 1876, it was the 

task of intermediary chiefs to convince the Indian 

Office that the tribe had kept the peace agreements and, therefore, was entitled to treaty provisions. 

At the Fort Laramie treaty council of 1851, the 

Arapahoes, as well as several other Plains peoples 

agreed to end intertribal hostilities, designate intermediary chiefs, keep the peace with Whites, 

recognize certain designated tracts as controlled 

by specific tribes, and to allow the United States 

to establish roads and military posts in Indian 

country. The United States agreed to make annuity payments to the tribes for 15 years (Kappler, 1904:594-596). Chiefs were given the responsibility for distribution of annuities. The Arapahoes selected Little Owl, an acknowledged 

friendly chief and a band headman, as "head" or 

"tribal" chief Afterwards, an Arapahoe elder 

spoke to the tribe urging support for Little Owl 

{Missouri Republican, 1851). 

During the 1860s, Indian-White hostilities were 

frequent, which resulted in the suspension of 

annuity issues. During these times, the role of the 

intermediary chief was less meaningful. By 1869, 

Medicine Man was acting as spokesman for the 

Northern Arapahoes in dealings with Whites 

(Campbell, 1869). His interpreter was Friday, a 

bilingual Arapahoe who was headman of a small 

band. (Friday also had interpreted for Little Owl 

and served as interpreter for all successive intermediary chiefs until 1883.). Medicine Man was 

particularly alert to opportunities to establish 

friendly ties with Army officers, who were influential in Washington at the time and also able to 

issue provisions. In 1869 and 1870, there were 

clashes between Indians and Whites in the Sweetwater country; Medicine Man traveled to Fort 

Fetterman and convinced the commander that 

Arapahoes were innocent of the depredations, 

thus forestalling military reprisals (NA, 1870). 

Black Coal succeeded Medicine Man as the 

tribe's intermediary chief, and he assumed responsibility for urging federal officials to settle 

Arapahoes on a reservation where they would be 

safe from hostile Whites and would be issued 

provisions regularly. On behalf of the Northern 

Arapahoes, Black Coal met with the Peace Commission in 1876. At the time, Arapahoes had little 

choice but to settle permanently either on the 

Sioux Reservation near Fort Randall or in the 

Indian Territory, where they would be issued 

provisions until they could be "self-supporting" 

(U.S. Senate, 1876). But Black Coal and other 

chiefs subsequently persuaded Army officials to 

intercede for the Arapahoes. In 1877, the Northern Arapahoes obtained permission to settle in 

Wyoming (NA, 1877a, 1877b). 

Throughout the 1850s, 1860s, and 1870s, Ceremonial Elders had exerted great influence over 

the intermediaries, as well as over Arapahoes in 
NUMBER 30 85 

general. The Sun Dance and the men's sacred 

lodges took place periodically. The recorded statements of the intermediary chiefs also indicate 

that elders (most probably the Ceremonial Elders) had considerable authority when decisions 

were made about Arapahoe-White relations and 

that they continued to validate the status of 

intermediary chiefs. The influence of elders is 

clear from the statements of Sorrel Horse, one of 

the war chiefs who brought word to the 1867 

Peace Commission that the Arapahoes would 

attend the peace council. He noted that he spoke 

on behalf of "our old men" (Simonin, 1966: 

118-119). 

By the time Arapahoes arrived at Shoshone 

Agency in 1878, the chiefs who served as intermediaries were viewed as successful advocates. At 

the agency, the Arapahoes were organized into 

several bands. The headman of the largest band 

was Black Coal, and the next largest band acknowledged Sharp Nose as headman. These two 

bands had a serious quarrel just prior to settlement on the reservation; yet, in their meetings 

with the agent or other government officials, the 

headmen and their followers exhibited no ill will 

toward one another. Black Coal, referred to by 

all as "head chief," was always the main spokesman. And the other headmen always concurred 

with Black Coal (Fowler, 1982:76). Actually, the 

positions taken by these headmen, including 

Black Coal, were arrived at in general councils in 

which the influence of the elderly ritual authorities was paramount. Black Coal made it clear 

that he acted only to relay tribal consensus when 

he told the commissioners at the 1891 land cession 

council that he could not agree to their proposals 

until the subject of the cession was discussed 

among all adult Arapahoes in a general council 

(NA, 1891:44-45,61): 

I am only one Indian ... . I want all the Indians to talk 

it over first ... . If I should sign a treaty without the consent 

of the other Indians, some of them would kill me ... . I only 

say what others tell me to .. . . Others tell me to say what I 

am told to say. I don't say these things myself 

The extent of the authority of the elderly ritual 

leaders was apparent throughout the early reservation era. C)ne particularly revealing incident 

occurred in 1879 when an Arapahoe killed one of 

the Arapahoe members of the Indian police. The 

murder was especially disturbing to the tribe 

because it threatened to destroy the agent's confidence in the Arapahoes as peaceable and untroublesome to the government. Elderly ritual 

authorities persuaded the killer to surrender himself to the agent, and they also pressured the kin 

and friends of the victim to forego revenge. Black 

Coal, despite his status as "head chief," had no 

authority to intercede. His role in the incident 

was to make a public speech to the agent reaffirming the Arapahoes' determination to be "good" 

(that is, peaceful) Indians (NA, 1879). 

The years of deprivation prior to reservation 

settlement and the hardships of reservation life 

took their toll among the elderly. By the 1880s, 

only a very few Water Pouring Old Men were 

living, and the ritual knowledge of these men had 

been passed on only in part (Mooney, 1896:986). 

Not all the ritual knowledge of the old men was 

transferred to successors, however; authority to 

supervise and direct all tribal religious rituals and 

to intercede with the Creator on behalf of the 

tribe was assumed by other old men. The Keeper 

of the Sacred Flat Pipe, Weasel Bear, took on this 

role from the 1890s until his death in 1904 (Kroeber, 1902-1907:309); and others succeeded Weasel Bear. By altering or reinterpreting rituals, the 

ceremonial duties were accommodated to the 

abilities or level of training of the persons selected 

as Ceremonial Elders. The Sun Dance continued 

to be performed regularly and the age graded 

men's lodges took place periodically throughout 

the 1880s and 1890s, as well, although not all age 

peers joined. The social duties of the lodge men 

apparently were greatly diminished. The successive groups of Ceremonial Elders were able to 

exert considerable influence over Arapahoes, not 

only in the context of rituals, such as the Sun 

Dance, but also in social relations generally. 

-nineThe Gros Ventres 

Among the Gros Ventres during the mid-ni 

teenth century, intermediary chiefs appear to be 

less conspicuous than among the Arapahoes. Buf-
86 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

falo hunting was possible for the Gros Ventres 

much longer than for the Arapahoes, and there 

was a good trade in buffalo robes until the 1870s. 

Individuals could exchange robes for provisions 

at the trading companies situated on or near the 

Missouri. The difficulties faced by Gros Ventres 

during the mid-nineteenth century were more 

often those precipitated by war with other tribes 

than by the threat of military attack from Whites 

(Ewers, 1974). The Gros Ventres were not bothered by incursions from White settlers until the 

1870s. The intermediary role in Indian-White 

relations seems to have been conferred only sporadically and, according to Flannery (1953:36) 

without formal installation by elders (see also 

Lewis, 1942:42-43). 

At the Blackfoot treaty council in 1855, Isaac 

Stevens requested each tribe to authorize a head 

chief to serve as main spokesman for the tribe. 

Despite Flannery's informants' assertion that Sitting Woman assumed this role, treaty proceedings 

do not so indicate. The Piegan, Blood, and Northern Blackfeet were represented by "head chiefs," 

but the Gros Ventres presented no one spokesman. Stevens unsuccessfully tried to promote 

Bear Shirt as Gros Ventre head chief; instead, 

at the council eight "principal chiefs" (headmen), acting in unison, signed the treaty (NA, 

1855; Hatch, 1856:625-626). When F.V. Hayden 

(1862:340) met the Gros Ventres in 1855, he 

described them as "united in their undertakings" 

but mentioned no intermediary chiefs. Until the 

mid-1860s, there were no individuals who consistently served as spokesmen. 

By the 1860s, Sitting Woman, a famous warrior 

and "the bravest man in the [Gros Ventre] nation" according to the agent, was acknowledged 

by the Gros Ventres as "head chief (Upson, 

1864:440). Sitting Woman signed the treaties of 

1865 and 1868 in his capacity as the Gros Ventres' 

tribal chief (NA, 1865; NA, 1868b). Although 

Agent Upson noted that the Gros Ventres were 

"the best governed tribe in the Blackfeet nation" 

and that "the head chief's word is law," this 

statement is most probably an exaggeration. 

Flannery's informants related stories about Sitting Woman's bravery, but also about his responsiveness to the expectations and wishes of his 

tribesmen. In 1868, at the height of his reputation, 

Sitting Woman and several other war chiefs 

"abandoned the tribe" and with only 29 lodges 

of followers joined the "hostile Sioux" despite the 

Gros Ventre tribe's firm commitment to peace 

with Whites (NA, 1868a). It is likely that the 

intermediary role became less relevant after Congress failed to ratify the treaty agreements of 1865 

and 1868. In any case, since the other tribes in 

the "Blackfoot Nation" were involved in sporadic 

clashes with Whites, it was difficult for the Gros 

Ventres, who were fewer and weaker than the 

Piegan, Blood, and Blackfeet tribes, to cultivate 

friendly relations with Whites. 

In the 1870s, after Sitting Woman's death, no 

individual appears to have been acknowledged as 

Gros Ventre intermediary chief by government 

officials or traders or by the Gros Ventres themselves. It may be that after 1870 the Gros Ventres 

were increasingly suspicious of Whites; although 

the agent reported that smallpox was contracted 

from "half-breeds" in Canada, the Gros Ventres 

blamed Whites for the outbreak of the disease 

(NA, 1869). In 1872, the Gros Ventres had two 

prominent leaders, each of whom led a portion of 

the tribe. White Eagle (referred to as second in 

authority to Sitting Woman in 1867 by Wright, 

1867:256) and his people stayed to the south and 

allied themselves with the Crows, and Young 

Man Bear and his people roamed to the north in 

the vicinity of the Cypress Mountains (Stuart, 

1872; NA, 1872). Subsequently, no individuals 

were named as intermediary chiefs until after the 

1878 establishment of the Fort Belknap Agency 

for the Gros Ventres and Upper Assiniboines. 

During the nineteenth century, the Gros 

Ventre age grade system began to collapse. Alltribal religious ceremonies became less frequent, 

and the influence of elderly ritual authorities 

waned. It is possible that tribal gatherings became 

less feasible because there were frequent epidemics during the century, and in these times it was 

the custom for the tribe to scatter. Devastating 

population loss also may have undermined re-
NUMBER 30 87 

spect for ritual leaders, who were considered to 

be responsible for the well-being of the tribe. (The 

Northern Arapahoes, who numbered less than 

the Gros Ventres, also experienced epidemics in 

the 1830s through the 1850s, but they did not 

have large losses after the early 1860s.) Alexander 

Culbertson (in Stevens, 1853:96) noted that between 1830 and 1853, the Gros Ventres had been 

reduced (through disease and warfare) by onefourth. In 1853, there were at least 3000 Gros 

Ventres; by 1869, 2000; by 1870, 1300; and by 

1885, only 852 (Stevens, 1853:96; NA, 1869; Lincoln, 1885:130). The agent reported a loss of 160 

people during a measles epidemic in 1864 (Upson, 

1864:512) and a loss of 741 from smallpox in 1870 

(Reed, 1870:200). On the latter occasion, most of 

the dead were young adults, those who ordinarily 

would have been beginning their induction into 

the lodges. The last Drum Lodge was held in the 

1830s; the last Kit-Fox Lodge, about 1870; the 

last Dog Lodge, sometime in the late 1870s; the 

last Crazy Lodge, in 1884; and the last Sun Dance 

was held in 1885. Thereafter, the threat of military reprisals discouraged the tribe from conducting the outlawed Sun Dance ceremony (Lincoln, 

1885:131). During these years, individuals reportedly could enter the men's graded lodges out of 

sequence and could join the lodges at an inappropriate age. One of Cooper's informants entered 

the Law Enforcers in 1880 at the age of 20, and 

joined the Fly Lodge in 1907 at the age of 47 

(Cooper, 1957:174). The disruptive conditions of 

the mid-nineteenth century apparently had an 

effect on the office of Sacred Pipe Keeper, as well. 

In the 1860s, there were several Flat Pipe Keepers 

who died before completing the customary fouryear term (Cooper, 1957:34). In contrast, when 

the Keeper of the Arapahoes' Sacred Pipe died in 

1907, he had held office for at least 35 years. 

In about 1874 the Gros Ventres' Flat Pipe was 

transferred to Crow Bull. Crow Bull had married 

an Assiniboine woman, and after Crow Bull's 

death in 1887, she neglected the Pipe. By 1888, 

when the Gros Ventres settled permanently in the 

Little Rockies area at Fort Belknap, there was 

little game and semistarvation conditions prevailed. Apparently, there was some difficulty in 

finding someone willing to take on the financial 

and social responsibility that accompanied the 

office of Keeper of the Flat Pipe or Keeper of the 

Feathered Pipe (Cooper, 1957:35, 131). At Fort 

Belknap, the competitive dances and give-aways 

of the Starmen and Wolfmen became the focus 

of ritual participation for most Gros Ventres 

(Kroeber, 1908:234). 

In sum, during the reservation period, Arapahoe Ceremonial Elders continued to legitimize 

secular leadership and to exert control over social 

life in general; however, among the Gros Ventres, 

ritual authorities (whose influence was less pervasive than that of the Arapahoe Ceremonial 

Elders to begin with) lost much of the influence 

they formerly had possessed. In the 1880s and 

1890s, the repercussions of the elders' diminished 

influence were political turmoil and less effective 

advocacy on the part of Gros Ventre leaders. 

Reservation settlement created optimum conditions for the reemergence of intermediary leadership, because survival largely was dependent on 

the government's issue of provisions, tools, seed, 

and stock. Without a well-defined and ritually 

reinforced age hierarchy and centralized religious 

leadership, however, the Gros Ventres had difficulty mobilizing political consensus. Agent Lincoln compounded the problem of political reorganization by encouraging the captain of the 

agency's Indian police to vie for the position of 

tribal chief. Following instructions from Washington, Agent Lincoln hired Gros Ventres and 

Assiniboines as Indian police and empowered 

them to make arrests and arbitrate disputes. His 

encouragement of the police seems to have precipitated, or at the very least exacerbated, a 

rivalry between two leaders. Lame Bull and Running Fisher. 

Running Fisher (also known as Jerry) was active in horse raiding and intertribal battles during 

the 1860s and 1870s, and had made a reputation 

as an outstanding warrior (Curtis, 1928:183-184). 

The traders at Fort Belknap in the 1870s mentioned that he frequently brought in robes to 

trade; however, they do not identify him as a 
88 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

prominent headman (Fort Belknap Journal, 

1874-1879). In 1880, Agent Lincoln (NA, 1880) 

mentioned Running Fisher as one of the Gros 

Ventre "chiefs," but after Lincoln appointed 

Running Fisher captain of the Indian police in 

1881, Fisher is identified by the agent as "head 

chief" (U.S. Senate, 1883). 

Lame Bull also was a prominent warrior and 

an ex-Keeper of the Sacred Flat Pipe. He was 

widely recognized as a man of "good reputation," 

one selected to assist a newly formed age set, one 

who interceded in quarrels to prevent violence, 

and one who gave horses to families in need 

(Flannery, 1953, passim). 

In communications with the Indian Office, 

Agent Lincoln consistently represented Running 

Fisher as the tribal (intermediary) chief; yet, in 

councils in which all the Gros Ventres participated, Lame Bull is acknowledged by the Gros 

Ventres (including Running Fisher) as head chief 

For example, in 1886 when an inspector was sent 

from Washington to investigate conditions at Fort 

Belknap Reservation, Lame Bull and Running 

Fisher spoke on behalf of the tribe. Lame Bull 

was identified in the tribal council as intermediary chief and Running Fisher as captain of police; 

yet, in the subsequent report to the Commissioner, the inspector (NA, 1886) identifies Running Fisher as "head chief" and makes no mention of Lame Bull. On 12 August of the following 

year. Agent Fields and the agent for the Bloods 

arranged a peace council between the Bloods, 

and the Gros Ventres and Assiniboines of Fort 

Belknap. Lame Bull was acknowledged as "chief 

of the Gros Ventres." He stated, "All the young 

men obey me . . . . " Jerry Running Fisher also 

spoke: "I talk for the Indian Police. The chiefs 

will say something afterwards" (NA, 1887). Both 

Lame Bull and Running Fisher agreed that the 

tribe wanted to learn to farm and raise stock and 

to educate their children, and both men expressed 

willingness to cease horse raiding. Their rivalry 

appears to have been personal in nature. 

In the 1890s, the United States began to pressure the tribes at Fort Belknap to cede part of the 

Little Rockies, an area where trespassing miners 

were extracting gold. In 1894, the agent held a 

council with Gros Ventre and Assiniboine headmen and they unanimously decided not to cede 

the lands and to ask Agent Kelley to eject the 

miners. The tribes expressed the desire to learn to 

operate the mines themselves (Kelley, 1894:182). 

In view of the tribes' opposition to ceding the 

mining area, a delegation from Fort Belknap was 

invited to Washington to discuss the matter with 

Commissioner Browning. Running Fisher, Otter 

Robe, Sleeping Bear, and Sitting High represented the Gros Ventres. They voiced their anxiety about the proposed cession and about economic conditions at Fort Belknap. Federal officials apparently convinced the delegates that they 

would receive more aid to subsistence if they were 

agreeable to the cession, because in October 1895 

three of the four delegates agreed to cede the 

mountain area (NA, 1894a, 1894b). 

At the cession of 5-9 October 1895, the conflict 

between Running Fisher and Lame Bull came to 

a head. Lame Bull and his followers opposed 

giving up part of the Little Rockies, while Running Fisher's group agreed to the cession. During 

the proceedings, 64-year-old Lame Bull exclaimed, "Look at my hair; it is gray. I say the 

same thing as I said before. I don't want to sell." 

Then, 48-year-old Running Fisher attempted to 

link opposition to the cession with immaturity: 

"All the old people and these people that have 

good sense are willing to let the reservation go, 

but them young fellows are like children playing; 

they don't know what they are talking about." In 

point of fact, the difference of opinion did not 

correlate with age differences. What is particularly striking is the way that the speakers inverted 

the traditional symbols associated with old age 

and youth in order to sway public opinion. Elderly opponents are portrayed as foolish; youthful 

allies are said to be wise. Chaos reigned and the 

social friction was traumatic for the Gros Ventres. 

File Steel (Lame Bull's brother-in-law) commented, "My people have said many different 

ways, and I don't know which side to go ... . I 

don't know what to say . . . ." And Sleeping Bear 

said in distress, "Indians are talking all different 
NUMBER 30 89 

and I don't know what to do " (NA, 1895:10, 

25). 

Religious leaders had little ability to induce 

unanimity. Both the Feathered Pipe and the Flat 

Pipe keepers. Sitting High and Otter Robe, supported the cession; yet, the majority opposed it. 

Despite the Gros Ventres' belief that ritual authorities should be in agreement, the elderly leaders were in conflict with one another. For example, the Keeper of the Flat Pipe, Otter Robe, 

defied Lame Bull, an ex-Keeper of the Flat Pipe. 

When the vote was taken, 153 out of 181 adult 

male Assiniboines and 37 out of 153 Gros Ventres 

voted for the cession. There were just barely 

enough votes to satisfy the government that a 

majority of the Indians at Belknap favored the 

cession. Taking advantage of the remarks of Running Fisher's group (which were recorded in the 

transcript of the council meeting), the commissioners Pollock and Grinnell claimed to the Indian Office that the Gros Ventre opposition to 

the cession came from "rebellious youth." Not 

surprisingly, the loss of the Little Rockies area 

aggravated intratribal dissension among the Gros 

Ventres. Lame Bull's death in 1908 and the aging 

of Running Fisher lessened the conflict and facilitated the subsequent institutionalization of a 

business council, which had the support of the 

whole tribe. By this time, the withdrawal of elderly Gros Ventre ritual authorities from direct 

involvement in tribal politics was almost complete. 

Conclusions 

From accounts of federal officials and social 

scientists in the early twentieth century, it would 

appear that the Gros Ventres were, at that time, 

more biologically and culturally assimilated into 

White society than the Northern Arapahoes and 

that this accounts for the contrasts in their political histories. I have argued that the assimilationist approach is not adequate to explain the tribes' 

divergent patterns of political reorganization. 

First, conclusions about the supposed cultural 

assimilation of the Gros Ventres were based inappropriately on statistics that reported the 

extent of 6zo/o_^z<:(2/assimilation (Taylor, 1980: 

41-42). Moreover, judgments about differential 

cultural assimilation have been made rather arbitrarily: Arapahoes clearly embraced extensive 

ritual and political innovations, and Gros Ventres 

accommodated themselves to changes, such as 

the disappearance of native religious organization, without relinquishing a distinctly Gros 

Ventre world view and style of social interaction. 

In both tribes, most families in the 1920s had 

some income from wage work, tended gardens, 

raised hay, and some kept a few head of cattle. 

Arapahoe and Gros Ventre councilmen pressed 

the federal government for greater self-determination and for the same kinds of economic aid, 

although the Arapahoes gave more emphasis to 

their desire for the distribution of tribal income 

in per capita payments and the Gros Ventres 

(with less tribal income than the Arapahoes) 

stressed that individuals should be helped to finance their farms and ranches. Both peoples 

placed a high value on generosity to others; food 

and property acquired by an individual were 

shared or given away during tribal ceremonies. In 

both tribes, political authority was nondirective 

and decision-making was based on group consensus. In actuality, the most significant difference 

was that, in contrast to the Arapahoes, among 

the Gros Ventres elderly native religious leaders 

withdrew from political life in the early twentieth 

century; in fact, among the Gros Ventres, native 

religion was gradually replaced by Catholicism. 

Two factors brought about the difference between the ways that Arapahoes and Gros Ventres 

reorganized their political institutions. First, although both tribes had a traditional political 

organization based on age grading, which could 

mobilize and unify people from various band or 

kin groups, the Arapahoe age grades were supervised by tribal priests. Hence, the Arapahoes 

could contain conflict and restrain individualism 

more effectively than the Gros Ventres. For example, the struggle between Running Fisher and 

Chief Lame Bull has no counterpart among the 

Arapahoes. By the 1890s, the Gros Ventres ap-
90 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

parently saw no special role for elders in solving 

the difficult problems of reservation life. Second, 

contact conditions on the Northern Plains were 

different from those on the Central Plains: these 

differences affected political reorganization 

among the Gros Ventres and Arapahoes. The 

large numbers of emigrants who traveled the 

Oregon Trail through Arapahoe country brought 

about a drastic reduction of game and made it 

impossible for the tribe to continue to survive by 

hunting buffalo. The Arapahoes became dependent on the government for much of their subsistence twenty years earlier than did the Gros 

Ventres. The dependence on the government 

made intermediary chieftainship more important 

to the Arapahoes than to the Gros Ventres. Elderly Arapahoe priests worked to unify the people 

behind these chiefs so that the chiefs would be 

effective in dealing with federal officials. On the 

other hand, in Canada and on the Missouri and 

its tributaries, the Gros Ventres were involved in 

trading with Whites earlier and more intensively 

than were the Arapahoes who were more remote 

from the traders. In consequence, the Gros Ventre 

age grade system was disrupted by intertribal 

warfare and large population losses from epidemics far earlier than was the Arapahoe age grade 

system. Reservation settlement provided the conditions that revitalized the intermediary leadership role among the Gros Ventres and, at the 

same time, further undermined the authority of 

elders. Among the Arapahoes, the influence of 

the priests continued, reinforcing the authority of 

councilmen, on the one hand, and convincing 

Whites that Arapahoes did not have an efficient, 

"modern" tribal government, on the other. 

Literature Cited 

Berry, Edward E. 

1973. The Fort Belknap Indian Reservation: The First 

One Hundred Years, 1855-1955. Manuscript in 

the Special Collections, Montana State University 

Library, Bozeman. 

Burke, Lemuel 

1877. Diary. Manuscript in the collections of Montana 

State Historical Society Library, Helena. 

Campbell, J.A. 

1869. Letter Books. Entry for 29 November 1869. Historical Research and Publications Division, Wyoming State Archives and Historical Department, 

Cheyenne. 

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1932 

United 

1874 

1891 

Upson, 

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Survey of Conditions of Indians in the United States. 

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States, Statutes at Large 

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26 Stat. 794-795: Act of February 28, 1891, 51st 

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Blackfeet Agency. In Report to the Commissioner of 

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, George 

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History and Identification of Blood Bands 

Hugh A. Dempsey 

ABSTRACT 

The history of band organization of the Blood 

Indians is presented, especially characterizing 

how the Bloods maintained their traditional band 

structure until well into the reservation period. 

The Blood Indians are part of the Blackfootspeaking nation, which historically inhabited the 

area from the upper Missouri River in Montana 

to the north Saskatchewan River in Alberta. A 

typical Northern Plains tribe, they had a buffalo 

economy until they were obliged to settle on their 

reservation in southern Alberta in 1880. 

Like other Northern Plains tribes, the Bloods 

were divided into a number of smaller units for 

the purpose of hunting and food gathering. At 

certain times of the year, such as in winter or if 

the buffalo were plentiful in a particular area, all 

or most of the tribe might be found camped in 

one area. Within the large assemblage of tipis, 

the internal organization of individual bands was 

clearly defined. Similarly, when the tribe gathered together in a huge circle for the Sun Dance, 

each band had its designated position, with those 

from the northern part of the hunting grounds on 

the north side of the circle and the others in the 

south. 

George Bird Grinnell, an invaluable recorder 

of the Blackfeet, stated that each of the tribes was 

"subdivided into gentes, a gens being a body of 

Hugh A. Dempsey, Glenbow Museum, 9th Avenue and 1st Streets, 

SE., Calgary, Alberta, Canada T2G 0P3. 

consanguineal kindred in the male line" (Grinnell, 1892:208). However, this simple definition 

does not fit the historic realities of the Blackfoot 

nation. While perhaps the gens was the nucleus 

of individual bands, there were so many exceptions to the rule that the description can hardly 

apply. Rather, Lowie's (1954:87) definition that 

the first subdivision of a Plains tribe was a band, 

or "a local group of people jointly wandering in 

search of sustenance," is more appropriate. 

The band was, of course, nothing more than a 

functional unit. It was small enough to provide a 

viable economic base for its members yet large 

enough to permit the development of certain 

religious and social amenities, such as warrior 

societies, medicine pipe rituals, and gambling. 

Unlike their neighbouring Woodland tribes, who 

had to travel in small family units because of the 

solitary nature of the animals they hunted, the 

Bloods were able to form relatively large bands 

because of the availability of the herd-oriented 

buffalo. Yet the sizes of the bands often depended 

upon their particular economic situation. In 1855, 

for example, James Doty (1966:24) noted that the 

main camp of Bloods consisted of some 200 

lodges, while the destitute Hairy Shirt band, 

which still used dogs as their main beasts of 

burden, had only 18 lodges. The larger camp, 

combining the Followers of the Buffalo and the 

Fish Eaters bands, could congregate in such large 

numbers because it was autumn, the buffalo 

herds were plentiful in their region, and the camp 

could easily move when the horses had consumed 

the grass within the immediate area of the camp. 

The poor Hairy Shirts, on the other hand, were 

hampered by their lack of mobility, both in hunt94 
NUMBER 30 95 

ing and travel. Yet each group was able to function within its prescribed limits. 

Flexibility was the key to the success of the 

band system. Each band was flexible in size, 

structure, and movements. Within the course of 

a year, a band might join with another band for 

several months, divide because of intraband controversy, move northward to join the Blackfeet if 

the buffalo were more plentiful in that region, or 

winter with the Piegans because of family relationships. Similarly, if a band became too large, 

it might split into two bands. This happened in 

the 1870s when the Many Children broke off 

from the Many Fat Horses band. If disease or 

warfare should decimate a band, it could easily 

amalgamate with another and ultimately lose its 

identity. A good example is the Bear People band, 

which became involved in a battle with their 

fellow Blackfeet and, after the leaders were killed, 

the remainder of the tiny group fled to the Fish 

Eaters and were absorbed by them. 

The variations were numerous. There was even 

one situation where two members of the Fish 

Eaters band. Scalp Robe and The Duck, gathered 

a strong family unit around them. It had all the 

appearances of a new band and, because the two 

men walked quickly like pacing horses, the group 

was known as the Pacer Fish Eaters. Yet neither 

man wanted to separate from the parent band, so 

their followers remained with the Fish Eaters— 

almost a separate band, but not quite. 

The Blood bands, as such, had no taboos or 

restrictions as did the warrior and religious societies. The practice of marrying within a band was 

frowned upon, not because of any band taboo, 

but because the couple was probably related. As 

one informant (Charlie Pantherbone, 1960 pers. 

comm.) stated: "Two persons from the same band 

cannot marry. The leading man was usually the 

father of all the members, so he did not want his 

children to marry each other." 

On the other hand, if the band member was 

an orphan adopted from another band, a widow 

who had remained in her husband's band after 

his death, a young man who had come to work as 

a herder, or one of the many nonrelatives to be 

found in a band, then the restriction did not 

apply. One of my informants, for example, had 

been born into the All Tall People band but had 

been raised by his maternal grandmother, a Fish 

Eater, and later married a Fish Eater. The band 

affiliation was not important; the blood relationship was. 

As a matter of fact, a humorous situation developed among the wealthy Fish Eaters band, as 

described by an informant (Pantherbone, 1960, 

pers. comm.): "There are those we called the Sikawk-oh-mi-yowi or Roundabout Fish Eaters," he 

said. "This referred to men from other bands who 

were adopted into the Fish Eaters and later married someone from the band. They became Fish 

Eaters by a roundabout or devious route." 

Grinnell's (1892:208) definition, cited earlier, 

that the Blood bands were patrilocal was also 

supported by The Reverend John Maclean 

(1895:251) who said, "The wife goes with her 

husband to his gens and lives there with him"; 

yet here again, field research indicated that exceptions were almost as common as the norm. In 

fact, a matrilocal practice appeared to be quite 

common where the girl was from a more affluent 

band and particularly if her father was a chief 

For example, a Blood named Bull Shield joined 

his wife's band, the Scabbies, and became its 

leader when his father-in-law died in 1878. Another man, Running Rabbit, was a Black Elk but 

joined the Fish Eaters when he married the favorite daughter of the chief of that band. In later 

years, he was recognized as a subchief of the 

group and was appointed a treaty chief by the 

Canadian government. 

When one examines the family of Red Crow, 

the wealthy head chief of the Blood tribe and 

leader of the Fish Eaters, the movement of young 

men to his band is evident. Crop Eared Wolf, a 

member of the Many Children, joined the Fish 

Eaters in the 1840s when his sister married Red 

Crow and he later became its leader; Sleeps On 

Top, Yellow Creek, and Medicine Pipe Stem 

transferred from the All Tall People when their 

sister married Red Crow; and No Chief and 

Many Mules joined when they married daughters 
96 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

of the chief. As my informant, Pantherbone (1960, 

pers. comm.) stated: 

If a man marries, it is his choice as to the band with 

which they will live. If a man from the Black Elks married 

a Fish Eater and decided to move to her band, he is 

transferred and is then considered to be a Fish Eater. He 

will usually make a choice which is most advantageous to 

him. One woman, who married a man from another band, 

had a younger brother. When she moved to her husband's 

band, she took her brother with her. When this boy grew up 

and married he could, if he wished, go back to his original 

band with his wife, he could take her to his sister's husband's 

band, or he could go to his wife's band. This situation 

frequently occurred among the Bloods. 

These movements among bands were governed 

largely by the economic and social position of the 

groups in question. If a wealthy band was noted 

for its war record and its preoccupation with 

horse raiding; if it possessed a shaman who consistently brought good luck to the band in hunting; or if the political leadership of a band placed 

it in a favored position, young men would be 

encouraged to join its ranks either upon marriage, 

as a relative of the bride, or even as herders. 

External forces that affected the economy or 

status of a band could also have significant effects. 

In the 1840s, when the chief factor (i.e., man in 

charge of the trading post) of the American Fur 

Co. married the sister of Seen From Afar, the Fish 

Eaters' chief, his band was immediately placed in 

a special status. "One reason Seen From Afar was 

chief," said an informant (Percy Creighton, 1954, 

pers. comm.), "was that his brother-in-law, Mr. 

Culbertson, used to give him all kinds of gifts and 

made him the richest warrior among the Bloods." 

Similarly, in 1883 when the Indian agent appointed a man named Calf Tail, a nonentity, as 

a head chief of the tribe in order to thwart the 

efforts of a war chief who aspired to that position, 

many Bloods flocked to the new band. Realizing 

that the leader was a government appointee, they 

expected to share in the favors they believed 

would be forthcoming. Ironically, Calf Tail died 

within a few weeks of his appointment, leaving 

the band without their expected windfall, so they 

were jokingly dubbed the Orphans. 

The status of a band usually rested with the 

reputation or prowess of its leader. By and large, 

the chiefs are the ones who are remembered as 

important 19th-century figures; even if someone 

gained a reputation as a warrior or shaman, he 

was more likely to be recalled if this ability had 

enabled him to become a chief of his band. 

While hereditary leadership was not mandatory among the Bloods, usually a son, brother, or 

son-in-law took control upon the death of a chief 

However, because of the flexibility of the band 

system, the selection was made by the band members themselves, either by consensus or through a 

direct vote. If no consensus could be reached, a 

candidate might state that he was moving camp 

the following morning; this would force members 

of the band to decide whether to go with him or 

to remain with one of the other aspirants. Often 

two contenders might be brothers, such as occurred in 1870 when Black Bear, leader of the 

Fish Eaters, died in a smallpox epidemic, and 

both Red Crow and his brother Sheep Old Man 

aspired to the position. When Red Crow observed 

that public opinion was favoring him, he announced he was moving, and those who were 

undecided finally chose to follow the majority 

and go with him. 

Yet a family relationship was not the only 

criterion in selecting a new chief As George 

Simpson noted in 1841: "The office of Chief is 

often hereditary, but his birth alone, uncombined 

with talent or bravery, does not secure any consideration in the tribe, & the son of the most 

powerful Chief would, if unendowed with these 

qualities, sink into perfect insignificance & contempt, being what the Indians very emphatically 

term 'pitiful'." Simpson further noted that the 

chieftainship was not a lifetime appointment, but 

was valid only as long as the man was capable of 

leading the band. "When the first symptoms of 

old age creep upon him, he very wisely abdicates 

(to avoid being dismissed more brusquely) in 

favor of his son or some other successor." 

Such a resignation was noted by a fur trader in 

1794 (M'Gillivray, 1934:50), when The Swan, a 

leading Blackfoot chief, was "worn out with age 

and disability" and was "forced to resign his 
NUMBER 30 97 

place." The leadership was passed on to an apparent nonrelative, Gross Blanc, whom the trader 

described as "a man of unfounded ambition and 

ferocity." 

Informants knew of a number of instances 

where the chief resigned to pass the title along to 

a younger man, usually a son or brother. Two 

Suns turned the leadership of the Fish Eaters over 

to his son, Seen From Afar, in the 1840s; Fish 

Child gave up his leadership of the Many Fat 

Horses in favor of his brother. Many Spotted 

Horses in the 1850s; and Blackfoot Old Woman 

became chief of the Black Elks while its former 

leader. Eagle Head, was still alive. 

One of the obvious reasons why the leadership 

often passed down to a relative was that the 

majority of those who were prominent in the 

band were closely related. The eldest son or 

younger brother was privy to the daily routines 

and responsibilities of leadership and had the 

opportunity to become personally acquainted 

with the elite within the tribe, or the nation, thus 

placing him in a favored position for wielding 

political influence. 

There is no tradition of violence ever erupting 

because of a dispute over leadership. Even during 

the perilous half decade from 1869 to 1874, when 

whiskey had unrestricted sale in Blackfoot country and intratribal conflicts were common, leadership controversy was never a factor. This can 

be attributed to the democratic nature of the 

band system; no chief had dictatorial control over 

his followers, even in times of war. If a Blood was 

dissatisfied with the leadership being provided, 

he could simply move to another band or, if he 

had his own following, create his own band. A 

dictatorial chief would soon discover that he had 

no following. 

The successful chief usually possessed a number 

of positive qualities. He was generous, a good 

provider, and was often wealthy. He had a good 

war record and was frequently a ceremonialist, 

orator, and diplomat. Not every leader was gifted 

with all of these attributes, but certain men were 

remembered because they may have excelled in 

one or more. Medicine Calf, leader of the Many 

Tumors, was a noted orator; Calf Shirt of the 

Lone Fighters was a warrior of repute; Many 

Spotted Horses of the Many Fat Horses band was 

extremely wealthy; and White Calf of the Marrows was a leading ceremonialist and orator. 

Seen From Afar, the Fish Eaters' leader, was 

considered to be particularly effective, drawing 

to his band a large number of nonrelatives because of his wealth, war record, and political 

influence. As one informant (Creighton, 1954, 

pers. comm.) described him: 

Seen From Afar was a generous man. When the Bloods 

went out hunting buffalo, some of the men would not have 

the proper horses, maybe just a couple of old pack animals. 

They would go to Seen From Afar and say: "May I use one 

of your horses to hunt buffalo?" And Seen From Afar would 

answer, "Sure, take that one over there." When the man 

came back after the hunt he would take the horse and plenty 

of meat to Seen From Afar's lodge, but instead of accepting 

the meat, the chief would say, "Keep it. I have enough of 

my own. And use my horse whenever you need it to go 

hunting." When he went to war. Seen From Afar would go 

on raid after raid. Instead of returning to his home camp 

after making a successful raid, he would send some young 

boys back with the captured horses and give them to his 

wives to put in his herd. 

The Bloods did not have a head chief of the 

tribe, per se, which was always confusing to White 

traders and travellers. Just as the democratic 

system worked in selecting a band chief, so did 

the overall leadership of a mixed camp, or of the 

entire tribe, vary according to the circumstances. 

If the Bloods went into a winter camp, with a 

number of bands strung out along a river valley, 

one leader among them was probably recognized 

above the others for his influence, tact, or diplomacy. It became his unspoken responsibility to 

send out criers to call council meetings as often as 

was required for the good government of the 

camp. The men smoked, drank tea, and discussed 

matters in an informal way, usually resolving any 

problem by consensus rather than by decree. If 

the matter could not be resolved, the leading 

chief would weigh the political mood of the meeting and either make a firm decision or put the 

matter in abeyance. If any chief did not agree 

with the decision, he was free to move his camp. 
98 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

During the course of the winter, should the 

Bloods be joined by several other bands, among 

which was a chief with more influence than the 

one presiding, the new arrival would assume leadership of the council. These arrangements were 

usually informal and without rancor for, not surprisingly, many of the chiefs as part of the tribal 

elite were related through marriage. If a chief was 

jealous of his position, he would simply avoid 

camping with anyone to whom he might be 

obliged to take a secondary role. 

There were, of course, instances when two leading chiefs might clash. Among the Blackfeet, 

Crowfoot superseded the elder Old Sun as the 

leading chief of the tribe and at a council meeting 

the decision was made that the two men would 

travel together to hunt buffalo after the Sun 

Dance. However, Old Sun decided to leave before 

the end of the ceremonies and was leading his 

wife's travois from the camp when Crowfoot tried 

to detain him forcibly by shooting at the horse. 

Old Sun, however, defied Crowfoot and left 

(Dempsey, 1972:68-69). 

Among the Bloods, the political chiefs in ranking order of importance immediately prior to the 

1877 treaty with the Canadian government were 

Red Crow, Father Of Many Children, Medicine 

Calf, and Many Spotted Horses. Opinions of 

informants varied according to their own band 

affiliations, but all agreed on the top four leaders. 

When camped, whether as a single band or the 

whole tribe, the political chief had control over 

the warrior societies. To them he designated the 

responsibility for guarding the camp, controlling 

the buffalo hunts, maintaining internal order, 

and protecting the group while on the trail. 

Once instructed, the warrior societies had authoritarian control within prescribed limits, and 

even the band chiefs were not above their commands. For example, once when the Piegans were 

hunting, a herd was sighted and instructions were 

given that no one was to go hunting until the 

following day. This was to give everyone a chance 

to prepare his horses and gear. A short time later, 

a warrior society patrol came across the leader of 

the Lone Fighters band with a dead buffalo. He 

tried to claim that the laws did not apply to him, 

but the warriors stripped him of his clothes, took 

his horse, and made him walk seven miles back 

to camp. Upon his arrival, his horse was returned, 

but his blankets were destroyed and the rest of 

his equipment retained by the warriors (Maclean, 

1895:254-255). 

The control of the warrior societies by the 

political chief applied only during times of peace. 

Should a situation develop where the camp was 

suddenly in danger from enemy war parties, a 

person who was renowned for his war experience 

took over the direction of the camp and the 

warrior societies. Usually the man was a band 

chief, but not always. So well known were these 

warriors that the change of command in an emergency situation was swift and unquestioned. Two 

of the leading war chiefs of the Bloods during the 

late nomadic period were Medicine Calf and 

White Calf Even such leaders as Red Crow and 

Father Of Many Children, informally recognized 

by the traders as head chiefs of the tribe, would 

be relegated to band chief status and under the 

direction of the war chief during periods of danger. 

There were five major bands in the Blood tribe 

and thirteen minor bands, each of the latter 

having a direct relationship with a major band. 

The leading bands were the Followers of the 

Buffalo {Ini'-poy-i), Fish Eaters {Mam-yow'-i), 

Lone Fighters (Ni-tai'ks-ka), Many Tumors 

(Aka'ks-sumaks), and Black Elks (Siksi'n-oka). Owing their allegiance to the Followers of the Buffalo 

were the Many Fat Horses (Awa'-poso-otas), Many 

Children (Aka'-poka), Marrows (Ipa-ki'ni-ma), All 

Tall People (Mu-ti'-spita), Knife Owners {Neta'ksisto-waniks), All Short People (Mu-ti'k-uks), and 

All Black Faces (Mutay'-siks-ki). Related to the 

Fish Eaters were the Six Mouths (Na-oy'-i), Shooting Up (Us-po'ki-omiks), Many Brown Weasels 

(Aw-kow'-ta), Bear People (Ky'-yo-tapi), and Hairy 

Shirts (Isi'-so-kas). With the Many Tumors were 

the Scabbies (A'pi-kaks). Neither the Lone 

Fighters nor the Black Elks had any affiliates. 

Two additional bands were formed after the 

Bloods settled on their reserve: the Orphans 
NUMBER 30 99 

(Imuks-ay'k-ni), from the Followers of the Buffalo; 

and the Crooked Backs (Namo-pi'si), from the 

Many Tumors. 

Of the major bands and their affiliates, the 

Followers of the Buffalo was undoubtedly the 

largest and for many years the most influential. 

The earliest known leader was Bull Back Fat who 

was described in 1833 by George Catlin (1926, 

1:33) as "the head chief of the Blackfeet nation; 

he is a good-looking and dignified Indian, about 

fifty years of age." After a quarter century of 

warfare between the Blackfeet and the Americans 

following the Lewis and Clark Expedition, Bull 

Back Fat was the man who finally established 

peace in 1832. He later permitted the American 

Fur Co. to construct Fort Piegan on the Upper 

Missouri and added to his own influence when 

his daughter married one of the traders. After the 

chiefs death in 1842, the leadership of the Followers of the Buffalo was taken by his son, also 

known as Bull Back Fat. 

The domination of the Blood tribe by the 

Followers of the Buffalo began to erode during 

the late 1840s. This was due in part to the change 

in leadership and to the fact that Seen From Afar 

became chief of the rival Fish Eaters band. Not 

only was the new leader a flamboyant man with 

an enviable war record, but about the same time 

as he assumed leadership, his sister. Holy Snake, 

married the chief trader of the American Fur Co., 

Alexander Culbertson. The combination of Seen 

From Afar's aggressive leadership and his influence with the traders soon tipped the balance of 

power away from the Followers of the Buffalo. 

At the signing of the treaty with the American 

government at Judith River in 1855, Bull Back 

Fat and Seen From Afar were recognized as the 

two leading chiefs of the tribe, but the latter was 

given the signal honor of being the first to sign 

the document. 

One of the problems experienced by the Followers of the Buffalo was that some of the bands 

that had separated from it had exerted such 

independence that they could not be counted 

upon for support in tribal political matters. For 

example. Many Spotted Horses of the Many Fat 

Horses band considered himself to be equal in 

stature to Bull Back Fat. He was one of the signers 

of the 1855 treaty and later, when he was drawn 

into a dispute within his own band, he abandoned 

it and took over the leadership of the Lone 

Fighters, a non-Followers of the Buffalo group. 

Furthermore, when the second Bull Back Fat 

died, the leadership of the band was taken by his 

son-in-law. Father Of Many Children, but the 

chief's nephew, the third Bull Back Fat, disputed 

the choice and separated with a number of followers to form the All Short People band. Needless to say, this group was not a supporter of the 

parent band. 

Meanwhile, the Fish Eaters were able to maintain the allegiance of all its offshoot bands. In 

fact, the Many Brown Weasels and Six Mouths 

often travelled with the Fish Eaters, while the 

Bear People were ultimately absorbed back into 

the parent band. 

By the time the Bloods gathered on the Bow 

River in 1877 to negotiate a treaty with the 

Canadian government, the Followers of the Buffalo were still numerically the largest band in the 

tribe, but its leader. Father Of Many Children, 

was ineffectual and so old that he had to be 

carried about on a travois. Many people considered his son. Hind Bull, to be a likely successor to 

the position, but the old man had been unwilling 

to resign. The Fish Eaters, on the other hand, 

were led by 47-year-old Red Crow. 

The government recognized Father Of Many 

Children and Red Crow as the two chiefs of the 

tribe, but when the former declined the position 

of treaty head chief. Red Crow astutely arranged 

for it to be offered to a patriarch. Rainy Chief, 

who was a leader of one of the Fish Eaters' 

offshoot bands. Accordingly, Red Crow for all 

practical purposes became the sole head chief of 

the tribe. 

Red Crow further consolidated his position 

when the treaty money was distributed. Each 

chief was asked to identify the members of his 

band so their names could be written on the 

paysheets and their money given out. The Followers of the Buffalo and their offshoot bands all 
100 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

came forward separately, each being recognized 

as a distinct band. The Followers of the Buffalo 

were recorded as having 118 followers, the All 

Short People 210 followers, Marrows 107, and All 

Tall People 167. Altogether they had 602 people 

but they were listed under five chiefs. 

Red Crow would not permit his followers to 

become fractionalized. Probably with the consent 

of his offshoot band chiefs, he appeared as the 

sole leader of the Fish Eaters, Six Mouths, Shooting Up, and Many Brown Weasels, totaling 304 

persons, while his fellow "head" chief. Rainy 

Chief, appeared with his 51 members of the Hairy 

Shirts. Then, after the payments had been made. 

Red Crow pointed out that there were a number 

of men who should sign the treaty, but who had 

no bands. Obligingly, the commissioners permitted One Spot, White Striped Dog, and Moon, the 

chiefs of the three offshoot bands, to sign and be 

appointed treaty chiefs. 

In these deft series of moves, the Fish Eaters 

and their supporters ended up with a full complement of chiefs but Red Crow gave the appearance of leading the largest single band in the 

tribe. With these kinds of statistics on the paysheets. Red Crow's position as primary head chief 

was henceforth unquestioned by government authorities, and the Fish Eaters remained the dominant group until the decline of the band system. 

The practice of giving distinctive names to the 

various bands was not unique to the Bloods. It 

was popular among a number of other tribes, 

including the adjacent Blackfoot, Piegan, Sarcee, 

Gros Ventre, and Crow tribes. In most instances, 

the names were unique, coined as the result of an 

incident or characteristic. The only name that 

appeared to have common usage was Lone 

Fighters, which also existed among the Piegans 

and Gros Ventres. A distinctive feature of the 

Bloods was a tendency to name bands after the 

physical appearance of its members, i.e., All Black 

Faces, All Short People, All Tall People. None of 

the other tribes of the Blackfoot nation followed 

this practice. 

There are traditions explaining the origin of 

most band names with the notable exception of 

the Followers of the Buffalo. All informants 

agreed that the name was "very old" and if it had 

been coined as the result of some event or incident, this had been forgotten. It adds support to 

the supposition that this band was the most ancient in the tribe and may even have been the 

core group from which all others had originated. 

The Fish Eaters' name was derived from an 

incident that occurred when the group had wintered on the Highwood River. When spring 

storms prevented them from reaching the buffalo 

on the plains, they were forced to subsist on fish, 

even though the Blackfoot tribes abhored this 

form of food. Informants who were members of 

the band considered the name to be a tribute to 

the band's survival, but others believed it to be 

derogatory, similar to the Gopher Eaters of the 

Piegan (Many Guns, 1954, pers. comm.) and the 

Filth Eaters of the Crow (Lowie, 1917:53). 

The three bands named after the physical appearance of its members (All Short People, All 

Tall People, and All Black Faces) were offshoots 

of the Followers of the Buffalo. The terms apparently were appropriate; Bull Back Fat, the primary leader of the All Short People, was a particularly small man, as was his brother. Little 

Ears, who took over in 1892. A descendent described Bull Back Fat as "the smallest of the 

chiefs, but he was tough and well known as a 

warrior" (John Cotton, 1954, pers. comm.). 

Similarly, the All Tall People were named for 

their physical stature, with one informant stating 

that even the women were taller than average. 

This group was led by two brothers. Eagle Shoe 

and Morning Writing. 

The All Black Faces were named because their 

leader. Morning Chief, had an exceptionally dark 

complexion. An offshoot of the All Short People, 

it was never close to the parent Followers of the 

Buffalo, and in 1880, when the members were 

moving to the reservation, its new leader. Day 

Chief, allied his band with the Fish Eaters. This 

action was rewarded eight years later when he 

was appointed head chief of the tribe on the 

recommendation of Red Crow. 

Two other bands whose titles related to a phys-
NUMBER 30 101 

ical condition were the Many Tumors and the 

Scabbies. The former was said to have been 

named because its members complained of feeling 

"living things" in their stomachs. Another version 

was that the name was derived from scabs in their 

mouths (Legal, 1897). The leader of the band was 

Medicine Calf, who was known to the Whites as 

Button Chief He was an outstanding leader, and, 

at the time of settling on the reservation, he was 

considered to be the primary war chief of the 

tribe. He was particularly remembered as the 

only leader to try to negotiate a better deal for 

the Bloods at their treaty with the Canadian 

government in 1877. After his death in 1884, the 

band was taken over by his brother. Strangling 

Wolf 

The origin of the name for the Scabbies band 

is in doubt. According to one version, they were 

named because of a prevalence of skin diseases in 

the band, but another version states that the title 

reflected their laziness in producing poorly 

tanned (i.e., scabby) hides. A small band, it was 

under the leadership of Weasel Bull at the 1877 

treaty and later was led by his son-in-law. Bull 

Shield. The Scabbies were constantly overshadowed by their parent band, the Many Tumors, 

and after they settled on their reservation, they 

gradually lost their identity to them. 

Most band names were descriptive, often based 

upon some incident. For example, the Hairy 

Shirts were named because one of their members. 

Wood Traveller, wore a shirt made from the skin 

of a buffalo calf, from which the hair had not 

been removed. Led by Rainy Chief, it was said to 

have been the poorest band in the tribe and drew 

to it persons from other bands who lacked horses 

and could not keep up with the tribe's constant 

travels. Balancing the negative aspects of the 

band's economic status was Rainy Chiefs reputation as a holy man. He was considered by 

missionaries to have been the first Blood leader 

to embrace Christianity, but informants claim he 

was simply trying to obtain some of the supernatural power that he believed the White man 

possessed. After the death of Rainy Chief in 1878, 

the leadership was taken by his eldest son, White 

Antelope, and the band later amalgamated with 

the parent Fish Eaters. 

The Six Mouths, another Fish Eaters' offshoot, 

was named when its leader. Good Sun, received 

a revolver from traders at Fort Edmonton. When 

he returned to the tribe he said, "The Big White 

Chief in the north gave me this gun with six 

mouths" (John Low Horn, 1954, pers. comm.). 

One Spot became the leader after his father died 

and at thirty-one he was the youngest signer of 

the Canadian treaty. 

Similarly, the Many Brown Weasels were always close to the Fish Eaters. The band was 

named because its leader. Moon, wore a brown 

weasel skin in his hair. 

Another Fish Eater affiliate, the Shooting Up, 

received its name as a reflection of the disdain 

that others had for the group. The leader. Left 

Hand, had the reputation of being a rebellious 

and recalcitrant man who would not heed the 

dictates of his own tribe. On one occasion, when 

the Bloods were at peace with the Crees, Left 

Hand led a small party to attack that tribe. On 

his return, he was pursued by infuriated Crees; 

but when he tried to organize a large force to 

attack them, the elders forcibly restrained him. In 

anger. Left Hand showed his contempt by firing 

his gun in the air. As a result, his followers were 

dubbed the Shooting Up band. As the name 

implies, the band was not a popular one and 

during the reservation period it was frequently 

involved with interband squabbles. In the entire 

tribe, the Many Children was considered to be 

the most obstinate, with the Shooting Up following a close second. 

The Bear People, another Fish Eaters' offshoot, 

would likely have qualified as another undesirable band had it survived to the reservation period. 

The earliest known leaders were brothers. Many 

Shot and Young Sun, and the name was reputedly given because so many of the members had 

the word "bear" in their names, i.e.. Going to the 

Bear, White Bear, Bear Woman. 

During the whiskey trading era in the early 

1870s, the Bear People were notorious for robbing 

fellow members of the nation. In about 1872, they 
102 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

killed a Blackfoot for his whiskey, and when 

members of another band mistakenly believed 

that their chief had been slain, they attacked the 

Bear People, killing many of the men in the 

camp. Many White Horses, a survivor and 

younger brother of the dead chiefs, became the 

new leader but most of the remnants of the band 

were absorbed into the Fish Eaters. 

Among the Followers of the Buffalo offshoot 

bands, the Many Fat Horses was one of the oldest 

and, during the mid-19th century, one of the 

largest. The name was simply a reflection of the 

wealth of its members. 

The earliest known leader was a man named 

Fish Child who relinquished the position to his 

brother Many Spotted Horses in the 1850s. During the winter of 1859-60, the band was torn with 

dissension when the retired chief became involved 

in a family dispute with another brother. Hind 

Bull, who was considered to be a subchief of the 

band. The discord finally erupted into a fight 

near Rocky Mountain House, in which the two 

brothers killed each other. 

Many Spotted Horses, who was left as the sole 

chief of the band, was noted for his wealth in 

horses and by the size of his household. In 1855 

he was said to have had twenty-three wives, 

keeping eleven in one lodge and twelve in another. At the 1877 treaty his family was recorded 

at ten women and thirty-one children. 

With this personal following, Many Spotted 

Horses became more and more independent of 

the parent Followers of the Buffalo and when, in 

1871, his band was involved in a bloody dispute 

with the Many Children band, he simply abandoned it and went to his mother's band, the Lone 

Fighters, where he eventually became their chief 

Those who did not follow him went to the Many 

Children, and the Many Fat Horses virtually 

ceased to exist. 

The Many Children, although an offshoot of 

the Many Fat Horses, appeared to have had more 

of an allegiance to the Followers of the Buffalo 

than did their own band chief The Many Children were aptly named, for they were formed by 

a man named Not Afraid Of The Gros Ventres, 

who had ten wives and sixty children. 

From the beginning, the Many Children had 

the reputation of being wild and unmanageable, 

not in a warrior sense, but in tribal and domestic 

affairs. The split with the Many Fat Horses occurred when a son-in-law of Not Afraid Of The 

Gros Ventres became a favorite of Many Spotted 

Horses and gained the jealousy and ill will of his 

brothers-in-law. One day, when he went to the 

Many Children camp, he was attacked by the 

family and before he was killed he had slain Not 

Afraid Of The Gross Ventres and two sons. 

The ensuing scandal caused the Many Children, now under the leadership of a son named 

Running Wolf, to become alienated from their 

fellow Bloods. A year later, they became involved 

in a dispute with members of the All Tall People 

band, resulting in a number of deaths on both 

sides. A trader during that period commented (in 

Graham, 1956:17): 

At one time they numbered twenty-eight lodges, approximately between fifty and sixty fighting men. A feud broke 

out between them and another branch of the same tribe and 

at the time I speak of the [Many Chidren] had been reduced 

to two lodges and the survivors had taken refuge in the 

South Piegan camp. 

They remained separated from the Bloods until 

the extermination of the buffalo forced them to 

settle on their reservation in 1880. As a result. 

Running Wolf was not at the Canadian treaty 

and was not recognized as a chief until a year 

after he had come home. And even after they 

were on their reservation, the Many Children 

were an unruly lot. "They were a wild bunch," 

said one informant (Harry Mills, 1953, pers. 

comm.), "and gradually they all got killed off, 

mostly by the Bloods themselves." "Even today," 

said another (Goldfrank, 1939), "the women in 

the Many Children band are like men and want 

their own way in everything. You can't tell them 

anything. They are wild and run with many 

men." 

The Marrows, also a Followers of the Buffalo 

offshoot, was named because of their fondness for 

buffalo marrow. The only known leader was 

White Calf, who was also one of the leading war 
NUMBER 30 103 

chiefs of the tribe. He was a candidate for head 

chief in 1883, but, because of his warlike attitudes 

and his hatred for Whites, he was effectively 

blocked by the Indian agent. Two years later he 

attempted to amalgamate the remnants of the 

Followers of the Buffalo under his leadership, but 

again the action was not sanctioned. In disgust, 

White Calf, with a number of his followers, 

moved to the South Piegan Reservation in Montana in 1891. Although they later returned, the 

band had become so fractionalized that many of 

the members joined the neighboring Fish Eaters. 

Another Followers of the Buffalo offshoot was 

the Knife Owners, a small group that had separated during the late nomadic period. At the 

nucleus of the band was its leader. Chief Standing 

In The Middle, and his eight sons. On one occasion when he was at a trading post, the leader 

bought new knives for all his boys and the band 

name was born. A small group, it remained relatively independent and for a time was part of the 

ill-fated Orphans band. 

The Lone Fighters, one of the bands that was 

independent of both the Fish Eaters and the 

Followers of the Buffalo, had two of its leaders. 

Iron Collar and Calf Shirt, present to sign the 

1855 American treaty. According to tradition, the 

band was named when Iron Collar returned from 

a successful raid after hearing complaints about 

squabbling within his band. "You have been 

calling us quarrellers," he said. "Very well, from 

now on we shall be known as the Quarrellers or 

Lone Fighters" (Jim White Bull, 1954, pers. 

comm.). 

After the death of Iron Collar, Calf Shirt became the sole leader of the band during the 1850s 

and 1860s, after which time he was joined by 

Many Spotted Horses. Calf Shirt was an influential leader, but under the influence of alcohol 

he was so uncontrollable that he was nicknamed 

Miniksi, or "wild man." He killed a number of his 

own people while drunk, but his personal foibles 

were more than overshadowed by his tactical 

leadership in war. He was the foremost war chief 

of the tribe, and in 1865 he led a raid that wiped 

out the budding town of Ophir, Montana. After 

he was killed by whiskey traders in 1874, Many 

Spotted Horses became the sole leader of the 

Lone Fighters and signed the 1877 treaty on their 

behalf 

The Black Elks were the other independent 

band of the nomadic era. The origin of its name 

is in doubt, one informant claiming it was a 

variation of the name Elk Anus band, because its 

members preferred to eat the rear haunches of 

the animal. Others claimed the name was derived 

from black Hudson's Bay blankets or from a darkskinned leader who wore an elkskin robe (Maclean, 1895:255). 

The nomadic leader was Eagle Head, who was 

joined by the younger Blackfoot Old Woman and 

given chieftainship status after the 1877 treaty. 

Bitterly opposed to the Fish Eaters, Blackfoot Old 

Woman aspired to the official head chieftainship 

of the entire tribe but was constantly turned aside 

by Red Crow. He apparently had the support of 

the Many Tumors, Scabbies, and some of the 

Followers of the Buffalo offshoots, but not until 

1907, seven years after Red Crow's death, was he 

finally given the coveted head chieftainship. During much of the reservation period, however, 

Blackfoot Old Woman was a de facto head chief 

and spokesman for the anti-Fish Eaters' faction 

on the reservation. 

When the Bloods were forced to abandon their 

nomadic existence in 1880 and to settle on their 

reservation, they camped along a 25-mile stretch 

of the Belly River, just as though they were going 

into their winter quarters. This time, however, 

there was no spring departure, and as cottonwood 

cabins replaced leather tipis, the settlements took 

on an air of permanence. For the next twenty 

years, the reservation gave the bands a sense of 

structure and identity that had been unknown in 

the past. At the farthest point upriver were the 

Fish Eaters, followed in descending order by the 

Followers of the Buffalo, Shooting Up, Marrows, 

Many Brown Weasels, All Black Faces, more Fish 

Eaters, Lone Fighters, Many Children, Hairy 

Shirts, Knife Owners, All Tall People, Many 

Tumors, Scabbies, Black Elks, and All Short People. Later, when Day Chief was appointed head 
104 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

chief of the downriver bands, he moved his All 

Black Faces to a location between the Knife 

Owners and the All Tall People, and when the 

Orphans were formed, they moved to the Knife 

Owners' camp. 

Although the bands were no longer flexible in 

their movements, they were in their naming practises. Under new conditions, some of the bands 

received new names as fresh incidents occurred. 

The Followers of the Buffalo, whose name was 

outdated, became the Camps in a Bunch. The 

Many Children were renamed the Mules and 

later became the Small Robes, the Shooting Up 

became the Interfering, the Lone Fighters were 

the Middle Reserve People, and the Knife Owners were called Blocking the Road. 

After the turn of the century, many families 

began to leave the confines of the Belly River to 

start their own farms and ranches, thus breaking 

up the traditional band structure. The new 

groups, usually made up of people from several 

bands, also received band-like nicknames, but 

these were usually based upon their geographical 

locations. These included the Big Corner Posts, 

the Deadman's Corner People, Shore People, and 

the Tall Trees. Of these, the latter seemed to 

embody best the humor or disdain so often found 

in earlier band naming practices, for the Tall 

Trees were located in one of the most barren and 

treeless areas on the Blood Reserve. 

Literature Cited 

Catlin, George 

1926. North American Indians, Being Letters and Notes on 

Their Manners, Customs, and Conditions, Written during 

Eight Years' Travel amongst the Wildest Tribes of Indians in North America, 1832-1839. 2 volumes. Edinburgh: John Grant. 

Dempsey, Hugh A. 

1972. Crowfoot: Chief of the Blackfeet. Norman: University 

of Oklahoma Press. 

Doty, James 

1966. A Visit to the Blackfoot Camps. Alberta Historical 

Review (Calgary), 14(3, summer): 17-26. 

Goldfrank, Esther S. 

1939. Field Notes, Blood Reserve. Microfilm copy in 

Glenbow-Alberta Institute, Calgary, Canada. 

Graham, Donald 

1956. Donald Graham's Narrative of 1872-73, edited by 

Hugh A. Dempsey. Alberta Historical Review (Calgary), 4(1, winter): 10-19. 

Grinnell, George Bird 

1892. Blackfoot Lodge Tales. New York: Charles Scribner's 

Sons. 

Legal, Emile 

ca. 1897. Legendes des Pieds-noirs (manuscript). Microfilm copy in Glenbow-Alberta Institute, Calgary, 

Canada. 

Lowie, Robert H. 

1917. Notes on the Social Organization of the Mandan, 

Hidatsa, and Crow Indians. Anthropological Papers 

of the American Museum of Natural History (New 

York), 21(1). 

1954. Indians of the Plains. New York: McGraw-Hill Book 

Co. Ltd. 

M'Gillivray, Duncan 

1934. The Journal of Duncan M'Gillivray of the North West 

Company at Fort George on the Saskatchewan, 1794-5, 

edited by Arthur S. Morton. Toronto: Macmillan 

Co. of Canada Ltd. 

Maclean, John 

1895. Social Organization of the Blackfeet Indians. 

Transactions of the Canadian Institute, 4(2, December): 249-260. Toronto: The Copp, Clark Co. 

Ltd. 

Simpson, George 

1841. Governor George Simpson's Journal. Microfilm 

reel 3M3, Public Archives of Canada, Ottawa, 

Canada. 
Laced Coats and Leather Jackets: 

The Great Plains Intercuhural Clothing Exchange 

James A. Hanson 

ABSTRACT 

Focusing on events in the Northern Plains, this 

paper discusses the exchange of costume that 

occurred on the American frontier between Indians and the Whites with whom they came in 

contact. 

A person is often judged by his dress. In our 

society, an astute observer might be able to ascertain from an individual's dress, his economic 

status, social and political attitudes, religion, 

profession, regional background, and a host of 

other details. Among nineteenth-century Plains 

Indians, tribal affiliation was recognizable by 

headgear, clothing decorations, and even the 

track of a moccasin. Within a tribe, there existed 

special ways of attiring one's self Noted war 

leaders had special shirts or headdresses; holy 

men wrapped themselves in bizarre and mystical 

robes; foppish dandies wore intricately decorated 

outfits; wise councillors were clad in suits bestowed upon them by the White government; 

and wealthy status-seekers purchased dazzling 

and stylish cloth coats from the fur companies. 

It seems that most people are attracted to 

foreign styles of dress. Both White and Indian 

found the other's clothing appealing; each 

adopted and adapted parts of the other's clothing 

for his own special use and with his own special 

meaning. This reciprocal interest apparently 

James A. Hanson, Route 2, Box 18, Chadron, Nebraska 69337. 

commenced with the beginning of contact. 

Among the first-known trade items supplied to 

American natives were textiles and finished shirts, 

hats, military jackets, and capes known as 

"matchcoats." In 1602, five years before the 

founding of Jamestown, two English explorers 

met a party of Indians along the coast of Maine. 

The native leader was wearing a "waist coat and 

breeches of black serdge, made after our seafashion, hose and shoes on his feet" (Ewers, 

1976:102-103). 

The clothing trade was transcontinental in 

scope. In 1787 on the Northwest Coast, the Tsimshian Chief Seax tried to exchange his clothing 

for that of the first White man to arrive in his 

waters. Captain James Colnett. Colnett presented 

the chief with pants, shirt, and a coat (Ewers, 

1976:103). Even in the remote interior of Russian 

Alaska, an American explorer (Whymper, 1868: 

222) observed: 

The leading men of the tribes assembled wore mock 

uniforms, presented them by the Hudson's Bay Company; 

old "Red Leggings" in particular, one of the Kotch-akutchin chiefs, was gorgeous in one with immense gilt-epaulets, brass buttons, and trimmings, and had as many coloured 

ribbons hanging from his cap as would stock ten recruiting 

sergeants for life. 

This custom of "dressing the chiefs" apparently 

started early in Indian-White contact and was 

actively pursued by every government and trading company that desired success through diplomacy. The colonial superpowers in America 

(English, French, and Spanish) recognized Indian 

leaders and friends and presented them with 

105 
106 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

medals of different sizes, certificates, and other 

gifts including quasimilitary coats. When the 

Spanish took control of the Mississippi Valley 

from France, they simply continued the French 

policies and told the tribes that the gifts of the 

two nations were the same and "no innovation is 

being made in anything" (Ewers, 1974:272). 

The Spanish regime passed out medals, canes, 

coats, flags, and certificates to their allies west of 

the Mississippi. In 1787, there were nine laced 

coats for Missouri Basin chiefs on inventory in St. 

Louis (Wedel, 1955:148). Spanish presents for the 

Utes and Comanches included blue wool capes 

and coats "with red lapels for the big chiefs, threecornered hats, and some medals" (Carroll and 

Haggard, 1967:135). The Mexicans continued 

the long-established tradition among the Southern Plains and Southwestern tribes. Travellers as 

late as 1850 frequently encountered Indians wearing blue or red Mexican coats with reversed 

facings (Barlett, 1965:119). 

The United States policy after the Revolution 

followed that of Great Britain's in colonial times. 

Secretary of War Henry Knox told President 

George Washington that "the British Government had the practice of making the Indians 

presents of silver medals, gorgets, uniform clothing, and a sort of military commission . . . the 

Southern Indians are exceedingly desirous of receiving similar gifts from the United States. . . . 

The policy of gratifying them cannot be doubted" 

(U.S. Congress, 1851:60). 

The young American nation's policymakers 

took General Knox's advice to heart and issued 

special presidential medals, certificates, and military coats. When the Corps of Discovery ascended the Missouri in 1804-1805, it carried 

several red coats with blue facings as gifts for the 

Indians. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark 

met the Brule chief, Weucha or Shake Hand, in 

what is now South Dakota, and presented him 

with a flag, medal, certificate and beads, "to 

which we added a chiefs coat; that is, a richly 

laced uniform of the United States artillery corps, 

and a cocked hat and red feather." The chief 

thanked them and remarked that the Spanish 

had given him a medal, "but nothing to keep it 

from my skin; but now you give me a medal and 

clothes," as had the English (Biddle, 1922:101-

102). 

The fur traders had a pressing need to maintain 

the good will of their customers. Established practice required a trader to make presents of liquor, 

clothing, or other goods to head men in order to 

secure the trade of their followers, embarrass the 

competition, and protect themselves and their 

property from physical harm. As an example of 

this custom, Robert Campbell at Fort William, 

North Dakota in 1833, mentioned giving the 

Assiniboine chief, Capot Bleu, a "blue chief coat 

shirt and breech cloth. He is well satisfied" 

(Brooks, 1964:27). 

Cloth coats were typical among the Plains 

Indians by the beginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre-Antoine Tabeau remarked that 

among the Brule Sioux in the period 1803-1805, 

"the clothes of both men and women are scarlet; 

the coats of the men are decorated in false gold, 

with a blue collar ornamented with silver" 

(Wedel, 1955:148). 

Although governments and trading companies 

passed them out as gifts, chief's coats were a 

standard item of trade available at a set price. At 

St. Peter's River, Minnesota, in 1786, Sioux traders reckoned a fine scarlet coat at about S35.00, 

or two month's wages for the average fur company employee (Thwaites, 1892:94). Toward the 

end of their popularity in the 1850s, a chiefs coat 

cost a style-conscious Teton warrior ten buffalo 

robes. A typical tanned robe was valued at $3.50, 

so neither inflation nor competition had changed 

the price of a chiefs coat in half a century (Hanson, 1971:3). To give an idea of the importance 

of the fancy coats in the trade, the inventory for 

1831 at Fort Union, North Dakota, is helpful: 

scarlet chiefs, 47; blue chiefs, 18; blue chiefs 

common, 4 (Thompson, 1968:132). One Sioux 

trader the same year said his business was suffering greatly because he had no chiefs coats or 

green blankets (Abel, 1932:345). Any Plains Indian who was important, or thought himself so, 

saw such a fancy cloth coat as the standard of 
NUMBER 30 107 

fashion. Far more colorful than the most decorative piece of native handiwork, it represented 

conspicuous wealth and cost him dearly. The 

chiefs coat may have been popular as well because similar coats were worn by the military, 

whom Indians usually respected, admired, and 

occasionally emulated. It was probably, however, 

simply a human desire for chic fashion. 

The chiefs coat of the Plains became standardized in design and construction by the early 

nineteenth century (Figure 8). Basically it followed military frock coat lines with falling collar 

and knee-length skirt slit to the waist in the back. 

The whole garment was made gaudy with lots of 

polished buttons and yards of metal lace on 

seams, around pockets, under buttons, and across 

open spaces. Facings on cuffs, collar, and lapels 

were always in a contrasting color. Scarlet coats 

proved most popular, with indigo blue running a 

close second. For a time, parti-colored harlequin 

outfits were in vogue on the Upper Missouri 

(Maximilian, 1906:127, Donnelly, 1967:176, 182, 

200, 226). 

Very few of these chiefs coats survive in museum collections. They passed from Indian fashion before extensive collecting of Indian artifacts 

..<^VUi 

FIGURE 8.—Indian wearing "Chiefs coat" as drawn by Rudolph Friederich Kurz at Fort Union, 

North Dakota, about 1851. (BAE neg. 2856:29 Misc., Smithsonian Institution, National 

Anthropological Archives, Bureau of American Ethnology Collection.) 
108 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

was Started. Collectors and even artists were 

biased against such European trappings and deliberately avoided them, generally seeking those 

items that they supposed or predetermined to be 

aboriginal. Some very late examples are in a few 

collections (the Museum of the Great Plains, 

Lawton, Oklahoma, has several Osage wedding 

coats) and possibly several exist as unidentified 

militia coats in military collections. George Catlin 

was one of the few professional artists to illustrate 

a man wearing a chiefs coat, and he also collected 

an Indian copy of one. 

Surprisingly, a few chiefs coats, or at least 

pieces of them, have been recovered archeologically (Ewers, 1974:277). Oxidized or corroded 

salts from the decorative brass metal lace has in 

some instances preserved strips of cloth to which 

the lace was sewn. The writer has seen a virtually 

intact coat recovered by an amateur archeologist 

from an Iroquois burial. Major portions of one 

were found in Michigan (Brown, 1971:128-133) 

and still other significant discoveries of the remnants of these coats have been made in the riverine tribe villages of the Missouri. One recovered 

near Mobridge, South Dakota, appears to have 

been an indigo blue coat with red facings decorated with gilt buttons and matching lace (Wedel, 

1955:146-147). 

So widespread was their use that virtually every 

traveller in the pre-Civil War era mentioned 

chiefs coats. South of the Platte in 1839, a St. 

Louis doctor, F.A. Wislizenus, encountered sixty 

Sioux warriors. "One of them wore a red English 

uniform, on which he prided himself not a little" 

(Wislizenus, 1969:56). Mountain man William 

Ferris met several hundred Teton Dakotas on the 

Platte in 1830. "They formed a semicircle in front 

of our position, and displayed four American 

flags. Many of them had on long scarlet coats, 

trimmed with gold and silver lace. . " (Ferris, 

1940:27). Prince Paul Wilhelm, Duke of Wurttemberg, said that the Otoe chief Shonkape "wore 

a red uniform and a three-cornered hat with 

feathers, looking very odd on an otherwise bare 

body." He also mentioned that at least two Iowa 

women were dressed in European coats (Paul 

Wilhelm, 1973:384,321). 

The organized fur trade declined gradually 

through the 1850s and many specialty goods for 

Indians, such as chiefs coats, were phased out. 

The Indian Wars forced the warriors to spend 

their "furry banknotes" instead for better arms 

and more ammunition. Changes in fashion 

among Whites, and such phenomena as the Teton 

Dakotas' shift in preference from red and white 

cloth to blue and black, may have accelerated the 

chiefs coat's demise. Furthermore, nearly every 

post-Civil War treaty with the Plains Indians, as 

well as many of the earlier ones, obligated the 

federal govenment to furnish clothing as annuity 

payments. A typical treaty stipulation stated that 

the government would furnish "each male person 

over fourteen years of age, with a suit of good 

substantial clothing, consisting of coat, pantaloons, flannel shirt, hat, and a pair of home-made 

socks" (Kappler, 1904:755ff, cited in Ewers, 

1976:103). Civil War surplus generally filled the 

bill. One single order for the Teton Dakota in 

1869 called for six thousand complete outfits, 

including shirts and hats. The outer garments 

were dyed black, possibly to prevent their theft 

and resale as regular surplus (National Archives, 

1869). The hats were probably the black, straightbrimmed "pilgrim" hat (cafled the "Hardee" by 

the Army), which, along with braids, vest and 

moccasins, became the stereotypic dress of the 

early reservation Indian. 

In a few places, clothing made by Whites for 

Indian use survives to this day. The Osages still 

purchase their handsome wedding coats from a 

band uniform manufacturer, and the Canadian 

government gives blue wool coats trimmed in 

scarlet to certain tribal leaders under its treaty 

obligations. 

Some tribes have incorporated elements of 

early White costume into clothing of their own 

manufacture. The knitted and crocheted stockings made by Navajos and Pueblos are holdovers 

from Spanish colonial costume, and at least one 

tribe in Mexico, the Chamula of Chiapas, wears 

a modified eighteenth-century military coat as 

part of its festival garb. 
NUMBER 30 109 

On the other side of the ledger, the White men 

had a fascination for the Indian's suit of snowy 

buckskin garnished with beads and quills. Americans and Canadians who happened through Indian country readily bought coats, jackets, gloves, 

and moccasins. True Indian clothing on the back 

of a White man was, however, rare. Meriwether 

Lewis posed for his portrait in authentic Nez 

Perce dress. George Custer did likewise for a 

photographer at Fort Abraham Lincoln. Lt. Stephen Mills, commander of a company of Chiricahua scouts, donned genuine Apache shirt, 

breech cloth and tall boots to help establish his 

affinity, and Frank Gushing of the Bureau of 

American Ethnology (Figure 9) was often photographed in Indian clothing as he added to the 

romance of anthropology. Generally, however, 

the White customer wanted something dashing, 

elegant, and well-fitting, but still "frontiersy." 

The result was a garment following the current 

White pattern, even to pockets and lining, and 

then handsomely decorated by Indian methods. 

A survey of specimens in museum collections 

indicates that the buckskin garments for White 

consumption generally followed contemporary 

White fashions (Figure 10). Thus, coats made 

before the Civil War have long, full, knee-length 

skirts and fitted waists similar to the frock coat of 

the period. Three early collar styles were: the 

regular suitcoat type with lapels, a shirt-type 

collar with rounded points (both of which copied 

civilian fashion), and a straight stand-up collar 

style, which probably was derived from military 

coats. 

After the Civil War, vests became popular. The 

jackets became shorter and buckskin shirts (actually light jackets) came into vogue. The regular 

shirt collar and shirt yoke are frequently encountered as are the bibbed "fireman's shirt" popular 

at that time. Some coats during this period have 

shoulder-length capes, which may be an adaptation of the eastern hunting shirt design, or more 

probably, an inspiration from the cape used on 

the army overcoat. 

The post-Civil War outfits exhibit other interesting design characteristics. Many show extensive use of pinking irons and shears to decorate 

edges. Pockets are frequently sewn on the outside, 

using the shape as decoration. Instead of fringe 

being located as a welt in seams, it appears on 

yokes, around collars, sleeves, pockets, and cuffs, 

a vast increase over its use in the earlier days. 

Brass military buttons are also very common. 

Some frontiersmen swore by buckskins, while 

others swore at them. Rudolph F. Kurz felt that 

leather was far superior to cloth for roughing it. 

He found it "more serviceable for life in the bush 

and on the prairie and . . . better protection 

against sun and mosquitoes when one is on horseback" (Hewitt, 1937:134). 

To the contrary, the English sportsman John 

Keast Lord who spent twenty years, beginning in 

the 1840s, on the Plains and in the Rockies, said: 

"This style of dress is decidely showy and picturesque, and having said so much of it, I have 

exhausted everything that it is possible to say in 

its praise." He stated that buckskin was heavy 

and not warm. When wet it was like "damp 

tripe," and drying it was laborious with the stiff 

result being akin to armor. Buckskin was impossible to clean, and shrinkage always occurred, 

even from perspiration. The leather "steals away 

from wrists and feet"; pants became knee 

breeches and "the sleeves modestly retire to the 

regions of the elbow. . . . Never wear leather if 

you can help it." Such was the snobbery of an 

English Lord. He finally admitted: "if nothing 

better can be obtained, there is no other course 

left open than that of wearing leather or going 

a la sauvage. . . . Buckskin .. . is the material most 

hunters, trappers, and traders, whether white or 

red men, use for their suits of clothes" (Lord, 

1867:139). 

Perhaps this writer's personal experience will 

resolve this dichotomy. Buckskin clothing is very 

uncomfortable when damp; but if heavily 

smoked, sewn with welted seams, and greasy from 

long use, it is relatively water repellent. It does 

become stiff and brittle, and it shrinks and 

stretches to a remarkable degree. However, high 

winds and insects do not penetrate it. It is superb 

for an outer garment in really frigid temperatures 
no SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

FIGURE 9.—Anthropologist Frank Cushing in Zuni costume. (Photograph by John K. Hillers, 

1880 or 1881, BAE neg. 22-E Portraits, non-Indian, Smithsonian Institution, National Anthropological Archives, Bureau of American Ethnology Collection.) 
NUMBER 30 111 

FIGURE 10.—White man wearing buckskin suit as drawn by Rudolph Friederich Kurz in 1851. 

(BAE neg. 2856:22 Misc., Smithsonian Institution, National Anthropological Archives, Bureau 

of American Ethnology Collection.) 

and it lasts much better than cloth in brush. 

Who wore these tailored outfits? They were 

procured by fur traders, mountain men, frontier 

scouts, Army officers, show people, and even the 

Indians themselves. 

The fur company employees apparently stuck 

to civilized dress while on duty, for several reasons. First, the companies made a nice profit 

selling clothing to their employees. Second, a 

company tailor was usually on hand or nearby 

for proper fitting or repairs. Third, company 

officers felt that "White" dress was more appropriate than Indian dress. Kurz (in Hewitt, 

1937:134) quoted Edwin T. Denig as feeling that 

"Indians take pride in procuring for themselves 

clothes according to our mode and have an ambition to appear dressed as white men, because 

they regard our garments more fashionable and 

expensive. A white person in Indian costume 

inspires no especial respect among tribes; he 

rather lowers himself in their estimation." 

Clearly, the Indian admired the White trader 

greatly for his technology and very little for his 

ability at Plainscraft. 

Denig also said that another principal reason 

for not adopting Indian garb was the very real 

danger of being mistaken for a member of an 

enemy tribe and being killed. There was a "shoot 

first and ask questions later" ordinance in effect 

those days, and Denig realized that friendly cur-
112 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

iosity was not a virtue on the Plains. Kurz believed this was the real reason for Denig's refusal 

to wear buckskins (Hewitt, 1937:134). To support 

Denig's contention, there is the statement of an 

Army scout concerning events the day following 

the Battle of the Little Bighorn. "De Rudio and 

O'Neil saw a large number of riders going up the 

valley, made out that one of them was wearing 

buckskin clothes, and were sure that they recognized him, and De Rudio shouted: 'Tom Custer! 

Wait!' The answer to that was forty or fifty 

shots. ." (Schultz, 1926:148). 

When the time came for the traders to head 

for home, it was a different matter entirely. As 

Kurz put it, "the 'Mountaineer' costume, in 

which they array themselves in St. Joseph and St. 

Louis, they have made before their departure for 

the purpose of distinguishing themselves. Such 

suits of clothes are made up and sold at Fort 

Pierre" (Hewitt, 1937:134). The implication is 

that these may have been tailor-made, and probably kept as regular stock. After demolishing 

buckskin as suitable attire. Lord added, "my 

remarks, be it understood, only apply to brush 

life—visiting, or doing the swell enroute is altogether another affair" (Lord, 1867:141). Many 

fur company people, such as Henry Boiler and 

Auguste and Charles Chouteau, acquired Indian 

outfits. Most of the real working traders, however, 

posed for photographs in broadcloth suits. 

It was also possible to get a frontier suit without 

the trouble of going upriver. At least one enterprising merchant in the 1830s and 1840s supplied 

a wide range of Indian curiosities to his St. Louis 

customers. J. Deaver, proprietor of the "Emporium," advertised moccasins and beadwork from 

the Hudson's Bay Company, wolf robes from the 

Rocky Mountains, a Blackfoot chiefs scalp, and 

great quantities of quilled and beaded pouches 

and medicine bags. In the clothing line, he offered 

"ten doz. Indian moccasins, superior quality, also 

a few Indian coats, porcupine work." Deaver 

advertised on one occasion that he had "just 

received from Red River [Oklahoma] a few splendid Indian coats, made by Cherokee Indians, also 

a few mockasins. . . " {Missouri Republican, 1839, 

1840). These coats were probably of the caped, 

knee-length variety, popular among the Five Civilized Tribes. A remarkably fine example, given 

to the governor of Texas about 1854, is on exhibit 

at the Alamo in San Antonio. 

The mountain men—the rustic beaver trappers 

who braved Blackfeet and blizzard to harvest our 

first exploitable resource—uniformly adopted 

buckskin for use in the field, unlike the traders. 

Once again, even though a garment was made by 

some Crow or Shoshone maiden, its pattern was 

almost always European. Mountain man Lewis 

Garrard said that when his cloth trousers wore 

out, he bought Indian leather and took it to John 

Smith. The talented Cheyenne trader cut out the 

pieces following Garrard's old pants and Smith's 

wife sewed them with sinew. While the tailors 

were busy, Garrard watched, maintaining decency by wearing a leg from his old trousers as a 

breech cloth. He laconically reported, "I made a 

very respectable looking savage" (Garrard, 

1938:173-174). 

Trousers could be obtained as Garrard had 

obtained his, but they also were available in 

buckskin, tailor-made with fringed seams, at every major trading post and at most dry goods 

stores around St. Louis (Thompson, 1968:132; 

Townsend, 1978:11). Lord observed (1867:139) 

that "the 'pants' are made similar to those usually 

worn in civilized lands. Both trousers and jacket 

are elaborately fringed. . . . Sometimes beadwork 

and stained porcupine quills are used to increase 

the ornamentation." 

Most mountain men could probably wield an 

awl and sinew with considerable dexterity. John 

C. Fremont's accounts indicate that some were 

semiprofessional cobblers who regularly furnished 

moccasins at a dollar a pair (National Archives, 

1842-1890). Rufus Sage (1887:155) noted that 

trappers usually made their own moccasins, using 

the foldover side seam pattern. 

A third group associated with leather garments 

on the frontier were the Army scouts and emigrant guides. The real old-timers like Kit Carson 

and Jim Bridger usually posed in store-bought 

outfits, while the johnny-come-latelys, such as 

Tom Tobin, Joe Meek, Mariano Modena, and 

Jim Baker, swathed themselves in a welter of 
NUMBER 30 113 

sashes and beadwork. Some scouts, such as Big 

Bat Gamier and Little Bat Pourier (who wore the 

knee-high "breed" legging) were mixed bloods or 

married to Indians, so an elegant costume probably increased their prestige with relatives and 

in-laws. As well, what Army officer could resist 

hiring such a dashing personal guide? It would 

make for delightful local color in his memoirs. 

What company of emigrants could doubt the 

knowledge of a man so obviously in tune with the 

wild country ahead? 

Following close to this was the endless array of 

charlatans, showmen, and yarn spinners who 

milked public credulity for years after the last 

wild bison was gone. William F. "Buffalo Bill" 

Cody posed in full buckskins while he "gunned 

down" the Cheyenne chief Yellow Hand nightly 

in his "Wild West Show," even though at the 

actual event Cody was wearing a Mexican vaquero's outfit made of black velvet (Sell and 

Weybright, 1955:111, 118). A host of othersAnnie Oakley, "Deadeye" Dick, "Deadwood" 

Dick, "Diamond" Dick, and even "Buckskin" 

Jack—donned the fancy, if fanciful, attire to 

make their humbug believable. Even such men 

as Dan Beard, founder of the Boy Scouts of 

America, and Teddy Roosevelt could not resist 

the romantic appeal of fringe when facing the 

camera. 

Of all the groups. Army officers serving in the 

West undoubtedly led the field in acquiring fancy 

pseudo-Indian costumes, as well as other Indian 

"curiosities." Perhaps they did so as a tangible 

indication of interest in the natives, but more 

probably it represented a merging of the trapper's 

reason (practicality) and the trader's reason (romance and public attention). Meriwether Lewis 

was probably the first American officer to return 

with an Indian outfit. In 1820, a fur trader had 

Army tailors make knee-length buckskin hunting 

shirts, high-waisted buckskin trousers, and other 

cold-weather gear for riflemen with Stephen H. 

Long's Yellowstone Expedition (Meriwether, 

1965:55-56). When the Marquis de Lafayette 

visited St. Louis in 1825, General William Clark 

gave him an Indian-made coat, "a garment bearing a striking resemblance to a Russian riding 

FIGURE 11.—George Armstrong Custer in buckskins about 

1868. 

coat," as a souvenir. Lafayette's secretary described it as "made of buffaloe skin, prepared so 

as to retain all its pliancy" (Ewers, 1967:57). 

Photographs show that the custom of buckskin 

clothing in the field was popular everywhere; one 

taken in 1874 of the Royal Engineers Relief Force 

accompanying the U.S.—Canadian Boundary 

Commission pictures several fringed jackets (Parsons, 1963:66-67). We all know Custer wore a 

buckskin coat (Figure 11), and his wife Libby said 

he usually wore fringed buckskin breeches (Custer, 1961:86). In fact, many of the officers who 

died with him wore some article of Indian manufacture. 

Due to artists' interest in accurately depicting 

the battle of the Little Bighorn, we know how a 

great many of the soldiers were dressed. Custer 
114 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

FIGURE 12.—Buckskin jacket worn by Captain William Ludlow on the Black Hills Expedition, 1874. Made by Arikara 

Indians about 1872. Courtesy U.S. Military Academy Museum, West Point. 

wore a whitish gray hat with broad brim and 

rather low crown, and a buckskin suit with a 

fringed welt in the outer seams of the trousers 

and arms of the blouse. The double-breasted 

buckskin blouse featured military buttons, open 

lapels, a turn-down collar, and fringe along the 

bottom. His brothers, Tom and Boston, were 

similarly dressed. Several of the remaining officers 

wore buckskin blouses. Lt. James E. Porter's bullet-riddled jacket was found in the abandoned 

hostile village, and Captain Tom Custer's buckskin jacket was recovered later, indicating that 

they wore the coats into battle despite the summer 

heat. The body of Lt. Donald Mcintosh was also 

clad in buckskins (Parsons and DuMont, 

1953:49-51; Hutchins, 1976:16). 

It is unfortunate that no such detailed information exists regarding the dress of the host of 

other soldiers who served out West (Figure 12), 

although the United States Military Academy 

Museum has some remarkably fine buckskin outfits that belonged to Army officers on frontier 

duty, and old photographs bear out their popularity as field dress. Assumedly, Custer's officers 

were no more or less dashing and picturesque 

than those in other regiments. 

The final group brings us full circle. When this 

project was undertaken, it seemed that the garments under consideration were probably made 

by Indians for Whites. The literature indicated 

that some of them were made by Whites for 

Whites. It is now evident from photographs and 

specimens that some Indians also wore these European adaptations of native material as well. 

Two notable examples are Curley, Custer's Crow 

scout, and Red Cloud, the Oglala Sioux chief of 

chiefs. Both were famous national figures. Both 

played important roles in tribal and White cultures. Perhaps in their minds it was desirable to 

retain a certain "Indianness" in their attire to 

satisfy White curiosity seekers and officials, as 

well as conservative Indians. At the same time, 

the elegance of decoration on their clothes may 

have accurately reflected their enhanced social 

status and wealth. It seems that Indians faithfully 

copied European fashion, even when that fashion 

was derived from their own dress (Figure 13). 

The tradition of Indian-made clothing for 

Whites continues. It is strongest in Canada, where 

high-quality tailored jackets made by native 

craftsmen in a variety of styles are available from 

Pointe Bleue, Quebec, to Teslin Lake, British 

Columbia. A few are made in the United States. 

In 1969, the writer received a beautiful buckskin 

jacket as a gift from an Oglala Sioux friend. The 

Indian received in return a new Stetson cowboy 

hat, so the traditional exchange of clothing is still 

viable. 

With regard to the ornamentation of the type 

of buckskin garments under consideration, it is 

worthwhile to note that typical Plains geometric 

beadwork was observed on only two examples. 

Decorations, if present, consisted of variations on 

floral themes in beads or quills applied directly 

to the leather with no other background. The 

individual design elements were often somewhat 

larger and naturally more colorful when done 

with beads, with the beads usually being of very 

fine size. Areas decorated generally include the 

breast, back yoke, pocket flaps, and collar and 

cuffs of coats. On trousers, the designs usually 

appear in the front pocket area, down the leg 

fronts, the cuffs, and the calf area of the back of 

the leg. 

A controversy exists as to whether this floral 
NUMBER 30 115 

FIGURE 13.—Oglala Sioux Chief Red Cloud in European style dress, 1900. (BAE neg. 3238-C 

Oglala, Smithsonian Institution, National Anthropological Archives, Bureau of American 

Ethnology Collection.) 
116 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

applique tradition was the work of mixed bloods, 

especially the Canadian Metis (Howard, 1972:16; 

Brasser, 1976:37). Certainly the quality and 

quantity of production of this style of decoration, 

as well as the skillful creation of the garments 

themselves, suggest highly acculturated craftsmen, but whether they were Indian or mixed 

blood is not clear. It is possible that the Saulteaux, 

acculturated Chippewas in the employ of the 

Hudson's Bay Company, played a role in the 

development of this design tradition on the 

Plains. They were relocated from the Great Lakes 

to the Manitoba prairies, and their floral designs 

may have caught the eye of the western frontiersman and Plains Indian as well. 

Since Cherokee and Canadian Indian items 

were being marketed very early in St. Louis, they 

could have influenced Plains designs. Still other 

sources to consider, when discussing the western 

floral tradition that still exists among the beadworkers of the northern Rockies, are the Iroquois 

and other eastern tribes who migrated westward. 

For example, several Iroquois women and girls, 

the wives and daughters of beaver trappers, were 

taken prisoner by the Crows about 1822 and held 

for several years, perhaps permanently (Paul Wilhelm, 1973:328). Could they not have taught 

their beadworking designs and techniques to their 

captors? We also note the specific remarks of J. 

Goldsborough Bruff, a Forty-niner who visited 

the former Hudson's Bay Company factor at Fort 

Hall, Idaho (Read and Gaines, 1949:102): 

Grant is a Scotchman . . . and quite courteous, for an old 

mountaineer. His wife is an Iriquois. . . Her handywork,—of 

bead embroidered articles are very ingenious and beautiful;—pouches, sashes, mocasins, etc. etc. adorn the apartment, or office of her husband. I enquired if he had any of 

them to dispose of, but he said no, all spare things of that 

kind had been sold. 

What influence did her work have upon the 

Shoshones and Bannocks who were at Fort Hall 

almost daily? How many other Iroquois women 

went West and introduced new and important 

ideas of craftsmanship to the Plains, Plateau, and 

Mountain tribes? 

In conclusion, the intercultural exchange of 

clothing was virtually universal. The Indians saw 

White garments as carrying social prestige and 

economic status. Some Whites used Indian clothing for practicality, but most wore it as a label of 

individualism. Wearing buckskin was also an obvious statement of sensationalism, and these reasons were not really different from the reasons 

Plains Indians wanted chiefs coats. 

As an afterthought, one wonders how badly 

artists, writers, and film makers have misportrayed the Indian Wars. In reality, the fellows in 

the Army clothes were the Indians, while the 

chaps wearing buckskin were the soldiers. How 

confusing it must have been! 

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Donnelly, Joseph 

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Ewers, John C. 

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1937. Journal of Rudolph Friederich Kurz. Bureau of 

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Howard, James H. 

1972. The Music Man among the Santee. American Indian 

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1976. Boots and Saddles at the Little Bighorn. Fort Collins: 

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1867. At Home in the Wilderness. London: Robert Hardwicke. 

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1906. Travels in the Interior of North America, 1832, 

Part II. In Reuben Gold Thwaites, editor. Early 

Western Travels 1748-1846, 23. Cleveland: Arthur 

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Schultz, James Willard 

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Houghton Mifflin Co. 

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1955. Buffalo Bill and the Wild West. New York: Oxford 

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Wisconsin. 

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Columbia River. Lincoln: University of Nebraska 

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Papers. Washington, D. C : Gales and Seaton. 

Wedel, Waldo R. 

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Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, 157:69-188. 

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Glorieta, New Mexico: Rio Grande Press. 
The Wichita Indians 

in the Arkansas River Basin 

Mildred Mott Wedel 

ABSTRACT 

The lifeway, material culture, intertribal relationships, and history of Wichita-speaking peoples in 

the Arkansas River basin are synthesized from 

sixteenth to eighteenth century Spanish and 

French documents. Changes in Wichita culture 

resulting from European contact are then discussed. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—I wish to express gratitude to Jane Walsh of the Department of Anthropology, Smithsonian Institution, for her help 

in the translation of primary Spanish documents. 

I am responsible for the French translations. 

Introduction 

The Wichita Indians who lived in the Arkansas 

River basin in the 16th to 18th centuries are the 

focus of interest in this paper. I shall present them 

as they appeared to European visitors at three 

different times during that period, one that many 

would consider precedes reliable memory history. 

Facts relating to geographical location, lifeway, 

and sociocultural and religious concepts have 

been extracted from manuscript and published 

records so that for the first time comparisons of 

particular features can readily be made. The 

carefully evaluated documents have been studied 

from an anthropological viewpoint. This accords 

Mildred Mott Wedel, Department of Anthropology, National Museum 

of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. 

20560. 

with the ethnohistoric method as I define and use 

it (M. Wedel, 1976:3-4; M. Wedel and DeMallie, 

1980:110). Those who advocate the use of this 

approach stress its importance for studies of cultural change. This viewpoint will be substantiated when I consider the changes reflected in the 

synchronic descriptions within the 200-year period and suggest reasons for them. 

The documents consist of firsthand accounts of 

visits to the Wichita in the period 1541-1601, in 

1719, and in 1748-1749. This descriptive material 

has many lacunae since it is in some cases only a 

response to interrogations by European officials 

seeking facts on limited problems or, in others, a 

presentation of information considered important 

to plans for future trade. It does not convey the 

genius or vitality of the Wichita lifeway. We do 

not sense, for instance, the concepts by which the 

Indians integrated their lives with their environment and each other, nor the binding forces of 

their rituals and ceremonialism, nor the detailed 

variety of their everyday lives. However, the 

scraps of information are precious, because, except for archeology, they are our foremost sources 

for knowledge of the Wichita in these centuries. 

Interpretation of the records used here has 

recognized that all of them were written from an 

ethnocentric viewpoint. That is, the European 

authors were insensitive to many aspects of Indian 

life. Much that they witnessed, they did not 

correctly comprehend. When interpreters were 

used, there was abundant opportunity for a still 

different kind of misunderstanding, especially 

when a series of interpreters were employed as in 

1719. In addition, a knowledge of the history of 

118 
NUMBER 30 119 

the period has often clarified certain statements 

that at first glance are bewildering. 

The Wichita in the 1500s 

The Wichita were first described by members 

of two Spanish expeditions seeking gold and silver, which went from New Mexico to an area 

called Quivira. One was led by Francisco Vasques 

de Coronado in 1541; the other by Juan de Onate 

in 1601. Although these two journeys were separated by 60 years, the resulting descriptions of the 

Quivirans and of the routes followed to reach 

them are similar enough to justify the conclusion 

that in both cases the same region and people are 

indicated. 

It has been proposed and generally accepted 

that the Quivirans were Wichita-speaking Caddoans. They were extensively tattooed as the 

Wichita are known to have been in later historic 

times; they lived in tall grass houses typical of 

those built by later Wichita; and two of their 

settlements and/or subdivisions had names that 

identify with 18th-century Wichita band names. 

Hereafter, I shall use the term "Wichita" to mean 

the Wichita-speaking Caddo and "Wichita 

proper" for the band to which that name was 

originally restricted. 

The following descriptive information pertaining to the 1500s is derived from documents based 

on firsthand observations made by the two expedition leaders, by two men who accompanied 

Coronado to Quivira (Smith, 1857:147-163), and 

in addition by those who testified both in the 

1544 hearing conducted to determine what cruelties Coronado perpetrated upon Indians during 

his 1540-1542 journey northward (Informacion, 

1544), and in the 1602 official inquiry conducted 

by Don Francisco de Valverde into the accomplishments of Ofiate the year before (Hammond 

and Rey, 1953, 2:836-877). Twenty or more years 

after the Coronado entrada, Pedro de Castaneda 

de Najera (1596) composed a relation, which 

contained firsthand knowledge of the Coronado 

trek onto the Plains, but only secondhand data 

on the region of Quivira. 

In the 1500s the Wichita appear to have been 

living northeast and possibly east of the Great 

Bend of the Arkansas River, an area which was 

bounded on the north by the Smoky Hill River 

and is now within the State of Kansas (Figure 

14). Herbert E. Bolton's (1949:427-428) on-theground reconstruction of the Coronado route 

based on documentary data, led him to this location and later was corroborated by archeological investigations conducted by Waldo R. Wedel. 

More specifically, the 1541 party (Smith, 

1857:160) found the Wichita living along two 

small tributaries of the Arkansas, probably Cow 

Creek and the Little Arkansas River (W. Wedel, 

1942:12; 1959:585-587). Coronado then led his 

slow-moving troops for four or five days to what 

was described as the "end of Quivira" (Smith, 

1857:160), where there was a larger river than the 

previous ones along which settlements had been 

seen. This is usually identified as the Smoky Hill. 

Identification of Oiiate's specific destination is 

less satisfactory, although his presence in the same 

region is generally accepted. Bolton (1916:260) 

suggested this Spaniard found Quivirans on one 

of the same tributaries as did Coronado, while W. 

Wedel (1942:18-20) has proposed that a location 

farther east near present-day Arkansas City, Kansas, near the mouth of Walnut River, should also 

be given consideration. "Other people," presumably Wichita, were reported in 1601 (Bolton, 

1916:261-262) to be living "due east" down the 

Arkansas. To judge by the known geographical 

extent of the Great Bend Aspect archeological 

materials (those that W. Wedel (1959:571-589) 

has proposed include the cultural remains of 16thcentury Wichita), they were not living east of the 

Walnut River basin or south of the modern Kansas-Oklahoma line. 

In both 1541 and 1601 the Spaniards were 

impressed by the large population in Quivira (M. 

Wedel, 1979:187). There are many hazards involved in making an estimate of their number 

based on written records. With this in mind, 

Newcomb and Field (1967:341) conjectured that 

the population of all Quivira would fall between 

15,000 and 33,000. These people were described 
120 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

sni2iy/y,./ r^""^^^ ^ 

—^-.^..,—-^~'" ^^r,\ I 

V / \ ^ \<5. \ o 

o / ^ ^ \ o \ — . * V VA * \ 3 

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KANSAS ^ r 

. ARKANSAS CITY^Q P 

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— ^.^ ^ \ ^ \ /-v^,,— ^ 

vT^^^ ~ ^ - \Cono<*'<"> 

0 25 50 MILES } 

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 \ 

^_-_C V 0 25 50 KILOMETERS \ 

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SL- J^" y^ 

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NEOOESHA fi£ [^ 

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L^ 1 

BRYSON SITE ^ \ ^ 

EER CREEK SITE / 

l^^*. ^ ^ ^*. f T j^xZlZ"'^ \^ ( 

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WEALAK/A LJ RIDGE f V 

RjveW^-—/ 

fi^^lr^^^ 

1 39 ' — 

1 

1 

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1 

1 37° — 

[ i 

1 

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1 

b6° — 

1 

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OKLAHOMA 

OUACHITA 1 

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FIGURE 14.—Range of Wichita Indian Settlements, 1541-1750s. 
NUMBER 30 121 

as physically large; some of the men whom Coronado had measured were ten palm-spans, that 

is over 6 feet (or about 1.8 m), in height. Both 

men and women were extensively tattooed, with 

the women's faces, as described by Coronado 

(Pacheco and Cardenas, 1865:366), looking more 

like those of the Moors than Indians. 

The area occupied by these Wichita was west 

of the Flint Hills within the Central Lowland 

physiographic province. Spaniards, who viewed 

with pleasure the well-watered and fertile land in 

July 1541, noted the availability and abundance 

of wild plums, grapes, mulberries, nuts, "flax," 

and a number of herbs. 

No other Indian territory impinged closely 

upon that of the Wichita. To the north at some 

distance lived friendly Pawnee, for whom the 

Wichita evidently used the pan-Caddoan term 

Awa:hi, rendered by the Spaniards Harahei or 

Arahe. The Guas (Castaneda de Najera, 1596:123) 

possibly Kansa according to linguist Robert L. 

Rankin (University of Kansas, pers. comm.), who 

were characterized by the Wichita as enemies, 

may have come from as far away as the Missouri 

River to attack. To the southwest, in today's 

Texas panhandle, the Spaniards in 1541 encountered Teyas, who were friendly to the Wichita and 

may have occasionally wintered near them (M. 

Wedel, 1979:190). Others such as the then roving, 

tattooed Escanjaques (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 

2:841), possibly Tonkawa-speakers, whom the 

Spaniards met nearer Quivira, were fierce enemies. They and the Wichita were said by Baltasar 

Martinez in 1602 to kill and eat each other 

(Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:843), presumably 

ceremonially. The possible presence of Wichita 

slaves (M. Wedel, in prep.) in 1541 at Pecos, New 

Mexico, would have resulted from hostilities between these and other Indians in the more southern Plains. Described war paraphernalia of the 

Wichita included the bow and arrow, war clubs, 

and shields. 

Two Wichita settlement or band names are 

linked with the farthest region of Quivira in 

Coronado-related documents. Jaramillo wrote 

(Smith, 1857:160) in 1542: "We arrived at what 

was said to be the most remote part of Quivira, 

to which they had taken us saying it was of much 

importance, expressing this by the word teucarea.^'' 

He added that this was also the most heavily 

populated region of Quivira. Under interrogation 

in 1544, Domingo Martin {Informacion 1544, testimony 4) told of the assassination of the Indian, 

El Turco, "in a pueblo called Tabas,^'' an event 

which Jaramillo reported (Smith, 1857:160) occurred in the "most distant place" to which Coronado's party went. 

Although Bolton (1949:293) equated both tabas 

and teucarea with the taovayas, i.e., Tawehash, today's linguists do not. David S. Rood (University 

of Colorado, pers. comm.) states that from a 

linguistic point of view, "I would unhesitatingly 

identify [teucarea] with the Wichita name for the 

Towakoni, tawa:khariw." On the other hand, linguist Rood would accept Bolton's argument for 

tabas equating with Tawehash. Therefore, if Jaramillo can be trusted, it would seem that both 

of these Wichita bands were living just south of 

Smoky Hill River. The importance of teucarea 

may have resulted in part from their being considered, then and later, the foremost band of the 

Wichita. The concentration of population may 

have reflected the presence of the two subdivisions 

in the region and the fact that the Tawehash, at 

this time and later, composed the largest band. 

The Wichita who lived on Arkansas River tributaries in 1541 and 1601 are unidentified. 

The settlement pattern was one of extended 

communities composed of a number of house 

clusters or hamlets (M. Wedel, 1979:183-186). 

The dwellings were "grass houses" (Newcomb, 

1961:255-256) like those the Wichita continued 

to build in later times. Jaramillo (Smith, 

1857:161) described many as round, and Martinez in 1602 (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:844) 

added that they were 70 to 80 feet (21 to 24 m) 

in circumference, indicating a diameter of 22 to 

24 feet (6.7 to 7.3 m). Onate estimated (Bolton, 

1916:260) they were "two spears" in height. 

Martinez further described them, according to 

Hammond's translation, "as built of small poles 

stuck in the ground close together and brought 
122 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

together at the top in the shape of a pavilion." 

The poles were the thickness of an arm, Juan de 

Leon testified (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:857). 

He perplexes modern readers by mentioning a 

central pole toward which the others converged. 

Is he describing an unfinished structure from 

which the center ladder pole had not yet been 

removed? To the horizontal fiber lacing of the 

framework, bunches of grass were attached "that 

came down to the ground like a wall" (Smith, 

1857:161). Mats woven of withes and grass covered the doorways (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 

2:845), which were so low the Spaniards had to 

enter on their knees. Once inside, they saw around 

the edge canicos (canizos?), probably meaning 

framed platforms (Bolton, 1916:260), otherwise 

described as "barbacoa beds" (Hammond and 

Rey, 1953, 2:857), that were "about the size of 

the rope beds in Castile." These frames had poles 

laid across them (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 

2:844-845) and occupied one-half to one-third of 

the interior space. 

Other structures were near the houses. The 

Spaniards' need to describe features for which 

they had no ready term, together with mistranslation by historians unfamiliar with likely constructions, has clouded and confused interpretations of their form and purpose. Of particular 

interest were platform structures on which small 

rooms were perched, covered with dried grass as 

were the dwellings. They were reported by Onate 

(Bolton, 1916:260) and Leon (Hammond and 

Rey, 1953, 2:857) to serve for storage of corn. 

Movable wooden ladders led to their small grassmat doors. Upon observing Indians sitting and 

lying in the doorways, Martinez (Hammond and 

Rey, 1953, 2:844) and Onate suggested the granaries also provided a cool refuge from the summer 

heat. Jaramillo (Smith, 1857:161) may have described a similar structure, but if so, less clearly, 

for he does not specifically note its elevation on 

poles or the presence of ladders. Seeing no corn 

stored in it, he likened the feature to a capilla 

(chapel?) or sentry box. Again, however, Indians 

were seen lounging in the doorway. An acceptable 

translation of this passage does not necessarily 

indicate that the feature was attached to a house. 

as George P. Hammond (Hammond and Rey, 

1940:305) implied in his translation, but instead 

states that it was adjacent. 

In the settlement visited by Onate, Martinez 

(Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:846) saw fields of 

maize in the spaces between houses and wrote 

that "some extend beyond them, but not far 

enough to be out of sight." There were also a few 

gardens planted to beans and small "calabashes," 

a term that could indicate squash, pumpkin, or 

gourds. Onate (Bolton, 1916:759) commented on 

plum thickets between planted fields. Was this a 

natural growth or a "fence" of Indian contrivance? 

Although the Spaniards were favorably impressed by the horticultural activities of the Wichita and were eager to benefit from the harvest, 

they give the impression that the Indian economy 

rested chiefly on products of the hunt, particularly of bison. Onate wrote that these Indians 

utilized bison in large numbers, and Martinez 

described bison meat as "their principal and best 

sustenance." They were said to use small bows 

and short black arrows (Hammond and Rey, 

1953, 2:874). In documents relating to both 1541 

and 1601, it was pointed out that Wichita clothing was made from tanned buckskin and bison 

hides, and it was considered worthy of mention 

by both Diego de Ayarde and Miguel Montero 

de Castro (Hammond and Rey 1953, 2:884, 881) 

that some Wichita wore hide shoes. 

Coronado, as he approached Quivira in late 

June, came upon a small group of these people 

hunting along the Arkansas River upstream from 

their settlement. Women were present who presumably prepared the meat and other animal 

products to carry back home. There is no mention 

of dog transport and in 1601 no indication of 

horse possession. Onate (Bolton, 1916:261) commented: "It is incredible how many [bison] there 

are in that land." 

The main cultigen was maize, two crops of 

which were raised annually, according to Juan 

Rodriguez (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:867) 

and Onate who observed further (Bolton, 

1916:261) that the stalks of the first crop that had 

recently been harvested were as tall "as that of 
NUMBER 30 123 

New Spain and in many places even higher." The 

plants of the second crop lately planted in holes 

were already a palm-span (about 6 in or 15 cm) 

in height. Two varieties are known to have been 

planted annually by the Hasinai Caddo in 

the late 17th and 18th centuries (Swanton, 

1942:129-131) and possibly earlier. 

Maize was observed stored not only in the 

platform granaries, but in piles on house floors 

and by Rodriguez (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 

2:866) in underground caches (silos). Inside the 

houses (Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:845) Martinez saw stone metates the size of two "bricks" 

laid side by side, with a small mano on top. 

Circular breads made from maize flour were said 

to be baked under ashes (Smith, 1857:152). They 

were as "big as shields" and three to four fingers 

thick. Both dried and roasted maize were seen. 

Wild fruits and nuts were also in evidence. 

Jars and jugs of brownish clay were observed 

(Hammond and Rey, 1953, 2:857) by Leon. No 

metal other than a copper pendant worn by a 

Wichita chief in 1541 was seen by those who had 

undertaken the long journey to Quivira in search 

of gold. Beads of perhaps shell or bone were 

thrown at Onate (Bolton, 1916:259) in what he 

described as a gesture of friendship. 

Little is learned about the social structure of 

the Wichita from the 16th to 17th century Spanish visitors. Some ranking of bands was implied. 

A few tantalizing facts suggest a more highly 

organized society than was characteristic of Plains 

Indian groups, possibly reflecting Caddoan ties. 

The Indian Miguel reported (Hammond and 

Rey, 1953, 2:874) that the Wichita settlement 

visited by Onate had two chiefs, one of more 

importance than the other. The one with whom 

Onate dealt was called Catarax, as the term was 

rendered in Spanish. Taken hostage by the apprehensive Spaniards, he remained calm and ordered his villagers to do likewise. "It is remarkable," Onate wrote, "how they obeyed him and 

served him." Martinez noted (Hammond and 

Rey, 1953, 2:844) that in evidence of his rank 

"whenever he was asked a question, he always 

asked his companion to answer." He carried a 

staff as a symbol of his authority. Each grass 

house was large enough to hold eight to ten 

people (Bolton, 1916:260) who were probably the 

members of a matrilineal, matrilocal family. 

Up to 1541 the Wichita lifeway had been 

untouched by European influences. One of the 

earliest contacts between a man who may have 

been a Wichita and the Spaniards involved the 

Indian called the Turk (M. Wedel, in prep.) by 

these Europeans. At Pecos, New Mexico, he had 

described to Coronado and his gold-loving men 

a people who had metal who lived to the east of 

Pecos on a wide river, presumably the Mississippi. 

In that area, he evidently had seen copper worked 

{Informacion, 1544:testimony 3, 8) and made into 

various articles. There is the interesting possibility 

that he was an entrepreneur who moved from 

one Indian group to another, carrying on a lone 

trading operation, as did Wichita individuals in 

later times. 

The Wichita in 1719 

In 1719, over a hundred years after Onate's 

visit, two Frenchmen, Jean-Baptiste Benard, 

Sieur de La Harpe, and Claude-Charles Dutisne, 

visited other, but different, Wichita villages and 

soon thereafter recorded their observations. The 

purpose of these visits was to consummate alliances that would permit the establishment of 

trade between French colonies along the Mississippi River and New Mexico, as well as the 

intervening Indian people. Most of the following 

descriptive data are drawn from a copy of the 

1718-1720 journal of Benard de La Harpe, and 

from his compilation of the 1720s, the Journal 

Historique de I'Etablissement des Franqais a la Louisiane 

(a shortened title used for the Boimare, 1831, 

published edition). The rest of the data comes 

from a letter written by Dutisne to Louisiana 

Governor-General Jean Baptiste Le Moyne de 

Bienville that with two of his Relations were incorporated into La Harpe's daily journal (folio 21 

verso). The original of this 1718-1720 journal has 

been destroyed or lost. 

By this time a Wichita migration southward 

within the Arkansas River basin had occurred, 

which apparently left no settlements near Smoky 
124 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Hill River. However, there are indications that in 

the 1680s some Wichita were still in that most 

northern region of old Quivira. Robert Cavelier 

de La Salle owned two Indian slaves in 1683, a 

boy called a Pana who was probably a Wichita 

(M. Wedel, 1973:212-213), and a Paneassa 

woman presumably of another Wichita band. 

The boy's people were said to live in two villages, 

which, from the paraphrased description, could 

refer to a location on the Smoky Hill. The 1684 

Carte de la Louisiane, drawn by Jean-Baptiste Louis 

Franquelin (in Thwaites, 1896-1901 (63): frontispiece), using data provided by La Salle, records 

"10 Villages" oi Paneassa, but in such a generalized way that it is unclear if these hamlets were 

near the Smoky Hill or farther south. After 1699, 

maps based on secondary information were still 

portraying Wichita as living in scattered hamlets 

just northeast of the Great Bend, but also in 

villages farther south along the Arkansas, usually 

on its left hand side, occasionally on the right. 

A good case can be made for Benard de La 

Harpe finding the 1719 village of the touacaro (the 

1541 teucarea) on a terrace today called Wealaka 

Ridge (1718-1720, folio 19), near Leonard, Oklahoma. It is on the south side of the Arkansas 

River below present-day Tulsa. This results from 

an on-the-ground tracing of the route taken by 

La Harpe when he went northwest from his Red 

River post (M. Wedel, 1978:14-15) to meet at the 

Tawakoni village with Wichita and other Caddoan groups. The retracing of his course was 

made in 1972 (M. Wedel, in prep.) by myself, 

Waldo R. Wedel, Larry Banks of the U.S. Army 

Corps of Engineers, Dallas, and for a short distance by Quintus Herron of the Museum of the 

Red River. 

Dutisne, in his turn, went to one of two villages 

about 2.5 to 3 miles (1.5 to 1.9 km) apart. Following his route description, one is led from an Osage 

village on Osage River to a location near the 

Verdigris River (W. Wedel, 1959:533; M. Wedel, 

1972-1973:155-156) in the vicinity of today's 

Neodesha, Kansas. I have elsewhere proposed 

(1981:31-32) that the inhabitants of these villages 

may have been Taovayas, i.e., Tawehash Wichita. 

Dutisne used for them only the imprecise terms 

panis, pants, and paniouassa, thus signifying Wichita but no more. 

Benard de La Harpe named the Toayas (the 

1541 to^a.y),orTawehash, in his 1118-1720Journal 

(folio 19) but provided no settlement location for 

them. In the Journal Historique written a few years 

later (in Boimare, 1831:208), he stated that they 

lived forty leagues north of the touacaro, which 

could refer to the Neodesha locality. 

He was told (1718-1720, folio 20) that the 

Wichita proper (first noted in 1718 on a Guillaume Delisle map) and Yscanis were living "60 

leagues north-northwest" of the touacaro. This may 

refer to the Deer Creek tributary region, Kay 

County, Oklahoma, where archeological remains 

similar to those of the Quiviran Great Bend Aspect occur, or to a locality farther upstream, 

nearer Walnut River, for instance. No home locality is given in the same Journal (folio 19) for 

the adeco or honecha, who apparently comprised 

other Wichita bands. The daily journal, the 1720 

La Harpe-Gavengeau map (M. Wedel 1981, fig. 

10), and the Journal Historique produced in the 

1720s considered together reflect understandable 

confusion on La Harpe's part as to exactly where 

the unvisited Wichita settlements were to be 

found. 

Reasons for the southward move out of Quivira 

are unexplained. Perhaps an answer is to be found 

in an examination of Wichita relationships with 

their neighbors. For instance, some of the Pawnee 

to the north were now looked upon as enemies by 

the Wichita. It was the Skiri who in the 1670s 

had first captured La Salle's Pana slave (M. 

Wedel, 1973:204). A friendly alliance still existed 

with others, possibly those later known as South 

Bands. The Missouri were termed enemies. 

"Seven important villages" of the Arikara were 

remarked upon by the Wichita, but the basis for 

this knowledge was unrecorded. Relations with 

the Osage were described in Benard de La 

Harpe's 1718-1720 journal as hostile, but in the 

Journal Historique (Boimare, 1831:208) as cautiously friendly. The accuracy of the latter view 

is born out by the Osage who dared to enter a 

Wichita village at night to warn of Dutisne's 

approach and by the presence of a Mento (Wich-
NUMBER 30 125 

ita) trader (M. Wedel, 1972-1973:162), possibly 

a touacaro, in an Osage village when Dutisne was 

there. On the other hand, this Frenchman reported that the Osage stole horses from the Wichita. 

The Apache, called kinne.s by the Wichita 

(Rood, pers. comm.), a term spelled cancy by La 

Harpe, were the most hated foes. Dutisne commented (Benard de La Harpe, 1718-1720, folio 

21 verso) that the two Indian groups "waged a 

cruel war, even eating each other." This La Harpe 

also learned when a Wichita chief explained regretfully that they had eaten 17 Apache at a 

public ceremony a month before, so that only one 

remained as a gift for the Frenchman. Padouca 

may have been the name used by Benard de La 

Harpe (1718-1720, folios 19 verso-20) to indicate 

the Comanche. By 1719 they had appeared on 

the western horizon of the Wichita and were 

considered enemies, but meetings seem to have 

been sporadic. Evidently the Escanjaques were no 

longer a menace. The Kansa are not mentioned. 

The Caddo on Red River south of the Ouachita Mountains were said to know little of the 

Wichita. The few Canicons just down the Arkansas 

from the Tawakoni were friendly neighbors. 

To judge from the preceding information, the 

Wichita were still in control of a large segment of 

the Middle Arkansas River in 1719. They were, 

however, more on the defensive than a century 

before, due evidently to hostile Missouri-Platte 

River Indians, such as the Skiri and Missouri. 

Even with the move of some bands southward, 

all of these Wichita remained in the same physiographic province they occupied in the 1500s, 

where the same wild food plants, birds, and animals were available. 

It is somewhat surprising that tattooing was 

not mentioned by either Frenchman. Since in 

later years, and as we have seen in former ones, 

this feature of their appearance was considered 

notable, it must have been something already 

familiar to both men. The Indians who assembled 

at the Tawakoni village were said to speak different languages, indicating probably different band 

dialects. 

By this time most hamlets had consolidated 

into villages or towns. The houses were like those 

described by the Spaniards—tall, dome-shaped, 

characterized by their cover of straw and reeds. 

La Harpe observed (Boimare, 1831:214) that 

"Above his door, each chief of a nation [Wichita 

subdivision] has his coat-of-arms painted on a 

circular piece of hide [evidently miscopied 

"copper" in the 1718-1720 journal, folio 20], 

some representing the sun, some the moon, or the 

stars, or some others different animals." Arbors 

such as those used by the Caddo proper (M. 

Wedel, 1978, fig. 2) were adjacent to the houses. 

The only population figures available for 1719 

are those provided by Dutisne when he estimated 

there were 200 to 250 warriors in each oi the panis 

villages he described. Using a multiplier of 5, this 

would indicate 1000 to 1250 people in each village. This agrees with the projections of 1040 to 

1300 people, derived from a calculation using 

Dutisne's estimate of about 130 dwellings per 

village, and the figure of 8 to 10 people per house 

given by Onate and Marcy (U.S. Congress, 

1854:77). If these were Taovayas, they constituted, 

according to Benard de La Harpe (1718-1720, 

folio 19 verso) the largest Wichita band. 

Wichita economy was still based on a combination of hunting and horticulture, along with 

root-gathering and use of wild fruits and nuts. A 

semi-sedentary living pattern was described by 

Benard de La Harpe when he wrote (1718-1720, 

folio 20) that the Indians "leave all their villages 

in the month of October to go on the hunt from 

which they do not return until the month of 

March in order to sow their corn, beans and 

calabashes (squash?) which they eat in the summer." Had he known of a corresponding summer 

village hunt, it would be expected he would have 

mentioned it, since it would have had significance 

for traders. However, because he did not, one still 

cannot confidently assume there was none. In 

1541, Coronado had found most of the Quivirans 

in their villages when he arrived unexpectedly in 

early July. 

There is no reference in 1719 to elevated granaries. Perhaps they were too vulnerable to enemy 

raids when villages were deserted during hunts of 

several months. 
126 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

The winter hunt was facilitated by the horses 

the Wichita now possessed, Spanish mounts usually obtained by raiding. Dutisne estimated there 

were about 300 horses in the two villages near the 

Verdigris, indicating that a substantial proportion of the 450 warriors still did not own any. 

This deficiency explains in part the high esteem 

in which the animals were held. 

The principal game hunted, aside from land 

and water fowl, continued to be bison, deer, and 

bear. To the same list of cultigens given by the 

Spaniards, La Harpe added tobacco. When ripe, 

the plants were pounded between two stones 

(Boimare, 1831:213) and made into flat loaves 

for future use. 

Of all the Wichita divisions, the touacaro were 

reported to La Harpe to be the most respected, 

evidently the highest ranking band. It was a 

touacaro "chief who, having been informed of La 

Harpe's imminent arrival, led a group of "chiefs" 

to meet the approaching visitors some distance 

from his village. After demonstrations of friendship, he and the Frenchman made speeches and 

participated in a feast consisting of "cornbread 

mixed with some squash {giromont) and smoked 

meat" (Benard de La Harpe, 1718-1720, folio 

19). La Harpe was then helped onto a fine horse 

which he rode almost to the village, a new form 

of processional which utilized the esteemed animals. Here he dismounted so that two prominent 

men could carry him on their shoulders, their 

faces turned toward the ground, to the dwelling 

of the "chief" This was the documented oldtime 

manner of bringing an honored guest before the 

head chief of a Caddo settlement. 

After the Frenchman was placed on a bison 

robe on a wooden platform, presumably shared 

with the chief, a number of principal men encircled him and each put his hands in those of La 

Harpe to indicate friendship. A gift exchange 

followed with La Harpe receiving an "eagle 

feather crown," probably the headdress style 

characteristic of Southeastern and Caddo Indians, one distinct from the popularized Plains 

headdress with the feathered trail. He was also 

given two feathered "calumets," perhaps pipestems only, one signifying war and one peace. He 

characterized them as the most valuable present 

the Wichita could give. 

Dutisne, in contrast, sent no representative 

ahead to the Taovayas, if such they were, and was 

greeted with hostility. Ultimately he succeeded in 

setting up an alliance and was ritually fed by the 

chief at the accompanying feast. 

Only a few of the status symbols of chieftainship were noted in 1719. La Harpe observed that 

the assembled head chiefs were almost always 

surrounded by men of rank who were eating, 

smoking, or playing games. When food was 

brought to the touacaro chief he ate some, then 

shared the rest. He was described as unmarried 

with the privilege of calling for any woman he 

desired. 

The calumet ceremony was the highlight of 

Benard de La Harpe's visit (1718-1720, folio 19). 

Dutisne was not so honored. Ceremonial dancing 

and singing lasted for almost two days and a 

night, with the leaders, the elderly Yscanis and 

Taovayas head chiefs, manipulating the calumets 

"with infinite skill." They extolled the advantages 

of the alliance being consummated. On the second day. La Harpe was carried to a seat under 

an arbor where his head, hands, feet, and stomach 

were washed (Boimare, 1831:211) and his face 

painted blue and red. He received presents of 

thirty bison robes, rock salt, tobacco cakes, verdigris, ultramarine, and a young Apache slave. 

The Frenchman in return gave presents of European trade goods valued at nearly 1500 livres. 

This would indicate a rather thin spread of trade 

items. One wonders if any reached people below 

those of high rank. 

La Harpe was unsuccessful in learning much 

about the religion of the Wichita. As a result of 

Indian reticence, he decided (1718-1720, folio 20 

verso) that "they have little of it," preferring 

bodily pleasures. He was informed, however, that 

they recognized a Great Spirit, which they venerated under different forms, and it was to this 

being they presented the first fruits of the earth. 

Then he was told further of a black man with 

horns who loaded the dead into a large pirogue 

taking those who had been good to a bison-filled 

prairie and the others "who have not been war-
NUMBER 30 127 

riors and have served their nation badly" 

(1718-1720, folio 20 verso) to arid country. 

To turn to material culture, the Wichita had 

evidently added a native-made lance to their 

weaponry (M. Wedel, 1972-1973:157) since the 

1500s. They were said to make hide armor for 

themselves including vests and breast-plates capable of deflecting arrows, and additionally now, 

armor for their horses. They carried hide shields. 

Since travel was on overland trails, they had no 

pirogues. A feather fan, perhaps a bird wing, was 

used (Benard de La Harpe, 1718-1720, folio 19) 

to keep insects away. Waterproof woven-reed 

platters were admired. No use of native or imported metal was reported. 

The surprised reaction of the Touacaro head 

chief to the nominal amount of trade goods presented by La Harpe at the welcoming ceremony 

adds to a conviction that as yet the Wichita had 

not received a notable quantity of these items or 

even a few with regularity. Dutisne counted six 

guns in the Wichita village of 200 or more warriors. While La Harpe was on the Arkansas, a 

Chickasaw Indian with a backpack of trade goods 

arrived from the Yazoo River region, probably 

directed by Carolina Englishmen desirous of projecting their influence into French-claimed territory. The peddler could not have provided many 

articles at a time. They would have supplemented 

a few items that occasional French traders provided or that were carried in the travels of individuals like the Mento (Wichita) chief, whom 

Dutisne had met at the Osage village and with 

whom he had traded at Natchitoches, French 

Louisiana, a few years earlier. In the orations 

made at the calumet ceremony, it was emphasized that this alliance (Benard de La Harpe 

1718-1720, folio 19 verso) would particularly 

benefit the Wichita in that the French now would 

bring firearms for their protection and various 

other merchandise. 

The Wichita in 1748-1749 

Some 30 years after La Harpe and Dutisne 

visited the Wichita, deserters from the colony of 

French Louisiana passed from Arkansas Post on 

the Mississippi River to Spanish New Mexico by 

way of two Wichita villages lying on the west side 

of Arkansas River. They had hoped to find in 

Spanish territory a more congenial environment 

in which to make their livelihood. Four of these 

men, three soldiers and one professional hunter, 

mistakenly called traders by some writers, were 

interrogated after their arrest in 1748 and 1749 

in New Mexico. Their testimonies, taken by Governor Tomas Velez Cachupin, are to be found in 

Provincias Internas, vol. 37 of the Archivo General 

de la Nacion, Mexico City (see M. Wedel, 1981, 

app. A). 

The questions put to these men were primarily 

designed to obtain information on the extent of 

French influence and settlement in the Mississippi 

Valley. Nonetheless, the replies give some idea of 

the Wichita situation. Scraps of information from 

other contemporary documents supplement that 

acquired from the testimonies. Even then the 

data on the Wichita at this time are very limited. 

The men described only the two villages they 

visited. According to their recorded locations, 

they may be identified with the Deer Creek and 

Bryson-Paddock archeological sites (M. Wedel, 

1981:5) lying just over 1.5 miles (2.5 km) apart in 

Kay County, Oklahoma. Pottery, suggestive of 

the Great Bend Aspect of the Kansas or Quivira 

region, many stone and bone native-made artifacts, and an abundance of French trade goods 

are found there in association. For the first time, 

a village fortification may be described, consisting 

of what has been interpreted as a stockade and 

ditch system (M. Wedel, 1981:59, 61) with some 

kind of openings in the stockade through which 

guns could be fired. Although the description 

implies that the entire village was fortified, only 

part may have been as was the situation at the 

later Taovayas (Longest site) village on Red River 

(Parilla, 1763; Trevino, 1765). 

The inhabitants of the villages were called by 

the deserters both Panipiques, that is, pricked or 

tattooed Pawnee or Caddoan-speakers, and Jumanos, a name given by Spaniards to the Wichita. 

These they unquestionably were. Probably they 

were mostly Taovayas. As in the 1500s, their 

streaked appearance, resulting from extensive tat-
128 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

tooing, was thought worthy of special comment. 

It is likely that Yscanis and Wichita proper were 

also in the region, but their exact geographical 

relationship to the Taovayas is never specified. 

About 1750-1751 it was reported (M. Wedel, 

1981:46) that a Wichita village, decimated a few 

years previously by measles and smallpox, had 

recently been totally destroyed by the Osage. 

Neither its band identification nor specific location is known, but it was surely not the Deer 

Creek or Bryson-Paddock villages. The population of these two settlements was variously estimated as between 1500 and 2500, figures not 

dissimilar to those projected for the villages Dutisne visited. There is the likelihood, however, 

that with Wichita re-grouping during 30 years, 

such a comparison is unfruitful. 

In the interim between 1719 and 1748, the 

Tawakoni had moved into Spanish Texas. According to members of an Osage war party who 

in 1742 visited a camp of Andre Fabry de La 

Bruyere on the Canadian River (M. Wedel, 

1981:32), these Wichita had moved to that stream 

c. 1737, soon thereafter to Red River, and then 

farther south seeking protection from hostile 

raids. The Osage had become determined, aggressive enemies and were probably responsible 

in part for this move. Simultaneously, however, 

French officials at Natchitoches were offering 

enticements to these Wichita to enter that trading 

sphere. 

The Osage were also keeping the more northern 

Arkansas River Wichita involved in frequent hostilities (M. Wedel, 1981:46). The pananas were 

said by the deserters to be Wichita enemies, but 

it is not made clear if this meant all Pawnee. In 

1752, however, an alliance was reported between 

Wichita, panana, Comanche, and later Ae. There 

are hints this alliance was inspired by the desire 

for increased intertribal trade, but cooperative 

counter-action against the Osage (M. Wedel, 

1981:47) may have been a consideration too. 

There is almost no evidence of its effectiveness or 

duration. It may have been an ephemeral arrangement. 

A longer-lasting alliance had been set up between Wichita and Comanche, circa 1746-1747, 

according to the deserters. It permitted peaceful 

trading activities, but these appear from slender 

evidence (M. Wedel, 1981:42-44) to have been 

extensive for only two or three mid-century years 

before the Wichita moved from the Arkansas 

River. It resulted also in at least one joint attack 

upon the Osage. It made possible a safe journey 

westward for those who testified in Santa Fe. 

The Wichita were seen as "very warlike," with 

all four deserters commenting on the continuing 

custom of eating parts of enemy captives. Felipe 

de Sandoval, the Spaniard, observed them receiving Indian slaves from the Comanche. It is apparent not all were traded on to Europeans by 

Wichita traders. Frequent lack of powder and 

lead for bullets restricted the use of guns. In fact, 

Sandoval thought the Indians were not very 

skilled in their use. Indications are, therefore, that 

the gun was still not the principal weapon. 

The deserters' testimonies contain no data on 

the sociocultural aspects of Wichita life. The Indians are dubbed "pagans." The typical grass 

houses are again described as in 1541, 1601, and 

1719, but no other objects of material culture are 

mentioned. 

The native economy described in the 1500s 

and in 1719 had been supplemented by a French 

hunting enterprise (M. Wedel, 1981:44-46), 

which was headquartered in the two Wichita 

villages. Here, it was reported, the Indians and 

perhaps some Frenchmen now lived the year 

around. Professional French hunters were seeking 

meat, tallow, and bear oil to supply the domestic 

trade of the lower Louisiana colony, as well as 

Caribbean Island and overseas trade. They enlisted the cooperation of the Indians in their 

project: the men in providing horses and hunting 

with them for bison, deer, and bear, and the 

women in helping to process the animal products. 

This included preparation of hides, preservation 

of meat by drying and presumably salting, and 

rendering of tallow and bear oil. Although, in 

return, the French gave trade items to the Indians, these villages were not functioning as trading posts in the usual sense of the term. The 

quantity of trade goods must have fluctuated 

considerably since their availability to French 
NUMBER 30 129 

hunters and traders during the 1740s and 1750s, 

a period of alternating international war and 

peace, vacillated accordingly. These Wichita may 

have been the beneficiaries of a notable amount 

of trade goods only in the years 1750-1752 (M. 

Wedel, 1981:46-48), when many more ships arrived from France than ever before and when 

Arkansas River traffic was less subject to Osage 

Indian attack than previously. 

Possession of a number of horses made it possible to bring back the large quantity of meat 

necessary to satisfy the French hunters, an 

amount far exceeding that formerly required for 

village sustenance only. It has been proposed 

(Steen, 1953:187) that in connection with the 

cooperative enterprise, more butchering may 

have taken place in the villages themselves than 

at the kill site as before. The Wichita procured 

their horses from the Comanche, both in group 

and individual trading sessions and also through 

raids on Plains Apache and Spaniards. 

By 1753 this joint enterprise seems to have been 

dissolving. With the development of the French 

and Indian War in 1754, shipping was again 

endangered, causing trade items to be in short 

supply. Firearms were by order restricted to 

French military forces. In addition, Indian warfare was more and more drawing the Wichita 

away from hunting game beyond their personal 

needs. They were also distracted (probably with 

French encouragement) by the proposed Spanish 

protection of the Plains Apache at the San Saba 

mission and presidio. By 1758, all the Wichita 

remaining on or near the Arkansas River apparently had left the region (M. Wedel, 1981:48) 

that had been their homeland for at least 250 

years and had moved south to Red River. Here 

they were greeted with pleasure by Frenchmen 

based in Natchitoches who hoped for their cooperation in confining the Spaniards to the region 

south of that river. 

The Wichita, 1541-1750s, A Changing Lifeway 

From the viewpoint of the Wichita, their life in 

the 1500s must have been quite satisfactory. This 

documentary review has shown, however, that it 

altered in numerous ways in the following two 

centuries. It is true that certain distinctive cultural traits are recorded as persisting, especially 

those that may have been of some antiquity and 

that were shared with the Caddo proper, such as 

tattooing, grass houses, and, of course, linguistic 

family. The environment of their shifting settlements was also unchanged until moves were made 

in the 18th century to Red River and farther 

south, where this study does not follow them. The 

economy of horticulture and hunting, supplemented by gathering, continued to prevail even 

after it was overlaid with a French professional 

hunting activity in the 1740s and early 1750s. 

Two subdivisions of the Wichita, namely the 

Tawakoni and Tawehash, are documented 

through the period examined. The Yscanis and 

Wichita proper may have been present but unrecognized before 1719. This may also be true of 

the smaller Wichita groups named by Benard de 

La Harpe which, however, were unrecorded afterwards as well, presumably because of their 

merging with other Wichita-speakers. A band 

settlement pattern consisting of a set of two villages near together is documented in 1683, c. 1699 

on a Marc Bergier, S.J., map (M. Wedel, 1979, 

fig. 1), in 1719, and 1748-1749. 

The changes occurring after the 16th century 

that are explicitly documented or implied include 

a shift in settlement locations and pattern; a move 

from raiding to more intensified warfare; variations in intertribal relations and in the Indian 

slave trade pattern; modification of hunting procedures; acquisition of horses, the lance, and European trade goods; the spread of European diseases; possible introduction of certain rituals as 

well as a new religious concept; adaptation of an 

old ceremony to new conditions. To what can 

these changes be attributed? Almost all seem to 

result in a variety of ways from the presence of 

Europeans in New Mexico and the Mississippi 

Valley. An interpretation of the recorded changes 

(limited always by the scope of documentation) 

becomes a case study of the multipronged influence of Europeans over 200 years on this southern 

prairie-plains Indian people. 

Unfortunately, a paucity of pertinent docu-
130 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

mentation does not permit one to obtain a particularized and coherent view of how the 16thcentury Caddoan-flavored, but bison dependent, 

lifeway of the Wichita became more oriented in 

the following centuries toward that of the Plains 

Indians. 

Therefore, let us examine with greater care 

some of the changes stimulated by Europeans, 

that were recorded. In the 1500s the Wichita 

though aggressive appear to have been living in 

comparative peace well beyond European influence. The raiding-type hostilities in which they 

and their enemies engaged (Newcomb, 1976:11) 

did not prevent certain bands from maintaining 

residency just south of Smoky Hill River. The 

situation evidently altered in the next century 

when Indians living some distance to the north 

and northeast inveigled Frenchmen with firearms, who had taken up residence among them, 

to join in assaults on their gunless foes, assaults 

that were probably aimed at procuring horses 

and slaves. There is documentation (M. Wedel, 

1981:34) for destructive attacks on the Wichita 

for a few years at the end of the 17th century. 

The chief culprits may have been those called 

enemies in 1719—the Missouri Indians and certain Pawnee. In 1693, the French formed a trading alliance (Thwaites, 1896-1901, 64:161, 169) 

with the Missouri, their friends of a decade, who 

were living in what is now central Missouri on 

the river of that name. This may have led to a 

series of cooperative war expeditions like those 

reportedly made to the Wichita the following 

year. In 1700 when Frenchmen were living and 

intermarrying with Pawnee (C. Delisle, [1702]) 

on the Platte River, Apache Indians told Spaniards (M. Wedel, 1981:34) that an entire Wichita 

village had been "destroyed" by Frenchmen, 

meaning probably an Indian-French party. Some 

of the horses the Pawnee already possessed (M. 

Wedel, 1973:205) may have been stolen earlier 

from the Wichita. This joint warfare appears to 

have eased when French traders, having become 

aware of these Plains Caddoans, began to view 

them as prospective trade associates. By this time, 

however, the bands that had lived on Smoky Hill 

River up until the 1680s or 1700 had moved to 

more southern positions in the Arkansas River 

basin. Their longterm penetration northward on 

the Plains had been checked with the help of 

French guns. 

The Wichita, having become aware of the 

benefits of French trade, may have located their 

new villages that were recorded in 1719 with an 

eye to acquisition of more European items. Their 

thinking on this is neither stated in documents 

nor readily apparent. Did those near the Verdigris expect to benefit from trade directly with the 

French or through Osage middlemen? Had the 

Tawakoni set up a village on Wealaka Ridge 

hoping to place themselves where French traders 

or Indian entrepreneurs from Red River might 

regularly contact them? 

The new settlements were no longer composed 

of hamlets like those the 16th and early 17th 

century Spaniards described. Instead, their inhabitants had joined together forming large villages, presumably for greater security from gunbearing enemies. By the middle of the 18th century, thus at the end of the 200-year period under 

study, it had evidently become necessary to fortify 

villages to some extent. 

What 18th-century warfare patterns had 

brought this about? Hostile Indians to the southwest never seem to have been a severe threat to 

Wichita villages. Some, like the pedestrian Escanjaques, may have caused temporary flight from 

Quiviran hamlets when at times they raided gardens and the stored food reserves, but they were 

not responsible for permanent abandonment in 

historic times. In the 16th century they and probably other Indians on the southern Plains showed 

their animosity chiefly by capturing Wichita to 

trade as slaves to Pueblo Indians. 

In the latter half of the 1600s, the Apache 

became the leading enemies of the Wichita in 

that southwest region, trading the captives they 

procured to Spanish colonists now living in New 

Mexico rather than to Pueblo Indians. The increased mobility of the Apache, mounted by this 

time on Spanish horses, created more opportunities for hostile encounters with the Wichita. The 

latter, on their part, found raids on the Apache a 

good way to increase their precious horse herds. 
NUMBER 30 131 

I have seen no record of the Wichita passing 

Apaches or other captured Indians directly to the 

French in Illinois, but some of their captives may 

have been reaching Frenchmen in 1716-1718 at 

Natchitoches where Dutisne had purchased Indian slaves (M. Wedel 1972-1973:161) from the 

Mento (Wichita) trader. Nevertheless, a number 

were still being killed and eaten ceremonially at 

this time, and even later in 1749 when the Comanche were trading Indian captives to the 

Wichita in exchange for French trade goods. 

The Comanche, who were unmentioned in the 

Coronado and Onate documents, were perhaps 

as Padouca called enemies by the Wichita in 1719, 

but there is no evidence of destruction of villages. 

After these Shoshoneans had displaced the 

Apache northeast of New Mexico, a reversal of 

the relationship with the Wichita occurred. This 

was signified by the alliance made about 1746-

1747 that was still in effect when the Wichita 

moved to Red River a decade later. This partnership, and the more temporary alliance of 1752, 

which included also panana and Ae, were developments uncharacteristic of the Wichita in earlier 

historic times, probably because they were unnecessary. These alliances have often been attributed 

to French manipulation, but there is no firm 

evidence (Newcomb and Field, 1967:256-257) for 

this viewpoint. In fact, some considerations (M. 

Wedel, 1981:42-44, 47) make it highly unlikely. 

On the basis of known evidence, I would agree 

with W.W. Newcomb, Jr., and W.T. Field in 

thinking the alliance of the 1740s to have been a 

native arrangement sparked by a desire for European commodities, particularly horses, mules, 

and guns as available, for their own use or for a 

middleman trade. This alliance also led to joint 

Comanche-Wichita war parties, and, only incidentally it seems, allowed safe passage for those 

Europeans who crossed from the Wichita villages 

to Comanche settlements and on to New Mexico. 

The later short-lived alliance of 1752 was probably similar in nature. 

It was the Osage who took more concentrated 

warfare to the Wichita in their villages after 1719. 

At first it may have related to Osage uneasiness 

provoked by French traders who, in the 1720s, 

sought to bypass these Siouans in order to trade 

directly with the Wichita for horses. Later, when 

the Osage took over the horse trade with the 

Illinois and Louisiana French, the Indians needed 

to constantly replenish their supply, one source of 

which was the Wichita herds. In addition, there 

is some reason to surmise that in the maneuvering 

of the Franco-British conflict of the 1730s and 

1740s, the Osage were sometimes set upon the 

Wichita (M. Wedel, 1981:41), e.g., when the 

latter harbored Indians sympathetic to the British. No doubt other factors were involved that are 

not readily apparent in the records. The severity 

of the attacks by better-armed Osage evidently 

strongly influenced the Wichita subgroup living 

on the Verdigris River to move west, and afterwards, affected the Tawakoni decision to migrate 

south into Spanish Texas. It was later reported 

that the Osage completely destroyed a Wichita 

village. By this time, those remaining at the Deer 

Creek and Bryson-Paddock sites, having apparently fortified themselves to some extent, were 

enlisting the help of their Indian allies in their 

punitive attacks. Undoubtedly, Osage harrassment contributed to the final resolution of these 

Wichita to leave the Arkansas River basin. 

In review, the fluctuating patterns of alliance 

and hostility, the changing nature of warfare, and 

the population movements recounted above are 

seen to have resulted from various stimuli traceable to the European: namely, competition for 

gun and horse possession, the Indian craving for 

all kinds of trade goods, Indian jealousy of the 

extension of French trade to more distant Plains 

tribes, the Indian slave trade, the rivalry of European nations for control in North America that 

utilized Indians as pawns in the power plays. 

Many of the factors listed above were contributing simultaneously to warfare elsewhere in the 

Plains. 

The ever-increasing amount of time and energy 

that was apparently expended in the late 17th 

and 18th centuries on a warfare more destructive 

than the earlier raids made for family revenge, 

for horses, for honors, and so on, must have had 

its effect on various sociocultural aspects of Wichita life. It is unfortunate that information of this 
132 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

nature is not to be found in documentary sources. 

Horses, introduced into the southwest by Spanish colonists, altered the Wichita life style in a 

number of ways other than in generating hostilities. There is no evidence these Indians had horses 

in 1601, but prior to 1683, according to La Salle's 

Pana slave (M. Wedel, 1973:205), they had come 

into possession of "many" Spanish mounts, using 

them for war, transport, and the hunt. Just how 

this development changed hunting and butchering practices is undocumented, although it is 

obvious that use of the horse would have permitted longer journeys and the transport of heavier 

loads. Horses would have been essential to the 

mid-eighteenth century French-directed hunting 

activity in the Deer Creek vicinity. 

They were probably a factor in the shift from 

numerous extended-family hunts such as those 

carried on near Quiviran hamlets in early historic 

times to the seasonal community hunts of several 

months duration that were recorded later as characteristic of the Wichita lifeway when the Wichita 

were living in large villages. 

The animals were also used ceremonially when 

a horse procession was combined in 1719 with the 

older pedestrian form of initial meeting and welcoming ceremony. To what appears to have been 

an old pre-horse, leather armor tradition for warriors was added a native-made, Spanish-style 

leather hat for riders (M. Wedel, 1973:205) and 

leather protective gear for horses. Moreover, an 

Indian-made form of lance, an imitation of the 

typical weapon of mounted Spaniards, may have 

been developed when the horse was adopted (M. 

Wedel, 1972-1973:157). Horses quickly became 

an intrinsic part of Wichita life. 

The elaborate initial meeting and welcoming 

ceremonies, organized for notable visitors and 

described by Benard de La Harpe, were probably 

abandoned in large part betwen 1719 and 1748-

1749, when Frenchmen were in and out of Arkansas River Wichita villages with some frequency and friendly Comanche were making 

many informal visits. Regretably, the formalities 

attending the formation of Indian alliances are 

unreported. 

The La Harpe description of the 1719 calumet 

or pipe ceremony performed for him by the Wichita is, I believe, unique in writings about these 

people and has a special importance for students 

of that ceremony. When Alice C. Fletcher prepared her monograph on the calumet ceremony, 

which she called Hako (Fletcher, 1904), she presented the Chawi [Grand Pawnee] version. James 

R. Murie, whose mother was a Skiri, wrote in his 

work "The Ceremonies of the Pawnee" (1981, 

1:154) that that version included "a number of 

Wichita songs that are not in the Skiri ritual." 

George A. Dorsey (1906:52n.) was told in the 

early 1900s that the Skiri attributed the ceremony 

to the Wichita. Earlier, he (Dorsey, 1904:17) had 

written that the Wichita themselves claimed it 

began with them. Conversely, however, Murie 

(1981, 1:154) noted also in his study that the Skiri 

said they had originated it, as still other tribes 

have been heard to do. 

It may be that the Chawi did indeed borrow 

the ceremony from the Wichita, but whether they 

in turn had taken their version from someone else 

or possibly had evolved it from a more generalized 

widespread Plains ceremony is a moot question. 

Nor have we any idea when, before 1719, it 

became a part of the Wichita ceremonial roster. 

The apparent paucity of contacts with the French 

before that date would make a European part in 

a possible borrowing questionable. 

On the other hand, the devil concept certainly 

smacks of European missionary influence, Spanish perhaps, and may even have been derived 

from Father Juan Padilla who returned to Quivira soon after accompanying Coronado there. 

The ritual joining of hands recorded also in 1719 

seems more European then Indian. 

As to the acquisition of articles of European 

make, the Wichita no doubt obtained some from 

the 1541 and 1601 Spanish expeditions and others 

from scavenging the victims of the Gutierrez de 

Humana expedition of about 1594. By 1719 they 

had received items of metal and glass from French 

and British sources as well, apparently not in 

quantity, but enough to make the Indians covet 

more. Trade goods were undoubtedly one of the 
NUMBER 30 133 

effective enticements dangled before the Tawakoni by the French on Red River in persuading 

the Indians to move south in the 1730s. The 

supply of European items for those remaining on 

the Arkansas River increased at times in succeeding decades, but the arrival of traders was unpredictable. The Wichita must have enjoyed their 

first great wealth of trade items circa 1750-1752 

during the French hunting activity when, between European wars, the French Louisiana ports 

were crowded with ships of the trans-Atlantic and 

Gulf trade. At the beginning of the French-Indian 

war in the Ohio River valley in 1754, this bonanza ended (M. Wedel, 1981:47-48). So, when 

the last of the Wichita left the Arkansas River 

basin, the highly-regarded trade items had not 

yet supplanted many native-made stone and bone 

artifacts or pottery, if the archeological evidence 

from Deer Creek and Bryson-Paddock sites is 

being correctly interpreted. 

Once the Wichita received European trade 

goods, their appetite was whetted for more. Promised a reward of this nature, they were sometimes 

persuaded to engage in cooperative activities with 

Europeans or in hostile actions against mutual 

enemies. The Indians developed their firmest ties 

in the 18th century with the French, but these 

relationships were not always dependable, a fact 

illustrated by the murder of four Frenchmen in 

1752 by Arkansas River Wichita (M. Wedel, 

1981:47). 

Although these Wichita had been affected in 

numerous ways between 1541 and 1750 by the 

European presence in North America, they continued to maintain a remarkably high degree of 

independence because of the distance of their 

homeland from the main areas of contention 

between France, England, and Spain. Their role 

at this time in the political maneuverings of the 

Europeans was not merely as political pawns. 

Literature Cited 

Benard de La Harpe, Jean-Baptiste 

1718-1720. Journal du voyage de la Louissianne fait par 

le S"^ Bernard [sic] de La Harpe et des decouvertes 

qu'il a fait dans la party de I'ouest de cette colonie. 

Mss. frangais 8989, folios 1-36, Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris. 

Boimare, A.-L., editor 

1831. Journal historique de I'e'tablissement des franqais a la 

Louisiane, compiled by J-B. Benard de La Harpe. 

New Orleans and Paris: Hector Bossange. 

Bolton, Herbert E. 

1916. Spanish Explorations in the Southwest, 1542-1706. 

New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 

1949. Coronado: Knight of Pueblos and Plains. Albuquerque: 

Whittlesey House and University of New Mexico 

Press. 

Castaiieda de Najera, Pedro de 

1596. [Copy of] Relacion de la Jornada de 

Cibola. . .donde .se trata de aquellos poblados y 

ritos y costumbres, la qual fue el aiio de 1540. 

Rare Books Room, New York Public Library, 

New York. 

Delisle, Claude 

[1702]. Memoires de M"" le Sueur, 1699-1702. No. 2jj56-

9, Archives de la Marine, Archives Nationales, 

Paris. 

Dorsey, George A. 

1904. Mythology of the Wichita. Carnegie Institution Publication, 21. 

1906. Pawnee: Mythology (Pt. I). Carnegie Institution Publication, 59. 

Fletcher, Alice C. 

1904. The Hako: A Pawnee Ceremony. Twenty-second 

Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 

1900-1901, 2:5-372. 

Hammond, George P., and Agapito Rey 

1940. Narratives of the Coronado Expedition 1540-1542. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 

1953. Don Juan de Ofiate: Colonizer of New Mexico, 1595-

1628. 2 volumes. Albuquerque: University of New 

Mexico Press. 

Informacion contra Coronado 

1544. Seville, A.G.L, Justicia, leg. 1021, pieza 4. Transcript, Bolton collection, Bancroft Library, University of California at Berkeley. 

Murie, James R. 

1981. Ceremonies of the Pawnee, Part I: The Skiri. 

Douglas R. Parks, editor. Smithsonian Contributions 

to Anthropology, 27:1-182. 

Newcomb, W.W., Jr. 

1961. The Indians of Texas from Prehistoric to Modern Times. 

Austin: University of Texas Press. 
134 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1976. The People Called Wichita. Phoenix: Indian Tribal 

Series. 

Newcomb, W.W., Jr., and W.T. Field 

1967. An Ethnohistoric Investigation of the Wichita Indians in the Southern Plains. In Robert E. Bell, 

E.B. Jelks, W.W. Newcomb, compilers, A Pilot 

Study of Wichita Indian Archeology and Ethnohistory, 

Final Report, pages 240-354. Washington, D.C: 

National Science Foundation. 

Pacheco, D. Joaquin, and Francisco de Cardenas, editors 

1865. Coleccwn de Documentos Ineditos, Relativos al Descumbrimiento, Conquista y Colonizacion de las posesiones 

espanolas en America. Volume 3. Madrid. 

Parrilla, Diego Ortiz 

1763. Testimonio de los Auttos fhos a consulta del Coronel D". . ., Seville, Archivo General de Indias, 

Audiencia de Mejico. Transcript, no. 92-6-22, 

University of Texas Archives, Austin. 

Smith, T. Buckingham, editor 

1857. Coleccwn de varios documentos para la historia de la 

Florida y tierras adyacentes. Volume 1. London/Madrid. 

Steen, Charlie R. 

1953. Two Early Historic Sites on the Southern Plains. 

Texas Archeological Society Bulletin, 24:177-188. 

Swanton, John R. 

1942. Source Material on the History and Ethnology of 

the Caddo Indians. Bureau of American Ethnology 

Bulletin, 132. 

Thwaites, Reuben Gold, editor 

1896-1901. The Jesuit Relations and A Hied Documents: Travels and Explorations of the Jesuit Missionaries in New 

France, 1610-1791. 73 volumes. Cleveland. 

Treviiio, Antonio 

1765. Testimonio, Los Adaes, August 13. Bexar Archives, volume 42, University of Texas Archives, 

Austin. 

U.S. Congress 

1854. Exploration of the Red River of Louisiana, in the 

Year 1852, by Randolph B. Marcy. Executive 

Document, House of Representatives, 33rd Congress, 1st session. 

Wedel, Mildred Mott 

1972-1973. Claude-Charles Dutisne: A Review of His 

1719 Journeys. Great Plains Journal, 12(l):5-25; 

12(2): 147-173. 

1973. The Identity of La Salle's Pana Slave. Plains Anthropologist, 18(61):203-217. 

1976. Ethnohistory: Its Payoffs and Pitfalls for Iowa 

Archeologists.yowma/ of the Iowa Archeological Society, 

23:1-44. 

1978. La Harpe's 1719 Post on Red River and Nearby 

Caddo Settlements. Texas Memorial Museum Bulletin, 30. 

1979. The Ethnohistoric Approach to Plains Caddoan 

Origins. Nebraska History, 60(2): 183-196. 

1981. The Deer Creek Site, Oklahoma: A Wichita Village Sometimes Called Ferdinandina, An Ethnohistorian's View. Oklahoma Historical Society Series in 

Anthropology, 5. [Second printing.] 

In prep. They Called the Indian El Turco. 

Wedel, Mildred Mott, and Raymond J. DeMallie 

1980. The Ethnohistorical Approach in Plains Area 

Studies. In W.R. Wood and Margot Liberty, editors, Anthropology on the Great Plains, pages 110-128. 

Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. 

Wedel, Waldo R. 

1942. Archeological Remains in Central Kansas and 

Their Possible Bearing on the Location of Quivira. 

Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 101(7). 

1959. An Introduction to Kansas Archeology. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 174. 

Winship, George Parker 

1896. The Coronado Expedition, 1540-1542. Fourteenth 

Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1. 
Shelling Corn in the Prairie-Plains: 

Archeological Evidence and Ethnographic Parallels 

beyond the Pun 

David Mayer Gradwohl 

ABSTRACT 

This paper explores the contemporary, ethnographic, historic, and archeological evidence for 

the use of freshwater mussel shells as implements 

in shelling green corn. Today the Mesquakie 

Indians of central Iowa harvest green corn in the 

late summer. The green corn is parboiled and 

then shelled off the cob by using clam shells 

collected from the Iowa River. At present this 

practice is documented for eleven Native American groups in the Prairies and Plains extending 

back to the period of first observations by the 

French. Similar freshwater mussel shell artifacts 

are found in Oneota archeological sites along the 

Des Moines River along with evidence for the 

growing, harvesting, storing, and processing of 

corn. Comparable objects are noted in other Iowa 

sites, as well as some in Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and North Dakota. The 

documentation of this practice for nearly 1000 

years into the present is symbolic of the many 

continuities of IMative American traditions in the 

face of so-called assimilation by Euro-Americans. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—^Juanita Pudwill is presently a teacher in the North Wind Warriors 

Program, an innovative Title IV funded Native 

American educational project in Minneapolis, 

Minnesota. I am indebted to her not only for first 

bringing to my attention the use of clam shells as 

corn shellers and thus providing the spark for this 

David Mayer Gradwohl, Department of Sociology and Anthropology, 

Iowa State University, Ames, Iowa 50011. 

paper, but also for being my challenging student, 

patient teacher, and understanding friend. 

I would like to thank Frank and Adeline Wanatee (Mesquakie Indian Settlement, Tama, Iowa) 

and Mary Goose (Des Moines, Iowa) for sharing 

information with me concerning contemporary 

methods of shelling green corn at the Mesquakie 

Settlement. My gratitude is also expressed to 

Martha Royce Blaine (Oklahoma Historical Society, Oklahoma City), Dolores Gunnerson (Lincoln, Nebraska), David M. Hovde (South Dakota 

Archaeological Research Center, Fort Meade 

South Dakota), Douglas R. Parks (Mary College, 

Bismarck, North Dakota), Mildred Mott Wedel 

and Waldo R. Wedel (Smithsonian Institution) 

for pointing out ethnographic references for the 

use of shell. R. Stanley Riggle (Iowa State Historical Department, Iowa City) deserves many 

thanks for somehow finding the time beyond his 

gargantuan work schedule to identify the species 

of mussel shells considered in this paper. Sandra 

Wright (formerly with Iowa State University) is 

thanked for typing the final manuscript. Finally, 

I extend my deepest appreciation to Nancy Osborn (Iowa State University, Ames), who has 

assisted in a myriad of tasks in the field and 

laboratory and has, on the basis of her extensive 

knowledge of Native American food resources 

and preparation, provided valuable suggestions 

and criticisms as this project progressed. 

The investigation of the Oneota sites was part 

of a cooperative salvage archeological program 

135 
136 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

undertaken in Red Rock Reservoir by the National Park Service and Iowa State University 

between 1964 and 1968. A contract completion 

report covering sites included in these agreements 

was submitted to the National Park Service in 

1973. In 1976, Nancy Osborn wrote her Master's 

thesis on "The Clarkson Site (13WA2): An 

Oneota Manfestation in the Central Des Moines 

River Valley." The analysis of all of the Moingona Phase materials, however, has not yet been 

completed. 

Introduction 

Recently a friend of mine, Juanita Pudwill, 

then a student at Iowa State University, was 

engaged in a study of corn ceremonialism among 

American Indians. Her study was based, in part, 

on her own experiences and observations at the 

Mesquakie Settlement near Tama, Iowa, where 

she was formerly employed as a teacher of speech 

and drama at the local high school. As a portion 

of her project, she reported the following to me in 

1979: 

During the fall of 1976, I was invited to a friend's home 

on the Mesquakie Indian Settlement near Tama, Iowa, to 

take part in a corn harvest ceremony. I entered the house 

and went into the kitchen. A young woman of the family, 

who was a friend and former student of mine, was standing 

at the kitchen table sharpening the edge of a clam shell with 

a whetstone. There was a small box of the shells on the 

kitchen table. I asked her what she was doing. What I really 

meant was, "Why are you sharpening a shell?" She gave an 

upward and back nod of the head ... . Following her nod I 

went into the front room, where representatives of four 

generations of the family had gathered to perform an annual 

ceremony ... . I saw the use of the shell with the corn and 

immediately sat down with the family and began shelling 

corn. 

Other than surprise, I had two immediate reactions. The first was inappropriate but uncontrollable laughter at the thought of the delightful 

pun: shelling corn! The second was an archeological flashback to Oneota storage pits that I had 

excavated at sites in the central Des Moines River 

Valley (Figure 15). Among other things, the fill 

of the storage pits had contained scapula hoes, 

antler picks and rakes, corn kernels and cobs, and 

notable numbers of worked mussel shells (Figure 

16). 

As I excitedly thumbed into the Oxford English 

Dictionary and Webster's New World Dictionary in 

pursuit of the pun possibly perpetrated by Pilgrim 

perceptions of Indian ingenuity, I thought to 

myself, "It can't be true." I quickly found that, 

indeed, it was not true. Our present use of the 

English phrase "to shell"—as in corn, peas, or 

walnuts—comes from the Middle English schelle 

meaning "to peel"—as in "to remove [a seed] 

from its shell, husk, or pod." Worse than that, as 

far as the putatively post-Columbian pun was 

concerned, the Middle English schelle has a linguistic ancestry going all the way back to a 

reconstructed Indo-European base, *sqel-. 

The second and more serious question still 

remained. Could the worked mussel shell valves 

discovered in Oneota cache pits represent implements used in removing kernels from cobs as part 

of the green corn harvest ? 

The purpose of this paper is to discuss the 

contemporary ethnographic, historic, and archeological evidence for interpreting certain freshwater mussel valves as green corn shellers. This 

paper does not pretend to have captured all of 

the archeological examples or ethnographic analogs for clam shell corn shellers. My intent is 

rather to document the linkage of the archeological evidence with historic, as well as contemporary, behavior patterns and to focus attention on 

the social and ideological ramifications of these 

data. 

The methodological perspective employed in 

this paper is essentially that which is called the 

controlled ethnographic parallel or analogy. Ethnologists and social anthropologists typically use 

the method of controlled comparison (Eggan, 

1954) and have shown the utility of this approach 

in studying the archeology of the eastern United 

States (Eggan, 1952). Traditionally archeologists, 

spanning the gamut from the supposedly "old" 

to the presumably "new," have utilized this 

method in interpreting the function of artifacts, 

reconstructing culture history, and exploring theories of culture change (cf, Strong, 1936; Mott, 
NUMBER 30 137 

FIGURE 15.—Oneota storage pits being excavated at 13PK1, Howard Goodhue site, along the 

Des Moines River in central Iowa. 

1938; W. Wedel, 1938; Ascher, 1961; Binford, 

1962; Anderson, 1969). This study examines a 

specific shell artifact form with its broader socioFiGURE 16.—Soil matrix lifted from storage pit at 1 SWA 105, 

Cribbs' Crib site. Within matrix are cobs and kernels of 8-

and 10-row corn. 

economic and perhaps also magico-religious contexts. The spatial domain consists of eastern 

North America and more specifically the Prairies 

and Plains. The temporal control is approximately one millennium, from circa A.D. 900 or 

1000 to the present. 

The following discussion is presented in six 

parts. First there is a brief review of the literature 

pertaining to the use of mollusk shells by American Indians. The second section brings together 

the published historic and ethnographic references for the use of mussel valves as corn shellers. 

That part is followed by a short summary of 

alternate methods of shelling corn. The fourth 

portion of this paper presents information on the 

contemporary Mesquakie use of clam shells in 

processing green corn. These data supplement the 
138 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

much larger body of literature available on the 

Mesquakie, or as they have been labelled by 

Euro-Americans, the Fox (cf, Ward, 1909; Michelson, 1919; Jones, 1939; Tax, 1955; Gearing, 

Netting and Peattie, 1960; Gearing, 1970; McTaggart, 1976; A. Wanatee, 1978; D. Wanatee, 

1978; Waseskuk, 1978). The archeological evidence for artifacts fashioned from the valves of 

freshwater mussels is presented next. Specimens 

illustrated here are from the collections of the 

Iowa State University Archaeological Laboratory 

(ISU). Finally the discussion ends with some reflections on the necessity for working out welldocumented ethnographic parallels in archeology 

and, more importantly, the significance of archeological and historical data in helping to understand living people (cf, Gradwohl, 1978). In these 

ways the study of the past can be relevant not 

only to the present but to the future as well. 

Use of Mollusk Shells by Native Americans 

In perusing the historic and ethnographic literature pertaining to the Indians first encountered by the Europeans in what is now the northeastern and middle Atlantic regions of the United 

States, I am aware of only one reference to the 

use of mussel shells as implements for removing 

corn kernels from the cob. In the early eighteenth 

century John Gyles was taken captive by Native 

Americans in northern New England. There he 

(Gyles, 1736:11) observed and later recorded the 

following procedure among his captors: 

When the Corn is in the Milk they gather a large kettle and 

boil it on the Ears till its pretty hard, and then they take it 

up and shell it from the Cobb with Clam Shells ... . 

Further research may well reveal additional specific references, but most sources are vexingly 

vague as to the techniques of detaching kernels 

from the cob. 

Admittedly, some observers report that corn 

was "shelled," "removed," "shaved," "stripped 

off," "scraped," or "sliced" from the cob without 

bothering to indicate what tool was used to detach the kernels. The lack of references to implements could be taken as an indication that the 

corn was merely shelled by hand. There are. 

however, some specific references to shell implements in the early historic journals. The nature 

of these sources suggests that the use of mussel 

valves as corn shellers would have been reported 

more extensively if, indeed, shells were employed 

generally for that purpose. In 1612, for example. 

Captain John Smith noted that Native Americans in Virginia employed shell scrapers along 

with charring to fashion wooden platters for corn 

meal (Rasmussen, 1975:68), while in 1634 William Wood observed Indians in New England 

using "clamme shell-hooes" in tending their gardens of corn (Rasmussen, 1975:71). In his treatise 

of 1705, Robert Beverley illustrated a cockle shell 

spoon along with other dining accouterments 

being used by Indians in Virginia and commented that "the spoons which they eat with, do 

generally hold half a pint; and they laugh at the 

English for using small ones, which they must be 

forc'd to carry so often to their Mouths, that their 

Arms are in danger of being tir'd, before their 

Belly" (Beverley, 1968:182-184). In 1749 while 

traveling through New Jersey, Peter Kalm 

(1972:220-221) recorded his observation of sharp 

shells being used as knives in various cutting 

functions and as scrapers in the manufacture of 

canoes. 

The kinds of observations made by Smith 

(1977), Wood (1967), Beverely, and Kalm are 

reflected in the general but more extensive studies 

pertaining to the use of shells by Native Americans. The utilization of mussel valves in shelling 

corn is not mentioned by William H. Holmes 

(1883), W.J. Wintemberg (1908), Herbert W. 

Kuhm (1937), or M.R. Harrington (1938) in their 

comprehensive reviews and case studies. Those 

sources, however, document an impressive array 

of uses for shells as cups, dishes, spoons, knives, 

celts, scrapers, rasps, hoes, digging tools, fishhooks, fish lures, fish scalers, arrowheads, razors, 

tweezers, awls, punches, gaming pieces, musical 

instruments, and various ornaments including 

beads, pendants, pins, and gorgets. In certain 

areas of North America shells were used as currency or as symbols in dry paintings; in other 

areas, crushed shells served as tempering for pottery. 
NUMBER 30 139 

It is possible that still other uses, perhaps even 

including corn shellers, were cataloged by H.J. 

Boekelman who wrote an article in 1937 with the 

tantalizing title "Archeo- and Ethno-conchology: 

The Study of Man's Use of Shells" (Boekelman, 

1937). Unfortunately Boekelman's article is only 

a brief summary of his world-wide research and 

as such does not add much to the information 

contained in the previously mentioned papers. 

Boekelman reported that he had assembled 6000 

typewritten pages of literature, bibliography, abstracts, and translations from French, German, 

Spanish, Portuguese, and Japanese. Furthermore, 

he stated that he had deposited his collection of 

specimens at Tulane University for further study. 

Apparently Boekelman did not publish any further on this subject. At the present time my 

inquiries have not verified that Boekelman's archival materials and shell collections are still 

housed at Tulane University. 

Historic and Ethnographic References to the 

Use of Mussel Shells as Corn Shellers 

Among the tribes of the northeastern United 

States and the Atlantic seaboard there is an apparent, and I think real, paucity of data for the 

use of mussel valve corn shellers. However, one 

finds a definite pattern for this usage in searching 

through the historic and ethnographic literature 

on American Indian tribes of the Prairies and 

Plains. The available references which span 

nearly 300 years identify this practice among 

eleven groups, but further search will undoubtedly reveal more. The tribes now documented 

stretch west from the Great Lakes to central 

Nebraska and from Kansas into North Dakota, 

and represent three separate and distinct linguistic groups: Algonkian (Illinois, Prairie Potawatomi, Sauk, historic Fox, and contemporary Mesquakie), Siouan (Winnebago, loway, Oto, and 

Hidatsa), and Caddoan (Pawnee and Wichita). 

The earliest archival reference for the use of 

clam shells in processing green corn in the Prairies 

and Plains appears to be a late seventeenth-century document pertaining to the French occupation of the region around Fort St. Louis and 

Chicago. This document, often incorrectly referred to as the "De Cannes Memoir," is attributed to Pierre-Charles DeLiette, a cousin of and 

assistant to Henri Tonty (Hayne, 1969:435-436; 

Quaife, 1947:110-111). An observation among 

the Illinois, apparently in July of 1687 (in Pease 

and Werner, 1934:343-344), reads as follows: 

To return to the occupations of the women, at the end of 

July they begin to mix or dry the corn. They make two 

kinds. That which they roast gives them more trouble than 

that which they boil, for they have to make large griddles 

and exercise particular care to turn the ears from time to 

time to prevent their burning too much on one side, and 

afterwards they have to shell off the kernels. They therefore 

make very little of this kind. The kind which they boil they 

gather just as tender as the corn for roasting, and with shells, 

which they find more convenient than knives, they cut all 

the kernels, throwing away the cobs, until they have about 

the quantity they wish to cook for that day. They never keep 

any for the next day because of the excessive care needed to 

prevent it from turning sour. After this, as soon as it has 

boiled for a few minutes, they spread it on reed mats ... . 

The drying process usually takes two days. They make a 

great store of this kind. 

According to this document, the Illinois processed 

the early green corn in at least two ways—one of 

which involved the use of shells to remove the 

kernels from the cobs. The DeLiette Memoir also 

notes a still different manner of preparing the 

corn which ripened later in the summer (Pease 

and Werner, 1934:344). 

As regards the large ears which are ripe at the end of 

August, after they have gathered it they husk the ears and 

spread them on mats. In the evening they gather them into 

a heap and cover them well; when the sun has risen they 

spread them again, and they keep this up for a week; then 

they thresh it with big sticks six or seven feet long, in a place 

which they surround with matting to prevent the flying 

kernels from getting lost. 

The Illinois, as most Prairie and Plains horticultural groups, raised distinct varieties of corn, 

which ripened at separate times and were processed differently for various purposes. 

Among the Sauk, Alanson Skinner (1925:137-

138) reported that maize was eaten in the form of 

boiled corn, parched corn, pop corn, hominy, 

bread, cake, soup, dumplings, and ground meal. 

More specifically he (1925:137) reported that 

sweet corn, wisko'piminuk, is eaten green after boiling or 

roasting in the embers. It is also prepared by parboiling, 
140 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

drying over night and scraping from the cob with a mussel 

shell, the left valve of the animal being most convenient for 

the use of the ordinary right-handed person. It is then dried 

on mats spread in the hot sun on the ground. Two days 

exposure are enough to cure it for winter use. In this condition it is caWcd pagaswahuk and is ready to grind with mortar 

and pestle (pota'hagHn and pota'hagun hUskwan) to make corn 

meal. 

Skinner further noted that among the Sauk 

"green corn, while still somewhat milky, is 

scraped free from the cob with a deer's jaw." As 

noted below (p. 144), deer-jaw corn shellers are 

recorded ethnographically for other groups in the 

Prairies and Plains, as well as in the northeastern 

United States and Canada. 

The historic Fox also used clam shells in removing green corn from the cob. In his ethnographic treatise, the anthropologist, Dr. William 

Jones (1939:17), himself of Fox descent and upbringing, elucidates the spiritual as well as dietary 

aspects of maize consumption: 

Tamina (corn) is a manitou, and every little grain is a 

mortal. The name of each grain is wipita. All of these grains 

of corn have feelings like you and me, and when they are 

taken from the cob and wasted they feel sad and begin to 

weep. When WIsa'ka created tamina, he made it a food for 

the people (Foxes). When they eat tamina, the manitou goes 

into every part of the body, and that makes the people 

strong. The people need not have anything else before them 

to eat but tamina, because it has everything in itself to make 

them do what they wish. When they travel, they go much 

farther after eating tamina than after eating any other food. 

Tamina is a manitou, and that is why it has so much strength. 

In editing the above passage for the posthumous 

publication of Jones' monograph, Margaret Welpley Fisher added the following footnote (Jones, 

1939, n. 21): "Corn should be shelled from the 

cob with a clam shell, or if one has no shell, with 

a spoon. A knife should never be used." Fisher's 

citation documenting this practice was in reference to the contemporary Mesquakies in Iowa. 

The recording of this procedure was accomplished by Edgar R. Harlan, curator of Iowa's 

State Historical Museum in Des Moines, who 

had arranged a number of cross-cultural workshops in which Mesquakies discussed aspects of 

their lifeways with local school teachers. Harlan 

(1933:117) reported: 

The Indians explained to the teachers how the foods were 

prepared. In preparing corn the kernels were taken whole 

from the cob. Anciently they used, and now perfer to use, a 

fresh water clam-shell—a muscle [sic] shell. When they have 

no shell they use a spoon, never a knife as white people do. 

By running the edge of the shell between the rows, the green 

kernels are "shelled" from the cob. Then it had been dried. 

As will be discussed (p. 145), the techniques of 

shelling corn as described by Mesquakies in the 

1930s are still in practice today. 

The Potawatomi, originally neighbors of the 

Illinois, Sauk, and Mesquakies in the Western 

Great Lakes area, may also have used freshwater 

mussel valves as green corn shellers in the early 

historic period. During the 1930s Floyd Schultz 

took moving picture films recording this practice 

among the Prairie Band Potawatomi of Kansas. 

These scenes can be viewed in the film, Neshnabek, 

recently produced by the University of Kansas 

(Stull and Hirsch, 1980). 

Another group residing in the western Great 

Lakes area at the time of Euro-American contact 

was the Winnebago tribe. In her autobiography. 

Mountain Wolf Woman vividly recalled her experiences in harvesting and preparing corn during 

the late nineteenth century (Lurie, 1966:11-12): 

When various foods were ripe the people dried them. 

They also steamed things underground. They harvested a 

lot of corn and carried it home on their backs. When I was 

a little girl our family was large. I was the youngest and I 

had three older brothers and two older sisters. Another older 

sister and I were the younger ones. When they harvested the 

gardens, they harvested a great amount. They steamed the 

corn. In the evening they dug a pit and heated stones there 

in a big fire. They put the stones in the pit and when the 

stones became red hot they took out all the wood and embers 

and put in the corn husks. Then they put in the fully ripe 

corn and covered it with more husks. Finally they covered it 

with the earth that had been dug out. They covered the pit 

but they left four holes in which they poured the water. We 

used to hear the red hot stones make a rumbling sound. 

Then, very early in the morning they opened the pit with 

great care. They removed the earth very carefully and finally 

when they reached the husks they took them out. Eventually 

they reached the corn and it was thoroughly cooked. It was 

really hot! They took the corn out and put it on the husks. 

Sometimes other people heard about it and worked with my 

family. The helpers came and spread out a big piece of 
NUMBER 30 141 

canvas on which they put the corn. Then they used metal 

teaspoons or clam shells to scrape the corn off the cobs. They 

used to dry it and after it was dried you could see sackfuls of 

corn standing here and there. 

Paul Radin (1973:69) recorded essentially the 

same scene among the Winnebago, although he 

stated that "the outer part of an oyster shell" was 

employed in shelling the corn. 

The loway, according to Skinner (1926:288) 

had five varieties of corn and several different 

ways of preparing this food (Skinner, 1926a: 289): 

[Among the loway] milk ears were taken and boiled until 

cooked through, then spread out on layers of their own 

husks. After an hour or two, when the corn had dried out a 

little, the kernels were scraped off with the edges of mussel 

shells. The corn was then spread out on a buffalo hide and 

dried, and could be kept in this condition all the year. When 

desired for the meal, it was boiled and eaten, generally with 

meat. 

The loway also prepared green corn by roasting 

the ears in "little ovens dug out in the ground" or 

by partially husking the corn and braiding the 

husks together in long strings. The dried corn 

could then be pulverized in a log mortar or else 

ground "on a flat stone by means of a small 

discoidal stone corn crusher which was often pitted." 

William Whitman's Oto informant, referred to 

as B.D., was born in Gage County, Nebraska, in 

1863, lived as a child in a "mud lodge," and 

accompanied his tribesmen on buffalo hunts. 

B.D. described the harvesting activities that occurred after the people returned from the spring 

buffalo hunt and participated in a feast held by 

the Red Bean Medicine Lodge (Whitman, 

1937:5): 

Everybody went to the patch, harvested the green corn, 

and dug it up. They shucked the corn and put it in boiling 

water. When it was soft, they poured it out. They used shells 

to scrape the corn off the cobs. One acre or two in the creek 

bottoms made a lot of corn. It seemed to run to about fifty 

or sixty bushels to the acre. They saved some for next year's 

seed. Each family saved its own seed for replanting. If any 

one broke the rules (ate the corn before the harvest feast) 

something bad would happen to him. We could eat pumpkin, but we could not eat as much as we wanted till that 

ceremony was over. 

The feast referred to by B.D. is one of a category 

variously labelled in the ethnographic literature 

as the green corn dance, first fruits ceremony, 

summer food feast, or feast of thanksgiving for 

the crops. Green corn ceremonialism among the 

tribes of the northeastern and southeastern woodlands has been summarized by John Witthoft 

(1949). Extensions of this complex can be seen 

farther to the west, for example, among the Oto 

as mentioned above in addition to the Fox (Jones, 

1939:91-95), Sauk (Skinner, 1923:52-53), Winnebago (Radin, 1973:336), and Pawnee (Weltfish, 1965:254-256). According to Will and Hyde 

(1964:116), green corn ceremonies were virtually 

absent among the tribes along the upper Missouri 

River. 

On the other hand, perhaps the most detailed 

information concerning agriculture and food 

processing among Indians of the Prairies and 

Plains pertains to the Hidatsa in the account of 

Buffalobird-woman or Maxi'diwiac as presented 

by Gilbert L. Wilson (1917). Buffalobird-woman 

commented that women worked together in shelling corn and that it was rather tedious work. 

Fresh ears of green corn could be shelled off with 

the thumbnail. Boiled green corn, however, was 

removed with a mussel shell. The precise and 

systematic procedures that the Hidatsa employed 

in the harvesting and processing of green corn 

can be followed step-by-step in an excerpt from 

Buffalobird-woman's narrative (Wilson, 1917:39-

41). The statement, admittedly lengthy, is especially fascinating in showing: (1) the spatial domains which Buffalobird-woman moves through 

from garden to village, and from earth lodge to 

external drying rack; (2) the temporal span of the 

process; (3) the secondary use of skin tent-covers 

for activities within the earth lodge village; (4) 

alternate methods of removing the kernels from 

the cobs; and (5) the esthetic as well as arduous 

aspects of the operation. In Buffalobird-woman's 

translated words (Wilson, 1917:39-41): 

Every Hidatsa family put up a store of dried green corn 

for winter. This is the way in which I prepared my family's 

store. 

In the proper season I went out into our garden and broke 
142 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

off the ears that I found, that were of a dark green outside. 

Sometimes I even broke open the husks to see if the ear was 

just right, but this was seldom, as I could tell very well by 

the color and other signs I have described. I went all over 

the garden, plucking the dark green ears, and putting them 

in a pile in some convenient spot on the cultivated ground. 

If I was close enough I tossed each ear upon the pile as I 

plucked it; but as I drew further away, I gathered the ears 

into my basket and bore them to the pile. 

I left off plucking when the pile contained five basketfuls 

if I was working alone. If two of us were working we plucked 

about ten basketfuls. 

Green corn for drying was always plucked in the evening, 

just before sunset; and the newly plucked ears were let lie in 

the pile all night, in the open air. The corn was not brought 

home on the evening of the plucking, because if kept in the 

earth lodge overnight it would not taste so fresh and sweet, 

we thought. 

The next morning before breakfast, I went out to the field 

and fetched the corn to our lodge in the village. As I brought 

the baskets into the lodge, I emptied them in a pile. . .near 

the fire. 

Sitting. . ., I now began husking, breaking off the husks 

from each ear in three strokes, thus: with my hand I drew 

back half the husk; second, I drew back the other half, third, 

I broke the husk from the cob. The husks I put in a pile. . .to 

one side. No husking pegs were used, such as you describe to 

me; I could husk quite rapidly with my bare hands. 

As the ears were stripped, they were laid in a pile upon 

some of the discarded husks, spread for that purpose. The 

freshly husked ears made a pretty sight; some of them were 

big, fine ones, and all had plump, shiny kernels. A twelverow ear we thought a big one; a few very big ears had 

fourteen rows of kernels; smaller ears had not more than 

eight rows. 

Two kettles, meanwhile, had been prepared. One. . .was 

set upon coals in the fireplace; the other. . .was suspended 

over the fire by a chain attached to the drying pole. The 

kettles held water, which was now brought to a boil. 

When enough corn was husked to fill one of these kettles, 

I gathered up the ears and dropped them in the boiling 

water. I watched the corn carefully, and when it was about 

half cooked, I lifted the ears out with a mountain sheep horn 

spoon and laid them on a pile of husks. 

When all the corn was cooked, I loaded the ears in my 

basket and bore them out upon the drying stage, where I 

laid them in rows, side by side, upon the stage floor. There 

I left them to dry overnight. 

The work of bringing in the five basketfuls of corn from 

the field and boiling the ears took all day, until evening. 

In the morning the corn was brought into the lodge again. 

A skin tent cover had been spread on the floor and the half 

boiled ears were laid on it, in a pile. I now sat on the floor, 

as an Indian woman sits, with ankles to the right, and with 

the edge of the tent cover drawn over my knees, I took an 

ear of the half boiled corn in my left hand, holding it with 

the greater end toward me. I had a small, pointed stick; and 

this I ran, point forward, down between two rows of kernels, 

thus loosening the grains. The right hand row of the two 

rows of loosened kernels I now shelled off with my right 

thumb. I then shelled off all the other rows of kernels, one 

row at a time, working toward the left, and rolling the cob 

over toward the right as I did so. 

There was another way of shelling half boiled corn. As 

before, I would run a sharpened stick down two rows of 

kernels, loosening the grains; and I would then shell them 

off with smart, quick strokes of a mussel shell held in my 

right hand. We still shell half boiled corn in this way, using 

large spoons instead of shells. There were very few metal 

spoons in use in my tribe when I was a girl; mussel shells 

were used instead for most purposes. 

If while I was shelling the corn, a girl or woman came 

into the lodge to visit, she would sit down and lend a hand 

while we chatted; thus the shelling was soon done. 

The shelling finished, I took an old tent cover and spread 

it on the floor of the drying stage outside. On this cover I 

spread the shelled corn to dry, carrying it up on the stage in 

my basket. 

At night I covered the drying corn with old tent skins to 

protect it from dampness. 

The corn dried in about four days. 

When the corn was well dried, I winnowed it. This I 

sometimes did on the floor of the drying stage, sometimes on 

the ground. 

Having chosen a day when a slight wind was blowing, I 

filled a wooden bowl from the dried corn that lay heaped on 

the tent cover; and holding the bowl aloft I let the grain 

pour slowly from it, that any chaff might be winnowed out. 

The corn was now ready to be put in sacks for winter. 

Buffalobird-woman also commented that all varieties of corn could be processed in this manner, 

although other methods were known. She observed that the Arikara prepared green corn by 

roasting the ears in a subterranean pit. Although, 

increasingly, some Mandan and Hidatsa were 

imitating the Arikara in this respect, Buffalobirdwoman did not. As she put it, "I do not like to 

eat food made of this dried, roasted corn; it is 

dirty!" (Wilson, 1917:41). 

Available sources do not indicate whether or 

not the Arikara used freshwater mussel valves in 

shelling corn. Their Pawnee relatives, however, 

did follow this practice, as well as that of roasting 

the ears of corn in excavated pits. John Dunbar 

(1880:276-277) reported that the Pawnee remained on the summer hunt until about the first 
NUMBER 30 143 

of September when they returned to harvest their 

corn: 

This (roasting-ear time) was a specially busy season. After 

providing a good supply of fuel, fires were built about the 

patches, and the squaws and children were occupied from 

early morning till nightfall in gathering, roasting, shelling, 

and drying corn. The corn after picking was thrown in 

armfuls into the fire and roasted, still in the husks. The husks 

were then removed, the kernels cut from the cob with the 

sharpened edge of a clam shell and spread upon outstretched 

blankets or skins till dried by the rays of the sun. It was then 

stored away in skin bags for future use. The work of drying 

usually continued as long as any corn was to be found in fit 

condition. Whatever corn was not dried was allowed to ripen 

till October, when it was gathered and cached. 

Gene Weltfish (1937:35, 40; 1965:240-245) corroborated Dunbar's observations on the Pawnee. 

She described further the method of drying the 

shelled corn after it had been removed from the 

cob (Weltfish, 1965:245): 

The kernels were cut off the cob row by row with a 

freshwater clam shell and spread on a tanned hide to dry. 

At night the kernels were first winnowed to remove any 

chaff, gathered up and put in a flour sack, and then taken 

into the tent. They were put in a wooden bowl and spilled 

out from a height so that the wind would blow the chaff 

away. Next morning they were again spread out on the 

tanned hide. After several days, as they were being spilled 

for winnowing in the evening, they would make a tapping 

noise when they hit the hide, showing that the kernels were 

completely dry. 

Weltfish also stated that most of the ears of sweet 

corn, as well as selected ears of green corn, were 

braided together by their husks and hung up in 

the earth lodges for the purposes of storage. 

The tradition of shelling corn with mussel 

valves apparently continued among the Pawnee 

after they were removed to Oklahoma. When 

Effie Blaine, a Pawnee woman, moved to Oklahoma, she is reported to have brought some clam 

shells with her from Nebraska (Martha Royce 

Blaine, pers. comm., 1980). Viola Blaine Mcintosh, Effie Blaine's daughter, remembers 

watching her mother shell corn with clam shells, 

and she recently described the procedure to Martha Royce Blaine (pers. comm., 1981). The process was essentially that recorded earlier among 

the Pawnee in their Nebraska homeland. 

The shelling of green corn with clam shells 

appears to have been practiced also by the Wichita within the twentieth century. When Clara 

Moonlight, a Wichita, was a child, she observed 

her mother preparing green corn. Her observations were recalled recently to Waldo R. Wedel 

who subsequently shared the information with 

me (Waldo R. Wedel, pers. comm., 1980). According to Clara Moonlight, her mother selected 

cobs of corn with their husks still attached. The 

corn was cooked on an iron sheet placed over a 

trench in which a fire had been built. Sharpened 

freshwater clam shells were then used to detach 

the kernels from the partially roasted cobs. 

Alternate Methods of Shelling Corn 

Corn kernels can be detached from the cob in 

several different ways other than with mussel 

shells or with metal spoons, the Euro-American 

trade counterparts of shells. Corn was probably 

shelled by hand by many groups. This was the 

procedure among the Iroquois (Morgan, 1962: 

370) and Hidatsa (Wilson, 1917:38, 40, 48). 

Buffalobird-woman, for example, described holding ears of parboiled green corn in her left hand 

while detaching kernels with her right thumb tip 

or thumbnail. She also shelled seed corn from 

ears dried on the drying stage in this manner. In 

addition Buffalobird-woman commented that 

"sometimes we shelled an ear by rubbing it 

against another ear" (Wilson, 1917:48). 

Threshing corn kernels off dried ears is another 

method noted in the literature. The Illinois, observed in 1687, dried their husked corn on reed 

mats for about a week, and then threshed it "with 

big sticks six or seven feet long, in a place which 

they surround with matting to prevent the flying 

kernels from getting lost" (Pease and Werner, 

1934:344). The Hidatsa also threshed corn that 

had been dried on the drying stage (Wilson, 

1917:49-53). The threshing was carried out in 

rectangular skin-covered booths constructed beneath the drying stages. These structures were 

described in detail by Buffalobird-woman and 

were illustrated by her son, Edward Goodbird. 
144 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Three or four women would normally work in the 

booth at one time, threshing the corn with flails 

of ash or cottonwood. 

In some sources, cited previously, the use of a 

knife in shelling corn appears to be almost a 

taboo. On the other hand this procedure is reported for the Iroquois (Harrington, 1908:589) 

and for the Prairie Potawatomi or Mascouten 

(Skinner, 1926b: 284). 

Some American Indian groups employed 

pointed sticks in shelling corn. The Pawnee used 

such tools to pry off kernels from ears of mature 

corn (Weltfish, 1965:244, 246, 252). This practice 

is also indicated for the Hidatsa in Buffalobirdwoman's statement that pointed sticks were sometimes used in conjunction with the thumb or a 

mussel shell in shelling corn (Wilson, 1917:40-

41). This method is also reflected in the 26th 

stanza of an Omaha maize ritual song which, 

freely translated, reads: "O hasten!/Rip from its 

cob/My fruit as I stand/And eat me!" (Fletcher 

and LaFlesche, 1911:262-268). The second line 

of this Stanza is literally translated as "to push off 

with a stick, to shell." Peter LeClaire, generally 

recognized as the leading Ponca historian, reported the former use of wooden stick corn shellers 

among his tribe, and he carved such an implement for James Howard (1965:45, pi. 22e). 

Another technique employed by some Native 

Americans apparently involved pounding the kernels off the cob with a pestle or grinding stone. 

Among the Pawnee, for example, Weltfish 

(1965:240), describing a harvest scene in which 

Grandma went to stay in a temporary willow 

sapling shelter in her cornfield, narrated as follows: 

She had a kettle along and a small mortar and pestle for 

preparing her meals. She would pound some of the fresh 

corn kernels from the roasted cobs and wrap them in corn 

husks, putting them in the boiling water to make dumplings. 

Arthur C. Parker (1910:54), an anthropologist of 

Seneca background, discussed a similar method 

in his extensive tome on Iroquois maize preparation techniques: 

Another method of bruising green corn on the cob was to 

place a flat grinding stone in a large wooden or bark bowl, 

hold the ear on the stone with one hand and mash the unripe 

kernels with a milling stone held in the other hand. The 

bruised corn was then brushed from the mortar stone and 

the kernels that yet adhered to the cob, scraped off. When 

enough material had been thus prepared the lower stone was 

removed from the bowl and the mashed corn removed for 

cooking. 

Beyond these cases, of course, American Indians 

almost everywhere used grinding stones, mullers, 

mortars, and pestles in pulverizing corn kernels 

once they were detached—by whatever method— 

from the cob. 

The use of deer jaws for shelling corn is exemplified in tribes ranging from the northeastern 

United States to the Plains. These artifacts were 

first documented among the Iroquois by Parker 

in 1903 and subsequently reported by him in 

bulletins of the New York State Museum (Parker, 

1907:544; 1910:53). Deer jaw corn scrapers were 

also documented among the Iroquois by Harrington (1908:580) and Waugh (1916:96, pi. 6c). 

Parker (1910:53) described the type specimen, 

which he collected among the Seneca, as follows: 

It is simply one of the rami of a deer's lower jaw and is 

complete without trimming or finishing in any way. The jaw 

was held by the anterior toothless portion and with the sharp 

back teeth the green corn was scraped from the cob. The 

name of the implement, Yigassho"'gaya"to', is derived from 

ogo"'sa, green corn, and yigowe"'to', it scrapes. 

The Seneca housewife when she uses the jaw scraper, with 

characteristic humor, says, "I am letting the deer chew the 

corn first for me." 

Contrary to the above statement that the deer 

jaws were not finished in any way prior to being 

used as corn shellers, one should note that Parker's original specimen and also those illustrated 

by Waugh and Harrington all have had their 

ascending rami removed. This trimming does 

indeed, as pointed out by Harrington (1908:580), 

appear to be a systematic preparation of the jaws 

for use as corn shellers. Farther west, the use of 

deer rami as corn shellers is documented for the 

Sauk (Skinner, 1925:137) and the Prairie Potawatomi or Mascouten (Skinner, 1926a:284). On 

the basis of worked and utilized deer rami found 

at protohistoric and historic archeological sites in 

Nebraska and Kansas, Wedel (1936:86) has sug-
NUMBER 30 145 

gested the use of these implements as corn shellers 

among the Pawnee. 

Among the Seneca the corn prepared by removing the kernels from the cob with a deer jaw 

sheller is called by a name meaning "already 

chewed" (Parker, 1907:544). An even more literal 

method of shelling corn was reported by Father 

Gabriel Sagard (1939:105) who lived with the 

Hurons in 1623 and 1624: 

They make another kind of bread: they gather a number 

of ears of corn before it is thoroughly dry and ripe, and then 

the women, girls, and children bite off the grains, spitting 

them out of their mouths afterwards into large pots which 

they keep beside them, and then they finish by pounding it 

in a large mortar; and since this paste is very soft they must 

necessarily wrap it in leaves in order to bake it under the 

ashes in the usual way. This chewed bread is the kind they 

themselves prize most, but for my part I only ate it of 

necessity and reluctantly. . . . 

Sagard's humor on this general subject was obviously less than that of Parker's Seneca housewife 

informant! 

Contemporary Use of Clam Shell Corn 

Shellers by the Mesquakie 

In late August of 1979, Nancy Osborn and I 

visited Frank and Adeline Wanatee at their home 

on the Mesquakie Settlement. They shared with 

us information pertaining to the harvesting and 

preparation of green corn. That season the corn 

was a little late in maturing and was a week or 

two away from being harvested. Frank showed 

me his garden located in the corner of his yard to 

the southeast of his house. The corn was planted 

in rows and to either side were growing squash 

and other vegetables. Frank peeled back a portion 

of the husk from an ear of large-kerneled white 

corn, one of five varieties (red, blue, two kinds of 

white, and a mixed blue and white), which he 

said are grown by the Mesquakies. He pinched a 

kernel and observed that, since milk was showing, 

the corn was nearly ready to be harvested. 

Frank also showed me the open-air arbor, a 

ramada-type structure, located north and east of 

his house. Here the harvested green corn would 

be parboiled. After the corn is picked, the husks 

are removed from the ears. Then the husks are 

spread out on the ground while the ears of corn 

are placed in a large kettle to boil. Within the 

kettle the ears are kept turning with a large "mesh 

spoon." After the corn is parboiled, the ears are 

removed from the kettle and laid out on the bed 

of husks. When all the picked corn is parboiled 

and set out in this fashion, the entire mass is 

covered with husks and allowed to drain and 

partially dry out over night. 

The next morning the shelling process begins. 

Adeline commented that they try to get going as 

early as possible in the morning to take advantage 

of a nice sunny day for drying the corn. Shelling 

corn is an extended family affair with women and 

men, boys and girls, participating. In former 

times, Frank thought that shelling corn was more 

of a community project and was the task of 

women. 

The parboiled corn is shelled by using the 

valves of freshwater mussels collected along the 

banks of the Iowa River, which flows through the 

Mesquakie Settlement. The Wanatees, on occasion, pick up shells that feel comfortable in the 

hand and save them for future use as corn shellers. 

They each have favorite clam shells that they 

prefer to use. Sometimes, as Adeline observed, 

shells are brought to her by children who find 

them while playing along the river. The Wanatees 

said they had heard that the clam shells along the 

Mississippi River are thicker and that they might 

try to pick up some there on one of their trips to 

Rock Island. The six clam shells they showed us, 

however, had been collected along the Iowa River 

and had been used as corn shellers without any 

special prepration (Figure 17). Depending on its 

thickness and brittleness, an individual shell 

could last several years as a corn sheller, since it 

would not be used for other functions. 

The identification and characteristics of the 

Wanatees' clam shell corn shellers are summarized in Table 1. Species identification of the 

shells was provided by R. Stanley Riggle, chief of 

the Iowa Archeological Survey, State Historic 

Preservation Program, Iowa City, Iowa. Of the 

six specimens, four different genera are repre-
146 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

FIGURE 17.—Freshwater mussel shells used by Frank and Adeline Wanatee in shelling green 

corn at the Mesquakie Settlement (scales = 5 cm). 

sented: Fusconaia flava (trans Rafinesque, 1820), 

Actinonaias cannata (Barnes, 1823), Lampsilis ventricosa (Barnes, 1823), and Amblema plicata (Say, 

1817). Two specimens represent valves from the 

same individual L. ventricosa. Four of the specimens are right valves; two are left. Modification 

of the ventral margins of the shells by use is 

observed on all specimens, but the characteristics 

vary. Chipping and grinding along the margins 

are the most noticeable characteristics. At this 

point I cannot satisfactorily document the reasons 

for the differences in edge wear. It is interesting 

to note, however, that the two valves from the 

same L. ventricosa, specimens "E" and "F" , exhibit 

the same apparent characteristics which are different than those observed on specimen "C, " 

which is of the same species. On this basis I 

suspect some of the differences might be explained by (1) the size and age of the mussel prior 

to its death; (2) the duration of exposure to 

weathering and acid soil conditions prior to being 

collected for potential use as a tool; and (3) the 

length of time the particular valve had been used 

in shelling corn. 

In shelling the parboiled green corn, the Wanatees said that the clam shell is held in the right 

hand and the ear of corn in the left hand. The 

shell is grasped so that all four fingers are inside 

the shell and are curled up under its hinge. The 

palm and thumb are pressed against the outside 

surface of the shell along its upper border (dorsal 

margin or umbo). Thus the shell is held with its 

interior surface away from the person shelling 

corn. To detach kernels from the cob, the lower 

edge (ventral margin) of the shell is pressed down 

in between the rows of kernels. Individual rows 

are removed, one at a time, by a series of short 

twisting motions with the clam shell. Frank observed that "the back edge of the shell does most 

of the work." 
NUMBER 30 147 

TABLE 1.—Identification and characteristics of freshwater mussel-valve corn shellers used by 

Frank and Adeline Wanatee 

Shell 

and side 

Species Length Height Thickness 

(mm) (mm) (mm) 

Observed use modification 

A, right 

B, left 

C, right 

D, right 

E, left 

F, right 

Fusconaia flava 

(trans Rafinesque, 1820) 

Actinonaias carinata 

(Barnes, 1823) 

Lampsilis ventricosa 

(Barnes, 1823) 

Amblema plicata 

(Say, 1817) 

Lampsilis ventricosa 

(Barnes, 1823) 

Lampsilis ventricosa 

(Barnes, 1823) 

66 58 20 Anterior ventral margin ground; posterior ventral margin irregularly but 

noticeably chipped and smoothed 

100 62 22 Anterior ventral margin ground, but 

rougher and not as rounded as specimen "A"; posterior end developing 

a pointed appearance 

117 82 27 Valve thicker and more massive; anterior ventral margin very noticeably 

ground and rounded; posterior ventral margin slightly chipped and 

less noticeably ground 

97 70 21 Anterior ventral margin noticeably 

ground and rounded; grinding continues along edge to point past midline; hinge and teeth slightly 

blunted and rounded as if by use 

122 79 26 Ventral margin irregularly chipped 

and broken; very little grinding observed; margin has a crenulated or 

saw-tooth appearance 

121 78 26 Same individual as specimen "E"; virtually the same characteristics observed as for specimen "E" 

After all the corn is shelled, the kernels are 

spread out on muslin sheets to dry in the sun. 

Several times during the day the kernels are 

turned and rolled over with the hand so that they 

dry evenly. At night the edges of the sheets are 

gathered up, and the corn is brought into the 

house. The next day this process is repeated. If it 

happens to be raining outside during the day, the 

sheets are spread out inside the house and the 

corn continues drying there. Under normal conditions it takes four days for the corn to dry. If 

the corn is not sufficiently dried at the end of four 

days, the process is continued until no more moisture remains in the kernels. 

After the Wanatees' corn dries, they place the 

kernels in paper bags and then put the bags into 

fifty-pound lard cans, which are stored in a sleeping room that is consistently cool. Frank periodically opens up the lard cans to make sure that no 

moisture has collected within the tins. In particular he checks the dried corn when weather conditions change suddenly. In these situations condensation might occur within the cans and the 

moisture could ruin the corn. Early and late 

ripening batches of corn are stored in separate 

containers because the time required to cook 

them varies. We were shown a five gallon white 

plastic pail that contained shelled white corn. In 

this instance, Adeline said the corn had been 

allowed to dry on the cob and then the kernels 

had been pushed off with her thumb. That corn 

would require about two hours cooking to make 

it palatable. On the other hand, the green corn 

that had been parboiled, shelled, and dried would 

require much less time to cook. Frank commented 

that in former times the shelled and dried corn 

was stored in leather bags or other leather containers. In response to a question, he also stated 

that in the old days the Mesquakie kept their 

corn in underground storage pits. 
148 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

The details of processing green corn as told to 

me by Frank and Adeline Wanatee are similar in 

many ways to the observations made by Juanita 

Pudwill, who actually shelled green corn with 

another family at the Mesquakie Settlement. She 

(pers. comm., 1979) related as follows: 

During August on the Mesquakie Settlement, green corn 

is gathered, husked, and parboiled in large iron kettles over 

the open fire in an outside open framed hut. The kernels are 

removed from the cob and laid out on large sheets of plastic 

to dry in the sun. It is then stored for winter use. 

At the home where I was included during the harvest in 

the fall of 1976, it was the uncle's job to keep the fire and 

pots going. The corn was put in to boil at a certain time in 

the afternoon to make sure that things would be ready when 

the children were home from school. The harvest ceremony 

is for all members of the family to partake in. We all 

gathered in the front room, most of us sitting on the floor 

with a large old tablecloth draped over our legs. Everyone 

chose a mussel shell which would fit well into the palm of 

his or her hand. I, being right-handed, chose the shell to fit 

in that hand. The conch edge lies between the thumb and 

forefinger, with the sharp edge down. One presses the sharp 

edge down in between the rows of kernels and prys them 

out. The kernel must not be cut in removing it from the ear. 

The next day, the corn was laid out to dry and after drying, 

it would be put in containers ready for winter use. 

In this case it should be noted that the clam shell 

was held so that its interior surface faced towards 

the person shelling the corn. Thus the thumb was 

placed into the cavity or parallel to the hinge 

below the dorsal margin of the valve. The four 

fingers pressed in opposition on the exterior of the 

shell. The kernels of corn were detached from the 

cob with a motion that brought them towards the 

person engaged in shelling. 

Today some people at the Mesquakie Settlement use metal spoons for shelling corn. As noted 

previously (p. 142), Buffalobird-woman stated 

that metal spoons generally replaced clam shells 

as corn shellers among the Hidatsa in the late 

nineteenth and early twentieth century. The use 

of metal spoons has also been mentioned above 

for the Mesquakie earlier in this century and for 

the nineteenth-century Fox. Mary Goose (pers. 

comm., 1979), a Mesquakie and presently an 

undergraduate student majoring in anthropology 

at Iowa State University, indicated to me that 

her family shells green corn with metal spoons. 

Frank and Adeline Wanatee, however, prefer using clam shells because, for them, the shells are 

easier to grasp and are less apt to cut into the 

kernels than are metal spoons. The Wanatees 

consider metal knives definitely undesirable for 

this purpose as opposed to this usage previously 

cited for the Iroquois and the Prairie Potawatomi. 

Metal knives, they contend, cut off the bases of 

the kernels. This results not only in wasting part 

of the corn but also in allowing the milk to flow 

out of the kernel. The Wanatees, and evidently 

most people who process green corn in this manner, want to preserve as much of the total nutrients as possible when the kernels are shelled off 

the cobs and dried for future consumption. 

Archeological Evidence of Clam Shell 

Corn Shellers 

The archeological specimens of worked mussel 

shells already referred to (p. 136) were collected at 

prehistoric Oneota sites along the central Des 

Moines River south of the city of Des Moines. 

These sites have been attributed to the Moingona 

Phase (Gradwohl, 1967; 1974:95-96), which is 

thought to extend from approximately A.D. 1000 

to 1500, although some radiocarbon assays date 

before and others after that range. The Moingona 

Phase is known from at least thirteen components 

demonstrated by surface collections, two components from tested sites, and four components 

that were more extensively excavated: 13PK1 

(Howard Goodhue site), 13WA2 (Clarkson site), 

13WA105 (Cribbs' Crib site), and 13MA30 

(Mohler Farm site). Since these sites are prehistoric, any ethnographic assignment is tenuous. 

Without opening Pandora's parfleche, my own 

hunch is that the people represented by the Moingona Phase were Chiwere Siouan speakers, most 

probably groups known historically as the loway 

or the Oto. 

The archeological residue recovered from the 

excavated sites of the Moingona Phase represent 

extensive horticultural activities. The ecofactual 

and archeological data, along with the appropriate ethnographic parallels or analogies, indicate 

that, among other things, the people inhabiting 

these sites were engaged in the growing, harvesting, storing, and processing of corn. These infer-
NUMBER 30 149 

ences, demonstrated below, serve as a basis for 

the further consideration of the clam shell artifacts and their possible function. 

Corn is evidenced by charred kernels and cob 

fragments found at all four of the excavated 

archeological sites. Charred corn kernels and cobs 

being removed in their surrounding soil matrix 

from 13WA105 are shown in Figure 16. In addition, the impression of a corn cob was observed 

on a clay fragment collected from 13PK1. Cob 

fragments exhibit 8-row and 10-row maize varieties. The corn was recovered almost exclusively 

from subterranean features, which were sometimes basin-shaped but more often bell-shaped in 

vertical cross-section (Figure 18). At 13PK1, 61 

of these were excavated; at 13WA2, there were 

15; and at 13MA30, there were 12. Most of the 

eoirth 

-grass 

areolar 5kin-»|l^§i~^^Fa^^ 

eruse 

4/circula.r skin 

' "^ i~»5 ~^~"^'>y^'>;^,. puncheons 

«-graL«3 

FIGURE 18.—Archeological evidence for bell-shaped storage 

or cache pits, feature 64 at 13PK1 in vertical cross-section, 

Howard Goodhue site. 

FIGURE 19.—Sketch of the Hidatsa cache pit, drawn by 

Edward Goodbird (Wilson, 1917:87). 

151 such features discovered during emergency 

salvage and monitoring operations at 13WA105 

were also of this type. While these features were 

typically filled with trash, they are considered to 

have functioned primarily as cache or storage 

pits, such as those which Buffalobird-women dug, 

used, and extensively described (Wilson, 1917:87-

97). Goodbird's illustration (Wilson, 1917:87) of 

an Hidatsa cache pit is shown in Figure 19. 

Artifacts interpreted as gardening tools further 

demonstrate that the inhabitants of these Oneota 

sites grew and harvested their own corn rather 

than obtaining it by trade, warfare, or some other 

means. Modified bison scapula tools are found in 

and around the cache pits at these Oneota sites 

(Figure 20a). These artifacts are interpreted as 

hoes following the ethnographic parallel provided 

by the Hidatsa data. Buffalobird-woman described scapula hoes and provided a model of 

such a tool and its hafting. Furthermore, she was 

photographed demonstrating how the implement 

was used (Wilson, 1917:12-15, 105). These Hidatsa analogies for the Oneota artifacts are shown 

in Figure 20b,c. Buffalobird-woman (Wilson, 

1917:105-106) also described rakes made from 
150 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

black-tailed deer antlers, which were preferred 

over wooden rakes: 

Of the two, we thought the horn rake the better because 

it did not grow worms, as we said. Worms often appear in a 

garden and do much damage. It is a tradition with us that 

worms are afraid of horn; and we believed if we used blacktailed deer horn rakes, not many worms would be found in 

our fields that season. 

Wilson's (1917:14 and facing page) monograph 

included a drawing of Buffalobird-woman's antler rake and a photograph of her using the tool 

(Figure 21). Seven artifacts of similar form, and 

presumably similar function, were found in the 

fill of storage pits at 13PK1. Figure 22, shows an 

antler tool in situ in a partially excavated cache 

pit. A similar implement is illustrated in Figure 

2U. 

Within the above context we can now look at 

certain artifacts made from freshwater clam 

shells. Of particular interest are 53 artifacts from 

13PK1. Initially, following general precedents, I 

FIGURE 20.—Archaeological evidence and ethnographic parallels for scapula hoes: a, Scapula artifact, ISU4370, excavated from a storage pit, feature 23, at 13MA30, the Mohler 

Farm Site; b, model of Hidatsa scapula hoe made by Edward 

Goodbird and Buffalobird-woman (Wilson 1917:12); c, Buffalobird-woman hoeing squashes with a scapula hoe (Wilson, 

1917, opposite p. 14). 

FIGURE 21.—Archaeological evidence and ethnographic parallels for antler rakes: a, Buffalobird-woman in field with 

antler rake (Wilson, 1917: opposite p. 14); b, antler rake 

made by Buffalobird-woman (Wilson 1917:14); c, antler 

artifact, ISU 11358, excavated from a storage pit, feature 1 

at 13PK1, Howard Goodhue site. 
NUMBER 30 151 

FIGURE 22.—Vertical view into partially excavated storage 

pit, feature 51, at 13PK1, Howard Goodhue site, showing a 

cut antler artifact in situ. 

categorized most of these artifacts as shell "spoons 

or scoops." Now, given the archeological context 

of these objects and the systematic ethnographic 

parallels, I suggest that most if not all of these 

artifacts served as corn shellers in the processing 

of green corn. These objects all exhibit grinding 

and/or localized "flaking" along their ventral 

margins (Figure 23). On most of the artifacts the 

grinding is most pronounced at the posterior end 

of the valve. Grinding normally occurs also along 

the posterior dorsal margin, giving the tool a 

pointed appearance. Oftentimes the grinding is 

so extensive that the edge of the tool touches or 

intersects the pallial line on the inside of the 

valve. Occasionally the teeth are slightly blunted 

or rounded as if from use, and in a few instances 

apparent use is exhibited by an unnatural 

smoothing along the hinge line and umbo. The 

edges of some valves appear to have been cut 

prior to being ground and/or utilized. 

Of these 53 clam shell artifacts found at 13PK1, 

24 (45.3%) were discovered in the fill of 14 storage 

pits, 22 (41.5%) were recovered within the undisturbed occupational zone, and 7 (13.2%) were 

collected in the plowzone or on the surface of the 

site. Of the shells in this sample 27 (50.9%) are 

right valves; 26 (49.1%) are left valves. Species 

identification undertaken by R. Stanley Riggle 

shows that four species representing three genera 

occur in this artifact category. Of all the specimens 41 (77.3%) are identified as Ligumia recta 

latissima (Lamarck, 1819), 6 (11.3%) are Actinonaias carinata (Barnes, 1823), 3 (5.7%) are Lampsilis 

radiata siliquoidea (Barnes, 1823) and 3 (5.7%) are 

FIGURE 23.—Selected worked freshwater mussel shells from 13PK1, Howard Goodhue site. 

Ligumia recta latissima: a, ISU 8185; b, ISU 23299; d, ISU 8010A; e, ISU 23423;/, ISU 23455. 

Lampsilis radiata siliquoidea: c, ISU 23207. 
152 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Lampsilis ventricosa (Barnes, 1823). Given the geographic distribution and ecology of freshwater 

mussels as summarized by P.W. Parmalee (1967), 

all of these species appear in this region and there 

is no reason, at present, to assume the shells could 

not have been collected along the Des Moines 

River. Unfortunately the many unworked shell 

specimens from 13PK1 and the shell from other 

Moingona Phase sites have not yet been identified. Three other freshwater mussels species, however, have been identified in the artifacts from 

13PK1: Fusconaia flava (Rafinesque, 1820), Lasmigona complanata (Barnes, 1823), and Amblema 

plicata (Say, 1819). Beyond the suggested green 

corn shellers, shell utilization at Moingona Phase 

sites includes artifacts that may indeed be spoons 

or scoops, larger objects that could have served as 

cups or small dishes, fish effigies or lures, and 

ornaments, such as beads and pendants. There 

are also cut segments of shell, which often exhibit 

serrated edges and/or etched designs. Most probably, these, too, are types of ornaments. Many 

other shells were obviously ground up as tempering for the characteristic Oneota pottery. Beyond 

all this, of course, we assume from the quantities 

of unworked valves distributed in the trash-filled 

pits and generally around the site, that the former 

inhabitants of Moingona Phase settlements may 

have eaten the animals inside the shells. 

It is interesting to note that there appears to be 

no preferential selection of right or left valves in 

the archeological artifacts interpreted as corn 

shellers. As cited above. Skinner (1925:137) stated 

that the Sauk selected the left valves of mussel 

shells since they fit most comfortably in the right 

hand. Today, however, Frank and Adeline Wanatee use both left and right valves. It is possible 

that the selection of shells by individuals might 

be influenced by the size of the person's hand and 

also whether the valve is held with the concave 

interior surface facing towards or away from the 

person while the corn is being shelled. Finally, in 

regard to the archeological evidence for corn 

shelling at Moingona Phase sites, we note the 

presence of deer rami with cut medial ends and 

polished surfaces. It is quite probable that these 

tools served as corn shellers as documented for 

the historic Iroquois, Sauk, Prairie Potawatomi, 

and, apparently, the Pawnee. As the ethnographic literature reveals, more than one method 

was usually employed for shelling corn depending 

on the maturity of the crop and the nature of the 

food product being prepared. At the Moingona 

Phase sites, I suspect that freshwater mussel shells 

were used for preparing green corn to be dried 

and stored for winter use. Deer jaw shellers, which 

crush the kernels, would probably have been used 

for preparing foods to be consumed more immediately. I also suspect that these prehistoric people 

shelled dried, mature, corn by hand; but the 

fickle finger of archeological data cannot be 

pointed demonstrably in that direction. 

Given the above archeological evidence, we can 

look briefly to some larger distributions of similarly worked mussel valves and ponder their function as green corn shellers. Perhaps the most 

striking parallels are two worked Ligumia recta 

latissima (Rafinesque) valves from the Nebraska 

Culture component at the Doniphan site in eastern Kansas. These artifacts, as described by 

Waldo Wedel (1959:118, pi. 5a), "show heavy 

wear along the margin opposite the hinge, as 

from scraping or rubbing; the posterior part of 

this edge has been reduced to nearly a straight 

line." Four similar shell artifacts were reported 

from the Elliott site in Cowley County, Kansas. 

These shells, suggested Wedel (1959:376-377; see 

also pi. 46, fig 2; no. 456), "may have been used 

as scrapers, e.g., in smoothing pots or other surfaces, or as spoons." The specimen illustrated 

from the Elliott site is made from the right valve 

of a Lampsilis anodontoides (Lea). 

Moving on to Nebraska we can note similar 

shells attributed to the functions of digging or 

scraping tools in Pawnee (Wedel, 1936:86) and 

St. Helena (Cooper, 1936:77, 128-129) contexts. 

In South Dakota freshwater mussel valves of this 

form are reported from the Wolf Creek component at the Crow Creek site (Kivett and Jensen, 

1976:55, pi. 43, nos. 4 and 9) and may also be 

represented at the Talking Crow site (Smith, 

1977:93). At the Huff site in North Dakota, cut 

and ground mussel valves were referred to as 

"tools best described as scrapers" (Wood, 1967:96, 
NUMBER 30 153 

fig. 12r). Objects of possible resemblance are indicated at the Guthrey site in Missouri (Henning, 

1970:83-84) and at the Blood Run and Dixon 

sites in northwestern Iowa (Harvey, 1979:91, 

156). Finally, two cut and worn specimens that 

Mildred Wedel (1959:62) mentions from the 

Burke and O'Regan sites in northeastern Iowa 

may possibly be comparable forms. The point of 

the above fleeting summary is not to provide a 

detailed distributional inventory but rather to 

invite a re-thinking of this worked freshwater 

mussel shell form and its probable use in the 

shelling of green corn. 

Conclusions 

The data presented in this paper indicate that 

mussel shells are used today by some Native 

Americans in shelling green corn, that they have 

been used for such purposes by many Prairie and 

Plains Indian groups throughout a 300-year period of Euro-American observations, and that, 

within the strictures of archeological evidence 

and legitimate sociocultural reconstructions, they 

were used by prehistoric North Americans for at 

least six centuries before the European settlement 

of New England. If that interpretation is correct, 

this case provides a controlled ethnographic parallel or analogy for use in the reconstruction of 

past behavior patterns. The function of an individual prehistoric shell artifact can perhaps be 

inferred. The data presented here suggest that 

shells, or even metal spoons, are preferred over 

knives, because the former implements detach the 

corn without cutting through the bases of the 

kernels, thus preserving all the constituents of 

each grain. If Jones is correct that corn is considered sacred and each grain mortal, then the shelling of corn in this manner may have spiritual 

connotations as well. 

The contemporary and the archeological data 

demonstrate that several different species of shell 

could be utilized. In the archeological sample, a 

distinct preference for Ligumia recta latissima is 

apparent, while three of the six contemporary 

Mesquakie specimens are Lampsilis ventricosa. 

Skinner's (1925:137) reference to the Sauk stated 

that left valves were preferred. Neither the archeological specimens nor the contemporary samples 

bear out this observation. Among the contemporary Mesquakie, some families apparently prepare the clam shells by sharpening the valve 

margins with whetstones, while other families use 

the mussel shells without prior modification. It 

also appears that two different motor functions 

are employed. Frank and Adeline Wanatee hold 

the valves with the concave interior surface away 

from their bodies and they detach the kernels 

away from themselves. Other Mesquakie seemingly hold the valves with the concave interior 

surface toward their bodies and pull the kernels 

off toward themselves. Thus in archeological inventories one might expect to find some different 

expressions of characteristics reflecting the different manufacturing techniques and motor habits 

involved in using the clam shells as corn shellers. 

Given favorable deposition and preservation conditions, however, some evidence of use should be 

observable especially along the ventral posterior 

margins of the shells. These data, along with the 

more familiar and generally accepted evidence 

for horticulture—corn cobs and kernels, storage 

pits, scapula hoes, antler rakes, etc.—imply the 

harvesting and processing of green corn. 

Beyond that rather basic inference, with the 

addition of other contextual data, there are further possibilities for inferring prehistoric economic activities, harvesting schedules and procedures, and food preparation and storage techniques. Potentially even ritual practices, such as 

those described as "green corn ceremonies," 

might be inferred. 

Ultimately, in my opinion, the significance of 

these data is of more than pedantic archeological 

interest. A specific technological and perhaps ideological continuity of nearly one thousand years 

should be of consequencee to those concerned 

with the study of the processes of contemporary 

culture change and the definitions of present 

group and individual identities. The retention of 

such elemental practices should not be taken as 

simple, for their real and symbolic ramifactions 

may be many. They are, I would argue, important reminders that, in the face of what some 
154 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

scientists choose to call "assimilation," there is 

usually a subtle but profound retention of traditional world views and associated behavior patterns among Native Americans today. 

Returning to the point from which we began 

this discussion, we can see some continuities that 

transcend change. Juanita Pudwill, having read 

Gilbert Wilson's study of the Hidatsa, commented that shelling corn with her Mesquakie 

friend and her friend's mother recalled scenes 

which Buffalobird-woman recounted from the 

nineteenth century. In Juanita's words (pers. 

comm., 1979): 

A game is played to see how many kernels can be removed 

without breaking them apart. On this particular evening, 

the grandmother won every time. Everyone laughed and 

was happy for her. The T.V. was on in the background and 

the younger ones were watching, but my friend and I sat 

side-by-side and filled our tablecloths with kernels of the 

beautiful red, purple, and white corn. 

Discounting a few technological changes, such as 

the T.V set, I suspect that the specific activity 

and social ambience of the front room in that 

house on the Mesquakie Settlement in 1976 

would have been familiar and welcome to many 

others in addition to Buffalobird-woman and the 

Hidatsa—for example, to the Pawnee grandmother and Effie Blaine described by Gene Weltfish and Martha Royce Blaine, and Clara Moonlight's mother recalled to Waldo Wedel, and B.D. 

who told William Whitman about the Oto, and 

the loway and Sauk recorded by Alanson Skinner, and Mountain Wolf Woman who spoke 

through Nancy Lurie, and the Prairie Potawatomi whose images are preserved in the film 

Neshnabek, and the Fox kinspeople of William 

Jones, and the Illinois stepping out of the De 

Liette Memoir and the seventeenth century. 

There are many more who join in a line that 

extends back some seven hundred years or more. 

Though "on the other side" and nameless in 

prehistory, they have left their kindred signs in 

the earth. 

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Bias in the Zooarcheological Record: 

Suggestions for Interpretation of Bone Counts in 

Faunal Samples from the Plains 

Brian Hesse 

ABSTRACT 

A model of information content in archeological 

animal bone samples is presented as an introduction to the problem of identifying bias in the 

faunal record. A solution to the problem will 

require both attention to the assumptions implied 

by the use of different methods of analysis and 

development of rigorous quantitative models linking human behavior and natural phenomena to 

the archeological record. 

Introduction 

Waldo R. Wedel's critique of Two House Sites in 

the Central Plains: An Experiment in Archaeology 

(Wood, 1969) contains the following passage 

(Wedel, 1970:16): 

If ten bison scapulae were recognized in the refuse bone, we 

can infer that no less than five animals died to furnish the 

hoe-makings. Are we then to assume that only the scapulae 

were utilized and the meat was ignored? It would seem 

likelier that the animals were butchered at a watering place 

in the nearby creek valley and only the wanted meat, plus 

such bones and other parts as were desired for tool-making 

and other specific aims, were carried back to the house on 

Mowry Bluff. 

This comment clearly reflects Dr. Wedel's deep 

concern for the care with which inferences about 

Plains human ecology are made. It also attests 

Brian Hesse, Department of Anthropology, University of Alabama in 

Birmingham, Birmingham, Alabama 35294. 

to his long-standing interest in the study of faunal remains, and, therefore, is an excellent starting point for a discussion of zooarcheological 

method. The passage distinguishes between two 

conflicting interpretations drawn from the same 

animal bone sample. In one view, the distorted 

nature of a bison bone sample is emphasized 

(almost all scapulae), an observation that leads 

to the conclusion that the pursuit of bison was a 

less important subsistence activity at Mowry Bluff 

than in other Plains sites. On the other hand, the 

relative frequency of bison bones in the collection 

and the nature of Plains bison processing activities is emphasized, leading to the contrasting 

conclusion that bison and other Plains forms were 

the mainstay of Mowry Bluff subsistence. Resolution of these contradictory interpretations requires an evaluation of quantitative methods in 

zooarcheology. Before we can answer the question 

about Mowry Bluff hunting, we need to understand how bone counts reflect species frequency. 

Since bias in these counts can arise from a wide 

range of sources, it is useful to preface a discussion 

of bone counting problems with an outline of the 

nature of the zooarcheological record. 

The Zooarcheological Record 

Several authors stress the important idea that 

archeological collections are samples drawn from 

populations of contemporary phenomena (Binford and Bertram, 1977:77; Cowgill, 1970:163; 

157 
158 

Sullivan, 1978:185). Excavated samples are contemporary in the sense that they contain information not just about their original makers, 

users, and discarders, but also about things that 

happened right up to the moment of study. 

Cowgill (1970:162-163) suggests that in order to 

understand archeological collections, it is necessary to think in terms of four different kinds of 

"populations" of information that bridge the gap 

in time between past behavior and the contemporary archeological record. 

First is the "population" of behavior that actually occurred in an ancient society. Because not 

all behavior affects material objects, it is never 

possible to reconstruct all past behavior from 

archeological material. Instead, human activity is 

linked to the archeological record by what 

Cowgill calls the "physical consequences population." This second population is made up of all 

the modification of form and location undergone 

by material objects as a result of human behavior. 

Between the time the physical consequences population is created (tools are made, houses are 

built, trash discarded) and the time of excavation, 

numerous cultural and natural factors intervene 

to determine what, where, or if members of this 

population are interred, and if they survive 

(Schiffer, 1976). Cowgill (1970:163) terms this 

third, surviving population the "physical finds 

population." It is the finds population that is 

sampled by excavation to produce archeological 

collections. Successful archeological interpretation comes from an understanding of the chain of 

finds, consequences, and behavior. This requires 

that the effects of the various factors involved in 

the transformation between each population be 

understood. 

The general model for extracting archeological 

information described in the preceding paragraph is illustrated in Figure 24. The terms on 

the left side of the figure are taken from Cowgill's 

(1970) description of the successive states of information content. The terms on the right side of 

the figure are taken from Clark and Kietzke's 

(1967) description of the categories of bias affecting the fossil record. The basic zooarcheological 

SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Past 

Ancient 

Behavior c 

Physical 

Consequences 

>^ 

c 

Finds 

N 

Biotic/Thanatic 

Cultural 

Perthotaxic 

Technologic 

Taphonomic 

y. Anataxic 

c 

Sample 

Report 

N 

Sullegic 

C N 

Trephic 

Present 

FIGURE 24.—A simplified model of the expansion and loss of 

information in the archeological record (C = information 

about human behavior contained in each state; N = information about natural factors acting on the sample since 

initial deposit). 

problem is to find methods to estimate the various 

kinds of bias, so that the information in a collection can be partitioned between cultural and 

natural factors. The best description of this process, as it refers to animal remains, is found in the 

report of a South Dakota paleontological study 

(Clark and Kietzke, 1967). While Clark and 

Kietzke's discussion focuses on those factors that 

affect paleontological deposits, it is easy to draw 

parallels to cultural biases. Biotic factors determine which animals and plants are available in 

a locality and are potential candidates for burial. 

They are analogous to culture—the ordered set 

of rules that determine what human behavior 

occurs. Thanatic factors determine the probability 

of an individual animal dying in the locality 

sampled. They are roughly analogous to the variables that determine the physical consequences 
NUMBER 30 159 

population in cultural materials. With regard to 

archeological fauna, these would include factors 

that control the selection of animals for slaughter, 

and the distribution of meat, bone, sinew, and 

hide throughout a community. Perthotaxic factors 

in a fossil locality are the attritional variables that 

work to modify and destroy the remains of dead 

animals before they are incorporated into a deposit. Natural factors include the effects of climate and the depredation of scavengers. In cultural situations, such processes as the utilization 

of bones for tools, the pattern of bone debris 

discard, and the trampling and kicking of previously discarded objects add to the modification 

of the physical consequences population (Gifford 

and Behrensmeyer, 1977:245, 257-258).Thanatic 

and perthotaxic factors have been summarized 

by White (1955:401-402) as a series of empirical 

questions: 

1. Did the people exercise any choice in the age of the 

animals they killed. . . .? 2. Which elements were brought 

into the camp or village and which elements were left at the 

kill. . . .? 3. Are the right or left, or front or hind, limb 

elements most abundant in any particular find? 

To these technological/cultural factors should be 

added the perthotaxic effect of bone grease manufacture. As Vehik (1977) has shown, bone frequencies can be considerably affected by this 

technology. 

Taphonomic factors come into play after burial 

(Behrensmeyer and Hill, 1980:xi). These include 

the attritional effects of soil chemistry, sediment 

movement, contact with roots, and the action of 

soil animals. Perhaps the most obvious of these 

disturbances is the action of fossorial rodents. 

Anataxic factors are those that erode out deposited 

fossils and destroy them. The most striking example of a cultural anataxic factor was the 20th 

century mining of bison bone beds (Davis 1978). 

Other more mundane examples include ancient 

site refuse or excavation for the creation of 

cemeteries. The combination of perthotaxic, taphonomic, and anataxic factors combine in 

Cowgill's terms to transform physical consequences populations into physical finds populations. 

Between the fossil assemblage (or physical 

finds) and the collection studied are a variety of 

sullegic or sampling factors. In zooarcheology the 

most important of these is that archeological 

excavations are not designed primarily to recover 

evidence about the use of animals (bison kill sites 

are an important exception^ For example, B. 

Gilbert (1969:292), in his study of prehistoric diet 

and butchering technology in South Dakota, attributes much of the difference between his results 

and those of White to the fact that 

the bones analyzed for this project were collected as a 

standard procedure during excavation of sites, primarily of 

houses, rather than trash heaps. Indeed the enormous bone 

deposits at some sites known to the author would in themselves fill all the work space in most museums, and to collect 

it all would be a tremendous work task. However, more 

extensive excavations or trash heaps are necessary to gain an 

unbiased sample. 

Because of the lack of zooarcheological input into 

research designs, there is often no clear theoretical 

relationship, definable in cultural terms, to link 

sample and finds, or more than a general feeling 

for the kinds of bone material missed. The second 

kind of sullegic bias is a product of excavation 

technique. In discussing the Wittrock Mill Creek 

Culture site, Semken (1971:111) notes: "The 

smallest bone in the recovered sample is slightly 

in excess of one half inch and most are well over 

an inch. Isolated teeth, vertebra, and foot bones 

of identified rodents were not recovered. This 

suggests that voles, mice, and shrews may be 

missing because of their small size and sampling 

technique." Also, sorting recovered faunal material into "identifiable" and "unidentifiable" fractions, then discarding the latter, leads to considerable bias when the sorters are either little 

trained or have widely different ideas about the 

meaning of the term "identifiable" (Falk, 

1977:154). 

Between a collection and a report stand a body 

of trephic or curatorial factors. The most important of these is that individual bone fragments 

are not equally identifiable in all collections. For 

example, in Plains collections of historic date, 

cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, and horses may be pre-
160 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

sent alongside the indigenous wild taxa. Bone 

fragments from these domestic species can easily 

be confused with small fragments of bison, antelope, or deer. Because of the more complex zoological picture, it is more difficult to assign a bone 

fragment to a taxon purely on the basis of size. 

As a result, bone counts are likely to be reflective 

of historic and prehistoric situations in different 

ways. In general, the number of bone fragments 

identified as belonging to a species varies with the 

number of potentially misleading forms in the 

sample, the ability of the zooarcheologists to observe the distinctions, and the variability of the 

distinctions themselves. 

Figure 24 is an attempt to illustrate the interplay of all these biasing factors and the correspondence between Cowgill's model of cultural 

information and Clark and Kietzke's discussion 

of fossil assemblages. Overall, the information 

content of a collection tends to decrease with 

time, while the interplay of cultural (C) data and 

natural (N) data becomes more complex. Since 

the features observed in a faunal sample must be 

partitioned between cultural and natural factors 

in order to interpret past behavior, the transformation processes that change one level into another are of central interest to zooarcheologists. 

Sullegic Bias 

It has been amply demonstrated (Clason and 

Prummel, 1977; Thomas, 1969; Watson, 1972) 

that the technology of collection—screening, water sieving—can markedly affect the number and 

size of bones collected (Semken, 1971:111). To 

estimate sullegic bias, it is necessary to determine 

what part of the potential finds are not being 

adequately collected. Watson (1972) demonstrates that each collection technique is associated 

with what he calls a "critical size." A critical size 

is the smallest size a fragment can be and still be 

certain to be recovered by the collection technique employed at the excavation. Critical size 

can be determined empirically by examining a 

histogram that shows the frequency distribution 

of the different bone fragment sizes found in an 

excavation. Above the critical size, the distribution will form a smooth curve; below, it will drop 

to much lower values and the curve will be 

sharply irregular. Another important variable in 

analysis is the "minimum size." This is the smallest a fragment may be and still be identified as to 

what kind of bone it was and to what kind of 

animal it belonged. For a single species this 

trephic variable changes from collection to collection based on the number of potentially confusing 

forms encountered. Obviously, minimum size is 

larger with larger animals. 

It should be possible to use the concepts of 

critical size and minimum size to design an excavation sampling scheme. If on the basis of 

historical information relating to the site, ethnographic considerations, or previous archeological 

experience in the region, it is possible to determine 

what species are likely to be important for cultural interpretation, a screen size can be chosen 

that is small enough to capture a critical size less 

than the minimum size for the species of interest. 

For example, if the quantitative relationship between antelope and bison is deemed to be the 

primary zooarcheological statistic of interest, a 

screen size would be chosen that is larger than 

would be required to detect reliably the quantitative relationships between rodent taxa. Adoption of this strategy, however, while it may satisfy 

an immediate goal of speeding up excavation, 

carries with it the responsibility of explaining in 

the future why potentially retrievable information was ignored. 

More importantly, the same relationship can 

be used to salvage information from collections 

obtained under less than ideal sampling conditions. If the collections of interest are sorted in a 

nested set of graded screens, it would be possible 

to determine their critical sizes. A collection of 

unsorted faunal remains can be passed sequentially through a set of graded screens. The resulting sized subsamples can be analyzed quantitatively to determine empirically the collection's 

critical size. Information about smaller species 

would be lost, but at least the bone counts reported for the larger forms would be comparable 
NUMBER 30 161 

between sites. Since so much of Plains zooarcheology is bison dominated, such a procedure could 

generate a significant amount of information 

from older collections, information that could be 

compared to data from the most intensively excavated site. 

Both Watson (1972) and Thomas (1969) describe how adjustments can be made where part 

of the site is still available for intensive excavation. These techniques use the frequencies derived 

from small, intensively collected subsamples to 

create recovery factors relevant to different sizes 

of bones or animals. The recovery factors are then 

used to adjust the frequencies of the non-intensively collected sample. One should be cautioned 

that this procedure makes strong assumptions 

about the homogeneity of the deposit. Falk 

(1977:154) cites some examples from the Plains 

where this kind of adjustment would be an unwise 

procedure: 

Frequency distributions for major classes plotted by provenience unit (outside house, roof/floor fill, subfloor pit etc.) 

at Jake White Bull revealed a "differential distribution of 

both fish and amphibian remains, with the great majority of 

each class occurring in subfioor pits . . . ." Evidence from the 

VValth Bay and Bower Grand sites demonstrate similar 

patterns at comparable recovery levels ... . 

The data from Mowry Bluff (Falk 1969:45, table 

8) also show definite intrasite variability, since 

one deposit, feature 7, has a very different assemblage compared to the rest of the site. 

Estimating the Finds Population 

The most common statistic employed in zooarcheology is the Minimum Number of Individuals 

(MNI) (see the discussions in Bokonyi, 1970; Casteel, 1977; Chaplin, 1971; Daly, 1969; Grayson, 

1973, 1978; Holtzman, 1979). MNI is equal to 

the frequency of the most abundant bone type 

(humerus, radius, etc.) in the subsample of bones 

assigned to a particular taxon. It represents the 

smallest number of animals necessary to produce 

the sample of bones observed. MNI has often 

been cited as the best estimator of species frequency in the finds population (e.g., Butler, 

1974:97; Falk, 1977:153), and it is the statistic 

implied in the passage that introduces this paper. 

Nevertheless, some aspects of the use of the statistic in the analysis of the finds populations of 

habitation debris can be called into question. 

Unfortunately, the exact method of calculating 

MNI is not often spelled out in reports. An important exception is contained in the excellent 

report of Parmalee (1977) on Plains avifauna. 

Because it illustrates well important points about 

MNI, his procedure is cited here in detail (Parmalee, 1977:193): 

The minimum number of individuals represented by each 

species was determined by selecting the element which was 

the most numerous in the site sample, e.g. a right humerus, 

a left femur, and so forth. Once this number was obtained, 

the elements were then compared with those of the opposite 

side to determine if any were paired; those which could not 

be paired were added to the total MNI. In some instances 

when the MNI was based on a particular element from all 

adult birds and a juvenile was represented in the sample but 

not by that particular bone, it was obvious that another 

individual should be added to MNI. The assumption was 

made that the individuals represented at each site were 

unique to that site and that parts of one bird would not, in 

all probability, be encountered in two or more sites. To 

illustrate, remains of the turkey vulture occurred in seven 

sites and it was assumed, therefore, that at least seven 

individual birds were represented. If all 18 elements had 

been considered together, however, the MNI would have 

been three based on the carpometacarpus. 

Several objections can be raised about the use of 

MNI. The variance associated with MNI is larger 

than that associated with other estimators of finds 

populations (p. 166), mostly because it uses only 

part of the bone elements assigned to a taxon to 

estimate frequency (Holtzman, 1979:86). Much 

more important is the point that by focusing 

attention on the relative abundance of whole 

animals, the MNI statistic makes an assumption 

about the relationship of the finds population to 

the consequences population. It can be argued 

that a few bones do not necessarily represent the 

original deposition in the site area sampled of a 

whole animal (what Wedel (1970) was wrestling 

with in his review of the Mowry Bluff sample). 

Use of rates for whole animals implies an assumption that the finds collection represents a taphon-
162 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

omic transformation of a consequences population composed of whole animals. Such an assumption is probably not warranted in many 

midden samples. For instance, Pitts (1979:37-38) 

has recently suggested that antler counts may be 

a poor estimator of the frequency of deer carcasses 

at Star Carr since antlers were scavenged for 

manufacture into tools. A general statement describing the nature of the problem is provided by 

Binford (1978:477-478): 

Faunal assemblages are commonly the consequences of 

multiple segmental strategies ultimately converging on locations where consumer or social utility concerns 

dominate... . Faunal assemblages are commonly compounded populations resulting from multiple decisions made 

about anatomical segments, not animals. 

These observations help to focus the conflicting 

interpretations of the Mowry Bluff sample. 

Clearly, the excavation concentrated on areas 

where "consumer activity" dominated—as Falk 

(1969) indicates, the bison and deer samples 

mostly contain tools or the raw material for tools. 

Kill and processing areas were not encountered. 

The animal segments represented are a selection 

drawn from whole carcasses. Gilbert's (1979) 

analysis of the effect of selection for tools on 

faunal assemblages indicates that these selected 

segments may be poor estimators of either diet or 

animal mortality. A positive conclusion that 

should be drawn is that the Mowry Bluff bone 

tools should not be used in frequency estimation 

(for a similar conclusion, see Hesse and Perkins, 

1974), and that other bone types would be better 

indicators. Second, the specialized nature of the 

Mowry Bluff samples indicates that only one part 

of a sequential animal use strategy spread over 

several site locations was recovered archeologically. Therefore, it is invalid to speak of a total 

number of animals, as is possible in many bison 

kill sites. The frequencies measured by bone 

counts of midden deposits are relative values. An 

unanswered question is whether the sequential 

animal use strategy of this part of the Plains was 

unilineal or radiating. Very different interpretations would have to be put on a sample if, instead 

of one kill site serving one processing site that 

serves one consuming site, the pattern was dendritic, with one kill site serving the needs of 

several consuming sites. 

A second measure often employed to estimate 

the frequency of a species in a deposit is the total 

number of bone fragments assigned to that species 

(E). An important trephic bias affects this estimator. If one species can be recognized from 

many bone elements, while another can only be 

recognized from a few, the likelihood that an 

individual animal of the first species will be 

counted is enhanced. The error associated with 

this kind of bias can be avoided by compiling a 

hierarchy of comparisons for the different taxonomic categories used. For example, if in a collection containing three taxa, taxon A can be distinguished from taxa B and C for every bone type, 

but B and C can only be distinguished on the 

basis of mandible morphology it is more accurate 

to use a pair of ratios A : B + C and B : C to 

express species frequency, than a single ratio A : 

B :C. 

Interdependence is another source of bias in 

total specimen counts (Grayson, 1973:432; Lyman, 1979:536). Counting the different parts of 

the skeleton together creates the possibility that 

a single carcass will actually be counted more 

than once. Just how important a bias interdependence is depends on the kind of site that is 

excavated (how many of the end products of the 

total cultural inventory of multiple sequential 

strategies are represented in the sample) and the 

size of the sample with respect to the actual finds 

population. At one end of the spectrum are kill 

sites, where single short episodes of slaughter 

create the physical consequences population. Because sample size is large and geological observations indicate a majority of the original deposition was recovered, interdependence is extremely high. On the other hand, when the sample studied is small, and the site is large and was 

occupied for a long time, the probability of interdependence is related to the size of the area over 

which the bones of a typical carcass eventually 

come to rest—the degree of technological and 

perthotaxic disarticulation—and the kind of sam-
NUMBER 30 163 

pling scheme used. The problem of interdependence is most significant when the taxon estimate 

is taken as a quantity rather than a proportion. 

When taxon frequency based on E is taken as a 

relative figure, interdependence is significant only 

when different species have different degrees of 

this bias. 

With regard to fossil assemblages, Holtzman 

(1979:81-82) has made these remarks about 

taxon estimators and interdependence: 

It is unfortunate, I think, that the abundance of the most 

abundant element has come to be known as the minimum 

number of individuals because the latter term leaves the 

impression that there is something intrinsically important 

about the minimum number of individuals. Its conceptual 

insignificance can be appreciated by imagining that specimens originating from a single once living individual could 

somehow be recognized with certainty. For a great many 

fossil assemblages the resulting true minimum number of 

individuals would equal or nearly equal the number of 

specimens. The MNI estimate would then converge on frequency of specimens, the very estimate that it was designed 

to avoid. The common origin of two specimens from a single 

once living individual is only of interest when the sampling 

procedure is biased so that the collection of one such specimen increases the probability of collecting the other. The 

relationship of MNI (or any other estimate) to this sampling 

bias remains largely unknown. 

The guess that true MNI probably approaches 

total count is considered a reasonable assumption 

for faunal samples from Near Eastern tells 

(Hecker 1975; Hesse and Perkins, 1974; Perkins, 

1973). An example that can be used to extend 

this opinion to North American sites has been 

presented by Guilday (1970) for historic Fort 

Ligonier, Pennsylvania. For the Plains, B. Gilbert 

(1969:286, table 7) provides an instructive example. From ethnographic data, he calculated 

the bison meat consumption of a typical villager 

at two pounds per day. He then calculated the 

total amount of meat represented by the MNI for 

bison based on the samples recovered from a 

single site. Depending on the length of occupation 

and the number of inhabitants visualized (Gilbert 

offers three scenarios), the sample recovered only 

accounts for between 2 and 6 percent of the bison 

meat required. 

If interdependence affects the sample for the 

various species in a site differentially, it would be 

very important to measure this effect. Such a 

procedure has long been carried out in Plains 

bison kills, but rarely has it been considered for 

midden sites anywhere. Exceptions include 

Poplin's (1975) painstaking reconstruction of 

bone fragments that led to his discovery of 

discard units in a trash heap. Coy (1977:129) 

offers the least mechanical approach to the problem of interdependence. She describes a value 

called the "probable number of individuals," 

which is defined as "a personal estimate of the 

actual number of animals represented, arrived at 

after detailed study of the bones themselves and 

the groupings in which they were found." This 

procedure is analogous to that described by Parmalee (1977:193) in the corrections he makes to 

MNI based on age considerations, though his 

final assessment indicates he feels that interdependence is high in the collections he studied. 

Schram and Turnbull (1970:3) stated in the 

introduction to their study of the Broom Cave 

fauna: "In order to arrive at an estimate of the 

actual size of a sample that is comprised largely 

(or entirely) of very fragmentary materials, a 

means of confining and restricting the spread 

between the assessments of maximum and minimum numbers of individuals must be found." 

They propose the calculation of two values in 

addition to MNI. One is the "age spread minimum number of individuals," which is calculated 

in the same way Parmalee calculates MNI. The 

other value is the "minimal estimate of the maximum number of individuals." This value is arrived at by defining skeletal portions likely to be 

preserved as units based on an understanding of 

the nature of the deposit. This procedure is related to the point made by Binford (1978:478), 

that anatomical units are what are processed by 

cultural systems. White (1956:402) points out, 

"In certain groups the parents and grandparents 

of the man and wife customarily received specific 

elements of the carcass such as the left front leg." 

It is possible to elaborate on ethnographic observations, such as White's, to create a list of anatomical parts likely to be interdependent and to 
164 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

use Statistical techniques to test for them empirically (e.g., Binford, 1978:88; Reher, 1977:33, for 

bison processing). 

Grayson's (1973) contrast between minimum 

and maximum distinction methods in the calculation of MNI corrects for interdependence on a 

locational rather than an anatomical basis. He 

notes that MNI values for taxa in a whole sample 

are larger when calculated by summing subtotal 

MNI for each excavation unit than when calculated by taking the whole site sample together. 

By reducing the number of stratigraphic distinctions used in making the calculation, the size of 

the site area seen as likely to produce interdependent specimens is increased. By making the 

number of stratigraphic distinctions large, on the 

other hand, the zooarcheologist implies his conviction that interdependence is limited to small 

site areas. This is precisely the operation Parmalee 

is performing when he sums the MNI for birds 

across sites. He implies a lack of interdependence 

between sites but strong interdependence within 

sites. Krantz (1968) also has proposed a method 

for estimating species frequency by using a kind 

of a measure of sample interdependence. He suggests that the proportion of pairable right and 

left bone fragments of the same element type 

(e.g., the number of cases in which it can be 

shown that pairs of right and left mandibles came 

from the same individual) compared to the total 

number of fragments of that element is related to 

the proportion of the whole finds population that 

is actually recovered. Krantz's equation relating 

the number of pairs to the number of animals in 

the finds collection is a hyperbolic relationship 

(Casteel, 1977). At low levels of pairing, an enormous change in the estimated number of individuals is produced by a loss or gain of one pairing. 

Since in practice it is extremely difficult to establish pairs, the potential for error in a sample of 

low interdependence is tremendous. 

Considerable attention has been paid to the 

relationship between MNI and total fragment 

count E. For instance, Casteel (1976-1977) used 

a sample of 610 pairs of data (MNI and E), 

drawn from a wide variety of archeological and 

paleontological studies. By plotting MNI against 

E, he produced a curvilinear relationship when E 

is less than 1000 specimens and a linear relationship when E is greater than 1000 specimens. 

Grayson (1978) and Ducos (1975:42, note 1) have 

also reported a curvilinear relationship. Casteel 

(1976-1977:142-145) has provided a succinct 

summary of other analyses. King (1978) also plotted the relationship of MNI to E for a wide 

variety of sites but partitioned his sample into 

subsamples composed of the values for cows, pigs, 

and sheep (King, 1978, fig. 2). 

This observation has led some workers to the 

conclusion that MNI values cannot be compared 

when the difference between the size of the samples used to compute them is great. This conclusion is in error. The nature of the MNI statistic 

does not imply this curvilinear relationship. The 

slope of the line that relates MNI and E for any 

group of samples is controlled by the probability 

of recovering the most common type of bone 

element. In cases where only one element type 

has distinctive morphological features permitting 

the identification of the taxon, the slope of the 

plot MNI to E for a group of samples of this 

taxon is equal to 1. No matter how big or how 

small the sample, each bone fragment identified 

necessarily increases the MNI by 1. In taxa where 

several element types have distinctive morphological features the situation is more complex. The 

upper limit of the slope is 1; the case where, 

despite the fact that there are several potentially 

recognizable bone element types, only one type is 

actually recovered. The lower limit of the slope is 

defined by the situation where each of the possible 

element types are found in equal proportions. On 

the average, one of each of the element types 

accumulates in the process of identification before 

the MNI increases by one. Figure 25 illustrates 

this range of potential slopes for a species with 10 

potentially identifiable element types. The upper 

limit of the slope is shown by "a": each bone 

fragment identified for the taxon is the same kind 

of bone element. The lower limit is "b" : all 10 

element types are found in equal proportions. As 

the number of identifiable bone elements in-
NUMBER 30 165 

MNI MNI 

oo 

FIGURE 25.—The extremes of the possible relationships between minimum number of individuals (MNI) and total 

fragment count (E) (a = relationship when each species is 

represented by one bone type; b = relationship when each 

species is represented by ten bone types). 

creases, the lower limit "b " gets closer to the Xaxis. In practice, bone element types are not 

found in equal proportions, and the position of a 

sample within the pie-shaped range is controlled 

by what Holtzman (1979:78) has called the 

"effective number of elements per individual" 

(ENI). For instance, if one of the 10 element types 

in the example actually turned up as 25% of the 

samples, then the ENI would be 4 and the slope 

of the relationship between MNI and E would 

have a rise of about 1 in 4 instead of 1 in 10. 

Therefore, any deviation from a straight line in 

the relationship between MNI and E is due to a 

change in the probability of recovering the most 

common element type. 

Some empirical evidence can be produced to 

show that this is the case. If the MNI and E 

values for all the bird samples in Parmalee's 

report (1977:199, table 3) are plotted, the linear 

configuration in Figure 26 results, indicating that 

the effective number of individuals for the different taxonomic groups in the samples does not 

vary greatly. For other kinds of fauna the situation is somewhat different. Computing the ENI 

for bison in the three samples published by Gilbert (1969:283, table 4) yields the following three 

FIGURE 26.—Plot of the relationship between MNI and E 

for a series of bird-bone samples from the Plains (Parmalee, 

1977). The relationship is linear because the effective number 

of elements per individual (ENI) for all the samples falls 

within a very small range. 

MN 

25 1X100) 

FIGURE 27.—Relationship between MNI and E for a series 

of caprine samples from three Near Eastern tells (X = points 

for the site of Godin Tepe (A. Gilbert, 1979), which produce 

the line A; 0 = points for the site of Beidha (Hecker, 1975), 

which produce the line B; dots = points for the site of Tepe 

Ganj Dareh (Hesse, 1978), which produce the line C; units 

of E should be multiplied by 100). 

values: Woodland, 6.9; Middle Missouri, 14.5; 

Coalescent, 14.2. Adding values calculated from 

Calabrese's (1972) study, 37.7 (his table 13), and 

48 (his table 15), one can see evidence of what 

would appear to be a highly variable relationship 

between sites. In Figure 27 the relationship between MNI and E for the caprine samples for 

three Near Eastern tell sites are plotted. Each of 

the distributions can be approximated by a 

straight line. This suggests that the effective num-
166 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ber of individuals per taxon is consistent within 

a sample though differing between sites and not 

controlled by sample size. What varies between 

the sites is the pattern of skeletal recovery. In the 

case of the Near Eastern samples, the distribution 

of the different bone types within each site's 

subsamples are similar. In the case of the bison 

samples reported by B. Gilbert (1969:283), this is 

clearly not the case. The Woodland sites have a 

relative absence of toe bones compared to the 

Middle Missouri and Coalescent sites. The result 

is widely different effective numbers of individuals. The point of these comments is to demonstrate that the curvilinear relationship produced 

empirically by a plot of many MNI/E combinations does not reflect patterned bias in the way 

either estimates a consequences population of 

whole animals. It is possible to say that any factor 

that (1) increases the number of categories of 

element types (a trephic factor like the discovery 

of new morphological distinctions); (2) increases 

the recovery rate of small bone fragments (a 

sullegic factor like reducing screen size); or (3) 

changes the skeletal recovery pattern (a cultural 

factor like a change in the location of animal 

processing activities) will vary the relationship 

between MNI and E. Whether either effectively 

mirrors the finds population is a separate question. 

Another method of estimating taxon frequency 

in the finds population has been proposed (Gilbert and Steinfeld, 1977; Hesse and Perkins, 1974; 

Holtzman 1979; Perkins, 1973; Wapnish et al., 

1977). It attempts to overcome one weakness of 

the MNI approach by using a greater proportion 

of the sample, and one weakness of the E approach by correcting for the variable number of 

elements identifiable in different species. Called 

the weighted abundance of elements (WAE) by 

Holtzman (1979:80), and relative frequency (rf) 

by Perkins (1973), it is calculated by dividing E 

by the number of bone elements that are potentially identifiable in a species skeleton. Two 

choices exist in the way the division is done. With 

one, E is divided by the number of element types 

that are actually present in the sample. This is 

roughly equivalent to an average MNI. Each 

element type is considered an estimator of relative 

species frequency. Taking the average minimizes 

the risk associated with a single element estimator 

(roughly the comparison between a mean and a 

mode as a measure of central tendency). With the 

other, E is divided by the potential number of 

identifiable element types, whether or not they 

are actually represented in the sample. With both 

choices it is recommended that element types 

with extremely low frequency of recovery be omitted from both values in the calculation. The first 

choice reflects the view that only a portion of an 

animal's carcass, in many cases, is likely to be 

consistently interred in a cultural deposit (for 

instance, only foot bones) and that calculations 

using the second method would underestimate 

taxon frequency. The second method reflects the 

view that, in general, whole carcasses are interred 

in cultural deposits, and it is the effects of attrition 

that reduce the number of element types recovered. Since the rf estimator is prone to error 

from differential preservation, it is critical that 

the divisor be chosen with some consideration of 

what the choice implies about preservation. 

Holtzman (1979) has compared the performance of rf/WAE and MNI in a series of computer 

simulations. He concluded that "in all simulations the WAE estimates showed generally 

smaller mean squared errors than the MNI estimates, even under most conditions where the 

WAE bias was larger than the MNI bias." 

Where the distorting effects of natural or cultural factors are suspected to be large, it is advantageous to dispense with trying to estimate the 

taxon frequency in the finds or consequences 

populations. Procedures of this type have been 

described by Binford (1978) and Lyman (1977; 

1979). These approaches consider faunal remains 

as animal parts rather than as whole animals. 

The potential resource value (in terms of meat, 

fat, sinew, grease) is estimated for each bone 

fragment type and multiplied by the bone element frequency. The output of this kind of analysis is a description of the resources represented, 

not an estimate of the proportion of each species 
NUMBER 30 167 

taken to contribute to the economy. 

Applying these observations to the Mowry 

Bluff sample leads to the following conclusions. 

The 229 bison scapulae and the 6 deer metapodials are rejected as estimators of species frequency on the grounds that they owe their presence in the site to their selection as tools. Twentyfive of the remaining bison bones are assumed to 

be interdependent but none of the deer bones. Of 

the non-interdependent, nonspecially selected 

bone fragments, 25 are bison and 10 are deer. In 

each case the bones fall into eight skeletal categories. It would seem, therefore, that on the basis 

of this very small sample, conservatively, bison 

were more than twice as frequent as deer. The 

contrast would be even stronger in an animal 

parts analysis. 

Perthotaxic, Taphonomic, and Anataxic Bias 

Vehik (1977) has considered the perthotaxic 

implications of bone grease manufacturing on the 

Plains and has produced a model of the kinds of 

bone fragments likely to be recovered. She 

(1977:171-172) concludes that, in addition to 

large quantities of fingernail-sized bone chips, 

there should be an absence of legs, feet, ribs and 

vertebra, with the possible exception of the articular ends of the long bones. However, she observes 

that bone chips are not only found in bone grease 

manufacturing sites. As an independent test for 

the ancient presence of this technology, she proposes that the organic components of bone chips, 

which are boiled, and articular ends, which are 

not, be compared. It should be remembered, 

however, that the shafts and articular ends of 

long bones start out with collagen fractions that 

are somewhat different. 

Nonhuman perthotaxic factors have also been 

modeled. In general, once a bone fragment is 

discarded it begins a transformation that will 

eventually lead to its disappearance (or its transformation into a fossil). In the presence of an 

attritional agent, erosion is probably slow at first, 

then increasingly rapid as the bone's integrity is 

lost (Binford and Bertram, 1977:113, figs. 3, 10; 

Brain, 1976). The denser the original bone fragment, the longer the disappearance takes (see 

Behrensmeyer, 1978, for a discussion of bone 

weathering). This observation has led Binford 

and Bertram (1977) and A. Gilbert (1979) to 

predict that some of the variance in observed 

bone frequencies compared to the proportion of 

element types in a living animal must be the 

result of the differing density of the various bone 

elements. The relationship is extremely complex. 

Imagine a situation in which an equal number of 

several different bone elements are exposed to an 

attritional agent. Each will tend to disappear at 

a different rate. Because of these different rates, 

the frequency proportions between the different 

bone types will constantly change with time. 

Binford and Bertram (1977) have developed a 

mathematical model of this sort to predict the 

proportions for the different elements of sheep 

and caribou skeletons found on Navajo and Eskimo sites after attrition by dogs. 

A start has been made in modelling the taphonomic conditions affecting bone deposits. 

Buried bone undergoes gradual chemical alteration that leads to a loss of physical integrity. Hare 

(1980:218) conducted a simulation of the leaching 

process, and concluded: 

Qualitative observation during the simulation experiments showed that, as water reacted with the protein in the 

bone fragments, the bone fragments became progressively 

chalkier and easier to break apart. Samples that had been 

leached extensively were generally easy to crush and cut. In 

the early stages of the reactions where collagen was still 

present, the fragments would show the intact pseudomorphic 

ghosts of the bone fragments. Bone strength and hardness 

appeared only slightly less than that of fresh bone material. 

As the reactions progressed the pseudomorphic ghosts looked 

progressively less intact until there was no longer any pseudomorph left—only a few scattered fragments of organic 

material. At this stage there was substantially less strength 

and hardness left in the bone fragment. The fragments were 

somewhat chalky and easily crushed with the fingers. 

Evidence now exists (D.W. Von Endt, Smithsonian, pers. comm.) that indicates that organic preservation is quite variable among bones of the 

same type and species in the same site. In the 

author's examination of a very small sample of 
168 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

bones recovered from Deer Creek, Oklahoma, it 

was clear that some of the bones were in a fragile 

state of preservation. The eventual interpretation 

of bone material excavated from that site will 

require consideration of the effects of chemical 

attrition. 

Anataxic factors have been described for fossil 

localities (e.g., Hanson, 1980; Wolff, 1973), but 

similar models have not been produced for cultural materials. 

Biotic, Thanatic, and Cultural Bias 

Much of the work done in the Plains recognizes 

the effects of these biases on bone assemblages. 

Semken (1971; 1974) has worked extensively to 

reconstruct the biotic communities in which the 

Plains peoples lived through the analysis of microfauna found in their sites. Considerable effort 

also has been expanded to understand the history 

of bison on the Plains and how it affected the 

zooarcheological record (e.g., Dillehay, 1974; 

Gordon, 1979; Gunnerson, 1972). One of the most 

extensive sections of the literature deals with 

thanatic bias. Bone remains from numerous bison 

kill sites have been published and the evidence 

analyzed for patterns of selective hunting and 

butchering techniques (Davis and Wilson, 1978). 

Two smaller topics can be used to illustrate the 

process of estimating cultural bias. Ubelaker and 

Wedel (1975:450-451) suggest "that cut bird 

skulls, wing and leg bones, and perhaps talons 

found in such deposits, particularly if in close 

proximity to one another, may indicate one-time 

medicine objects rather than the by-products of 

the more mundane food quests." Parmalee's 

(1977) report provides an opportunity to examine 

this suggestion. If bird carcasses were being processed to provide skin, head, and talon ornaments, 

it would be expected that bird skeletons would 

be differentially preserved in habitation debris. 

In particular the leg bones of the raptors would 

be preserved as would their skulls and the skulls 

of crows and ravens. The axial skeleton would be 

underrepresented. The data presented in Parmalee's report (1977:208, table 4) were regrouped 

for the four most common bird families into four 

skeletal parts: skull, axial skeleton, wing, and leg 

(Table 2). The chi-square statistic computed for 

Table 2, 73.4, indicates that the variation in the 

table entries is greater than would be expected 

from random variation. The table shows that the 

three largest deviations from expected values are 

the abundance of crow and raven heads (Corvidae), the abundance of hawk and eagle legs (Accipitridae), and the relative lack of duck, goose, 

or swan feet (Anatidae). The abundance of crow 

and raven heads and hawk and eagle legs agrees 

with the suggestions made above, and indicates 

that differential processing activity can be preserved in the faunal record although such other 

potential biases as sullegic or trephic factors cannot be rigorously excluded. In addition, while the 

values do not vary between species, the number 

of bones of the axial skeleton is small for all forms. 

Wedel (1970:17) mentions the hunting of rodents on the Plains: 

TABLE 2.—Distribution of the skeletal parts for four bird families on the basis of samples 

studied by Parmalee (1977:208, table 4) (O = observed; E = expected X"^ = 73.4) 

Character 

Skull 

Axial skeleton 

Wing 

Leg 

Total parts 

observed 

0 

16 

27 

339 

71 

453 

Anatidae 

E 

15.2 

20.0 

294.5 

123.3 

X^ 

0.04 

2.5 

6.7 

22.2 

Accipitrid 

0 

32 

42 

633 

352 

1059 

E 

35.5 

46.7 

688 6 

288.2 

l e 

X'' 

0.35 

0.47 

4.5 

14.1 

Tetraonidae 

0 

2 

14 

220 

100 

336 

E 

11.3 

14.8 

218.5 

91.5 

X^ 

7.6 

0.05 

0.01 

0.80 

0 

26 

17 

282 

94 

419 

Corvidae 

E X^ 

14.1 10.2 

18.5 0.12 

272.4 0.34 

114.1 3.5 
NUMBER 30 169 

Among the historic Comanche prairie dogs and ground 

squirrels were often the first wild game sought by small boys 

learning the use of bow and arrow and developing hunting 

skills ... . The surprising abundance of prairie dog bones at 

Medicine Creek reservoir sites suggests that the animal may 

indeed have been a regular and accepted supplemental food 

item along with pocket gophers and jackrabbits. 

T.W. Clark (1975:72-73) provides the following 

ethnographic description of a prairie dog hunt: 

They hunted prairie dogs. When it rained good, a real 

heavy rain, they'd go out and hunt the prairie dogs. They 

would go to their town and they would find a little pond 

close to that. They dug a ditch toward the prairie dogs holes, 

and they helped each other. They dug the ditch, and water 

would flow into the holes. When bubbles started coming up, 

the dogs would come out. The little and the big ones. Some 

of them, that were about two months old. That was the size 

they liked. The dogs would come and see them, and then 

jump back into the water. When the dogs came out, they 

could catch them and wring their necks by swinging them 

around their heads. They threw them over in the weeds. The 

big ones could bite, but the little ones don't bite much. They 

were afraid of the big ones. They went along from hole to 

hole. When they had killed about five or six, they would 

take them and build a big fire. They would throw the dogs 

in it, and singe off the fur. They scraped the dogs real 

smooth. They cut the neck and split the dog lengthwise in 

two. They cleaned it real good, like a rabbit. They could 

boil it. These dogs don't eat nothing rotten, they just eat 

clean things, some kind of sour that grown there in their 

town. 

In winter time, the dogs used to live on nuts, they would 

bring them to their holes one at a time. Nuts and walnuts, 

sometimes, they would float up in the water. Maybe, I ate 

them when I was a little girl, but I don't know. 

The difficulty with prairie dogs, pocket gophers, and other fossorial animals is that it is hard 

to determine whether the bones of these species 

found in archeological sites are intrusive or not. 

Wilson (1973:232) has suggested that the adaptation by Thomas (1971) of Shotwell's (1958) 

distinction between distal and proximal taxa may 

be a way to make the determination. Shotwell 

argued that animals which died close to the point 

of deposition (proximal species) are more likely 

to be represented in a sample by most of the 

elements in their skeletons; those that died at a 

distance from the point of deposition (distal species) are likely to be represented by only a few 

elements. Thomas argued that species that are 

utilized by human groups are likely to appear to 

be "distal," represented by a few selected skeletal 

parts. The description given by T.W. Clark 

(1975:72-73) of prairie dog hunting would indicate that the head was discarded before the carcass was cooked. The skin would travel a different 

technological pathway than the edible part of the 

carcass on the basis of Wedel's (1961:143) description of a prairie dog skin bag. The boiling of the 

butchered prairie dogs would likely reduce the 

rest of the skeleton to a state where the bones 

either could be eaten or would have much reduced resistance to depositional conditions. 

The passage quoted above (T.W. Clark, 

1975:72-73) is strikingly similar to a description 

given the author in South America of the exploitation of a behavioral analog of Plains fossorial 

rodents, the cholulo {Ctenomys sp.). The method 

of capture and preparing is identical, driving the 

rodents from their holes with water, beheading, 

and skinning and roasting the carcasses. Additionally, it was stated that the bones, softened by 

cooking were entirely consumed. An archeological sample of Cholulo bones excavated in the area 

where this description was obtained contains almost entirely skull and mandible fragments, suggesting that these animals had been processed in 

a manner similar to the ethnographic description. 

The skeletal recovery pattern contrasted with that 

of an even smaller rodent, which was not described as a food source. As Wedel (1970:17) has 

suggested, this may also explain why pocket gophers and prairie dogs at Mowry Bluff were 

represented archeologically almost exclusively by 

cranial, maxillary, and mandibular fragments 

(Falk, 1969:47, table 9). 

These examples emphasize a point made by 

Vehik (1977:180-181). Because of the multiplicity of factors capable of producing a given bone 

distribution, "a more profitable approach would 

be to consider the archeological implications of 

the activity responsible for producing the bone 

fragments," than proceeding on a purely inductive basis to generate inferences. The rich ethnographic literature of the Plains will continue to 
170 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

provide improved cultural models for the explication of bias in archeological samples. 

Conclusions 

Quantitative zooarcheological methods are 

concerned with attributing the characteristics of 

a sample to the natural and cultural factors that 

stand between the past behavior and the present 

collection of buried objects. Unfortunately, archeological bones have been modified by clusters of 

factors, whose effects tend to mask one another; 

segregating each will be an exacting analytical 

task (Binford and Betram, 1977:105). Nevertheless, it is possible to sort the analytic problems 

into three broad areas. A variety of sampling and 

curatorial biases affect the way the samples we 

study reflect the collection potentially available 

for recovery. The kind of collection techniques 

employed in excavation affect the likelihood of 

recovering many small species and the quantitative relationships that are estimated for species 

for all sizes. Each of the statistics used to estimate 

species frequencies makes different assumptions 

about the nature of the archeological situation. 

Considerably more experimental work will be 

required to sort out the effects of such attritional 

factors as soil chemistry, root action, and mechanical erosion. Understanding the human behavior encoded in animal bones, in the Plains as 

elsewhere, however, ultimately demands a more 

detailed ethnographic knowledge of the way cultures affect the zoological world. 

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14(44, 2). 
Some Observations on the 

Central Plains Tradition in Iowa 

John A. Hotopp 

ABSTRACT 

A brief overview of the Central Plains tradition 

is presented to identify problems and models 

amenable to testing with data derived from the 

Glenwood locality. Recently obtained radiocarbon dates and other data from the Iowa excavations are presented to address problems of settlement pattern and chronology within the Central 

Plains tradition. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—The author wishes to 

thank the Iowa Department of Transportation 

and Federal Highway Administration who provided the funding for the series of earth lodge 

excavations in the Glenwood locality. Particular 

thanks are due to Dr. Margaret Bender and Dr. 

David Baerreis of the University of Wisconsin, 

Madison, for processing the majority of the radiocarbon samples cited in this study. Without their 

assistance, questions regarding many of the earlier 

radiocarbon dates from the Glenwood locality 

could not have been resolved. David Cook and 

Dr. and Mrs. Wedel read an earlier draft of this 

paper and offered many constructive comments. 

Responsibility for the final product, however, 

rests solely with the author. The assistance of 

Karyn McAdams in editing and typing several 

drafts of the manuscript is deeply appreciated. 

John A. Hotopp, Louisberger International, 100 Halsled Street, East 

Orange, New Jersey 07019. 

A Brief Overview of the Central Plains 

Tradition 

The first excavations of earth lodges attributed 

to the Nebraska phase of the Central Plains tradition were conducted in southwestern Iowa near 

the town of Glenwood by S.V. Proudfit and Seth 

Dean in the late 1870s (Dean, 1883; Proudfit 

1881a, 1881b, 1886a, 1886b). Some 20 years after 

the pioneering work by Proudfit and Dean, Robert F. Gilder, a journalist and amateur archeologist, carried out a number of excavations in eastern Nebraska which culminated in a series of 

descriptive articles (Gilder, 1907, 1909, 1911). 

Gilder later named this culture the Nebraska 

Culture (Gilder, 1926). 

In the 1930s, largely as a result of Works Project 

Administration (WPA) funding, intensive field 

work was conducted in Iowa, Kansas, and Nebraska, focusing in part on the square lodges of 

the Central Plains. In Iowa, Charles R. Keyes, 

director of the Iowa Archaeological Survey, and 

Ellison Orr, his field assistant, concentrated their 

attention on the Glenwood lodges during the 

1938 field season. Working with a WPA crew, 

Orr excavated 15 lodges and recorded an additional 68 in the Glenwood area (Orr, 1963, 10:4). 

By the close of the decade, archeologists had 

successfully delimited the approximate geographical boundary of the culture and had identified 

two variants, the Nebraska and Upper Republican phases. 

The Nebraska phase, which includes Glenwood 

(Anderson, 1961; Brown, 1967), is centered along 

173 
174 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

the Missouri River valley in northeastern Kansas, 

northwestern Missouri, southwestern Iowa, and 

eastern Nebraska. The Upper Republican phase 

is centered around the Republican River in 

south-central Nebraska and north-central Kansas 

(Figure 28). Other defined units include: St. Helena, situated in northeastern Nebraska; the Loup 

River phase, located along the Loup River in 

central Nebraska; and Smoky Hill, centered in 

the lower Smoky Hill-Kansas River drainage. 

The relationships between the Nebraska and 

Upper Republican variants have been considered 

by many researchers working with materials from 

the sites (Anderson, 1961:73-74; Brown, 1967:43-

53; Gilmore and Bell, 1936:301-355; Hill and 

Cooper, 1938:350-353; Strong, 1935:266-267; 

Wedel, 1940:310-316; Wood, 1969:97-111). In a 

summary statement. Brown (1967:49) pointed 

out that "traditionally, sites of the Nebraska and 

Upper Republican phases have been regarded as 

exhibiting similar house types and non-ceramic 

artifacts, and differing ceramic traits." 

The ceramic assemblages from the Nebraska 

phase were described by Gunnerson (1952), who 

divided them into two ware groups defined by 

rim form, decoration, and vessel shape. Additional minor ware groups and the presence of 

shell tempering were also noted. The typology 

developed by Gunnerson has been applied to 

both the Nebraska and Upper Republican variants. The preference for a type of pottery within 

each variant is measured in percentages, since the 

ware groups are represented in both phases. Coupled with the presence or absence of other artifact 

types, this preference denotes important regional 

variants, but does not mitigate the overwhelming 

FIGURE 28.—Major archeological units (shaded areas) of the Central Plains tradition in 

relation to the Glenwood locality (Roper, 1976:182) 
NUMBER 30 175 

similarity in the choice of sites, exploitative patterns, and architectural styles. The important 

point is that these localities represent a fully 

developed adaptation to the forested environment along the major watercourses of the Plains. 

As Wedel (1940:319-320) observed: 

The basic elements were carried in virtually full blown from 

an older cultural environment. Just where we should look 

for the source of specific items is not clear, but the general 

direction indicated is probably the southeast and east. 

A gradual south to north radiation would offer 

little difficulty, for, as Wedel (1934:141) points 

out: 

From the Arkansas river in southern Kansas to the Niobrara 

in northern Nebraska the stream valleys apparently formed 

the rungs of a ladder, so to speak, up which village movements and tribal migrations could easily have proceeded. 

This comparative ease of movement doubtless accounts at 

least in part for the widespread occurrence of certain cultures. 

This concept has subsequently been explored by 

several researchers (Brown, 1967; Wedel, 1959; 

Wood, 1969). Suggested antecedents for the Central Plains tradition include the Steed-Kisker site 

in the Kansas City area and the Smoky Hill sites 

in Kansas. Current radiocarbon evidence (Roper, 

1976) suggests that neither of these sites is sufficiently early to clearly qualify as an antecedent. 

An examination of this postulated northward 

expansion constituted the thrust of the trendsurface analysis of radiocarbon dates from the 

Central Plains sites conducted by Roper (1976). 

She analyzed a series of 112 radiocarbon dates 

from 58 sites within the Central Plains area and 

successfully demonstrated the chronological feasibility of the proposed sequence of settlement. 

Problems with the chronological placement of 

Solomon River Upper Republican and Smoky 

Hill sites were noted. "The presence of dates 

earlier than predicted for the Solomon River 

phase could, however, place that phase more 

clearly contemporary with all of Smoky Hill" 

(Roper, 1976:187-188). In spite of the uncertain 

radiocarbon dates associated with the Smoky 

Hill/Solomon River localities, the predicted 

south-to-north trend was generally supported. In 

terms of the Glenwood locality, Roper's trendsurface analysis placed a time line through this 

area at about A.D. 1200 (Roper, 1976:187). The 

temporal range of the Nebraska phase was defined by 33 radiocarbon dates, including four 

from three lodges in the Glenwood locality. 

Although the Glenwood lodges were the first 

to be described in the literature, the lack of 

published reports, when compared to Nebraska 

and Kansas, has relegated the Iowa locality to a 

general position of obscurity. Following Orr's 

1938 excavations, unpublished until 1963, no further work was conducted at Glenwood until the 

1950s. Subsequently, a number of descriptive reports have been published (e.g., Hotopp, 

1978a: 14-30). Current research, based on a recently expanded data base, reexamines many of 

the traditional problems identified in other localities of the Central Plains tradition regarding 

temporal span, structures, and settlement pattern, 

as well as ecological questions. 

The present study focuses on locality-specific 

questions and draws upon models developed from 

the Glenwood locality, as well as other localities 

in the Central Plains, as primary sources of comparative material and hypotheses to be tested. 

Because the study is based upon lodges from the 

Glenwood area, the Willey and Phillips (1958:18) 

definition of a locality is accepted as the most 

useful unit of analysis: 

A locality is a slightly larger spatial unit [than a site] varying 

in size from a single site to a district of uncertain dimensions; 

it is generally not larger than the space that might be 

occupied by a single community or a local group ... . In 

strictly archaeological terms, the locality is a geographical 

space small enough to permit the working assumption of 

complete cultural homogeneity at any given time. 

The conceptualization of the locality as the 

primary unit of analysis offers several positive 

advantages. Due to the lack of comparable data 

sets throughout the range of the Central Plains 

tradition, large-scale synthetic studies have been 

relatively unsuccessful to date. The lack of reports 

of collections already assembled (combined with 

the limited digging of widely scattered sites 

(Wedel, 1959:558) and excavations dictated by 
176 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

the requirements of particular construction projects) have produced data sets that vary both in 

quantity and quality. The shift of focus from 

tradition to locality-specific studies emphasizing 

the cultural and ecological setting obviates, to 

some extent, many of the problems involved in 

the broader synthetic approaches. 

A second important advantage of establishing 

the locality as the primary unit of analysis lies in 

the researcher's detailed familiarity with previous 

work conducted in a given area, which expedites 

the process of reassessing and refining earlier 

research. Virtually every locality of the Central 

Plains has a long history of excavations and excavators, and uncritical acceptance of early work 

can provide misleading results. For example, in 

the 1930s, Ellison Orr identified some of the 

lodges in the Glenwood locality as circular rather 

than square in outline. Since all of the lodges 

visited by the early explorers in the Missouri 

valley were circular in form, the presence of circular lodges in Glenwood, in addition to the 

traditional square form, would provide strong 

support for a lengthy sequence of occupation. In 

discussing the archeological evidence for changes 

in lodge form, Wedel (1934:174) observed: 

In the Pawnee area of Nebraska, archaeological research has 

shown that this form [circular lodges] characterizes protohistoric and historic sites. Rectangular lodge remains have 

not been found to date in any but prehistoric villages. That 

the two types are fundamentally related there seems to be 

very little doubt ... . Occasionally, as at Sweetwater in the 

South Loup drainage, the two are found together, suggesting 

a gradual transition from the earlier rectangular to the later 

historic circular type. 

The circular lodges reported by Orr in Glenwood 

were noted by Ives (1955:2) and Anderson 

(1961:18) and were included as part of the inventory of Nebraska phase lodges in an early draft of 

Blakeslee and Caldwell's (1979) publication. An 

analysis of unpublished correspondence (Hotopp, 

1978a: 104-110, 1978b: 123-128) demonstrated 

that the reported circular lodge form at Glenwood 

was due to excavation errors by Orr rather than 

to a valid type for the locality. Once an erroneous 

interpretation becomes part of the literature, 

however, its uncritical acceptance perpetuates 

problems in future analysis. Correcting and refining can best be conducted by researchers who are 

intimately familiar with the history of previous 

work in a locality. 

Finally, focusing on small scale locality-specific 

problems promotes a better understanding of cultural processes and intralocality variability. As 

studies of locality-specific questions are completed, the results can be translated into hypotheses to be tested in other localities. This type 

of study requires a substantial commitment of 

time and resources by investigators. Ideally, the 

results of working from the particular to the 

general will result in a deeper understanding of 

the ecological and cultural adaptations of this 

prehistoric culture. 

The Glenwood Locality 

As defined by Anderson (1961:4), the Glenwood locality extends approximately 4 miles (6.4 

km) into the loess bluffs and about 9 miles (14.5 

km) along the Missouri River in Mills County, 

Iowa. Mills County is bounded on the west by 

the Missouri River, where the floodplain is currently about 4 miles (6.4 km) wide on the Iowa 

side. The floodplain terminates in a series of 

abruptly rising loess bluffs that are extensively 

dissected by erosion. In his description of the 

geology of Mills and Fremont counties, Udden 

(1902:167-168) noted the distinctive character of 

the bluffs contiguous with the Missouri River 

floodplain: 

The average thickness of the loess is estimated at about sixty 

feet [18 m], but in the bluffs of the Missouri River and for 

two miles east [3.2 km], it frequently attains a thickness of a 

hundred feet [30 m] and is occasionally 150 feet [45.7 km]. 

This marked thickening causes an ill defined ridge along the 

west border of the uplands in some places but it has been so 

greatly affected by erosion that it now exists merely as a 

skeleton of divides among labyrinths of gullies and ravines. 

The majority of earth lodges in the Glenwood 

locality are situated along two southwesterly flowing drainages and their tributaries (Figure 29). 

The westernmost watershed is Pony Creek, which 

drains a 15.9-square-mile (41-km^) area with an 

average floodplain of approximately 200 feet (61 
NUMBER 30 177 

N 

SELECTED 

ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES 

GLENWOOD LOCALITY 

HULLS COUNTY, IOWA 

FIGURE 29.—Distribution of lodges in the Glenwood locality. Mills County, Iowa. 

m) (Larimer, 1957:289). Pony Creek flows into 

Keg Creek on the Missouri floodplain. The Keg 

Creek watershed is more substantial, draining a 

190-square-mile (492-km^) area of Mills County 

with a floodplain averaging six-tenths of a mile 

(966 m) (Larimer, 1957:289). The well-developed 

terraces of Keg Creek appear to offer a more 

desirable location for lodges, but the majority of 

lodge sites are concentrated adjacent to Pony 

Creek. Lodges are also reported at the mouths of 

small east-west hollows, exiting directly onto the 

floodplain of the Missouri (Anderson, 1961:54; 

Proudfit, 1881b:273). 

The Glenwood locality therefore conforms to 

the "small space" requirements of the locality as 

defined by Willey and Phillips, and is substantially more limited in area than the distribution 

of Central Plains sites in Iowa postulated by 

Keyes (1951). Keyes estimated that Central 

Plains materials extended 100 miles (161 km) 

along the western border of Iowa, from the Missouri state line north to mid-Monona County. 

"Apparently a walk of thirty minutes, or less, 

from any one of these houses would have brought 

an occupant to a full view of the six-mile-wide 

flood plain of the Missouri River" (Keyes, 

1951:340). 

Keyes' predicted distribution of lodges has not 

been demonstrated, however. The lack of supporting evidence for an extensive distribution of 

localities on the Iowa side of the Missouri River 

is perplexing when compared to the distribution 

demonstrated by Paul Cooper's 1938 fieldwork 

(1939:151) in eastern Nebraska: 

The cultural traits manifested by the villages in this region 

north of Omaha are very similar to those of sites farther to 

the south, and are unquestionably referable also to the 

Nebraska Culture. This manifestation is thus demonstrated 

as having a wide distribution in eastern Nebraska, extending 

along the entire eastern border of the state and for an 

uncertain distance to the west. 

Keyes' estimated extent of Nebraska sites in Iowa 

was based on surface collections from several 

counties along the bluffs. As intensive surveys are 

conducted north of Mills County, it is possible 

that additional Nebraska phase lodges will be 

located. The potential for finding another locality 

on the Iowa side comparable to Glenwood, how-
178 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ever, appears to be low in light of the extensive 

amateur and professional work conducted in 

western Iowa to date. 

Currently, no earth lodge sites are known north 

of the Kullbom Village (13 MLIO) (Figure 29). 

In an intensive survey of the Waubonsie watershed, located approximately 9 miles (14.5 km) 

south of Glenwood and in a similar environmental setting, only one cluster of three earth lodges 

was found (Hotopp, Rhodes, and Semken, 1975). 

The failure to locate more lodges in an ecologically similar environment strongly supports Anderson's (1961) restricted spatial definition of the 

Glenwood locality. 

One explanation for the restricted distribution 

of lodges on the Iowa side of the Missouri River 

may lie in the limited timber resources available 

further upstream. Pierre Tabeau's narrative of 

Loisel's 1803-1805 expedition describes a change 

in the vegetation north of the Platte River (Abel, 

1939:66): "The two banks of the Missouri are 

well wooded as far as the approaches to the River 

Platte ... . Then vast and high prairies, separated 

from the river by low and humid plains, present 

to the eye a monotonous expanse." In a later 

passage, Tabeau reiterates the point (Abel, 

1939:69) that "the Missouri, at least from the 

River Platte almost up to the Ricaras [probably 

near the Grand River in South Dakota], cannot 

be suitable for a large settlement and that the 

lack of wood alone would be more and more an 

insuperable obstacle." Tabeau's comments about 

the Indian's dependence on wood is particularly 

applicable to sedentary and semi-sedentary societies. 

In a paper by Griffin (1976:35), timber was 

identified as the most critical resource and the 

one most exploited by a population: 

Timber was necessary for building and maintaining earthlodges, for other structures external to these dwellings, and 

was necessary for cooking, heating, and such manufacturing 

techniques as firing pottery. 

The large quantity of timber required in lodge 

construction was demonstrated by Scullin, who 

reconstructed a Hidatsa lodge as a bicentennial 

project following plans drawn by Wilson (1934). 

Scullin's project involved the construction of a 

full-scale replica of one lodge, the entryway of a 

second, and roughly 100 feet (30.5 m) of palisade. 

When completed, approximately 1000 logs were 

used, ranging from 8 to 14 feet (2.4 to 4.3 m) in 

length and 4 to 14 inches (10 to 36 cm) in 

diameter (Scullin, in litt., 1977). 

Timber availability and distribution should 

closely correlate with the observed settlement pattern in a locality. The majority of the lodges in 

the Glenwood area are located adjacent to Pony 

Creek. A second concentration of lodges is located 

in the vicinity of Horse Creek, a tributary to Keg 

Creek. Both the Pony and Horse Creek watersheds consist of small, highly dissected valleys. 

The locations of numerous lodges in these watersheds indicates that they were well timbered 

at the time of occupation. Orr's (1963, 10:4) 

comments are pertinent. 

According to the evidence of the oldest settlers now living, 

all the rough areas of the Missouri, with the exception of the 

sharp crests of the divides near, and steep bluff sides facing, 

the river, was well, sometimes heavily, timbered. East of the 

river the rough country merged rapidly into rolling upland, 

mostly prairie ... . 

One WPA project in the 1930s was the compilation of the original land survey notes, dating 

from the establishment of township and section 

lines throughout the Iowa territory, and reconstruction of the forest cover in Iowa as described 

in these notes. The resulting forest cover map for 

Mills County (Figure 30) clearly illustrates a belt 

of timber transecting Pony and Keg Creek watersheds. This timbered area closely agrees with 

the known distribution of lodges (Figure 29). At 

the time of the Central Plains occupation, approximately A.D. 1050-1250, the forest cover probably was slightly denser, especially along the ridge 

tops on both sides of Pony Creek northward to 

the forks of the creek. This interpretation is based 

upon the number of lodges bordering the stream, 

both on the footslope-terrace contact and on the 

adjacent ridge spurs. The only lodge-remains 

north of the fork of Pony Creek are situated along 

the tributary nearest the Missouri River valley. 

The bluffline adjacent to the Missouri floodplain 
NUMBER 30 179 

FIGURE 30.—Forest cover in the Glenwood locality (black 

areas represent forest identified during 1850s land surveys; 

dotted line represents the approximate bluff line; dashed 

line defines Mills County, Iowa; source: WPA, c. 1930). 

was probably largely prairie, as observed by Orr 

(1963) and Tabeau (Abel, 1939), with pockets of 

timber marking the hollows eastward into the 

bluffs. Based on the WPA forest cover map, the 

wide, gentle terraces of the Keg Creek watershed 

upstream from Glenwood were probably prairie 

covered. Because of the lack of timber and the 

open, unprotected character, the gentle slopes 

were apparently avoided as lodge sites. 

In his discussion of the Upper Republican villages, based on extensive excavations at Medicine 

Creek, Wedel (1959:558) notes a similar situation. 

There appears to be a marked preference for residence on 

small streams, perhaps because suitable building timber may 

have been more abundant here than on the main rivers, as 

seems to have been the case in the 19th century. 

Central Plains Settlement Patterns 

Studies of the Nebraska phase settlement patterns and lodge variability have been seriously 

compromised by two continuing problems: incomplete excavations of sites and a serious backlog of unreported fieldwork. In regard to the first 

problem, the majority of the published comparative studies primarily represent minimal excavations from widely scattered sites. Sampling of 

one or two lodges from a site is a common survey 

method and may not be representative of the 

range of variability that may be present in a 

particular locality. The necessarily incomplete 

nature of partial site excavations may result in 

distortions of the settlement pattern. 

For example, in a review of settlement patterns 

in the Central Plains, Gradwohl (1969:135) suggested that sampling localities has resulted in a 

built-in bias toward a dispersed community pattern. He argued that conceptualizing site units by 

individual house depressions, and excavating only 

these features without testing the areas lacking 

surface indications, has resulted in an apparent 

settlement pattern of either isolated lodges, linear 

strings, or small clusters of two to four lodges. 

Gradwohl stated that more nucleated villages are 

found in the Central Plains tradition, based upon 

excavations conducted at the Theodore Davis site 

in the Weeping Water locality of Nebraska. At 

this site, six lodge depressions were observed on 

the surface. Four were excavated, yielding typical 

square earth lodges. Rather than excavate the 

remaining two lodge depressions, a series of tests 

were conducted in the areas between the lodge 

depressions, resulting in the location of two additional lodges with no surface indication. Gradwohl assumed that these "buried" lodges were 

contemporaneous with the six lodges noted from 

the surface depressions and that the site actually 

was a small nucleated village. However, the floor 

area of the lodges found in the depressions (420 

to 1156 square feet or 39 to 107 m^) was two to 

five times the floor area of the buried lodges (196 

to 213 square feet or 18 to 20 m^). The six lodge 

depressions could alternately be interpreted as 

representing the terminal occupation of the site, 

and the buried lodges might date from an earlier 

occupation. Regardless of the correctness of either 

interpretation, the presence of additional lodges 

with no surface indication clearly illustrates the 

magnitude of the problem for settlement pattern 

studies. 

Closely related to this problem is the continued 

obliteration of surface indications of lodges. None 

of the lodges located by Brown (1967) in the Pony 

Creek watershed were visible on the surface. 

Many lodges located at the footslope bottomland 

contact were found only because erosion associ-
180 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ated with plowing finally exposed the hearth. No 

depressions were located by Anderson for the 

three lodges that he excavated in 1969-1970, or 

by the author for the fourteen complete and 

partial houses excavated within the Highway 34 

corridor during 1971-1973. The destruction of 

surficial evidence of lodges is frustrating for two 

reasons: (1) the requirements of settlement pattern studies are totally dependent on an accurate 

knowledge of lodge placement and distribution, 

and (2) only large-scale construction projects permit the extensive testing required to locate lodges 

and determine variations in settlement distribution. 

The second problem involves the substantial 

body of excavated material from Central Plains 

sites that is either not analyzed or only reported 

in summary fashion. Information from these collections is urgently needed to fill the gaps in our 

understanding of the culture history of the Central Plains tradition. Many of the undescribed 

collections represent substantial excavations from 

particular localities. As Wedel (1959:558) observed: 

Much more comprehensive in scope were the still unreported 

operations of the Nebraska State Historical Society and 

Works Progress Administration in 1939 at Site 25HW6 on 

Davis Creek, in Howard County, Nebr., where 21 house sites 

were opened; and the 1948 investigations of the River Basin 

Surveys (Kivett, 1949) and of the Nebraska Historical Society (Wedel, 1953b [sic], pp. 12-18, 41-42) at Medicine Creek 

reservoir area. 

Almost 20 years later, in an obituary for his friend 

and co-worker, George Metcalf, Wedel (1978:5) 

stated that 

he [Metcalf] was engaged before and after his retirement in 

the analysis and writing up of great masses of unpublished 

WPA materials from Davis Creek and was optimistically 

planning research on the extensive River Basin Surveys 

collections from Medicine Creek. These two Nebraska projects would have provided many times more systematically 

gathered information than is currently available on the 

Upper Republican or, indeed, on any taxonomically sanctified Central Plains Tradition complex west of the Missouri. 

Central Plains collections, such as these, are located in every state in the Plains area. McKusick 

(1964:175) points out that the collections from 

Orr's 1938 excavations in Iowa were virtually 

ignored until Anderson's 1961 study. The continuing problem of backlogged collections contributes 

to the incomplete nature of the data base, upon 

which settlement pattern studies are dependent. 

The generally accepted view of the settlement 

patterns for the Central Plains tradition was summarized by Wedel (1961:95): 

Villages show little or no evidence of planning. In the 

Nebraska culture they consisted of house units strung irregularly along the tops of ridges and bluffs; others may have 

been scattered on lower terraces, where their arrangement is 

now obscured by slope wash or other factors. Upper Republican villages, like many of those in the Lower Kansas River 

drainage, were generally on creek terraces, where the topography permitted more latitude in the disposition of the 

lodges. Typically, they consisted of single houses, randomly 

scattered at intervals of a few yards to several hundred feet, 

or of clusters of two to four lodges, similarly separated from 

other small clusters or single units. 

Wedel's summary view clearly recognizes that the 

topographic setting provides an important constraint on the placement of lodges within the 

Nebraska phase. The rugged, dissected character 

of the loess bluffs adjacent to the Missouri trench 

and their relationships to lodge placement has 

been considered by several researchers working in 

this area. 

Summarizing his excavations in eastern Nebraska, an area very similar to Glenwood, Sterns 

(1915:191-203) observed the following: 

The depressions or ''circles" are usually located on the 

steep loess ridges along the river courses. One important 

group is located on the second bottom of the Missouri... . 

The sites on the ridges are not always on the highest part, 

but often on a point, away from which the hill falls off 

rapidly in three directions. Wherever possible, the "circles" 

occur in little knolls from which water will drain in every 

direction. 

These sites are usually near the flood plain of the Missouri, 

being often on the first or second bluffs of that river. The 

great majority of them are included in a strip a mile wide 

along the bottom of the river. 

. . . Altho the "circles" are the remains of ancient lodge 

sites, they are not* arranged in village groups. Some are 

isolated as much as a half a mile from any other site. When 

they are near each other, they are often merely spread out in 

The word "not" is handwritten in the dissertation. 
NUMBER 30 181 

a long line along the ridge. Even when they are located on 

the broad flat second bottom of the Missouri, the long line 

is retained. 

The theme of lodge placement and topography 

was reiterated by Cooper and Bell (1936:20-21) 

in their description of the Weisman site. 

Of the thirty-one house depressions located, all but two 

are scattered along a single ridge for a distance of approximately 1,700 feet [518 m], in three fairly distinct groups ... . 

While there seems to be some tendency toward a linear 

arrangment of the houses, this is probably largely dictated 

by the characteristics of the terrain upon which they are 

constructed. 

This brief summary of comments by archeologists investigating various localities of the Central 

Plains tradition suggests that the topography of 

the general area selected for settlement strongly 

influenced the placement of the lodges. With 

these observations from other localities of the 

Central Plains as a baseline for comparison, a 

brief review of the observations of the investigators in the Glenwood locality follows. 

Settlement Variations in Glenwood 

The surveys of both Proudfit (1881b) and Orr 

(1963) located the majority of the lodge depressions along the ridge tops overlooking the Pony 

Creek valley. Only two lodges were located north 

of Glenwood on Keg Creek by Proudfit (1881b) 

and Dean (1883), and the lodges located east of 

Keg Creek were confined mainly to the Horse 

Creek area. Based on his surveys and excavations, 

Proudfit (1881b:273) concluded: "A single lodge 

is the exception—a group the rule." Substantial 

development of the Mills County road system, 

residential and commercial construction, and 

continued farming had undoubtedly obliterated 

many of the house depressions in the 58-year 

interval between Proudfit's and Orr's surveys. As 

early as 1880, Dean (1883) noted that the depressions marking the Allis Village were becoming 

difficult to see because of filling associated with 

farming. To partially offset this problem, Orr 

searched out older residents of the area who 

provided locational information for a number of 

lodges that were no longer visible on the surface. 

After his 1938 field season, Orr (1963, 10:5) challenged the settlement pattern reported by Proudfit. 

Our survey finds the opposite of this is true. Forty-seven of 

the sixty-eight located by us, separated by distances of over 

half a mile, must certainly be considered singles. 

Doubtless a number of sites have quite certainly been 

obliterated by cultivation or have left no traces of their 

location, but just as certainly by no means enough to make 

every single location by us one of a group the others of which 

have disappeared. 

The pattern of lodge distribution was summarized by Orr (1963, 10:4). 

The earth lodge[s] . . . are found chiefly on the higher and 

wider parts of the crests of the divides, at the general upland 

level, and with two exceptions [probably the Allis village 

and house site 36], somewhat back—one-fourth mile—from 

the edge of the bluff line facing the river bottoms. 

Of the sixty-eight sites . . . fifty-five are so situated, seven 

are on small level benches or terraces on sloping points of 

spurs of the upland, and the remaining six at or about where 

the slope of the bluff and the bottom land meets. 

At no place are they in close enough proximity or in 

numbers sufficient, to be considered a village. 

An opportunity to test for lodges and associated 

external features in a transect through both the 

Pony and Keg Creek watersheds was provided by 

the extensive right-of-way requirements for the 

Highway 34 relocation project. All 17 lodges 

excavated within the right-of-way were located 

with power equipment. Extensive testing between 

the lodges and monitoring during contruction 

failed to locate additional "buried" lodges, and 

only one external cache was found in association 

with a lodge (Hotopp, 1978a: 76-83). Based on 

the work conducted in the Glenwood locality by 

Anderson (1961), Brown (1967), and Hotopp 

(1978a), the settlement patterns identified by 

both Proudfit (1881b) (consisting of groups of 

lodges) and Orr (1963) (identified by isolated 

lodges) have been supported. By far, the most 

common settlement patterns is that of houses 

located in a linear arrangement along a ridge 

spur or at the footslope contact, a pattern indistinguishable from that reported by Cooper and 

Bell (1936), Sterns (1915), and Wedel (1961). 
182 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

The preference for the more rugged topography of the Pony and Horse Creek areas, in addition to acting as a constraint on lodge placement, 

appears to have also determined the size and 

orientation of lodges. An assessment of lodge size 

and landscape position (Table 3) clearly reveals 

that where large lodges of over 700 square feet 

(65 m^) in floor area are found, the topographic 

setting is favorable, i.e., large, well-developed, 

gently sloping terraces, wide ridge tops, or gently 

TABLE 3.—Lodge dimensions and landscape positions of sites at the Glenwood locality 

Watershed and 

site number 

PONY CREEK 

13ML119 

13ML124 

13ML126 

13ML136 

13ML139 

13ML145 

13ML205^ 

13ML206^ 

13ML216" 

13ML218" 

13ML219(1) 

13ML219(2) 

13ML222' 

HSJ 

HSM 

HSN 

HSO 

HSX'' 

HSXIO 

HSXl l 

HSX15 

HSX16 

KULLBOM 

13ML10(1) 

13ML10(2) 

13ML10(4) 

K EG CREEK 

13ML121 

13ML128 

13ML129 

13ML130 

HORSE CREEK 

13ML134 

13ML135 

13ML155 

Lodge dimensions 

(ft) 

19 X 19 

24.5 X 25 

24 X 25 

24 X 25 

21.5 X 22.5 

17.5 X 18.5 

25 X 20 

20 X 20 

17.5 X 17.5 

26 X 25 

30 X 30 

36 X 36 

25 X 24 

18 X 20 

24 X 24 

27 X 28 

20 X 25 

34 X 34 

31 X 31 

31 X 31 

36 X 36 

24 X 24 

24 X 21 

25 X 28 

25 X 25 

19 X 19 

32 X 33 

30 X 32 

43 X 43 

24 X 24 

21.5 X 23 

23 X 22 

(sq ft) 

361 

613 

600 

600 

484 

324 

500 

400 

306 

650 

900 

1296 

600 

360 

576 

756 

500 

1156 

961 

961 

1296 

576 

504 

700 

625 

361 

1056 

960 

1849 

576 

495 

506 

Landscape 

position 

Footslope 

Terrace 

Backslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Backslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Terrace 

Backslope 

Backslope 

Terrace 

Backslope 

Backslope 

Backslope 

Backslope 

Summit 

Summit 

Summit 

Summit 

Backslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Terrace 

Terrace 

Terrace 

Footslope 

Footslope 

Backslope 

Source 

Anderson, 1973 

Anderson, 1973 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Brown, 1967 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Orr, 1963 

Anderson, 1961 

Anderson, 1961 

Anderson, 1961 

Anderson, 1973 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

Hotopp, 1978a 

" Partial house, length estimated. 

On divide between Pony and Keg creeks. 
NUMBER 30 183 

sloping ridge spurs. The smaller, more common 

lodges of less than 700 square feet (65 m^) are 

almost always constrained by their topographic 

setting. These lodges are most commonly located 

on steeper slopes or narrow ridge spurs, which 

would have required massive excavations for a 

larger lodge. The houses were oriented with the 

entryway opening downslope and the rear walls 

parallel with the hill slope. Only one lodge 

(HS J) has been reported on a north-facing bluff 

slope (Orr, 1963, 10:89-90) and the entryway to 

this lodge was not located. 

Two clusters of lodges are known from Glenwood. In an 1883 report, Dean illustrated the 

Allis Village, which consisted of five lodge depressions located on a bluff slope overlooking the 

Kullbom valley. A similar cluster of five lodges 

was located by the author on a ridge slope overlooking Horse Creek (Hotopp, 19 78a: 66, 84). 

The preference for east, west, and south facing 

slopes and the practice of locating entryways on 

the downslope side of the lodges in the Glenwood 

locality supports the conclusions reached by 

Sterns (1915:201) for the Nebraska lodges he 

excavated in a similar environmental setting: 

Three of them were a few degrees south of east in their 

direction while a fourth was southwest. Six in which the 

entrance passage could be located without excavation had 

them running approximately south. The direction apparently was determined entirely by the slope of the hill ... . 

In their assessment of the Nebraska phase, Blakeslee and Caldwell (1979:44) note: 

Entryways are oriented to all points of the compass, but 

there is a very strong tendency to southerly directions.... 

The southerly orientation of the entryways can probably be 

attributed to the strong northerly winter winds common in 

the region. 

Within the Glenwood locality, lodges under 

700 square feet (65 m^) in floor area are found 

most frequently in close association with one 

another. Houses with larger floor areas are commonly isolated from one another by distances 

ranging from several hundred feet to one-half 

mile. The clustering of smaller lodges and the 

isolation of larger lodges in the Glenwood locality 

is virtually indistinguishable from that reported 

for the Nebraska phase by Blakeslee and Caldwell 

(1979:109): 

Both single lodges and villages occur throughout the 

lifetime of the phase ... . [Tjhere seems to be a dual settlement pattern for the Nebraska Phase although the functional 

differences between the two types of site is [sic] not yet 

understood. The fact that the single lodges are considerably 

larger than those in the villages suggests that the composition 

of households in the two kinds of settlement were [sic] 

different. 

Central Plains Tradition Settlement Models 

The bifurcated settlement pattern observed 

within many of the localities on the Central Plains 

has been the subject of a number of theoretical 

reconstructions. One popular model, developed 

by Krause (1969, 1970), incorporates a sequential 

settlement configuration spanning approximately 

600 years from the ninth to the fifteenth centuries. 

Krause developed the model from his research in 

the Glen Elder locality on the Solomon River in 

north-central Kansas. Briefly, Krause argued that 

the larger earth lodges (between 500 and 1050 

square feet in floor area, or 46.4 and 97.5 m^) 

were found in hamlets situated on prominent 

terraces of the Solomon River, and represented 

the initial settlement. After about 400 years, these 

hamlets were abandoned, and presumably the 

occupants shifted to smaller, lightly built, isolated 

lodges (between 144 and 225 square feet in floor 

area, or 13.4 and 20.9 m^), located on the timbered banks of a feeder creek. The shift in settlement was viewed as a response to a change in 

climate occurring around A.D. 1250, which affected cultivation, hunting, and collecting. According to Baerreis and Bryson (1965), the climatic shift to cooler, drier conditions would have 

reduced agricultural productivity and encouraged population dispersal. Krause (1970:108) 

supported this sequence with a series of seven 

radiocarbon dates from the hamlets and an observed trend in the ceramics. 

This model has been widely cited by archeologists working with Central Plains sites. For example, Johnson (1973) employed this model as 

an explanatory device in interpreting a bimodal 
184 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

distribution that he observed when he plotted 

lodge floor areas for 54 Central Plains houses. 

The distribution revealed one group of lodges 

clustering between 100 and 700 square feet in 

floor area (9.3 and 65 m^) with another group 

ranging between 900 and 1700 square feet (84 

and 158 m^). Johnson interpreted this bimodal 

pattern as reflecting the onset of drought conditions beginning around A.D. 1200, which resulted 

in a shift from large lodges in hamlets to small 

isolated lodges as proposed by Krause. If Krause 

and Johnson are correct in their interpretations, 

then, larger lodges (over 900 square feet or 84 m^) 

will date earlier than the smaller lodges (under 

700 square feet or 65 m^). 

The Krause model was applied to the Glenwood locality by Anderson and Zimmerman 

(1976), and was later incorporated into a computer-simulated settlement study by Zimmerman 

(1977). Anderson and Zimmerman approached 

the question of settlement pattern variability in 

the Glenwood locality by developing a culturalecological model to explain the diversity in lodge 

size and placement. Essentially, this model was 

based on a hypothesized 400-year occupation of 

the locality, occurring between A.D. 900 and 1300. 

Changes in settlement pattern were viewed as 

responses to a shift to drier conditions around A.D. 

1150 to 1250, which would have resulted in the 

expansion of the prairies and the reduction of the 

woodlands (Anderson and Zimmerman, 1976: 

152). A number of adjustments to this climatic 

shift by the inhabitants was suggested. Of particular interest to this study are the hypothesized 

climatically induced changes in subsistence systems, resulting in a modification of artifact assemblages from the more recent lodges, and a relocation of the population from lodges on the ridgetops to houses located at the hillslope-bottomland contact. Relocation from the ridgetops to 

the valley floors was viewed as a necessary response to generally drier conditions, because diminished rainfall would render ridgeline horticulture impracticable. Additional hypotheses 

were proposed, ranging from siting and orientation of the lodges to proposed kinship organization (Anderson and Zimmerman, 1976:153): 

We regard the known house distribution as the reflection of 

one dispersed community layout. This community may have 

occupied the locality for several hundred years. What appears to be house clusters may be no more than the remains 

of serially constructed dwellings of one lineage, occupying 

the same topographic location through time. Each house 

might be home for an extended family unit, cooperating and 

interacting with other families as custom and need dictated. 

The Anderson and Zimmerman model clearly 

is concerned with the same questions examined 

by Krause (1969, 1970), but the conclusions regarding changes in settlement patterns through 

time are directly opposite. Anderson and Zimmerman view the chronological development of 

the Glenwood locality as represented by early 

settlement in small isolated households located on 

the ridgetops; only later did the inhabitants aggregate into hamlets in the bottomlands as a 

response to a deteriorating climate. In establishing the variables for his 1977 study, Zimmerman 

(1977:75) defined the usual size of the dispersed 

isolated houses on the ridgetops as "under 400 

square feet [37 m^] in area, whereas the clustered 

lodges range from 400 to a reported 1600 square 

feet [148.6 m^]." 

All three of the models postulate a long-term 

developmental sequence of occupation in the localities with changes in settlement pattern responding to the onset of the Pacific (A.D. 1250-

1450), when diminishing summer rainfall rendered corn farming difficult if not impossible in 

the Central Plains. In response to these conditions, either the large farming hamlets disbanded 

(Krause, 1970:112), or the small lodges on ridgelines were abandoned and people clustered into 

large hamlets (Anderson and Zimmerman, 

1976:151; Zimmerman, 1977:74). 

The data from the Glen Elder locality cited by 

Krause (1969, 1970) in support of his model were 

systematically studied by Lippincott (1976). 

Based on the radiocarbon data supplied by Lippincott (1976:115a), the radiocarbon dates cited 

but not presented by Krause (1969:89; 1970:108) 

are not supportive of the postulated developmental sequence: the range for farming hamlets 

is from A.D. 1090±80 to 1340±100, while the 

range for small isolated households and seasonal 
NUMBER 30 185 

hunting and fishing camps is from A.D. 810±10 0 

to 1495±90. Further, the lodge floor area of the 

six Glen Elder houses excavated by Krause (Lippincott, 1976:118a) averages 732 square feet (68 

m^) and ranges from 482 to 909 square feet (45 

to 84 m^), slightly more than twice the maximum 

size cited by Krause for isolated households (i.e., 

144 to 225 square feet, or 13 to 21 m^) in floor 

area. The increased size brings the lodges more in 

line with the range of Central Plains lodges 

known from other areas, and corresponds to 

Wedel's (1970:18) comment regarding the exceptionally small lodges described by Krause in his 

model: "I have the impression that houses as 

small as those of the second Solomon River settlement type are not characteristic of the Nebraska Upper Republican communities as these 

are now known where large scale excavations 

have been carried out." As a result of his research, 

Lippincott (1978:87) concluded: 

A realistic interpretation of both radiocarbon and seriation 

information would be to split the occupation of the Solomon 

River locality into a period of relatively intense occupation 

from A.D. 800-850 through A.D. 1200-1250 and a period of 

drastic reduction of occupation density after 1200-1250. 

Systematic analysis of the Glen Elder materials 

by Lippincott clearly demonstrates that Krause's 

model was only loosely tied to the available data 

and that alternative interpretations are equally 

viable. Nevertheless, several of the hypotheses 

proposed by Krause and incorporated into subsequent models provide the basis for additional 

research. All of the examined models assume 

continuous occupation of a locality for a substantial time period, usually 400 years (A.D. 900-

1300). This span of occupation is established from 

a few radiocarbon dates. A shift in occupation 

from large lodges in hamlets to small isolated 

lodges or some variation is also a common theme 

of the models. Generally, all of the proposed 

models have been handicapped by the paucity of 

available radiocarbon dates from the localities. 

For example, when Roper (1976) prepared her 

radiocarbon study for the Central Plains, only 33 

dates were available for the entire Nebraska 

phase. 

Forty-one radiocarbon dates have been obtained for the Glenwood locality, and these dates 

provide the basis for several observations regarding radiocarbon samples, time, span of occupation, and the relationships of large and small 

lodges in Glenwood. 

The Glenwood Temporal Sequence 

In developing their model of the Glenwood 

settlement sequence, Anderson and Zimmerman 

(1976) estimated a span of occupation based upon 

10 radiocarbon dates ranging from A.D. 430±10 0 

to 1280±70. Six of the samples were paired and 

represented three lodges. Gross intralodge differences between radiocarbon dates seriously compromised the reliability of these paired samples 

as accurate temporal indicators. For example, two 

dates from 13ML119, a Pony Creek lodge, were 

both early (A.D. 885±10 5 and 920±130) and consistent. But the dates from 13ML121, a Keg Creek 

house, were A.D. 870±9 5 and 1260±100, a difference of 390 years, and two samples from 

13ML124 were dated A.D. 430± 100 and 1215±95. 

The inability to obtain reasonable sample agreement within a lodge seriously compromised any 

estimate of span of occupation, and established a 

clear need for carefully controlled, multiple-lodge 

samples from the locality. 

As a direct result of the Highway-34 excavations and the continuing research of the author, 

31 additional radiocarbon dates were obtained 

from the Glenwood locality. An initial requirement of three radiocarbon dates per lodge was 

established. Samples were selected from wall 

posts, and the charcoal was identified to genus or 

species by Dr. Dwight Bensend, Iowa State University. Every attempt was made to control possible sources of error, from the field collecting 

stage through laboratory processing. The first set 

of three dates from lodge 13ML130 was processed 

commercially and sample agreement was encouraging. The remainder of the samples was processed at the Center for Climatic Research, University of Wisconsin, Madison. 

The initial selection of charcoal from the bottom of lodge wall posts served three purposes. 

First, the relatively small diameter of the post 
186 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

TABLE 4.—Radiocarbon dates for sites at the Glenwood locality 

Watershed and 

site number 

PONY CREEK 

13ML119 

13ML124 

13ML126 

13ML136 

13ML138 

13ML139 

13ML145 

13ML216 

13ML219 (1) 

13ML219 (2) 

13ML222 

K EG CREEK 

13ML121 

13ML128 

13ML129 

13ML130 

HORSE CREEK 

13ML132 

13ML135 

13ML155 

Laboratory 

number 

OX 2003 

GX 2004 

GX 2005 

GX 2006 

Wis. 632 

Wis. 633 

Wis. 716 

Wis. 697 

Wis. 698 

Wis. 699 

Wis. 702 

Wis. 792 

Wis. 691 

Wis. 700 

Wis. 701 

Wis. 894 

Wis. 896 

Wis. 900 

SI 693 

SI 210 

SI 211 

SI 212 

GX 2007 

GX 2008 

Wis. 560 

Wis. 565 

Wis. 566 

Wis. 559 

Wis. 562 

Wis. 564 

16295 

16296 

16297 

Wis. 708 

Wis. 709 

Wis. 710 

Wis. 713 

Wis. 717 

Wis. 719 

Wis. 877 

Wis. 878 

B.P 

date 

1065±105 

103O±130 

735±95 

1520±100 

730±55 

985±45 

840±60 

875±60 

775±55 

865±55 

690±50 

1010±55 

440±45 

835±55 

850±55 

700±55 

770±60 

775±55 

750±90 

670±70 

1050±90 

740±80 

1080±95 

690±100 

820±50 

790±55 

855±55 

820±55 

765±55 

825±60 

712±90 

945±100 

765±110 

310±60 

860±55 

360±55 

860±60 

975±60 

910±60 

690±50 

705±50 

A.D. 

standard 

conversion 

885 

920 

1215 

430 

1220 

965 

1110 

1075 

1175 

1085 

1260 

940 

1510 

1115 

1100 

1250 

1180 

1195 

1200 

1280 

900 

1210 

870 

1260 

1130 

1160 

1095 

1130 

1185 

1125 

1143 

1005 

1185 

1640 

1090 

1590 

1090 

975 

1040 

1260 

1245 

Wood identification 

None 

None 

Tilia americana and Quercus alba 

Ring porous hardwood (not identified) 

Populus deltoides 

Quercus rubra 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra 

Ulmus americana 

Quercus alba 

Quercus alba 

Charred corn 

Ulmus rubra or Cellis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Populus deltoides 

Fraxinus americana 

Ulmus americana 

None 

None 

None 

None 

Carya sp. 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus americana 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Quercus alba 

Ulmus rubra or Celtis occidentalis 

Ostyra sp. 

Juglans nigra 

Comment 

Rejected 

H CL pretreatment 

only 

Rejected 

Rejected 

Rejected 

Rejected 

' Wood identifications by Dwight Bensend and Barbara Schulte, Iowa State University. 
NUMBER 30 187 

should reduce the number of radiocarbon years 

represented in the sample. Second, the increased 

depth of the post bottom from the surface should 

limit sources of contamination in the sample. 

Finally, the selection of structural members 

should guarantee contemporaneity with the 

lodge. The possibility of reuse of posts was considered, but since the majority of the lodges had 

burned, reuse was considered a lesser factor. 

All samples initially submitted were collected 

from elm/hackberry (Ulmus sp. or Celtis occidentalis) posts 20 centimeters or less in diameter. 

Elm/hackberry was selected because they are 

fast-growing trees and were well represented in 

the lodges. As confidence in the procedure was 

gained, samples from other hardwoods were 

dated. 

The series of radiocarbon dates for the Glenwood locality is presented in Table 4. Eight radiocarbon dates were earlier than A.D. 1000, and 

three were later than A.D. 1300. Three of the preA.D. 1000 dates are from lodges that also yielded 

dates in the 1200s. A single date of A.D. 900 from 

13ML219 (house 2) was rejected by Brown 

(1967:48). The dates from 13ML119 represent 

the only case of two early dates from a single 

lodge in the locality. However, a lodge with two 

dates of A.D. 1590±55 and 1640±60 (13ML132) 

also yielded a date of A.D. 1090±55 . TWO dates of 

A.D. 1100±55 and 1115±55 were obtained from 

house 13ML139 along with one late date of 

1510±45. 

In comparing the distribution of all samples 

from the Glenwood locality with the remainder 

of the Nebraska phase assembled by Roper 

(1976), the number of early dates (pre-A.D. 1000) 

from Glenwood is substantially higher. The number of early samples from the Nebraska phase, 

excluding Glenwood, represents approximately 

9% of the sample, but in Glenwood, 25% of the 

sample is earlier than A.D. 1000. Because the 

majority of the early dates from Glenwood are 

compromised by their association with later dates 

from the same lodge, sample contamination 

rather than an extended sequence of occupation 

appears to be the cause. The procedure of dating 

small diameter wall posts of rapidly growing tree 

species has probably been the major factor in the 

tighter clustering of radiocarbon dates from the 

lodges. The continuing problem of wild dates, 

however, points up the difficulty of reliance upon 

single dates in the determination of either the 

time or span of occupation for a locality. 

An inspection of the tree species represented in 

the rejected samples, where known, revealed that 

four of the samples were composed of red elm or 

hackberry. One rejected date was based on corn, 

and the remaining four were not identified. Conversely, 14 elm or hackberry samples yielded acceptable dates. It is interesting to note that two 

early dates (13ML126, A.D. 965, and 13ML135, 

A.D. 975) were from oak samples. In both instances, the samples were collected without establishing the position of the sample within the post 

and roof timber. One oak sample (13ML136, A.D. 

1175) resulted in an expected date, but in this 

case only the outer rings were represented in the 

charred post stump. As a general caveat, slowgrowing trees, such as oaks, should be dated with 

caution, especially if the location of the sample 

within the post cannot be determined at the time 

of collection. 

For the Glenwood locality, approximately 76% 

of the radiocarbon dates are within the 300-year 

time period from A.D. 1000 to A.D. 1300. Averaging the dates for each lodge (Long and Rippeteau, 

1974) serves to further compress the temporal 

range of the community (Hotopp, 1978a:206-

260). The incursion of the Nebraska phase peoples 

into southwest Iowa appears to represent a relatively short-lived phenomenon occurring between 

A.D. 1050 and A.D. 1250. The compressed span of 

occupation does not preclude local developmental 

sequences within the locality over several generations. No temporal differences were observed 

between the large and small lodges in the locality. 

Glenwood Lodge Size, Placement, 

and Population Estimates 

Lodges within the Glenwood locality tend to 

be small, with approximately 63% of the sample 
188 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

as» 

-" •' 

• 4-

3 2 

1 • M 

N » 32 

- m rl n n n n . 

1 Z 3 4 5 6 7 a 9 10 II 12 13 14 IS 16 IT 18 19 

FLOOR AREA (100 SQUARE FOOT DIVISIONS) 

FIGURE 31.—Glenwood locality lodge floor areas. 

under 650 square feet (60 m^) in floor area (Figure 

31). The lodges over 900 square feet (84 m^) are 

generally located on ridge summits and gentle 

backslopes; however, three of the larger lodges 

were situated on a large, relatively flat terrace on 

Keg Creek (Table 3, Figure 29). The upland 

placement of the majority of the lodges over 900 

square feet (84 m^) is not supportive of Zimmerman's (1977) model. 

Comparison of the Glenwood lodge floor areas 

with a general sample from the Central Plains 

compiled by Johnson (1973) and Lippincott 

(1978) indicates a partiality toward smaller lodges 

(Figure 32): 54% of the sample is less than 700 

square feet (65 m^) and 74% is less than 1000 

square feet (93 m^) in floor area. Wedel (1979), 

who subsequently expanded the lodge floor sample to 122 lodges, found that 52% of the lodges 

were under 620 square feet (58 m^) in floor area. 

The relationship of lodge floor area to house 

population formulated by NaroU (1962) and by 

Cook and Heiser (1968) was restudied by Wedel 

(1979). Wedel argued that the application of 

CENTRAL PLAINS TRADITION 

C«Mll<< by J«ka«on 1973 

N • 47 (SIMM X La<SM RamoMd ) 

SOLOHON RIVER UPPER REPUILICAN 

N- l« LIpplMOlt (a7( 

6 « 10 12 14 l« IS 20 22 24 2e 26 30 

FLOOR AREA (100 SQUARE FOOT DIVISIONS) 

FIGURE 32.—Comparison of Glenwood locality and various 

Central Plains locality lodge floor areas. 

formulas derived from ethnographic and historic 

data for widespread cultures is not in harmony 

with the information available for historic Plains 

tribes. From ethnographic accounts, Wedel demonstrated that neither Naroll's nor Cook and 

Heiser's population-estimating formulas yield the 

number of inhabitants of lodges recorded for the 

Pawnee and Wichita. As a result of his analysis, 

Wedel derived a figure of 5 square meters per 

person as more accurately reflecting known population density for Pawnee earth lodges. Application of this formula to the Glenwood lodges 

suggests either extended or multifamily occupation of the smaller (under 600 square feet, or 56 

m^) houses, rather than a nuclear family situation 

proposed by Naroll's figures. Wedel's Plains-specific formula also indicates a greater population 

density with an increased exploitation of the ecosystem for Glenwood, which is consistent with a 

model of short-term occupation of the locality. 

Conclusions and Implications for Further 

Research 

The present study focused on data gathered 

from the Glenwood locality and incorporated 

recent information gathered from the Highway 

34 relocation project. The excavations transected 

both Pony and Keg creeks and provided an intensive sampling of the Keg Creek watershed for 

the first time. Substantial right-of-way requirements allowed extensive testing around the lodge 

perimeters and between lodges to define the settlement pattern for the community. 

Distribution of the Central Plains tradition in 

Iowa was shown to be limited to the Glenwood 

area, and the general sparsity of timber northward was suggested as a possible limiting factor 

in the location of additional Central Plains localities. Availability of timber was apparently an 

important controlling factor in the selection of 

lodge sites within the locality. The majority of 

the lodges were located within the smaller watersheds with rugged topography, a factor which 

influenced lodge placement, orientation, and size. 

The development of locality-specific questions 
NUMBER 30 189 

has drawn upon models developed for Glenwood, 

as well as other localities in the Central Plains, 

for comparative materials and hypotheses to be 

tested. Difficulties inherent in models concerned 

with explaining variations in lodge sizes and settlement patterns in response to a change in climate within the Central Plains were explored. In 

addition, problems with the relationships of the 

models to the data from which they were derived 

were identified. The theoretical underpinnings of 

these models lie in a long sequence of occupation 

of a locality, with a shift in settlement pattern 

occurring in response to a climatic shift and 

archeologically reflected in differential lodge size 

and degree of aggregation. The bimodal character of Central Plains lodge floor areas first identified by Johnson (1973) for 54 Central Plains 

lodges has continued to be supported by a substantial increase in the sample size (Wedel, 1979). 

The model proposed for the Glenwood locality 

of initial settlement on the ridge tops and later 

movement to the bottom lands in response to a 

deteriorating climate was tested with the available radiocarbon evidence. This model assumes 

for Glenwood a lengthy span of occupation, beginning with small isolated lodges on the ridge 

tops and later aggregations of hamlets composed 

of larger lodges in the creek valleys. The reassessment of available radiocarbon dates and archeological evidence contradicts this model on several 

grounds. No differences can be seen in the radiocarbon dates from the large lodges (13ML128, 

13ML129, and 13ML130) and a small lodge located on the upland (13ML155). Moreover, the 

lodges associated with hamlets have been shown 

to be smaller than the isolated lodges. 

The radiocarbon evidence from Glenwood 

aptly illustrates the problems of relying on a 

single date from a lodge to establish either the 

time or duration of the occupation of a locality. 

The problem of outliers in the samples has not 

been completely eliminated in the latest series of 

dates but the application of a carefully-defined 

sampling technique has reduced the number of 

clearly erroneous dates by 50%. The source of 

error appears to be sample contamination, and 

while the exact sources of this contamination 

have not been clearly defined, the refinements in 

methodology from collecting to statistical manipulation constitute a positive step forward. 

Topography appears to constitute a significant 

factor in the selection of lodge sites. Large lodges 

are constrained in their location by the requirements for relatively level land, and in the Glenwood locality, these lodges are found mostly on 

relatively flat stream terraces and on the uplands. 

Smaller lodges are usually located in a more 

rugged setting. The bimodal curve for lodge floor 

area in the Central Plains tradition indicates that 

two variations in social aggregations occurred. 

Most of the models cited account for the variability in lodge size by placing one of the two 

modes earlier in time. The radiocarbon evidence 

strongly supports the temporal association of 

large and small lodges. The apparent bifurcation 

of the settlement is very similar to the seasonal 

cycles known for the historic farming tribes of the 

Missouri Valley. These tribes built large, frequently communal summer lodges that were 

abandoned in the winter when the tribes dispersed and occupied smaller winter lodges located 

in the timber. In discussing winter lodges among 

the Hidatsa, Wilson (1934:395) observed the following: 

In its main features the winter lodge closely resembled that 

built in the summer, though it was quite likely to be smaller 

and built with less care ... . Various reasons were given for 

building such a relatively rough structure ... . [F]or example 

. . . the lodge was abandoned at the end of the season [and] 

. . . it was liable to be burned by any passing enemy, and 

moreover, that it was quite unlikely that the same camping 

place would be occupied in successive years. The winter 

earthlodges were invariably placed close together in the 

timber ... . 

The similarities to the Glenwood settlement 

pattern are striking. However, seasonal occupation of the lodges has not yet been demonstrated. 

A factor that may have assumed considerable 

importance in encouraging a seasonal shift in 

settlement from the lowlands to the uplands in 

the summers might have been the general environment of the Missouri floodplain and, by extrapolation, the tributary creek bottoms. Orr 
190 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

(1963, 10:4) observes that "the Missouri bottoms 

in pre-historic times appear for the most part to 

have been well timbered, swampy and mosquito 

infested, with numerous lakes, parts of abandoned 

channels." 

Tabeau's description (Abel, 1939:63) of the 

hardships endured in the Missouri valley in the 

summertime is particularly vivid. 

. . . of all the inconveniences and sufferings of the voyage, 

mosquitoes should be put down as the worst, and nowhere 

can more be seen. During the whole day the boats were 

enveloped as in a cloud and the engages, who were compelled 

by the extreme heat to keep the body naked, were covered 

with blood and swellings. Often our hunters, not being able 

to endure them, returned at full speed to throw themselves 

into the boats ... . In short, the mosquitoes, not leaving the 

crew at liberty to take its food in the evening or its rest at 

night, exhausted it as much as did all the work of the day 

and they helped not a little to weaken it to the extent . . . 

there was almost never a full force. 

The high breezy bluffs and prairie covered 

terraces of Keg Creek would have provided a 

substantial measure of summer comfort for the 

inhabitants of the locality. These same blufftop 

residences would prove far less hospitable during 

the winters as they would have been fully exposed 

to the bitter winds. 

Variability in lodge size within the locality 

poses questions for future fauna and flora studies 

to determine if the lodges were seasonally occupied. In addition, one might expect that the 

ceramics found in the large lodges would exhibit 

greater variation within the ware groups, especially if Wedel's (1979) population estimate is 

correct. Lodge 13ML130, for example, could accommodate 34 people according to Wedel's formula. 

The above example is only one of many smallscale problems that can be addressed within the 

Glenwood locality. The emphasis upon localityspecific problems that can be tested and the 

application of these results to other localities as 

hypotheses offers a promising approach to the 

formulation of large-scale synthetic models. Ideally, working from the particular to the general 

will result in a deeper understanding of the ecological and cultural adaptations of this prehistoric 

culture. 

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1939. Tabeau's Narrative of Loisel's Expedition to the Upper 

Missouri. Norman: University of Oklahoma 

Press. 

Anderson, Adrian D. 

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and John Hotopp, Archaeological Explorations 

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1965. Climatic Episodes and the Dating of the Mississippian Cultures. Wisconsin Archaeologist, 46:203-220. 

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Cooper, Paul 

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Dean, Seth 

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Placement of the Central Plains Tradition in 

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Semken 

1975. Waubonsie Watershed Survey: Report to the National Park Service, Contract Nos. 2-920-P2-0043 

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Johnson, Alfred E. 

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Site, Tuttle Creek Reservoir, North Central Kansas, 1957. Plains Anthropologist, 18:271-299. 

Keyes, Charles R. 

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285-344. 

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1949. Archaeological Investigations in Medicine Creek 

Reservoir, Nebraska. American Antiquity, 14(4)1: 

278-284. 

Krause, Richard A. 

1969. Correlation of Phases in Central Plains Prehistory. 

In W. Raymond Wood, editor, Two House Sites 

in the Central Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 6, 

14(44)2:82-96. 

1970. Aspects of Adaptation among Upper Republican 

Subsistence Cultivators. In Wakefield Dort and J. 

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of Geology, University of Kansas Special Publication, 

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1976. Settlement Ecology of Solomon River Upper Republican Sites in North Central Kansas. Doctoral 

dissertation in anthropology, University of Missouri, Columbia. 

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External Relationships. Office of the State Archaeologist Report, 11:81-93. Iowa City: University of 

Iowa. 

Long, Austin, and Bruce Rippeteau 

1974. Testing Contemporaneity and Averaging Radiocarbon Dates. American Antiquity, 39(2):205-215. 

McKusick, Marshall B. 

1964. Men of Ancient Iowa. Ames: Iowa State University 

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Naroll, Raoul 

1962. Floor Area and Settlement Population. American 

Antiquity, 27:587-589. 

Orr, Ellison 

1963. Iowa Archaeological Reports 1934-1939 with an 

Evaluation and Index by Marshall McKusick. In 

David Baerreis, editor, Archives of Archaeology, Society for American Archaeology, microcard series, 20. 

Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 

Proudfit, S.V. 

1881a. Earthworks on the Missouri River. American Antiquarian, 3(2): 139. 
192 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

1881b. Antiquities of the Missouri Bluffs. American Antiquarian, 3(4):27l-280. 

1886a. The Lodge Dweller. American Antiquarian, 8(4):222-

228. 

1886b. Pottery Vessels in Glenwood, Iowa. American Antiquarian, 8(5): 299. 

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1976. A Trend-Surface Analysis of Central Plains Radiocarbon Dates. American Antiquity, 41(2): 181-

188. 

Sterns, Fred H. 

1915. The Archaeology of Eastern Nebraska, with Special Reference to the Culture of the Rectangular 

Earth Lodges. Doctoral dissertation. Harvard 

University, Cambridge. 

Strong, William Duncan 

1935. An Introduction to Nebraska Archeology. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, 93(10): 1-315. 

Udden, J.A. 

1902. Geology of Mills and Fremont Counties. Iowa 

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1934 [1935]. Contributions to the Archaeology of the 

Upper Republican Valley, Nebraska. Nebraska 

History Magazine, 15(3): 132-209. 

1940. Culture Sequence in the Central Great Plains. 

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1953. Prehistory and the Missouri Valley Development 

Program: Summary Report on the Missouri River 

Basin Archeological Survey in 1948. Bureau of 

American Ethnology Bulletin, 154:1-59. [River Basin 

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1961. Prehistoric Man on the Great Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 

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Central Plains: An Experiment in Archaeology. 

Nebraska History Magazine, pages 1-28 [reprinted 

from volume 51(2):225-252]. 

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Blakeslee, editor, The Central Plains Tradition: 

Internal Development and External Relationships. Office of the State Archaeologist Report, 11:4-5. 

Iowa City: University of Iowa. 

1979. House Floors and Native Settlement Populations 

in the Central Plains. Plains Anthropologist, 24(84, 

l):85-98. 

Willey, Gordon R., and Phillip Phillips 

1958. Method and Theory in American Archaeology. Chicago: 

University of Chicago Press. 

Wilson, Gilbert L. 

1934. The Hidatsa Earthlodge. American Museum of Natural History Anthropological Papers, 33(5):340-420. 

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Works Progress Administration 

c. 1930. Iowa's Original Forest Cover: Iowa State Planning Board, Iowa Project 1033. Original map in 

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Zimmerman, Larry J. 

1977. Prehistoric Locational Behavior: A Computer 

Simulation. Office of the State Archaeologist Report, 

10. Iowa City: University of Iowa. 
Paleo-Indian Winter Subsistence Strategies 

on the High Plains 

George C. Prison 

ABSTRACT 

This paper suggests that Paleo-Indians utilized 

caches of frozen meat to survive the harsh winters 

of the Northern Plains. To keep the meat from 

spoiling, the Indians necessarily had to kill the 

bison in late fall or early winter. 

Introduction 

Few archeologists are concerned with the problems of prehistoric winter survival on the High 

Plains. Nevertheless, the homesteaders, prospectors, trappers, hunters, explorers, livestock operators, and others who lived through the early 

days on the High Plains certainly regarded winter 

as treacherous. Failure to make the proper preparations for winter was playing dangerous odds 

with serious consequences. Even during the first 

quarter of this century, such things as insulated 

footwear, fast, comfortable cold-weather transportation, and easily available, concentrated 

foods were yet unknown. Few, if any, of the 

present generation experienced the feeling of wellbeing that resulted from the availability of simple 

insulated footgear after World War II. No longer 

was the person who worked outdoors in winter 

forced to carefully prepare his or her footgear 

each day, or else suffer the nagging misery of cold 

feet. Improper attention to footgear could result 

George C. Prison, Department of Anthropology, University of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyoming 82071. 

in a bad case of frost bite that could cripple an 

individual for life. 

Winters on the High Plains are unpredictable 

from year to year. One or, especially, a series of 

easy or "open" winters tended to lead the human 

occupants into the trap of improper summer and 

fall preparation. When relatively mild temperatures and light snow cover resulted in a very 

pleasant winter, human travel was easy, game 

animals were easily available, and a good share 

of day-to-day activity could be comfortably carried on outside. On the other hand, severe winter 

conditions brought on different reactions. Long 

periods of deep snow, high winds, and below-zero 

chill factors required a different and very serious 

approach to avoid extreme discomfort or even 

loss of life. The assumption here is that these 

pioneer conditions can be generalized to the 

Paleo-Indian period. 

The only safe survival strategy was to regard 

each coming winter as bad, and prepare accordingly. This philosophy of winter subsistence required enough food to allow for the most unfavorable conditions; since winters did vary in intensity, there was often some food left. In the case 

of postulated frozen meat caches in the PaleoIndian period, the surplus spoiled with the arrival 

of warm weather. There is some evidence that 

strongly suggests this was the case. 

Late Prehistoric and Historic Winter 

Subsistence 

Drying meat for winter use has been well documented for Indian groups of the historic period. 

193 
194 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Large herbivores were taken in late summer or 

early fall and the meat products were properly 

dried and otherwise prepared for winter use. The 

horse was of utmost importance in the survival 

strategy during the historic period. The nature of 

the communal buffalo hunt has been explored by 

many writers and does not need to be repeated 

here. 

A few simple statements by a White boy, Nick 

Wilson, who spent about two years with Chief 

Washakie's Wind River Shoshoni group beginning in August 1856 are particularly revealing 

with regard to a pattern of winter survival. During the first winter with the Shoshoni on the 

Jefferson River in Montana, Wilson (Wilson and 

Driggs, 1919:35) notes: 

Most of the buffaloes by this time had left for their winter 

range; but once in a while we saw a few as they passed our 

camp. The Indians did not bother them, however, because 

we had plenty of dried meat, and for fresh meat there were 

many white-tail deer that we could snare by handing loops 

of rawhide over their trails through the willows. 

Washakie's group had prepared early for winter and were well aware of what would be available on hoof Preparations for Wilson's second 

winter with the Shoshoni were even more revealing OVilson and Driggs, 1919:62, 68). 

The Indians killed a great many elk, deer, and moose 

while in this valley, and the squaws had all they could do 

tanning the skins and drying the meat. I asked Washakie if 

he was planning to winter in the valley. "Oh, no," he replied. 

"The snow falls too deep here. After the buffalo get fat, and 

we kill all we want for our winter use, we will go a long way 

west out of the buffalo country, but where there are plenty 

of deer and antelope. 

Finally the time came for us to begin killing buffaloes for 

our winter's supply of meat. We did not have to hunt them, 

however, for we could see them at any time in almost any 

direction. Many a time I went out with Washakie to watch 

the hunters kill the buffaloes. Washakie wanted only five 

and we soon got them; but it took mother and Hanabi a 

good many days to tan their hides and get the meat ready 

for winter. 

The following comments provide insights on the 

quantity of food reserves required (Wilson and 

Driggs, 1919:74). 

When mother and I went to packing up for our return, 

we found that we did not have pack saddles enough for all 

of our camp outfit. Besides our tepee, bedding, clothing, and 

utensils, we had sixteen sacks of dried meat and two sacks of 

service berries. This was too much for our eight pack-saddles. 

Mother said that we could get along if we had two more 

saddles so I told her to use mine for one and I would ride 

bareback. She did not like to do this, but she finally consented, and another boy let us have his saddle, so we packed 

ten horses. 

The Shoshoni prepared for winter by collecting 

and drying surplus meat for use in the cold 

months. The fact that buffalo were around, but 

not hunted because of an adequate supply of 

dried meat, argues for a planned accumulation 

of winter surpluses well ahead of time. The winter 

presence of the animals was not a dependable 

event from year to year, hence the accumulation 

of surpluses early in the season. Wilson's observations are particularly valuable because he was 

a member of a pioneer family in the Great Salt 

Lake area and lived through several harsh years 

under conditions that emphasized the need for 

careful preparation for winter survival. 

The strategy of processing bison for winter use 

by drying, pemmican manufacture, or some related technique is believed to have some time 

depth based on archeological evidence. It certainly characterizes the late prehistoric period 

and probably some of the Archaic period. Animal 

population studies indicate a high incidence of 

late summer and early fall bison kills during these 

time periods on the High Plains (Reher, 1970, 

1973; Prison, Wilson, and Walker, 1978) and 

some form of drying of meat products seems to 

be the only dependable method of preserving 

meat taken at this time of year. Drying of meat 

has the advantage of significantly reducing the 

bulk and thereby increasing portability and ease 

of storage. The subjects of meat drying, pemmican manufacture, and daily human caloric requirements have been treated elsewhere (Prison, 

1967; Wheat, 1972) and are only mentioned here 

as part of the discussion, for the central theme of 

this paper is the Paleo-Indian winter subsistence 

strategy. 

In contrast to the evidence for late prehistoric 
NUMBER 30 195 

and late Archaic periods, our present data for the 

Paleo-Indian period argue for late fall and winter 

bison killing based on taphonomic studies of bison 

kill sites. If these data are correct, Paleo-Indian 

winter subsistence strategies differed from those 

of the late prehistoric and late Archaic periods. 

Enough investigations of High Plains bison kill 

sites have now been done to propose some testable 

hypotheses. 

The Source of Data 

Archeological sites with high visibility on the 

High Plains are those related to animal procurement (Figure 33). Bison kills dominate the archeological record from Paleo-Indian times until 

these animals nearly disappeared in the late nineteenth century. Other animals failed to run even 

a close second in terms of quantity of meat products, except possibly the mammoth during the 

FIGURE 33.—Kill sites on the northwestern and central Plains 

with seasonal determinations of animal procurement (1 = 

Horner, 2 = Colby, 3 = Big Goose Creek, 4 = Piney Creek, 

5 = Carter-Kerr McGee, 6 = Hawken, 7 = Wardell, 8 = 

Casper, 9 = Glenrock, 10 = Agate Basin, 11 = HudsonMeng, 12 = Jones-Miller, 13 = Olsen-Chubbuck) 

Clovis time period. Many bison procurement locations were closely associated with stream and 

arroyo systems that provided topographic features favorable for the trapping and killing of 

bison. Subsequent geological events regularly 

covered the remains and provided good in situ 

preservation. It is unlikely, however, that the lack 

of proper topographic features precluded bison 

trapping. Corrals and fences of a highly sophisticated nature were present on the High Plains in 

the late Archaic period (Prison, 1971), and similar 

structures were almost certainly within the capabilities of the Paleo-Indian. 

Geologic events have often operated contrary 

to the wishes of archeologists. Many periods of 

erosion and deposition have occurred since Clovis 

times. As argued by Albanese (1978) with good 

supporting evidence, there have been major 

changes in the topography of the High Plains in 

the past 11,000-12,000 years, particularly along 

drainages. Lateral and vertical cutting of streams 

have removed a large share of the total number 

of archeological sites and, since Paleo-Indian sites 

have been around the longest, their chances of 

survival are the least. Other sites are effectively 

concealed through deposition to the extent that 

their chances of being discovered either accidentally or through more acceptable practices of 

predictive models are also low. 

Sand dune areas were also favored for past 

human activity. Large herbivores were attracted 

to sandy areas because of unique conditions of 

feed and water. Sand dunes also provided favorable topographic features for trapping animals 

(Prison, 1974:21-25). Dune fields are also probably the most susceptible of all landforms to destruction. Sandy areas may be stabilized over 

long periods of time, but even short periods of 

drought may initiate wind transport with subsequent loss of context of archeological materials 

and destruction of faunal materials. As a result, 

we are limited to a small and biased sample of 

Paleo-Indian sites. However, some patterned behavior is emerging from the sites that are known. 

Of particular interest are some definite ideas on 

a Paleo-Indian winter survival strategy that differ 
196 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

somewhat from those described for the late prehistoric and historic periods. 

Analytic Techniques 

Faunal analysis has proven to be a valuable 

interpretive tool in archeological site analysis and 

the full potential for its use has not yet been 

realized. Bone beds remaining after the killing 

and butchering of large numbers of animals are 

particularly suited for taphonomic study, because 

they provide large samples of past animal populations to be viewed instead of individuals. In 

these situations, analysis of tooth eruption and 

wear can yield reliable indications of the animals' 

ages. These data can be used in turn to establish 

seasonality or time of year of events involving 

large animal kills. The usefulness of this kind of 

data has been proven in many archeological and 

paleontological site contexts (Reher, 1970, 1973, 

1974; Prison, Wilson, and Wilson, 1976). The 

method, however, requires large samples and assumes that birthing time has not changed since 

Paleo-Indian times. A change in birthing time 

would require either a shift in the timing of the 

seasons of the year or climatic changes that would 

have allowed survival of newborn animals other 

than in the spring of the year. Both of these events 

seem highly unlikely. 

Other methods of age determination need further development. Annual rings in the growth of 

teeth can be used in many cases and can reveal 

animal age as well as summer and winter growth. 

Bone ossification stages may eventually allow 

closer age determination as osteological studies of 

various animals are pursued. The osteological 

study of fetal material is also promising; but the 

full potential is not yet realized mostly due to a 

lack of specimens demonstrating the complete 

range of fetal development. 

The chronology of Paleo-Indian occupations 

on the High Plains is becoming continually more 

reliable and understood through intensified investigation of new sites and reevaluation of existing data. Reinvestigation of some of the classic 

type-sites such as Agate Basin and Horner, supplemented by an improved methodology, promises better explanations for data recovered much 

earlier. The Agate Basin site in east-central Wyoming is a good example. The extensive use of an 

industrial trenching machine has provided the 

profiles necessary for geologists to determine that 

a number of Paleo-Indian components can be 

tied together through an extinct arroyo system. 

In the past it has been the tendency, and 

justifiably so, based on then available data, to 

view several of the Paleo-Indian type-sites, and 

others as well, as being representative of only a 

single, discrete event of a single cultural complex. 

It has forced archeologists to view many PaleoIndian cultural complexes as opportunistic 

groups who happened to be in the right spot at 

the right time to fortuitously kill a number of 

bison, or other animals, exist on the results of the 

effort, and then simply move on until the same 

events recurred at another location. However, 

Paleo-Indian sites related to animal procurement 

such as Agate Basin (Roberts, 1961; Prison, 1978), 

Horner (Jepsen, 1953), and Carter-Kerr/McGee 

(Prison, 1977), all in Wyoming, now suggest more 

patterned behavior by Paleo-Indians over long 

periods of time. Some of these locations were used 

also by human populations representing many 

cultural complexes. 

The Agate Basin Site 

The Agate Basin site (Roberts, 1961; Prison, 

1978) has been particularly informative, but it 

has only been through a better understanding of 

the paleotopography, the erosional and depositional history of the locality, the past vegetation 

history, and the seasonal determinations through 

faunal analyses that past cultural activities are 

becoming better understood. 

To establish some basis for reference, the Agate 

Basin locality needs to be pictured as it probably 

was during the Polsom through Agate Basin and 

Hell Gap periods. Clovis evidence is present but 

does not enter into the present discussion, since 

the only known component was not a kill site or 

a winter occupation. Also, although that compo-
NUMBER 30 197 

nent is located in the same locality, it is in a 

different arroyo than the one containing the stratified Polsom, Agate Basin, and Hell Gap components. 

During early Paleo-Indian times, or probably 

around 12,000 years ago, the Agate Basin locality 

was characterized by a deep arroyo with steep 

banks and a wide flat bottom with occasional 

barriers in the form of knickpoints, which formed 

small but effective impediments to large animals 

moving up and down the arroyo bottom. This 

arroyo was and still is advancing through headward erosion into a large, relatively flat. Pleistocene surface. 

The arroyo was one of several that ultimately 

formed a small, low gradient and intermittent 

watercourse known as Moss Agate Creek, which 

eventually drained into the Cheyenne River. A 

low but prominent divide separates Cheyenne 

River and Moss Agate Creek, and from this exposed location the timbered slopes of the southern 

Black Hills are quite visible across the Cheyenne 

River. Present at the site, during Polsom times at 

least, were the heather vole {Phenacomys intermedius) and the red-backed vole {Cluthrionomys gapperi), which strongly suggest a more shrublike 

understory at that time in contrast to the sagebrush and grass cover today. Shrubs could have 

been of importance to Paleo-Indian hunters in 

providing material to build structures to augment 

the natural topography for bison procurement. 

The old arroyo at the Agate Basin site locality 

began to aggrade during Clovis times and continued until the youngest known cultural component. Hell Gap, was buried by 3 to 5 meters of 

alluvium. Studies have not yet been able to determine when the system began to degrade, but 

old trenches revealed in profiles suggest that when 

it did, part of the aggraded deposits were removed. This may have been an Altithermal period phenomenon. There are, in fact, some geological deposits present in the site locality that 

have produced artifact material diagnostic of the 

Altithermal or early Plains Archaic periods. However, these deposits have not yet been properly 

studied. 

The trenches into the Paleo-Indian alluvium 

were later filled and another period of degradation began that ultimately produced the present 

topography. The present main arroyo chose a 

somewhat different course, which removed entirely some of the older deposits, partially exposed 

others, and in some places left the old deposits 

intact. This situation confused earlier investigators, who assigned separate site designations to a 

large number of Paleo-Indian site exposures that 

were, in reality, closely interrelated by the arroyo 

system. Soils and climate provided food for optimum winter range conditions for bison and, in 

turn, provided ideal topographic features for winter bison trapping. 

The old arroyo at Agate Basin was the scene of 

many separate Paleo-Indian bison kills that varied in the number of animals taken. One Polsom 

kill, for example, contained about eight animals. 

The original Agate Basin site component may 

have contained over 100 animals, but this very 

likely represented more than one procurement 

event. The one known Hell Gap component contained between eight and ten bison. As mentioned 

above, the one in situ Clovis component is in 

another location and appears to be a spring or 

early summer camp site. They were utilizing 

bison but we do not know the means of procurement. However, there is a high probability that 

further site investigations will reveal Clovis components underlying the other Paleo-Indian components. 

The study of bison remains in Polsom, Agate 

Basin, and Hell Gap components points unequivocally to winter kills. Fortunately, there are adequate samples of young animals and, in addition, 

fetal material to help establish animal ages at the 

time of death. It is suggested that the animals 

were first butchered and then frozen. The units 

were piled and used as needed. Obviously, the 

meat piles required protection; evidence suggests 

that the hunters may have camped alongside the 

meat piles, withdrawing food as needed. The 

wide, flat-bottomed arroyo would have provided 

a satisfactory camping location during the winter 

months. 
198 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

Since the kills were in the bottom of the arroyo, 

spring runoff and flood waters had varying effects 

on the various cultural components. Some were 

preserved intact; others were washed out and 

disturbed to certain degrees; while others were 

moved out entirely. This also explains satisfactorily the mixing of components observed in many 

instances at the Agate Basin site, since a slight 

amount of down cutting at one spot could remove 

part of an older component and then deposit it 

further downstream on top of a younger component. 

The Horner Site 

Further evidence of late fall and winter bison 

killing is preserved at the Horner site. First regarded as only a manifestation of the Cody complex at about 9,000 years ago, recent investigations have revealed Alberta components going 

back to about 10,000 years ago. Jepsen (1953) 

claimed the Cody components to be late fall or 

early winter kills; the Alberta components are of 

about the same season or possibly later in the 

winter. 

Paleotopographic studies do not support the 

former presence at Horner of any favorable topographic features that alone would have formed a 

trap. We now propose that the apparent favorable location for the animals resulted in construction of an artificial trap. The new evidence from 

Horner now argues for at least 1,000 years of 

bison procurement rather than a single event in 

that locality. This adds a strong measure of continuity to the procurement activities and supports 

also the idea of planned yearly activities. The 

concentration of bison bones gave a first impression that it was nothing more than a discarded 

pile of disarticulated bones. However, as the bottom of the pile was explored, larger units and 

finally complete animals were revealed. The abrupt ending of the edges of the bone concentration now suggest some containment of the animals. The most likely means for this was probably 

a corral of heavy logs that would not have required pestholes. The cobble terrace would have 

been especially difficult as a medium into which 

postholes could have been dug. Freezing of the 

meat would have been accomplished with no 

difficulty in late fall and winter. 

The Carter-Kerr/McGee Site 

A Paleo-Indian site also related to animal procurement is located in the Powder River Basin 

near Gillette, Wyoming. The Carter-Kerr/ 

McGee site can be understood only in terms of 

animal behavior in relation to the site topography. Although only a remnant of the site survived 

the processes of erosion, what does remain provides a record of animal procurement for Clovis 

through the Cody complex, or for a period of 

over 2,000 years. Paleo-Indian components 

present include Clovis, Polsom, mixed Agate Basin and Hell Gap, and mixed Alberta and Cody 

complex. All are in situ and are in stratigraphic 

sequence (Prison, 1977). 

The site is located toward the head of an arroyo 

that once flowed into a wide, shallow Pleistocene 

lake. The arroyo, today, has a wide, flat bottom 

and steep sides. The bottom is close to the water 

table and is swampy for a good share of the spring 

and early summer resulting in a thick cover of 

tall grasses. Assuming similar conditions in PaleoIndian times with the added attraction then of 

the water and grass around the Pleistocene lake, 

ideal conditions for large herbivores were present. 

In addition, other arroyos leading away from the 

lake offered ideal topographic conditions for large 

animal trapping. 

My current interpretation is that the PaleoIndian components are located adjacent to what 

was then an animal trap strategically located 

toward the head of the arroyo. The configuration 

of the eroding arroyo at any given time determined the exact location of animal procurement 

activities. This location could have changed from 

year to year depending upon snow melt and 

rainfall conditions. In fact, the present arroyo 

formed a highly efficient animal trap during 1977 

(Prison et al., 1978:394), but moisture from an 

unusually heavy snow pack during the winter of 
NUMBER 30 199 

1977-78 caused the arroyo walls to collapse and 

significantly reduced its value as a trap without 

the addition of some sort of restraining structure. 

However, in 1979, the debris from the 1978 event 

was removed by runoff during a heavy thunderstorm and it regained the proper configuration 

for a large animal trap. 

The uppermost level (Cody-Alberta) is the only 

one containing sufficient bison remains to allow 

for a time of year determination. Aging of the 

animals based on tooth eruption indicated a winter kill. Included in the bone bed are large, articulated units along with larger numbers of disarticulated individual bones similar to the situation 

at Horner site that suggests a large meat cache. 

The incomplete nature of the site, however, made 

it impossible to determine the complete range of 

site activities occurring there. The cultural levels 

below Cody-Alberta were too incomplete to allow 

aging of the animals. However, the investigators 

suggest that the older components reflect large 

animal procurement. The Polsom component at 

the Carter-Kerr/McGee site is highly reminiscent 

of the Polsom component at Agate Basin and 

perhaps both reflect similar cultural activities. 

The seasonality of other Paleo-Indian bison 

kills in and near the Northwestern Plains was also 

late fall and winter. These include the Casper site 

during Hell Gap times and Jones-Miller (Reher, 

1974:113-124) also of Hell Gap age (Stanford, 

pers. comm.). The Hudson-Meng site of the Alberta cultural complex was determined to be a 

late October or November kill (Agenbroad, 

1978:30-31). In contrast the Olsen-Chubbuck bison kill (Wheat, 1972) was probably a summer 

kill (Prison, 1978:291-292), which makes it somewhat of an anomaly among other Paleo-Indian 

bison kills. 

The Hawken Site 

Altithermal conditions and their effects on bison still remain largely hypothetical and conjectural. However, we can document the pattern of 

winter and early spring bison killing at the Hawken site (Prison, Wilson, and Wilson, 1976) in the 

Black Hills area of Wyoming and South Dakota. 

At 6,500 to 6,000 years ago, these arroyo bison 

kills of the Altithermal or early Plains Archaic 

period appear to be late continuations of the 

Paleo-Indian pattern. Bison of a size intermediate 

between those of the Paleo-Indian period and 

those of the present day were trapped toward the 

heads of steep-sided arroyos leading away from a 

large, flat gathering area. The camp area for the 

Hawken site was not located at the kill since the 

arroyo bottom was not suitable for a camp. It was 

probably nearby, however, since the immediate 

site area presents many favorable camp locations, 

but is highly eroded due to sandy soils. 

The Hawken site is highly reminiscent of the 

bison procurement situation at the Carter-Kerr/ 

McGee site. Stratified deposits of bison bones at 

the Hawken site itself and at single component 

situations in other arroyos nearby suggest a recurring pattern over a long period of time. Radiocarbon dates, 6470±140 B.P. (RL 185); 

6270±170B.P . (RL437);6010±170B.P . (RL484), 

further support this contention (Prison, 1978:41). 

Large samples of ageable bison dentitions provide 

seasonal determinations. 

Possible Clovis Meat Caches on the High 

Plains 

The Colby site in the Big Horn Basin of northcentral Wyoming (Prison, 1976, 1978) provides 

evidence suggesting meat caching during Clovis 

times. Evidence of site activity was preserved in 

the bottom of a wide, deep, steep-sided arroyo as 

the result of aggradation subsequent to the event. 

As at the Agate Basin site, the arroyo at the Colby 

site filled with alluvium during late Paleo-Indian 

times. 

At present the site area appears much different 

from that of Clovis times. Instead of the deep 

arroyo, the present one is shallow with gentle 

slopes; lateral tributaries have formed a small, 

dendritic drainage pattern (Albanese, 1978:381-

383). Downcutting has removed all of the Clovis 

occupation surface except for a small amount in 

the bottom of the old arroyo. Within this, how-
200 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

ever, is contained the partial remains of at least 

seven mammoths. Evidence indicates that two 

concentrations of mammoth bone resulted from 

human activity, although there is no way to 

determine the actual method of animal procurement. 

One bone pile (Prison, 1976) in the center 

consists of an articulated left front quarter of a 

nearly mature mammoth. Stacked around this 

are long bones and other skeletal elements of at 

least two juvenile mammoths; directly on top of 

the pile is the skull of a young mammoth. One 

Clovis projectile point was recovered at the base 

of the pile and one and probably two bone tools 

were associated. One side of the pile had been 

partially collapsed by runoff water. Half of a 

mammoth pelvis was moved several meters down 

the arroyo until its forward progress was stopped 

at a narrow constriction. In the bottom of the 

arroyo at the base of the bone pile was a split 

granite boulder probably used in butchering or 

processing of the animals. 

This stacked pile of bones is thought to be a 

frozen meat cache. If so, it is one that was never 

opened. The front quarter of a mammoth, weighing several hundred pounds, was placed on a 

small rise in the arroyo bottom. The other large 

bones and the skull formed a protective fence 

around it (Prison, 1978:95-102). The meat evidently spoiled as warm weather arrived. 

A short distance (30m) up the arroyo is another 

pile of mammoth bones containing parts of at 

least three more animals with one skull included. 

However, this pile was disturbed and no articulated units were present (Prison, 1978:95). The 

interpretation here is that this also represented a 

meat cache but one that had been opened and 

the meat products retrieved. The concept of frozen meat caches appears to fit the data here 

better than other explanations. 

Discussion and Conclusions 

The processing areas associated with the typical buffalo jumps of the late prehistoric and early 

historic periods on the High Plains are manifested 

by several readily identifiable features and artifacts. These include stone-heating pits, stone boiling pits, and piles of bone reduced to varying 

sizes for boiling out the bone grease. Anvil stones 

and hammerstones were used extensively in the 

bone crushing and breaking processes. These features and artifacts were clearly portrayed at two 

sites: Piney Creek and Big Goose Creek at the 

base of the eastern slopes of the Bighorn Mountains in north-central Wyoming. Cultural affiliations of the two sites are believed to be with the 

Crow Indians after they had moved to the High 

Plains as buffalo hunters (Prison, 1967:37-39; 

Prison, Wilson, and Walker, 1978:1-2). 

The bison at these two sites were killed in the 

early fall by jumping the animals over low bluffs. 

Processing areas were close to the kill areas. Large 

numbers of broken bones along with anvil stones, 

hammer stones, fire pits, stone boiling pits, and 

fire-cracked boulders strongly suggest the recovery of bone grease in large quantities. The time 

of year of the kill (early fall) argues against the 

possibility of freezing the meat so drying was 

probably being done on a large scale. There is no 

secure archeological evidence at these sites for 

meat drying, but ethnographic evidence for this 

practice during the historic period is abundant. 

During the early fall, the bison are in the prime 

condition that provides the thick layer of back fat 

used in pemmican manufacture. Both dried meat 

and pemmican provided the necessary surpluses 

to insure winter survival. 

Attempts to apply the same model to PaleoIndian bison kills have not been successful. The 

time of year of animal procurement is different. 

The features and artifacts common to the late 

prehistoric sites have not been identified. However, when a model of winter killing and freezing 

of bison meat in large butchered units is used, the 

data do begin to fit. Further support for this 

concept comes from sites such as Agate Basin, 

Horner, and Carter-Kerr/McGee where the locations are in preferred winter bison habitats and 

the procurement events covered long periods of 

time. 

Winter killing of bison, along with the frozen 
NUMBER 30 201 

meat caches, would undoubtedly have provided 

the necessary stored food for winter. However, 

one element would have been lacking, which is 

the fat on the prime animals of the late prehistoric 

period killed in the early fall of the year. The 

desirability of the fat animals is evident in Wilson's account of the Wind River Shoshoni in the 

mid-nineteenth century. Fresh meat was available in the form of white-tail deer, but the Shoshoni sought out a definite number of bison while 

they were fat (Wilson and Driggs, 1919:35). The 

carbohydrates were an important addition to the 

protein-rich diet of lean meat. How this affected 

the diet of the Paleo-Indian hunters or whether 

some other provision for this condition was made 

is not known. They may have also killed bison 

for winter use during the months when they 

carried large quantities of fat. This is, however, a 

subject to be considered in future Paleo-Indian 

studies. 

Literature Cited 

Agenbroad, L.D. 

1978. The Hudson-Meng Site: An Alberta Bison Kill in the 

Nebraska High Plains. Washington, D.C: University Press of America. 

Albanese, J.P. 

1978. Archeogeology of the Northwestern Plains. In G.C. 

Prison, Prehistoric Hunters of the High Plains, appendix 1. New York: Academic Press. 

Prison, G.C. 

1967. The Piney Creek Sites, Wyoming. University of 

Wyoming Publications, 33(1): 1-92. 

1971. The Buffalo Pound in Northwestern Plains Prehistory: Site 48C0402, Wyoming. American Antiquity, 36{l):77-9l. 

1974. The Casper Site: A Hell Gap Bison Kill on the High 

Plains. New York: Academic Press. 

1976. Cultural Activity Associated with Prehistoric 

Mammoth Butchering and Processing. Science, 

194:728-730. 

1977. The Paleo-Indian in the Powder River Basin. 

Paper presented to Thirty-Fifth Plains Conference, Lincoln Nebraska, November 17-19. 

1978. Prehistoric Hunters of the High Plains. New York: 

Academic Press. 

Prison, G.C, D.N. Walker, S.D. Webb, and G.M. Zeimens 

1978. Paleo-Indian Procurement of Camelops on the 

Northwestern Plains. Quaternary Research, 10(3): 

385-400. 

Prison, G.C, M. Wilson, and D.N. Walker 

1978. The Big Goose Creek Site: Bison Procurement and 

Faunal Analysis. Occasional Papers on Wyoming Archeology (Laramie), 1. 

Prison, G.C, M. Wilson, and D. Wilson 

1976. Fossil Bison and Artifacts from an Early Altithermal Period Arroyo Trap in Wyoming. American 

Antiquity, 41 (l).25-27. 

Jepsen, G.L. 

1953. Ancient Buffalo Hunters of Northwestern Wyoming. Southwestern Lore, 19:19-25. 

Reher, CA. 

1970. Population Dynamics of the Glenrock Bison bison 

Population. In G.C. Prison, The Glenrock Buffalo 

Jump, 48C0304. Plains Anthropologist Memoir, 7, 

appendix 2. 

1973. The Wardell Bison bison Sample: Population Dynamics and Archeological Interpretation. In G.C. 

Prison, The Wardell Buffalo Trap 48U301: Communal Procurement in the Upper Green River 

Basin, Wyoming. University of Michigan Anthropological Papers, 48. 

1974. Population Study of the Casper Site Bison. In 

G.C. Prison, The Casper Site: A Hell Gap Bison Kill 

on the High Plains, pages 113-124. New York: 

Academic Press. 

Roberts, F.H.H. 

1961. The Agate Basin Complex. In Homenaje n Pablo 

Martinez del Rio, pages 125-132. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Anthropologia y Historia. 

Wheat, J.B. 

1972. The Olsen-Chubbuck Site: A Paleo-Indian Bison 

Kill. Society for American Archaeology Memoir, 26. 

Wilson, E.N., and H.F. Driggs 

1919. The White Indian Boy. Yonkers-on-Hudson, New 

York: World Book Company. 
A Critical Review of Archeological Evidence 

Relating to the Antiquity of 

Human Occupation of the New World 

Dennis J. Stanford 

ABSTRACT 

This paper summarizes theories of human occupation of the New World and data from archeological sites that support a pre-12,000-year-old 

settlement of the New World. Many well-known 

localities and a few sites that have received very 

little publicity are critically examined to determine if any of the origin theories can be supported. It is concluded that although the evidence 

is meager, it is probable that humans were in the 

New World before the widely accepted date of 

12,000 years ago. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.—I wish to express my appreciation to Paula Cardwell, Elizabeth Beard, 

Jean Fitzgerald, the late Clifford Evans, Tommy 

Fulgham, Gary Haynes, Sally Hershey and Robert Lewis who helped with editing, typing, and 

preparing this manuscript. I would also like to 

acknowledge that the viewpoints contained in 

this paper are the results of ongoing discussions 

with Robson Bonnichsen, George Prison, C.V. 

Haynes, Richard Morlan, and H. Marie Wormington. However, I am solely responsible for all 

errors and oversights that occur in this manuscript. 

Dennis J. Stanford, Department of Anthropology, National Museum 

of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. 

20560. 

Introduction 

The antiquity of man in the New World is an 

extremely complex problem. Many archeological 

sites have been reported that, according to their 

investigators, have data relevant to settling this 

question, but most, when carefully scrutinized, 

lack conclusive evidence. This paper will summarize information currently available to me, 

discuss the various hypotheses about the antiquity 

of man in the New World, review some of the 

more relevant sites that have been published as 

potential evidence for a pre-12,000-year-old occupation of the New World, and discuss the 

nature of the evidence found at these sites. Certain Old World cultural traditions, from which 

the earliest Americans may possibly have been 

derived, will also be discussed. 

Theoretical Background 

The theoretical issues can be divided into two 

viewpoints: (1) Clovis culture (ca. 11,500 years 

ago) represents the earliest cultural tradition in 

the New World; or, (2) Clovis or other cultural 

manifestations of the same age found in the New 

World were preceded by earlier inhabitants of 

some, as yet, unknown age. These positions seem 

simple enough, but the problems associated with 

each are extremely complex and, due to the lack 

of specific data, both are plagued with vagaries. 

There are two basic positions that have been 

202 
NUMBER 30 203 

published advocating that Clovis peoples might 

be the first New World immigrants. One, proposed by C. V. Haynes (1978), is based on a 

cultural-technological model and on the lack of 

conclusive data to the contrary, while the other 

is based on a predator-prey-ecological model 

(Martin, 1973). 

C. Haynes (1978:130) points out that many of 

the technological traits found in Clovis, such as 

spurred end scrapers, blades, burins, bifacial reduction techniques for working stone, shaft 

straighteners and cylindrical bone tools, and the 

use of red ochre may have been derived from the 

late Paleolithic cultures of Eurasia. In the absence 

of any obvious precursors, he suggests that Clovis 

people arrived in the New World already 

equipped with an Eurasian paleolithic tool kit at 

some time between 12,000 and 13,000 years ago. 

In two separate papers, however, Haynes (1969, 

1970) suggests that man may have been in North 

America at least 30,000 years ago and offers a 

three-period scheme consisting of an early PaleoIndian stage (greater than 30,000 years old), a 

middle stage (30,000 to 12,000 years ago), and a 

late period (12,000 and 7,000 years ago). If so, 

then scientifically sound evidence for early stages 

should eventually be found, and can only be 

verified by an objective examination of stratified 

sites of the appropriate age. 

The other hypothesis calling for a later arrival 

of man is that of the "Pleistocene Overkill" model 

(Martin, 1973). It proposes that man entered the 

New World around 13,000 years ago with a fully 

developed Upper Paleolithic tool kit equipped to 

exploit efficiently a new game range; the new 

arrivals then swept rapidly across North and 

South America, completely exterminating many 

of the large animals that could not resist humans 

as predators. 

Computer simulation models of human advance presented by Mosimann and Martin (1975) 

support this overkill hypothesis; but the entire 

model is incongruous with basic biological 

(Odum, 1971) and cultural (Clark, 1968) theories 

of natural population expansion. A more logical 

explanation of Pleistocene faunal extinction is 

that many factors, including hunting by man, 

were responsible for the demise of these species. 

The primary cause was no doubt the effects of 

climatic changes at the end of the Wisconsinan 

glaciation, which sufficiently altered habitats so 

that many species, including some that were not 

hunted by man, became extinct (Graham, 

1979:65). 

Since there are no known stone projectile points 

universally accepted as being older than Clovis, 

some archeologists have proposed a "pre-projectile point" horizon (Krieger, 1964; Willey, 1971). 

This was first advocated by Krieger (1964:42-51) 

who contended that people with a core and flake 

technology, derived from Asiatic sources, were 

the first to exploit the New World. Unfortunately, 

the archeological complexes from which Krieger's 

model was generated did not come from wellcontrolled or excavated sites. None of Krieger's 

listed sites can be attributed either to a cultural 

stage or to a chronological age because most 

represent quarry detritus. 

Miiller-Beck (1966), comparing North American assemblages to those from Eurasian collections, divides the Paleo-Indian culture into two 

distinct technological traditions. The first, characterized by a specialized hunting technology 

utilizing bifacial projectile points, developed on 

the open plains of Central Europe during early 

Upper Pleistocene. It was basically a continuation 

of the hand-ax traditions, contemporaneous with 

Mousteroid bifacial and flake-tool industries. The 

artifact assemblage from the Kostyenki site in the 

Ukraine is identified specifically as the Old World 

cultural complex that is typologically closest to 

the older Llano complex of North America (including Clovis and Sandia). These early industries with specialized projectile points supposedly 

expanded into the New World between 28,000 

and 26,000 years ago. The second invasion, about 

11,000 years ago, was primarily that of the Aurignacoid industries. These cultures, having basically a core-blade-burin industry, formed the 

basis of the later Eskimo and Aleut cultures. 

Few data support a spread of complexes with 

bifacial projectile points down the ice-free corri-
204 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

dor to the Northern Plains at such an early date. 

The Sandia Cave dates, upon which Miiller-Beck 

derives his basal age for older Llano, are not 

considered reliable (Stevens and Agogino, 

1975:22). 

The concept that the Aurignacoid industries 

gave rise to late Eskimo and Aleut traditions is 

supported by recent excavations at Dry Creek, 

Alaska (Powers and Hamilton, 1978), Onion Portage, Alaska (Anderson, 1970) and at Bluefish 

Cave, Yukon Territory (Cinq-Mars, 1979). All 

support a minimal age of 11,000 years for the 

American Paleo-Arctic tradition. 

MacNeish divides the human occupation of 

the New World into four hypothetical stages 

(MacNeish, 1978, 1979a). These stages are divided on the basis of technological attributes of 

artifacts into "undated probable," "possible," 

and "dated probable" complexes, based on 

MacNeish's assessment of the reliability of data 

from various New World sites. 

STAGE I (MacNeish's "Undated Probable").— 

The big game collectors dates from around 70,000 

to 30,000 years old and is characterized by crude, 

large bifacial choppers, cleavers, concave-sided 

unifaces, and retouched flakes. Sites included in 

this stage and which will be discussed in this 

paper are the Ayacucho Pacaicasa, Old Crow, 

Santa Rosa Island, Lewisville, Levi Rock Shelter 

(stratum IV), Tlapacoya, El Bosque, and TaguaTagua. 

STAGE II ("Possible").—Unspecialized hunters, 

dates as old as 28,000 years in North America 

and lasts up to 10,000 years ago in South America. It includes such sites and assemblages as the 

El Homo locality at Valsequillo, the Ayacucho 

complex at Pikimachay Cave and the lowest level 

at Meadowcroft Rock Shelter, and Los Toldos 

Cave. Characteristic implements include unifacial projectile points, burin-like tools, large flat 

flakes with retouched and denticulated edges, as 

well as bone tools. 

STAGE III ("Dated Probable").—Specialized 

hunters, dates from 20,000 years old in North 

America to 11,000 years old in South America. It 

is characterized as having bifacial leaf-shaped 

projectile points, blades, and burins. Sites included in this stage are Meadowcroft Rock Shelter, Wilson Butte Cave, Hueyatlaco locality and 

Unit E at Valsequillo, and Taima-Taima. 

STAGE IV.—Ecozonal specialized hunters, 

dates between 13,000 and 10,000 years ago. Included in this stage are all of the widely recognized Paleo-Indian complexes of North and 

South America. 

Although MacNeish (1979a:2) admits that the 

evidence for demarcation of these stages is poor, 

he feels, that the data are sufficient to cause a 

rethinking of concepts about early man in the 

Americas. 

Alan Bryan (1965, 1977a, 1978, 1979) presents 

a model of multilinear evolution in which there 

are independent lines of development of PaleoIndian technologies. He feels these technological 

traditions are the result of responses to different 

environments found in the Western Hemisphere. 

Bryan's major traditions consist of (1) the Fluted 

Point, (2) the Stemmed Point, and (3) the 

Notched Point traditions. All are thought to have 

evolved from a generalized technological pattern 

that had its roots in an Old World Paleolithic 

core, flake, and bone-working technology. This is 

evidenced in such sites as Texas Street and Calico 

Hills, both in California. 

Thus, there is little disparity among the major 

interpretations for New World origins as briefly 

outlined above. Major differences that are initially apparent rest almost entirely with the quality of data that various investigators will accept 

as evidence for a human occupation site. However, most researchers agree that an early cultural 

tradition that developed in Asia moved into the 

Americas with a relatively simple lithic and bone 

technology. 

Criteria for Acceptable Archeological Evidence 

The major problems surrounding hypothetical 

early man sites are the reliability of the radiometric dates, the lack of (or inadequately understood) stratigraphy, and the identification of artifacts or of pseudo-artifacts. 
NUMBER 30 205 

Radiometric determinations are extremely 

complex, and more research on dating technology 

needs to be conducted so that the reliability of 

dates can be assessed. This is true for wood charcoal dates, as well as for the more controversial 

bone collagen and apatite dates. There is also a 

need for additional research regarding racemization, paleomagnetism, and thermoluminescence 

techniques. Given the difficulties with these dating techniques, it is clear that a single radiometric 

date cannot be considered reliable for dating a 

site or an occupation level. Nor can dates that 

have been run on bone or other organic matter 

be considered accurate until many problems with 

these techniques are worked out. 

Rudimentary flaking is not indicative of any 

chronological or cultural technological stage. 

Thus, it is impossible to identify an early cultural 

tradition on the basis of lithic technology from 

surface-collected artifacts. Only sites that have 

precisely dated stratigraphy can be used as evidence for early man. 

The major problem is to distinguish artifacts 

from bone and stone objects that have been altered by various natural noncultural processes. 

This problem cannot be resolved until well-conceived experiments and studies with sound theoretical and systematic approaches have been conducted. Impressionistic statements merely cloud 

the literature with misleading and confusing information. 

A site must meet the following criteria to be 

accepted as evidence for a pre-Clovis culture: (1) 

clearly defined stratigraphy; (2) reliable and consistent radiometric dates; (3) consonance of the 

data from various relevant interdisciplinary researches; and (4) unquestionable human artifacts 

in indisputable association. These rigid criteria 

would eliminate most of the existing sites from 

any discussion. Nevertheless, in the following paragraphs I will discuss some of the dubious sites, 

mainly because, they indicate strongly that pre12,000-year-old occupations might be found in 

the New World and because most of them have 

been used by various authors to support the 

existence of extremely early occupations. My observations are confined to those sites of which I 

have firsthand knowledge or are published in 

sufficient detail. 

Site Evidence 

Recent finds in the Arctic suggest that man 

may have been in the New World for a much 

greater number of years than previously recognized (Figure 34). The discovery of a flesher made 

of caribou bone from the Old Crow Basin in the 

Canadian Yukon resulted in an increased effort 

to locate pre-Clovis remains (Irving and Harington, 1973). The caribou flesher, although nearly 

identical to those used by the modern Athapaskan 

Indians, was dated to an age of 25,000 to 30,000 

years old. Research by Bonnichsen and Morlan 

(Bonnichsen, 1978, 1979) on the modification of 

fossil bone indicates that it would have been 

impossible for this tool to have been manufactured after fossilization. 

These discoveries gave impetus for two longrange research programs to be undertaken in the 

Old Crow Basin. The first was organized by 

Irving of the University of Toronto and is known 

as the Northwest Yukon Refugium Project 

(NYRP), while the second, the Yukon Refugium 

Project (YRP), was organized by Morlan of the 

Canadian National Museum of Man. The research teams involved with these projects have 

spent the last few years diligently searching for 

evidence of early man in the Yukon (Irving and 

Cing-Mars, 1974; Irving and Harington, 1973, 

1978; Morlan 1977, 1978, 1980) and have produced impressive numbers of fossil remains and 

paleoecological dates. Unfortunately, the researchers have not been able to locate an in situ 

occupation level on or within any of the river 

terraces that they have examined in the Yukon. 

Instead, nearly all fossils have been found in 

redeposited contexts along gravel bars of the Porcupine and Old Crow rivers, as well as in buried 

erosional surfaces. Fewer than a dozen bones have 

been found in possibly primary depositional context. Some megafaunal bones were modified into 

unquestionable artifacts while others show signs 
O / 

• MEADOWCROFT ROCK SHELTER 

CHANNEL ISLANDS 

LITTLE CANYON CREEK CAVE SELBY 

SMITH I CREEK CAVE • • -uTTOM 

LAMB SPRING "UTTON 

CALICO HILLS 'SHRIVER 

• 'SANDIA CAVE 

FRIESENHAHN CAVE • ! LEWISVILLE 

TEXAS STREET A (\ LEVI DOCK SHELTER 

TLAPACOYA ^ 

VALSEQUILLO 

^ a ICE 

PLEISTOCENE SHORE LINE 

PACK ICE 

FIGURE 34.—Locations of New World archeological sites that 

are discussed in the text. 

LOS TOLDOS CAVE 
NUMBER 30 207 

of butchering. Among the unquestionable artifacts are antler wedges, a caribou antler flaking 

tool, which is nearly identical to specimens from 

Upper Paleolithic sites of Eurasia (Shovkoplyas, 

1965; Mochanov, 1977), a broken antler projectile 

point, and evidence of a bone-flaking technology 

including bone cores and utilized bone flakes. A 

human mandible and possibly domestic dog remains also were found (Irving et al., 1977; Beebe, 

1978). 

Unfortunately, no in situ reliably dated sites 

have been found, but there is little question that 

most of the specimens are of Pleistocene age. 

Based on stratigraphic correlation with glacial 

sequences and lake basin sediments, Irving and 

Morlan estimate that some of these localities 

would have had human occupations by at least 

40,000 years ago, if not earlier (Morlan, 1978, 

1980). Morlan (1980:22) reports butchered bone 

from a stratigraphic unit bracketed between 

80,000 years old (date on underlying ash) and 

50,000 years old (^'^C date on overlying peat). 

Bluefish Cave I (Cing-Mars, 1979) was occupied several times between 10,000 and 13,000 

years ago. While the upper level (containing microblades and burins) is related to the American 

Paleo-Arctic tradition, the earlier occupation contained chert flakes in association with horses, 

proboscideans, bison, and other faunal remains, 

some of which may have been butchered and 

burned. 

One important but controversial site in North 

America is Meadowcroft, in southwestern Pennsylvania (Adovasio et al., 1975, 1977; Adovasio, 

Gunn, et al., 1980). In a deeply stratified rock 

shelter, the lowest suggested occupation level contained a number of small flakes and flake tools 

and a bifacially flaked projectile point reputedly 

more that 16,000 years old. The charcoal used in 

dating, however, appears to have been contaminated by "dead" carbon carried in the ground 

water (Haynes, 1980). Puzzling, too, is the fact 

that faunal species are all recent forms, although 

they extend back to the Pleistocene in that area 

(Adovasio, Gunn, et al., 1980). 

The Shriver site, in northwestern Missouri, 

could be significant (Reagan et al., 1978). A 

fluted point associated with end scrapers was 

found at 30-40 cm below the ground surface. 

Attribute analysis suggested that the point is 

closer to Folsom than Clovis in form, although, 

in my opinion, it could be related to some of the 

eastern fluted points, which may be later in age 

than Folsom. The lowest (Peorian) level contained burins, end scrapers, tortoise and tabular 

cores, and unifacial flake tools. Reagan et al. 

(1978) suggest that because of a thermoluminescence determination for the fluted point level of 

12,855± 1,500 B.C., this lower layer must be over 

15,000 years old. Unfortunately, this dating technique is highly tenuous and needs to be verified 

by other sources. 

The Selby and Dutton sites in northwestern 

Colorado (Stanford, 1979) were found in 1975 

during the construction of irrigation ponds in 

topographic depressions. Both have extremely 

similar stratigraphy, although the Selby site is 

located on a Pleistocene playa and the Dutton 

site is on a ponded stream channel. In both, the 

sequence from the lowest level to the upper is as 

follows: (1) Peorian loess (estimated age <17,000 

years), containing the bones of camel, horse, and 

bison; (2) a series of lacustrine soils (estimated 

age is between 17,000 and 12,000 years old), with 

mammoth, horse, bison, camel, sloth, peccary, 

and some smaller mammal remains; (3) a gleysol 

(11,710±150 years B.P. [SI-2877]) which contains 

mammoth bones, and (4) at the Dutton site, 

Clovis age artifacts; and (5) Holocene soils, which 

produced no bones or artifacts. 

Many faunal remains appear to have been 

butchered and many have characteristic impact 

depressions, which may have been produced by 

marrow processing activities. Other specimens 

have flakes removed from the bone diaphyses, 

which appear to be the result of the production 

of bone flakes and cores. Specimens that are 

nearly identical to these have been experimentally produced from the bones of modern elephant (Stanford et al., 1981). Some bones had 

high gloss polish, fracture edge rounding, and 

step fractures similar to bone tools found in other 

late period archeological sites. 

Hrdlicka (1912) and P'ei (1938, 1939) noted 
208 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

that natural events, such as boulder fracturing in 

streams or trampling by animals, as well as carnivore alteration, can break bones in a manner 

suggestive of human butchering. At Dutton and 

Selby, however, there are no boulders in the 

loessial soils, and the deposition of these soils 

reflects a low energy water system. It is further 

possible that the bones were trampled by animals 

coming to water, but it seems unbelievable that 

animals could break the bones in such consistent 

patterns. 

The location of the center of gravity near the 

distal end of the fractured specimens may have 

caused them to sink into wet sediments with only 

the proximal or pointed end exposed. These exposed ends may then have subsequently been 

polished by abrasion from water or windborne 

particles, giving the impression that the bones 

were used as tools. 

Carnivore alteration can also spirally fracture 

bone (Sutcliffe, 1970; G. Haynes, 1978, 1980; 

Hill, 1975; Buckland, 1822). Several studies, including the work of Gary Haynes, currently of 

the Smithsonian, promise to clarify this matter. 

To date these studies have not shown that carnivores can produce large impact depressions, or 

flake bones like those recovered at Dutton, Selby, 

or Old Crow. However, these data remain questionable until additional research in bone modification is complete. 

Lamb Spring, located near the South Platte 

River in Douglas County, Colorado, also may be 

pre-Clovis. Wedel (1965) excavated the site in 

1961 and in a layer below a Cody bison kill, 

found Pleistocene faunal remains, including 

mammoth, bison, and camel, which dated to 

around 13,000 years old. Because no stone artifacts were found in the lowest level, excavation 

was terminated. 

Recently, I noted that many of the bones from 

the lowest level were broken in a manner similar 

to those from Dutton and Selby. Consequently, 

the site warranted further investigation. In 1979, 

a 33-pound boulder associated with flaked mammoth bone was found in one of the trenches. 

Since there are no boulders elsewhere at the site, 

I believe that it was probably brought there for 

bone processing. Further excavations at this site 

in 1980 yielded additional data (Stanford, 1981). 

Friesenhahn Cave, near Austin, Texas, yielded 

several chert flakes and a human molar, as well 

as Pleistocene fauna (Evans, 1961:21). This site 

has often been mentioned as possibly pre-Clovis 

(MacNeish, 1978, 1979a). However, subsequent 

analysis of the deposits by Russell Graham (1976) 

has demonstrated that the cave was occupied by 

Scimitar cats rather than by man. All of the 

faunal remains from this deposit show evidence 

of having been chewed by these large, lionlike 

cats. Further, all of the chert flakes were found in 

a talus cone directly below the cave opening and 

are presumed to have washed into the cave from 

an extensive occupation found on the ground 

surface around the opening. It is Graham's conclusion that the cave was not occupied by man. 

Another Texas site that should be discussed is 

the Levi Rock Shelter (Alexander, 1963). This 

site has several occupation levels, with two presumed pre-Clovis levels underlying an occupation 

that has been identified as Clovis (Alexander, 

personal communication). The earliest pre-Clovis 

level is cemented into the back of the cave by a 

travertine deposit and was partially eroded. The 

subsequent pre-Clovis occupation occurs in unconsolidated cave fall and detritus. Stone tools in 

the form of utilized flakes were recovered from 

these older units. The stratigraphy of this site is 

extremely complex and is complicated by a tremendous mass of unconsolidated roof-fall, which 

makes interpretations of occupation horizons 

nearly impossible. The cave travertine is currently 

being deposited along the walls of the rock shelter, 

and its interface with recent unconsolidated fill 

cannot be considered a time horizon marker. 

Future work should explore more of these early 

occupation levels and clarify the relationship between these geologic phenomena and the various 

occupations of the cave. 

The Lewisville site in Denton County, Texas, 

was first excavated by R. King Harris and Wilson 

Crook between 1951 and 1957 (Crook and Harris, 

1957). Twenty-one burned areas were identified 
NUMBER 30 209 

as hearths, along with several artifacts including 

a Clovis point, a chopper, and several flake tools. 

Faunal and floral remains indicate a variety of 

time horizons. Numerous radiocarbon dates indicate that the burned features were essentially 

devoid of radioactive carbon and were thus over 

40,000 years old (Crook and Harris, 1962). 

The Clovis projectile point at Lewisville was 

presumed to have been a plant. Some prehistorians have suggested that the hearths really represent burned pack rat nests (Heizer and Brooks, 

1965) or even burned tree stumps. The remaining 

"artifacts" were considered to have been washed 

into the soil matrix from higher terraces. The site, 

inundated by reservoir waters during excavation, 

has been controversial for twenty years. 

In 1978 a drought in central Texas brought the 

level of Lewisville Lake down below the level of 

the hearth area. At that time, Larry Banks and 

Robert Burton of the United States Army Corps 

of Engineers made additional discoveries that led 

me to reexcavate the site in 1979 and 1980. 

Research was terminated when heavy rainfall 

brought a rise in the water level. However, the 

brief excavation did yield some interesting data 

which will allow for tentative interpretations. 

Two independent laboratory analyses, one 

from the University of Illinois at Urbana and one 

from Harvard University, indicate that the 

burned areas contained lignitic coal. Thus, the 

early ^^C dates can be rejected. Lignite is found 

in the Woodbine formation one-quarter mile to 

the west and may have been brought to the site 

by man. 

Additional faunal and floral remains were 

found in and around the hearth areas. Several 

small flakes made of local quartzite, Edwards 

Plateau chert, and Alibates dolomite from the 

Texas Panhandle were also found associated with 

the burned areas. The cross-sections of the burned 

areas indicate they are indeed hearths. I think 

that the stone artifacts found by Crook and Harris 

are associated with these hearths, and the Lewisville site is probably a Clovis campsite. 

Intensely worked localities in southern California include Texas Street (Carter, 1957), and Calico Hills (Leakey et al., 1968; Simpson, 1978). 

Major problems with the sites center around the 

age of the deposits and the doubtful status of the 

recovered specimens as artifacts (Haynes, 1973). 

Suffice to say that a few of these stone objects 

do resemble artifacts (Leakey et al., 1968; Bryan, 

1978). Given the nature of the chert-bearing deposits, however, they must be viewed with a 

certain amount of skepticism. Publication of definitive geological work, sound dates, and evidence for hearths would allow definitive statements. 

The Channel Islands off California have also 

been described as having early fire hearths associated with the burned bones of Pleistocene fauna 

dating between 11,000-37,000 years ago (Orr, 

1968). However, the finds may be situated in a 

redeposited context. The weathered bedrock sediments have been oxidized to the same color as 

burned earth, making it difficult to distinguish 

hearth features. Further, the alluvial sequences 

on Santa Rosa Island contain abundant charcoal 

from natural fires (Johnson, 1980a: 110-111; 

1980b: 117-118). As the mammoth bones, stone 

tools, and putative hearths were also found on 

erosional unconformities, additional work is 

needed to clarify the nature of the human occupation of the Channel Islands. 

At the Manis site, on the Olympic Peninsula, 

a bone object tentatively identified as a projectile 

point was found inbedded in a mastodon rib 

(Gustafson et al., 1979). Although bone growth 

around the intrusive object indicated that the 

wound was inflicted a number of months before 

the animal died, the remains appeared to have 

been butchered. Along with the butchered remains, a cobble spall tool was recovered. 

Two radiocarbon dates suggest that the site is 

around 12,000 years old. These dates were derived 

from seeds, wood, and other vegetal remains that 

were found in the bone-bearing alluvium. 

If the association of the cobble tool, the presumed projectile point and the organics (presumably accurately dated) can be demonstrated, then 

there is a clear-cut case for hunting mastodon in 

the Pleistocene of the Northwest Coast. It is not 
210 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

possible, with the presently available data, to 

place the Manis site into any cultural framework. 

Smith Creek Cave in eastern Nevada has been 

reported to have had an occupation that is 12,000 

years old (Bryan, 1977b). This is a stratified site 

in which stemmed points, similar to Lake Mohave 

as well as Haskett and Cascade points, were 

recovered from the earliest occupation levels. 

These artifacts were found in association with 

other silex tools, such as end scrapers, a variety of 

micro-tools and a few bone artifacts. The only 

remains of an extinct species of mammal is Hemiauchenia hair, which was identified by comparing 

the Smith Creek samples with those of guanaco. 

Thirteen radiocarbon dates suggest an antiquity ranging from 12,000 years ago to 9,000 years 

ago. Bryan (1977b) contends that the two dates 

contemporaneous with Clovis and the camelid 

remains demonstrate that there were two completely different projectile point traditions in 

western North America between 11,500 and 11 ,-

000 B.P.: Mount Moriah from Smith Creek Cave 

and Clovis. The other eleven carbon dates are 

more in accord with dates of similar traditions 

found in the Great Basin; thus, I see little evidence 

to support the putative antiquity of the Mount 

Moriah tradition. 

Carbon-14 dates of 14,500±500 B.P. and 

15,000±800 B.p. from Wilson Butte Cave in Idaho 

(Gruhn, 1965) are somewhat tenuous, because 

material used in dating represents a pooled collection from three excavation squares. 

A promising site, Little Canyon Creek Cave in 

the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming (Shaw and 

Prison, 1979) contains a cultural unit that lies 

below a level dated at 10,170±250 B.P. This early 

level produced remains of musk ox {Symbos), collared lemming {Dicrostonyx), and an artifact assemblage that includes crude flakes, cores, and 

possible bone tools. Unfortunately, no charcoal 

was found in the deposits; but certainly, this 

occupation is older than 10,000 years and the 

lithic tools are not similar to either Clovis or 

Folsom, both of which are well represented in the 

Big Horn Basin. Several other rock shelters in the 

area also show indications of pre-Clovis occupation, but they await full-scale testing. 

Turning to Latin America, there are a few 

locations that are very close in age to Clovis. I 

have had the opportunity to visit some of them 

or to study the artifacts firsthand: Valsequillo 

and Tlapacoya, Mexico; El Bosque, Nicaragua; 

Taima-Taima, Venezuela; Pikimachay Cave, 

Peru; Tagua-Tagua and Quereo, Los Vilos, 

Chile; Los Toldos Cave, Argentina; and Rio Uruguay sites in Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil. 

Valsequillo Reservoir, located near Puebla, 

Mexico, produced some of the most promising 

evidence for an early occupation of the New 

World. Excavated by Irwin-Williams during the 

early 1960s, it consists of five localities that may 

demonstrate a continuum of occupation from 

around 21,000 years ago up to later occupations 

(Irwin-Williams, 1967, 1973). The earliest occupation units contain unifacial flake tools and 

projectile points made on flakes and shaped with 

crushed edges associated with butchered late 

Pleistocene fauna, including mammoth, mastodon, horse, camel, antelope, bison, and several 

smaller species. 

The major problem in interpreting these localities is the lack of conclusive dates. A date of 

21,850 B.p. derived from shell is the only radiocarbon date from any of the localities. Correlations of volcanic ash deposits (some of which 

are above occupation levels in which bifacially 

flaked artifacts were found) using both tephrochronology and neutron activation are in the 

magnitude of over a quarter of a million years 

(Steen-Maclntyre et al., 1973). The vertebrate 

paleontological remains which Graham (1978) 

describes from these localities are late Pleistocene 

forms and not of the antiquity suggested by the 

tephra dates. 

Eighteen localities, known collectively as Tlapacoya, have been excavated in the Valley of 

Mexico (Lorenzo, 1972; Mirambell, 1978). Several of these localities produced unquestionable 

artifacts associated with Pleistocene fauna and 

fire hearths dating to 24,000±4,000 and 

21,700±500B.P . 

At Locality I, three hearths, a bifacial obsidian 

projectile point, three obsidian flakes, as well as 

more than 2,500 andesite flakes and blades were 
NUMBER 30 211 

found. At Locality II, a prismatic obsidian blade 

was recovered, which appears to be much later in 

age than the date would suggest. Again, the basic 

problem is the dating of the hearths and the 

possibility that some artifacts were found out of 

statigraphic context. 

The El Bosque site in Nicaragua (Gruhn, 1978; 

Bryan, 1979; Espinosa, 1976) contains a number 

of tabular chert objects flaked at the edges. Associated faunal remains include mastodon and 

sloth. Several bone apatite and collegen dates 

suggest an age between 18,000 and 30,000 years. 

In January 1974, I observed that none of the 

bones showed evidence of human modification. 

The chert "artifacts" found with the bones come 

from an outcrop located adjacent to the site where 

it occurs in veins that, when weathered, break out 

in tabular pieces with crushed edges identical to 

the presumed stone tools found at the site. A 

landslide (Page, 1978) may have mixed the chert 

and faunal remains into a boulder slide field. At 

the present time, I view El Bosque as nothing 

more than a very interesting paleontological site. 

In El Jobo, Venezula (Cruxent, 1956; Rouse 

and Cruxent, 1963; Bryan et al., 1978), artifacts 

have been found on the terraces of the Rio Pedregal for many years. However, the main excavated site is the Taima-Taima locality, a spring 

site where remains of mastodon were possibly 

associated with El Jobo projectile points. Radiocarbon dates on organic matter indicate an 

age of around 14,000 years. If so, El Jobo represents a lithic projectile point tradition earlier than 

Clovis. This conclusion would mean that there 

were at least two cultural traditions in the Western Hemisphere and would support the multilinear evolution model proposed by Bryan (1978). 

The El Jobo points are highly reminiscent of later 

projectile point styles from many areas of Latin 

America. 

Since Taima-Taima is essentially a bog deposit, 

association of artifacts, faunal remains, and dated 

organic material could be fortuitous due to mixing of saturated sediments. Hopefully, there exist 

other El Jobo sites in which early dated hearths, 

artifacts, and Pleistocene faunal remains can be 

found in unquestionable association. 

Pikimachay Cave in Peru has received much 

attention in the recent literature (MacNeish, 

1971, 1979b). Based on bone dates from overlying 

levels, the earliest complex (Pacaicasa) is reputed 

to range from over 20,000 years to about 14,000 

years ago. Artifacts from this stage have been 

identified as large, crude bifacial and slab choppers, cleavers, hammers, scraping planes, and 

crude scrapers or spokeshave-like objects. Faunal 

remains included sloth, horse, deer, and giant cat. 

According to Lynch (1974:459) most of the socalled tools are merely angular rock fragments 

fallen from the walls of the cave itself, and it is 

difficult to prove that they were used as tools. 

The artifacts from two strata overlying the 

Pacaicasa levels have been grouped together to 

define the Ayacucho complex occupations. These 

occupations have a number of radiometric dates 

that cluster around 14,000 to 12,000 years old. 

Artifacts include scrapers, spokeshaves, burins, 

denticulates, unifacial projectile points, and bone 

tools. Associated fauna include sloth, horse, and 

camel, as well as the remains of more modern 

forms. If these dates and the associations are 

correct, then there is little question that man 

lived in the Andes long before the first fluted 

point was made in North America. 

The Tagua-Tagua site, Chile, with an early 

carbon date of 11,430±320 B.P. (Montane, 1968), 

represents a kill site in which mastodon, horse, 

and deer bones are associated with unifacial flake 

tools. There is no question as to the association of 

the artifacts with the faunal remains, especially 

the butchered bone. The single date should be 

supported with others. 

During excavation for a deep well at the turn 

of the last century the Quereo, Los Vilos site in 

central Chile had produced mastodon bones. The 

bones were placed in the Museo de Historia 

Natural, Santiago, Chile, and published by Sundt 

(1903). They received little attention until a radiocarbon date of 9,100±300 B.P. was published 

(Paskoff, 1971) and later the Chilean archeologist, 

Julio Montane, began a cooperative program 

with the Smithsonian Institution in 1972 and 

reexamined the bones. With archeologist C. Bahamondes, he conducted test excavations in 1973 
212 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

and defined Pleistocene lake deposits containing 

megafauna in the lowest levels associated with 

chips and flakes and possible stone tools. In 1975, 

1977, and 1978 Lautaro Nunez, geologist Juan 

Varela, and paleontologist Rodolfo Casamiquella 

made extensive stratigraphic excavations. I visited the site in 1976 and later examined the stone 

materials and bones and noted possible butchering marks and evidence of possible breakage by 

man. Now six radiocarbon dates based on charcoal from two different laboratories give a range 

of 11,600 to 10,925 B.p. It is hoped that a final 

report detailing these interdisciplinary studies of 

this locality will soon be forthcoming, which will 

allow for careful scrutiny of the significance of 

this site. 

On the Rio Uruguay along the international 

boundary of Argentina and the state of Rio 

Grande do Sul, Brazil, Eurico Th. Miller from 

1965 to 1979 had found 16 sites where lithic 

materials were found in association with extinct 

Pleistocene fauna at a depth of 5.5 to 6.8 meters 

below the present surface, overlain by a sterile 

stratum (Miller, 1969). Nine dates, from six sites, 

range from 12,690 to 11,555 to 10,180 B.P. Additional research is urgently needed in this significant area since planned hydroelectric dam construction may threaten the sites involved. 

Los Toldos Cave is located in Southern Argentina (Cardich et al., 1973; Cardich, 1978) and has 

produced a long stratified cultural sequence. The 

lowest level, contained a number of well-made 

unifacial artifacts. One has been described as a 

single-shoulder projectile point; however, my 

impression from a cursory examination is that it 

should be classified as a knife. Nevertheless, these 

artifacts were found in clear association with 

Pleistocene fauna. Charcoal collected from the 

occupation level produced a single radiocarbon 

determination of around 12,000 years B.P. Additional work needs to be conducted in order to 

verify this radiometric age determination. 

In summary, many of the sites discussed above, 

including Calico Hills, Texas Street, Lewisville, 

Friesenhahn Cave, El Bosque, and the proposed 

Pacaicasa complex of Pikimachay Cave in Peru 

have too httle convincing data to be considered 

significant in this assessment of the antiquity of 

man in the New World. The evidence from the 

Dutton, Selby, and Lamb Spring sites in Colorado, as well as the localities found on the Channel Islands of California also is extremely tenuous. 

If the fractured chert and bone and burned areas 

found at these sites can be shown to be by-products of human activity, they will figure more 

significantly into discussions of New World 

origins. 

The remaining complexes or localities contain 

conventionally acceptable archeological assemblages. However, the critical questions concern 

the reliability of the age assessments and the 

artifact associations. Future work should more 

accurately define their place in New World prehistory. 

Speculation about New World Origins 

At present this speculation about New World 

origins has to be based entirely on technological 

attributes of the artifacts that have been recovered at selected archeological sites. This is at 

best a hazardous exercise, inasmuch as the combined total of all of the tools found at these sites 

is extremely small, and all the tools were no doubt 

task-specific and were not representative of whole 

technologies. Thus, the entire complexion of the 

nature of the evidence might change with future 

research. 

The best evidence for the oldest known New 

World occupation comes from Latin America, 

where numerous sites seem to date earlier than 

Clovis in North America. The date of 20,000 

years and the unifacial flake tool assemblage 

sequence from Valsequillo (Mexico) indicate that 

a core and flake tool technology was used by the 

earliest New World culture. A flake/core industry 

seems to have persisted for a long time in Latin 

America as evidenced by the unifacial tools found 

at Pikimachay, Tagua-Tagua, and Los Toldos 

Cave in southern South America. 

Presumably when a site of the appropriate age 

is found in the Arctic, it will contain similar core 
NUMBER 30 213 

and unifacial flake tools, as well as the flaked 

bones similar to those found at the Old Crow 

localities. Although lacking the support of radiometric dating, the artifacts found at Little Canyon Creek Cave (Wyoming), the Shriver site 

(Missouri), and Levi Rock Shelter (Texas) fit well 

into a core and flake industry. 

The spatial and temporal development of bifacial reduction techniques is yet another question. Whether or not bifacial technology developed independently in the New World or was a 

Eurasian import is highly speculative. The bifacial projectile points found at Meadowcroft, 

Hueyatlaco (Valsequillo), and Taima-Taima 

have no well-documented counterparts or prototypes at a sufficiently early age in Eurasia. This 

would support a New World origin for this reduction technique. To say that Clovis may have 

developed from it is pure speculation. Nevertheless, since it is possible that bifacial lanceolate 

projectile points did exist in the New World just 

prior to the advent of Clovis, perhaps fluting did 

develop out of this earlier technology and perhaps 

as a response to a different cultural strategy adaptive for hunting in grasslands rather than forested 

environments. These thoughts to a certain degree 

accord with Bryan's model of multilinear evolution, in which there are regional and temporal 

specializations. 

Is there any evidence in Eurasia to support a 

model from which a core and flake industry may 

have been derived prior to 12,000 years ago? 

Unfortunately, the data from northwestern Asia 

are equally plagued by vagaries as are the American. However, Soviet archeologists working in 

Siberia (Figure 35) are beginning to establish a 

long archeological sequence which may extend 

into Pleistocene as far back as 35,000 years ago. 

Two basic Pleistocene cultures identified in Siberia are pertinent: the Proto-Diuktai and the 

Diuktai complexes (Mochanov, 1977). These 

complexes contain basically unifacial artifacts, 

although an occasional "bifacial" tool has been 

noted. The tool kit also consists of large pebble 

cores and choppers, wedge-shaped cores and microblades, multifaceted burins, as well as a very 

small number of bone tools (excluding the flesher) 

similar to specimens from Old Crow, Yukon. 

These artifacts have been found in association 

with bones of Pleistocene species, such as mammoth, horse, bison, and woolly rhino. 

The Proto-Diuktai stage is thought to date to 

as early as 35,000 years B.P. Some sites that are 

considered Proto-Diuktai are Ezhantsy (Mochanov, 1973), horizons B and C of Ust'Mil', 

which date 30,000±500, 33,000±500, and 

35,400±600 B.p. (Mochanov, 1973, 1977), horizon 

B at Ikhine I, which is thought to be around 

34,000 years old, and horizon C at Ikhine II, 

which dates to earlier than 31,000 years old (Mochanov, 1977). 

Diuktai Cave, is located on the Diuktai River 

in the Aldan River Valley of northern Siberia 

(Mochanov, 1977). The basic difference between 

Proto-Diuktai and Diuktai is that the production 

or use of microblades compared to other tools 

becomes much more frequent through time. The 

Diuktai stage is thought to date between 18,000 

and 11,000 years old. 

Mochanov postulates at least two migrations of 

Diuktai into the New World (Mochanov, 1978). 

The earlier, which took place between 33,000 and 

18,000 years ago, most likely gave rise to Clovis; 

a later migration, which dates between 18,000 

and 11,000 years ago, resulted in the American 

Paleo-Arctic traditions. 

If the dates for Proto-Diuktai and Diuktai accurately reflect the age of the artifacts that have 

been assigned to these stages, then it is possible 

that Diuktai was the ancestral population for the 

New World cultures. However, the postulated 

ages of the Proto-Diuktai stage in Siberia have 

not been accepted by some Soviet prehistorians 

(e.g., Abramova, 1979). It is possible that ProtoDiuktai is no earlier than 20,000 years old, which 

is near the upper age limit of the supposedly 

descendant Diuktai stage. Because, as Diuktai 

developed, there is apparently an increasing frequency in the use of microblade cores, microblades, and burins, and this degree of use of 

microblades and cores is not found in Clovis 

technology, I suggest that the initial tie between 
214 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY 

mm ICE 

— " — POLITICAL BOUNDARIES 

PLEISTOCENE SHORE LINE 

FIGURE 35.—Locations of Asiatic archeological sites that are discussed in the text. 

the New World population and that of Siberia 

was at the early end of the Diuktai time scale 

rather than at a later period. In fact, I think that 

the initial tie may have been more in the nature 

of a common cultural ancestor that moved into 

Siberia from east Central Asia. 

The basic assumptions in this paper are that 

native American populations originated from a 

generalized mongoloid racial stock that was developing in Asia during the late Pleistocene. It is 

assumed that these people were bands of hunters 

and foragers who had adapted to the big game 

hunting economy afforded by the steppe-tundra 

biome. This biome existed in Central Asia and 
NUMBER 30 215 

extended across Beringia to perhaps as far south 

as Mexico (Matthews, 1976; Hopkins, 1976). This 

population, which developed during the period 

between 40,000 and 30,000 years ago, moved 

northward into Siberia, bearing a core and flake 

technology that eventually gave rise to the Diuktai cultures, as well as to the earliest American 

cultures. Perhaps, as Miiller-Beck (1966:1191) 

suggests, there was an amount of cultural and 

biological exchange between these peoples and 

eastward-advancing Mousteroid cultures. This 

would be supported by Birdsell's (1951) concept 

that the original New World population was a 

blend of primitive caucasoids with a generalized 

mongoloid strain. 

The problems associated with resolving these 

questions are complex and require multidisciplinary research designs. However, archeologists 

must continue to search for and excavate sites of 

the appropriate ages that hold promise for resolving these questions—a sometimes very frustrating 

endeavor. 

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