Nogales international., 1946-06-07
Geronimo And His Apache Braves
Had Quit War Path 73 Years Before

ITOIl CI1C OlQ V1lIlCI 0il0 AN~N ~
queros of the San Joaquin.
Out of all this l made a large
drawing of cowpuncher on
starved-looking pony gazing rue
fully down at a mummified steer,
named it "Drouth' and sent it to
Harper's Weekly. 1t came back
with the comment "Not serious
enough" If the editor could have
heard the Arizona comments on
that drawing But that was
forty-one years ago.
There were Apache-Tontos-at
old Camp Verde; fierce hawk-faced
people from the chaparral. 1t was
not wise, the storekeeper told me,
for stranger to visit their camp
alone. I made some sketches of
them though; but quickly, and
from safe concealment. How much
of the cruelty l saw in those grim
visages was of my own imagining?
But they were the nearest thing to
the wild fighting Injun l shall
ever see.
Crawling through tiny rooms
cut in the cream colored cliff of
Montezuma's Castle (silly name)-
picking up bits of pottery, dream
ing of a far and forgotten past;
the enchantment of moonlight on
Montezuma's Well - and dreams,
more dreams. Those dim Indian
ghosts that I induced have ever
since befriended me. l know them
again at old Oraibi, at Walpi, at
Mishongnovi, at Shipaulovi and at
silent Betatakin = and through
them | have reached to something
I cannot name, yet more than half
believe. Somehow, it seems, you
may not understand Indians until
you make friends with the ghosts.
The Hopi-we called them MOqui
then-in their prehistoric villages
atop the mesas-were, it seemed
to me, the living incarnation of
those ghosts. The light, the color,
the dusky interiors, the quiet muir
mur of their voices, the surround
ing silence, all confirmed it. -Four
months at Walpi in lone associa-
ton with this living past. | knew
time no more; only seasons, and
the world suspended in eternity. A
! little feathered Katchina and bits
of tourquoise hung against pearl
white wall and my friend Namoki
telling stories to his little naked
son,-the swaying arc Of customed
figures in the Basket Dance,-and
deep chant of the Neman Katchi-
na,-the moving sunlit poetry of
the Flute Dance at Toreva,-all
this and Broadway were under the
same sky! | never worked at
higher levels.
Thirty-three thousand Navajo
they told me, in a vast remote
country of mesas, plains and can
yons, the all of which no white
man knew. To man on horse
back, remember, or in wagon, the
world was on a scale unknown to
motorists, - and roads then were
trails or wagon tracks.
Ganado trading post, sixty-five
miles from the railroad, was two
days by horseback, one day with
a good buggy team, and four days
for the freight wagons-in good
weather. Now two hours by motor
car. Chinlee, twenty-five miles
further, at the mouth Of Canyon
de Chelly, was really remote, anC
Kayenta, seventy miles more, was
ga damn long way in any dlrec-
ton"
There were real trading posts
not small-town stores transplanted
Ganado was a solid mud -and-stone
bastion-almost a forthwith barr
ed windows and heavy double
doors and ready firearms in every
! room. Here Lorenzo Hubbell, the
elder, was jovial dictator, and from
the head Of his long dining table
dispensed an endless flow of drol
anecdotes and fare Of carne SEGA
frijoles, canned corn and sour
dough biscuits to visiting senators
travelling statesmen and Mexican
teamsters alike with equal and un.
failing courtesy.
Chinlee was a log house witt
extremely wide caves, and muC
floor, small dusty windows, with
it's corral and hay-stack isolated
upon a bare knoll Here Sam Day
and his wife held the post witt
hospitality to all travellers and fan
treatment to the Navajo. The
walls, floors, and furniture were
literally covered with an astound-
ing assortment of Navajo weaving
and Ute beadwork of all ages
kinds and conditions. 1t was "OlC
timey" to the limit. The Indians
seemed wilder and even more
primitive than at Ganado, and here
l heard railroad Indians" men
toned with disdain.
Thirty-three thousand Navajo
"Not hostile" l was told, "but bet
ter travel in a party. No, they
would not kill you, but if they
caught you alone they'd likely take
everything you've got and leave
you afoot; and getting back tC
somewhere might be plenty
tough" In those days they haC
a little custom with strangers
Meeting you out afoot, they woulC
run their horses right at you, all il
a bunch, yelling and laughing as
though to trample you into the
ground-and the Lord help you il
you ran. You might as we'll keeE
on running until you reached the
railroad. They tried it ON me once
1 ] n