menu_book Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII. FROM THE DEEP WOODS TO CIVILIZATION by Charles A. Eastman, O'Hiesa. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. CHAPTER VIII. WAR WITH THE POLITICIANS When the most industrious and advanced Indians on the reservation, to the number of thousands, were ordered into camp within gunshot of Pine Ridge Agency, they had necessarily left their

homes, their livestock, and most of their household belongings unguarded. In all troubles between the two races, history tells us that the innocent and faithful Indians have been sufferers, and this case was no exception. There was much sickness from exposure, and much unavoidable sorrow and anxiety. Furthermore, the war being over, these loyal Indians found that their houses had been entered and pillaged, and many of their cattle and horses had disappeared. The authorities laid all this to the door of the hostiles,

and no doubt in some cases the charge may have been true. On the other hand, this was a golden opportunity for white horse and cattle thieves in the surrounding country, and the ranch owners within a radius of a hundred miles claimed large losses also. Moreover, the government herd of issue cattle was found to be greatly depleted. It was admitted that some had been killed for food by those Indians who fled in terror to the

Badlands, but only a limited number could be accounted for in this way, and little of the stolen property was ever found. An inspector was ordered to examine and record these depredation claims, and Congress passed a special appropriation of $100,000 to pay them. We shall hear more of this later. I have tried to make it clear that there was no Indian outbreak in 1890-91, and that such trouble as we had may justly be charged to the dishonest politicians,

who through unfit appointees first robbed the Indians, then bullied them, and finally in a panic called for troops to suppress them. From my first days at Pine Ridge, certain Indians and white people had taken every occasion to whisper into my reluctant ears the tale of wrongs, real or fancied, committed by responsible officials on the reservation, or by their connivance. To me, these stories were unbelievable from the point of view of common decency. I held that a great

government such as ours would never condone or permit any such practices, while administering large trust funds and standing in the relation of guardian to a race made helpless by lack of education and of legal safeguards at that time i had not dreamed what american politics really is and i had the most exalted admiration for our noted public men accordingly i dismissed these reports as mere gossip or the inventions of mischief makers in march of 1891 i was invited

to address the Congregational Club of Chicago, and on my arrival in the city I found to my surprise that the press still fostered the illusion of a general Indian uprising in the spring. It was reported that all the towns adjoining the Sioux reservations had organized and were regularly drilling a home guard for their protection. These alarmists seemed either ignorant or forgetful of the fact that there were only about 30,000 Sioux altogether,

or perhaps 6,000 men of fighting age, more than half of whom had been civilized and Christianized for a generation and had just proved their loyalty and steadfastness through a trying time. Furthermore, the leaders of the late hostels were even then in confinement in Fort Sheridan. When I was approached by the reporters, I reminded them of this

and said that everything was quiet in the field. But if there were any danger from the ghost dancers, Chicago was in the most immediate peril. Fortunately, we had in the office of Commissioner of Indian Affairs at that time a sincere man and one who was deeply in sympathy with educational and missionary work, General Morgan of Indiana. He was a lover of fair play, and throughout my

fight for justice, he gave me all the support within his power. As I have before intimated, I found at Pine Ridge no conveyance for the doctor's professional use, and indeed no medical equipment worthy the name. The agency doctor was thrown entirely upon his own resources, without the support of colleagues, and there was no serious attempt at sanitation or preventative work. I had spent a good part of my salary, as well as funds contributed by friends,

in the purchase of suitable medical supplies and instruments. Finally, I boldly asked for a team and buggy, also a hospital for critical cases, with a trained nurse and a house for us to live in. Somewhat to my surprise, all of these were allowed.

I was ambitious to give efficient service, so far as it was possible, and I loved my work. Though the field was too large, and the sick were too many for one man to care for, and there were many obstacles in the way. One was the native prejudice, still strong,

against the white man's medicine, and especially against any kind of surgical operation. The people were afraid of anesthesia, and even in cases where life depended upon it, they had steadfastly refused to allow a limb to be amputated. If I so much as put on a plaster cast, I had no sooner left our temporary hospital than they took it off. It may be of interest to tell how this prejudice was in part overcome. One day, my friend Three Stars, a Christian chief,

came in with his wife who had dislocated her shoulder. Can you help her? he asked. Yes, I said, but I must first put her to sleep. You should have brought her to me last night when it first happened, I added, and then that would not have been necessary. You know best, replied Three Stars. I leave it entirely with you. In the presence of a number of the wounded Indians, I administered a small quantity of chloroform and jerked the arm back into its socket. She came back to consciousness

laughing. It appeared to them a miracle, and I was appealed to after that whenever I dressed a painful wound to give me some of that stuff you gave to three stars wife not long afterwards i amputated the leg of a mixed blood which had been terribly crushed and he not only recovered perfectly but was soon able to get about with ease on the artificial limb that i procured for him my reputation was now established i had gained much valuable experience and in this connection

I want to express my appreciation of the kindness of several army surgeons with whom it was my pleasure to work, one of whom took my place during a six-weeks leave of absence when I went east to be married. I had some interesting experiences with the Indian conjurers, or medicine men, to use the names commonly given. I would rather say mental healer or Christian scientist of our day, for the medicine man was all of that, and further, he practiced

massage or osteopathy, used the Turkish bath, and some useful vegetable remedies. But his main hold on the minds of the people was gained through his appeals to the spirits and his magnetic and hypnotic powers. I was warned that these men would seriously hamper my work, but I succeeded in avoiding antagonism by a policy of friendliness.

Even when brought face to face with them in the homes of my patients, I preserved a professional and brotherly attitude I recall one occasion when a misunderstanding between the parents of a sick child had resulted in a double call The father, who was a policeman and a good friend of mine, urgently requested me to see his child While the frantic mother sent for the most noted of the medicine men Brother, I said when I found him already in attendance

I am glad you got here first. I had a long way to come, and the children need immediate attention. I think so, too, he replied, but now that you are here, I will withdraw. Why so? Surely two doctors should be better than one, I retorted. Let us consult together. In the first place, we must determine what ails the child. Then we will decide upon the treatment. He seemed pleased, and I followed up the suggestion of a consultation by offering to enter with him the sweat bath he had prepared as a means of purification before beginning his work.

After that, I had no difficulty in getting his consent to my treatment of the patient, and in time he became one of my warm friends. It was not unusual for him and other conjurers to call at my office to consult me or borrow my medicine. I had some of the wounded in my care all winter. I remember one fine-looking man who was severely injured. A man of ordinary strength would have succumbed,

but his strength and courage were exceptional, and best of all, he had perfect faith in my ability to restore him to health. All through those months of trial, his pretty young wife was my faithful assistant. Every morning she came to see him with her baby on her back, cheering him, and inspiring us both to do our best. When at last he was able to travel,

they came together to say goodbye. She handed me something, carefully wrapped in paper, and asked me not to open it until they had gone. When I did so, I found that she had cut off her beautiful long braids of hair and given them to me in token of her gratitude. I was touched by this little illustration of woman's devotion and happy in the thought that I was soon to realize my long dream to become a complete man. I thought of little else than the good we two could do together

and was perfectly contented with my salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. In spite of all that I had gone through, life was not yet a serious matter to me. I had faith in everyone and accepted civilization and Christianity at their face value. A great mistake, as I was to learn later on. I had come back to my people, not to minister to their physical needs alone,

but to be a missionary in every sense of the word. And as I was much struck with the loss of manliness and independence in these, the first reservation Indians I had ever known, I longed above all things to help them to regain their self-respect. On June 18, 1891, I was married to Elaine Goodell in the Church of the Ascension, New York City, by the Reverend Dr. Donald.

Her two sisters were bridesmaids, and I had my chum in the medical school for best man, and two Dartmouth classmates as ushers. Many well-known people were present. After the wedding breakfast in her father's apartments, we went to Sky Farm, my wife's birthplace in the beautiful Berkshire Hills, where she and her sister Dora, as little girls, wrote the apple blossoms and other poems. A reception was given for us at Dorchester by Mr. and Mrs. Wood,

and after attending the Wellesley College commencement and spending a few days with my wife's family, we returned to the West by way of Montreal. At Flandreau, South Dakota, my brother John had gathered all the family and the whole band of Flandreau Sioux to welcome us. There my father had brought me home from Canada, an absolute wild Indian, only eighteen years

earlier. My honored father had been dead for some years, but my brothers had arranged to have a handsome memorial to him, erected and unveiled at that time. Our new home was building when we reached Pine Ridge, and we started life together in the old barracks while planning the finishing and furnishing of the new.

It was ready for us early in the fall. I had gained permission to add an open fireplace and a few other home-like touches at my own expense. We had the chiefs and leading men to dine with us, and quite as often some of the humbler Indians and poor old women were our guests. In fact, we kept open house, and the people loved to come and talk with us in their own tongue.

My wife accompanied me on many of my trips now that I had a carriage and was always prepared with clean clothing, bandages, and nourishing food for my needy patients. There was nothing I called my own save my dogs and horses and my medicine bags. Yet I was perfectly happy, for I had not only gained the confidence of my people, but that of the white residents and even the border ranchmen called me in now and then.

I answered every call and have ridden forty or fifty miles in a blizzard, over dangerous roads, sometimes at night, while my young wife suffered much more than I in the anxiety with which she awaited my return. That was a bitterly cold winter, I remember, and we had only wood fires, soft wood, and no modern conveniences, yet we kept in perfect health.

The year rolled around, and our first child was born, a little girl whom we called Dora. Meanwhile, though the troops had been recalled, we were under military agents. There were several changes, and our relations were pleasant with them all. The time came for the small annual payment of treaty money, and the $100,000 payment for depredation claims, of which I have spoken,

was also to be made by a special dispersing agent. This payment was not made by check, as usual, but in cash, and I was asked to be one of the three witnesses. I told the special agent that as I was almost constantly occupied, it would be impossible for me to witness the payment, which would take several days, but he assured me that if only one of the three were present at a time, it would be sufficient, and understanding my duties to be only nominal, I consented. I was in the office from time to time while the payment was going on, and saw the people

sign their names, generally by mark, on the roll which had been prepared, opposite the amount which each was supposed to receive. Then a clerk at another desk handed each in turn a handful of silver and bills, and he passed out as quickly as possible. The money was not counted out to him, and he was given no chance to count it until he

got outside. Even then, many could not count it, and did not clearly understand how much it ought to be, while the traders and others were close at hand to get all or part of it without delay. Before I knew it, I was approached by one and another who declared that they had not received the full amount, and I found that in numerous cases, reliable persons had counted the cash as soon as the payees came out of the office.

A very able white teacher, a college graduate, counted for several old people who were protégés of hers. An influential native minister did the same, and so did several others. All reported that the amount was short from 10 to 15 percent. When anyone brought a shortage to the attention of the dispersing agent or his clerk, he was currently told that he had made a mistake or lost some of the money.

The complaints grew louder, and other suspicious circumstances were reported. Within a few days, it was declared that an investigation would be ordered. The agent who had made the payment and immediately left the agency, being informed of the situation, came back and tried to procure affidavits to show that it had been an honest payment. He urged me to sign, as one of the original witnesses, arguing that I had already committed myself.

I refused. I said, After all, I did not see the full amount paid to each claimant. As the payment was conducted, it was impossible for me to do so. I trusted you, therefore I allowed you to use my name,

but I don't care to sign again. The regular agent in charge of our Indians at the time was, as I have said, an army officer with military ideas of discipline. Like myself, he had been in the field much of the time while the payment was going on, but had officially vouched for its correctness and signed all the papers, and he took his stand

upon this. He remonstrated with me for my position in the matter, and did his best to avoid an investigation. But I was convinced that a gross fraud had been committed, and in my inexperience I believed that it had only to be exposed and to be corrected. I determined to do all in my power to secure justice for those poor, helpless people, even though it must appear that I was careless in signing the original papers.

I added my protest to that of others, and the department sent out a Quaker, an inspector whose record was excellent, and who went about the work in a direct and straightforward way. He engaged a reliable interpreter and called in witnesses on both sides. At the end of a fortnight, he reported that about $10,000 had been dishonestly withheld from the Indians.

A few of the better educated and more influential, especially mixed bloods, had been paid in full, while the old and ignorant had lost as high as 15 or 20 percent of their money. Evidence in support of this decision was sent to Washington. After a short interval, I learned with astonishment that the report of this trusted inspector had not been accepted by the Secretary of the Interior, who had ordered a second investigation to supersede the first. Naturally, the second investigation was a farce and quickly ended in whitewashing the special payment.

the next step was to punish those who had testified for the indians or tried to bring about an honest investigation in the face of the official opposition of these i have been perhaps the most active and outspoken the usual method of disciplining agency indians in such a case is to deprive them of various privileges possibly of rations also and sometimes to imprison them on trivial pretexts. White men with Indian wives and missionaries may be ordered off the reservation

as disturbers of the peace. While with government employees, some grounds are usually found for their dismissal from the service. I was promptly charged with insubordination and other things, but my good friend, General Morgan, then Commissioner, declined to entertain the charges, and I, on my part, kept up the fight at Washington through influential friends and made every effort to prove my case, or rather, the case of the people, for I had at no time any personal interest

in the payment. The local authorities followed the usual tactics and undertook to force a resignation by making my position at Pine Ridge intolerable. An Indian agent has almost autocratic power, and the conditions of life on an agency are such as to make every resident largely dependent upon his good will. We soon found ourselves hampered in our work and harassed by every imaginable annoyance.

My requisitions were overlooked or forgotten, and it became difficult to secure the necessaries of life. I would receive a curt written order to proceed without delay to some remote point to visit a certain alleged patient. then before i had covered the distance would be overtaken by mounted policemen with arbitrary

orders to return at once to the agency on driving in rapidly and reporting to the agent's office for details of the supposed emergency i might be rebuked for overdriving the horses and charged with neglect of some chronic case of which i had either never been informed or to which it had been physically impossible for me to give regular attention. This sort of thing went on for several months, and I was finally summoned to Washington for a personal conference. I think I may safely

say that my story was believed by Senators Dawes and Hoare, and by Commissioner Morgan also. I saw the Secretary of the Interior and the President, but they were noncommittal. On my return the same inspector who had whitewashed the payment was directed to investigate the strained relations between the agent and myself and my wife who had meantime published several very frank letters in influential eastern papers was made a party in the case i will not dwell upon the

farcical nature of this investigation the inspector was almost openly against us from the start and the upshot of the affair was that I was shortly offered a transfer. The agent could not be dislodged, and my position had become impossible. The superintendent of the boarding school, a clergyman, and one or two others who had fought on our side were also forced to leave.

We had many other warm sympathizers who could not speak out without risking their livelihood. We declined to accept the compromise, being utterly disillusioned and disgusted with these revelations of government mismanagement in the field, and realizing the helplessness of the best-equipped Indians to secure a fair deal for their people. Later experience, both my own and that of others, has confirmed me in this view.

Had it not been for strong friends in the East and on the press, and the usual boldness and disregard of personal considerations with which we had conducted the fight, I could not have lasted a month. All other means failing, these men will not hesitate to manufacture evidence against a man's or a woman's personal reputation in order to attain their ends. It was a great disappointment to us both to give up our plans of work and our first home, to which we had devoted much loving

thought and most of our little means but it seemed to us then the only thing to do we had not the heart to begin the same thing over again elsewhere i resigned my position in the indian service and removed with my family to the city of saint paul where i proposed to enter upon the independent practice of medicine end of chapter eight