Uinta County WY Archives History - Books .....Chapter Nineteen Indians 1924
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Book Title: Uinta County, Its Place In History

CHAPTER NINETEEN 
Indians

    The Indians most closely associated with western Wyoming were the Shoshones.
As a race, they are connected to the Utes and Piutes, who have settled to the
south of them, but are of a higher order of physical and mental development than
these root-eating relations. On the other hand, they are quite distinct from the
Arapahoes, their neighbors on the north, with whom they seldom intermarry, as
each looks down upon the other with true tribal pride and prejudice. The
Shoshone is more reticent and has been slower in following the lead of the white
man in accepting religious teaching, but he possesses in a marked degree the
virtues of sincerity and faithfulness. [1]

[1] Bishop Talbot, "My People of the Plains."


    In appearance the Shoshones are of medium height, supple and alert. Poligamy
is common among them, but they are, as a rule, true to their ideas of virtue.
The squaws are treated with good-natured indifference, and children are the
objects of great interest to men as well as women. When young, the women are
often graceful and comely, but they grow fat and shapeless with advancing years.
They are generally clothed in articles discarded by the men, and present a
shabby appearance, except for their lower limbs, which are always neatly encased
in leggins and moccasins. Hands and feet are slender and well formed. They are
skillful in bead work, and take pride in decorating their papooses, as well as
in lavishing much time on the adornment of their lords and masters, whose bodies
they paint 'in fantastic designs with mineral-colored clay. The hair of the men
hangs down in a thick braid on either side of the face, with a scalplock twisted
on the top of the head, through which an eagle feather is stuck. The blanket is
their favorite garment, but in every modern group may be seen a great variety of
clothing, ranging from overalls and cotton shirts to more modish attire.

    Besides bead work, the women excel in the painting of tanned hides, which
are often quite elaborate, depicting stories of the chase and other adventures
by means of simple illustrations most interesting to decipher.

    Language and traditions point to the Hindu origin of the Shoshones. The
Supreme Being was to them "Our Father", instead of the "Great Spirit", and death
a pilgrimage to the land beyond the setting sun, where they were to be
incarnated into some other form of animal life, according to the deeds done in
the body. Their native custom was to wrap their dead in skins and deposit them
in caves or clefts between the rocks, with a generous supply of material things
for the journey into the unknown. If the departed was a chief, many horses were
killed for this purpose. Mourning, consisting of from three to-five days of loud
lamentation, was a part of the funeral rites. Of late years they have buried
their dead, and an interesting part of the ceremony is a procession around the
open box or coffin, when all who wish well to the departed take his hand in a
last friendly clasp. [2] It is the custom to put on the grave the tepee,
bedstead or stretcher in which the Indian died, and the Indian graveyard looks
not unlike the back yard of a junk shop.

[2] Marion Roberts, in Wyoming Churchman, 1917.


    Every three years there was a gathering of all the scattered bands of the
tribe at the Grand Encampment. It was an occasion for the hunting of game and
wise laws were enforced against killing more than could be used. Buffalo was the
favorite game. The chosen animal was first hamstrung by a mounted Indian with a
flat spear, and then killed by the huntsmen. Squaws to the number of about
fifteen gathered around and removed the hide first from one side, from which
they then cut the meat, and when the body had been turned over by horsemen by
means of ropes attached to the feet, they treated the other side in the same
manner. The meat was cut up into thin slices and taken to the wickiups to dry.
When it had hung a few hours the pieces were taken down and put between two
stones and pounded until tender, after which they were again hung up. [3]

[3] Wilson, "Uncle Nick Among the Shoshones."


    The great religious festival of the Shoshones was the Sun Dance. The tribe
was called together about the 20th of June, and immediately began to collect
poles for the dance hall. After a large number had been gathered they selected
the longest and painted three black bands near the top. These were calld [sic]
"wish rings". The pole was set up in the center of a cleared space and other
poles were set around. Branches of trees formed the walls and the roof.

    Those who coveted a special boon, whether health, success in battle, or
other gift of the Sun God sufficiently to enter this strenuous test of physical
endurance, assembled on the evening of the first day. Their bodies were painted
white, and in two ghastly processions they marched twice in opposite directions
around the hall. That night they rested, and the next morning at sunrise,
painted in bright colors, each man wearing a beaded apron, a band of porcupine
quills about either wrist from which hung a rabbit's foot, and with a cluster of
jingling bells attached to the ankles, they reassemble. In one end of the hall
sit the musicians, both men and women, beating tom-toms and raising a monotonous
chant. For three days and nights, without food or drink, and with only short
intervals of rest, the dancers, with their eyes fixed upon the wish rings, move
forward and back, keeping time to the music. Each morning at sunrise the
medicine man raises his voice in a prayer song, the dancers approach the central
pole, rub their rabbit feet against the wish rings, and the dance is resumed. At
noon of the fourth day the din of the tom-toms gives place to silence, and those
who have not already been overcome by exhaustion stagger from the hall.

    At sunset came the feast, which had been prepared by the women, and there
was a time of great rejoicing. Gifts were exchanged, men giving away their
choicest possessions, horses, cattle, and even their wives. Such prodigality
often resulted in great suffering, until the government stepped in and forbade
the Sun Dance. A petition has been made on the part of the Indians to allow it
in the future, and they promise to be more temperate, both as regards physical
strain and gifts.

    Another dance of the Shoshones was the Buffalo Dance, which was more like a
game. In this the women, attired in sagebrush aprons, played the part of
buffaloes. At a given signal they ran into the sagebrush, and the men pursued
them with shouts and hilarity. When all were captured they returned to the
tepees for a feast. [4]

[4] Morris, "Wyoming Historical Collection," Volume 1.


    The chickadee is revered among the Shoshones for its wisdom. The gopher, on
the other hand, is dreaded as an omen of ill luck. Their arch enemy is a demon
by the name of Nininbe, who is supposed to live in the mountains, lying in wait
to shoot them with invisible arrows, which are the source of all their diseases.
The Medicine Man makes use of the fear incited by this evil spirit to exault his
own power in counteracting its influence. Fortunately, he often resorts to other
remedies than incantations, such as sweats, baths and poultices. Bandages soaked
in strong sage tea are often used in case of blood poisoning, and seem to have a
beneficial effect. [5]

[5] Wilson, "Uncle Kick Among the Shoehones."


    During Dr. Harrison's life in South Pass he had a thrilling experience in
Indian warfare. The Arapahoes were committing depredations around the rnining
camps, and John Anthony, who had considerable ability as an organizer, formed in
each of the three mining camps, South Pass, Atlantic City, and Miners' Delight,
companies to march against them. On finding that the Indians were gathered on
the Wind River, they started out one day in April. That night they camped on a
small tributary of the stream and about midnight were aroused by Indians, whom
they succeeded in driving off without bloodshed. The next morning they started
in pursuit and overtook the Indians on Wind River. There were about five hundred
of them, and Chief Black Bear was in command. A fight ensued in which both he
and his squaw were killed, and their two children, a girl of ten and a boy of
eight years of age, were taken captive. Captain Coolidge was in command at Fort
Brown, and he adopted the boy and gave him a good education. Under the influence
of Mrs. Coolidge the boy developed the desire to become a Christian missionary
to his people, and in the course of time he entered the ministry of the
Episcopal church. He married Miss Grace Weatherby, a gifted and highly educated
lady from New York City, and spent many years on the reservation near Lander. He
is now canon of St. John's Episcopal Church at Denver, Colorado. The fate of the
little girl was less fortunate. She was taken to the home of a man in South
Pass, who later sold her to John Felter for $100. She was known in Evanston as
Julia Felter.

    No name among the list of Shoshone Indians stands out so prominently as that
of Washakie, and it may be said that of all Indians he worked most consistently
for the good of his people. He was born in 1804, became chief at the age of
nineteen, and was the leader of his tribe for nearly eighty years. They were the
years of the greatest Indian troubles through which the country ever passed,
when the white men, often through force of necessity, often from selfish
motives, were steadily encroaching on the hunting grounds of this once
independent people. Of all mountain chiefs, he alone could be relied upon to
stand by his given word. Well did he deserve the title bestowed upon him by
General Conner, "The Friend of Peace."

    Washakie's mother bore his father four children, one girl and three boys,
all of whom, save Washakie, met an early death. In an interesting book written
by Elijah Nicholas Wilson, we learn many facts concerning the life of the tribe
and his particular family. The author ran away from his home in Utah when a
little boy, and was made a member of the Shoshone tribe. Washakie became his
adopted brother, and his mother gave him the place of a son in her kind heart.
He says Washakie was most considerate of his mother, and heartily approved of
the way the white boy strove to lighten her burdens, but that he was powerless
when it came to influencing other boys to do likewise. Washakie had several
wives, and a large number of children to whom he was deeply attached. The tragic
circumstances connected with the death of his eldest son have made it celebrated
(in song and story. In 1866 the tribe was returning from a buffalo hunt in the
Big Horn Basin, and on the Sweetwater they were attacked by Sioux, who had
followed them across the Shoshone trail. Washakie's men charged the enemy, and
while the chief was standing over the body of a Sioux whom he had killed his
eldest son, Nannanggai, rode up. The father taunted him with cowardice, saying:
"I, an old man, have killed this Sioux, and you, like a squaw, come up after the
fight." This so roused the youth that he charged alone, and fell within sight of
his father. The Shoshones say he spent the night in mourning, and that when
morning came his hair had turned snow-white. [6]

[6] J. A. Breckens, "Wyoming Historical Collections," Vol. 1.


    The affairs of the tribe were in the hands of a council made up of its
wisest men, presided over by the chief. Next in importance seems to have been
the "war chief", who looked after the diplomatic relations with outsiders. When
word was brought by the Pocatello Indians that the whites were about to make
trouble because of the Shoshones keeping Dick Wilson, it was this chief who
conducted the negotiations resulting in the boy going back to his parents. With
a party of mounted Indians bearing buffalo skins and furs, he set out on the
beautiful horse that the Indians had given ham for Salt Lake. He was firmly
resolved to return the next spring, and meant to spend the rest of his life
among the people who had been so kind to him, but life had other things in
store, and he never saw his dear "old Indian mother" again.

    Washakie was five feet ten inches in height, and was well built and
commanding in appearance. The similarity of his features to those of Henry Ward
Beecher has often been remarked. We are fortunate in having a variety of
pictures of him taken by our pioneer photographer, Charles Baker, and these show
him in all manner of dress, from the Indian war bonnet and gorgeous blanket to
the unlovely calico shirt and jeans. He was a familiar figure on the streets of
Evanston in the '70s. One summer day in 1875 a band of his trecked into a vacant
lot on the south corner of Center and Seventh Streets. The braves were, as
usual, mounted on well-kept Indian ponies. The women had ridden on long poles
covered with skins and blankets that were fastened to either side of the horses,
and they and the papooses seemed no worse for their dusty ride. Washakie was the
central figure and attracted unusual interest because of his remarkable
headgear. He wore a wide-brimmed sombrero adorned with a surprising ornament of
a silver coffin plate, on which were engraved the words "OUR BABY". He had not
robbed a grave for it, but got it from the son of an Evanston furniture dealer,
who carried a supply of coffins, Enil Faust, to whom he had given a bow and
arrow in exchange. [7]

[7] The author was an eye witness to this scene.


    Washakie was a welcome guest in many homes. He possessed a natural dignity
that commanded respect His disdain for the Arapahoes was shown in many ways, one
of which was the manner of greeting their chiefs. Instead of shaking hands, as
with an equal, he would coldly extend two fingers, keeping the other fingers
clenched, which was the Indian way of showing distrust. [8]

[8] Dr. Harrison.


    Many are the stories told of Washakie, He was a personal friend of General
Grant, and was highly honored by all the army officers who knew him. Mr. Baker
tells of seeing him once in a stovepipe hat that had been presented to him by
President Arthur on a trip to Fort Bridger, where he met the chief. It was
adorned with eagle feathers, and the wearer consented to be photographed in it,
but unfortunately the film met with an accident, and we have no copies of it. On
one of Mr. Baker's visits to the tribe he found Washakie in much anxiety over a
son who was very ill. A medicine man was in attendance, and his treatment when
the youth lapsed into unconsciousness was to spray the face with water squirted
from his mouth. As often as he succeeded in reviving the patient, Washakie
presented him with a pony. At the end of some hours the young man breathed his
last, and the medicine man went away richer by twenty horses.

    Being a good Indian does not mean having the same standard as a white man.
When Washakie was called to account by United Sttaes [sic] officials for the
murder of his mother-in-law, he shrugged his shoulders and asked: "What can do?
She no mind me!" [9]

[9] Judge Gibson Clark.


    The family of Samuel Blackham of Evanston recall the excitement of a dinner
party at their home in which Washakie was the guest of honor. Mr. Blackham could
converse with the chief in his native tongue, and sat down at the table with the
party embracing the chief's three wives and several children. Mrs. Blackham had
prepared a fine chicken dinner, and she and the little daughters, who shyly
withdrew to the corners of the room, watched with interest their strange guests.
Washakie, who had picked up many of the customs of the white men, plied his
knife and fork with ease, and sternly rebuked his family when they lapsed into
the native custom of using fingers. At the close of the meal to which the guests
had done ample justice, great was the surprise of the hostess to see them pack
into bags brought along for the purpose every scrap and crumb that was left on
the table. The failure to do this would have been in their estimation a slight
on the hospitality of the host.

    There were many such interesting experiences, and yet to the residents these
summer visitors were not an unalloyed pleasure. The dusky faces peeping in
unexpectedly at open windows, the outstretched hands and the demand for "cold
bisikee, papoose hungry," were not to be disregarded with safety. Mrs. Thomas
Johnson, who lived in Almy in the early '70s, tells of having to bake a great
batch of small loaves of bread each day during their long stay near their ranch,
in order to supply the Indians as well as her own family. One day she missed
Jack, her three-year-old son, who had been playing in sight of her kitchen
window, and gazing anxiously down the valley she descried a moving band of
Indians. Looking more closely her eye caught in the receding mass a patch of red
which she identified as her child's red waist. Mrs. Johnson was an expert with a
gun, but without stopping to get it she started on the run after the Indians. In
telling the story she said: "I was that mad that I could ha' killed three
Indians wi' my bare hands." She overtook them within a half mile, and they
sullenly handed back the little boy to his irate mother.

    In the summer of 1872 a large band of Shoshones was encamped on Yellow
Creek, about three miles west of Evanston. There were more than a thousand of
them who had come in squads of twenty or more, their heavily loaded tepee poles
dragging behind the horses in the dust, and making a well-marked trail over the
hills. A man by the name of Dick Blundell had built a house on land he had taken
up near the Almy wye. Toward sunset of the day late in August as he was
returning from town to his home, he overtook a well-mounted Indian brave, and a
good-natured debate arose as to who had the better horse. It was proposed to
settle the matter by a race, and they set off neck and neck. On nearing his home
Blundell instinctively turned his horse in order to avoid a telegraph line that
had been strung between two poles to serve as a clothes line. The Indian,
ignorant of this obstruction, dashed into it, was caught by the wire just below
the chin, and fell to the ground with a broken neck, while his frightened pony
galloped on toward the camp. A hasty glance convinced Blundell that the red man
was dead, and in fear that the Indians would trace the fatality to his door and
accuse him of murder, he made for town as fast as his horse could travel. The
news that a "big Indian" had been killed spread quickly, and in fear that
revenge might be taken on the town, men gathered in groups to plan for
resistance. Darkness settled over all. Suddenly there rose on the evening air
the plaintive notes of the death song. Its shrill and piercing notes accompanied
by the rythmic beat of the tom-toms, gathered in strength and penetrated every
nook and crany in the valley, receding and advancing with the changing currents
of air. For hours it rose and fell, then came silence and the tenseness of
expectancy. Slowly the night passed, and when, in the light of early morning, a
reconnoitering party was sent out to Yellow Creek, they found the ill-fated
camping ground deserted. Whether the Indians surmised the cause of the death of
their companion was never known, but as far as the white man was concerned there
were no further results of the tragedy.

    These wards of the government were allowed to ride free of charge on the
Union Pacific trains, and the platforms between cars were assigned to them. It
was a curious sight to see them peering out from their enveloping blankets at
the growing civilization that was slowly but surely supplanting the wild life of
their earlier days.

    It may not be generally known that Evanston was once honored by a visit from
Madame Bernhardt. One summer afternoon in 1884. the train on which she was
traveling westward was tied up by a landslide, and the "Divine Sarah" passed
some very interesting hours near the station, not in her usual role of
entertainer but, for once, as the entertained. A group of Shoshone braves
beguiled the time by performing various stunts of lassoing and riding, to the
great delight of the tragedian.

    In the courthouse in Evanston there is record of a treaty signed July 3,
1868, at Fort Bridger, which was at that time still part of Green River County,
Utah. It solemnizes the peace that was never broken between the United States
government on one side and the Shoshone and Bannock tribes on the other. It
assigns to the Indians their reservations and defines their rights and duties,
guarantees them schools, and specifies the supplies to which they are entitled.
Besides clothing and provisions each roaming Indian was to receive $10 a year,
and those engaged in agriculture $20. Among their rights was that of hunting "on
the unoccupied lands of the United States so long as game may be found thereon,
and so long as peace subsists among the whites and Indians on the borders of the
hunting districts." This clause is worth remembering, because of its bearing on
the future history of the Indians in Wyoming and the country in general. It is
signed by N. G. Taylor, W. T. Sherman, Lt Gen'l and five commissioners for the
United States, and by Washakie, his (X) mark, Waunipitz, his (X) mark, and six
other Shoshones, and by a like number of Bannocks. J. Van Allen Carter was the
interpreter.

    By this treaty the Wind River Reservation was given to these two tribes. In
1871 trouble between the Shoshones and the Bannocks resulted in the latter being
removed to the Fort Hall Reservation. The Arapahoes were allowed by the
Shoshones to share the land with them, and although they had been traditional
enemies, they have lived side by side in peace.

    The year of this treaty saw also the signing of the treaty between the
United States and the Sioux nation, but instead of a Washakie, that had to deal
with the treacherous Sitting Bull and Red Cloud, and its culmination was the
Custer massacre in 1876.

    Washakie was buried with military honors on the Wind River Reservation and
his grave was marked by a massive granite slab. He will always be remembered as
an example of fearless rectitude, and as one of nature's noblemen.


Additional Comments:
Extracted from:

UINTA COUNTY ITS PLACE IN HISTORY
ELIZABETH ARNOLD STONE
GLENDALE, CALIFORNIA, U. S. A. 
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY

A History of the Original Uinta County, Wyoming, and its Subdivisions

To the dear memory of my father,
Rev. F. L. Arnold


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