H. B. Cushman and George Catlin

I've been spending most of my time working on my book, which is more about family history than Chickasaw History, so I haven't had as much time to spend on this blog. Sorry.  

In a way though I enjoy the writing I do for the blog more than my book because I can pick out a subject and go into detail about it. With the book, I have to refrain from going into too much detail so as not to interrupt the flow of the story. Anyway for now I'd like to share something I read recently in a book, History of the Choctaw, Chickasaw and Natchez Indians by H. B. Cushman. 

Cushman's father and mother were missionaries to the Choctaws and the Chickasaws during the 1820's in Mississippi. He was born in the Choctaw homeland, and grew up among the Indians. Cushman's parents' missionary activities were ended by the Removal, but he maintained contact with some of the tribal members who managed to stay in Mississippi and when he grew to manhood he moved to Texas and lived across the border from the Chickasaw and Choctaw Nations. 

Cushman's book is refreshing because unlike many writers of the time he really admired his Indian friends, even to the point of idealizing them, a fact that the editor of the book apologizes for. Frankly, I think that Cushman's praise for the Indians hardly makes up for the many other writers of that time as well as our own, who criticize and patronize them.  

Cushman ends his book with a quotation from George Catlin, who possessed a kindred spirit. I was not very impressed with Catlin as an artist when I first saw his work. Some of it seems almost amateurish. It was only later that I learned that Catlin was primarily interested, not in creating great art, but in documenting the culture, history and customs of the American Indian. He was actually an attorney by training who gave up a comfortable life to travel among the Indians, writing, sketching and painting.

                                    George Catlin, by Wlliam Fisk, 1849

Catlin endured great hardships in his quest to learn about the Indians. One example is a trip he made with General Henry Leavenworth in 1832 into the western plains of Indian Territory. The expedition was poorly planned, an arrogant and foolhardy attempt by Leavenworth to impress the Indians with the might of the U. S. Army. In the end the Indians were more impressed by the Army's incompetence. An Indian hunting party finally took pity on the soldiers and led them to a large settlement of Wichitas where the soldiers were given food and shelter until they could make their way back to Fort Gibson. 

Many in the party, including General Leavenworth, lost their lives during the expedition of 1832. The following is a quotation from Catlin's journal entered during the trip back to the fort:  

A... sighs and groaning are heard in all directions... From day to day we have dragged along, exposed to the hot and burning rays of the sun, without a cloud to relieve its intensity or a bush to shade us, or anything to cast a shadow except the bodies of our horses. The grass, for a great part of the way, was very much dried up, scarcely affording a bite for our horses: and sometimes for the distance of many miles, the only water we could find, was in stagnant pools, lying on the highest ground, in which the buffaloes have been lying and wallowing, like hogs in a mud-puddle. We frequently came to these dirty lavers, from which we drove the herds of buffaloes, and into which our poor and almost dying horses, irresistibly ran and plunged their noses, sucking up the dirty and poisonous draft, until, in some instances, they fell dead in their tracks - the men also sprang from their horses, and ladled up and drank to almost fatal excess, the disgusting and tepid draft, and with it filled their canteens, which were slung to their sides, and from which they were sucking the bilious contents during day.@ (Pioneer Days, by Grant Foreman, P 148) 

After their return to Ft Gibson, Catlin wrote: ASince the very day of our start into that country, the men have been continually falling sick, and on their return, of those who are alive there are not well ones enough to take care of the sick. Many are yet left out upon the prairies, and of those that have been brought in and quartered in the hospital, with the soldiers of the infantry regiment stationed here, four or five are buried daily@ (Pioneer Days, by Grant Foreman,  P 151).  

Catlin was not deterred by this horrendous experience. He continued travelling across the country eventually visiting over fifty different Indian tribes. Afterwards he lectured extensively about the American Indian throughout the United States and Europe, illustrating his talks with sketches and paintings. He also recorded his observations in a two volume work entitled Manners , Customs and Condition of the North American Indian, illustrated by 300 engravings. About 600 of Catlin's paintings and 700 of his sketches have been preserved in the Smithsonian Museum.  

Here is George Catlin's characterization of the American Indian as quoted by H. B. Cushman:

Have I any apology to make for loving the Indians?

The Indians have always loved me, and why should I not love the Indians?

I love the people who have always made me welcome to the best they had.

I love the people who are honest without law, who have no jails and no poor houses.

I love the people who keep the commandments without ever having read them or heard them preached from the pulpit.

I love a people who never swear; who never take the name of God in vain.

I love a people who love their neighbors as themselves.

I love a people who worship God without a Bible, for I believe that God loves them too.

I love a people whose religion is all the same, and who are free from religious rows.

I love a people who have never raised a hand against me or stolen my property, where there was no law to punish for either.

I love a people who never have fought a battle with white men except on their own ground.

I love and don't fear mankind where God has made and left them, for they are children.

I love people who live and keep what is their own without locks and keys.

I love all people who do the best they can, and, Oh! How I love a people who don't live for the love of money. 

History of the Choctaw, Chickasaw and Natchez Indians, by H. B. Cushman. P 476. 

In 1838, hearing of the poor health of the Seminole Chief Osceola, George Catlin rushed to Florida where the great man was near death and languishing in prison. Osceola arose from his bed, donned his ceremonial dress, and posed as Catlin painted this last portrait of him for posterity. See blog post of Oct 26, 2010, Removal: Seminoles,

                                      Osceola, by George Catlin, 1838

St. Elizabeth's Academy

As I mentioned in my previous blog post, after my mother Wenonah got permission to go to school at Bloomfield, my Aunt Kaliteyo begged to go away to school too. She didn't want to go to Bloomfield though, but rather to St. Elizabeth's.  

                                          Kaliteyo Paul Willingham

Mildred McClure, Wenonah and Kaliteyo's cousin, had been attending school at St. Elizabeth's, and she had been telling Kaliteyo how much she enjoyed it there. 

(Footnote: Mildred McClure's grandfather was Tecumseh McClure - see previous posts.) 

I'm sure that it was hard on Grandmother to let Kaliteyo go away to school. She had always been sickly, and she must have been afraid that she would come down with something at the school. Kaliteyo was determined though, and Grandmother finally gave in.  

St. Elizabeth's Academy was in Purcell, Oklahoma, about as far north of Pauls Valley as Bloomfield was to the south. Like Bloomfield, it was a school for Indian girls, and while it wasn't as old as Bloomfield, it also had a colorful history. It was founded by the Order of St. Francis, which sent three nuns to the Chickasaw Nation in 1888 to establish a school. The church and school buildings were built by Benedictine priests who lived nearby.  

                                           Sister Katherine Drexel

The project would have certainly failed had it not been for the efforts of Benedictine priest Vincent Jolly, who taught at the Sacred Heart Academy in Pottawatomie County. He had heard about the work of Sister Katherine Drexel, a nun from a wealthy Philadelphia family who was using her fortune to fund schools in Indian communities. Father Jolly convinced Sister Katherine of the need for schools for the Indians in Oklahoma, and for the next sixty years St. Elizabeth's was supported by Sister Katherine's generosity. 

Sister Katherine was an outspoken advocate for oppressed Native Americans and African Americans. She financed more than 60 missions and schools throughout the south and southwest, as well as Xavier University of Louisiana, the only historically black Roman Catholic university in the United States. She also founded a religious order, the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, composed mainly of Indian and Negro nuns. In 2000 she was canonized and became the second American born saint.  

St. Elizabeth's started as a coeducational school, but by the time Aunt Kaliteyo went there in 1926 it was for girls only. Kaliteyo loved the nuns, and she also must have been popular among the other girls. Kaliteyo's best friend at St. Elizabeth's was Tula Mae Graham, a Choctaw girl from Purcell. She said that she and Tula Mae entertained the other girls after lights out by imitating their teachers. 

Some of the nuns at St. Elizabeth's had been at the school since before statehood. One of the sisters told the girls about how she had stood on a hill near the convent and watched the big land run of 1889.  

Piano lessons were among the classes offered at St. Elizabeth's, and the girls were assigned time during each day for practice. I don't know if Kaliteyo got very good at playing the piano, but she certainly enjoyed herself. My mother said that the lady who played the piano for the high school glee club in Pauls Valley used to bounce up and down on the piano stool as she played. She  was a bit overweight, so the spectacle was funny to the girls. Kaliteyo liked to mimic her, and one day she was doing her imitation at St. Elizabeth's when one of the sisters came into the room. Kaliteyo said that the sister laughed with everyone else, but she made her stop.  

Kaliteyo's favorite story about St. Elizabeth's was about her friend Tula Mae trying to smuggle apples up to her room. There were some apple trees on the school grounds, and when the apples began to get ripe the girls were told not to pick them. Tula Mae and Kaliteyo wanted to take some of the apples up to their room, but they were always supervised when they were outside. Finally Tula Mae got an idea. The girls dressed very modestly in long dresses with bloomers under their skirts so Tula Mae stuffed some apples down into her bloomers during recess. Everything went well until she started back to class. As she joined the line of girls filing back to class, the draw string on one leg of her bloomers came loose and the apples began falling out. As she walked by, one of the nuns noticed the trail of apples behind her and got tickled. The nun was trying to be stern, but Kaliteyo said the girls could tell she was laughing by the way her belly shook.  

Kaliteyo got through the year at St. Elizabeth's without getting sick, which must have been a relief to Grandmother, and when the summer vacation was over she asked to go back for a second year. She always treasured her memories of St. Elizabeth's, and when her daughter Lahoma was about eight, she sent her to St. Elizabeth's day school. Lahoma enjoyed her time there too, and she had some of the same teachers as her mother.  

Footnote: See blog post of Oct. 5, 2011, The First Chickasaw Princess.

Lahoma enjoyed St Elizabeth=s like her mother had before her. My mother told me about visiting her once at an open house at the school. As Lahoma showed her around, excited to have a visitor, she told her about a nun whom she especially liked, and as they were walking across the school grounds, Lahoma suddenly exclaimed, AThere she is,@ and she rushed over to where the nun was standing, pulling my mother along behind her. As they came up to her, the nun turned around and Lahoma=s face fell. She turned to my mother and said, AThis is the wrong one.@ The nun just laughed.  

St. Elizabeth's struggled through the depression and through the war years, but in 1948, with dwindling funds and falling enrollment, its doors were closed for the last time.

                          St. Elizabeth's Academy, Purcell, Oklahoma

Bloomfield Academy, 1926 - 1927

Introduction: This post is an excerpt from the book I'm writng about my mother, Wenonah. I'm writing it in her voice, and although I'm not nearly as good with words as she was, the stories are as close as I can get to the way she told them. She told me about her experiences at Bloomfield over and over again. She was proud of having been a student there. The excerpt is a little long for a blog, but I couldn't figure a way to split it into smaller bites. I've put in a few explanatory comments in parentheses.

For anyone interested in a more comprehensive history of Bloomfield, I highly recommend Amanda Cobb Greetham's book, Listening to Our Grandmothers' Stories.

                           Bloomfield

During the summer of 1926, while Snip was campaigning to be elected to the state legislature, a lady from the Indian Field Service came to visit Mamma and Pappa. Her name was Mrs. Reeder. She had come to talk to them about sending one of us to the Bloomfield Academy, a Chickasaw boarding school for girls in Ardmore, Oklahoma.

(Snip was the family's nickname for one of my mother's older brothers, Homer Paul. He was elected to the Oklahoma State House of Representatives in 1926, and at the time was the youngest man ever elected to the House. He was 21.) 

Mrs. Reeder made a good impression on Mamma and Pappa. She told them that Bloomfield had high standards, and that in addition to academic subjects they taught manners, etiquette, and "industrial arts," which including laundering , sewing, gardening, dairying, and housekeeping. Mrs. Reeder also emphasized that the school gave young Indian girls an opportunity to be with others who shared a common heritage. She and her husband were both Chickasaw, and their two daughters, Julia and Sophia, attended the school.  

After Mamma and Pappa had talked with Mrs. Reeder for a while, they asked me to come in and meet her. She asked me if I would be interested in going to a school for Indian girls, and I was thrilled to death. I was tired of feeling different from the other girls in Pauls Valley, and the idea of going to a school for Indian girls sounded too good to be true. In fact I was so excited that Mamma had to calm me down. I remember her telling me, "Jim, Indians are just like anybody else. They're just people." Pappa was tickled at the way I reacted, but he didn't seem as impressed with the idea of my going to an Indian boarding school as Mamma was. I guess he was remembering his own boarding school days. Mamma and Pappa didn't push me either way though. They let me decide, and I told them I wanted to go.  

Of course the other thing I was thinking about was Grandpa. He was living in the old soldiers' home in Ardmore, and I imagined that I could visit him whenever I wanted.

(My mother's grandfather was a veteran of the Confederacy and in 1926 he lived at a Confederate veterans' home in Ardmore. My mother was his namesake - her first name was James, and she was his favorite among the grandchildren. She adored him.) 

When Kaliteyo found out about the plan, she begged Mamma to let her go to St. Elizabeth's, another Chickasaw girl's school located in Purcell. Bloomfield only went to the eighth grade, but St Elizabeth's went all the way through high school. Our cousin Mildred McClure, Iman's daughter, attended St. Elizabeth's, and she had told Kaliteyo all about it. Kalteyo told Mamma that if I got to go away to school she should be able to go too, so it was settled. We both went to boarding schools that year.

(Kaliteyo was my mother's older sister. Iman McClure was Pappa's first cousin, and they were very close. His father was Tecumseh McClure - see other blogs which mention Tecumsey McClure.) 

While Kaliteyo and I were waiting for school to start, we tried to get Pappa to teach us some Chickasaw words. He spoke the language fluently - he used to speak it with Iman and Uncle Buck - but he refused. He just laughed and told us it wasn't important. Finally we got him to teach us to count to ten: chufa, tuklo, tuchina, oshta, tulhapi, hunali, ontuklo, ontukchina, chukali, pokoli.   

When the time came to leave home, Mamma packed my trunk. I got to take my roller skates and my ukulele, and Mamma made me two new dresses. One was a nice dress for special occasions. Mamma had embroidered flowers on the front of it, and there was a sash that hung down the back. The other dress had a checkered pattern and was nice, but was more of an every day dress. The only problem was that Mamma gave me orders to wear union suits under my pretty dresses. I liked to never got out of those union suits.

("Union Suits" were long handled underwear.) 

On the day we left for school, I hugged and kissed everybody goodbye, and Willie drove me down to Bloomfield. After the matron signed me in, Willie left, and I started to feel alone. I was still excited about getting to visit Grandpa though, and that kept my spirits up.

(Willie was my mother's oldest brother. He stayed at home and helped support the family instead of getting married or going to college.) 

That evening after supper Mrs. Hill, the matron, took me back to the main residential building where I would be living, and started telling me the school rules. One of them was that I wouldn't be allowed off campus, except for an official school activity.  

I asked her if that meant I couldn't go visit Grandpa, and she said that it did. Well that did it for me. I told Mrs. Hill that if I couldn't go to see Grandpa I wanted to go home. I cried and demanded that she call my mother. When she refused, I cried all the harder. She tried to get me to go upstairs to bed, but I wouldn't budge. I demanded that she call Mamma. After much pleading on Mrs. Hill's part and crying on mine, I finally agreed to go upstairs, but only if I could talk to the school superintendant the next morning.  

Even after agreeing to stay, I still didn't want to go upstairs. At that point Mrs. Hill began to insist. I still remember my trip up the stairs. I would take a step up and then turn around to go back, and Mrs. Hill would slap my bottom. Then another step and another slap, all the way up the stairs.  

In the morning Mrs. Hill was true to her word, and she took me in to see the superintendant, Miss Allen. I remember that meeting like it was yesterday. Miss Allen seemed to tower over me. I met her years later and she was actually a small woman, but at the time she seemed like a giant. Miss Allen listened patiently as I explained to her that the only reason I had agreed to come to Bloomfield was so I could visit my Grandpa, and since I couldn't, I wanted to go home. Miss Allen was very kind. She told me that my mother had sent me there to go to school, and that she would want me to stay. She asked me to just try it out for a month, and then if I still wanted to go home she would call my mother.    

(Eleanor Allen was superintendent of Bloomfield for 15 years. She maintained high standards for the school, and seemed to my mother at least to be wise and compassionate.) 

Miss Allen's strategy worked. I had settled down a little anyway since the night before, and although I was still upset, what she said made sense to me, so I agreed to stay for a month. I was home sick, but I also enjoyed going to school and being with the other girls. Mamma wrote me letters, and Willie sent me a little sewing basket filled with candy.

                                      Sewing basket, 1926

Every Friday was letter day, and we were all required to write a letter home. Some of the girls complained about writing letters and said that the teachers told them what to write, but I looked forward to letter day. Here's a letter I wrote to Mamma on Valentine's Day, 1927. It was sent to her along with my grades:  

Mother this the report for January. I am getting along just fine. I couldn't write you last Sunday because I couldn't get a stamp. But I will write next Sunday if I can get a stamp. Your Loving Daughter, Wenonah Paul.

Bloomfield was a beautiful school. Everything was neat and clean, and the buildings were well maintained. There was a lake out in front of the main building with an island in the center of it. There was a stage on the Island, and we put on plays and musical performances there.

Cement walkways connected the buildings on the Bloomfield campus, and there were pergolas over the walks covered by pretty flowering vines. Sometimes we were allowed to rollerskate on the walks, so I got to use my roller skates. Ardmore seemed to have a milder climate than Pauls Valley. It never got very cold or very hot there, and it didn't snow all winter.   

My room was in the main building. The little girls stayed there, and also the girls who only spoke Chickasaw or Choctaw. The hospital was also in the main building so the school nurse, Mrs. Wright, worked there. She was Choctaw and since the Chickasaw and Choctaw languages are almost the same, she could talk to all the girls who didn't speak English. 

I really wanted to learn to speak Chickasaw, but the school was trying to force the girls to use English, so they had a rule against speaking an Indian language. There was an old Chickasaw man who did maintenance work around the school who taught me a few words though, and I learned more from the other girls on laundry day. The mangle in the laundry room made a lot of noise, and we would hide behind it and speak Chickasaw. I still remember a few words they taught me, like chukma - hello, and minti - come here.  

That was one of my jobs, to work in the laundry room. The girls did most of the maintenance work at Bloomfield, and we were each assigned to work details. In addition to the laundry, there was clean up, kitchen duty, gardening, gathering eggs, and milking. Only the older girls got to milk the cows. They were called "milk maids," and they got to wear white smocks. I wanted so much to be a milk maid. Later I got the job of milking our cow at home. I should have been careful what I wished for. 

Every month the school published a newsletter, and I still have one of them. It is dated March 27, 1927:  

It begins with an editorial by one of our teachers:  

We are glad to welcome springtime again for with it comes the sweet perfumed flowers and the happy birds. Everywhere life bursts forth in all its beauty. Joy and happiness are everywhere. Yet it is not only earth's springtime but it is the springtime of life for our Bloomfield girls. It is the best and happiest time of their lives. They should try and realize this fact and cultivate in this springtime of youth those things which will enable them to grow into beautiful and useful women. 

Jewell Crummey 

There's an article in the newsletter about US marines being sent to China to protect American citizens from rioting there. Other articles announce plans to enlarge the classrooms and to expand the junior high to include the ninth grade the coming year. Events mentioned include a guest speaker who spoke about Japan and its people, a school dance, and an inspirational talk by a representative from the YWCA. 

Here's an article about Bird Day: 

On March 19th, we had a splendid Bird Day Program given under the direction of Miss Roberts and Mrs. Risser. The entire program was about birds and their help to man. The girls who took part in the play wore bird masks and costumes which made them look very real. There were robins, bluebirds, crows, and owls. Two toads in costume proclaimed themselves as great helpers of man also.   

a report about the school garden:

Gardening has been progressing very well this month. Each eighth grade girl made a garden of her own in which she has planted twenty five different kinds of vegetables. These plants are nearly all well above the ground. The other classes have also worked at planting so that Bloomfield has a garden it can be proud of.  

and a project by the eighth grade girls to redecorate their rooms: 

The eighth grade girls under the direction of Miss Owens, our Home Training Teacher, have completed redecorating their bedrooms. Their first step was to select the color scheme to be used in each room. The varnish was removed from the furniture and it was sandpapered before painting. They have given the walls and woodwork two coats. The floors have been covered with linoleum. The girls have made all the room furnishings including window curtain draperies, bedspreads, dresser scarfs and floor pillows. We expect an invitation to a "house warming" before long.

Ernestine Trout 

There were also articles about visitors, religious activities, illness - some of the girls had measles, news about the girls' families and news from other Chickasaw - Choctaw schools.  

Finally there was the list of girls on the honor rolls for academic and industrial classes. I was on both. I even made a good grade in arithmetic.  

One girl from each dormitory was chosen as nurse to report any girls who were sick, and to help out the school nurse, Mrs. Wright. I was the nurse for my dormitory, and I was very proud of my position. Since the school nurse's office was in my building, I got to help her more than the others did. One of my jobs was to help in processing new students when they first came to school.

After each new girl enrolled, they were required to take a shower and to put on clean, freshly laundered clothes. I was supposed to take each girl to the shower room for her shower, and to check her hair for lice. I felt very important performing this duty, especially since some of the new girls were older and bigger than me. Mrs. Wright gave me a fine toothed comb and a clean white towel. I was to run the comb through the girls' hair, put it on the towel, and then take it straight to Mrs. Wright. I remember how anxious I was to get rid of that towel. 

Since I lived in the main building where the hospital was located, I saw all the girls who were sick. There was one girl I remember who was weak and emaciated when she first came to the school. Mrs. Wright tried to make sure she ate good food, but she continued to get weaker. Finally a doctor from Ardmore was called in to see her.  

The little girl still didn't improve. Then one day an old man came walking up the road. He was the little girl's grandfather, and he was also a tribal healer. The old man had walked all the way from his home. He spoke with Mrs. Wright and then he went in to see his grand daughter. He stayed a long time. When he left I watched him walk back up the road until he was out of sight. The little girl started improving after that, and she finally recovered.  

Health was an important part of Bloomfield's curriculum, and the state of our health was reported monthly to our parents along with our performance in class. The health report included our weight at the beginning and the end of each month, hours of sleep, hygiene, exercise, diet - we were supposed to drink one pint of milk each day along with a helping of fruit, a green leafy vegetable, and six glasses of water.

                                 Bloomfield Health Report, 1927

It was at Bloomfield that I got interested in singing. We had a glee club there and everyone participated. It was one of my favorite classes.   

The cooking and sewing classes at Bloomfield were a challenge for me. I hadn't learned much from Mamma about either except for the little bit of crocheting she taught me when I was sick. My worst grade was in sewing. Our project in sewing class was to make a dress, and the teacher ended up doing most of the work for me. Then there was cooking class. I remember our class on baking a cake. We were supposed to whip the egg whites and then >fold= them into the batter. The other girls all knew what to do, and I remember how horrified they were when I just dumped the egg whites in and started stirring. I did finally learn to fold in egg whites though, and when I came home in the spring Mamma let me bake a cake for the family. I still have the little cook book I made at Bloomfield, and in it is the recipe for that "Standard Cake."

                            Bloomfield Cook Book, 1927

We had a class in basket weaving too. We learned to soak reeds in water to make them pliable and then weave them into baskets. At the end of the year we planted flowers in our baskets and took them home. My flower was a narcissus.  

On May Day we got to go to a park in Ardmore on an outing.  The highlight of the trip was the slide. It was huge, and instead of going straight down, it had a ripple on it. Some of the older girls came prepared with bread wrappers from the bakery for us to sit on to make us go down faster, and they really worked. We got to going so fast that we actually flew up into the air when we went over the ripple.

It wasn't long after that last outing in the park that the school year was over. Snip came to get me, driving his big brown Packard, and I was so glad to see him. I never thought I'd be glad to see Snip. He sat with the parents and watched the school's final presentation for the year, a May Day Festival. I was especially excited because I had been chosen to play the role of Queen of the May.  

The play was performed on the island in front of the main building with the parents sitting around the edge of the lake. The girls were dressed in costumes representing the animals of the forest. They danced around the May Pole holding colorful streamers, and then I was crowned. I wore the pretty dress Mamma had made for me, and a crown of flowers. After the play, we gathered up my stuff: my roller skates, my ukelele, the sewing basket Willy had sent me, my basket with the narcissus planted inside, and my cookbook, and Snip took me home. On the way home he told me that I had done a good job, and that he was proud of me.   

It was so good to be home! Mamma said she was proud of me too. She was especially pleased with my manners, how I said yes ma'am and no ma'am. She even let me help her out with the cooking. Bob and Kaliteyo teased me and started calling me the 'Queen of the May,' but I was glad to see them anyway.  

I didn't go back to Bloomfield the next year. I could have gone there for another two years, and then on to Chilocco for high school. Mamma would probably have let me, but I had just been too homesick. I'm sorry now that I didn't go back. I really felt like I belonged there.

As it was, I came back from Bloomfield a different girl. I was even more proud of my Indian heritage than before; I had developed some manners and domestic skills, and I was ahead of my Pauls Valley classmates academically. That year at Bloomfield was probably what enabled me to graduate from high school a year early.

                                           Bloomfield Academy, 1940

Bloomfield Academy 1852 -1939

My mother attended the Bloomfield Academy for Chickasaw and Choctaw girls in the 20's, and even though the history of Bloomfield is not all good, it is a bright spot in our nation's history, and something for us to be proud of.

Bloomfield was founded by a Methodist Missionary named John Harpole Carr, who together with his wife founded the school in 1852. The original location of Bloomfield was near Achille, Indian Territory, right across the Red River from Denison, Texas. The Chickasaws had not yet won their independence from the Choctaws in 1852, but they had control of their own funds, so they appropriated money to match the support given by the Missionary board for the school.

Reverend Carr was a carpenter, and he built the original buildings for Bloomfield himself, and he also operated a farm to supply food for the students and teachers. The name Bloomfield came from Jackson Kemp, a former Chickasaw Chief, from a letter he wrote to Carr in 1852. Carr was camped in a field of wild flowers at the time, working to construct the school's buildings. His letter was addressed simply to Rev. John Carr, "Bloomfield."

Bloomfield was confiscated by Confederate troops during the Civil War, and the school was shut down, but after the War it was reopened and its operation was taken over by the tribe. From then until the tribal governments were abolished by the Curtis Act in 1898, the school flourished.

The goals set by the tribal legislature were that the education at Bloomfield should "be carried on in a manner that would reflect honor on the Nation, besides conferring a lasting good upon the rising generation … and in their belief we ask the help and support of every sober thinking mind of our country. Let us inaugurate schools that will elevate our children to an equal footing with our white brethren."  

Footnote: Listening to Our Grandmothers' Stories, by Amanda Cobb Greetham 

The tribe established high standards for Bloomfield from the start. Enrollment was capped at 45 and only one child per family was allowed to attend. Students had to be able to read and write before they were admitted. Full bloods were recruited for Bloomfield, and students were given a subsidy of $10 per month so that even poor students could attend.

Future Chickasaw Governor Douglas Johnston was superintendant from 1882 until 1896. The students at Bloomfield were known as the Bloomfield Blossoms, and they received an education equal to that of any women in white society. The Chickasaw Nation provided the school with an excellent library. The curriculum included logic, chemistry, astronomy, botany in addition to more traditional reading, writing, arithmetic, geog, grammar, history, physiology, rhetoric, government, philosophy, American literature, composition, mythology, and latin. They also received instruction in art, painting, piano, guitar, mandolin, violin, banjo, and singing. The school had an orchestra, a glee club, a literary society and a basketball team. The girls received a diploma on graduation and were authorized to teach in any tribal school. Bloomfield became known as Bryn Mawr of the West.

 After the Chickasaw government was abolished in 1898, Bloomfield came under the control of the federal government even though it was still supported by Chickasaw funds. Bloomfield was transformed from a finishing school into a trade school. The government's goals for Indian schools were to prepare children for trades, and to erase their Indian identity. Speaking the Chickasaw language was forbidden. The passage of the Dawes Act was celebrated as a holiday, and the girls put on patriotic plays, and sang patriotic songs. The number of grades was cut to 8, and the curriculum was altered to include domestic arts, cleaning, gardening, animal care, and nutrition. Students were required to maintain the school grounds.  

Federal administration of the Chickasaw estate was corrupt. The first federal Superintendent of Indian Schools, John Benedict, was so clever in managing tribal funds that by the time he was fired for incompetency he had amassed enough of a fortune to start his own bank.   

Footnote: And Still the Waters Run, Angie Debo. P 66.

For a while, Indian families refused to send their children to the new schools and Bloomfield was closed for a while. In 1917 it was reopened with a new administrator, Eleanor Allen, who followed the federal mandates but reestablished high standards for the school. She remained superintendant until 1936, and it was during her tenure, in 1926 - 7, that my mother was a student there.   

Chickasaw Education Under the White Man

      

                           Chilocco Indian Agricultural School
                                            1882 - 1980

Ever since before the Removal, there were many white people who abhorred the mistreatment of the Indians: the invasion of their territory by land hungry settlers, the violation of their treaties, the failure of the government to provide education. The list was long. Many religious groups, philanthropists, and other well meaning white citizens sympathized with the Indian.  

Before the Removal, Thomas McKenney, a deeply religious man, served as Commissioner of Indian Affairs. He advocated for the Indians education and integration into white society, but faced with the onslaught of settlers and the hostility of state governments, he eventually recommended the Indians' Removal. After the threats of the treaty commissioners had failed, McKenney approached the Chickasaw with respect and words of persuasion:  

Brothers - Whilst then you cherish a sacred remembrance for the bones of your Fathers, forget not to provide for your children, and never stop a moment, but hasten with all speed to place them in a situation that will secure them against the evils that your Fathers endured … This Brothers is Wisdom. The past I know has been cloudy and dark enough, but, brothers, be not discouraged. The Great Spirit will yet open your way. 

Footnote: The Chickasaws, Arrell Gibson, P 166 - 167

McKenney purported to understand the Chickasaw and to know what was best for them, but to me his words still sound like a threat, and they sound patronizing. But he didn't really understand. He wasn't evicted from a homeland where his people had lived for hundreds of years. And he wasn't part of a culture of which the land was an integral part. His words didn't move the Chickasaws either. They waited another 12 years before signing the Treaty of Doaksville with the Choctaws agreeing to remove to Indian Territory as a last resort.  

From the end of the Civil War in 1866 until the passage of the Curtis Act in 1898, a period of about 30 years, the Chickasaws and the other Five Civilized Tribes governed themselves, and they developed an education system for their children equal or superior to that of any state in the west. The Chickasaw Nation operated neighborhood elementary schools, several "academies," which were the equivalent of high schools, and each year they sent 60 to 100 students away to college. By 1880 the literacy rate among the Chickasaw was 60%.

Footnote: The Chickasaws, Arrell Gibson, P 281

Meanwhile, the other tribes were at the mercy of the federal and state governments. President Grant, who appointed Quaker missionaries as his Indian agents, also formed three cavalry regiments to subdue the remaining plains Indian tribes. General George Custer was one of the Civil War officers who volunteered to help accomplish this mission. The government had decided that the land in the west, once considered useless for settlement, was still too good for the Indian. So the soldiers rounded up the tribes, confined them to reservations, and turned their education over to the Quakers. 

During the time after the Civil War there was a resurgence of interest in the welfare of the Indians. Groups such as the Womens' National Indian Association, The Indian Rights Association, and The Friends of the Indian met, discussed the Indians' problems, sent out teams of investigators, and made recommendations. President Grant appointed many of these leaders to a Board of Indian Commissioners which advised him on how to deal with the Indian "problem." His Commission decided that Indians should be taught English, religion, farming and trades to make them self sufficient. Then they were to be given allotments of land and their annuities ended. This would end the expense of the reservations, and make available huge tracts of land for white settlement. There would be no more need for conflicts and treaties with Indian tribes. The Indians would be successfully integrated into "white" society.

For all their good intentions, all that these benevolent groups did was provide the government with a rationale for what they intended to do already: destroy the Indians' tribal bonds, their age old cultures, and their basic beliefs, in order to give their land to white settlers. The various groups, the Friends of the Indians, and others, continued to meet, blaming the Indians' troubles on mishandling by the government, but they all ended by endorsing the government's programs.

The irony of all this discussion about what was in the best interest of the Indian was that never was an Indian included in the discussion. Really. It wasn't until the 1970's that President Richard Nixon, recognizing that the Native American culture still survived, and that the government still had an obligation under the old treaties, proposed a new Indian policy under which the Indian tribes themselves could be authorized to administer federal
programs for their own benefit, but back to the 1800's.

Footnote: The Great Father, Paul Prucha, P 364. 

The government's plan involved separating the Indian children from their families in order to immerse them in white culture. In 1840 the government, in partnership with the Methodist Church, established a boarding school in Kansas for Indian children called a manual labor academy. It was modeled after similar schools in Europe which were designed to teach poor children to accept their station in life. Children from many tribes including Shawnee, Delaware, Kansas, Peoria, Potawatomie, Wyandot, and Ottawa were taken from their homes and sent to this and other boarding schools. This type of school was to became a model for Indian education for almost a century.
Listening to Our Grandmothers' Stories, Amanda Cobb-Greetham.

The idea was to separate the children from their parents and from their cultures, to teach them to speak English, and to accept white cultural values. The boys were taught farming and trades and the girls were taught domestic skills. Ezra Hayt, Commissioner of Indian affairs in 1877 summarized the so called benefits of these schools:

the exposure of children who attend only day schools to the demoralization and degradation of an Indian home neutralized the efforts of the schoolteacher, especially those efforts which are directed to the advancement of in morality and civilization.

The Great Father, Paul Prucha, P 233.

By 1890 there were 7000 Indian children in boarding schools, often far away from their homes. By 1900 it was clear that the boarding schools were a failure. Many were run like reform schools, using the Indian children as free labor, without teaching them anything useful. As soon as they were able, the children returned to their homes. It wasn't until 1928 that a study was done condemning Indian boarding schools. It showed that the schools were providing poor diets, and inadequate medical care. They were overcrowded, underfunded, and they provided poor education with too much emphasis on labor. The study, the Meriam report, led to some reforms, but not to the end of the schools.

The study's recommendation was that Indian children be integrated into public schools.  This practice, which had actually been going on for some time, started receiving government support, but it was a failure before it started. The Indian children faced prejudice and social isolation, and became underachievers and dropouts.

My grandfather, William H. Paul, and his brother, Smith W. "Buck" Paul, were educated mainly in white schools even though they completed their schooling before the Curtis Act abolished the Chickasaw government in 1898. An early
history of Oklahoma described my grandfather's education:

Receiving the rudiments of his education in the schools of White Bead, Wm H Paul subsequently continued his studies at the Tishomingo Academy, under the instructions of Judge Benjamin Carter, at Savoy Texas, at Austin College, and at Sherman Texas.

From what my mother told me, Uncle Buck went to the same schools as my grandfather.

Footnote: The History of the State of Oklahoma, Luther B  Hill, 1910.

These schools were run by white men. My grandfather's father, Sam Paul, was very progressive in his thinking, and he believed that the Chickasaws' future lay in integration into the white culture. That's the reason my grandparents met. They both attended a subscription school together in Pauls Valley. My grandmother's father had come west from Georgia after the Civil War and settled in Indian Territory, possibly at the invitation of my great grandfather Sam Paul, who actively recruited white settlers to come into the area.

My grandfather and his brother were sent to boarding schools for much of their education. My mother said that her father told her that he and Buck ran away several times, only to be taken back to the school by their father, Sam Paul. They must have attended one of the Chickasaw boarding schools, because the boys were all Indian, and my grandfather described how difficult it was for those who couldn't speak English, which was forbidden, even then. He liked to tell the story of a young Chickasaw boy who wrote a letter home to his parents. The boys' were required to write only in English. The boy was trying to tell his parents about one of his classmates who got a fatal case of diarrhea from eating green apples. His letter came out: "Little boy, green apple, shoot the shoot, dead."

The other story my grandfather told about his boarding school education concerned a teacher, who was a white man and apparently treated his Indian pupils with contempt, calling them "little Indian pups." When my great grandfather Sam Paul found out about this he caught the teacher on his way home from school, pulled him from his horse and whipped him with his buggy whip. As my grandmother used to say: "If you don't like Indians you shouldn't be living in Indian country," but this was before the Curtis Act.  

Even though my grandfather and his brothers faced prejudice, they were educated during the time of Chickasaw sovereignty, and they each got the equivalent of a college education. As long as the governments of the Five Civilized Tribes were able to control their own education system, they provided their young people with the opportunity to become educated and to compete with the white settlers who were coming to the Territory in increasing numbers.


          

Bloomfield Academy, 1900

Many Indian boarding schools survived well into the 20th century and my mother attended one of them, the Bloomfield Academy for girls in Ardmore, Oklahoma. I'll share some of her experiences there in my next post.

Chickasaw Education, the Golden Age, 1867 - 1898

For information about Chickasaw education during earlier periods see posts of Jan. 16, and Jan. 29, 2012.

        

                                        Mississippia Paul Hull

During the Civil War Chickasaw society was disrupted, and the Nation's schools were closed. The Chickasaw Nation officially supported the Confederacy, but many wanted no part of the white man's war. Soon after the war started, the Confederate army took over Indian Territory and occupied Fort Arbuckle. My great great grandfather Smith Paul had the foresight to move away from the fort before the war started. He moved west, into the vicinity of what is now Paul's Valley. As my great aunt Sippia put it:

Just before the war broke out he had made a trip to the locality and realized that it was a wonderful place for farming. Very soon he had a home built for us, it was of hewed logs. The house was built of single rooms but close together …. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, the friendly plains Indians came around the locality where my father had his farm. They were the Comanches, Caddos, Apaches, Cheyenne, Osages, and I think some Delawares. One mixed band located at Cherokee Town, another on my father's farm, a band of Osage across the river, and a band of Caddo Indian under old lady White Bead, five miles up the river. And the government realized that they must do something with and for these Indians, so they appointed my father as an agent, to issue them rations. This was one reason that my father did not have to go to war.  

So Smith Paul was appointed by the Confederacy, as Indian agent supplying rations to the plains Indians living the vacinity of his farm.

My great great grandmother Ela Teecha's older children, Tecumseh McClure and Catherine Waite, along with Ellen's brother Ja-Pawnee, went to Kansas with their families during the Civil War. They stayed with the Sauk and Fox tribe which remained unaffiliated with either North or South.

Aunt Sippia described her life during the war between the states:

During the Civil War we had to spin and weave all of our cloth, to make our clothes, and knit our hose. I was anxious to do what everyone else did and they let me, although I was only about nine years old, I wove enough cloth to make me a dress, even though it looked rather knottie, they made me a dress out of it. The cotton from which we spun the thread had to be picked from the seeds with our fingers, we usually did this work at night. The pecans grew in this locality in great abundance as they do today, and we ate nuts and picked the cotton off the seeds and my mother would tell us Indian legends. We learned by putting the cotton down by the fire and getting it warm, it was much easier to get the seeds out. It was during those early days that a man came through the country with what he called a miniature gin, similar to a cloths ringer of today, and this helped us to get the seeds out faster. Of course people came in to see how it worked and everyone wanted to try and turn the handle and my brother, boy like turned it and broke the handle off. My mother used to make straw hats for the boys out of wheat straw and in the winter they would catch coons and she would make them caps out of the skins. My father would make us shoes out of cow hide, he could do a little of everything, but this was only in war times. How I disliked them, and how glad I was when we could buy shoes ready made.

This is the kind of practical education Aunt Sippia got during the war. I wish she we could hear some of the stories her mother told her.

After the Civil War, the Chickasaw government was reorganized, and under the leadership of Governor Cyrus Harris a new constitution was written outlawing slavery. In 1867, with $65,700 released by the federal government from the Chickasaw trust fund, the Chickasaw Nation established 11 neighborhood schools. In 1876 that number was increased to 23, and also four academies, Bloomfield for girls, Wapanucka coed, Chickasaw Male Academy, and the Lebanon Orphan school were opened. These schools were operated by Chickasaw citizens, and most of the teachers were Chickasaw. The Chickasaw government provided $3 per student per month for the neighborhood schools, $200 per student annually for students at the academies, and $350 per student per year for 60 to 100 students selected to pursue higher education in the states.

This period of Chickasaw independence has been referred to as the "Golden Age" of Chickasaw education. At this time the Chickasaw educational system surpassed that of all the other tribes, and that of the whites in neighboring states. By 1880 60% of Chickasaws could read and write. Bloomfield Academy was known as the Bryn Mawr of the West.

There were also missionary schools at this time. The Pierce Institute in White Bead, and Hargrove College in Ardmore were operated by the Methodists, and St. Elizabeth's Academy for girls was opened by the Catholic Church near Purcell.

Footnote: The Chickasaws, Arrell Gibson. P 280. 

In addition to the Chickasaw government schools and the mission schools, some Chickasaw communities hired their own teachers. Aunt Sippia told about her father hiring a teacher for her and her brothers after the war:

For quite a while after the war, we were the only settlers in this section of the country. My father hired us a private teacher. It was not easy to get teachers to come and live on this frontier, so our education was quite limited.

It was during this time that the federal government was forcing the plains tribes onto reservations. Ulysses S. Grant, the first President after the Civil War, was approached by representatives of the Quaker church asking him to let them establish missions on these reservations so they could convert the Indians. President Grant's response was:

If you can make Quakers out of these Indians it will take the fight out of them. Let us have peace.

Grant appointed many Quakers as Indian agents, and also missionaries from other denominations. The Quaker Laurie Tatum was appointed agent to the Comanches and Kiowas near Fort Sill, and my great aunt Sippia attended his school. Here is her description:

At the early age of sixteen I was married to Jim Arnold, a Texan, and one little girl was born to us, named Tamsie. After five years I was left a widow. Knowing they had a school for Indians at Fort Sill, I decided to go up there to school. I boarded with a Mexican woman who had been ransomed and married and raised a family. She was ransomed by a soldier by the name of Chandler who afterwards married her. I took my little girl along with me and Mrs. Chandler took care of her while I attended school. While I was there I met William Hull, an Englishman, who was employed to work for the government to work under the Indian agent Tatum. After he met me he decided to come down and live near my father. He was a professional blacksmith. This was on the main travel road of the freighters to Fort Sill and Fort Cobb. He accumulated quite a fortune at that business. Then we were married.

The practice by some of the plains tribes of taking hostages deserves some explanation. The Comanche, Wichita, Cheyenne and others would raid farms in what is now Texas - then Mexico - and take horses and hostages. They traded both among themselves, and often asked for ransoms for the hostages, usually children. Chickasaw hunters played a role in ransoming some of the hostages in those early days after the Removal. Some of the hostages were treated like slaves and some were accepted as members of the tribe. The mother of the famous Comanche Chief Quanah Parker had originally been a hostage. When given a chance to rejoin her white family, she chose to remain with the Comanche. See my post of 2/12/2011, Nadua, Cynthia Ann Parker

Back to Aunt Sippia's story:

The school I attended in Fort Sill was under the supervision of the Quakers. Of course I attended their church, it all seemed strange to me, for when they went in the church they usually sang a song first, then they sat and waited for the spirit to move them. Sometimes someone would pray or talk and then again there were times when no one would either talk or pray, they would sit quietly for a while and then leave.

While my father was not such a religious man he realized that we must have the uplifting influence of having the gospel preached. So he hired a preacher by the year by the name of E. Couch from Texas, to preach to us regularly every Sunday, he made his home with us. By that time there were more people living in this part of the country but miles and miles apart, but they would come to this service and my father and mother always arranged to have a splendid meal for the entire congregation, as that was one of the pleasant occasions that we looked forward to. Then later my father built a frame church himself, having the lumber freighted from Atoka. J.M. Hamill, Superintendent of Colbert School and pastor at Ft. Arbuckle also preached to us.

The Colbert School was one of the original Chickasaw Academies. It was a boys' school.

It is remarkable to me how these people, with their own culture and traditions, so recently uprooted from their homeland and having to rebuild their society on the frontier, had the desire and the foresight to see the value of education in preparing their children to compete in white society. Aunt Sippia sent her oldest daughter Tamsie to Liverpoole, England. to school. I don't know much about the education that Tecumseh McClure provided for his children, but his sister Catherine went to great lengths to educate hers. Fred Waite, her oldest son was sent to finishing school in Bentonville Ark.. He later attended Illinois Industrial University in Champaign, Illinois, and Mound City Commercial College in St Louis, Mo. Fred Waite later became Attorney General of the Chickasaw Nation. Fred's younger brother Amos was also educated in the East, and he returned home to start the first subscription school in Pauls Valley in about 1890. Subscription schools were private schools for which parents paid a fee for their children to attend. Catherine Waite also educated her daughters. After her husband's death in 1874 she moved with her younger daughters to Oberlin, Ohio, so that they could attend college there.

        

                   Thomas and Catherine Waite and Three of Their Daughters