Indian Ball Games

 

                                        Choctaw Ball Player, by George Catlin, 1834

 

 

I apologize for neglecting my blog site. Three of our children have come through town with their families so we have been enjoying visiting with them. I have been spending whatever writing time I have had to post on the Lone Tree Hiking Club Facebook site, trying to drum up interest in our club, and also to work on my book, which I'm beginning to think will never be finished.  

I could post several more entries about the Furniture Catalogue, which continues to fascinate me, but I thought I would get back to the Chickasaws instead. My daughters have recently visited the Chickasaw Culture Center down in Sulfur Oklahoma, which is worth a visit for anyone, whether a history buff or not. It looks like there have been several additions to the experience there since I visited it a couple of years ago.

For one, there have been several buildings added to the Chickasaw village. Also there was a craftsman making flutes. He also had drums, bows and arrows display. He let the kids accompany him with rattles and drums while he played the flute. I hope I get to see his display sometime. I've always been fascinated by the making of arrowheads out of flint stone. I tried when I was a boy, but was a miserable failure. I think it involves heating the stone and then dropping water on the edges. Maybe some day…

The other thing the kids got to see was an Indian ball game. They took a video and it showed both men and women playing. The men use sticks but the women can use their hands. There was only one goal in the demonstration, a pole with the image of a bird on top. The object was to hit the bird with the ball.

The game of stickball has a colorful history. It was originally called the "little brother to war" by the southeastern tribes who played the sport for recreation and also sometimes to settle disputes between tribes. The ball is a little larger than a golf ball and is made of cow or deer hide. Each player has two sticks with a cup on one end. The object of the game is to trap the ball between the sticks and carry or throw it through the goal posts. The French copied the game and called it Lacrosse because of the resemblance of the sticks used to a bishop's crosier.

In the old days teams were blessed and refereed by the tribes' medicine men. The goals were set about a mile apart and there were hundreds of players. About the only rule was that the players had to use the sticks to move the ball. Weapons were left on the sidelines, but players could use their bodies or their sticks to hit each other. Tackling, tripping, and hair pulling were allowed. Fights between individual players were tolerated, but other players were not allowed to interfere. Serious injuries and even death occurred.

Women also play ball, but they use their hands instead of sticks. A ball game between men and women of the Creek tribe was described by Major Ethan Allen Hitchcock in his memoir, edited by Grant Foreman, and published as "A Traveler in Indian Territory." According to Hitchcock, the women were winning in the game he watched.

Fans have always been enthusiastic in Indian ball games. In a game between the Chickasaw and Choctaw tribes in 1903 a fight broke out among the fans and the Lighthorse (Indian) Police had to be called in to break it up.

The famous western artist George Catlin was a Indian ball fan, and he attended games whenever he could. He wrote a detailed description of a game that is quoted on the Chickasaw Nation website in an article by Robert Perry. 

Indian ball or stickball is still played and although serous fights and attempts to injure an opponent are penalized, it is still much like the old game. I saw a game when I was nine or ten and it was really violent. Opponents hit and tackled each other and hit each other's sticks to knock the ball loose. I'll never forget it. 

I found some video of Indian stickball on YouTube. It shows excerpts from several games, and you can see what an exciting, challenging game it still is. See "Real Choctaw Stickball."

                          Choctaw Ball Play Dance at Skullyville, Indian Territory, 1834

                                                          George Catlin

 

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

The Comanche

                                   Comanche Horsemanship, George Catlin

          To begin with, I want to acknowledge that I'm no expert on the Comanche. I've only come across a few bits of information about them over the years, but what I've learned fascinates me. In my last post I told the stories of Cynthia Parker, who, kidnapped by Comanches as a child, grew so attached to them that after she was "rescued" she begged to return, and the story of her son, Quanah Parker, who transformed himself from the leader of the most feared band of Comanche warriors, to a successful rancher, respected by his neighbors and friend of President Theodore Roosevelt.

          Lately I've been rereading some excerpts from the journal of Captain R. B. Marcy who spent 30 years stationed on the frontier in the early 1800's. His descriptions and his understanding was not from the Comanche perspective, which makes a difference, but he did sympathize with the Indians, and he was fascinated by the Comanche.

          The following excerpt from Marcy's journal describes the horsemanship of the Comanche. I first read it several years ago and it still amazes me. He first describes the horsemanship of the Comanche brave:

          He is in the saddle from boyhood to old age, and his favorite horse is his constant companion. It is when mounted that the Comanche exhibits himself to the best advantage: here he is at home, and his skill in various manoeuvres which he makes available in battle - such as throwing himself entirely upon one side of his horse, and discharging his arrows with great rapidity towards the opposite side beneath the animal's neck while he is at full speed - is truly astonishing.

          Even more amazing is Marcy's description of the display of skill of two young Comanche girls that Marcy witnessed himself:

          Many of the women are equally expert, as equestrians, with the men. They ride upon the same saddles in the same manner, with a leg upon each side of the horse. As an example of their skill in horsemanship, two young women of one of the bands of Northern Comanche, while we were encamped near them, upon seeing some antelopes at a distance from their camp, mounted horses, and with lassos in their hands set off at full speed in pursuit of this fleetest inhabitant of the plains. After pursuing them for some distance, and taking all the advantages which their circuitous course permitted, they finally came near them, and - throwing the lasso with unerring precision, secured each an animal and brought it back in triumph to the camp. 

          Every time I see a herd of prong horned antelope standing by the road, I think of this story. Once or twice I've stopped the car and walked toward these beautiful creatures and watched as they loped easily away, launching themselves like arrows through the air. It's hard to imagine running one down on a horse, let alone lassoing one. Certainly, of all the animals I've seen, they are the fleetest of foot. 

          Marcy went on to describe the nomadic life of the Comanche, their simple needs and their dependence on the buffalo for food shelter and clothing. He told how their chiefs were chosen for bravery and skill in battle, and were quickly removed for any display of cowardice or poor judgment.

          In spite of the Comanches' reputation for ferocity in battle, Marcy described them as being

… hospitable and kind to all with whom they are not at war; and on the arrival of a stranger at their camps, a lodge is prepared for him, and he is entertained as long as he chooses to remain with them. They are also kind and affectionate to each other, and as long as anything comestible remains in the camp, all are permitted to share alike.

          Marcy continues to describe the hospitality of the Comanche, relating an experience of his own:

          The manner in which they salute a stranger is somewhat peculiar, as my own reception at one of their encampments will show. The chief at this encampment was a very corpulent old man, with exceedingly scanty attire, who, immediately on our approach, declared himself a great friend of the Americans, and persisted in giving me evidence of his sincerity by an embrace, which, to please him, I forced myself to submit to, although it was far from agreeable to my own feelings. Seizing me in his brawny arms while we were yet in the saddle, and laying his greasy head upon my shoulder, he inflicted upon me a most bruin-like squeeze, which I endured with a degree of patient fortitude worthy of the occasion; and I was consoling myself upon the completion of the salutation, when the savage again seized me in his arms, and I was doomed to another similar torture, with his head upon my other shoulder, while at the same time he rubbed his greasy face against mine in the most affectionate manner; all of which proceeding he gave me to understand was to be regarded as a most distinguished and signal mark of affection for the American people in general, and in particular for myself, who, as their representative, can bear testimony to the strength of his attachment. On leaving camp, the chief shook me heartily by the hand, telling me at the same time, that he was not a Comanche, but an American; and as I did not feel disposed to be outdone in politeness by an Indian, I replied in the same spirit, that there was not a  drop of Anglo-Saxon blood in my veins, but that I was wholly and absolutely a Comanche, at which he seemed delighted, duly understanding and appreciating the compliment.  

          In spite of his patronizing tone, I enjoyed reading Marcy's description of the old chief's attempt to make him feel welcome.

          Marcy lamented the effect on the Comanche of the extinction of the buffalo, which was approaching rapidly in 1853, the date of his report. Thousands of buffalo were being slaughtered every year,

          …for their skins, and often for their tongues alone; animals whose flesh is sufficient to afford sustenance to a large number of men are sacrificed to furnish a 'bon bouche' for the rich epicure….It is only eight years since the western borders of Texas abounded with buffaloes; but now they seldom go south of Ted River, and their range upon east and west has also been very much contracted within the same time; so that they are at present confined to a narrow belt of country between the outer settlements and the base of the Rocky Mountains. With this rapid diminution in their numbers, they must in the course of a very few years become exterminated. What will then become of the prairie Indian, whom as I have already remarked, relies for subsistence, shelter, and clothing, on the flesh and hide of this animal. He must either perish with them, increase his marauding depredations on the Mexicans, or learn to cultivate the soil. 

(The above descriptions by Captain Marcy are taken from a report he submitted to Jefferson Davis, Secretary of War for the United States, in 1853. See Advancing the Frontier, by Grant Foreman, Chapter 16.)

Gunpandama

Wun-pan-to-mee (the white weasel), a girl; and Tunk-aht-oh-ye (the thunderer), a boy; who are brother and sister. As described by the artist, George Catlin, the two are Kioways (sic)who were purchased from the Osages, to be taken to their tribe by the dragoons (with whom Catlin was traveling in the 1830s-1840s.).

          In the Smithsonian museum there are several buffalo hides inscribed with pictures, pictures of warriors, pictures of soldiers. These hides represent a sixty year history of a band of Kiowa Indians living in western Indian Territory during the early 1800's. One of these hides contains the image of a severed head with a knife sticking into it. On the section of hide representing the following year is the figure of a small girl. That girl's name was Gunpandama.  

(George Catlin recorded the young lady's name as Wun-pan-to-mee but the U.S Bureau of Ethnology spells it Gunpandama.)

          During the migration of the Five Civilized Tribes to Indian Territory in the 1830's there were several failed attempts by the United States' Army to negotiate peace with the dozens of Indian tribes already occupying the area.

          In an attempt to prevent trouble for the migrating Choctaws, two expeditions were sent out in 1832 by the commanding officer of Ft Gibson, Col Matthew Arbuckle, to make contact with the hostile plains Indians. The first group under Captain Jesse Bean was accompanied by the author, Washington Irving, who chronicled the expedition in A tour of the Prairies. The soldiers encountered only friendly tribes, and had to turn back less than halfway into their journey because of winter.

          Later that same year, Col Arbuckle sent another contingent of troops up the Red, Washita and Canadian Rivers, to drive the Comanches and Wichitas west, and to invite their chiefs to come to Ft Gibson where they might be impressed by the power of the United States. The Indians were evidently not impressed. The only contact made by the troops was when a band of Indians rode up and kidnapped one of the rangers, George Abbay. The troops were unable to catch the Indians although they pursued them for 12 days. The soldiers finally ran out of food and had to turn back. The expedition lasted for 54 days. For the last 30 days the men subsisted solely on buffalo meat. 

          In addition to the problem of the western plains tribes, who were not only raiding the Choctaws in the southern part of Indian Territory and plundering with impunity caravans headed west to Santa Fe, there was also a threat to the immigrant tribes in the north, the Osages. The Osage tribe, as I mentioned in my post of 1/1/2011, had been lured into the Arkansas River valley by fur traders during the previous century. Recently the fur trade was waning, and not only that, the Osage were being pushed off their land because U. S. commissioners, due either to ignorance or thoughtlessness, had promised it to the immigrant tribes, the Creeks and Cherokees. The Osage people were starving so they took to raiding Creek and Cherokee farms to feed themselves. The federal government reacted by withholding their annuity, which only increased the problem. 

          In addition to these blunders, the areas promised to the Creek and Cherokee tribes overlapped, so another team of commissioners was sent to revise the treaties and to resolve this three way conflict. This was how Washington Irving came to be invited to go with Captain Bean's expedition. He had come to Indian Territory with one of the commissioners to learn more about the Indians. 

          When the three tribes met, the Osage leaders received no concessions from the commissioners. After hearing the news, a party of warriors, frustrated and furious, rode west over the prairie to take out their fury on their old enemies the Kiowas. After travelling over a hundred miles they came across the trail of a Kiowa hunting party. They followed the trail back to the Kiowa village, and then in a fit of unreasoned rage, massacred all the women, children, and old men that they could catch, and cut off their heads. Kiowa warriors pursued the Osage, but lost them during a heavy rain storm. The Osage returned to their homes with 400 horses, one hundred scalps, and two captives: a twelve year old girl named Gunpandama, and her ten year old brother, Tunkahtohye.

          It's hard to understand this reaction by the Osage, but they were facing a crisis that threatedned their very existence, and they could see no solution. They could no longer live by hunting and trading, and their warriors felt that farming was beneath them, so while they were friendly with the white traders and missionaries who had come to live among them, they still carried on their warlike ways. The Kiowas were also a warlike tribe, and they might have done the same thing to the Osages if they had an opportunity. Also the Kiowa had recently massacred a white trading party, and perhaps the Osage felt that the white soldiers would be grateful to them for avenging their fellow countrymen. The Osage chief Clermont boasted that he never made war on the white man, but never made peace with his Indian enemies. He was following his code.

          Soon the young girl, Gunpandama, faced another tragedy. When the Osage war party returned, and the community around Ft. Gibson became aware of their rampage, one of the traders, Hugh Love, bought Gunpandama and her brother from the Osage with the idea of returning them to the Kiowa in exchange for a trading agreement. Before the two children could be returned however, Gunpandama's brother was killed in a freak accident.  

          The frontier artist, George Catlin, painted the two children before the tragedy. The painting, now displayed at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington, shows the little boy and his sister with her arm affectionately around him. Catlin wrote in his journal: "The fine little boy was killed at the fur trader's house on the banks of the Verdigris near Ft. Gibson, the day after I painted his picture. ….He was a beautiful boy of nine or ten years of age, and was killed by a ram, which struck him in the abdomen, and knocking him against a fence, killed him instantly."