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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 180
SYMPOSIUM ON CHEROKEE AND
IROQUOIS CULTURE
EDITED BY WILLIAM N. FENTON
and
JOHN GULICK
U.S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE
WASHINGTON 3; 1961
PR ne i Sie he ee eee
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing Office
Washington 25, D.C. - Price $1.25 (paper)
PERE cata
Oe 7 fi ie Bs
Mi
SALE alauu ys = Waptsno mw faa
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION,
Bureau or American ETHNOLOGY,
Washington, D.C., December 28, 1959.
Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith a manuscript entitled
“Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture,” edited by William N.
Fenton and John Gulick, and to recommend that it be published as a
bulletin of the Bureau of American Ethnology.
Very respectfully yours,
Frank H. H. Roserts, Jr.
Dr. LEonarD CARMICHAEL, Director.
Secretary, Smithsonian Institution.
III
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. 22.
. 23.
CONTENTS
OTe wordy byatheveditors sways ea oy Nae Sal oe org
Iroquois-Cherokee Linguistic Relations, by Floyd G. Lounsbury --
Comment on Floyd G. Lounsbury’s “‘Iroquois-Cherokee Linguistic
velationssuebiy, Very Nel ace sali ehWnis Nel eee Mees Mele eee eel
Iroquois Archeology and Settlement Patterns, by William A.
1 BYOB) CK et Uc a PR al ie yale Ch a aE hae
First Comment on William A. Ritchie’s “Iroquois Archeology and
Settlement Patterns,” by William H. Sears__.__.____.________-
Second comment on William A. Ritchie’s “Iroquois Archeology
and Settlement Patterns,” by Douglas S. Byers
Cherokee Archeology, by Joffre L. Coe___.-____.__-__________-
Comment on Joffre L. Coe’s “Cherokee Archeology,’’ by Charles H.
Frain Da ralis se eee Bee nS ay fechas alpen eR Che
Eastern Woodlands Community Typology and Acculturation,
by ohm Wilt tho fie te a ae hoe eee agp loc RN Yan
Comment on John Witthoft’s “Eastern Woodlands Community
Typology and Acculturation,” by John M. Goggin. __----___-
. Cherokee Economic Cooperatives: the Gadugi, by Raymond D.
INoyeelicronay Gpovol, JerMODL IG UNRO OA Be ee eee
The Rise of the Cherokee State as an Instance in a Class: The
“Mesopotamian” Career to Statehood, by Fred O. Gearing_-_--
. Comment on Fred O. Gearing’s “The Rise of the Cherokee State
as an Instance in a Class: The ‘Mesopotamian Career’ to
Statehood.” by, Annemarie Shimony.-020 22222555 oe eae
. Cultural Composition of the Handsome Lake Religion, by
Anthonys (© 5 Wallace ieee aici Oey nL 2 eee ee a
. Comment on Anthony F. C. Wallace’s “Cultural Composition
of the Handsome Lake Religion,” by Wallace L. Chafe-- -----
. The Redbird Smith Movement, by Robert K. Thomas----------
. Comment on Robert K. Thomas’s “The Redbird Smith Movement,”
yp Hare Wee VO Se Gime ie at ha eS NIN 2 a a a
. Effects of Environment on Cherokee-Iroquois Ceremonialism,
Music, and Dance, by Gertrude P. Kurath______-------------
Comment on Gertrude P. Kurath’s “Effects of Environment on
Cherokee-Iroquois Ceremonialism, Music, and Dance,” by
Wrilliammy @aSGurte verte = sas speach Mae ee cess Resi sale
The Iroquois Fortunetellers and Their Conservative Influence, by
PATATVE TTY ATE CVS ERTTT @ Tyee eet es Snes men eles ed eee
Change, Persistence, and Accommodation in Cherokee Medico-
Magical Beliefs, by Raymond D. Fogelson- -----------------
Some Observations on the Persistence of Aboriginal Cherokee
Personality Traits, by Charles H. Holzinger_----------------
First Comment on Charles H. Holzinger’s “Some Observations on
the Persistence of Aboriginal Cherokee Personality Traits,’’ by
MTB) Al ClO eT layers NS pe ee
PAGE
No. 24. Second Comment on Charles H. Holzinger’s “‘Some Observations
on the Persistence of Aboriginal Cherokee Personality Traits,’’
Boye Jc barns Gua Ne DE fe a 247
No. 25. Iroquoian Culture History: A General Evaluation, by William
ING SST GO Te oar MN SA SAU LG Es SIO ae Ne A 253
D0 (ep capes eye Nene Me elp A RCI IIS Ge IN ASO ena TC ee 279
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 1. Foreword by the Editors
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FOREWORD BY THE EDITORS
This symposium is a link in a long chain of public and scholarly
concern and effort which stretches back to the Colonial period of
American history during which both the Cherokee and Iroquois
cultures figured prominently.
Scholarly interest has been continuous since the early work of Lewis
H. Morgan among the Iroquois and James Mooney among the
Cherokee. In more recent times, sustained interest in Iroquoian
problems has received stimulation and support in the Conference on
Iroquois Research, which met annually after 1945 at Red House, N.Y.,
under the leadership of William N. Fenton.
The Proceedings of the first four Red House conferences are refer-
enced in a footnote to a published symposium, which was held in
New York City in November 1949 during the annual meetings of the
American Anthropological Association (Fenton, ed., 1951, p. 4). By
1950, the conferences, having returned to Red House, were beginning
to produce the results of substantive research in several disciplines.
In paired articles, called “Iroquois Anthropology at the Mid-century,”’
Fenton wrote up history, ethnology, and linguistics; and Witthoft
reviewed archeology at the sixth conference (Fenton, 1951 a; Witthoft,
1951). The seventh and eighth conferences held at Red House in 1951
and 1952 were noticed in Science (Fenton, 1951 b; Wallace, 1953).
By now the group had returned to general sessions on a single theme—
“Stability and change in culture history,’’ which the following year
prompted “‘ethnohistory,”’ with a trend noticeable toward more formal
papers on methodological problems. The conference did not convene
at Red House in 1954 or 1955, but at the Detroit meetings of the
American Anthropological Association, a group interested in the field
met for lunch to formulate a program for regional studies involving
American and Canadian scholars and institutions. A memorandum
circulated after this meeting provided the basis for a conference which
was called by the New York State Education Department and held
at the New York State Museum in March 1955. A direct outcome
of this conference was a proposal for a regional ethnohistorical study
on cultural conservatism among the Iroquois, which failed to find
foundation support. The focus of this proposal was the developing
field of ethnohistory; the theoretical problem was the study of
conservatism. This petition said in part:
The groups of Iroquois in Canada and New York State are ideal subjects for
such an approach, exhibiting after three hundred years of contact many features
3
4 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
of the aboriginal culture. For this entire period there is excellent documentation,
and by ‘‘upstreaming” from the contemporary scene through the historical into
the prehistoric period, it should be possible to obtain a detailed and thorough
picture of the processes of culture and historical change which have occurred
over a long time-span, which have the advantage of being shown in two countries,
and relate directly to the forces of conservatism.
The problem here outlined affords excellent opportunities for research by
members of a variety of disciplines, and is perhaps uniquely integrating in that
the prehistorian, historian, folklorist, musicologist, linguist, ethnologist, and
social psychologist would find it possible to work closely on a single set of related
problems. The program also lends itseif well to the training of graduate students,
for the accessibility of the group under study makes it possible to put a number
of people into the field under direct supervision and at a modest expense. The
value of such training for those students who will later undertake work in more
distant areas without firsthand supervision cannot be overestimated.
The problem of conservatism has several practical as well as basic theoretical
applications. On the practical side, it seems that the United States today might
profit from an examination of her past experience with attempts to ‘‘civilize’’
underdeveloped areas occupied by American Indians. There is knowledge to be
gained from study of the success and failure of religious groups, federal and state
agencies, schools, etc., in trying to change American Indian culture, and failing.
The Iroquois are peculiarly suited to such type of study because their history is
so well documented.
The field of ethnohistory has received increasing attention within the past
several years. Recent trends in American archeology show an increasing interest
in tying prehistoric finds to historic groups, an endeavor which poses a number
of major methodological problems. Similarly, work involving cooperation
between historian and ethnologist has been increasingly emphasized, requiring
the two to alter traditional views and procedures to their mutual benefit in order
to give most meaning to the data.
The six Iroquois reservations of New York and the four reserves in Canada can
best be utilized as related but individually distinct laboratories. The similarities
among them are striking; the variation from reservation to reservation offers a
wide range of intriguing problems within the field of culture history. Contempo-
rary problems are numerous, and some piecemeal research has been done, both on
these, as well as on some of the historical problems. What we are proposing is an
integrated program of study which would enable interested scholars to pursue lines
of inquiry within the framework of a common problem.
Though a basis for such research had been laid in the eight confer-
ences on Iroquois research in the decade preceding 1955, it was all too
clear that the lack of an integrated program severely limited the
amount of cooperative research that could be undertaken by partici-
pants in these conferences and by their institutions. Much individual
work nevertheless had been stimulated.
Undismayed, students of the Iroquois met for the ninth! time at
Red House in 1955, to explore ways of achieving cooperation in anthro-
pological studies in the northeast. This theme provided a vehicle for
discussing State and local relationships in archeology, professional and
1 Mimeographed copies of the full proceedings of the Ninth (1955) and Tenth (1956) Conferences are avail-
able on request at the New York State Museum, Albany 1, N.Y.
No. 1] FOREWORD BY THE EDITORS 5
amateur responsibilities, the roles of local and regional museums, the
relationships between universities as training centers, and the oppor-
tunities provided by the conference for fieldwork. In the selection of
the theme and in the candor which marked the discussion, the confer-
ence touched a significant problem area in the organization of scholar-
ship—namely, how to foster good communications among national,
State, and local levels of the community of science without control
flowing from the top, and how to provide the amateur, part-time
scholar with a sense of full participation (Fenton, 1956).
The next year the decennial conference concentrated on ethnology;
and, with small attendance, engendered lively discussion of four key
papers: on an ethnohistorical museum exhibit, on social structure, on
Mohawks in high steel (Freilich, 1958), and on the Seneca language
project; three of these were now programs of the New York State
Museum and Science Service. A suggestion that more frequent meet-
ings be held at central locations to discuss a series of identified topics
was never put into action, but it was apparent that such meetings do
succeed when a speaker is chosen who has new evidence or recent
research to present. The group was maturing and wanted formal
papers.
The Eleventh Conference of 1957 featured a seminar on revitaliza-
tion, with prepared papers, two of which were afterward printed in
Ethnohistory (Wallace, 1958; Landy, 1958), and another elsewhere
(Dunning, 1958).
Work among the Cherokee has, perhaps, been less sustained,
especially among the Cherokee of Oklahoma. Among the Eastern
Cherokee of North Carolina, the work of Olbrechts, Speck, Broom,
Gilbert, and Witthoft has been notable. In 1955, furthermore, a
coordinated study of the Eastern Cherokee was established under the
auspices of the Institute for Research in Social Science of the Uni-
versity of North Carolina. Under the direction of John Gulick, the
aim of this field study has been to achieve a fully rounded analysis of
the total contemporary culture. Ten persons have participated in the
research, each representing a different topical and theoretical interest
from the others. Four of the authors included in this symposium,
Raymond Fogelson, Charles H. Holzinger, Paul Kutsche, and
Robert K. Thomas, were members of this group of ten, and three of the
papers, Fogelson and Kutsche’s, Fogelson’s, and Holzinger’s, are
based on the research of the project. It should be pointed out that all
of these papers relate to matters pertaining primarily to the rela-
tively least acculturated Eastern Cherokee, but that the Eastern
Cherokee include at least three other population aggregates which
can be differentiated from each other in terms of degrees of accultura-
tion. Issues associated with the nature of, and relationships between,
6 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
these different groups, though of considerable importance in the
“total contemporary culture of the Eastern Cherokees,” are not
elucidated by the contemporary Eastern Cherokee papers in this
volume. These wider issues are analyzed in a monograph by Gulick
(1960).
The forging of this particular link in the chain of Cherokee and
Iroquois studies was inspired by the comparing of notes between
Iroquoian specialists, on the one hand, and participants in the coordi-
nated Cherokee study in North Carolina, on the other. The time
seemed ripe for an up-to-date review of the recurrent problems which
have arisen in the study of the two cultures.
Accordingly, on March 14, 1958, William N. Fenton, Fred O.
Gearing, William H. Gilbert, Jr., John Gulick, and William C. Sturte-
vant met at the Smithsonian Institution to make plans for a Cherokee-
Jroquois Symposium which would be included in the proceedings of the
57th Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological Association.
Previously, members of this informal committee had solicited from
colleagues suggestions for topics of papers which they might prepare,
and these suggestions were used as the basis of concrete planning.
Thus, since the topics of most of the papers were set by their authors,
they differ significantly in scope and in manner of presentation.
However, this apparent heterogeneity should not distract the reader
from the rationale according to which the suggested topics were
selected for inclusion and, in turn, were arranged in order. This
rationale derives from the long-held view, based primarily on iinguistic
evidence, that the Cherokee and the Iroquois had a single common
origin at some time in the distant past. Given this view, a series of
interpretative questions, or problem areas, arises in regard to simi-
larities and differences between the two cultures which existed either
before or at the time of Colonial contact and for a while thereafter.
To these problems must be added those related to the extensive adjust-
ments which the Cherokee and the Iroquois have had to make since
the initial contact period and are still making today.
The order in which the papers appear is roughly chronological.
Beginning with the linguistic issue and its bearing on the question
of common origin, there follow two papers dealing with archeological
matters. Next come several papers which are ethnohistorical in
horizon, followed by papers dealing with the present or the recent
past. Diverse in temporal emphasis, the papers are also diverse
in methodological and topical focus, ranging from archeology to
culture-and-personality. In selecting and arranging the papers and
discussions, care was taken to balance the coverage of Cherokee and
Iroquois materials as well as possible. In some cases, this is achieved
within individual papers—Lounsbury’s, Witthoft’s, and Kurath’s
No. 1] FOREWORD BY THE EDITORS 7
papers, in particular. In other cases, there are paired papers dealing
with comparable issues, one focusing on Cherokee, the other on
Iroquois. These paired papers are Ritchie’s and Coe’s, Wallace’s and
Thomas’, and Shimony’s and Fogelson’s. Holzinger’s and Gearing’s
papers, both concentrating on Cherokee, are not precisely matched
on the Iroquois side, but an effort was made to extend the Iroquois
dimension in the discussions and in Fenton’s summary and evaluative
paper.
Unless otherwise indicated, the Iroquois linguistic forms cited in
various papers are Seneca. Seneca words, except in quotations from
older sources, have been written in a standardized phonemic orthog-
raphy (Chafe, 1960).
With the exception of the papers by Shimony, Fogelson, and
Fogelson and Kutsche, which were added later, all the papers and
nearly ali the discussions in this volume were read in the Cherokee-
Iroquois Symposium at the 57th Annual Meeting of the American
Anthropological Association in Washington, D.C., November 20,
1958. They were presented in two sessions, one chaired by William
N. Fenton and the other by John Gulick. The finished papers were
afterward revised, duplicated, and circulated for critical comment.
It is a tribute to the participants that the editors received the final
manuscripts so promptly.
We wish to express our appreciation to Dr. Harvey C. Moore,
program chairman of the 1958 Meetings, and to his committee for
allocating two session periods for a single symposium; to all who
took part; and to the crowd who came to listen.
WiuuraM N. Fenton
New York State Museum, Albany
JOHN GULICK
Institute for Research in Social Science
University of North Carolina
Chapel Hill, N. C.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Cuare, W. L.
1960. Seneca morphology I: Introduction. Internat. Journ. Amer. Linguis-
tics, vol. 26, pp. 11-22.
Dunnine, R. WILLIAM.
1958. Iroquois feast of the dead: new style. Anthropologica, pp. 87-118.
Ottawa.
Fenton, W. N.
1951 a. Iroquois studies at the mid-century. Proc. Amer. Philos. Soc., vol.
95, pp. 296-310.
1951 b. Seventh conference on Iroquois research. Science,’ vol. 114,
pp. 588-589.
8 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Fenton, W. N.—Continued
1956. Iroquois research: The ninth conference on Iroquois research.
Science, vol. 123, p. 69.
Fenton, W. N., Epiror.
1951. Symposium on local diversity in Iroquois culture. Bur. Amer.
Ethnol. Bull. 149.
FReEILicH, Morris.
1958. Cultural persistence among the modern Iroquois. Anthropos, vol. 53,
pp. 473-483.
GULICK, JOHN.
1960. Cherokees at the crossroads. Institute for Research in Social Science.
Monographs. Chapel Hill, N.C.
Lanpy, Davin.
1958. Tuscarora tribalism and national identity. Ethnohistory, vol. 5,
pp. 250-284.
Wauiace, A. F. C.
1953. Highth conference on Iroquois research. Science, vol. 117, pp.
147-148.
1958. The Dekanawideh myth analysed as the record of a revitalization
movement. Ethnohistory, vol. 5, pp. 118-130.
WITTHOFT, JOHN.
1951. Iroquois archeology at the mid-century. Proc. Amer. Philos. Soc.,
vol. 95, pp. 311-321.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 2. Iroquois-Cherokee Linguistic Relations
By FLOYD G. LOUNSBURY
SJ BBOK
a
TROQUOIS-CHEROKEE LINGUISTIC RELATIONS
Fioyp G. Lounsrury
Yale University
The widest cleavage in the Iroquoian family is certainly that be-
tween the Cherokee and all the rest of the Iroquoian, i.e., between a
lone southern branch and a large northern trunk. Ten years ago, at
the Fourth Conference on Iroquois Research, I hazarded a guess of
around 4,000 years for the time depth of this split. The estimate was
based primarily on a rough evaluation of the amount of phonetic,
grammatical, and lexical change which has accrued to the Cherokee
and which sets it off from the rest of the Iroquoian. This was before
the advent of glottochronology, which appeared on the scene in 1950
and 1951 (Swadesh, 1950, 1951). By glottochronologic counts, using
the Swadesh 200-word list but with still incomplete data, common
retentions between Cherokee and other Iroquoian languages range
from 37.8 percent down to 34.3 percent. As I translate percentages
into estimates of time,! this would be read as an effective split of
around 3,500 to 3,800 years duration—a trifle shorter than my first
guess from phonology. These figures, of course, are to be regarded
as tentative and as subject to revision when complete data are in.
On the basis of comparative phonology, one must judge all other
effective splits within the Iroquoian family to be of appreciably shal-
1 The translation of percentages into estimates of years in this paper is based upon a corrected scale taking
account of a “‘deceleration factor,”’ rather than upon the scale obtained from the usual formula with the
Lees empirical constant (Lees, 1953). The corrected scale gives results in the lower percentages closer to
those of the scale first given by Swadesh in his Salish paper (1950).
The usual formula (Swadesh, 1950; Lees, 1953) with the Lees constant (Lees, 1953), which has been the
basis for most recent calculations, yields increasingly foreshortened time depths, the lower the percentage
of common retention. This effect follows. from the invalid assumption of equal average viabilities for all
items in the basic vocabulary list. It is an empirical fact, however, as might also be expected a priori, that
the items are of unequal average viability. The attrition from a starting list during, say, the first millennium
of reckoning affects a generally more vulnerable portion of the list, leaving a somewhat more resistant resi-
due. And so also for each successive ensuing millennium. The result is a gradual deceleration in the rate
of attrition from the original list as the time span is increased. In other words, the retention rate is not
constant over successive millennia, but increases as the residue list gets smaller and generally more resistant.
That a deceleration correction is in order can be seen not only from a priorireasoning, but also from the fact
that the usual formula, with the Lees constant, yields excessively shallow time. depths in a number of cases
where the actual time depths are ascertainable within reasonable limits. For example, it yields just under
three millennia for the approximately 28 percent common retention obtained in any Germanic-Romance
or Germanic-Slavic comparison. This is hardly sufficient for a stage of Indo-European ancestral to the Sla-
vic, Germanic, and Romance branches.
536135—61—_—-2 11
12 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
lower time depth. This applies to the Huron and Tuscarora and
other peripheral branchings, as well as to those within the Five Nations.
Glottochronologic retentions between Tuscarora and Five Nations
languages range from 59.4 to 50.0 percent of the 200-word list. These
should represent a depth of from 1,900 to 2,400 years. Retentions
which have been obtained within the Five Nations are from 72.8 to
64.8 percent, or approximately 1,200 to 1,500 years. The available
percentages are presented in table 1.
TABLE 1
Cherokee 100.0
Tuscarora 34.3 100.0
Seneca 50. 0 100.0
Cayuga 34. 5 71.6 100. 0
Oneida 37.8 59. 4 64.8 72.8 100.0
Cherokee Tuscarora Seneca Cayuga Oneida
Ca. 1,200-1,500 years
Ca. 1,900-2,400 years
Ca. 3,500-3,800 years
There are a fair number of seemingly important isoglosses, however,
which cut through the Iroquoian family in a different place from that
of its widest cleavage, and which divide on a west-vs.-east, or perhaps
peripheral-vs.-inner, basis, rather than on the basis of Cherokee vs.
all else. The possibility of such a division among the languages has
occurred to me at different times and in different contexts: in the
collection of grammatical data concerned with the pronominal prefix
systems; again, in studying Bernard Hoffmann’s collation of the
Cartier vocabularies of the Laurentian Iroquois; also, in a comparative
study of the Iroquois kinship systems; and once more in connection
with a study of place names of Iroquois origin. Table 2 presents data
for five such isoglosses.
The ka- plurals (column 2a, table 2).—EKach of the Iroquoian
languages possesses a set of pronominal prefixes which indicate the
various transitive combinations of pronominal subject and pronominal
object, distinguishing person, number, and gender, with varying de-
grees of specificity, for each. The number of such prefixes differs
from language to language within the family, but ranges from a low
figure of 49 to a high in the 70’s. Some of the languages, but not all,
have prefixes with a plural formative ka- which pluralizes either the
No. 2] LINGUISTIC RELATIONS—LOUNSBURY 13
TABLE 2
1 2a 2b 3 4 5a 5b
‘paternal| ‘I-to- ‘T-to- ‘lake’ ‘four’ ‘six’ ‘seven’
aunt’ them’ her’
SSS SSS SSS SSS |S SSS SSS |
Cherokee_--._---- e-hloki | katsi-- | tsi.- V-tali nvhki su-tali kahlkwo-ki
Laurentian_-_----- ? ? ? Ota(r)e? hvV?nahk6é | Sutaye? ahya’ka
Wyandot_...---- arahak | ? ? yotare? v?dahk wahya? sutare?
EIQ N eae ee ayrahak | yaye- ye- otare? V?dahk wahya? tsutare?
Tuscarora._------ akharak | kakhe- khe- (kanyd‘tare?) | hv?tahk wuhya’k | tSa?nahk
Cayligakee east eae kakhe- | khe- kanyatae? kei ye-i? tsyatak
Senecas- see ake-hak khe- kanyotae? ke-ih ye-i? ja-tak
Onondaga---_-----|---------- khe- kKaynatae? kayei ahya?k tsyatak
Oneida eens ere | ee ee khe- kanyatale? Kaye (li-) yahya?k- | tsyatak
Mioha wikis 202. = |i Sar oe khe- kanyatare? kayeri yahya?k- | ts(y)atak
subjective or the objective reference of the prefix. Cherokee has 17
of these ka- plurals; Tuscarora has 9; Cayuga has 6. Huron had at
least 16 of them (but with the Huron phonetic change of prevocalic
k toy). Seneca, Onondaga, Oneida, and Mohawk lack these entirely,
and this formative element is unknown in these languages. Column
2a of table 2 illustrates one of these plural prefixes, namely, that for
the combination of the first-person-singular subject with the third-
person-plural object, ‘I-to-them.’ Comparison of columns 2a and
2b shows how the categories of ‘I-to-them’ and ‘I-to-her’ are dis-
tinguished from each other in one group of languages but are merged
in the second group of languages. The isogloss line separates the two
groups. (No data exist for Laurentian. Manuscript data exist for
Wyandot, but I have not seen them. One would expect Wyandot to
follow the Huron in this as in other respects.)
The noun root for ‘lake’ (column 3, table 2).—One must reconstruct
two different forms of the noun root for ‘lake’ (or ‘large river’ or any
Jarge body of water’) in proto-Iroquoian. One is *-dtar-; the other is
*nyatar-.2 The former is ancestral to the Cherokee, Huron, Wyan-
dot, and Laurentian forms for ‘lake.’ The latter is ancestral to the
forms in the Five Nations languages.
Both of these root forms can be seen in some of our place names
and other names of Iroquoian origin. For example, based on the root
*_Star- are our names Ontario and Ticonderoga: Ontario from Huron
Otari-yo ‘grand lake,’ and Ticonderoga from Laurentian tekotaré-kv
‘the junction between two lakes.’ Based on the root *-nyatar- are
the name of the city Skaneateles, N.Y., and the name of Handsome
Lake, the prophet of the present Iroquois religion. The former is
2 The asterisk is used, following common linguistic practice, to mark hypothetical forms reconstructed
for an ancestral language. The tilde is used to mark nasalized vowels.
14 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM _[B.A.E. Bull. 180
from Oneida skanyAtdles ‘the long lake.’ The latter is skanyotaiyo? in
Seneca or skanyatari-yo? in Mohawk, ‘the grand lake.’
On one side of the *-dtar-:*-nyatar- isogloss are found Cherokee,
Wyandot, Huron, and Laurentian. On the other side are the Five
Nations languages. As for Tuscarora, the original form of its word
for ‘lake’ isnot known tome. In the differentiation of Tuscarora from
the ancestral stock, all instances of the Iroquoian phoneme n became t,
except before a nasalized vowel where it stayed n. Moreover, all
instances of the Iroquoian phoneme ¢ in intervocalic position became
2n. The current word for ‘lake’ in Tuscarora, kany4-tare?, is there-
fore an obvious recent borrowing from Mohawk or Oneida. Hence the
parentheses around this entry mm the tabie. If the Tuscarora word
were @ genuine cognate, descending from proto-Iroquoian and based
on this root, the form would have to be katyaé-?nare?. If it were
based on the other root, and were cognate to the Cherokee, Wyandot,
Huron, and Laurentian forms, it would have to be yv-?nare? in
Tuscarora. Keeping Tuscarora on this side of the isogloss, this is
the form which I would predict.
Neither of the two root forms *-dtar- and *-nyatar- can be derived
from the other or from a common protoform by any attestable pho-
netic changes in the development of the languages concerned. They
must therefore be posited as competing forms. (One can of course
suspect that both derive, by some manner of morphological compound-
ing in a pre-Iroquoian stage, from a common hypothetical root *-tar-
in second position but with two different hypothetical first elements.)
Words for ‘four’ (column 4, table 2).—Iroquoian words for the
numeral ‘four’ go back to two separate protoforms, *hv’nahk and
*kayeril. ‘The Cherokee, Laurentian, Wyandot, Huron, and Tuscarora
words derive from the former, while the Five Nations words come
from the latter. The change of original n to d in Wyandot and
Huron is in accord with a regular phonological change in these
languages, and the change of n to ¢ in Tuscarora is in accord with the
regular change previously noted for Tuscarora in the discussion of
the word for ‘lake.’
Words for ‘siz’ and ‘seven’ (columns 5a and 5b, table 2).—I am led
to reconstruct two competing forms for the numeral ‘seven’ in proto-
Iroquoian: *tsyatahk and *sutare?. The first of these is ancestral to
the Five Nations and Tuscarora words for ‘seven.’ The second is
ancestral to the Wyandot and Huron words for ‘seven’ and to the
Cherokee and Laurentian words for ‘six.’ Since the Laurentian word
for ‘seven’ (ahya?ka) is obviously cognate to the Mohawk, Oneida,
Onondaga, Tuscarora, Huron, and Wyandot words for ‘six,’ while
the Laurentian for ‘six’ (Sutaye) is cognate to the Huron and Wyandot
for ‘seven,’ it would seem either that the Laurentian Iroquois had
No. 2] LINGUISTIC RELATIONS—LOUNSBURY 15
interchanged the words for ‘six’ and ‘seven,’ or that whoever took
down the Cartier vocabularies had interchanged them. The latter
would be the simpler and preferable hypothesis were it not for the fact
that the Cherokee language agrees with the Cartier Laurentian
vocabulary in its word for ‘six’ (su-tali). Cartier’s scribe can therefore
not be blamed, and we must posit some semantic instability to the
proto-Iroquoian forms for ‘six’ and ‘seven.’ After all, these may have
represented rather high numerical concepts in proto-Iroquoian times.
The Cherokee for ‘seven,’ kahlkwo-ki, <*kalVhkwo-ki,? does not
appear to be cognate to anything else Iroquoian, but looks suspi-
ciously like a borrowing from Muskogean. (Compare Creek
kulapé-kin. Kw is the usual transformation of bilabial stops in
borrowings into the labial-less Iroquoian languages.)
In table 2 the isogloss has been drawn so as to divide between those
languages which show a form descended from proto-Iroquoian
*sutare? but none from *tsyatak, and those languages which have a
form descended from *tsyatak but none from *sutare?. (All of the
languages except Cherokee have a form descendent from *-ahya?k.)
The ‘paternal aunt’? term (column 1, table 2)—The Cherokee,
Wyandot, Huron, Tuscarora, and Seneca terms for ‘my paternal
aunt’ are given in column 1 of table 2. The forms in these languages
are cognate, going back to a proto-Iroquoian root *-rahak-. Mohawk,
Oneida, Onondaga, and Cayuga lack a ‘father’s sister’ term. ‘The
paternal aunt class is terminologically merged with the ‘mother’
class, in ‘Hawaiian’ fashion, in these languages.
* The symbol V is used here as 2 cover symbol for ‘any vowel’ or ‘some (in the present case, unknown)
vowel.’ The symbol C, in the following, will represent ‘any consonant.’ It is a rule of Cherokee phono-
logical development that CVh metathesizes to Ch Vif Cis one of the stopst, k, but to hCV ff Cis one of the
continuants y, #, 1, m, 3; and, further, that if in elther of these cases the following syllable begins with ¢, k,
or s (rather than with y, w, I, or n), then the preceding vowel V drops out altogether. This explains the
sequence hlk in the cited form for ‘seven,’ and the reconstruction. ‘There is no other possible source for such
a sequence in Cherokee.
Consonant sequences such as this (and many others) present a problem for the Cherokee writer, inasmuch
as the Sequoya syllabary provides symbols only for sequencesoftypes CVandsCV. (To beincluded under
the formulation CV are the cases of kw V, tlV, ts V, and also the cases of ? V which are romanized misleadingly
as V. Also it should be noted that most of the CV signs of the syllabary represent ambiguously any of the
phonemic types CV, CV-, CV-?, CVh, or ChV/hCV.) To write, for example, the single consonant lor the
sequence hl one is forced to choose one of the signs representing Ja, le, li, lo, 7u, orl”. Cherokee practice is to
choose the one with the historically correct vowel whenever this can be ascertained from another paradig-
matic form based on a morphophonemic stem-alternant—one having a glottal stop and/or length with
falling tone in place of h, and thus not furnishing the conditions for metathesis and vowelloss. (‘The Chero-
kees, of course, do not phrase it this way.) In verb forms the Cherokee orthographic practice usually reveals
correctly the historically lost vowel, as one can easily demonstrate by running through a paradigm. But
with nouns (other than body parts and kinship terms), numerals, and other forms which do not serve as
bases for paradigms with more than one stem-alternant, the necessary clues are rarely available and the
Cherokee writer must make an arbitrary choice of symbol.
In the Cherokee version of the “Constitution and Laws of the Cherokee Nation’’ (1892) the word for
‘seven,’ kahlkwo-ki, is printed several times with the signs (as represented in the usual romanization)
GALIGWOGI. Ifthe choice of LIhas morphophonemic or historic validity, it makes the vowel compari-
sons more difficult and weakens the case for the comparison with the Creek numeral. If on the other hand
it is but an arbitrary choice which has become conventional, it is then irrelevant to the problem.
16 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Professor Murdock (1949, pp. 245, 246) has noted this kind of an
anomaly in something under a half of the Iroquois-type kinship sys-
tems, and in something under a third of the Crow-type kinship
systems, which have turned up in his ethnographic sample. The
anomaly consists (a) in the lack of a specially designated ‘paternal
aunt’ class to contrast with the combined ‘mother and maternal aunt’
class in a manner analogous to that in which the specially designated
‘maternal uncle’ class contrasts with the combined ‘father and paternal
uncle’ class, and (6) in the reciprocal fact that only a man has any
‘nephews’ and ‘nieces’ while a woman classifies the children of all of
her brothers and sisters and cousins as ‘sons’ and ‘daughters’ in
‘Hawaiian’ fashion.
No satisfactory functional explanation for this quite frequent
anomaly has been put forward as yet (so far as I know), but Murdock
suggested a tentative historical explanation—linguistic lag from an
earlier Hawaiian-type system—which may be relevant to some of the
cases. In the case of the Iroquois, however, because of the genetically
cognate form of the ‘paternal aunt’ term in Cherokee with those of
Wyandot, Huron, Seneca, and Tuscarora, a ‘paternal aunt’ term must
be posited for proto-Jroquoian. If the proto-Iroquoian speech com-
munity were homogeneous in this respect, it would indicate loss of
an original ‘paternal aunt’ term in the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga,
and Cayuga lines, rather than a ‘Hawaiian’-type lag and failure to de-
velop a term where none originally existed. In view of the other
isoglosses however, which set off the northern, western, and southern
peripheral languages from the eastern or central languages, it may be
that we have here only another isogloss which follows suit, and that
this terminological difference goes all the way back to the proto-
Troquoian dialect community.
Conclusion.—A culture historian, faced with a series of ‘iso-’ lines
showing the ethnic distribution of a number of traits, might by habit
be inclined to interpret them in terms of trait diffusion. This is all
right, so long as one specifies correctly the time of the diffusion. The
instances reviewed here are not cases of diffusion from language to
language. They are not borrowings. The fact that the forms cited
have shared the particular phonological histories of their respective
languages as these have evolved and differentiated from each other,
throws their antecedents in each language all the way back to proto-
Troquoian. The only exception in the table is the present Tuscarora
word for ‘lake’, which by not sharing the regular Tuscarora phonemic
changes, betrays itself clearly as a recent borrowing and is therefore
irrelevant for the drawing of an isogloss.
It is sometimes necessary to reconstruct competing forms for a
single vocabulary item in an inferred protolanguage, in order to
No. 2] LINGUISTIC RELATIONS—LOUNSBURY iv
account for all of the inherited forms in a family of historically known
languages. One thereby recognizes dialect cleavages within the proto-
speech-community. This poses a problem in the application of the
comparative method and in the construction of a family tree only
when such cleavages run counter to others which are judged to be
equally or more important for phylogenetic classification of the
languages.* An old dialect cleavage may attain a certain magnitude,
only to be arrested and superseded by a new one based upon different
linguistic features and corresponding to a different geographical split.
The later one may grow to proportions that dwarf the overall signifi-
cance of the earlier split. The family tree which one constructs will
then represent the latter division, rather than the former. The two-
dimensional tree model cannot represent everything. It portrays the
widest splits. The widest and therefore most effective splits, however,
are not of necessity the deepest ones in time. Some of the deeper
ones may be obscured by the family-tree model.
In the Iroquoian family a series of isoglosses can be drawn, largely
but not entirely coinciding in their location, which oppose the outer
languages (Cherokee, Laurentian, Huron-Wyandot, and Tuscarora)
against the inner or eastern languages (Five Nations languages, but
especially the easternmost ones). These indicate a dialect cleavage
within the proto-Iroquoian speech community. It survives as a
minor cleavage, in comparison to the quantitatively much greater
cleavage which separates Cherokee from all else. Yet it must be at
least as old. The lesser magnitude of this equally deep split must be
ascribed to longer geographic proximity of the ancestral Laurentian,
Huron-Wyandot, and Tuscarora groups to the ancestral Five Nations
groups and to continuing contact between them. The wider separa-
tion of the Cherokee, on the other hand, must be ascribed to a more
complete, though not earlier, separation.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BLOOMFIELD, LEONARD.
1933. Language. New York.
Less, Ropert B.
1953. The basis of glottochronology. Language, vol. 29, pp. 113-127.
Morpockg, G. P.
1949. Social structure. New York.
SwaprsH, Morris.
1950. Salish internal relationships. Internat. Journ. Amer. Linguistics,
vol. 16, pp. 157-167.
1951. Diffusional cumulation and archaic residue as historical explanations.
Southwestern Journ. Anthrop., vol. 7, pp. 1-21.
4Compare Bloomfield’s discussion of the Wellentheorie of Johannes Schmidt (Bloomfield, 1933,
pp. 317-318).
dy paiene : y aaa : a | i | i ; i ' ? | "i . a 3 i 3 ; ' r3) :
abe | sdigndche
; ht wes
«
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Feit te PE
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 3. Comment on Floyd G. Lounsbury’s “Iroquois-Cherokee
Linguistic Relations”
By MARY R. HAAS
19
4
Nat Ea
a Vice
pd
COMMENT ON FLOYD G. LOUNSBURY’S “TROQUOIS-
CHEROKEE LINGUISTIC RELATIONS”
By Mary R. Haas
University of California (Berkeley)
Of the six North American superstocks set up by Sapir 30 years ago
(Sapir, 1929), the most problematical of all is his Hokan-Siouan super-
stock. And itis within this superstock that Sapir has placed Iroquoian.
He subsumes six major subdivisions: (1) Hokan-Coahuiltecan; (2)
Yuki; (8) Keres; (4) Tunican; (5) Iroquois-Caddoan; and (6) Eastern
group—Siouan-Yuchi plus Natchez-Muskogean. At the present time
there can no longer be any doubt that drastic revisions will have to be
made in this scheme. For example, recent investigations have shown
that some of these subdivisions are probably related to subdivisions
of another of Sapir’s superstocks, namely Algonkian-Mosan (Haas,
1958, 1959). In particular, preliminary evidence has been provided
for an affiliation between Algonkian-Ritwan and the Gulf languages
(= Natchez-Muskogean plus Sapir’s ‘“Tunican’’) and also Tonkawa
(subsumed under Coahuiltecan by Sapir).
Still, none of this as yet throws any new light on the problem of
deeper affiliations for the Iroquoian family. What it does show is
(1) that the whole problem has become considerably more complex
and (2) that we are not going to get very much further in our probings
for deeper linguistic relationships in the Americas until we have made
more progress in the reconstruction of protolanguages wherever suffi-
ciently closely related daughter languages exist.
I am heartened to observe in the paper under discussion that
Lounsbury is making good progress in the reconstruction of proto-
Iroquoian. As his work proceeds it should soon become possible to
make comparative tests in search of deeper affiliations for the Iro-
quoian languages. Since no one is at present working on the recon-
struction of proto-Caddoan,! the testing of Sapir’s hypothesis about
the probable closeness of Iroquoian and Caddoan may have to be
delayed. Such delay, however, should not prevent us from checking
on other connections subsumed under the Sapir hypothesis. As soon
1W. L. Chafe is planning work toward this end and did preliminary fieldwork in this connection
during the fall of 1959.—W. N. F.
21
DD, CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
as enough proto-Iroquoian reconstructions become available, it will
be desirable to begin the checking of proto-Iroquoian against proto-
Siouan, against proto-Muskogean, and also, in view of the recent
work on Algonkian-Gulf, against proto-Central Algonkian. I do not
wish to appear to be predicting positive findings; I am simply insisting
that the checking must be done. The results, whether positive or
negative (or some positive and some negative) would quite clearly
be momentous.
Interest in the probing of near and remote genetic relationships in
North America has been so great as to lead to the almost total neglect
of another important historical tool provided by linguistics, namely
the uncovering of intertribal loans.2, Some years ago I observed that
Creek (a Muskogean language) and Cherokee have similar terms for
certain plants, animals, and other things. In most instances it has
not been too difficult to determine which is the lending and which the
borrowing language; and at the present stage of investigation it appears
that Creek has borrowed from Cherokee more often than Cherokee
has borrowed from Creek. Hence I was immediately struck by Louns-
bury’s problem in connection with the Cherokee word for ‘seven’.
Cherokee kahlkwo-ki < kalVhkwo-ki ‘seven’ does not appear
to be cognate with anything Jroquoian but may be a borrowing
from Creek kulapa-kin ‘seven.’ Cherokee has no labial stops; hence
Creek /p/ would be transformed to Cherokee /kw/. Although other
minor phonetic differences (the insertion of /h/; the transposition of
the vowels /a/ and /o/, Creek /u/) remain unexplained, the similarity
is too striking to be shrugged off as a coincidence. Moreover the
direction of the borrowing is certain: the Cherokee word is modeled
on the Creek word and not vice versa. ‘This is clear (1) because the
Creek word has an etymology and (2) because it occurs as a member
of a set of numerals containing the element -apd-k- meaning ‘added
on, joined with.’ The set is: 1-p4-kin ‘six,’ kulap4-kin ‘seven,’ cin-
apaé-kin ‘eight,’ ustapa-kin ‘nine’ based on i-- ‘one’ (?), kul- ‘two,’
cin- ‘three,’ ust- ‘four,’ respectively.
But why should Cherokee have borrowed a word for ‘seven’?
There is no ready answer to this. Still, ‘seven’ is a ritual number
among the Cherokee, and it is within the realm of possibility that
the ancestral form for ‘seven’ acquired taboo status and that the
Creek word was substituted for this reason.
2 Studies of loanwords in American Indian languages have so far been concerned most often with the in-
troduction of European, especially Spanish, words into the tribal languages.
3 It has also recently been brought to my attention that the Cherokee use of a borrowed word for ‘seven’
is not unique in North America. On the other side of the continent, Tubatulabal, a Uto-Aztecan language,
has borrowed its word for ‘seven’ from the neighboring Yokuts, a California Penutian language. The
words in question are Tubatulabal noméin, Yokuts noméin (fide Sydney M. Lamb).
No. 3] COMMENT—HAAS 23
Clearly we know far too little about intertribal loans in North
America and, as a consequence, are cut off from a valuable source
of information about earlier historical contacts among tribes. Good
dictionaries are essential for all types of historical studies—the
study of loanwords as well as genetic affiliations. As more dictionaries
become available we can earnestly hope that the problem of inter-
tribal loans will receive the attention it deserves.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Haas, Mary R.
1958. A new linguistic relationship in North America: Algonkian and the Gulf
languages. Southwestern Journ. Anthrop., vol. 14, pp. 231-264.
1959. Tonkawa and Algonkian. Anthrop. Linguistics, vol. 1, No. 1, pp. 1-6.
Sapir, EDWARD.
1929. Central and North American languages. In Encyclopaedia Britan-
nica, 14th ed., vol. 5, pp. 138-141. (Reprinted in Selected writings
of Edward Sapir, David G. Mandelbaum, ed., pp. 169-178. Berke-
ley and Los Angeles, 1949.)
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 4. Iroquois Archeology and Settlement Patterns
By WILLIAM A. RITCHIE
25
¥
Byatt oy
ea She BEA cis ee Be eR eee a ae 2 NPA
3 l : et ORAL
TROQUOIS ARCHEOLOGY AND SETTLEMENT
PATTERNS
By Wiuuiam A. Ritcuie
New York State Museum and Science Service
After two centuries of speculation and half a century of excavation,
it is almost inconceivable that so many basic questions remain un-
solved concerning the origins of the Iroquois people and their culture.
I think this is chiefly due to the fact that the earlier hypotheses were
based primarily on tradition and impressionism, and that in later
years there has been an unfortunate lack of coordination among the
various specialists working in the Iroquoian field, so that the data
of ethnohistory, ethnology, linguistics, physical anthropology, and
archeology remain to a large degree compartmentalized and mutually
unrelated.' Even with respect to archeology we still have Iroquois
prehistory as seen from Toronto, Ottawa, Rochester, Albany, Harris-
burg, or some other center of regional concentration, rather than an
overall perspective, based upon the combined and united efforts of a
group of scholars.
Provenience hypotheses of the Iroquois and their culture can be
grouped into two main categories, viz, the older or migration postu-
lates, and the current in situ concept. The notion that the Iroquois
represent a displaced people seems ultimately traceable to Nicholas
Perrot, who may have drawn on Iroquois tradition for his allegation,
written between 1680 and 1718, that ““The country of the Iroquois
was formerly the district of Montreal and Three Rivers; they had as
neighbors the Algonkians, who lived along the river of the Otitaouas,
at Nepissing, on the French River, and between this last and Ta-
ronto” (Blair, 1911, vol. 1, pp. 42-48).
Colden, writing in the first quarter of the 18th century, gives
essentially the same account without mentioning his source, in the
following statement: “The Five Nations then lived near where Mont
Real now stands; they defended themselves at first but faintly against
the vigorous attacks of the Adirondacks (Algonkins) and were forced
1 The Iroquois Conferences at Red House, N.Y., and various brief symposia, have tended, in some meas-
ure, to correct this lack.
5s6135- 61 -3 27
28 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
to leave their own Country, and fly to the Banks of the Lakes where
they now live’’ (Colden, 1922, vol. 1, p. 3).
The factual basis for these claims by Perrot and Colden is well
summarized by Fenton in his discussion of the Laurentian Iroquois
(Fenton, 1940, pp. 167-177). Archeological evidence from the site
of Hochelaga, situated near the campus of the present McGill Univer-
sity at Montreal, relates this agricultural village, visited by Cartier
in 1535, but abandoned before Champlain’s arrival in 1603, to the
Onondaga Iroquois of Jefferson County, N.Y., rather than to the
Mohawk, as has usually been assumed.?
Morgan (1851, p. 5), in his “League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee or
Troquois,”’ repeats the tradition of a St. Lawrence residence for the
Iroquois, when they were “but one nation,’ which had “learned
husbandry from the Adirondacks,” with whom they subsequently
quarreled and were driven up river, to settle inland from the south
shore of Lake Ontario, where tribal subdivision subsequently occurred.
In Herbert M. Lloyd’s annotation of the 1901 edition of Morgan
(1901, pp. 188-190), an elaboration of this concept appears which
apparently provided the basis for A. C. Parker’s migration hypothesis,
first published in 1916. According to Lloyd, the Iroquoian stock
migrated eastward from the headwaters of the Columbia River “not
less than ten centuries ago.”’ They acquired horticulture in the
Mississippi Valley, perhaps from the Illinois. 'The Cherokee separated
in the upper Ohio Valley, the Iroquois moving north, to split again at
Lake Erie. The Onondaga, Oneida, Mohawk, and Huron pushed
eastward, north of Lakes Erie and Ontario; the Seneca, Cayuga, and
Erie also migrated eastward but along the south shores of these lakes.
The Onondaga were the first tribe to enter New York, turning south
at the east end of Lake Ontario. The Mohawk, an offshoot of the
Huron, continued eastward into the lower St. Lawrence Valley.
From this point, Lloyd follows pretty much the traditional account
2 From the writer’s examination of the material from this site in the McCord Museum of McGill Univer-
sity, through the courtesy of Mrs. Alice Turnham and Gordon Lowther, and in the Peabody Museum,
Cambridge, through the courtesy of Philip Phillips. (Cf. MacNeish, 1952, pp. 56, 73.)
In his report on the “‘ Roebuck Prehistoric Village Site, Grenville County, Ontario,’’ Wintemberg (1936,
p. 124) refers to Hochelaga as a probable Mohawk site. He notes close similarities between Roebuck and
Hochelaga pottery and other materials, also between these and probable Onondaga site materials in Jeffer-
son County, N.Y. He concludes that all these sites of the same culture may represent a period prior to
tribal differentiation of Mohawk and Onondaga.
Early Mohawk, however, appears to be characterized by a distinctively different ceramic complex, that
of the so-called ‘‘Chance Horizon’’ (Ritchie, 1952; MacNeish, 1952, p. 71).
Beauchamp, a keen student, believed that the Mohawk were as recent as 1600 in the Mohawk Valley,
and thought this supported the legend of their flight from Montreal. He attributed Mohawk-Huron lin-
guistic similarity to a long contact of these tribes on the St. Lawrence, where the Oneida were also resident
asneighbors. He referred to an Onondaga legend relating the migration of this group ‘‘many hundred moons
ago’’ from the north bank of the St. Lawrence. He considered the sites in St. Lawrence and Jefferson
Counties, N.Y., to be early Onondaga (Beauchamp, 1894, pp. 62-66).
The Huron have also been mentioned as the Iroquois of Hochelaga at the time of Cartier’s visit
(Thwaites, ed., 1896-1901, vol. 5, notes, p. 289) and this identification would seem in better accord with
the linguistic evidence (Robinson, 1948; Lounsbury, this bulletin, pp. 14,17).
No. 4] ARCHEOLOGY—RITCHIE 29
of the subsequent quarrel with Algonquian tribes and the resultant
displacement of the Mohawk into New York.
Parker’s well-known article on “The Origin of the Iroquois as
Suggested by their Archeology,” departs very little from Lloyd’s
general theory (Parker, 1916, pp. 479-507). He derives the early
Huron-Iroquois from an area centering at the mouth of the Ohio
River, where they were in contact with the Caddo, Muskogee, Sioux,
and some Algonquian groups. Already the Iroquois were sedentary
agriculturalists dwelling in stockaded and earth-walled towns. For
some reason they pushed up the Ohio, the Cherokee tribes leading the
way. The latter came into conflict with the Mound Builders, whom
they partially absorbed. Other Iroquois tribes pushing northward
came into hostile contact with the Cherokee-Mound Builder group and
were aided by the Delaware, to finally reach the west end of Lake
Erie. From this point the story closely parallels the earlier postulates,
already outlined.
James B. Griffin, at one time a contributor to the migration method
of accounting for the Iroquois in their historic homeland, felt that
the primary error committed by Parker and his predecessors lay in
their ‘‘failure to correlate the time at which this movement might
have occurred with the archeological culture horizon which was in
existence at the time the movement could have occurred” (Griffin, 1944,
p. 372). According to Griffin, ‘The archeological stage or cultural
period which apparently immediately preceded the development of
Iroquois material culture was that which has been known for some
time as the Hopewellian Phase” (ibid.).*
The material culture basis for a relationship between Hopewellian
and Iroquoian seems to me tenuous, the typological discrepancies
very large in every category of artifacts, and the temporal hiatus, as
revealed by radiocarbon dating, at least 1,300 years, taking the latest
dates for Hopewell of Ohio,‘ and the oldest date for Iroquois in the
Northeast. Moreover, depending upon the particular section of
Iroquoia considered, either or both the later stages of Point Peninsula
and the whole of Owasco, the latter alone radiocarbon-dated in New
York State between about A.D. 9055 —-1435,° demonstrably intervened
between Hopewellian and Iroquoian horizons.
Despite the enduring hold exerted by the sundry migration hypoth-
eses upon students of the Iroquois, it seems a valid conclusion that as
3 Very recently Gordon R. Willey has offered the suggestion “«that the burial mound tradition was brought
into the East, from the South, by peoples of Hokan-Siouan affiliation, possibly the Iroquoians’”’ (Willey,
1958, p. 269).
4 Hopewell site, mound 26, dated between 335 B.C. +210 years (O-137, 2285-210 yrs. B.P., 1950; Arnold
and Libby, 1951, p. 115), and A.D. 5200 yrs. (C-136, 1951-200 yrs. B.P., 1950; ibid.)
5 White site, Chenago County, N.Y. (M-176, 1050-250 yrs. B.P., 1955; Crane, 1956, p. 668).
6 The latter figure is one of two dates on charcoal samples from different pits on the Castle Creek site, viz,
A.D. 1435-£200 years (M-179, 520-200 yrs. B.P., 1955; Crane, 1956, p. 668) and A.D. 1196200 years (M-493,
760-200 yrs. B.P., 1956; Crane and Griffin, 1968, p. 1100). (Ritchie, 1934.)
30 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
a mechanism to account for the northeastern position of the Iroquois
people and their culture, migration fails in demonstrating any route
north, south, or west, over which archeology can convincingly trace
a prior or developmental movement. Without question major move-
ments of Iroquoian groups have taken place within the general
area, as already noted for the exodus of Iroquoian groups from the
St. Lawrence Valley, sometime in the 16th century, but this is quite
another matter from deriving the Iroquois as a whole by mass move-
ment from the same or another locality.
In 1952 a contrary or in situ hypothesis was proposed by Richard S.
MacNeish (1952) which would derive Iroquois cultures from already
recognized archeological assemblages within the Northeast.’ This
hypothesis maintains that there is a “cultural continuity from the
Point Peninsula horizon to the historic Iroquois horizon,”’ and that
the Point Peninsula culture “‘which, with little regional variation
was spread over southern and eastern Ontario and northwestern and
central New York,’ ® “may be considered to be proto-Iroquois.”’
From this general background, “four regional variants with an
Owasco, or an Owascoid, type of material culture developed.” There
was
a general tendency for these Owascoid variants to develop an Iroquoian type of
material culture and to differ further in their material cultures. These further
differentiations of the Iroquois general culture type represent the cultural as-
semblages of specific Iroquois tribes. [MacNeish, 1952, p. 89.]
According to MacNeish (ibid.), three of the Owasco lineages were
developed in New York, one in the east leading to Mohawk, one in
the north to Onondaga-Oneida, the third in the western part of the
State being ancestral to Cayuga-Seneca (and probably the Susque-
hanna). In the Ontario Peninsula area the fourth Owasco variant
was elaborated into the cultural units of the Neutral-Erie and Huron.
Further regional differentiation and separation of the basic groups
resulted in the emergence of the specific tribal subdivisions of historic
times.
MacNeish’s stimulating hypothesis has been variously praised and
criticized, while for the most part being accepted as a working hypoth-
esis by the majority of archeologists in the Iroquois field. MacNeish
himself recognizes certain defects in the scheme which, while infinitely
more promising than the migration interpretation, cannot yet claim
full validity. Almost certainly, however, it will prove to be a sound
basic assumption, but I believe that in its present form it is too
simplistic and facile to account entirely for the evidence at hand.
7 Generally similar views had been earlier expressed, but not elaborated, by, for example, Kraus (1944,
p. 311).
8 Point Peninsula has, in fact, a much wider distribution than this and a great deal of regional variation,
even within the area specified by MacNeish.
No. 4] ARCHEOLOGY—RITCHIE 31
Moreover, it is partially inconsistent with existing radiocarbon dates
for Owasco and Iroquois sites. In a word, I strongly suspect that
Iroquoian cultures represent various composites of traits derived not
only from Owasco and directly or indirectly from Point Peninsula,
but from other cultures in the general area not comprehended within
these cultural categories.
In support of the in situ hypothesis are the following facts, to
which, while rejecting this assumption for want of adequate data at
that time, I called attention 20 years ago (Ritchie, 1938, pp. 98-100):
Corn, bean, and squash agriculture did not first appear in the North-
east with recognized Iroquois cultures. In New York, this agri-
cultural complex, with ancillary hunting, fishing, and collecting, was
unequivocally present in early Owasco manifestations, and there is
some evidence that it goes back much further into the Point Peninsula
horizon. Certain elements of the Iroquois settlement pattern are
also found in Owasco, viz, fortified village sites containing deep storage
pits, sometimes situated on hilltops remote from waterways. The
Owasco manner of burying the dead in the simple flexed position,
usually without grave goods, either in abandoned storage pits within
or peripheral to the village area, or in small, nearby cemeteries,
foreshadows similar practices of the prehistoric Iroquois.
A considerable number of artifact traits are common both to
Owasco and Iroquois cultures (Ritchie, 1944, pp. 41, 46) and finally,
the skeletal remains of both groups are metrically and morpho-
logically so similar as to suggest a continuity of population of the
Lenapid variety (Ritchie, 1944, pp. 74, 100-101; 1954, pp. 31-35;
Ritchie et al., 1953, pp. 14-15; Neumann, 1952, pp. 23-25).
On an earlier level, the general ceramic continuity between late
Point Peninsula and early Owasco has been shown by MacNeish and
the writer, although with certain awkward and inexplicable gaps
(Ritchie and MacNeish, 1949, pp. 120-121). For example, it is most
difficult to account for the complete absence from the Owasco series
of the rocker stamping and dentate decorative techniques, both
of which had risen steadily in popularity through the known Point
Peninsula developmental sequence (ibid., p. 118). Some continuity
is also demonstrable in pipe forms, projectile points, barbed bone
points and certain other traits of the stone and bone assemblages.
Other traits, like the use of gorgets and the placing of grave goods
with the dead, barely survived the Point Peninsula.
As with the Point Peninsula, our excavations in a large series of
Owasco sites have disclosed major developmental trends within this
tradition, traceable primarily in pottery and pipe typologies. Radio-
carbon dates for certain of these sites, as already mentioned, range
between about A.D. 905 and 1435. An important corollary of this
32 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.AE. Bull. 180
study, reflecting adversely on that part of the in situ hypothesis
which derives the western Iroquois groups through Owasco antecedents
in the Ontario Peninsula, is the failure to discover Owasco culture
components west of the Genesee River in New York, despite numer-
ous assertions to the contrary. In southern Ontario, later Point
Peninsula developments seem to have proceeded along somewhat
different lines, concurrently with Owasco developments in New
York, to produce the earliest recognized Iroquois complex of that
area, known as the Uren, believed by Wintemberg (1928, p. 51) to
be proto-Neutral, and by MacNeish (1952, p. 87) to be in the line
of development into Erie, Neutral, and Huron. The current picture
of cultural continuity in southern Ontario seems securely founded
on a remarkable stratigraphic sequence from the Frank Bay site,
at the outlet of Lake Nipissing (Ridley, 1954, pp. 40-50), supported
by evidence from other stratified or nonstratified sites in southern
Ontario (Ritchie, 1949, pp. 3-24; Lee, 1952, pp. 70-73; Ridley, 1958,
pp. 18-39).
Ridley’s Frank Bay sequence consists of eight members, distin-
guished by cultural and soil differences, the lowest being preceramic.
Beginning with the second level, attributable to the middle Point
Peninsula, there is a series of discrete layers showing ceramic and
other changes in material culture traits extending into the contact
period. The materials found seem to illustrate a transition from
middle into late Point Peninsula complexes, thence through a little-
known stage which Ridley calls Frank Bay Transitional, and Lee
elsewhere designates as the Glen Meyer Focus (Lee, Appendix to
Ridley, 1958, pp. 39-40) to the first level of Iroquois ceramics, the
Barrie-Uren complex, already mentioned. Directly above this level
comes the clearly related Webb, or Webb-Middleport assemblage,
followed by Lalonde, and finally by a complex containing European
trade goods and historic period types of Huron pottery.
If we substitute a Glen Meyer for an Owasco stage in the transition
from Point. Peninsula to Iroquois, this southern Ontario sequence
becomes the most convincing part of MacNeish’s hypothesis.
Having recently restudied the Canadian materials I am also con-
vinced that the important Oakfield assemblage in western New York,
where excavations were conducted this summer (1958) by Dr. Marian
White, in part under State Museum sponsorship, represents an
extension into the State of the late Uren-Barrie compiex from southern
Ontario, rather than a local development (White, MS., pp. 179-182).
Unfortunately, while we have in New York well stratified sites of
pre-Iroquoian horizons, nothing comparable to the Frank Bay station
is known. It would be most helpful to discover here components
which would illustrate how the corded collar pot types, linking
No. 4] ARCHEOLOGY—RITCHIE 393
Owasco with early Iroquois (Ritchie and MacNeish, 1949, p. 121),
gave rise, apparently so abruptly, to the incised collar forms of the
latter, especially since these first-known incised forms represent the
finest artistic achievement of its kind in the Iroquois cultures of
New York. Perhaps this changeover from cord impressing to
incising, postulated by MacNeish (MacNeish, 1952, pp. 16, 79),
took place through the intermediacy of the interrupted linear tech-
nique, which had an ephemeral existence in very late Owasco and
very early Iroquois times (Ritchie and MacNeish, 1949, pp. 115-
116; MacNeish, 1952, pp. 18-19), but if so the change proceeded
at an explosive rate.
It is also difficult to interpret such evidence as was found in our
1952 excavations on the Kelso site in central New York. Here 82
percent of a sample of 137 rim sherds belonged to the Owasco Corded
Collar type.® This type had increased steadily in popularity since
middle Owasco times until it constituted nearly one-fourth of the total
ceramic content at the late Owasco Bainbridge site, which MacNeish
postulated as leading directly into proto-Mohawk (MacNeish, 1952,
p. 87). According to trends shown by our ceramic seriation studies,
the Kelso site should be even later than Bainbridge, a conclusion sup-
ported by the fact that at the latter site, only 36 percent of the body
sherds bore a check-stamped surface treatment, another ceramic trait
with a rising index, while at Kelso fully 88.2 percent of the 960 body
sherds were of this kind.” And yet not a single Kelso rim sherd
showed incising, or even the hypothetically intermediary interrupted
linear ornamentation.
However, except for the lack of incising, which has been regarded
as a primary criterion of Iroquois ceramics, the data afforded by the
Kelso site could place this site in a transition series, such as postulated
by the in situ hypothesis.
Mention has already been made of the general parallels between
Owasco and Iroquois settlement pattern traits. There are also some
significant differences which pose a problem for the in situ hypothesis.
By the beginning of historic times the tribal groups of the Iroquois
had been differentiated territorially, culturally, and linguistically.
Each tribe, except perhaps the Oneida, had two or more semiper-
manent villages with satellite communities. Each tribe spoke a com-
mon dialect, and had a council of chiefs who represented not only the
village but the constituent clans thereof. Probably clan lines crossed
village lines by this period.
® The only accompanying types were Owasco Platted and Bainbridge N otched Lip.
10 Other varieties of body finish comprised corded (5 percent), smoothed-over cord (1.1 percent), and
smooth (5 percent). For seriation of Bainbridge site, see Ritchie and MaeNeish, 1949, pp. 118, 120.
34 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
Dwelling units were of longhouse type, sheltering an aggregate of
nuclear families matrilineally related in a clan-structured society.
The household group was, therefore, a unilaterally related kinship
group plus a fringe of spouses. This was the social, economic, and
to some extent the political unit. The extension of the local group
structure to the Iroquois state, and the League as an expansion of the
social and political ideology of longhouse society, have been shown by
Fenton (1951).
The correlation of the sociopolitical aspects of Iroquois culture with
the settlement pattern, forms part of our current archeological in-
vestigations. Historic accounts of Iroquois villages are unanimous
in providing a picture congruous with archeological data from pre-
historic and later sites in Ontario (Emerson, MS.), Pennsylvania
(Kinsey, 1957, pp. 180-181), and New York (Grassmann, 1952, pp.
33-36; Guthe, 1957, pp. 6-7). Our excavations of 1957 on the Get-
man site in the Mohawk Valley have also disclosed the fact that the
early Mohawk of the Upper Chance horizon were already occupying
a palisaded settlement of longhouses, up to 90 feet in length, with
multiple fires, apparently differing in no essential respects from the
historic towns of the same area, although the radiocarbon date of the
Getman site, as determined at the University of Michigan, is A.D.
1398+150 years (M-763, 560+150 years B.P., 1958).
We are attempting to locate still earlier Iroquois components suit-
able for settlement pattern studies, in order to determine how far
back in time this village pattern extends, and what were its anteced-
ents. Our excavations of 1958 on the Bates site uncovered, for the
first time, an entire Owasco community, situated on the Chenango
River in south-central New York.
The pottery from the Bates site lacks the collared and incised types
of the Castle Creek horizon, and has no recognizable Iroquoian traits,
yet a radiocarbon date on a hearth sample, just received from the
University of Michigan, is equivalent to A.D. 1298+200 years
(M-762, 660+200 years B.P., 1958). This falls between the two
dates of A.D. 1196 and A.D. 1435 obtained for the Castle Creek site,
and tends to support the validity of the latter, in view of the respec-
tive ceramic developments of the two sites. It is also only 100 years
earlier than the A.D. 1398 date that I just reported for the early
Mohawk-Iroquois Getman site which, if the carbon-14 figures are
reliable, would have been approximately contemporaneous with the
Castle Creek site, hence the Castle Creek complex could hardly have
given rise to early Mohawk, as is postulated by the current in situ
hypothesis.
The Bates site shared with the early Mohawk Getman site such
features as a stockaded enclosure protecting the dwellings and storage
No. 4] ARCHEOLOGY—RITCHIE 35
pits in which charred corn and wild vegetable-food remains were
found. The evidence for house form is more equivocal. Because of
the plethora of post molds resulting from rebuilding or repairing dwell-
ing units it is uncertain whether round or oval houses are represented,
Except for their larger size, approximately 23 feet in diameter, the
former would accord with prior findings on the earlier Owasco Sackett
or Canandaigua site (Ritchie, 1936, pp. 39-43) and would seem to de-
note single family habitations. An alternate interpretation, however,
suggests the possibility of several stages of expansion of an oval house
structure, conceivably a prototype of the longhouse. This latter
interpretation, if sustained by excavations planned for 1959 on other
Owasco sites, would greatly strengthen the in situ hypothesis.
At present, the overall picture of Iroquois cultural development
seems to me still obscure, and to require for its clarification consider-
able interdisciplinary research, cooperatively focused upon a carefully
formulated and executed long-range plan of investigation. There is
some agreement in recognizing two widely separated and discrete
nuclear centers for this development, one in southeastern Ontario,
the second, pari passu, in eastern, or northeastern New York and
adjacent eastern Ontario. In this second center the evolution of
classic Iroquois culture seems to have taken place.
The western center affords, I believe, the clearest archeological
demonstration of a cultural continuum from middle Point Peninsula
to Iroquois, but without the intermediacy of a true Owasco manifes-
tation. Other Late Woodiand culture complexes, not strictly com-
prehendable within the Point Peninsula tradition, probably also con-
tributed to Iroquois development in this area.
In the eastern center, on the other hand, the sequence from Point
Peninsula through Owasco into Iroquois, seems to be less well defined,
because of apparent discontinuities and suggestions of possible dif-
fusion between two concurrently developing groups, one Owasco,
the other Iroquois. Further research, however, may remove certain
of these difficuities, and clarify the palpable similarities already noted.
They may also reveal in the eastern, as in the western center, other
still unrecognized cultural contributors to Iroquois.
11 These excavations were centered on unexplored areas of the large Canandaigua site and on a previously
unexcavated site of approximately similar size, the Maxon-Derby site, near Jordan, Onondaga County,
N.Y. The latter may represent a slightly earlier stage of Owasco culture than the former. Charcoal samples
from both have been submitted to the University of Michigan for radiocarbon dating.
At Canandaigua, the identifiable house-floor plans were again found to be circular, and about 12 feet in
diameter. A round house, approximately 16 feet across, was also found at the Maxon-Derby site, but here
we uncovered the post-mold pattern of a rectangular structure with rounded corners, measuring about 30
by 22 feet. This was traversed by one wall of an earlier or later structure of much larger size, apparently an
oval house similar to one reconstruction at the Bates site. The complete clearance of this feature was post-
poned to 1960 for lack of adequate time.
Currently the evidence would seem to show that several house forms were in use by Indian groups sharing
the Owasco culture; that two of these, the rectangular and the oval, were communal-type dwellings, whicb
may have given rise to the multifamily longhouse of the Iroquois.
36 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Gradually the distinctions between the eastern and western centers
of development were blurred by interaction until a pan-Iroquois
culture pattern had emerged by late prehistoric times.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ARNOLD, J. R., and Lipsy, W. F.
1951. Radiocarbon dates I. Science, vol. 113, pp. 111-120.
BeaucHamp, W. M.
1894. The origin of the Iroquois. Amer. Antiq. and Oriental Journ., vol. 16,
pp. 61-69.
Buarr, Emma HELEN.
1911. The Indian tribes of the Upper Mississippi Valley and region of the
Great Lakes. Vol. 1. Cleveland.
CoLDEN, CADWALLADER.
1922. The history of the Five Indian Nations of Canada. Vol. 1. New
York.
CRANE, H. R.
1956. University of Michigan radiocarbon dates I. Science, vol. 124, pp.
664-672.
Crane, H. R., and GRriFFin, JAMEs B.
1958. University of Michigan radiocarbon dates II. Science, vol. 127, pp.
1098-1105.
Emerson, J. NoRMAN.
. The archaeology of the Ontario Iroquois. MS., Ph. D. dissertation,
University of Chicago, 1954.
Fenton, WILi1aM N.
1940. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Iro-
quois. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 100, pp. 159-251.
1951. Locality as a basic factor in the development of Iroquois social struc-
ture. Jn Symposium on local diversity in Iroquois culture, ed. by
William N. Fenton. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149, pp. 39-54.
GRASSMANN, THOMAS.
1952. The Mohawk-Caughnawaga excavation. Pennsylvania Archaeol.,
vol. 22, pp. 33-36.
GRIFFIN, JAMES B.
1944, The Iroquois in American prehistory. Pap. Michigan Acad. Sci.,
Arts and Letters, vol. 29 (1943), pp. 357-374.
GutTHE, ALFRED K.
1957. The search for the floor plan of a Seneca structure. Rochester Mus.
Arts and Sci., Mus. Serv., vol. 30, pp. 6-7. Rochester.
JESUIT RELATIONS, see THWAITES.
Kinsey, W. FRED.
1957. A Susquehannock longhouse. Amer. Antiq., vol. 23, pp. 180-181.
Kraus, BERTRAM §.
1944. Acculturation, a new approach to the Iroquoian problem. Amer.
Antiq., vol. 9, pp. 302-318.
Les, THomas E.
1952. A preliminary report on an archaeological survey of Southwestern
Ontario for 1950. Ann. Rep. Nat. Mus. Canada for fiscal year
1950-1951, Bull. No. 126, pp. 64-75.
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MacNersH, Ricuarp §,
1952. Iroquois pottery types, a technique for the study of Iroquois pre-
history. Nat. Mus. Canada, Bull. No. 124.
Morean, Lewis H.
1851. League of the Ho-de-no-sau-nee or Iroquois. Rochester. (1901 ed.,
with annotations by Herbert M. Lloyd, New York.)
NeEuMANN, Grorea K.
1952. Archeology and race in the American Indian. In Archeology of
Eastern United States, ed. by James B. Griffin, pp. 13-34. ‘Chicago.
ParRKER, ARTHUR C.
1916. The origin of the Iroquois as suggested by their archeology. Amer.
Anthrop., vol. 18, pp. 479-507.
RIDLEY, FRANK.
1954. The Frank Bay site, Lake Nipissing, Ontario. Amer. Antiq., vol. 20,
pp. 40-50.
1958. The Boys and Barrie sites. Ontario Archaeol. Soc., Publ. No. 4,
pp. 18-42.
RitcuHi£, WILLIAM A.
1934. An Algonkin-Iroquois site on Castle Creek, Broome County, N.Y.
Res. Rec. Rochester Municipal Mus., No. 2.
1936. A prehistoric fortified village site at Canandaigua, Ontario County,
New York. Res. Rec. Rochester Mus. Arts and Sci., No. 3.
1938. A perspective of Northeastern archaeology. Amer. Antiq., vol. 4,
pp. 94-112.
1944. The pre-Iroquoian occupations of New York State. Rochester Mus.
Arts and Sci., Mem. 1.
1949. An archaeological survey of the Trent Waterway in Ontario, Canada.
Res. and Trans. New York State Archeol. Assoc., vol. 12, No. 1.
1952. The Chance Horizon, an early stage of Mohawk Iroquois cultural
development. New York State Mus., Circ. 29.
1954. Dutch Hollow, an Early Historic Period Seneca site in Livingston
County, New York. Res. and Trans. New York State Archeol.
Assoc., vol. 13, No. 1.
RitcHiz, Witu1aM A., and MacNeisx, Ricuarp S.
‘1949. The pre-Iroquoian pottery of New York State. Amer. Antiq., vol. 15,
pp. 97-124.
Rircu1e, WiuuramM A.; Lente, Donaup; and MriLisr, P. ScHuyLeEr.
1953. An early Owasco sequence in Eastern New York. New York State
Mus., Cire. 32.
Rosinson, Percy J.
1948. The Huron equivalents of Cartier’s second vocabulary. Proc. and
Trans. Royal Soc. Canada, vol. 42, ser. 3, sec. 2, pp. 127-146.
THWAITES, REUBEN GOLD, EDrIToR.
1896-1901. The Jesuit Relations and allied documents, . . . 1610-1791.
73 vols. Cleveland.
Waite, Marian E.
. Iroquois culture history in the Niagara frontier area of New
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WILLEY, Gorpon R.
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38 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
WINTEMBERG, W. J.
1928. Uren prehistoric village site, Oxford County, Ontario. Nat. Mus.
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 5. First Comment on William A. Ritchie’s “‘Irequois
Archeology and Settlement Patterns”
By WILLIAM H. SEARS
39
syed AIOE
if evs age z pes ut Mie a
FIRST COMMENT ON WILLIAM A. RITCHIE’S
“TROQUOIS ARCHEOLOGY AND SETTLEMENT
PATTERNS”
By Wituiam H. Srars
Florida State Museum
It is interesting to note the historical parallelism of Iroquois and
Cherokee archeology. In both cases there was a rather lengthy period
of attempted adaptation of very few real archeological facts to a
combination of aboriginal and anthropological myth and, in both,
efforts at study of the problems of historical development by archeo-
logical techniques have begun only in the last few years, and are
only now really getting under way. The existence of a period of
dependence on unverified and undemonstrable assumption became
very real to me when one professional archeologist asked me seriously
whether I really preferred my own attempts at comprehension of the
archeological evidence, just then emerging for the Cherokee, to the
evidence of Cherokee myth and folklore which the Cherokee themselves
knew to be true.
Looking backward, it is surprising that the in-place hypotheses
were not investigated first. By the nature of archeological evidence,
they are certainly the easiest to prove or disprove. That this did not
happen has something to say, I think, about the historic development
of archeology in Eastern United States.
I might make the comment, easily done by one unfamiliar with
the material, that such problems in tracing continuities as the abrupt
disappearance of rocker and dentate stamping are due to still in-
adequate evidence. In consideration of the number of communities,
each following to some degree its own course of development, which
have been involved over more than a thousand years, it is not too
surprising that evidence for particular transitions which may well have
taken place during 1, or 10, generations, has not yet turned up.
This is, of course, another way of saying that the centers for each
new development, within the defined area, may well be different, so
that what is brand new in one community may be the result of gradual
development among close relatives 2 days’ journey away.
As one who has been bedeviled by check-stamped pottery for a
number of years, I was interested to note that the check-stamped
41
42 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
decoration is well established by mid-Owasco times. This certainly
means that the Cherokee had nothing to do with the introduction
of check-stamping to the Iroquois, since the Cherokee do not appear
to have used the check stamp until after 1700. This appearance
of the check stamp in the Northeast would appear to coincide roughly
with a great spread of this technique in the Southeast, including
such types as St. Johns, Savannah, Wheeler, Pontchartrain, and
Wakulla.
It does not seem to me, basing my opinion on Ritchie’s stated
evidence and Byers’ comment on distribution, that the longhouse is
of great importance—by itself—as evidence in the study of Iroquois
development. When it is present it may demonstrate that a com-
munity was clan structured. Certainly it is a multifamily dwelling,
and one supposes that some system for structuring the relationships
of the biological families in a longhouse was present in prehistoric
times.
Yet the Owasco community pattern, individual houses, in a palisade,
is well known in the Southeastern United States and northward up
the Mississippi drainage. It first appears, apparently, with the Early
Mississippi horizon, and continues to be important into the 16th
century, as exemplified by descriptions of Maubila and Le Moyne’s
drawings of Timucua villages in Northeastern Florida. A clan struc-
ture was probably present in these towns, but I would suppose that in
them, as with 18th-century Creek, Cherokee, and other groups,
the town, expanded politically to locality with surrounding areas,
was the vital sociopolitical factor. That is, that locality was primary,
with kinship structures working under this. The data in Fenton’s
(1951) paper, cited by Ritchie, imply to me that this was also true for
the Iroquois through their known history.
The longhouse then is possible evidence for the existence of a clan
structure. It need not reflect the sociopolitical importance of this
clan system. The longhouse, invented by some Iroquois town or
borrowed from Algonkian neighbors, is not necessarily an indicator
of social change, either in Iroquois development or as between the
Iroquois and any of their neighbors. At best, its adoption as the
dominant type of Iroquois domestic architecture would indicate some
importance of clans. Neighbors with the same architecture may have
had a clan structure but a very different type of overall social struc-
ture. For example, the Powhatan appear to have had longhouses, but
an old Southeastern type of class structure with political and religious
dominance centered in a small but carefully and rigidly marked
upper class.
I would suggest then that the Iroquois share, and have shared for
a lengthy portion of their prehistory, a Southeastern type of organiza-
No. 5] COMMENT—SEARS 43
tion in which the town, and locality, are the dominant factors, with
a politically subsidiary clan-structured kinship system. The conti-
nuity of palisaded towns is perhaps of more importance than a change
in the type of dwellings inside them.
536135—61—_4
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 6. Second Comment on William A. Ritchie’s “*Troquois
Archeology and Settlement Patterns”
By DOUGLAS S. BYERS
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SECOND COMMENT ON WILLIAM A. RITCHIE’S
“TROQUOIS ARCHEOLOGY AND SETTLEMENT
PATTERNS”
By Doveuas S. Byrrs
Robert S. Peabody Foundation
I accept Ritchie’s discussion of the evolution of styles of pottery
attributed to the Iroquois from an early prototype in Point Peninsula,
via Owasco or Glen-Meyer, to the final forms.
Never yet, however, has anyone brought forward convincing
evidence that the people responsible for Point Peninsula pottery were
primarily speakers of an Iroquoian tongue, nor anything but an
assumption that bearers of Owasco or Glen-Meyer culture belonged
to the same linguistic stock.
From a suburban position, at some distance from the center of
Troquoian development, one may take a somewhat detached view.
Close contact with collections from Maine and New Brunswick has
led me to make a few observations.
To begin with, pottery of Point Peninsula style is widely distributed,
not only in Ontario and New York, but also across northern New
England and into New Brunswick. Eastern sites are not as large
and rich as those in New York and Ontario. There is a much smaller
quantity of pottery, but it comprises local variants of such classic
types as Vinette Dentate, Vinette Complex Dentate, Point Peninsula
Rocker Stamped, Jack’s Reef Dentate Collar, Jack’s Reef Corded
Collar, Point Peninsula Corded, and Jack’s Reef Corded. The
last-named is frequently modified by punctations. By strict defini-
tion, these local variants are not identical with classic types in spite
of similar decoration, because pastes and firing are different. How-
ever, there seem to have been skilled potters and excellent clay in the
St. John valley below Fredericton, for sherds from this area in the
New Brunswick Museum are well executed and fired to a hardness
unknown in the general run of Maine pottery.
Corded pottery of one sort or another, including corded-stick-
impressed and corded-paddled, extends from Nova Scotia to Saskat-
chewan. Punctations are common on northern wares, but are rare
in New York—Wickham Punctate, Jack’s Reef Corded-Punctate,
and Castle Creek Punctate are exceptions.
47
AS CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E, Bull. 180
Elements of Owasco and Iroquoian styles also appear in Maine,
but in this case the correspondence is only on the most general level
except for a few sherds from vessels that may have been imports or
the products of captives. In general, Owasco traits appear to have
been used by people who had not followed the directions carefully.
Obviously some cultural ferment was stirring in New York and
Ontario that had no intimate and close connection with Maine.
A point I would like to make here is that pottery of this general
style is widespread in an area traditionally Algonkian. Vessels
often have nodes on the rim, fillets added to lips to thicken them,
and are decorated with dentate or corded stamps applied in a variety
of ways over all or a part of the exterior, as well as on interior surfaces
of rims, and on the lip. In New England and the Maritime Provinces
pottery of the general Point Peninsula tradition follows, in effect, the
distribution of northern tribes—Abenaki, Pennacook, Penobscot,
Passamaquoddy, and Malecite—as opposed to speakers of the I-,
n-, r-, and y-dialects of southern New England.
It Ase: not appear to me that the Iroquois can take all oe for
this. We are here dealing with something much larger than devel-
oping Iroquoian culture.
Turning momentarily to the Anasazi area, we note that linguistic
stocks do not and need not conform to patterns of culture. Observe
the Shoshonean Hopi and the Tewa of Hano living adjacent to one
another on First Mesa with material traits that are in many respects
uniform. When did the Hopi desert the other hunting-gathering
Shoshoneans to become farmers and town builders? The Anasazi
area comprises several linguistic stocks that have long been regarded
as distinct. Linguistic differences and shifting culture of Plains
tribes in historic times serve as further reminders that we cannot be
too dogmatic about identifying languages with material remains.
The longhouse is often thought of as being a product of Iroquois
architects, but the longhouse is also widely distributed in the North-
east, and is especially developed among the Delaware. Illustrations
of longhouses among the Powhatans by John Smith and among the
Roanoke by John White show that these people also used this sup-
posedly Iroquoian form of house. It is known archeologically from
Titicut, Mass. Biard speaks of it in Nova Scotia.
It appears to me that we must bring the Iroquois, like Mohammed,
to the mountain of northeastern traits, including pottery and long-
houses. They must have come so long ago that they have had time
to become completely acculturated, and they must have come at a
time when their own material culture lacked such traits as pottery
that might survive as a trail to regions historically occupied by their
Cherokee congeners. This would also give them time to develop
No. 6] COMMENT—BYERS 49
some of these traits to such an extent that people have readily accepted
them as inventions of the Iroquois.
If I were asked to name any archeological group in the Northeast
as candidates for the honor of introducing the Iroquoian language,
my finger would settle on Lamoka, in spite of the fact that Willey
has backed people of the Burial Mound stage for this position.
Lamoka has long seemed out of place in this area; the Lamoka people
may well be migrants from the South and West, possibly from the
lower reaches of the Ohio. The distinctive beveled adz has been
found not only in the Ontario peninsula, but also along the Allegheny
in northwestern Pennsylvania; beyond that, the stonework of Lamoka
gives no clue. The bone industry, however, points on down the
Ohio toward the Kentucky Archaic. Webb and Haag (1940) pointed
this out and Ritchie (1944) concurred; both sources enumerate similar-
ities and differences. In the Kentucky Archaic there is an extensive
bone industry. Utilitarian implements display many parallels
between Lamoka and sites in Kentucky. Duplication of typical
Lamoka notched antler strips at the Ward, Read, and Annis sites is
particularly striking. Seeming identity of forms that do not appear
to have any utilitarian function is, possibly, more convincing than
parallel forms of awls, hafts for rodent incisors, and so forth.
No atlatl weight was found at Lamoka. Not one hook is recorded
among the bone implements. It therefore seems necessary to add one
more condition—that the Lamoka people and the people responsible
for the sites in Kentucky must have separated before the stone weight
was developed for the spearthrower.
I have already said that no one has offered proof that makers of
Point Peninsula-Owasco pottery spoke Iroquois. There is no proof
that Lamoka people spoke ancestral Iroquois either, nor that the
people of the Indian Knoll Focus spoke ancestral Cherokee. Nor is
there proof that the Lamoka people came from the South and that
the Indian Knoll people did not come from the North as we were ready
to believe they did 20 years ago. I can see no merit in my suggestion
that Lamoka came from the South except that it offers a possible
means of introducing ancestral Iroquoian into the lower Great Lakes
basin at a time sufficiently remote to allow for acculturation to a
northeastern pattern, and differentiation into dialects.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BIARD, FATHER PIERRE.
1616. Relation of New France, of its lands, nature of the country and of its
inhabitants. ... In The Jesuit Relations and allied docu-
ments, . . . 1610-1791, Thwaites, Reuben Gold, ed., 1896-1901,
vol. 3, pp. 21-283.
50 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
FLANNERY, REGINA.
1939. An analysis of coastal Algonquian culture. The Catholic University
of America, Anthrop. Ser. No. 7.
Hariot, THOMAS.
1590. A brief and true report of the new found land of Virginia. London.
(Reprinted 1871, New York.)
Lorant, STEFAN, ED1ToR.
1946. The New World: The first pictures of America made by John White
and Jacques Le Moyne. ... New York.
RipiEey, FRANK.
1958. The Boys and Barrie sites. Ontario Archaeol. Soc., Publ. No. 1.
RitcHig£, WiLiiaM A.
1932 a. The Lamoka Lake site, type station of the Archaic Algonkin Period
in New York. Res. and Trans., New York State Archaeol. Assoc.,
vol. 7, No. 1.
1932 b. The Algonkin sequence in New York. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 34,
pp. 406-414.
1944. The pre-Iroquoian occupations of New York State. Rochester Mus.
Arts and Sci., Mem. No. 1.
Rircute, WiuuiaM A., and MacNezisu, Ricwarp S.
1949. The pre-Iroquoian pottery of New York State. Amer. Antiq., vol.
15, pp. 97-124.
SmitH, JOHN.
1907. The general historie of Virginia, New England, and the Summer
Isles. ... Glasgow.
TuwairEes, REUBEN GoLp, Epitor.
1896-1901. The Jesuit Relations and allied documents, . . . 1610-1791
73 vols. Cleveland.
Wess, WILLIAM 8.
1946. Indian Knoll, Site Oh 2, Ohio County, Kentucky. Univ. Kentucky
Rep. in Archaeol. and Anthrop., vol. 4, No. 3, pt. 1.
1950 a. The Carlson Annis mound, Site 5, Butler County, Kentucky. Univ.
Kentucky Rep. in Archaeol. and Anthrop., vol. 7, No. 4.
1950 b. The Read shell midden, Site 10, Butler County, Kentucky. Univ.
Kentucky Rep.in Archaeol. and Anthrop., vol.7, No. 5.
Wess, WiuuiaAM S., and Haac, WILLIAM G.
1939. The Chiggerville Site, Site 1, Ohio County, Kentucky. Univ. Ken-
tucky Rep. in Archaeol. and Anthrep., vol. 4, No. 1.
1940. The Cypress Creek villages, Sites 11 and 12, McLean County, Kentucky.
Univ. Kentucky Rep. in Archaeol. and Anthrop., vol. 4, No. 2.
1947. Archaic sites in McLean County, Kentucky. Univ. Kentucky Rep.
in Archaeol. and Anthrop., vol. 7, No. 1.
WHITE, JOHN, see Hariot, 1590, and Lorant, 1946.
Witiny, Gorpon R.
1958. Archaeological perspective on Algonkian-Gulf linguistic relationships.
Southwestern Journ. Anthrop., vol. 14, pp. 265-272.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 7. Cherokee Archeology
By JOFFRE L. COE
et i
¥ fe l
EA eae Skala
CHEROKEE ARCHEOLOGY
By Jorrre L. Con
University of North Carolina
One hundred and eighty-two years ago a gentleman from Phila-
delphia left Charlestown, S.C. to visit the Cherokee Nation in the
westward mountains. Traveling alone on horseback he reached the
headwaters of the Savannah River 3 weeks later and there at the
abandoned Fort Prince George observed the old Cherokee town of
Keowee. He described it as the ‘feeble remains of the once potent
and renowned Cherokees: the vestiges of the ancient Indian dwellings
are yet visible on the feet of the hills bordering and fronting on the
vale, such as posts or pillars of their habitations. There are several
Indian mounts or tumuli, and terraces” (Bartram, 1940, p. 270).
After resting several days he left Fort Prince George and began the
climb of the mountain proper. On the way he passed through several
abandoned towns and finally, on reaching the summit, he saw the ruins
of the “‘ancient famous town of Sticoe. Here was a vast Indian mount
or tumulus and great terrace, on which stood the council-house, with
banks encompassing their circus; here were also old Peach and Plumb
orchards; some of the trees appeared yet thriving and fruitful”
(ibid., p. 280). At this point, Bartram took the right-hand trail and
began the descent of the Little Tennessee River into North Carolina
and the “vale of Cowe.’’ He passed through the towns of Echoe
and Nucasse, and at Whatoga, lost his way and rode his horse up to
“the council-house, which was a very large dome or rotunda, situated
on the top of an ancient artificial mount” (ibid., p. 284). Later he
reached his destination, the ‘capital town of Cowe,” and again de-
scribed the town house as standing “‘on the top of an ancient artificial
mount of earth, of about twenty feet perpendicular” (ibid., p. 296).
In other words, throughout his journey from Keowee to Cowe, Bar-
tram observed the association of town houses and mound substructures
in nearly every Cherokee town. In writing about them, however,
he concluded that the “(Cherokees themselves are as ignorant as we
are, by what people or for what purpose these artificial hills were
raised; . . . that they found them in much the same condition as
they now appear, when their forefathers arrived from the West”
(ibid., p. 296). This statement has had a profound effect upon the
53
54 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
interpretation of Cherokee prehistory and has consistently been
used as prima facie evidence for the facts that: (1) Cherokees did not
build temple mounds, and (2) Cherokees only recently settled in the
area. It seems to me that both of those assumptions are untenable
in light of present knowledge and that Bartram’s statements should
be considered in the same spirit as his description of the ‘Elysian
fields’”’ and the “‘companies of young, innocent Cherokee virgins.”
By the end of the 19th century the linguistic relationship of the
Cherokee to the northern Iroquois and the Carolina Tuscarora was
fairly well known. The diversity of their habitat and customs,
however, had led to considerable speculation as to when and where
these tribes had originally separated. In 1898, Mooney stated in
his ‘‘Myths of the Cherokees’’:
The Iroquoian stock, to which the Cherokee belong, had its chief home in the
north, .... It is evident that tribes of common stock must at one time have
occupied contiguous territories, and such we find to be the case in this instance.
The Tuscarora and Meherrin, and presumably also the Nottoway, are known to
have come from the north, while tradition and historical evidence concur in
assigning to the Cherokee as their early home the region about the headwaters
of the Ohio, . . . . [Mooney, 1900, p. 17.]
Mooney adds, however, that—
while there can now be no question of the connection, the marked lexical and
grammatical differences indicate that the separation must have occurred at a
very early period. [ibid., p. 16.]
As the efforts of the archeclogists and ethnologists continued during
the first decade of the 20th century it began to appear that the Iro-
quois shared more traits with the southern or midwestern area than
they did with their northern neighbors. In 1916, Parker formulated
a new hypothesis on Iroquois origin in which he hoped to explain the
data then available. He suggested that the home of all the Iroquois
was in the middle Mississippi Valley rather than in the area north
of the St. Lawrence. He postulated that the Cherokee moved up
the Ohio first and were followed by other groups of proto-lroquois.
Somewhere on the way, probably near the Kanawha or Big Sandy
Rivers, these groups came into conflict and the Cherokee went south
while the others continued north to their historic locations. Parker
published substantially the same argument again in 1922 and 1926.
To summarize briefly, there have been many published accounts
dealing with the origin and migration of the Cherokee. They have
been moved into their mountain home from the north, the west, the
south, and even from the east. The one point, however, that these
fact-folklore-fiction accounts did have in common was a belief in
recent arrival of the Cherokee into the Southern Appalachian area.
No. 7] ARCHEOLOGY—COE ay)
According to these accounts they had just settled in their historic
location when Kuropean contact was first made.
The archeological studies that have been made in the Cherokee
area have not helped clarify this situation. If anything, they have
resulted in more confusion. The first extensive excavations were
begun by Cyrus Thomas about 75 years ago, and he had no trouble
arriving at a ‘‘Cherokee complex” (Thomas, 1890). The sites that
he investigated in the area of historic Cherokee occupation were, of
course, Cherokee. Since his main ambition was to demonstrate that
mounds were built by Indians and not by some vanished and mysti-
cal race he had little incentive to look for depth in time or prior oc-
cupation by non-Cherokee.
Thirty-two years after Thomas published his ‘‘Cherokee in Pre-
Columbian Times,” Harrington (1922) published his ‘‘Cherokee and
Earlier Remains on the Upper Tennessee River.” This latter study
was based upon fieldwork done by Harrington and Turbyfill in the
fall of 1919 on the Tennessee River between the mouths of the Little
Tennessee and the Hiwassee Rivers. This much maligned work was
actually progressive for its time and Harrington’s cultural sequence of
three periods still has some validity today. His identification of these
cultures as the remains of the Algonquian, Siouan, and IJroquoian
(Cherokee), unfortunately, left much to be desired, but I should add
that in explaining cultural change by migration Harrington was
keeping good company and that this convenient device continues to
be used when more specific data is not available. In concluding,
Harrington suggested that there were at least two interpretations for
the origin of the Cherokee. In the first, he followed Parker’s migra-
tion theory and brought the Cherokee “in from the upper Ohio valley
in comparatively recent times . . .” and Bartram’s observation that
“the mounds exhibited the same appearance upon the arrival of the
Cherokees as they now do.” In the second, he suggested that the
Cherokee arrived “‘in the upper Tennessee valley at an early date and
displaced the more primitive Algonquian tribes which then occupied
the region” (Harrington, 1922, pp. 290-292). Harrington was in-
clined to favor this last point of view and felt that there was consider-
able evidence to show that his ‘second culture” was actually ancestral
Cherokee.
Archeology on a grand scale did not begin in Tennessee until
January 1934. Within 6 months a total of 23 sites were investigated
in the Norris Basin. Fifty-four wooden structures were examined
on these sites and 20 of them were identified as “town houses.’”’ In
Webb’s report, published in 1938, he devoted considerable space to
trait-list comparisons between sites within the basin and between a
few selected sites known elsewhere in the neighboring areas. He
56 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM ([B.A.E. Bull. 180
recognized that some of the material from certain ‘‘cave sites’’ differed
from the ‘‘valley sites’ and suggested a primitive Algonquian con-
nection. In this respect he apparently was following Harrington’s
suggestion concerning the “round grave’’ culture, although he does
not say so. The ‘valley sites” were divided into two groups which
he called the ‘‘small-log town-house people” and the “large-log town-
house people.’”’ These people he reasoned could not have been
Cherokee because the “‘Cherokee never at any time built rectangular
town houses. All such structures appearing on sites occupied by
Cherokee in historic times are to be regarded as the work of an
earlier people.’’ Furthermore, the “Cherokee built only circular
town houses on mounds erected by an earlier people... .” He
finally dismissed the Cherokee completely by concluding that they
had ‘first occupied Little Tennessee River. in the last quarter of the
seventeenth century” and besides ‘“‘Cherokee material culture cannot
be exactly defined because many traits are too widespread” (Webb,
1938, pp. 277-379). Creek material culture, however, he could define,
for he proceeded to identify the builders of the “large-log town-
houses” as the Creek and the builders of the ‘‘small-log town-houses”’
as the Yuchi. The concept of culture change through time is com-
pletely absent from this study. All observed differences were assumed
to be the result of ‘‘different people.’”’ The builders of the small-log
town houses were, according to Webb, a “separate and distinctly
different people with whom the Creeks were associated on terms of
friendship ....” (ibid., p. 380). This need for friendship cer-
tainly becomes obvious when it is found that these ‘separate and
distinctly different people’? sometimes occupied a superimposed
position on the same site.
Following the work in the Norris Basin, the University of Tennessee
continued the extensive program of excavations in and around the
Cherokee area until the beginning of World War II. In the fall of
1934 Lewis excavated a town-house mound on the lower French Broad
River in eastern Tennessee. This was one of the sites that Webb
‘used for his comparison and it showed a great deal in common with
sites 10 and 19 in the Norris Basin. In a brief paper published in
1935 Lewis stated that the “‘engraved designs on shell gorgets, pottery
designs, and other cultural-indicative materials seem to suggest that
the inhabitants were certainly not Cherokee ... .”’ (Lewis, 1935,
p- 158).
In 1941 the report of the 1934 excavations at the Peachtree mound
was published. This was a site situated in the heart of the Cherokee
country in western North Carolina. It was occupied during the
historic period, and, for just cause, the authors ‘‘asserted that the
traits reported here do represent the material culture of a group of
No. 7] ARCHEOLOGY—COE 57
Cherokee” who had inhabited this site (Setzler and Jennings, 1941,
p. 12). In brief, it was a pyramidal substructure mound which con-
tained a series of superimposed town houses. In most respects it did
not differ greatly from the sites previously mentioned in east Ten-
nessee, but the ceramic style did. Approximately 90 percent of the
pottery was grit tempered and carved paddle stamped. This, of
course, contrasted sharply with the shell-tempered smooth ware in
Tennessee and seems to have assumed undue proportions as an
indicator of Cherokee culture.
It is of special interest to note that Setzler and Jennings were not
unduly influenced by Bartram’s ghost. They realized that this was a
mound built by the people who used it and that this culture obviously
had some time depth in the area. They also suggested that it was—
possible that the three levels described by Harrington should be considered as a
Cherokee complex. If so, the ‘‘Round Grave People’”’ (would) typify the culture
used by the Cherokee upon their arrival in the Tennessee Valley; the pre-Cherokee
might be a transitional stage; while the Cherokee represents the final adoption of
the general Southeastern pattern. ([Setzler and Jennings, 1941, p. 52.]
Two years later, Lewis (1943) again briefly discussed the Cherokee
problem in a paper entitled ‘‘Late Horizons in the Southeast.” He
continued the interpretation begun by Webb and identified his
Dallas Focus with the Muskhogean and his Mouse Creek Focus,
specifically, as Yuchi. He also considered the Cherokee occupation
to be too little and too late to be significant in an interpretation of
Tennessee prehistory. He did suggest, however, that ‘“‘the Cherokee
may have been responsible for a series of cultures of respectable
antiquity which centered in Georgia ... .” (Lewis, 1943, p. 311).
This was based upon the fact that on some Cherokee sites there was
a “definite association of check-stamped and complicated-stamped
pottery with historic Cherokee culture ....” (ibid., p. 311).
Lewis and Kneberg in publishing their excellent study, ‘““Hiwassee
Island,”’ in 1946, were again faced with the problem of identifying
Cherokee culture. For the most part they followed the line of
reasoning previously outlined. They identified the mound-building
period there with the Creeks, and they stated that ‘It is our convic-
tion that the Cherokee never inhabited the lower Hiwassee River or
the Tennessee River until long after white contact” (Lewis and
Kneberg, 1946, p. 17). In this connection it is interesting to recall
that Webb predicted in 1938 that if the—
idea is at all tenable that the Cherokee erected historic circular town houses on
earth mounds built by this earlier people [Creeks], it should be possible to find
one mound as yet undisturbed in the region of the Cherokee settlement, which
might show the pattern of a “rotunda” at its top and a rectangular post-mold
pattern at its base. [Webb, 1938, p. 377.]
58 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Lewis and Kneberg found the rectangular structures at Hiwassee
Island as predicted, but they also found circular structures associated
with early phases of mound building.
It should also be noted that at this site a small percent of the
pottery associated with the Hiwassee or earlier component showed
complicated stamped designs of the ‘“‘Htowah variety,” and that a
few complicated stamped sherds similar to the ‘Lamar variety”
were found associated with the Dallas or later component. At the
Peachtree site there was something of a parallel situation. The
primary mound contained a substantial amount (22.8 percent) of
shell-tempered pottery. This Lewis and Kneberg have identified as
“Dallas” and imply that this earlier occupation at Peachtree was
probably Creek and not Cherokee. ‘The presence of red-filmed,
red-on-buff, and stamped pottery of the ‘““Htowah variety,’ however,
suggests a closer correlation with their earlier Hiwassee component.
The later period at Peachtree was represented almost entirely by
“Tamar type” pottery and this material is what should be compared
with the Dallas component at Hiwassee Island where similar material
was found. In brief, Lewis and Kneberg have suggested a high
degree of correlation between Cherokee culture and the long sequence
of complicated stamped pottery in the Georgia area, and, at least, in
Tennessee, the late arrival of the Cherokee and their settlement in
towns that had previously been prepared for them by the Creeks.
This association of the Georgia tradition of stamped pottery with
the Cherokee was given a strong endorsement in 1955 by Sears in his
article ‘“Creek and Cherokee Culture in the 18th Century.” In this
paper Sears elaborated on the Lewis and Kneberg suggestion that the
complicated stamped pottery in Georgia was part and parcel of
Cherokee culture. He further suggested that this cultural develop-
ment took place in Georgia north of the fail line and that ‘“‘the 18th-
century Cherokee culture developed in the Underhill area and later
spread to the north.’”’ Although this may have been the case some
of the reasons he offered apparently need reexamining. To say that
the “angular motifs characteristic of Cherokee complicated stamping
appear only in north Georgia . . . .”’ overlooks the existence of similar
motifs in the Pee Dee area of North and South Carolina. Also, while
check stamping may be a “‘late addition to the Cherokee ceramic com-
plex” in north Georgia it appears much earlier in the area of the
Middle and Valley Settlements (Sears, 1955, p. 147).
Although it is true that the ‘‘Lamar”’ pottery style can be associated
with historic Cherokee, it should be emphasized that the historic
Catawba and a number of Muskhogean groups were doing just as well
by this popular style. While archeologists must use the evidence that
is available to them they should certainly not lose sight of the fact
No. 7] ARCHEOLOGY—COE 59
that there is no necessary correlation between ethnic and ceramic
continuity. For example, the Occanneechi made a complete transfer
from cord and net-marked pottery in 1675 to simple and check-
stamped pottery in 1700, and their linguistic cousins, the Catawba,
had adopted the ‘Lamar’ style nearly a hundred years earlier.
While it may be that the hand that rocks the cradle molds the
character of a nation I do not believe that the shape of the paddle
that paddles the pot has quite the same effect.
The Cherokee settlements in historic times were fer from homo-
- geneous, and there are no compelling reasons why they should have
been more so a few hundred years earlier. Those towns closest to and
first to come under the influence of the Mississippian type cultures
should be expected to reflect that situation, and the difference between
Hiwassee and Peachtree may be one of degree rather than kind. In
the same way, it would be surprising to find that the Underhill towns
of the Cherokee did not participate in the ceramic tradition of north
Georgia. All of Cherokee culture certainly cannot be identified
through time by a single ceramic label.
Finally, it seems hardly necessary to look for any recent migration
of the Cherokee into their historic area. There is sufficient archeo-
logical data to suggest that they were already occupying it by the close
of the Archaic Period. In western North Carolina the Harly Wood-
land Period began with the introduction of ceramics and small conical
burial mounds. The basic pottery was cerd and fabric marked but
plain and stamped wares became progressively more important.
Simple, check, and angular complicated stamps were applied to vessels
with flat or pedestal bases and tetrapod supports. ‘Toward the end
of this period the rims were thickened and collars were added. Incised
and punctated decorations were applied together with castellations
and nodes. The significance in this is that here in the Cherokee area
there appear, apparently as early as in New York, certain charac-
teristics that have become closely identified with the northern Iroquois.
It is also significant that these characteristics appear on pottery that
seems to be ancestral to that used by at least some of the historic
Cherokee.
By tradition, history, archeology, and intuition the Cherokee have
been moved south from the Ohio and the St. Lawrence, west from the
Mississippi, east into Tennessee, and north out of Georgia. For the
most part, the conclusions regarding the Cherokee have come about
as the byproduct of work oriented toward other problems. In recent
years the University of Georgia has been working directly with the
Cherokee problem in its State and this work should contribute much
to a better understanding of Cherokee occupation there. I do not
believe, however, that work on the periphery will ever solve the heart
536135—61——5
60 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
of this problem. A thorough investigation of the Middle and Valley
towns of the Cherokee must be completed before many of the present
questions can be answered.!
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BARTRAM, WILLIAM.
1940. The travels of William Bartram. Ed. by Mark Van Doren. New York.
Harrineton, M. R.
1922. Cherokee and earlier remains on upper Tennessee River. Indian Notes
and Monographs [Miscellaneous No. 24], Mus. Amer. Indian, Heye
Foundation. New York.
Lewis, T. M. N.
1935. The lure of prehistoric Tennessee. Journ. Tennessee Acad. Sci.,
vol. 10, pp. 1538-159.
1943. Late Horizons in the Southeast. Proc. Amer. Philos. Soc., vol. 86,
pp. 304-312.
Lewis, T. M. N., and Kneperc, MADELINE.
1946. Hiwassee Island: An archaeological account of four Tennessee Indian
peoples. Knoxville.
Mooney, JAMES.
1900. Myths of the Cherokee. 19th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1897-98,
pt. 1, pp. 38-576.
Sears, Wiviiam HH.
1955. Creek and Cherokee culture in the 18th century. Amer. Antiq., vol.
21, pp. 148-149.
SETZLER, Frank M., and JENNINGS, JESSE D.
1941. Peachtree mound and village site, Cherokee County, North Carolina.
Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 131.
Tuomas, Cyrus.
1890. The Cherokees in pre-Columbian times. New York.
Wess, WILLIAM 8.
1938. An archaeological survey of the Norris Basin in Eastern Tennessee.
Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 118.
1 The University of North Carolina is beginning in 1960 a 5-year program of archeological research devoted
to these problems of Cherokee origin and cultural tradition.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 8. Comment on Joffre L. Coe’s “Cherokee Archeology”
By CHARLES H. FAIRBANKS
61
bee
Bek
Be
asthe
COMMENT ON JOFFRE L. COE’S “CHEROKEE
ARCHEOLOGY”
By Cuartuses H. Farrpanks
Florida State University
Coe raises two problems, the solution to either of which would be
of considerable value to the general understanding of the relationship
between the Iroquois and Cherokee. The first concerns the origin of
Cherokee ceramic styles. The second concerns similar questions
regarding the relationships between Cherokee and other Southeastern
pottery styles.
Coe has indicated that peripheral 18th-century Cherokee sites
contain, among other styles, both check-stamped and complicated-
stamped pottery. Check-stamped pottery first appeared in the South-
east at about 200 B.C. After a fairly short duration it was replaced
in some places by simple-stamped pottery. In other places it was
replaced by complicated-stamped pottery. Rectilinear stamps of the
Etowah styles may have been confined to the Piedmont region of
Georgia, Tennessee, and the Carolinas. Curvilinear stamps of the
Savannah, Willbanks, and Lamar styles spread gradually northward
along the Atlantic slope until they reached such varied peoples as the
Troquoian Cherokee and the Siouan Catawba.
At the time of the DeSoto passage through the Southeast in 1539-41,
the expedition traversed a large area north of Florida where the place
names were Muskogean. After this they came to an area where
probable Cherokee forms are recorded. The only late prehistoric
pottery type of comparable extent north of peninsular Florida is the
Lamar area. It seems likely that Muskogean peoples, at least the
Hitchiti, made Lamar styles of pottery.
While these developments were taking place, check-stamped tech-
niques were slowly spreading up the Atlantic slope ahead of compli-
cated stamping. By Castle Creek times they were present among
such linguistically diverse groups as the Iroquois and Munsee Dela-
ware.
During the 18th century the Cherokee made check-stamped pottery
quite similar to that of the Muskogean Apalachee and Ocmulgee, the
63
64 CHEROKEHE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Siouan Sara and Occaneechi, the Iroquois proper, and the Algonquian
Delaware. Cherokee complicated-stamped pottery was also shared
with the Muskogean Apalachee and Hitchiti, as well as the Siouan
Catawba. The Muskogean inhabitants of the Georgia coast made
related styles.
One basic problem is certainly to explain the reappearance, on an
18th-century horizon, of check-stamped pottery in the Southeast.
Cherokee, Sara, Occaneechi, Iroquois, Delaware, Apalachee, Timucua,
Ocmuilgee, and probably Hitchiti made this style. It had been gen-
erally absent for over a millennium in the Southeast but was present
to some extent on the Middle Atlantic slope during the preceding
centuries.
Are we to explain the general popularity of the style in the South-
east historic sites as due to southward raids by Iroquois during the
18th century? It could as well be related to the dispersion of the
Delaware in Revolutionary times. Or are we to consider that the
Cherokee, and other tribes as well, reverted to an ancestral style
under the disorganizing conditions of the colonial skin-trade? If we
use it as evidence that the Cherokee originated in the Southeast we
must apply the same rule to the other Siouan and Muskogean peoples
who shared the style. Or are we to regard it as an independent de-
velopment resulting in a simplification of stamping techniques under
the rapid acculturation of the times? The presence of check-stamped
pottery in prehistoric Cherokee levels would argue against this
assumption.
Very similar questions are raised by the circumstance that Cherokee,
Catawba, and Hitchiti made ‘Lamar’ styles of complicated-stamped
pottery and suggest that we cannot prove the Southeastern origins of
the Cherokee by this evidence. While we maintain that there is no
necessary connection between linguistic forms and ceramic tech-
nologies, we must be alert to the possibility of using material culture
clues to unravel the entire culture history. The present evidence
strongly suggests that the Cherokee-Iroquois separation took place
some time ago. There would appear to have been sufficient time for
the Iroquois to have acquired the material culture of a northern
area and the Cherokee to have acquired Southern Appalachian styles.
We cannot, at present, be sure that any late check-stamped or
curvilinear complicated-stamped pottery is necessarily Cherokee. We
cannot, therefore, use their ceramic styles as evidence for the South-
eastern origin of the Cherokee. What we do need is a better descrip-
tion of the range of Cherokee ceramics and additional information on
18th-century Cherokee culture. The direct historical approach offers
ereat rewards, but it cannot be applied on the basis of test-pit samples.
Ritchie and MacNeish (1949) have indicated the origins of various
No. 8] COMMENT—FAIRBANKS 65
Troquois tribal ceramic complexes in New York State. The same re-
sults can be expected in the Southeast.
On the ethnohistorical level, we should consider the rewards that
might result from a careful comparison of Cherokee culture, as re-
vealed in contemporary documents, with the complete archeological
manifestation. On the basis of present evidence we can suggest that
the Cherokee were resident in the Southeast for a fairly long time.
They certainly had time to participate in the ceremonial, ceramic,
and general cultural evolution of the region. That the Iroquois also
participated in a similar endemic culture pattern in New York State
simply means that the two peoples separated fairly early. The
Catawba, Cherokee, and probably the Hitchiti seem to have been
equally long in the Southeast, judging from their curvilinear stamped
pottery.
The Muskogee or Upper Creek seem to be either more recent
arrivals or not to have taken over as much of the Southern Appalach-
ian tradition. This may be less a function of time than of their more
western position and orientation. At any rate, we do not yet know
enough about Cherokee ceramics to deduce much about tribal move-
ments from their paddle-carving predilections.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ritcuie, Witu1AmM A., and MacNetsu, RIcHarRD S.
1949. The pre-Iroquoian pottery of New York State. Amer. Antiq., vol. 15,
pp. 97-124.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 9. Eastern Woodlands Community Typology and
Acculturation
By JOHN WITTHOFT
67
i
Feline) isi
A
HASTERN WOODLANDS COMMUNITY TYPOLOGY
AND ACCULTURATION
By Joun WIrttHort
Pennsylvamia Historical and Museum Commission
Field studies of North Carolina Cherokee ethnology pose many
problems concerning the past and present culture of the reservation.
Some of the most difficult of these pertain to the continuum between
the aboriginal farming village and the modern chaotic plantation
farmstead settlement pattern. Other Indian communities which I
have visited pose similar problems: how did the modern disorganized
cultural and social situations grow out of a very different past, a
past we know best in the archeology of the aboriginal village? Here
the mere reconstruction of past situations is a peripheral question;
a more central one is, what were and are the actual contexts for the
culture traits and behavior patterns that we observe as vestiges and
that we elicit as memory-ethnology? Certainly we are not examining
the mere fossils of a way of life that ended four centuries ago. Rather,
the ethnographic data pertain to many differing contexts that span
this time interval; they are fragments of many things, rather than the
imperfect content of a single cultural entity.
In field studies of Cherokee herbalism and magical practice, I
became concerned with problems of time level and acculturation
stage for many of these phenomena. Generally, I seem to be study-
ing the medicine practice of 1850, a complex quite different from that
of the present and from that of the period of first contact. I compiled
a series of fragmentary essays toward a history of Cherokee medicine,
rather than a compendium of Cherokee pharmacology and practice.
Kinship, house life, and many other phases of Cherokee life required
similar definition of context and time level. Furthermore, it seemed
possible to deal with these shifting phenomena by stages rather than
as disconnected data of history. I began to discuss these problems
with more old-fashioned Indians and my present thinking follows
their ideas very closely. This view is neither very spectacular nor
very optimistic, but I believe it has relevance to many of our modern
reservation situations. ;
In agricultural areas of the Eastern Woodlands and Mississippi
Basin, the ancient community as seen dimly through archeology and
69
70 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
history was remarkably homogeneous. It was a compact village
made up of households of somewhat various sizes, surrounded by
the agricultural land of the community. Its topography was much
like that of the ancient and medieval farming village of Europe and
the Near East. However, unlike the feudal towns of the Old World,
its households were generally larger than the nuclear family and its
social structures were markedly matriarchal. Households composed
of more than one married couple were ordinary, and in some areas
the normal household was a group of sisters and parallel cousins
(sisters in the local classificatory kinship systems) with their children,
grandchildren, and other relatives of their lineage, along with husbands
of various other lineages. As in the Southwest, a husband was at-
tached to his wife’s household more than he was a part of it. His
primary roots were in his mother’s household, and at times he seemed
to be little more than a visitor in his wife’s home.
Within agricultural North America, it is possible to do some rough
mapping of community-pattern types. With a developing archeology
of the villages, greater precision will be possible. In marginal areas,
such as northern New England and Minnesota, our information
will continue to be vague, because of sparse historical data, early
destruction of native culture patterns, and the poverty of archeolog-
ical resources. However, within broad frames we can map several
subtypes of village life and plot concentric zones of population density
within areas. In this attempt, the Southwest and the Missouri
Valley region will be omitted even though these are of equal im-
portance to the continental picture.
In the Southeast and Mississippi Valley, villages were made up
of small houses occupied by households not much larger than the
nuclear family. Whether fortified or not, houses were closely packed
around a central plaza or square. This plaza served as a temple
area for community ritual, and may sometimes have been an actual
building rather than a mere floor. Near this square and in a central
area was the men’s house which was both a home and a ritual build-
ing. It was occupied by men of the community who were not resident
in their mothers’ houses or in the homes of their spouses. Many of
them were older men and widowers, and some were men who had
married into the community but who had no share in the land titles
because they belonged to lineages that were located elsewhere. This
special buildmg was the nucleus of men’s activities, and it served
as the temple for their ritual, war rites, ball play ceremony, and the
formal training of youth. Men’s houses are best represented by the
earth lodge or hothouse of the Creeks and Cherokee. Many of the
temple-mound structures of the Southeast and Mississippi Valley
seem to be archeological buildings of this sort.
No. 9] TYPOLOGY AND ACCULTURATION—WITTHOFT val
The center of distribution for this settlement plan, with small
houses clustered around a plaza and men’s house, is in the lower
Mississippi Valley and the valleys of the Arkansas and the Red
Rivers. In those regions, towns were largest, were most numerous,
and had the highest population densities within each community.
Farther to the east and north, communities of this pattern become
smaller and less numerous than those in the lower valley, although
some sites on the upper Mississippi are more sizable than any in the
Atlantic dramage systems. The northeastern limits of this settle-
ment pattern are in the upper Ohio Valley (Monongahela Woodland
and related Fort Ancient complexes of the Allegheny Valley), the
central Piedmont (including the Siouan sites and the Albemarle sites
to the north of them in Maryland), and Secotan and related sites
of the North Carolina Tidewater. One is tempted to point out
similarities between these towns and those settlements of Amazonia
which include a men’s house. The more ancient ancestors of late
villages of our Southeast were apparently smaller complexes of small
houses, and were probably much like early village complexes of the
Southwest, especially Hohokam.
A second settlement pattern is characterized by very large houses
compacted into a settlement without separate temple or plaza. Such
a community consisted of 1 to 20 longhouses. Dwellings were as
large as 30 by 130 feet. They were occupied by large households in
which classificatory sisters were the central figures. Each house
served as a temple as well as a dwelling. The greatest concentration
of villages of this pattern was in Ontario, with smaller and fewer
communities to the south and east. The Susquehannock towns of
this type are fewer and smaller than the Five Nations settlements,
while some of the Virginia Tidewater communities seem to represent
the southern margin of this settlement type. The house life of these
communities would be much like that of the Amazonian peoples of
longhouse towns, such as the Witoto.
In the northern region of large houses for extended families, earlier
town types seem to have had fewer houses rather than smaller dwell-
ings. In fact, many earlier sites which are of the Late Woodland stage
appear to have but one or two large houses for the entire community.
In historic times, the longhouse gave way to smaller dwellings, mainly
log houses of frontier pattern. However, the large dwelling had
housed ritual functions which could not be met by a small building
or by an open square. Thus the large dwelling of prehistoric times
survived as a special temple, and continues to exist as the ritual
structure of the pagan Iroquois.
In both community patterns, women’s agricultural roles were cen-
tral, and men’s economic roles were subsidiary. Male social and
CP CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
political roles were likewise secondary. Despite male emphasis on
warfare, war lacked major economic motivation, and conquest was
an unknown objective until the appearance of firearms and the fur
trade. This village community had much in common with those of
the early village horizon in the Near Hast, but the contrasts between
the two types of Neolithic are most instructive. The American com-
munities differed in that their productive economy was botanically
centered in all of its details, with no significant domesticated animals.
There was a horticultural rather than an agricultural flavor to all of
its cultivation. Power sources other than community manpower
were unknown, and neither the domesticated animal nor the prisoner
of war was of an economic significance. The community was often
larger than a normal Early Village community of the Near East.
The American village-farming pattern of life had a long local history
rather than being a recent invention or a new introduction. Finally,
there is no obvious hint that any indigenous forces were at work
which would shift the economic control of agriculture toward male
dominance. Nor were there any discernible trends in social organ-
ization which would alter the remarkable matriarchal cast of these
societies, as compared with the conjectured revolution in society
that came with the tremendous upsurge of warfare and of animal
husbandry in the Neolithic of the Near Hast. I believe that all of
these traits were tightly interrelated and interdependent in a formally
functional sense.
While these native cultures were alien indeed to the cultures of the
European colonists, they were also very different from what we see
today at Cherokee or in other Eastern Woodlands communities.
The ancient communities show many segments of culture-content
that we could scarcely reconstruct from the ethnology but which
are implicit in the archeology. In this sense, the archeology can
take us several steps beyond what ethnology could do, as in L. H.
Morgan’s “Houses and House-life of the American Aborigines’”’
(Morgan, 1881). At the same time, much in the culture-content and
behavior of Cherokee, Creek, or Iroquois today has its roots in the
life of this ancient village-community. The deeper our field studies,
the larger proportion of this ancient culture becomes apparent.
However, in the ethnological field studies I do not believe that we
are approximating any study of this ancient community, nor are we
dealing with the residues of some mixture of this aboriginal culture
with a EKuropean complex. There are two major phenomena that I
believe we are coming into some contact with, and that we actually
are studying. The first is the recent existence and recent truncation
of very specific, highly eclectic and functionally structured cultures
which American Indian communities had constructed out of cultural
No. 9] TYPOLOGY AND ACCULTURATION—WITTHOFT 73
material of both aboriginal and European origin. The second is the
destruction of these American culture complexes by interaction with
a modern cosmopolitan culture. They are destroyed not by inter-
action of traits and ideas, but by economic and social determinism, by
processes of economic competition, and by social ranking.
These intermediary cultures, built from an exotic heritage, are of
primary interest to the ethnologist. Although they had tremendous
diversity, I have tried to order them by types in terms of what I think
are their major characteristics. ‘These characteristics shall be noted
briefly, although all variants need much analysis and comparison.
The first type is what I refer to as a domiciliated community. It
carries a mission culture. The people have been settled together
by external authority and are governed by external authority. Their
communities are small and the economic practice is largely borrowed
from Europe, especially in agriculture. Native language persisted
but developed literary models and it was subjected to conscious
selection of vocabulary. Kinship and social organization correspond
closely to European models with native terminology highly and con-
sciously modified to satisfy a descriptive kinship system. Such
cultures are apparent among the Mohawk, Abenaki, Penobscot,
19th-century Catawba, 18th-century Delaware, and a number of other
extinct communities. They show many interesting culture-history
strands: less rapid decay of minor technologies, more rapid loss of
important economic practices, and most rapid loss of native religious
and ideological systems; the survival of a great body of vestiges of
older Indian and European supernaturalism as superstition alongside
of an introduced official religion; the substitution of Kuropean medi-
cine and book herbalism for native herbalism rather than the adoption
of a genuine European folk-medicine or any but fragmentary survival
of native medicine; the survival of native language as a household
language with extensive translations of Huropean terms into the
native tongue; long survival of native kinship terms completely revised
to fit European incest regulations and European kin charts; wide-
spread adoption of the most conservative European crafts in all their
details, such as basket and broom making. Such cultures have
generally been short lived and soon absorbed into the general popula-
tion, but a few have histories as long as any of our settlements.
Today, however, we are generally dealing with their vestiges in the
communities of the Eastern Woodlands. ‘These cultures represent
the most intensive and selective effect of a dominant culture upon a
subjugated one, which generally produces as its end result a minor
variant of a local white culture pattern.
These should not be confused with the cultures of remnant groups,
often improperly called submerged groups. ‘The remnant group
74. CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM _‘[B.A.E. Bull. 180
represents the unorganized but intense effect of a dominant and large
European population upon a small relic of Indian population left
behind the frontiers. These cultures have suffered rapid truncation
of all details of native culture, but in a somewhat selective fashion.
The result is a blend which is almost entirely of European aspect but
carries scattered minor elements of aboriginal origin. As compared
with neighboring white communities, these communities carry an
old-fashioned rural white culture, they have a few Indian traits, and
they represent a depressed social status. Remnant groups are most
important because there have been so many of them in our past.
Much in the way of Indian genes has entered the American population
through their disappearance, without a comparable cultural
continuum.
Much in our larger Indian communities today reminds us of these
smaller communities and their cultural processes, but should not be
confused with them. The resemblances are largely because all
culture forms of the past are being rapidly and drastically modified
by the same powerful forces. The Cherokee, the Seneca, the Sioux,
the Navaho, and many other peoples who today are our primary
resources for ethnological field study have totally different histories.
This is due in part to the size of their communities, and in part to the
survival of internal authority. These cultures are referred to as
reservation cultures. 'They are exceedingly diverse and have differed
greatly in themselves from generation to generation, but they repre-
sent great and creative realms of culture interaction, acculturation,
and invention. Reservation cultures shall continue for some time to
be the great fields of American local ethnology. The communities
represent important national resources in population, genetic stock,
vigor, individualism, and philosophy, if only the peoples can find
their places in American life without the vast losses in personality and
spirit that they are suffering today.
Reservation cultures were not the result of perpetuating native
cultures into recent times, or of the dilution of these with European
culture traits. Neither were they the result of blending European
and aboriginal culture traits into a mixed pattern better fitted to new
conditions, or of a replacement of native forms by European practice.
Rather, reservation cultures appear to have been the result of a quite
unconscious but highly selective process of adoption, interaction, and
invention of culture traits. The result is a live, adaptive, and highly
integrated system of behavior, belief, and technique well fitted to life
in a specific environment and age. The growth, function, and decay
of a reservation culture is the most significant phase of the life history
of a reservation community, and it can be studied in many different
aspects or strands.
No. 9] TYPOLOGY AND ACCULTURATION—WITTHOFT 75
The major traits of reservation cultures are as follows: Autonomous
political and social authority which more or less effectively resists
external coercion; large community size; more intensive contacts
between community members than with other individuals for prac-
tically the whole community; persistance of native religion and ideol-
ogy with some modification in the fields of ethics and philosophy
preceding any modification of formal theology; native religion domi-
nant in inner political and social affairs of the community; survival
of native technology with very little general resistance to influence
by European technology and with often rapid and wholesale adoption
of selected technological details and complexes from outside; survival
of native language as a first language, with abundant invention of
new names for alien objects, ideas, and concepts; most drastic and
rapid acculturation in the field of material culture; survival of native
herbalism, medicine, and midwifery as integrated systems with
survival of their philosophic correlatives, and with many minor bor-
rowings from both folk medicine and formal medicine; prolonged
nursing of infants and permissive treatment of children; survival of
native kinship and social systems which undergo change due to new
situations but which are not revised into any consistency with
European models, either in behavior or in terminology; survival of
native marriage systems and incest regulations in behavior as long
as native kinship terminology survives; survival of native agricultural
practice and supernaturalism with accommodations for many intro-
duced species and techniques; survival of a native botany and an
accompanying economic plant lore, accommodating many introduced
plants with new native names; distinct culinary practice with many
major traits not found except within a single community.
Each of these traits can be explored in detail, but each represents
a series of structures that was adaptive, effective, and interrelated
to the rest of the culture in an earlier setting. In many ways these
features resemble the major characteristics of the cultures of national
groups which preserve their identity among us, except that the content
is much more alien than that of any national group culture.
Perhaps the most important phase of reservation cultures is what
is happening to them today. The problems which Indians face
today are the same ones all of us face—problems of community
survival and progress, problems of preserving some personal integrity
despite rapid culture change, problems of ego-survival in the face of
powerful threats to personality. Reservation cultures are making so
much greater a transition in entering the modern world and in coming
to share in a modern cosmopolitan culture, that the threat is indeed
overwhelming. Culture change is mainly generationwise, with
marked differences between parent and child. We do not have
536135—61——6
76 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
enough adaptability to permit any great modifications within the ex-
perience of an individual’s life.
I do not know what the community of the future will be, except
that some day it will vanish into the general population. The
immediate future holds little promise, for we see too little progress
in community betterment, too much discontent, too poor a public-
health picture, too little economic betterment, growing social frag-
mentation, culture loss rather than replacement, and increasing
production of aberrant personalities. ‘These can be deadly threats to
any community anywhere, but they are cast in especially severe
forms for the reservation community. As elsewhere, economic
problems may be pressing, but the deadly threats lie in realms of
culture and society. At the present time, reservation communities
and cultures are in the position of national groups. In the future,
they will follow the historical paths seen in the past of remnant
eroups. ‘Through obvious social and economic process, the reserva-
tion communities will be absorbed into the lowest economic and social
caste of each region. We see little chance for the conservation of
tradition, values, intellectual resources, or genetic assets in the process
of merging with a cosmopolitan culture.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Moraan, Lewis H.
1881. Houses and house-life of the American aborigines. U.S. Geogr. and
Geol. Surv. Contr. to N. Amer. Ethnol., vol. 4. Washington.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 10. Comment on John Witthoft’s ‘““Eastern Woodlands
Community Typology and Acculturation”
By JOHN M. GOGGIN
(7
te :
SPP Ba SRE PEPE AL SD
Tones at ‘ i
; Reiss
ay
COMMENT ON JOHN WITTHOFT’S “EASTERN
WOODLANDS COMMUNITY TYPOLOGY AND
ACCULTURATION”
By Joun M. Goaein
University of Florida
This paper opens up an interesting topic for consideration which
should prove to be very fruitful to future students of North American
Indian acculturation and pan-Indianism. However, it may be that
Witthoft’s thorough knowledge of the North Carolina Cherokee has
unfortunately been a trap which has led him to overgeneralize for the
Eastern Woodlands as a whole and the Southeast in particular.
Two such points can be discussed, the ‘Primitive Village Commu-
nity’ and the concept of “‘Reservation Culture.” For the Southeast
the Primitive Village Community is presented as a compact com-
munity centered around a central plaza or square on or near which
were one or more ceremonial or other specialized structures, including
the ‘men’s house.”” These latter are said to be “best represented by
the earth lodge or hothouse of the Creeks and Cherokee.”’ In fact,
though, the only good evidence for men’s houses is from these tribes.
Perhaps the most deceiving thing about central areas in South-
eastern villages is a widespread similarity in form with considerable
differences in function. Among some people, such as the Acolapissa,
Tocobaga, and Powhatan, ‘‘temples’”’ were storage houses for cleaned
bones or bodies of the dead; while among the Calusa and Natchez, for
example, they were repositories of ritual material. The density of
population around the central plaza is also highly variable from the
Mississippi to the Atlantic.
Another factor to be remembered in discussing the people who make
up a household in the Southeast is the significant variation in kin
groups in the area. Most people think clan groups are typical, as
among the Creeks. However, the numerically important Choctaw
and Chickasaw apparently lacked them.
In trying to discuss Witthoft’s “Reservation Culture” I am some-
what uncertain where to begin. What is meant by a reservation?
Is it the North Carolina Cherokee or their Oklahoma counterparts?
I assume it is the former, with which the author is most familiar.
79
80 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
My question is, what sort of data was he dealing with when he con-
sidered the North Carolina Cherokee as the basis on which to develop
his theory? Are these typical “reservation Indians” or do such people
exist? Why are the reservation Indians or remnants of Cherokee,
Choctaw, and Seminole remaining east of the Mississippi the major
sources of ethnographic data for these tribes rather than their more
numerous tribesmen in Oklahoma?
Unfortunately the real gap in this symposium, and an extremely
serious one since we are anthropologists, is that no one has presented
a picture of Cherokee culture history. Such data would be illumi-
nating and would explain to some degree my above questions.
Starting from a relatively unacculturated aboriginal culture about
1700, the Cherokee quickly adopted much European material culture
and gradually social and political ideas as well, developing what Fred
Gearing has called a “state.” In addition, leaders emerged, who, by
early in the 19th century, were emulating the White leaders of the
South—the planters, not the traders. They concentrated in areas of
plantation ecology, the river valleys, not the mountains.
When White pressure was brought to bear on the Cherokee to
remove them westward, these leaders fought against it but finally,
when all efforts were fruitless, it was again these leaders who were
foremost on the Trail of Tears.
The present North Carolina Cherokee represent, then, remnants
who hid out at the time of forced migration, remaining behind.
Essentially they appear to have been the “‘hillbillies’—that is,
Cherokee who were the farthest from White areas and probably those
least happy with and least acculturated to Kuropean culture.
Remarkable similarities and parallels can be seen between these
Cherokee and the Choctaw of Mississippi and the Seminole of Florida
who also remained behind. Among both of these peoples it was the
major leaders who went west with their followers and the lesser who
remained.
In the case of the Seminole and Choctaw, with whom I am most
familiar, we can see the result in the immediate disintegration of
native political systems in the East although they carried on in
Oklahoma for a considerable period.
I believe we should see Southeastern Indian cultures, and for that
matter all culture, as composed of integrated cultural complexes
rather than integrated cultural traits. Under the impact of another
culture the cohesion between these complexes is first shattered; later
the traits within them are separated. ‘Reservation culture’ should
be examined in this light.
In the Southeastern Indian communities social and political stratifi-
cation existed from a substantial to a very marked degree and in
No. 10] COMMENT—GOGGIN 81
contact with a new stratified society (Huropean) what existed seems
to have been strengthened in many cases. When the cultures of the
Southeast were hit by the impact of forced migration this resulted in
the whole series of traits involved in the leadership complex moving
west as a body with the people who moved, leaving virtually none
behind.
The concept of “reservation” culture offers promise of being a useful
tool but it must be refined to recognize a variety of “reservation”
situations.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 11. Cherokee Economic Cooperatives: The Gadugi
By RAYMOND D. FOGELSON and PAUL KUTSCHE
83
Hees
GUN
Linens
CONTENTS
Era UT RCOS NTO TaUE a 2 oes a ete pa RE Yon ry ey sis ares SU TENSE YTS sea
USth=centinmya Cherokee owas yess ee yn ee
INOS CHOCO OF ACCUM HOI, IGOR A ee Se ee
The Gadugi in Eastern Cherokee community organization, 1838-1959____
Comparative evidence
Bibliography
Appendix 1
Appendix 2
nwa
ATTAWIEN Mca cokes
CHEROKEE ECONOMIC COOPERATIVES: THE
GADUGI!
By Raymonp D. Fogertson, University of Pennsylvania, and
Pau Kutscue, The Colorado College
INTRODUCTION
The Gadugi is an economic institution of considerable age that still
persists in Big Cove, one of the more culturally conservative com-
munities of the Kastern Cherokee. For present purposes, the Gadugi
may be defined as a group of men who join together to form a company,
with rules and officers, for continued economic and social reciprocity.
Although James Mooney, the first full-fledged field ethnographer
among the Cherokee, omits mention of the Gadugi as an important
economic institution, other anthropologists (Starr, 1898; Bloom, MS.;
Gilbert, 1943; Speck and Schaeffer, 1945; Witthoft, 1947; and Gulick,
1958) have noted the existence of the Gadugi and devoted various
amounts of discussion to it.
Gilbert (1943, p. 306) and others have characterized the Gadugi
as a surviving remnant of the aboriginal Cherokee town organization.
Gilbert utilized material on Cherokee town organization contained
in the Payne-Buttrick manuscripts to support this contention. This
material was collected in the decades prior to the Removal in 1838
but; for the most part, represents an earlier phase of Cherokee
culture as remembered by a few older informants. Speck and
Schaeffer learned from the late Will West Long, a noted Cherokee
informant, that the office of town chief or “light”? chief survived in
Big Cove until about 1875 (Speck and Schaeffer, 1945, p. 178).
There is also some linguistic evidence for the connection between
1 This paper was presented in condensed form at the 58th annual meeting of the American Anthropo-
logical Association in Mexico City, 1959. The authors do not regard the present version as final. Many
questions await further elucidation through additional field observation, and some important bibliographic
sources have not yet been consulted (the Payne-Buttrick manuscripts on deposit at the Newberry Library
in Chicago, 3. Haywood’s “Natural and Aboriginal History of Tennessee,’’ and some of the papers of Ben-
jamin Hawkins). We wish to thank the Cross-Cultural Laboratory of the Institute for Research in Social
Science of the University of North Carolina, John Gulick, director, under whose auspices our fieldwork was
carried out; and the Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania, for financial assistance.
We should also like to acknowledge the advice and criticism offered us by Mr. John Atkins, Dr. Robbins
Burling, Mrs. Josephine Dixon, Dr. William N. Fenton, Dr. A. I. Hallowell, Mr. Charles H. Holzinger,
Mr. John G. Sawyer, Miss Marianne L. Stoller, Mr. Robert K. Thomas, Dr. Anthony F. C. Wallace, and
Mr. John Witthoft. A special note of acknowledgment must go to our chief informant, Mr. Lloyd
Runningwolf Sequoyah of Big Cove.
87
88 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
the Gadugi and the older town organization. Mooney notes in his
glossary the term “‘Gatugi,” alternately “‘sgatugi,” which he translates
as ‘town settlement.” One specific place name he lists as Gatutiyi
(located near Robbinsville, N. C.), and translates as ‘town building
place” or “settlement place’? (Mooney, 1900, p. 519). When we
checked Mooney’s lead with a Cherokee informant m 1959, the
evidence was confirmed: Gaduhii, he said, is a town, like Asheville
or Bryson City, the county seat. Skadugi means township; for
example, Big Cove.?
The purposes of the present paper are fourfold: (1) to document
further the origin of the Gadugi in the aboriginal town organization;
(2) to trace histerically the forces responsible for the dissolution of
the older town organization; (3) to present some background to and
a description of the present state of the Gadugiin Big Cove; and (4)
to append some brief comparative notes and, perhaps, leads for further
research.
18TH-CENTURY CHEROKEE TOWNS
The territory occupied by the Cherokee at the beginning of the 18th
century may be divided conveniently into four major areas, three of
which possessed distinctive, though mutually intelligible dialects
(Gilbert, 1943, pp. 178-182). The Lower Cherokee occupied com-
paratively fiat lands on the banks of the Tugaloo and Keeowee
Rivers and their branches in what is now northwestern South Carolina.
The Middle Settlement or Kituhwa district was situated in the moun-
tainous region of western North Carolina with settlements along the
Little Tennessee, Tuckaseegee, and their branches. The Overhill and
Valley Settlements shared a similar dialect and were located, respec-
tively, in eastern Tennessee and the extreme western tip of North
Carolina. These regions were not as mountainous as the Middle
Settlements and were well watered by the Little Tennessee, Hiwassee,
French Broad, and Holston Rivers, and their tributaries. These four
areas formed the settlement core of the nation, but, in addition, the
Cherokee claimed dominion over a much wider area extending into
parts of Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Alabama, and Georgia.
These wider extensions were used primarily as hunting lands and
2 Big Cove is a social and legal political entity, but its settlement pattern is similar to that of an American
rural township. There is no real central cluster of dwellings or other buildings.
Another linguistic note suggests that the word for “‘bread’””—gadu—may be related to the word for ‘‘town’’
or “company.” Gadu anigi, said one informant, means ‘‘to eat bread.’? According to the same informant
Gadugi means not only the cooperative work organization, but also, ‘‘ Where all the group meets and eats
bread together.”? A better-than-average dinner isan important part of every joint work party. Noone would
dare seek the aid of the Gadugi without serving them fried chicken and other choice food. Our informant
told us, ‘‘If a Cherokee asks, ‘When are we going to have Gadugi?’ he means, ‘When are we going to have
the bread eating and the working?’”’
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 89
served as neutral buffer areas separating the Cherokee from other
tribes.
Throughout the 18th century there was a great acceleration of
population movement among the Cherokee attributable to the advanc-
ing white frontier. In the first half of the century, the presence of the
colonists was felt indirectly through intertribal strife and boundary
rearrangements precipitated by the dislocation of tribes east of the
Cherokee. This phase was followed by direct contact with whites
eventuating in war and the destruction of numerous Cherokee villages.
Increased pressure on the frontier resulted in land cessions by the
Indians, further boundary encroachments by the white settlers, and
further Indian cessions. Warfare and disease were important demo-
graphic factors during the 18th century. Smallpox epidemics in 1734
and 1783 were reported to have killed half of the Cherokee popula-
tion.2 Costly wars severely depleted the available number of adult
males. Near the end of the 18th century, all the Cherokee settle-
ments in South Carolina were ceded, and the center of population
shifted southward, with heavy settlement in northern Georgia and
northeastern Alabama.
The physical and spiritual center of 18th-century Cherokee life
was the town. In reviewing the older sources, we have attempted
to get estimates of the number of towns and their approximate popu-
lations. While there is much discrepancy in these early population
estimates, some broad limits as to town size can be obtained. The
Cherokee were the most numerous tribe in the Southeast, and
Kroeber (1939, p. 141) gives an aboriginal population estimate of
22,000. In 1709, Governor Johnson of the Carolina Colony reported
that the “Chereky Indians” had 5,000 (fighting) men settled in 60
towns (Williams, 1937, p. 67, footnote). A population estimate in
1715 has a total of 60 towns distributed as follows (Crane, 1928, p.
131, footnote):
Arithmetic
Towns: Number Population mean
Wroper: (Overhill) eee eee eee 19 2, 760 145
Middle (Middle and Valley) - ---------- 30 6, 350 212
Owens. co etae Rh mie snare eho hae) Pee 11 2, 100 191
60 11, 210 187
These figures seem rather low, since disease and warfare had not yet
greatly affected population size. Also, the criteria used for determin-
ing what constituted a town seem to be in doubt, since 6 years later
3 Since the Cherokee were in the habit of burning houses where smallpox had struck, it is likely that many
whole villages were also deserted as a result of the disease. Other factors that swelled the mortality rate
from smallpox were the traditional treatment of “going to water” (sweat baths followed by plunges into a
nearby stream) and an outbreak of suicide that occurred when victims beheld their disease-scarred faces.
(For further detail see the eye-witness account of Adair, 1775, pp. 244-246.)
00 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
(1721), an estimate of the Overhill population revealed only 11 towns,
while the population was held relatively constant at 2,725. In the
latter estimate, the population per town ranged from 95 to 543 and
yields a mean of 248 people (Williams, 1937, pp. 85-86).
Another census in 1721 reports a total population of 10,376 dis-
tributed in 53 towns which would average out to 196 per town
(Mooney, 1900, p. 34). Swanton (1946, p. 114) cites a 1729 esti-
mate of 64 towns and a total population of 20,000 for an average of
313. In 1735 just prior to the first smallpox epidemic, Adair says,
“they had 64 towns and villages and full of women and children,”
and later, ‘they amounted to upward of six thousand fighting men”
(Adair, 1775, p. 238). On this basis Mooney (1900, p. 34) believes
that the total population was between 16,000 and 17,000; this would
result in an average town population of 258.
For the next 40 years Cherokee census data are poor. While refer-
ences to fighting strength in terms of the number of warriors appear
frequently, fighting strength is no longer a reliable index to total
population because of an imbalance in the normal age-sex ratio. In
the early 1770’s Bartram compiled a list of 43 Cherokee towns, but
gave no overall population estimates (Bartram, 1791, p. 401). A
distribution of annuities in 1799 included reference to 51 towns (Royce,
1887, p. 144, footnote). In 1808-9, a town-by-town census gave a
population of 12,395, but many Cherokee had by this time emigrated
west to the Indian Territory (Swanton, 1946, p. 114).
From these figures, it seems safe to say that the typical (18th-
century) Cherokee town numbered between 200 and 325 persons.
We realize that arithmetic means may not give a true index of central
tendency, and that many of the important and sacred mother towns
were much larger with perhaps 600 people as an upper limit; the small-
est town reported had a population of 95.
The settlement pattern was frequently determined by the contour
of the land. In many cases, houses were located at the base of hills
to take maximum advantage of tillable land and also to be near
sources of fresh water. Where arable land was abundant, houses
were sometimes clustered in the center of fields. The typical house
was square or rectangular in shape.* It was constructed of a frame-
work of upright poles, sunk in the ground, and covered by a bark,
wood, or woven siding made weathertight by earth and clay. Each
household usually included a small semisubterranean ‘‘Asi’” or sweat-
house for ritual purification, winter sleeping, and food storage. By
1775, typical frontier-type log cabins, made possible by the intro-
annelenecces had summer dwellings which were reminiscent of the Iroquois longhouse in overall
dimensions—“‘rarely exceeds sixteen feet in breadth, ... but often extends to sixty or seventy feet in
length...” (Timberlake, 1765, p. 87)—but, as Swanton notes, this was probably a single-family dwelling
unit and, unlike the Iroquois longhouse, constructed of wattle and plaster (Swanton, 1946, p. 404).
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 91
duction of European woodworking tools, had replaced the earlier
type of dwelling (Malone, 1956, p. 12).
The heart of the 18th-century Cherokee town was the centrally
located council house. The earliest council houses were large earth
lodges, circular or heptagonal in shape. They sometimes could ac-
commodate as many as 500 people and were usually situated on a
slight manmade elevation or mound, often containing the remains of
previous populations. Other features frequently associated in the
council house complex were outdoor pavilions serving as a summer
men’s house, houses for important town officials and priests, and a
cleared level field for ball play (Witthoft, this volume, p. 70). Later
council houses were constructed of logs and built above the ground.
The Cherokee had seven exogamous sibs with sib segments of each
represented in varying proportions in each town.’ Descent was
reckoned matrilineally, and the kinship type conformed to a basic
Crow system. Residence tended to be matrilocal, but residence
rules were not rigid. Polygyny was the preferred form of marriage
but had a low incidence. Sib membership was recognized in the
seating arrangement in the council house and in the composition of
certain bodies of the tribal government. ‘There is some hint that
certain sibs had special functions and prerogatives, but the evidence
is not clear. The sib was a major mechanism in social control
through the exaction of blood revenge (Gilbert, 1943, pp. 216-253).
The political structure of the 18th-century Cherokee town was
fairly elaborate and warrants some description. ‘Two complementary
political hierarchies, the Red and the White organizations, executed
political control during times of war and peace, respectively. The
White organization can be best considered a form of gerontocracy.
It was headed by a White Chief (Uku), whom early travelers and
Colonial administrators often erroneously equated with the European
notion of king. This position was said to have been nonhereditary,
but certain lineages appeared to have produced more chiefs than might
be expected on the basis of chance alone (Gilbert, 1957, pp. 552-553).
The White Chief had the power to call and preside over council
meetings and served as an overseer in important communal activities,
including agriculture. Under the Uku were a deputy chief, and a
chief speaker selected for his oratorical abilities. Two councils
wielded considerable influence in political decision making and pelicy
formation: a body of counselors representing the seven sibs and a
council of elders that included all men over 55 years of age (or whose
5 Ethnographic literature to date has consistently employed the term “clan” to denote the Cherokee unit
of descent. There is no evidence, however, that the aboriginal in-marrying male was considered to have
joined his wife’s kin group, and he certainly does not do so at present. Therefore, following Murdock’s
usage, we apply the term “‘sib’’ to the Cherokee descent group (Murdock, 1949, chs. 3, 4, p. 247).
536135—61——7
92 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
hair had turned gray). In addition, the White organization included
important religious officials, several messengers, and various minor
governmental and religious assistants (Gilbert, 1943, pp. 319-325).
The rule of the White organization can be characterized as benevo-
lent paternalism. Decisions were generally unanimous, and direct
coercion or overactive leadership were strongly devalued (Gearing,
MS., 1956). The officials tended to gain their authority through
love and respect. The power of the old men can be vividly seen in
an anecdote reported by Bartram about a Creek chief from Mucclesse:
One morning after his attendants had led him to the council fire, before seating
himself, he addressed himself to the people after this manner—
“You yet love me; what can I do now to merit your regard? nothing; I am good
for nothing; I cannot see to shoot the buck or hunt up the sturdy bear; I know I
am but a burthen to you; I have lived long enough; now let my spirit go; I want
to see the warriors of my youth in the country of spirits: (bareing his breast) here
is the hatchet, take it and strike.’”’” They answered with one united voice, ‘‘We
will not; we cannot; we want you here.” [Bartram, 1791, p. 392.]
The Red or War organization assumed leadership of the town in
times of military emergency. It also administered offensive war
outside the town and served as a liaison in relations between the
town and foreign powers.® This organization was headed by the
“Raven” or great Red War Chief. This was an elected office that
was earned by notable exploits as a warrior. The ‘‘Raven” was
considerably younger than the White Chief, and he took an active
part in war parties, traditionally being the first to engage in combat
with the enemy and never retreating except when his men carried
him away from the fray by force. ‘Thus, in addition to being chief
strategist and decision maker in war, he was also an inspirational
leader and rallying point in the heat of battle. There is also some
evidence that he took a paternalistic attitude toward the safety of
his men and was morally charged with the responsibility of not ex-
posing them to unnecessary danger. Like the White Chief, the
Raven had an assistant or deputy chief. There were also seven
counselors of war representing the seven sibs.
Exceptional women also had a role in the War organization.
These women, variously called ‘Pretty Women,” ‘‘War Women,” or
“Beloved Women,” usually attained their rank by past heroic actions.
They had a voice in council and decided the fate of prisoners. Other
war Officials included a speaker, a standard bearer, a surgeon with
6 It is our impression from reviewing early sources that the war chiefs were also the major trade contacts.
Names of war chiefs frequently turn up leading trading expeditions to Charlestown, and they often entered
into ceremonial ‘‘brotherships’”? with white traders (see Rothrock, 1929). During times of peace the war
chief was probably seen as a dangerous man to have permanently residing in the village, so the society seems
to have developed a pattern of keeping him away from the village as much as possible when the threat of
war was absent.
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 93
three assistants, and war priests whose influence was such that they
could recall war parties from the field when omens were unfavorable.
Also within the warrior class, there was a system of grading. Three
special scouts, the “Wolf,” “Owl,” and ‘Fox,’ scouted to the right,
left, and rear, respectively. Warriors who had killed an enemy were
given a special title. Boys under 25 were not admitted to warrior
status.’ |
The articulation between the Red and the White organizations was
marked by ritual. Before leaving for the field, warriors fasted,
observed sex taboos, and participated in an all-night dance to get
them into a “‘war-like disposition.” On their return to the village,
they had to undergo many days of ceremonial purification before they
were able to resume peaceful civil life (Gearing, MS., 1956, p. 70).8
This dual organization would not, technically, be classified as a
political moiety system by Murdock (1956). While the local town
Red-White dichotomy was replicated on a national level, unlike the
Creeks, the Cherokee did not divide the towns of their nation into
Red and White towns.®
The seasonal cycle gave a clear-cut rhythm to the 18th-century
Cherokee village structure. Small hunting parties went out from late
October to early spring, and shorter hunts took place during the
summer months (Gearing, 1958, p. 1150). War parties generally left
the village during the late fall and winter. The yearly calendar was
regularly punctuated by religious ceremonies, the most important of
which were the second Green Corn Feast in mid-September and the
New Fire or New Year ceremonies which took place near the end of
October. The major religious ceremonies can be viewed as rites of
intensification in which old grudges were forgiven, debts canceled,
offenders pardoned, and unity of the town revitalized (Bartram,
1791, p. 399).
The Cherokee subsistence pattern was one of mixed hunting,
fishing, gathering, and agriculture. Larger game included the buf-
falo, deer, bear, beaver, opossum, wild turkey, and ‘‘pheasant’’
(ruffed grouse. See Bent, 1932, p. 310). These were hunted with
the bow and later with guns, first introduced about 1700. Deer
pelts became an increasingly valuable item in trade with the Eng-
lish Colonies. With the development of a regulated fur trade,
? Most of this material dealing with the dual political system of the Cherokee has been drawn from Gearing
(MB., 1956; 1958) whom the interested reader should consult for further detail.
8 It is interesting to note that one of the Cherokee names for the ball game is translated as ‘little war,’
and many elements of war ritual can still be seen in ball game ceremonialism. The senior author hopes to
make the ball game the subject of a later paper.
9Some Cherokee towns were labeled White towns and considered towns of refuge, a fact seized upon by
early writers attempting to make the Hebrew equation. However, we have encountered no evidence for the
existence of contrasting Red towns. Thus there is no precise parallel to the elaborate Creek political
moieties described by Swanton (1928 a) and Haas (1940).
O4. CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
about 1720, the Indian hunter became more and more dependent on
European manufactures. In the second half of the 18th century,
the fur trade diminished in intensity owing to reduced game resources
and the loss of hunting territories. Large-game hunting was an
exclusive male activity. Hunting parties consisted of only a few
individuals who allied themselves more for companionship and pro-
tection than for any necessary coordination in seeking out and killing
their prey.
Smaller game, such as rabbits, squirrels, small rodents, and birds,
were hunted with the blowgun or caught in various traps and snares.
Hunting with the blowgun tended, in the late 18th century, to be a
sport and children’s amusement (Timberlake, 1765, pp. 44-45). It is
probable that women assisted in animal drives that were associated
with the annual burning of the brush in the local village.
Fish were an important part of the Cherokee diet. Fish were
caught in weirs, by hook and line, by drives into shallow areas, by
spears, and by fish poisons. Timberlake (1765, p. 69) says that nets
were not aboriginal, but Swanton (1946, p. 336) feels that this is
‘“neredible.”’
Animal domestication seems to have been limited to dogs in
aboriginal times. The horse was introduced about 1740 and rapidly
became widespread. In times of dire need, horses were killed for
food. The pig was received enthusiastically and flourished on a diet
of mountain greens and chestnuts. For a long time, the Cherokee
rejected cattle, probably because of the large expenditure of effort in
maintaining them (Timberlake, 1765, p. 72). Nevertheless, some of
the more acculturated Cherokee began to engage in limited stock-
raising near the end of the century.
Gathering was an important part of the native economy. Respon-
sibility for gathering was invested mainly in the women, with some
assistance from children. Important gathered foodstuffs included
wild fruits, berries, and nuts.
The central pillar of Cherokee domestic economy was agriculture.
Land was cleared by slash-and-burn techniques—girdling the bark
and subsequent burning—an early description of which is given by
Adair (1775, p. 435). The fertility of the Overhill Cherokee land was
noted in glowing terms by the military architect, De Brahm, who in
1756 called the area, “the American Canaan,’ with soil ‘equal to
manure itself, impossible in appearance ever to wear out...”
(Williams, 1928, p. 193).
Adair alludes to a dual system of private household gardens and
larger community fields. The private gardens were located close to
the dwelling houses and were fenced to keep off the horses. On these
small plots were grown various beans, peas, and ‘‘the smaller sort of
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 95
Indian corn which usually ripens in two months’ (Adair, 1930, pp.
435-436). These private household gardens were in contrast to the
larger “out fields,” which were not fenced and were worked
communally. In Adair’s words:
The chief part of the Indians begin to plant their out-fields, when the wild
fruit is so ripe, as to draw off the birds from picking up the grain. This is
their general rule, which is in the beginning of May, about the time the traders
set off for the English settlements. Among several nations of Indians, each town
usually works together. Previous thereto, an old beloved man warns the inhab-
itants to be ready to plant on a prefixed day. At the dawn of it, one by order
goes aloft, and whoops to them with shrill calls, “that the new year is far ad-
vanced,—that he who expects to eat must work,—and that he who will not work,
must expect to pay the fine according to old custom, or leave the town, as they will
not sweat themselves for an healthy idle waster.”’ At such times, may be seen
many war-chieftains working in common with the people. . . . About an hour
after sun-rise, they enter the field agreed on by lot, and fall to work with great
cheerfulness; sometimes one of their orators cheers them with jests and humorous
old tales, and sings several of their most agreeable wild tunes, beating also with a
stick in his right hand, on the top of an earthern pot covered with a wet and well-
stretched deerskin: thus they proceed from field to field, till their seed is sown.
[Adair, 1775, pp. 436-437.]
As to the details of planting, Adair reports,
They plant their corn in straight rows, putting five or six grains into one hole,
about two inches distant—They cover them with clay in the form of a small hill.
Each row is a yard asunder, and in the vacant ground they plant pumpkins,
water-melons, marsh-mallows, sun-flowers, and sundry sorts of beans and peas, the
last two of which yield a large increase. [Ibid., p. 439.]
The women seem to have had some special agricultural duties, for
Adair also says that, ‘The women plant also pompions, and different
sorts of melons, in separate fields, at a considerable distance from
the town” (ibid., p. 438).
Bartram, who visited the Southern Indians in the 1770’s, maintains
that the reputed communism of the Indians has been “too vague and
general.” His description of Indian agriculture stresses communal
work activity as superimposed over a system of individual ownership
or land rights. Bartram’s detailed observations follow:
An Indian town is generally so situated, as to be convenient for procuring
game, secure from sudden invasion, having a large district of excellent arable
land adjoining, or in its vicinity, if possible on an isthmus betwixt two waters,
or where the doubling of a river forms a peninsula. Such a situation generally
comprises a sufficient body of excellent land for planting Corn, Potatoes, Beans,
Squash, Pumpkins, Citruls, Melons, &c., and is taken in with a small expence and
trouble of fencing, to secure the crops from the invasion of predatory animals.
At other times however they choose such a convenient fertile spot at some
distance from their town, when circumstances will not admit of having both
together.
This is their common plantation, and the whole town plant in one vast field
together; but yet the part or share of every individual family or habitation, 1s
96 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
separated from the next adjoining, by a narrow strip, or verge of grass, or any
other natural or artificial boundary.
In the spring, the ground being already prepared on one and the same day,
early in the morning, the whole town is summoned, by the sound of a conch
shell, from the mouth of the overseer, to meet at the public square, whither the
people repair with their hoes and axes; and from thence proceed to their planta-
tion, where they begin to plant, not every one in his own little district, assigned
and laid out, but the whole community united begins on one certain part of the
field, where they plant on until finished; and when their rising crops are ready
for dressing and cleansing they proceed after the same order, and so on day after
day, until the crop is laid by for ripening. After the feast of the busk is over,
and all the grain is ripe, the whole town again assemble, and every man carries
off the fruits of his labour, from the part first allotted to him, which he deposits
in his own granary; which is individually hisown. But previous to their carrying
off their crops from the field, there is a large crib or granary, erected in the plan-
tation, which is called the king’s crib; and to this each family carries and deposits
a certain quantity, according to his ability or inclination, or none at all if he so
chooses: this in appearance seems a tribute or revenue to the mico; but in fact
is designed for another purpose, i.e. that of a public treasury, supplied by a few
and voluntary contributions, and to which every citizen has the right of free and
equal access, when his own private stores are consumed; to serve as a surplus to
fly to for succour; to assist neighbouring towns, whose crops may have failed;
accommodate strangers, or travellers; afford provisions or supplies, when they
go forth on hostile expeditions; and for all other exigencies of the state: and this
treasure is at the disposal of the king or mico; which is surely a royal attribute,
to have an exclusive right and ability in a community to distribute comfort and
blessings to the necessitous. [Bartram, 1791, pp. 400—401.]
Bartram’s and Adair’s observations were given corroboration by
Brother Martin Schneider, a Moravian missionary who journeyed
into the Cherokee area in 1783-84. He writes:
In the Midst of every Town is, as it were, a round Tower of Earth about 20 Feet
high almost like a Heap where Coals are burnt, on which is a little House, but
which have been mostly burnt down in the last War. Here the first Chief climbs
up every Morning at the Time of the Work in the Field, & calls the People with a
loud voice together; these must come with their Indian-Corn Hoes, & go together
in proper Order to Work. And tho’ every Family has its own Field, yet they
begin fellowshiply on one End, & continue so one after the other till they have
finished all. As every one must come & hoe (he may have planted or not) it
seems they prevent thereby that not easily a Family can come to Want by Care-
lessness. They dare not go from their Work till in the Evening, but the Women
must bring them their Victuals into the Field. [Williams, 1928, p. 261.]
This same communal organization of men which tilled the fields,
also rapidly erected both private and public buildings in the town,
and the men of one town or neighborhood frequently helped those oi
the next (Adair, 1775, p. 444).
From the above-cited eyewitness accounts of 18th-century Cherokee
agriculture, we may conclude that men played a more active role
than has generally been assumed. It is fairly certain that men en-
gaged in the heavier labor of clearing the land, planting, and reaping
No. 11) THE GADUGI—IFOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 97
the harvest. In times of war, this arrangement was probably upset,
but it is interesting to note that whenever they had any choice, as
when Colonial authorities sought their aid in fighting French Indians,
the Cherokee usually delayed going on the warpath until the late fall.
Summer hunting parties seem to have departed after the corn was
in the ground and returned before harvest time. Thus it appears
that sufficient male labor was available during the most arduous
phases of agriculture. We can assume that weeding and other
lighter maintenance tasks in the communal fields were performed by
women, older children, older men, and a few of the younger men who
had chosen to stay home.”
In this organization of agricultural activity, we can also see elements
that persist today in the Gadugi. ‘These elements include overseers,
warners and advance notification of work days, women as cooks, a
communal treasury, aid to the poor, aged, and misfortunate, and the
working of each other’s fields in concert.
Looked at from a broader context, the 18th-century Cherokee town
can be seen as a predominantly autonomous self-sufficient unit with
a highly developed sense of identity. This sense of identity can be
inferred from an account ‘by Col. George Chicken who visited the
Cherokee country in 1725. He describes the town of Tellico as—
. . . very Compact and thick Settled .... Here are two town Housses in this
Town by reason they are the people of Two towns settled together . . . both
Enforted and their houses which they live in all Muskett proof. _[Williams, 1928,
pp. 98-99.]
This separate identity continued to be recognized, for in 1741, Antoine
Bonnefoy, a French captive, reports being taken to an Overhill
settlement called ‘‘Chateauké and Talekoa [Tellico], which are two
different councils, though the cabins are mingled together indis-
tinguishably” (ibid., 1928, pp. 152-153). Town identity was fostered
by intertown rivalry, as in the ball game, a symbolic substitute for
war. The separateness of the town is also underscored by the fact
that, as Bartram noted, each town celebrated the busk or second
Green Corn Ceremony individually, when its own harvest was ready
(Bartram, 1791, p. 399).
Although the officers of the local Red and White organizations were
reduplicated on a national level, the power of the Great White Chief
and chief warrior of the nation was nominal throughout all but the
last phases of the 18th century. This lack of adequate centralized
10 We have tried to establish a case for male participation in agriculture for the Cherokee. However,
our present sources are not sufficient to determine whether the male assisted his mother and the sibmates
of his matrilineal kin group in agricultural pursuits, or whether he worked in the context of his family of
procreation with his wife’s group. Witthoft (personal communication), on the basis of sources not yet
consulted by the authors, feels that males participated in farming as members of their mothers’ households.
98 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
authority was a continued source of vexation to early Colonial ad-
ministrations who desired to treat with the Cherokee but were frus-
trated in securing agreements that would be binding to the whole
nation. In ‘the latter portion of the century, the Cherokee achieved
increased political unification in response to the advancing white
frontier. A national spirit began to emerge that gradually stripped
the local town of much of its previous autonomy and independence.
THE EFFECTS OF ACCULTURATION, 1790-1838
The rhythm of Cherokee economic life was shattered after the
American Revolution, which unleashed a fiood of emigration toward
the Cherokee borders. Cherokee strength was so sapped by constant
bloodshed and the razing of their villages, that the main body of the
nation sued for peace in 1782. A group of dissident Cherokee war-
riors, led by Dragging Canoe, refused to bury the red-stained toma-
hawk and removed themselves to the Chicamauga district, near
presentday Chattanooga, where they were decisively defeated in
1792. This separate settlement of the Red organization can be
viewed as the death blow of the older tribal political structure.
After the war, the Cherokee embarked on a path of conscious
acculturation. Agriculture was given added importance in the new
scheme of things, since the former patterns of warfare and hunting
were now effectively blocked through careful maintenance of peace,
the ceding of hunting territories, and the thinning out of game.
President Washington obligingly wrote into the Treaty of 1791
stipulations for agricultural implements and instruction. It was
hoped that if the Cherokee became a nation of farmers, they would
require less land and be more amenable to further land cessions to
appease the growing demands of Georgia and other States. A minor-
ity of Cherokee did not want to give up the hunting life, and the Fed-
eral Government encouraged them to emigrate to the West, where
they might continue to follow the older way of life with no interference.
Small bands began to set out for the West about 1785, and in 1835, the
“Cherokee West”? numbered several thousand.
By about 1815, there were privately owned Cherokee farmsteads
in north Georgia and other fertile bottom lands in the nation which
rivaied any white American plantations of the area in appointments
and number of Negro slaves. Commercial cropping began to replace
the subsistence agriculture-plus-hunting-and-gathering of the earlier
decades. Contemporary reports citing figures on livestock and
produce attest to the sudden new prosperity. The owners of these
plantations were wea!thy mixbloods, the progeny of previous traders
and coureurs de bois. This new landed gentry, many of whom were
No. 11} THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE G9
educated in American schools, began to assume the role of a nascent
aristocracy and rapidly gained ascendancy in Cherokee political
affairs. Aboriginal patterns of kinship and religion were breaking
down under the onslaught of missionaries who were successful in
converting the nation to Christianity and bringing schools to the
Cherokee.
However, most of these developments were taking place in the
southern portion of the nation where rich bottom land abounded and
communication with white population centers and markets was
easy. The less richly endowed and less accessible Middle Settle-
ments contained a greater percentage of fullbloods who tended
to remain culturally conservative and marginal to the efflorescence
occurring farther south. These people couid not afford large numbers
of slaves, and their mountain ecology would not permit a plantation
system. Small-scale subsistence farming and hunting, where possible,
continued to prevail.
Change in Cherokee political structure took place rapidly. A
traditional type of White Chief together with a body of representative
elders ruled the nation until 1820; soon thereafter, the mixbloods rose
to political power and the nation was remodeled into a republic along
the lines of the United States Government. A constitution ratified
in 1827 provided for an elected chief and vice chief to serve as law-
enforcement officers. The nation was divided into eight election
districts. With these sweeping changes, the days of local town auton-
omy were officially over. Only as a unified national state could the
Cherokee engage in their gallant, but futile, struggle to retain an-
cestral rights to their lands in the face of ever-increasing pressure for
their removal by the young, bicep-flexing United States, bent on
fulfilling its ‘“manifest destiny.”
Despite the modifications in the formal Cherokee political structure,
some echo of the older form of town organization seemed to persist in
some areas. As Malone notes,
Aithough the villages were shown as individual spots on various maps, many
were actually areas of some distance in length, containing scattered houses and
farms. One of the most lasting institutions of Cherokee local government was
the office of Town Chief, whose authority extended well into the period of the
republic. Judging by appearance in Cherokee geography of such names as
Going Snake’s Town, Thomas Foreman’s Town, and Vann’s Old Town, the Town
Chief must indeed have controlled not merely a cluster of houses, but an area
more nearly like a township or a city-state. [Malone, 1956, p. 119.]
We lack documentary evidence pertaining to the degree that com-
munal agriculture was practiced, but it seems reasonabie to assume
that the older agricultural forms persisted in the less acculturated
regions.
100 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
The period of American-style agricultural prosperity, a golden few
years which is unique among American Indians, exploded in catas-
trophe in 1835 when the fraudulent Treaty of New Hchota was
ratified by Congress, and 3 years later the Cherokee were forcibly
removed to the Indian Territory west of the Mississippi. One side-
light of the Removal suggests the endurance of the older town organ-
ization. The United States troops experienced initial difficulty in
organizing groups for Removal. After the first emigrants had de-
parted, Chief John Ross succeeded in winning a temporary post-
ponement to avoid traveling in the sickly summer season. It was
agreed that the remaining Cherokee would remove themselves in
their own fashion. The subsequent emigration seems to have been
organized along town lines, led by the local chief (personal conversation
with Robert K. Thomas)."
THE GADUGI IN EASTERN CHEROKEE COMMUNITY
ORGANIZATION, 1838-1959
Several hundred Cherokee escaped Removal by hiding in the
wilderness of the Great Smoky Mountains. Realizing the impossibil-
ity of tracking down these people, Gen. Winfield Scott, charged with
the responsibility of carrying out the terms of the Removal, struck a
face-saving compromise. If the Indians would surrender Tsali and
his brothers, who were involved in the killing of some soldiers, Scott
agreed to let the others remain. This was done and Tsali and his
brothers were duly executed.”
The survivors of the Removal still faced the problem of being
landless aliens in their own country. This problem was soon solved
by Will Thomas, an enterprising white trader and lifelong friend of
the Cherokee. With money donated by the estranged Indians
supplemented by his own personal funds, Thomas purchased most
of the tract that presently constitutes the Qualla Reservation.
This land is located in Swain and Jackson Counties, one of the most
rugged portions of western North Carolina. Although well watered
by the Oconaluftee, a rapid mountain stream, and its various branches,
good bottom land is not plentiful. At the time of purchase, the area
was rich in natural timber resources and wild game. Where bottom
land is not available, hillside slopes are cultivated, and 45-degree
cornfields are not uncommon. During the 19th century, the reserva-
Tt would be a worthwhile investigation to follow the fate of the local town organization in Oklahoma.
A promising lead might be an examination of the reflections of the older town organization in the structure
of the Kee-too-wah societies, but this is beyond the writers’ present knowledge and the scope of this paper.
For the persistence of the Creek town organization in Oklahoma, see Opler, 1952.
8 Accounts of Tsali’s martyrdom vary in details (see Mooney, 1900, pp. 131 and 157-158; Lanman, 1849,
pp. 112-114; and Arthur, 1914),
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 101
tion was fairly well isolated from the rest of the world. Some idea
of the relative isolation can be inferred from the fact that in 1875,
a government official required 2 days to reach the reservation from
Asheville, N.C., a distance of 50 miles that can now be traveled in
slightly over an hour by automobile (Bloom, MS., p. 70).
Thomas assumed a paternal role toward the Eastern Cherokee,
serving as agent, adviser, and effective political leader until his health
failed after the Civil War. Shortly after the Removal, the population
of the Eastern Cherokee was about 1,000, a figure swelled somewhat
by persons who escaped en route to Oklahoma and found their way
back. Although this population was not entirely homogeneous, the
vast majority were Middle Cherokee, who had long been residents
of the area.
The land was divided somewhat arbitrarily into five contiguous
townships that still remain today; these are called Birdtown, Yellow
Hill, Painttown, Wolftown, and Big Cove. The manner in which
people were assigned to these districts is not known, but it is probable
that kinship, sib membership, and former local affiliation were
important determinants. For our purposes, it is important to note
that the new settlement arrangement was artificial in comparison with
the natural unity of older town structure. On the one hand, the reser-
vation as a whole tried to function as a single town but failed for rea-
sons which we will go into shortly. On the other hand, the five town-
ships, while achieving some individual integration, lacked sufficient
size and diversity of membership to attain the status of towns as
defined in the older sense. Nevertheless, there was a conscious at-
tempt to graft the traditional Cherokee social organization onto the
new circumstances.
Under the leadership of Yonaguska (Drowning Bear), a former
peace chief, an old-style council house was erected in Wolftown to
serve the needs of the whole band for a central meeting place (Mooney,
1900, pp. 161, 163). This edifice was described by Lanman in 1849
as, ‘. . . built of hewn logs, very large and circular, without any
floor but that of solid earth, and without any seats but one short
bench intended for the great men of the nation” (Lanman, 1849, p.101).
We learn from the same author that a sacred fire burned continually
in the center of the building and that a large ball field was located
just outside (ibid., p. 104). Soon after Lanman’s visit the building
fell into disrepair and tumbled down. Gulick lists three factors
responsible for the failure of the old-style council town to endure:
(1) prior widespread adoption of white-type farmstead; (2) Christian
influences in undermining the old ceremonial center’s seminal power ;
(3) the composite local origin of the people which made them resistant
to becoming members of a single, highly integrated community
102 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
(Gulick, 1958, p. 248). In addition, the location was not really
central nor was it equally accessible to all parts of the reservation.
During the same period, the organization of the local settlements
also showed considerable nativistic retention. Speck and Schaeffer
obtained valuable information about the former structure of the local
community from Will West Long. Each village settlement com-
munity had a ‘lead chief” or “‘light chief’? (noted also in Lanman,
1849, p. 94). Speck and Schaeffer write:
Each settlement handled its own public, legislative, and social affairs as a small
independent unit. The community chief or “lead chief’? was the social factor
in organizing the group’s activities and formulating policies. He administered
control through a body of 12 men, known as ani tawis kagu (smooth men)!
whom he appointed. They served as police or sheriffs, having official authority
to arrest and punish, according to tribal mores, men and women guilty of mis-
demeanor. They reserved the right to decide the degree of punishment for
minor offense by whipping with sticks (4 to 12 lashes), or they could even pro-
nounce acquittal. The mutual aid cooperative was a branch of this arm of
community organization; its affairs were appointed by the company itself, and
authorized by the community lead chief.
The last “lead chief’? of Big Cove was a man by the name of Chiltoski
(“Falling Corn-Tassel’’), and the office fell into disuse after 1875
(Speck and Schaeffer, 1945, p. 175).™
Lanman gives a picture of relative cultural stability and prosperity
for the Qualla Cherokee during his 1848 visit:
About three-fourths of the entire population can read in their own language,
and though the majority of them understand English, a very few can speak the
language. They practice, to a considerable extent, the science of agriculture,
and have acquired such a knowledge of the mechanic arts as answers them for
all ordinary purposes, for they manufacture their own clothing, their own ploughs,
and other farming utensils, their own axes, and even theirown guns .... They
keep the same domestic animals that are kept by their white neighbors and cul-
tivate all the common grains of the country. They are probably as temperate
as any other class of people on the face of the earth .... They are chiefly
Methodists and Baptists, and have regularly ordained ministers, who preach to
them on every Sabbath, and they have also abandoned many of their more sense-
less superstitions .... Except on festive days, they dress after the manner of
the white man, but far more picturesquely. They live in small log houses of their
own construction, and have everything they need or desire in the way of food.
They are, in fact, the happiest community that I have yet met within this South-
ern country .... [Lanman, 1849, pp. 94-95.]
Lanman (1849, pp. 93, 100, 104) also mentions that ball games and
dancing were popular activities and that about 100 Catawba were
living on the reservation.
13 One of our informants feels this term is better translated as ‘“‘honest men.”
14 A man by the name of Chiltoski was reported to have still been living in a commodious house on a
prosperous farmstead in Big Cove as late as 1892 (Donaldson, 1892, p. 12).
16 Relations with these surviving Catawba soon became strained, and they left to resettle in their former
homes in South Carolina before the Civil War. During their stay, there was some intermarriage, and the
Catawba served to reintroduce pottery, a lost art among the Eastern Cherokee.
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 103
Very little information is available for the Eastern Cherokee from
1848 until the outbreak of the Civil War. When the war erupted,
Thomas was made a colonel in the Confederate Army, and 400 Chero-
kee were recruited to serve in his Legion. The Cherokee were assigned
the task of acting as a home guard and engaged in only a few minor
skirmishes with Federal troops. Nevertheless, the war had some
disastrous aftermaths for the Cherokee. Some of the soldiers who
had joined the Union forces contracted smallpox, and on their return,
an epidemic burst loose on the reservation killing about 100 persons,
a sizable percentage of the population. In addition, Colonel Thomas
went bankrupt and suffered a mental collapse from which he never
recovered. Now, not only was leadership uncertain, but Thomas’
bankruptcy threatened confiscation of the tribal lands, the deeds to
which were in Thomas’ name. This legal problem was not settled
until 1876, when the Federal Government assumed trusteeship of the
reservation.
Jt is not entirely clear how the Cherokee governed themselves
during the slender times following the Civil War, since few travelers
visited them to leave records. We are inclined to assume that they
reverted to a town organization under individual “lead chiefs,” with
each of the five townships attaining some degree of autonomy from
the others. Such an arrangement at least makes the best logical
sense, in view of their previous history and in view of the economic
arrangements found by later observers.
In 1870, the Eastern Cherokee revamped their government along
white lines. Elections were held and a chief, vice chief, and a tribal
council consisting of two representatives from each township were
put into office. Five years later a written constitution was adopted
(Mooney, 1900, p. 173). The near synchronism of the new tribal
government and the passing of the traditional office of ‘lead chief”
was probably not coincidental. Leadership of the community seems
to have passed into the hands of the council representatives whose
glance was now directed outward to the reservation as a whole, rather
than focusing exclusively inward to the internal affairs of the local
community.
The fortunes of the Eastern Cherokee seemed to vacillate during
the three decades prior to 1900. One reason for this was a population
decrease occasioned by the partially successful efforts of the Western
Cherokee to reunify the Nation by luring Eastern Cherokee to Okla-
homa. Also, the scars left by the Civil War were a long time healing.
Reports in 1875 and 1880 describe the Eastern Band as “destitute and
discouraged, almost without stock or farming tools’’ (Mooney, 1900,
p. 174), and ‘in a most deplorable condition,” landless, “‘scarcely able
to live,” and without schools (Wardell, 1938, p. 245). Quakers
104 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
remedied the lack of education by establishing the first school in 1881.
The next year, travelers Zeigler and Grosscup, who stopped a few days
in the Qualla Reservation, reported that the chief lived like a com-
fortable Victorian gentleman. But ‘‘The fields, originally of average
fertility, are worn out by bad farming. There is an abundance of
fruit—apples, peaches, and plums. The predominant crop is corn,
which is reduced to meal by the simple little mills common to the
mountain country” (Zeigler and Grosscup, 1883, p. 36). The sale
of ponies and cattle provided the small amount of cash needed for
taxes and purchases.
There are descriptions of the Gadugi in essentially its present
form from the early 1890’s. Frederick Starr, the early physical
anthropologist of the University of Chicago, visited the reservation
about this time, and afterward in a grammar school text about Indians,
says this of the Eastern Cherokee:
Their fields are fenced and well cultivated. They work them in companies of
ten to twelve persons: such companies are formed to work the fields of each
member in order. [Starr, 1898, p. 144.]
In 1892, Carrington, while collecting statistics for the Interior Depart-
ment, observed a similar company at work in Wolftown, and notes:
. upon the hillsides, so steep that it seemed as if wings or ladders would
be needed for tillage, several patches of from 5 to 10 acres were green with well-
developed wheat, and on one of the slopes a ‘working bee” of 30 men, women and
children were uniting their forces to help a neighbor put in his corn. In places
where even a single steer could not hold footing with the lightest plow, a long
line of willing workers hoed successive parallel seed trenches. [Donaldson,
1892, p. 12.]
Near the turn of the century, the Gadugis began to hire out their
services to white farmers in the vicinity. Whereas formerly the
Gadugi seems to have been based on a simple exchange of services
between neighbors, the addition of money brought about certain
changes in its organization. When the Gadugi was hired out, the
funds received were placed in a common treasury which was annually
divided up among the members. Members had the privilege of bor-
rowing money from the treasury provided that they put up sufficient
collateral in the form of a mortgage on items of personal property, as
stock, house, etc. (Gilbert, 1943, p. 212). Although the Gadugi felt
it had the right to claim mortgaged property for failure to repay loans,
we have yet to hear of any instance where such action was ever taken.
Rather, it seems that until recently the threat of physical coercion or
ostracism from the group was sufficient to bring recalcitrant members
back into line.
Seen from historical perspective, the introduction of money and
the notion of a communal treasury did not constitute an entirely new
No. 11} THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 105
dimension to the agricultural organization. The town organization
of the 18th century included a communal granary, where grain was
stored for assistance to needy people, special events, and the support
of town officials. In one sense then, money can be seen as a functional
substitute for grain. However, the analogy is far from neat, for as
Gilbert mentions, the hiring out of the Gadugi—
. led to a dependence on white people for wages and subsistence instead of
a reliance on their own unaided cultivation of the soil by mutual aid. Conse-
quently the gadugi came under the North Carolina regulations as to corporations
and became subject to taxation. Unable to meet the taxes from their earnings,
the gadugi soon declined and mostly disappeared in the opening years of the
twentieth century. To this decline the Cherokee attribute the reason for the
disappearance of the once prosperous farms that used to dot the hillsides of their
country. [Gilbert, 1943, p. 362.]
These legal actions may have been the death blow to the Gadugi in
many townships, but the organization still managed to survive in
Big Cove.
Another significant development seems to have taken place probably
about the turn of the century. The Gadugi and the poor-aid society
apparently split into separate organizations. Whereas formerly these
two groups were fused together as two arms of the local town organ-
ization (Speck and Schaeffer, 1945, p. 175), they now became differ-
entiated and possessed separate rosters of officers. These two organi-
zations differed in that the Gadugi was a smaller, more tightly knit
cooperative with regularly scheduled activities usually focusing on
agriculture, while the poor-aid society tended to be a looser, more
communitywide organization which was mobilized only in times of
crisis or need, as the management of funerals for deceased townsmen,
the rebuilding and furnishing of someone’s house after fire, or the
donation of material aid and labor to the aged, handicapped, or
infirm. ‘These were not entirely exclusive organizations since
membership and function often overlapped. For example, if a
townsman took ill, the poor-aid society might donate its services
to the upkeep of his fields until he regained health (Mooney and
Olbrechts, 1932, p. 80).
The weakening of the poor-aid society in Yellow Hill as the result
of white influence has been described by Gilbert (1943, pp. 362-363).
The opening of a manual training course in the Government school
in which, among other things, the students built coffins, soon deposed
the coffinmaker, a previously important position in the poor-aid
hierarchy. In addition, the opening of an Agency hospital and the
distribution of Government relief checks gradually stripped the
poor-aid society of its most important functions. Today in many of
the reservation communities the existence of these organizations Is
106 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
given mere lipservice. Since World War IT, Community Clubs, intro-
duced and sponsored by the State of North Carolina, have tended to
replace the poor-aid societies as organizational frameworks for com-
munitywide action. In Big Cove some previous functions of the
poor-aid society, such as grave digging, have been reabsorbed by the
Gadugis.
In the 1920’s, a lumber company obtained rights to cut trees on
the reservation and adjoining areas. Railroad spurs and temporary
sawmills were quickly constructed, and a brief period of prosperity
ensued. Indians were hired singly and in Gadugi groups to assist
in the lumbering operations. A few short years later the company
left, having denuded the area of much of its best timber. Many
Cherokee who had come to depend on the lumber company’s wages
were suddenly jobless.
Following closely on the heels of the lumber company’s departure
was the chestnut blight. The loss of the chestnut tree had important
repercussions on the local economy. Besides losing an excellent fuel
and building material, the Cherokee also lost the chestnut itself, one
of the delicacies in their diet. More important, the chestnut had
helped maintain the local game supply, besides serving as fodder for
domestic animals who in the past had been left free to forage for
themselves in the forests.
Two governmental regulations also played a role in disturbing the
local economy. The age-old Cherokee practice of burning the brush
every autumn was deemed a threat to the forest and forbidden by the
Interior Department.'® The annual burning had helped to restore
fertility to the soil and also helped to control secondary regrowth.
The Cherokee feel that this regulation is causally linked to the chestnut
blight. The enforcement of the State fencing law had a more direct
effect on the economy. ‘This law, which required that all domestic
animals be enclosed by fences, succeeded in killing practically all
stockraising in the region and was directly responsible for the declining
prosperity of local farmsteads.
The national depression, although it affected the subsistence agri-
culture of the Cherokee less than it did industrial areas, was a severe
blow. Government relief funds eased some of the economic pressure.
After World War II came a tourist boom that was stimulated partly
by the new Great Smoky Mountains National Park, which has a long
common border with the Qualla Reservation. Economic conditions
have now improved somewhat, but the relative prosperity and self-
sufficiency of the independent farmer, depicted during the period from
1890-1920, which is remembered by informants as a sort of golden
16 This makes no sense to the Cherokee. They feel that the dead brush that accumulates on the forest
floor increases the possibility of serious forest fire.
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 107
age, has never been completely regained. At present, the tribal
council is endeavoring with fair success to attract small industry to
the reservation.
There are three Gadugis operating in Big Cove today. About one-
fourth of the adult population belongs to these organizations. Two
of these have long been separate, the division having been noted by
Gilbert in 1932 (1943, p. 212) and probably extending further back
in time. This division seems to be based on geography, one group
serving “Stony” or “Calico,” the lower section of Big Cove, and the
other serving the ‘Upper Cove” and “Bunches Creek.” Although
Big Cove is segmented into many subdistricts or wards, the principal
division between Upper and Lower Big Cove seems to have been of
long standing. In the past the two sections engaged each other in
stickball, and today each has its own softball team. In addition,
churches are situated in each district and tend to recruit membership
locally. Jf not impeded by external factors, this process of increasing
differentiation might have led to the formation of two separate com-
munities. A common grammar school, a community club, and com-
mon representation in the tribal council tend to unite the larger
community, but the underlying sectionalism is still present. The
Lower Big Cove Gadugi has deteriorated of late and only numbers
about five or six active members, most of whom are ‘‘White Indians.”
In the past, membership was larger, and the group was more active.
This Gadugi seems to have declined since the death of its former chief
many years ago.
The Gadugi in Upper Big Cove split into two groups about 5 years
ago because of internal dissension. The newer group blames the
split on the dishonesty of the former treasurer” and the general
laziness of the members, while the parent group feels the split was
caused by gossiping wives. It is interesting to note that the break
seems to have been along matrilineal lines, since the nucleus of the
new group is formed by three sisters and their families. Although
the Gadugi is supposedly a male organization, this split left two sets
of brothers in different Gadugis, suggesting that while the overt
structure of the Gadugi is male dominated, females possess much power
in the latent structure of the organization. The newer group has
about 15 active members, while the older has about 25. Although this
split cannot be accounted for by geographic considerations, probably
the size of the organization and the increased possibility of inter-
personal clashes were important determinants. It appears that a
membership of about 30 is the optimum for a smooth-running Gadugi.
Beyond this size the organization seems to become unwieldy.
17 This man has since been accused of squandering funds by the older Gadugi and has joined the newer
group, where, we are told, he will never be entrusted with the office of treasurer.
536135—61——8
108 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
In 1958, the larger Gadugi elected a full roster of officers.2 The
organization is headed by a chief and an assistant chief who decide
what work shall be done and where, and serve as overseers during the
work.!® The secretary keeps a record of attendance at work parties,
of the election of officers, and of changes in the rules. The treasurer
records the amount of money collected at social meetings, and its
disbursement. Theoretically speaking, women are not supposed to
hold office in the Gadugi, except as cooks, but in this instance a
woman was elected treasurer. Two warners or messengers, young
men chosen from different neighborhoods, notify the members of
approaching work parties. Other positions include a grave-digger’s
foreman, a carpenter’s foreman,” and four female cooks. This
Gadugi boasts a distinctive and, we think, rather informal office—the
“chairman” or adviser—filled by an elderly man who is one of the
few men in Big Cove still fluent in Sequoyah’s syllabary and able to
keep records in Cherokee for the group.
Whenever the Gadugi works someone’s fields or chops wood for a
needy person, the recipient of the labor is obligated to serve the group
ameal. This is no ordinary repast but a minor feast, usually including
fried chicken and many other delicacies. While the elected cooks
handle the cooking chores, the food must be supplied by the host.
This frequently results in a seeming contradiction of goals. A needy
person requiring the help of the Gadugi often has to borrow money in
order to feed the group in proper fashion.
In the summer, the Gadugi can be summoned on 1 day’s notice, but
during the winter 3 days’ notification is necessary. When the corn
is planted, the Gadugi may meet to work two or three times during
1 week, and then may not meet for another 2 or 3 weeks. During the
winter, the chief function of the Gadugi is to cut wood for old or
incapacitated members. The Gadugi also contributes labor to the
building of houses and foot bridges.
Most informants agree that in the past the Gadugi was a very
efficient work team. Not only were clearing, planting, and harvesting
the fields considered group endeavors, but also weeding and ‘‘topping”’
the corn during the growing season. White men in the community
often were members of the organization and worked side by side with
the Indians. In the old days, a work party was looked upon as a very
happy occasion. Fifty or more people would gather at the appointed
field; each person would be responsible for one or more rows of corn
18 See translation of the Gadugi’s minutes in Appendix 2.
19 While the data of Speck and Schaeffer (1945) suggest that the office of poor-aid leader was a survival of
the older office of peace chief, Gearing (1958, p. 1157, footnote) states that the word for a Gadugi foreman
means war chief. Our field data support Gearing’s statement.
20 Positions newly incorporated into the Gadugi from the poor-aid society.
21“ To cook night and day’”’—day cooks prepare food while the group is working in the fields, while night
cooks handle kitchen responsibility during ‘‘setups’’ or all-night wakes that precede burial.
No. 11} THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 109
and go along it to the end. There were so many workers that the job
was always finished quickly. Old men hated to be left out and would
be given small plots to hoe along with the rest. The old people
would also sit around and tell stories and contribute in general to the
group morale. Children, who were also part of the scene, would play
games or make themselves useful by fetching water for the workers
or performing other light tasks. While the group toiled, the cooks
prepared enormous feasts which are still remembered with reminiscent
appetite. Those who were unable to join in the work on the an-
nounced day would often donate food or money to compensate for
their absence.
Recent observations of the Gadugis in action stand in marked
contrast to the sunny chunks of memory culture reported above.
Work parties of the 1950’s do not attract such numbers, and one hears
frequent complaints about people who turn up just before dinner
and disappear shortly after.
Perhaps some of the most significant recent developments in the
Gadugi are pie socials and box suppers, institutions that were first
introduced about 1918 by mission churches and adopted by the
Gadugis within the past 10 years. One night a week at the home
of one of the members, boxes of fried chicken or fish with bean bread,
and other local delicacies, or cakes and pies are donated and auctioned
off to the highest bidder. Hot dogs and soda pop are also sold at
these social gatherings, and total proceeds are placed in the Gadugi
treasury. On good nights as much as $30 israised. Careful account-
ing is made of each purchase, so that the total amount put into the
treasury by each member can be easily reckoned. The amount
listed under a member’s name helps determine how much he may
borrow and facilitates settlement if the member should decide to quit
the organization. Thus it can be seen that the buying of a cake or
pie at a pie social represents an investment rather than a mere
purchase.
As was mentioned previously, the Gadugis used to divide up their
earnings once a year. Membership therefore constituted something
of a 1-year contract. This notion is strengthened by the fact that
the annual election of new officers is, in Cherokee, phrased as ‘“‘renew-
ing” the Gadugi. Money is no longer given back directly, except in
the case of loans, but is used for sponsoring Christmas parties or
purchasing equipment, as when one of the groups purchased a $180
power saw last winter. Nowadays some money remains in the
treasury to tide the group over from year to year, giving the organiza-
tion more continuity than it previously possessed. Also, when an
expensive piece of equipment is purchased, as a power saw, members
feel they own a share of it as long as it lasts.
110 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
The future of the Gadugi is uncertain. Many informants feel that
interest in the Gadugi is declining, with attendance not so loyal as in
the past, and increased internal dissension. ‘The fact that the Gadugi
has survived as long as it has is remarkable in view oi all the external
factors that have jeopardized its existence. Locking into the future,
the most imminent threat to the organization would seem to be an
increased number of salaried jobs on the reservation and an accom-
panying change in the conservative value system toward greater
emphasis on individual achievement. Until these changes start tak-
ing place at a more rapid rate than at present, the Gadugi should
continue to persist as a viable, though atrophied institution.
COMPARATIVE EVIDENCE
Agricultural cooperatives and mutual-aid organizations have a
worldwide distribution. In his review of cooperative labor,
Herskovits cites references to agricultural cooperatives in East and
West Africa (with Haitian ‘“survivals’’), in Nerth America among the
Hidatsa and several Southwestern tribes, in the Pacific and in Indo-
nesia among the Dyaks of Borneo (Herskovits, 1952, pp. 99-108).
It is beyond the scope of this paper to digest and interpret these
diverse data. However, some relevant comparisons can be made
between the Cherokee cooperatives and those found among other
Southeastern tribes and the Nerthern Iroquois.
Swanton has given us a concise and informative summary of the
sexual division of labor for agriculture in the aboriginal Southeast.
The greater part of the cultivation was by the women, but the cultivation
of the soil in preparation for planting and some of the early cultivation was
performed communally, men and women working together. Gatherings for this
purpose were also made the occasion for social diversion, work ceasing at noon
or soon after, a sumptuous feast following, the afternoon being devoted to a ball
game and the evening to dancing. In Florida the men cultivated the ground and
the women followed them, planting the seed. In Carolina Lawson says that,
unlike the Iroquois, the women never planted corn, while among the Powhatan
Indians, according to Smith, women did all of the work. The missionary Gravier
declares that among the Tunica all of this work was done by the men. Some
confusion on this point may have been due to the fact that, in addition to the com-
munal fields, there were small garden patches about most Indian towns which
were maintained entirely by women. [Swanton, 1928 b, p. 691.]
In another essay, Swanton, relying on Bartram, goes into greater
detail for the Creek:
The smaller garden plots were cared for almost exclusively by women, but
the town fields were tended by individuals of both sexes, and Bartram says that
“there are not one-third as many females as males seen at work in their planta-
tions; for, at this season of the year, by a law of the people, they do not hunt,
the game not being in season till after their crops or harvest is gathered in, so the
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 111
males have little else with which to employ themselves.’’ Later on in the season
the same writer tells us that the labor falling upon women was harder. [Swanton
1928 a, p. 385.]
The aboriginal Creek agricultural system paralleled that of the
Cherokee quite closely. Townsmen were summoned by an overseer
and worked fields communally in rotation. Much sociability took
place during and following the work. In addition, there were commu-
nal as well as individual granaries.
Although one early source says of Chickasaw warriors “. . . rather
than condescend to cultivate the earth (which they think beneath
them) they sit and toy with their women . . . lolling thus their time
away with great indifference... .’’ Swanton notes that as the
observer ‘entertained no love for this particular tribe, it is probable
that he has not presented their usages in the most favorable light.”
Swanton (1928 c, pp. 228-229) believes that the Chickasaw pattern
was similar to that described for the Creek. Le Page du Pratz (1758,
p. 309) reports that among the 18th-century Natchez the men cleared
the fields and hoed the corn, although he says in general, ‘‘the girls
and women work more than the men and the boys.”
A painting by Jacques le Moyne (1564 or 1565, engraved by Theo-
dore de Bry) illustrates the division of labor of the Timucua of the
east coast of Florida. The picture shows men and women working
together in a field. The men are breaking up the ground with ‘“‘a
kind of hoe made from fish bones fitted to wooden handles,” while
‘‘the planting is done by the women, some making [regularly spaced]
holes with sticks, into which the others drop the seeds of beans or
maize” which they take from shallow baskets (Lorant, 1946, p. 77.
Also reproduced, on smaller scale, in Fundaburk and Foreman, 1957,
p. 26). Laudonniére, commander of the Huguenot expedition which
Le Moyne accompanied, adds these details:
They sow their maize twice a year—to wit in March and in June—and all
in one and the same soil. The said maize, from the time that it is sowed until
the time that it be ready to be gathered, is but six months on the ground; the
other six months, they let the earth rest. They have also fine pumpkins, and very
good beans They never dung their land, only when they would sow they set
weeds on fire, which grow up the six months, and burn them all. They dig their
ground with an instrument of wood, which is fastened like a broad mattock,
wherewith they dig their vines in France; they put two grains of maize together.
When the land is to be sowed, the king commandeth one of his men to assemble his
subjects every day to labor, during which labor the king causeth store of that drink
[cassine] to be made for them whereof we have spoken. At the time when the maize
is gathered, it is all carried into a common house, where it is distributed to every
man, according to his quality. They sow no more but that which they think will
serve their turn for six months, and that very scarcely. [Quoted in Swanton,
1922, p. 359, italics supplied. Illustrated in Lorant, 1946, p. 79.]
112 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
This account, since it predates the observations of Bartram and Adair
by almost two hundred years, is of great value for assigning consider-
able age to male participation in communal agriculture in the South-
east. The dispensation of the drink hints at the festive or perhaps
religious atmosphere surrounding the work.
Before passing to the Iroquois, we quote Lawson’s description of
an interesting custom practiced in the early 18th century by one of
the small Eastern Siouan tribes or perhaps the Tuscarora (not speci-
fied) which seems to have certain parallels to Cherokee poor-aid
practices.
They are very kind and charitable to one another, but more especially to those
of their own Nation [town or sib?]; for if any one of them has suffered any Loss,
by Fire, or otherwise, they order the grieved Person to make a Feast, and invite
them all thereto, which, on the day appointed, they come to, and after every
Man’s Mess of Victuals is dealt to him, one of their Speakers, or grave old Men,
makes an Harrangue, and acquaints the Company, That that Man’s House has
been burnt, wherein all his Goods were destroyed; That he and his Family very
narrowly escaped; That he is every Man’s Friend in that Company; and, That
it is all their Duties to help him, as he would do to any of them had the like
Misfortune befallen them. After this Oration is over, every Man, according to
his Quality, throws him down upon the Ground some Present, which is commonly
Beads, Ronoak, Peak, Skins, or Furs, and which very often amounts to treble
the Loss he has suffered. The same Assistance they give to any Man that wants
to build a Cabin, or make a Canoe. They say it is our Duty thus to do; for there
are several Works that one Man cannot effect, therefore we must give him our
Help, otherwise our Society will fall, and we shall be deprived of those urgent
Necessities which Life requires. [Lawson, 1714, pp. 188-189.]
In this example, and others which could be cited, the use of a feast as
a lever for group effort can be clearly seen. This may explain the
seemingly paradoxical findings for the contemporary Eastern Cherokee
in which needy people feel obligated to give a meal, even on borrowed
money, when the Gadugi comes to help them. Also, the use of
communal male labor for difficult tasks, as house building, seems to be
general throughout the Southeast.
It appears from this cursory review of the aboriginal Southeast that
men, as well as women, generally played an important part in agri-
culture, and that organized communal labor in the fields and in
assistance to the poor were fairly universal in the area. Also, this
system of cooperation was closely linked to the local town organization,
which in many ways transcended the household as a basic unit in
social organization.
Mutual aid and cooperative agricultural organizations among the
Iroquois have been mentioned in a number of places.” Before
32 The authors’ grasp on Iroquois ethnography is at best tenuous. Neither of us has had first-hand field
experience in Canada or New York State, nor do we pretend to adequate command of the rich documentary
source material available to the Iroquois scholar. We hope merely to draw comparison and help stimulate
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 113
attempting to draw some comparisons between the Cherokee coopera-
tive institutions and those of the Iroquois, as they appeared historically
and as they persist today, it might be well to consider first some relevant
basic structural features in which Cherokee and Iroquois society
differed.
Geographical features of the two areas seem to have encouraged
differences in settlement pattern. The Iroquois area afforded Pain
abundance of arable land in contrast to the mountainous topography
that characterized much of the Cherokee homeland. As a result,
Cherokee settlements tended to be more spatially diffuse, often follow-
ing tillable land along meandering river valleys and irregular mountain
hollows. Iroquois settlements, on the other hand, were generally
more compact and able to support a more concentrated population.
In addition, the openness of the Iroquois territory and the propinquity
of hostile Algonkin bands and other Iroquoian groups necessitated
protective measures not required in the more isolated Cherokee
heartland. For defensive purposes, the Iroquois tended to locate
their villages on elevated bluffs away from watercourses, and they
also surrounded their villages with palisades, a practice that lasted
until the end of the 17th century (Houghton, 1916, p. 513, and Stites,
1905, p. 64, citing Lafitau). Palisaded villages were rare among the
Cherokee except in those towns lying on the exposed flanks of their
territory (Lewis and Kneberg, 1958, p. 158).
In the 17th century, Iroquois villages appeared to be more populous
than those of the Cherokee and fewer in number. Fenton (1940,
p. 203) lists a total of only 10 to 13 towns for all of the Five Nations.
He estimates a total Mohawk population of 2,700 in 1634 distributed
in 3 towns, the largest numbering 1,035, the smallest 810 (ibid., p.
206). These per-town figures are almost twice as large as those
reported for the largest Cherokee towns. In another place, Fenton
(1951, p. 41) says, “Before 1687, the League Iroquois were 12 or 13
villages, ranging between 300 and 600 persons per town.” This more
conservative estimate would still make the average Iroquois village
twice as populous as the average Cherokee village.
One of the mechanisms by which the Iroguois were able to concen-
trate their population was, of course, the longhouse, a multifamily
dwelling accommodating as many as one hundred or more individuals
(Goldenweiser, 1922, p. 70). Whereas the town, or symbolically the
townhouse, was the principal focus of Cherokee culture, the longhouse
tended to be the basic conceptual unit of Iroquois life. Iroquois
residence rules seem to have been more strictly matrilocal than those
research in the important, but too often neglected area of joint work groups. In writing this section we
have relied primarily on secondary sources. ‘The sources consulted which mentioned mutual-aid societies
or cooperative agricultural groups were: Stites, 1905; Waugh, 1916; Goldenweiser, 1922; Fenton, 1936 and
1931; Quain, 1937; Lyford, 1945; Speck and Schaeffer, 1945; Noon, 1949; and Brown, 1950.
114 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
of the Cherokee, and the spiritual, as well as authoritarian, core of the
longhouse was a group of matrilineally related lanswomen headed
by an elder matron. Some of the implications of this fundamental
difference in town size and house type will be deait with shortly.
The Iroquois also seemed to have shared with the Cherokee a
system of private-family gardens and larger cornfields which, while
individually owned, were worked communally (Waugh, 1916, p. 7).
While the Cherokee utilized a communal granary, supplied by dona-
tions from the fields of ail townsmen, for religious and civil functions
and emergencies, the Irequois are reported to have reserved special
fields to provide for such purposes (ibid., p. 6). The Iroquois fields
were closely grouped outside the walls of the village. The fields
of the Cherokee were normally located within the confines of the
town, interspersed amongst the houses, and sometimes were planted
up to the edge of the council house.
There is much literature concerning the sexual division of labor,
especiaily the role of women, among the aboriginal Iroquois. Male
participation in agriculture was strongly devalued in Iroquois society.
However, it is known that the men did participate to the extent of
clearing the land by girdiing trees and burning over the fields. There
is also some evidence that men assumed the tasks of fencing the
gardens and preparing bundles of corn for drying (Stites, 1905, p. 29,
citing La Potherie and Lafitau). Moreover, certain classes of males
did take part in cultivation. These included old men, children,
cripples, captives who were not formally adopted into the tribe, and
effeminate men. Ely S. Parker was quite explicit about the degraded
status of an able-bodied man who pursued agriculture. He says,
“«’. . when any man, excepting the cripples, old men, and those disabled in war
or hunting, chose to till the earth, he was at once ostracised from the men’s
society, classed as a woman or squaw, and disqualified from sitting or speaking
in the councils of his people until he had redeemed himself by becoming a skillful
warrior or a successful hunter.’’ [Quoted in Stites, 1905, p. 42.]
A. C. Parker remarks about the persistence of this attitude by noting,
“Some of the old warriors whom the writer interviewed told laughable
stories of grim old ‘warricrs’ who had been caught with a hoe and
how they excused themselves” (Parker, 1910, p. 22).
This stigma attached to males who engaged in agriculture was not
as strong in some Iroqucian groups. Carr says of the Hurons,
. The men not only habitually cleared the land . . . but they frequently
took part in what is technically known as working the crop, and also aided in
the labors of the harvest field. This may not have been part of their duty .. .
but when asked to aid in the gathering of the crop, they did not scorn to lend a
helping hand. [Quoted in Stites, 1905, p. 28.]
With the Cherokee also, as we have attempted to show in the first
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 115
section, male participation in agriculture was frequent, despite the
fact that it was chiefiy a woman’s activity.
One of the most tantalizing, and at the same time crucial, questions
in understanding Cherokee-Iroquois local organization is the extent
to which sibs or clans tended toward common residence within the
local community (see footnote 5, p. 91). The evidence is suggestive,
but unfortunately inconclusive, in the case of both the Cherokee and
the Iroquois, and, because of the failure of older rules of residence to
survive to the present, current fieldwork in reservation communities
will not give us the answer.
With respect to the Iroquois, Goldenweiser states,
The clans, in ancient times, were associated with localitics and longhouses, not
in the sense of a clan claiming exclusive occupation of a village or a longhouse
. . . but in the sense of a clan being regarded as preeminenily associated, as being
in “control,” in a village or a longhouse. [Goldenweiser, 1913, p. 368.]
In a similar vein, Fenton (1951, p. 50) cites Asher Wright and state-
ments by informants that, “each clan had its own chief, that formerly
the different clans tended to reside together, if not in composite
households, in adjacent districts of a settlement with which the name
of the dominant clan was associated.”
There is similar suggestive evidence for Cherokee “clan” localiza-
tion. Charles Hicks, a prominent Cherokee chief, had this to say
in 1818:
The national council is composed of chiefs from each clan, some sending more
some less, regard being had to the population of each—though the number is not
very definitely fixed. Each clan has its separate portion of land, which it helds in
common right—the poorest man having the same right as the greatest. [Quoted
in Swanton, 1946, p. 654—italics supplied.]
Another hint of possible ‘‘clan’’ localization derives from the fact that
after the Removal, when the present five Hastern Cherokee townships
were set up, three of the five towns were given “clan” names (Paint-
town, Wolftown, and Birdtown). This latter clue should not be taken
too seriously, because of the artificial conditions under which these
townships were set up. However, a close examination of local named
neighborhoods within the townships, before the rules of residence had
completely broken down, might have revealed positive signs of “clan”
localization.
If we assume, for speculative purposes, that Iroquois clans were
localized in Goldenweiser’s sense of “predominant” within a subarea
of a town or village, or within a longhouse, it seems reasonable to
assume that the communal agriculture carried on by women, de-
scribed by Mary Jemison and others, was a clan-oriented (or clan-
controlled) organization. This would seem especially likely where,
116 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
in longhouses, the possibility of finding a sufficient number of women
of the same clan was high.
For the Cherokee, in contrast, the absence of the longhouse, the
less secure evidence of clan localization, the greater participation of
men in agriculture, together with evidence of a more diffuse settlement
pattern and considerably smaller town size, would all be factors
unfavorable to the formation of sib-dominated work groups. It is
probable that cooperative work groups were locally recruited, and in
towns of smaller size may have included the whole town, and thus had
a community or neighborhood orientation, with sib considerations
being secondary.
Let us now look briefly at some of the historical factors that helped
shape the structure of the present-day Iroquois mutual aid groups.
The older palisaded villages had disappeared and longhouse living
patterns were fairly well broken down by the beginning of the 18th
century. From this point on, Iroquois villages began to lose their
former quality of compactness and came to approximate more and
more their present pattern of scattered rural homesteads.
During the 18th century the Iroquois were key figures in the power
struggle between Britain and France for control of the New World.
Their strategic position and striking power played a significant role in
the eventual British victory. Besides warfare, hunting for food and
furs continued to be the major occupation of Iroquois men during
this period. The Iroquois again allied themselves with the British
during the American Revolution. The war left the Iroquois defeated,
demoralized, and disenfranchised. They retired to reservations in the
United States and Canada where a condition of general anomie
prevailed.
The blocking of the traditional spheres of male activity, warfare
and hunting (the latter now less profitable because of diminished
game resources), dictated a social reorientation toward white-style
farming. ‘The Cherokee were faced with a similar crisis following the
Revolution but were successful in rapidly assimilating white agricul-
tural patterns, perhaps because of earlier male preadaptation to farm-
ing. For the Iroquois, however, the transition was more difficult owing
to the deep-rooted male abhorrence toward working in the fields. Also,
it was believed that the connection between women and crops was
such that only women could make them grow (Deardorff, 1951, p. 94).
Although the Iroquois were traditionally agriculturalists, the newer
agriculture called for the use of the plow and manpower to supplant
the previous female hoe agriculture (ibid.). Deardorff quotes from
Jackson’s observations in 1801 among Cornplanter’s Seneca in refer-
ence to the cautious acceptance of the plow, only after experimenta-
tion:
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 117
“Several parts of a large field were ploughed, and the intermediate spaces
prepared by women with the hoe, according to the former custom. It was all
planted with corn; and the parts ploughed . . . produced much the heaviest
crop.” [Deardorff, 1951, p. 94.]
A year or so before (1799), also in the Cornplanter area, the prophet
Handsome Lake’s revelations included pronouncements for men to
take up the plow, thus giving supernatural sanction for the acceptance
of the newer pattern.
It is difficult to trace the exact route of male entry into the female
cooperative agricultural units which had already been existing for a
considerable time. In one sense, the composite male-female coopera-
tives can be viewed as extensions of the organization of work sur-
rounding the clearing of the land in which men had formerly
participated. Fenton feels that the current mutual-aid society
“apparently had its beginnings as a society of males who banded
together to assist the women of a clan to whom they were married and
their own sisters. They were coresidents in a composite household,
or at least of the settlement”’ (Fenton, 1951, p. 50). It seems as if one
can take a long view and see the present organizations as continua-
tions of the aboriginal female cooperative groups, or take a shorter
view that looks at these institutions as relatively recent, appearing
only with the advent of male participation in agriculture during the
beginning of the 19th century.
The present-day Iroquois mutual-aid societies fall into two types:
singing societies and bees (Fenton, 1936, p. 5). Among the con-
servative Iroquois still practicing the Handsome Lake religion are
found the singing societies, which take their name from the group
singing that accompanies the “feast” after the day’s labors. The
ideology governing these groups is deeply rooted in the teachings of
Handsome Lake. In addition to working in the fields, these groups
also assist one another in chopping wood, clearing the tribal cemetery,
building and repairing houses, and giving aid to needy individuals
(ibid., p. 5); all these functions can be found in similar Cherokee
groups. Fenton also mentions a field which all the people cultivate
for the benefit of the poor and needy (ibid., p. 5), a trait that seems
like an aboriginal survival. The officers of the singing society include
a leader and an assistant leader from each group of four clans, a first
and second drummer, and a messenger or poormaster to whom needy
persons apply for aid and who notifies the other members where and
when the group will work (ibid., p. 5). Although clan considerations
still obtain in the selection of a chief, locality seems to be the principal
factor determining membership, and anyone can join who shows a
willingness to work.
118 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Cooperative work groups are also found among the Christian Iro-
quois. These organizations are usually called bees, and while they
function in a similar fashion to the singing societies, they are usually
arms of other larger organizations inspired by the church or sponsored
by civic groups ase. Ds Oo)
These Iroquois cooperatives do not seem to approach the comparable
Cherokee groups in complexity of formal structural features, such as
elaborate roster of offices, rules, minutes, etc. Speck and Schaeffer
(1945, p. 176), while noting these differences, feel that the Cherokee
and Iroquois institutions have a similar base if stripped of their
modern trapping. According to them the reconstructed prototype
may be defined as, ‘‘a voluntary association of individuals, probably
community-wide, organized under the supervision of a leader and
several assistants to carry on mutual aid or relief within the locality
on a reciprocal basis” (ibid., p. 178). The Iroquois and Cherokee
are said to share a common pattern of “institutionalization,” which
differentiates them sharply from the Algonkin, and Senetiene the
evidence for cultural linkage in the past Hainan these two divergent
members of the same linguistic family.
It is possible the Cherokee and Iroquois joint-work groups may
be modern manifestations of a genius for “‘institutionalization,” and
highly developed patterns of generosity and group effort stemming
from roots genetically related in the remote prehistoric past. How-
ever, it is our impression, after reviewing the data, that the aboriginal
Cherokee organization, which is ancestral to the contemporary joint-
work groups, is most closely allied to similar organizations among other
Southeastern Indians, notably the Creek. The more recent similarity
between contemporary Cherokee and Iroquois cooperative work groups
is better explained, we feel, as an example of modern convergence in
response to similar historical factors, such as the overt disappearance
of hunting and warrior patterns, reservation culture, and accultura-
tion to rural American patterns of farming.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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ARTHUR, J. P.
1914. Western North Carolina, a history, 1730-1913. Raleigh, N.C.
666
Bees’ also occur among the modern Longhouse people at Allegany (especially) and Cattaraugus
ae tions. I have attended several very pleasant quilting bees at Allegany, to raise money for the
Longhouse and for mutual aid in quilting; these are women’s affairs, include a meal, and are very loosely
organized without formal officers, ete. The informal ‘socials’ held ia the Longhouse resemble bees: they are
generally held to raise money for Longhouse affairs by selling food contributed by members of the com-
munity; they normally also involve singing and dancing for recreation; men participate, but women seem
to be the main organizers; they also are very informally structured. These strike me as conservative rural
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BarTRAM, W1LLIAM.
1791. Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, east & west Florida.
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1900. Iroquois women. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 13, pp. 81-91.
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Broom, LEONARD.
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Brown, A. F.
1950. On Onondaga fieldwork. Bull. Philadelphia Anthrop. Soc., vol. 3,
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CRANE, VERNER W.
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DerarporFr, Mere H.
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N. Fenton, Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149, pp. 77-108.
Dona.pson, THOMAS.
1892. The eastern band of Cherokees of North Carolina. Extra Census
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Fenton, Wiiu1aM N.
1936. Some social customs of the modern Seneca. Social Welfare Bull.,
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William N. Fenton, Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149, pp. 35-54.
FunpaABurk, E. L., and Foreman, M. D. F., Eprrors.
1957. Sun circles and human hands. Luverne, Ala.
GEARING, FREDERICK O.
. Cherokee political organizations, 1730-1775. MS., Ph. D. dissertation,
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GILBERT, WILLIAM HL.
1943. The Eastern Cherokee. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop.
Pap. No. 23, pp. 169-413.
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Ann. Rep. Smithsonian Inst. for 1956, pp. 529-555.
GOLDENWEISER, ALEXANDER A.
1913. On Iroquois work. Canada Dept. of Mines, Summary Report of the
Geological Survey of Canada, pp. 365-372. Ottawa.
1922. Early civilization. New York.
120 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
GuLick, JOHN.
1958. The acculturation of Eastern Cherokee community organization.
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Haas, Mary R.
1940. Creek intertown relations. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 42, pp. 479-489.
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1952. Economie anthropology. New York.
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1916. The characteristics of Iroquoian village sites of western New York.
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KROEBER, ALFRED L.
1939. Cultural and natural areas of native North America. Univ. California
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LANMAN, CHARLES.
1849. Letters from the Alleghany Mountains. New York.
LAWSON, JOHN.
1714. History of North Carolina. London. [Edition used: 2d ed., 1951
(i.e., 1952), ed. by F. L. Harriss, Richmond, Va.]
LEPAGE Du PRATz, ANTOINE S.
1758. Histoire de la Louisiane. Paris. [Edition used: History of Louisi-
ana, ed. by 8. C. Arthur, New Orleans, 1947.]
Lewis, THomas M. N., and KNEBERG, MADELINE.
1958. Tribes that slumber. Knoxville.
LORANT, STEFAN.
1946. The New World: The first pictures of America. New York.
LyrorD, CarRiE A.
1945. Iroquois crafts. Publ. U.S. Indian Service, Indian Handcraft Pamph-
lets No. 6. Haskell Institute, Lawrence, Kans.
MAtone, Henry T.
1956. Cherokee of the Old South. Athens, Ga..
Mooney, JAMES.
1900. Myths of the Cherokee. 19th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1897-98,
pt. 1, pp. 3-576.
Moongy, JAMES, and OLBRECHTS, FRANS.
1932. The Swimmer manuscript. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 99.
Murpock, GrorGcE PETER.
1949. Social structure. New York.
1956. Political moieties. Jn The state of the social sciences, ed. by L. D.
White, pp. 1383-147. Chicago.
Noon, Joon A.
1949. Law and government of the Grand River Iroquois. Viking Fund Publ.
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1952. The Creek town and the problem of Creek Indian political reorganiza-
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PARKER, ARTHUR C.
1910. Iroquois uses of maize and other food plants. New York State Educa-
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1938. A political history of the Cherokee Nation, 1838-1907. Norman, Okla.
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1916. Iroquois foods and food preparation. Canada. Dept of Mines.
Geolog. Surv. Mem. 86, No. 12, Anthrop. Ser. Ottawa.
WILLIAMS, SAMUEL C.
1937. Dawn of Tennessee Valley and Tennessee history. Johnson City,
Tenn.
WILLIAMS, SAMUEL C., Eprror.
1928. Early travels in the Tennessee Country, 1540-1800. Johnson City,
Tenn.
WITTHoFT, JOHN.
1947. Notes on a Cherokee migration story. Journ. Washington Acad. Sci.,
vol. 37, pp. 304-305.
1948. Will West Long, Cherokee informant. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 50,
pp. 355-359.
ZEIGLER, WILBUR G., and Grosscup, Ben §.
1883. The heart of the Alleghanies: Or western North Carolina. Raleigh,
N.C.
122 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
APPENDIX 1
Minutes of a Meeting of the Mutual Aid Society held at Big Cove
Settlement, Cherokee Reservation, N.C. (translation of a diary
record of Will West Long, 1932, published in Speck and Schaeffer,
1945):
raven’s old gravely yard, August 10, 1932, held meeting and organized to make
as a company, renew it and reelect its officers for as long as one year.
First, motioned it and seconded it, chosen as temporary chairman, chairman
Tiskwa na i (Going Bird). Next motioned and seconded, chosen Will West
as secretary for one year. Third, motioned and seconded, chief head to make
speech (explaining) what he has done, also other officers.
Again motioned and seconded: to person who has had any trouble or sickness,
to support or help them; Chicilili (Driver) will be the head as long as one year.
Then the volunteer (candidate) to run against Chickilili, Lloyd Wahi ya (Wolf).
Ordered and given them to vote, voted first Lloyd, then last Chickilili.
Lloyd—8 votes
Chickilili—5 votes
Next, assistant chosen, Djani es i (John Lossiah) reelected, chairman allowed
him a vote, run against him, for one year.
Next, dead persons coffin-maker, there should be elected again. Chairman
allowed them to vote. Driver (Will) should be reelected, they all voted
unanimously.
Next, graveyard digger, mentioned and seconded, should be reelected
Gwolidge (Wati)
Next motioned, Sunday, foreman, appointed against Gwolidge.
Gwolidge—5 votes
Sunday—10 votes
Sunday elected for one year
Notifier, motioned and seconded, Mason Driver, next Janaluska
Next motioned Russel, motioned elected, Jonah Armachain
Janaluska—4 votes
Mason—11 votes, elected
Russel—8 votes, elected
Jonah—4 votes
Mason, Russel elected for one year
Mentioned and seconded, Joe Wolf reelected coffin-maker elected.
Next, second assistant coffin-maker, mentioned and seconded, let it be reelected
Johnny Driver.
Mentioned and seconded Mark Panther, assistant
Johnny Driver—2 votes
Mark Panther—11 votes, elected
Motioned and seconded: if superintendant has an interruption, half-time
assistant has to take authority; right to give order to notifier, to help them (people),
but first he has to go to find out if it is necessary to help them.
Motioned and seconded: if anyone is an old man, very old and helpless, also some
old woman, cannot heip herself and is living by herself, he (or she) in anything
can be helped; seconded.
Foreman or superintendent, to give order must give advance notice three days
before, but if it is hoeing corn or cutting wood, then just at any time he has right
to give orders to work.
No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 123
APPENDIX 2
Minutes of Gadugi meeting January 8, 1958 (translated by Lloyd
Runningwolf and Ray Fogelson, also available as written in Sequoyah
syllabary and on tape):
The company met today, January 8, 19538. Right now they are renewing the
free labor company and electing new officers. They chose Lloyd Wolf Chairman.
And now the chairman gives the order to elect officers. Right now they elected
Steve Watty as chief foreman. All of them voted (unanimous). And right
now Jonah Armachain was elected second assistant. All of them voted.
This is how they decide if somebody thinks he needs help. He notifies the
chief four days in advance and they estimate what (work) he needs done and
whatever food if he needs it, we donate.
Also, now they elect the warners—Nickodemus (Nick Driver) and John Wilbur
Smith and four cooks to cook day and night—Rachel (Watty), Lizzy (Sequoyah),
Kina (Armachain) and Nelly (Armachain), and gravediggers’ foreman Mark
Welche and Wilson Welche and carpenters’ foreman Lloyd and Walker Calhoun.
Big Cove Welfare Company Free Labor bosses, Steve and Jonah, Secretary
Emerson Sequoyah. Money treasurer Rachel Watty. Chairman Lloyd Wolf
life-time chairman and Cherokee clerk (scribe) are seated for one year. Moved
and seconded. Moved that this meeting be closed, seconded.
536135-—61——9
ris
Py anes
raat §
HAT
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 12. The Rise of the Cherokee State as an Instance in a
Class: The “Mesopotamian” Career to Statehood
By FRED O. GEARING
125
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Sy At ener in tps oe te dept ena er oot imines
THE RISE OF THE CHEROKEE STATE AS AN
INSTANCE IN A CLASS: THE “MESOPOTAMIAN”
CAREER TO STATEHOOD
By Frep GEARING
Unwersity of Washington
In human history, probably thousands of states have been created
by an unending process whereby states form, the states then break
up into smaller parts, and these parts (usually joined by parts from
other states similarly broken) reorganize themselves into new states.
The formation of the United States was an instance of the creation
of a state out of parts, each part having had in its political tradition
the prior experience of statehood.
But in some few score instances in human history, states have been
formed by people who had lived in politically independent face-to-face
communities, that is, who had had no prior experience of living in
states. These new or naive states may arise through the conquest
and forceful dominance by one community over others. Or these
naive states may arise out of segmentary societies when ranking
lineages or clans gain monopoly over functions deemed vital, for
example, rainmaking, and through such monopoly gain coercive
leverage over lesser lineages or clans. Or these naive states may
arise when several politically independent face-to-face communities
voluntarily join in a single political unit.
The rise of the Cherokee state in the mid-1700’s was an instance
of independent face-to-face communities joining voluntarily. Prob-
ably the rise of the earliest states in the Mesopotamian area was
another instance. Possibly, the remaining classical first states in
the Near East and Middle and South America were other instances.
This paper offers the tentative suggestion that ail naive states
which have arisen through the voluntary political merging of face-to-
face communities began from one kind of village political organization
and followed a common developmental career. This class of instances
of state formation will here be called “Mesopotamian.” The paper
modifies and extends a hypothesis presented by Adams (1956).
127
128 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
In sum, I suggest a gross typology of the rise of states:
1. States arise out of the breakup of other states.
2. States arise ‘“‘naively’”’ from societies not states, in three ways:
a. Through conquest,
b. When ranking segments gain crucial monopolies,
c. When face-to-face communities join voluntarily.
My thought is that all instances of ‘‘2c” might be found to follow a
common developmental sequence.
I tentatively suggest that such Mesopotamian-type careers of state
formation have always four features: First, the traditional village
political organization was of a certain type, to be described. Second,
these villages voluntarily join to become states only under duress
which they in common perceive. ‘Third, the earliest unification is
accomplished under priests. Fourth, soon new forms of coercion in
political relations must appear. This paper addresses these four
points in order.
(1) I turn to the form of traditional political organization of the
villages. My notion is that villages cannot become states through
voluntary unification unless the traditional village political organiza-
tion has all five of the characteristics which follow. First, the villagers
consciously distinguish between two categories of village tasks: those
tasks which are coordinated through coercive command, in contrast
to other tasks coordinated through voluntary consensus; in the latter
the major sanction is to withdraw affection, a loose and informal
ostracism. Second, the villagers sort themselves as personnel differ-
ently for the two sets of tasks; the total village is organized first one
way, then reorganized a second way according to the task at hand.
Third, the villagers raise different individuals to positions of leadership
in the two systems of personnel. Fourth, villagers select those two
kinds of leaders by their respective competences as demonstrated in
past performance; leadership is achieved, not ascribed by birth;
the salient required qualities are, for the tasks coordinated through
command, fearless and egocentric courage, and, for the tasks coor-
dinated through consensus, restrained sensitivity to nuances of
feeling in others. And fifth, the village offers a greater honor to those
restrained and sensitive persons who lead in those tasks which demand
voluntary consensus. All villages which begin the Mesopotamian
developmental career do so, I suggest, from this base.
Cherokee villagers consciously distinguished between two categories
of village tasks; and villagers organized themselves as personnel
differently when they attended the tasks in each category. Red
tasks—war, negotiation with foreignpowers, ball games—were coordi-
nated by command through a hierarchy of war ranks under the village
war chief. White tasks—ceremonials, councils, perhaps agricul-
No. 12] RISE OF THE CHEROKEE STATE—GEARING 129
ture—were coordinated by voluntary consensus which was created
through the influence of the old men in their respective clans, all
under the leadership of the village priest chief who was both the
symbol of village harmony and the major cause of that harmony.!
Jacobsen (1943) describes the precivilized Mesopotamian village by
inference from the social organization of the life of the gods as depicted
in the mythology of later civilized periods. The parallels between the
political organizations of the Cherokee village throughout the 18th
century and the precivilized Mesopotamian village are sufficient to
assign the two to a single class. The Cherokee structure for White
tasks was essentially the same as an analogous Mesopotamian village
structure, that is, the structure of general councils was virtually
identical. The Cherokee village priest-chief had a Mesopotamian
counterpart as suggested to Jacobsen by the god An (the father of
the gods). The Cherokee old men, organized as a body of elders,
had a counterpart suggested by the body of 50 senior gods. In
Mesopotamian councils, decisions were apparently reached by the
same semblance of unanimity as in Cherokee councils; the Cherokee
used magic to make their arguments irresistible while Mesopotamians
prayed for the same gift and admired the ability to be convincing;
the Cherokee brought themselves into the deferential frame of mind
appropriate to councils by holding councils in conjunction with
religious festivals, while Mesopotamians established precouncil
euphoria by drinking; Cherokee elders were the large influences
while the Mesopotamian elders ‘‘carried”’ the discussions; the Cherokee
had to rely on the voluntary deference of every villager while Mesopo-
tamians called discussions ‘‘asking one another”; adequate agreement
by a Cherokee was indicated by withholding further objections,
and in Mesopotamia silence was consent; the Cherokee priest-chief
(or his speaker) announced the group decision as did the Mesopo-
tamian counterpart. The implementation of decisions was alike:
the Cherokee were expected to abide by unanimous council decisions
and those who did not experienced the diffuse displeasure of the
whole village, while Mesopotamian decisions were followed by a
‘“‘promise,”’ probably a binding vow, by all present.
As with the Cherokee Red tasks, whenever a Mesopotamian village
faced a crisis situation, especially war, it temporarily delegated power
to a person selected to be “king” and the village was reorganized as
a hierarchy of command.
For both Cherokee and Mesopotamians, then, there seem to
have been two categories of village tasks. To accomplish the two
1 My article, ‘““The Structural Poses of 18th-Century Cherokee Villages” (1958), describes in brief detail
the two ways in which a village population organized itself for these two sets of tasks. Note that the Cher-
okee did not have moieties; the total village population organized itself in one manner for Red tasks, and
that same total population reorganized itself in a second manner for White tasks.
130 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
kinds of tasks, the total village population was organized and reor-
ganized as two systems of personnel. One system operated through a
chain of command with powers to punish, the other through a grada-
tion of influence with only the sanction of withdrawing affection. It
follows that the art of leadership was, in each system, very different.
Any Cherokee could rise to leadership in either system. ‘There were
no requirements that offices went to certain clans, and there was no
visible tendency for offices to be hereditary. Leaders seem to have
been selected purely on the basis of demonstrated competence. The
same individuals almost never became prominent in both systems.
They could have—the Red leadership fell to young men and the
White leadership fell to old men, so a man could have become prom-
inent in both systems at different points in his life. But almost none
did. In effect, the operation of the political system of a Cherokee
village selected for provenience two kinds of men with two kinds
of competence. A leader in red tasks rose in the war ranks through
success at war which included not only killing enemies but artful
operation within the hierarchal system of commanders and com-
manded. All young men were warriors, but the kind of man who
emerged at the top was egocentric, fearful, “mean.” By the village
at large, these men were given formal honors and sometimes material
rewards; but otherwise they were held at arms length, greeted
with suspicion and ambivalence. eee" oe = oe ee eee es 146
TH COMO Tiny eee nm A aH a eS NaN yi A Lg Se aes A ee 146
POICIC AOS amb OTN ee ere a ee ee eat 146
PSHE Ge G1 Tres eee eres OLY Na MR Ns eS ale NE ac ee a 147
The first stage: The “New Religion” of Handsome Lake_____________-- 147
The second stage: Christians and pagans_----_--.-.--..------.___-.-- 148
The third stage: The “Old Way’”’ of Handsome Lake--__--------_------ 150
Biblio parapet ee Ws ae ee a ah eae Cp eA fe ee a a ON ene 151
wo
Bio pe A = ae
Hr RN ge
CULTURAL COMPOSITION OF THE HANDSOME
LAKE RELIGION 3
By Antoony F. C. WALLACE
Unwersity of Pennsylvama and Eastern Pennsylvania Psychiatric
Institute
INTRODUCTION
In an earlier paper (Wallace, 1956 a) I presented a theory of the
origin of new religions. This theory, stated briefly, holds that new
religions begin as revitalization movements in demoralized social
eroups. They are characterized initially by intense emotional fervor
and reformist zeal; but if the formal objectives of the movement are
achieved, enthusiasm wanes and the new religion is routinized. In
complex cultures, the movement often is gradually segregated from
the administration of secular affairs and becomes a church. Even-
tually a reasonably steady state, a new sociocultural equilibrium, is
established, with religion relatively passively performing ideologically
supportive, psychotherapeutic, and structurally integrative functions.
This paper explores some of the implications, and inadequacies, of
this view of the matter. We shall be concerned with the gradual trans-
formation of a revitalization movement, the ‘“New Religion” of Hand-
some Lake, the Seneca prophet, into a routinized religion, the ‘Old
Way” of Handsome Lake, and with certain concomitant changes in
its cultural composition, in its meaning to Iroquois society, and in the
identity of its adherents. As we shall see, the life history of the Hand-
some Lake religion not only illustrates the old hypothesis that religions,
born as revolutionary solutions to pressing social problems, become in
their old age conservative, while the sacred texts remain relatively
unchanged; it also reveals the importance of religion as a means by
which the individual expresses identification with or rejection of vari-
ous social groups. In regard to this latter point, we shall find that the
details of pantheon, ritual, and myth may be of less significance to a
potential believer than the social identity of the religion; and that the
psychotherapeutic and socially integrative functions of a conservative
1 The research on which this paper is based was facilitated by a Faculty Research Fellowship from the
Social Science Research Council (1951-54). Research assistance was provided by Sheila C. Steen.
143
144 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
religion are very different from those of a new, revolutionary religion.
Methodologically, we shall proceed by dividing our life history into
three stages: first, the mission of Handsome Lake, 1799-1815; second,
the struggle between the “Christians” and the “pagans,” from
Handsome Lake’s death to about 1850; and third, the routinization of
the religion, from about 1850 to the present. In the examination of
each stage, we shall classify certain major doctrinal themes in various
areas of culture with regard to their sociocultural functions during the
period concerned. The themes will be taken from Parker’s edition of
the Code of Handsome Lake (Parker, 1913), from the brief versions
given by Lewis Henry Morgan (1901), and from several Quaker jour-
nals and other early documents which record the Code during its first
formulation by Handsome Lake himself. Each theme is essentially
a value: a statement of a pattern of behavior or experience which is
defined as a desirable or an undesirable state of affairs. Taken all
together, the set of such value statements, which is the Code of Hand-
some Lake, constitutes a blueprint of the ideal society, and of the ideal
life in that society, to which adherents of his religion subscribe. We
shall regard the blueprint as, for the most part, a constant throughout
the life history of the religion; its interpretation, meaning, and function
vary while its form remains approximately the same.”
AN IROQUOIS UTOPIA: HANDSOME LAKE’S VALUE-
THEMES
The Code of Handsome Lake, as recorded by Parker, holds a mis-
cellany of utterances attributed to Handsome Lake: accounts of vi-
sions, remarks on problems of the day, commentaries on manners and
customs, personal history. The values which these utterances express
may be broadly classified into seven areas: vices; obligations of kin-
ship; responsibilities to the community; political probity; right reli-
gious belief and practice; desirable economic activities; and education.
VICES
Handsome Lake at the beginning of his mission, after the first reve-
lations, laid heavy emphasis on what he alluded to as the “four words”’
that ‘‘tell a great story of wrong’: drunkenness, witchcraft, magical
2Tt is beyond the scope of this paper to document the implication that the Code edited by Parker in 1913 is
substantially the same text as the verbal utterances of Handsome Lake between 1799 and 1815. The writer’s
data, from early records, do reveal a remarkable faithfulness in the later versions to their originals: a faith-
fulness which may depend in part on the fact that written versions were available from early times, and in
part from the customary Iroquois demand for verbatim recall by speakers. On the other hand, of course,
different “‘speakers’’ of the Code repeat more or less different versions; various errors, omissions, and distor-
tions have undoubtedly crept in; and the process of translation into English (the language of the texts cited)
adds further uncertainty. Nevertheless, the themes themselves seem to be stable in all versions which I
have seen.
No. 14] HANDSOME LAKE RELIGION—WALLACE 145
love charms and “‘poisons,” and abortion. To liquor, the tool of the
Evil Spirit, he later ascribed miscellaneous derivative evils: insanity,
quarreling, nudity, vandalism, laziness, depopulation, murder, acci-
dental death, and the blighting of normal growth and development in
man and in nature. Elsewhere Handsome Lake inveighed against a
multitude of additional evils, some of them the negatives of more
positive virtues mentioned below, and others more easily listed as
vices: wife-beating, marital quarreling, sexual promiscuity, cardplay-
ing, playing the fiddle, stinginess, failmg to keep promises, not believ-
ing in kiwi: yo: h, nonrepentance for sin, and, again, murder. Hand-
some Lake was very much awed by the power of sin: sin, indeed, was
rotting away the physical foundations of the earth and would, if un-
checked by repentance, hasten an early (three generations or so hence)
and apocalyptic end of the world.
RELIGIOUS BELIEF AND PRACTICE
We need not here describe in detail the many injunctions of Hand-
some Lake concerning religious belief and practice. They may be
summarized by saying that they involved an elaboration of the tradi-
tional cosmology and pantheon, with the addition of some new ele-
ments: a heaven and hell, the “four angels,”’ a personal creator, a devil
with horns, tail, and cloven hoof, and an imminent end of the world;
restrictions on the private functions of the “‘secret’’ medicine societies;
emphasis on the particular value of four already-existing sacred rituals;
and a variety of recommendations for religious organization, ritual,
and belief, many of which simply endorse traditional practices (for
instance, he advised the people to keep up the Midwinter Ceremony).
OBLIGATIONS OF KINSHIP
Handsome Lake repeatedly emphasized the importance of mutual
kindness, supportiveness, fidelity, and agreement in the marital rela-
tionship. He advised childless couples to adopt children of the wife’s
sister and to treat them as if they were their natural children. Chil-
dren should be punished lightly for disobedience, by dunking them in
water. Grandparents should be cared for by their grandchildren.
As well as may be judged from the translation, the Code placed almost
exclusive emphasis on kinship obligations within the nuclear family,
and stressed the responsibility of the husband to be the economic
prime mover and of the wife to be the emotional rudder, as it were, of
the domestic bark. Thus the wife was not to be jealous of her hus-
band’s love for their child, and her mother was not to interfere in her
relations with her husband. ‘The matrilineal Iroquoian limeage and
sib system, so heavily emphasized by reconstruction-oriented ethnolo-
gists like Morgan and Hewitt, was by Handsome Lake ignored. The
146 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
emphasis was on the nuclear family with the husband and wife re-
sponsible to it, i.e., to each other, their children, and their progenitors,
rather than to lineage and sib kin.
COMMUNITY RESPONSIBILITY
Handsome Lake stated a number of values which relate generally to
the notion of a well-ordered community. Gossip (by women), boast-
ing (by men), petty thievery, and sexual promiscuity were held up as
socially destructive evils. Household hospitality, the entertainment
of children playing near the house, and the care and adoption of waifs
were held up as virtues. Many of the values classified under other
headings also evidently relate to community order. On other occa-
sions, in council, Handsome Lake spoke of the importance of unanimity
of opinion.
ECONOMY
The securing and production of foodstuffs was consistently referred
to as a male responsibility. Men should share the fruits of the chase;
men should work together in collective ‘‘bees’’; and men should emu-
late three practices of the white people: the cultivation of the earth,
the building of timber houses, and the keeping of horses, cattle, and
swine. ‘These practices were morally justifiable provided they were not
undertaken out of masculine pride, but for the sake of the man’s fam-
ily (especially as an insurance against his death). In animal husbandry,
furthermore, care must be taken not to overwork the animals. The
economic recommendations, largely directed toward men and involv-
ing the assimilation of white culture, were not balanced by reference
to the traditional feminine horticultural role.
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION
Reflections on political organization were heterogeneous. Hand-
some Lake was concerned with the lack of unanimity among the lead-
ers of the people, with their quarreling and mutual criticism, their
moral weakness in selling tribal lands to the whites, and their division
into proassimuation (Christian) and antiassimilation (pagan) factions.
tie reassured the people that the whites would never exterminate the
Troquois, that George Washington had set aside their reservations for
an independent people, and that the Iroquois could and should be
neutral in quarrels (such as the War of 1812) among the whites. There
was no definite allusion to the recent emigration of Joseph Brant and
his followers to Canada. The use of violence to extort conformity in
behavior was deplored: witches should not be whipped to death (this
despite Handsome Lake’s early career as a witch hunter), and the
white man’s tools of punishment—the whip, the handcuffs, the hang-
No. 14] HANDSOME LAKE RELIGION—-WALLACE 147
man’s rope, and the prison—were reserved for the tormentor of the
wicked in the next world.
EDUCATION
Although Christianity was not for Indians (and most available
teachers were missionaries), it was necessary for the Iroquois to know
the ways of the surrounding whites in order to deal with them. Hand-
some Lake’s compromise was to suggest that two students be appointed
from each of the Six Nations to study in white schools. ‘This in effect
admitted the technological value of white education but recognized
the danger that its pursuit might lead to a white rather than an
Indian self-identification in the educated.
THE FIRST STAGE: THE “NEW RELIGION” OF HANDSOME
LAKE
Viewed within the context of Iroquois society of the period 1799 to
1815, when Handsome Lake was preaching, we can make several direct
statements concerning the cultural composition of his Code. First
of all, much of traditional Iroquois culture is, in itself, explicitly neither
advocated nor rejected by the Code: it is ignored. Presumably this
implies a sort of conditional acceptance of the nonmentioned aspects
of traditional Iroquois culture: the condition being that if such aspects
were to conflict with the realization of the formally asserted values,
they would be expendable. Secondly, identification with Iroquois
as opposed to white society is in several contexts asserted as a value,
but this matter of identification is not a preeminent concern, and it
does not generalize into an aggressive type of nativism. Third, white
culture is viewed selectively: certain elements of white culture are
consciously recommended, particularly economic customs and educa-
tion, but with due regard for their proper integration into an Indian
society (e.g., without pride, cruelty to animals, or white identification
by the majority). Other white culture traits are proscribed and either
attributed to the Evil Spirit (the Tormentor) or are defined as vices:
whiskey, violins, cards, whips, handcuffs, the hangman’s rope, and pris-
ons.
* AK;
2 pot
THE IROQUOIS FORTUNETELLERS AND THEIR
CONSERVATIVE INFLUENCE
By ANNEMARIE SHIMONY
Mt. Holyoke College
A number of traditional institutions remain important in the life
of the conservative Iroquois at Six Nations Reserve, among them the
calendric observances of the Longhouse, the Handsome Lake religion,
and the system of hereditary chieftainship. But no institutionalized
aspect of culture so dominates his thought and actions as does the
complex concerning personal health. ‘Health,’ as it is currently
conceived at Six Nations, includes not only physical well-being, but
also the maintenance of life, mental ease, and good luck. Each
person believes that these are constantly threatened and that he must
therefore determine the nature of the threat, engage in various pre-
cautions, and take countermeasures throughout his lifetime. Indeed,
the belief that his health is constantly endangered is so central a tenet
of the life view of the modern Longhouse member that overtly and
covertly it motivates much of his behavior and provides the sanctions
for retaining others of the conservative institutions.
A common method of determining the etiology and cure of a
disease is to consult a fortuneteller or clairvoyant. These are individ-
uals who claim to be able to fathom the cause of diseases—whether
due to physiological disorder, neglected cultural prescriptions, hunting
charms, or witchcraft—and who incidentally, but importantly,
prescribe cures. Both sexes may practice fortunetelling, and there
are no particular prerequisites for the profession, though an individual
who is born with a caul and who then takes up fortunetelling is
antecedently well qualified. Primarily it is believed that the ability
to tell fortunes (i.e., to diagnose diseases and prescribe their cures)
is an inalienable endowment from the Great Creator, just as is the
ability to speak or sing, although there are instances in which a fortune-
teller is said to have learned his art from an “old man” or
“old woman.” Also, if one has the initial gift, there is no reason why
one may not add to one’s knowledge, and some informants think that
fortunetellers actually ‘‘practice.”? There are strong sanctions against
attempting fortunetelling without being gifted, and if one asks an
207
208 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
average person whether he had ever considered telling fortunes, he
looks shocked and says that he does not have the gift and that it is
“too dangerous to fool around with.”
Some of the practitioners are more highly regarded than their
colleagues, and the Longhouse population distinguishes critically
among the currently practicing fortunetellers. Patients claim that
they can tell “real fortunetellers from fakes’”’ and that they can also
appraise their effectiveness. With time each fortuneteller acquires
a reputation, as do the herbal doctors, and he becomes renowned either
for overall competence or for a particular line of investigation, such as
interpreting dreams, identifying witches who are causing a malady,
or remembering “unsatisfied” rituals or ritual articles. Since many
of the patients’ complaints are psychosomatic, the reputation of a
fortuneteller can in fact help to effect a cure, which in turn augments
the reputation.
The procedure of having one’s fortune told is extremely simple.
The patient or his emissary (in case the patient himself is incapacitated
or otherwise unable to go) visits the home of the fortuneteller, unan-
nounced and usually in secret, at any time of the day. He enters,
informs the fortuneteller of his Indian name, offers him Indian
tobacco, and states his problem in as much detail as desirable, giving
circumstances, particulars of previous treatments, and other
information. He then sits down and awaits an answer. The fees,
aside from the Indian tobacco, usually run between 25 and 50 cents,
but the medicines which the fortunetellers often obligingly prescribe
as essential to recovery must be bought from them for up to $60.
The general pattern of diagnosis and prescription is quite loose,
and each fortuneteller has his own style, so that the profession may
correctly be described as an art. Thus, the technique of diagnosis
usually involves tea, cards, dreams, or scrying, but the individual
fortuneteller may choose to employ any one or a combination of these.
There are, furthermore, a few patterned responses to characteristic
symptoms, such as False-Face Rites for facial paralysis, red False-Face
Rites for nosebleeding, Otter Rites for sore red eyes, Bear Rites for
hysteria involving spitting or clambering along the walls, making
friends for “lonely” children, snowsnake or ball games for sore legs,
Little Water for internal injuries or broken bones, etc.; yet in essence
each consultation with a fortuneteller is a special case. The fortune-
teller is told the symptoms, and he prescribes measures which he
considers appropriate, by virtue of his own special gift or knowledge.
If the symptoms unequivocally point to a standard cure, such as the
ones mentioned, the fortuneteller usually prescribes the expected
remedy, but even then he is at liberty to explain that for the particular
client and under the particular circumstances, a different cure would
No. 20] IROQUOIS FORTUNETELLERS—SHIMONY 209
be preferable. In other words, the institution of fortunetelling is
today a highly unstructured and individualistic one.
There are, however, a few generalizations which seem to charac-
terize the institution of fortunetelling. First of all, the fortunetellers
generally conceive of themselves as proponents of the “Indian” cul-
ture, and therefore their prescriptions are almost always in terms of
elements taken from the traditional culture. Secondly, fortunetellers
themselves are well versed in the mores of the Longhouse society, and
they make diagnoses and prescribe cures which seem reasonable and
plausible to the Longhouse population. Thus, if a person complains
of a minor ailment, the fortuneteller is apt to ‘see’? a minor remedy
rather than a particular causative agent. If the ailment is lingering
and the client obviously very much concerned, the fortuneteller will
most probably ‘‘see’’ a definite reason (a neglected medicine society
feast; an unsatisfied, “hungry”? member of the family who had died
long ago but failed to receive proper treatment at the 10-day feast;
a mask which was not given tobacco; a broken taboo, such as contact
with a menstruating woman while preparing an herbal tea; etc.) and
will prescribe a more complicated and expensive remedy. In short,
he endeavors ‘‘to make the punishment fit the crime.”’ Thirdly, the
fortuneteller tries to appraise the personal background and predica
ment of his patient (and some of the old fortunetellers have good
memories) and suggest, often by indirection, that definite events in
the family of the patient have caused the difficulty. The patient
thinks about the diagnosis and is indeed reminded of the suggested
event. Also, a fortuneteller would never, or only under such extreme
conditions as repeated witchcraft, prescribe a cure which is economi-
cally completely out of the reach of the patient. Such a prescription
would not seem plausible to the patient and would not be considered
good fortunetelling, thus tending to discredit the specialist. Fortune-
teller B—, for example, is accused of prescribing expensive feasts ‘‘be-
cause he likes to eat good things,” and his business has fallen off
sharply.
Finally, the method of the fortuneteller seems to draw heavily upon
the principles of analogy, reenactment, and association. For example,
Y— “wriggled like a fish with pain” when he had sciatica, and the
fortuneteller prescribed that he have an Otter Feast, for there one
eats fish, and furthermore the otter is in constant motion like the
patient. When Z— dreamed of lines of caskets and skeletons who
all claimed to be hungry, a Dead Feast was immediately prescribed
to feed the dead. And when K— (who was undoubtedly hungry)
dreamed of a white chicken, the fortuneteller prescribed an Hagle
Dance, since an Eagle Dance involves the use of a white chicken.
210 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
The cure prescribed by the fortuneteller may be any standard
ritual song, dance, game, feast, medicine society rite, or one of the
four sacred rites, and he may prescibe more than one of these. Also
he may prescribe herbal medicine, friendship formation, a Tutelo cere-
mony, or the Little Water medicine, or he may even invent a new
procedure which he believes appropriate to the situation, including the
prescription of ‘‘white man’s medicine.”’ The reasons for choosing the
particular remedy, aside from conformance to the few generalizations
observed above, are purely psychological and idiosyncratic. Thus,
there is not at Six Nations today a well-established body of specific
Indian cures for specific ailments, as has been suggested in the litera-
ture;! at most there are correlations between cures and a few impor-
tant symptoms, and even these are not invariable.2, The same must
be said for causes of diseases and ill luck; except when the trouble is
of the sort generally acknowledged to fall within the domain of a medi-
cine society, it is at the discretion of the fortuneteller to cite the cause.
If the cure prescribed has a ritual character, the patient is obligated
for the remainder of his life to repeat the rite at intervals of 1 to 3
years, for otherwise he will run the risk either of a recurrent attack
of the disease or of a new disease. This is particularly true if the
prescription was to initiate the patient into a medicine society.
Once initiated and once cured, the patient must reciprocate to the
tutelary or Spirit Force of the society out of thankfulness for his
initial cure, and he must also observe the rules of the society, in
order to avoid “hurting the feelings” of the society tutelaries or arti-
facts. It is easy to see how an individual might easily acquire a large
number of ritual obligations of this type, and how one might lead to
involvement in another. Consequently, a fortuneteller who ‘‘digs up
the past” too avidly (i.e., finds many unsatisfied rituals in the family
of the patient) is rather feared, since no one enjoys assuming more
obligations than absolutely necessary.
Since the population is for many reasons generally hypochondriac,
and since consultation with the fortuneteller is often a last desperate
measure, a good fortuneteller is soon believed indispensable and is
highly respected for his specialty. Also, the fact that he operates by
virtue of a supernatural gift or highly specialized knowledge inexpli-
cable to the uninitiated, and has frequent contact with malevolent
1K.g., F. G. Speck, “Midwinter Rites of the Cayuga Long House.” Philadelphia. 1949.
2 This statement on the relation between specific ailment and cure is in need of support. Apparently
most tribes have specific herbs for specific ailments—the Papago, Ottawa, Cherokee (see Fogelson, this bulle-
tin, p.217). Since Iroquoian investigators report connections between rite and disease, and since Mrs. Shimony
found this no longer operative, there must be a reason for this difference in findings.—G.P.K. My less inten-
sive work on this topic among the Seneca at Cattaraugus and Allegany tends to support Mrs. Shimony’s as-
sertion. Her phrase ‘‘well-established body’’ should be noted; compared to the situation among the Semi-
nole, which I know at first hand, and my impression from the literature on other Eastern tribes, modern
Iroquois diagnosis and treatment are relatively variable and unsystematized.—W.C.S.
No. 20] IROQUOIS FORTUNETELLERS—SHIMONY 211
forces, puts him in a position of particular authority. It would be
presumptuous indeed, if not ‘‘dangerous,” to doubt and ignore his
prescriptions. ‘‘A fortuneteller told me to do X”’ is the unquestioned
justification for doing X. For these reasons the fortuneteller today
has a unique and important position in the Longhouse culture, and
he is able to direct a large segment of the lives of the individual mem-
bers. His prescriptions always involve elements from the ‘Indian’’
(Longhouse) culture, and even though he sometimes introduces inno-
vations, these are always variations of standard patterns. Conse-
quently, the overall influence of the fortunetellers is strongly conserv-
ative, and, indeed, more than any other personnel they maintain the
conservatism of the Reserve.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 21. Change, Persistence, and Accommodation in Cherokee
Medico-Magica! Beliefs
By RAYMOND D. FOGELSON
213
i os
) #0. marlaag ee
TF 0 aE
ath
Fou hut
CHANGE, PERSISTENCE, AND ACCOMMODATION
IN CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS!
By Raymonp D. FoGrison
University of Pennsylvania
The acculturation of the Eastern Cherokee must be considered
atypical when compared to the general model of acculturation for
most North American Indian groups. Continuous first-hand contact
with Euro-American culture increased in intensity, except for brief
periods of war, during the century prior to the forced removal to the
Indian Territory in 1838. During this period, a loose confederation
of scattered villages adhering to an aboriginal culture was rapidly
transformed into a cohesive nation which was viewed by others, and
viewed itself, as civilized. A few hundred Cherokee of conservative
background, who had been marginal to the efflorescence that had taken
place in the southern part of their nation, escaped the general removal
and remained behind in the wilderness of the Great Smoky Mountains.
This group, ancestral to the present Eastern Cherokee, was left to
reassemble the pieces of a broken culture. The Eastern Band remained
fairly isolated from the main currents of white civilization until the
early years of the 20th century, when their encapsulation began to be
penetrated by modern communication. This geographic isolation
allowed the stabilization of a new cultural Gestalt comprised of rem-
nants of the older Cherokee culture now blended into a general moun-
tain-white pattern. Thus, while acculturation is taking place at a
rapid pace today among the Eastern Cherokee, for the most part,
the most realistic baseline from which to plot current culture change
is the period of cultural resynthesis that occurred during the mid-19th
century.”
1 Fieldwork was carried out during the summers of 1957 and 1958 under the auspices of the Cross-Cultural]
Laboratory of the Institute for Research in Social Science, University of North Carolina: John Gulick, director.
The writer wishes to offer grateful acknowledgment to the Department of Anthropology, Univ. of Pennsyl-
vania, for financial assistance. The writer also wishes to express his indebtedness to John Atkins, Dr. A. I.
Hallowell, Charles Holzinger, Paul Kutsche, Robert Thomas, Dr. A. F. C. Wallace, and John Witthoft for
helpful advice and criticism.
3 This period would seem to correspond to the onset of what Witthoft (this volume, pp. 74-76) has termed
‘Reservation culture.’’
215
216 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
One of the aspects of Cherokee culture that has been most resis-
tant to change is the medico-magical practices of the conjuror. While
it is generally assumed that the more covert aspects of culture embed-
ded in a people’s belief system are less likely to change than overt
items are, such as material culture, the survival of Cherokee medico-
magical beliefs and practices has been aided by a special mechanism—
the Sequoyah syllabary. Although Sequoyah’s invention (1821) was
popularly hailed as a tool of “‘progress’’ enabling the Cherokee to pub-
lish their own newspaper, laws, and constitution, as well as to translate
the Bible, hymnals, and other religious tracts, the syllabary was also
a powerful instrument for cultural retention. The conjuror was now
able to transcribe into his notebook sacred formulas and other lore
that had formerly been dependent on oral transmission (Mooney,
1891, p. 308).
In aboriginal times, Cherokee medico-magical beliefs were mediated
through a stratified priestly organization. With the nearly complete
conversion of the Nation to Christianity, nominally at least, during the
first third of the 19th century, conjurors became the repositories of
the remaining fragments of what was once a quite complex aborignal
religious system. In response to the passing of the older religion and
the breakup of the priestly societies, individual practitioners tended
to focus their attention on more secular matters, such as curing, sor-
cery, and hunting-fishing and agricultural magic.
Cherokee medical and magical practices were probably rather prag-
matic and flexible prior to the Removal. If a new herbal remedy was
discovered or a new ceremony devised, it was probably easily incorpo-
rated into the conjuror’s repertory. While many American Indian
groups had definite notions of supernatural power in their ritual and
vision quests, a clearly defined power concept was not so conspicuous
among the Cherokee. Throughout their history, there was a decided
disinclination to set oneself above one’s fellows, and the presence of
prophets was a rare phenomenon.? Ceremonialism and, in fact,
much of Cherokee personality, seems oriented toward harmony with
nature through knowledge and control, rather than through blind
supplication (Thomas, MS., 1958).
This pragmatic outlook can be clearly seen in a myth accounting
for the origin of disease and medicine. According to the myth, man
once lived in harmony with the rest of creation, and disease was un-
known. Because of man’s inhumanity to the other living creatures
through both design and carelessness, each animal group held a sepa-
rate council and decided to inflict on mankind a different disease.
3 The Redbird Smith movement differs from the typical prophet-led revitalization movement, as Thomas
(this volume, pp. 165-166) has pointed out. The disinclination to set oneself above one’s fellows has been
noted by Gearing (MS., 1956) in 18th-century Cherokee political behavior.
No. 21] CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS—FOGELSON 217
The plant kingdom took pity on man and promised assistance in
counteracting the animal-sent evils (Mooney, 1900, pp. 250-252).
The myth implies that there is a plant antidote for every disease;
through knowledge one is able to select the appropriate remedy. Most
native medical practitioners are able to identify as many as two hun-
dred different plant species and varieties. However, if the emergency
is sufficiently grave, one need not be a specialist, for it is said that
any man can walk into a field and the appropriate plant will reveal
itself by nodding.
Medico-magical beliefs and practices seem to have assumed a more
rigid, doctrinaire quality among the surviving Hastern Cherokee. The
Removal separated the remaining Cherokee from most of the crea-
tive and spiritual leadership of the Nation. Among the 18,000 or so
who emigrated West were most of the highly esteemed medicine men,
as well as other guardians and interpreters of traditional belief. The
shock of removal and the separation from the main body of their
Nation, eventuated in some culture loss, but also resulted in a more
compulsive adherence to those items of medico-magical belief which
remained.
The syllabary enabled the Eastern Cherokee to set down and retain
much esoteric knowledge, but this new device seems to have affected
medical and magical practices by discouraging some of the flexible
empiricism hypothesized for the earlier conjuring. Writing down
prayers, incantations, and formulas gave these items a certain tan-
gibility that grew into reverence. The conjuror’s notebook became
imbued with some of the same sacredness surrounding the Christian
Bible. The antiquity and conservative nature of the formulas are
well verified by the many now unintelligible archaic expressions,
many of which were encountered by Mooney as early as 1887 (1891,
p. 309). Also, conjurors feel that a formula must be recited perfectly
or the ceremony will be ineffective; slips of the tongue are thought to
be caused by the machinations of a rival. Formulas are jealously
guarded, and often the titles of more important ones are disguised or
transcribed in an idiosyncratic shorthand, lest the books fall mto the
wrong hands. These factors, plus the relative isolation and absence
of acculturative stimuli during most of the 19th century, tended to
make conjuring practices tradition bound and highly stylized. Only
with the intensive culture contact of the past 25 years have Cherokee
medico-magical practices begun to undergo major accommodative
modifications necessary for limited survival in a changing society.
The lines of medico-magical specialization are not tightly drawn,
but some general distinctions can be made. Conjuring has become
almost a male specialty, although women specialists have been known
in the past, and even today a few of the older women know many herb-
218 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
al remedies and a few ceremonies. None of the current practitioners
are full-time specialists, and all derive their principal incomes from
other sources. It is important to distinguish herbalists from con-
jurors. The herbalist may prescribe, dispense, or administer simples,
but his treatment is rarely accompanied by aceremony. Since knowl-
edge of herbal remedies diffused widely throughout the population,
the distinction between the laity and a herbalist rests mainly on a
quantitative basis. A conjuror, in contrast, relies on a combination
of simples and ceremony in his curing procedures.
To become a conjuror, one must possess a thorough knowledge of
plants and competence in the Sequoyah syllabary. At present,
with less than 10 percent of the population literate in their own lan-
guage, this latter prerequisite assumes increased importance in the
selection of conjurors. In addition, one must gain the confidence of
an older practitioner and persuade him to give instruction. Con-
jurors are not eager to part with their knowledge, so that the disciple
must possess special personal qualifications and aptitude. Informa-
tion is imparted in Socratic fashion, and no tuition is expected.
Instruction usually begins with the recognition of plants and their
properties, soon proceeds to the commoner formulas, and ends with
ceremonies for sorcery, provided the candidate shows promise of not
abusing such knowledge (Mooney and Olbrechts, 1932, p. 100).
The stock-in-trade of a conjuror is his body of formulas, which are
gradually obtained throughout his lifetime by inheritance, borrowing,
trading, or purchase.
Some hint of a previous age-grading among practitioners still per-
sists. Although one may receive some instruction as a young adult
and practice on a modest scale, such activities are generally kept
secret. If you become boastful and arrogant, another older and
more knowing conjuror may ‘spoil’ your work. After about 55 years
of age, “‘when your hair gets gray,” a conjuror is less afraid of censure
and can declare himself more openly. It is reasoned that when your
hair has turned gray, you have ‘‘proved yourself and followed what
they said, and nobody can walk over you or tear up your ceremonies
and ruin things.’”’? Even when one has passed this crisis, boastfulness
is still devalued. One should not set himself above others and should
never promise that he can do more than try to “lift up” his patient.
Within the general area of conjuring, there are many subspecial-
izations. For instance, some practitioners are noted for their ability
to cure gastric illnesses, while others are known to specialize in “‘Dal-
Ani” (‘‘yellowness,’’ usually manifested around the eyes) dis-
eases. Other nonmedical specialties include such things as ball game
conjuring, love magic, divination for lost objects, and many others.
The late Will West Long, despite his profound philosophic knowledge
No. 21] CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS—FOGELSON 219
of conjuring, had little success in curing illnesses (Witthoft, 1948, p.
358). One of my informants explains Will’s failure as an example of
knowing too much and not concentrating enough on any one specialty.
Today’s conjurors are not organized into any sort of society. Each
plies his craft secretly and alone. Relations between conjurors tend
to be very circumspect and abrupt. Very seldom does one conjuror
have a good word to say about another. While no practitioner will
openly admit to practicing sorcery, he is quick to attribute such skills
to arival. Occasionally conjurors will trade formulas, but only after
each has felt the other out, and an equitable exchange has been
negotiated. Rivalry becomes most intense during the Indian ball
games which are felt to be primarily contests between rival conjurors
with the players as mere pawns.
The conjuror’s clientele are drawn for the most part from the con-
servative segment of the population. Since the building of a modern
agency hospital a number of years ago, the conjuror’s curing services
are less in demand than previously. Many Cherokee still have faith
in native medicine and hire a practitioner while, at the same time,
going to the hospital to insure receiving help from one quarter or the
other. The opening of the Great Smoky National Park brought many
tourists to the reservation. Among some of these tourists, a belief
in the efficacy of Indian medicine persists from frontier days, when
Indian medicine was not very inferior to that practiced by whites.
A few of these tourists seek out conjurors for medical advice. More
often than not their problems concern cases considered incurable by
white medicine, as spastic children, sterility, and congenital defects.
A few conjurors have traveled far from the reservation at the invita-
tion of white clients. One man has a regular circuit of white chents
whom he visits, sometimes for a few months at a time.
Mooney states that formerly conjurors received a deerskin or a
pair of moccasins for their services, but that in 1887, a quantity of
cloth, a garment, or a handkerchief became media of exchange (Mooney,
1891, p. 337). Cloth was regarded not as pay, but rather as a
necessary instrument in extracting the disease spirit. Today the
donation of cloth for use in ceremonies still continues but is slowly
giving way to monetary remuneration. It was formerly thought that
receiving money would dissipate the conjuror’s skills. The conjurors
make a slight concession to tradition by not demanding payment or
setting any fixed fee. Instead, the conjuror accepts whatever sum
the client feels his work is worth and considers the payment as a
gratuity.
As far as can be ascertained, all of today’s conjurors consider them-
selves to be good Christians and feel that their work is completely
consistent with Christian doctrine. The importance of faith and the
536135—61——15
220 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
power of prayer are fully recognized by the conjuror. According to
one informant:
When I conjure, I go by the word of God . . . In ceremonies, I use the name
of the Lord. When somebody’s sick, you take him to the creek, wash his face by
dipping with your hand, and wet his breast by the heart. It’s like the spirit gives
strength, like Baptism. Hecanfeelit. If somebody’s lost, it’s up to the Creator
to point the way. Sort oflikein prayer. If it wasn’t in the power of the Creator,
you couldn’t make anything move...
Here, the ancient Cherokee rite of ‘going to the water’ is neatly
reconciled with Christianity. Another statement by a different in-
formant emphasizes the conjuror’s belief in a heavenly power superior
to his own:
You can’t overpower the Lord. If I fail, it means [the patient is] too far gone—
already on that receiving line that’s ready to be called away. If a grass ain’t
meant to help somebody, it will wither like frost before your eyes.
The close rapport between Christianity and conjuring does not
seem to be a recent event, since much of Mooney’s best material
came from persons who combined the profession of native doctor
with Sunday school preacher, as “‘Anali’”’ (the Rev. Black Fox, Esq.).
The local brand of Christianity in which faith healing plays a promi-
nent part has also helped to strengthen the bond between the two
systems of thought.
To recapitulate, the written formulas are the core of Cherokee
medico-magical beliefs and help maintain continuity with the past.
It is interesting to note that while a great many written prayers and
instructions survive verbatim, the interpretation of these formulas
and some of the underlying assumptions of the Cherokee theory of
disease have undergone some modification. The writer, in 1958,
collected a formula identical in translation to one published by
Mooney (1891, pp. 353-355). Mooney’s informant said that the
formula was used for frightened children, ‘‘when something is causing
something to eat them.” In the 1958 version, the formula is em-
ployed when ‘‘anyone takes faint or when his heart stops,’’ without
specific reference to children. The formula successively mentions
and banishes a screech owl, a hoot owl, a rabbit, and a mountain
sprite (one of the ‘“‘Little People’). Mooney explains that the disease
is caused by these four disease spirits literally gnawing the vitals of
the patient. The interpretation of a present-day conjuror differs
markedly: the cause of the disease is a weak heart or “high pressure
blood.” ‘The specific spirits are chosen because they are frightening—
especially the rabbit who, when touched, ‘jumps up and scares you.”
Nowhere in the later interpretation is there any notion of evil disease
No. 21] CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS—FOGELSON Zoi
spirits gnawing at the patient’s vitals, but the disease cause is given
a western-sounding explanation.
The incomplete assimilation of white medical beliefs into the Cher-
okee system can be illustrated by many other examples. The dis-
eases mentioned in some formulas are now simply believed to be
colds caught after gettmg wet. Sore throats are said to be caused by
an excess of “frame” (phlegm). The ‘“‘dal&ni’” diseases are now at-
tributed to the actions of the “goldstones” (gallstones). In some
instances, the older Cherokee belief and modern white disease theory
show some accidental correspondence and provide reinforcement for
the Cherokee belief. The Cherokee anticipated the microbe theory
in their notion that swellings were caused by minute microorganisms,
“voluntary worms” (“‘tsgaya’’), which decided to hold a subcutaneous
council (Mooney, 1891, p. 361).
Among conservative Cherokee, some opposition to white medicine
still persists. In the historic past, the Cherokee felt that epidemics
were special diseases invented by Europeans to exterminate the In-
dian. Cherokee medicine was ineffective and, in some cases, as with
smallpox, detrimental in treating these diseases. Possibly as a result,
the Cherokee developed a belief in the ethnospecificity of disease and
treatment. White medicine might work for whites but was no good
for Indians. This notion seems to have been generalized along tribal
lines also, for one of the current practitioners is accused of having
learned his medicine from some Dakota Indians during World War
II, and it is thought that Dakota medicine was not meant for Chero-
kee. Some of this provincialism has broken down recently, and most
conjurors grudgingly admit the hospital has superior techniques for
treating some diseases. However, the native practitioners are quick
to find fault with the hospital and can cite numerous instances in
which the hospital ‘gave up” on illnesses which were later success-
fully treated by native doctors.
The conflict between Cherokee and white medical theory can be
illustrated by a specific example. In the words of one informant:
Kidney trouble hurts Indians. Something juicy on the vine like a peach or a
watermelon, the Indian doctor says no [i.e. forbids a person with a kidney disorder
to eat such fruit]. Doctors here in the hospital give orange juice and grapefruit,
and it makes you worse—hurts. ... Anything that swells up, you shouldn’t
take juice, only something dry or heavy ....
The taboo on juicy foods is also invoked in cases of slow-healing sores.
Implicit in this and most other Cherokee medico-magical beliefs is an
underlying principle of natural analogy, in this case the idea of de-
hydration and absorption, with no appreciation for the healthful
effects of vitamin C.
229 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
In general, the impact of Western medicine on Cherokee theory
and practice can be seen to involve partial assimilation, the accen-
tuation of differences where the two theories are irreconcilable, and an
overall feeling that the two systems are complementary, rather than
fundamentally contradictory.
The remainder of this report will survey briefly current change,
persistence, and accommodation in the nonmedical functions of the
conjuror.
Hunting and fishing magic were formerly of considerable importance
to the Cherokee, but now, with the disappearance of many game
animals, much hunting and fishing lore has been forgotten. In the
past, elaborate ritual and dancing frequently preceded and followed
the hunt. Formulas were recited and imitative masks of the pursued
animals were employed for the prehunt ceremonies, as well as for the
actual stalking (Speck and Broom, 1951, pp. 84-96). Mooney was
able to collect only four hunting formulas and one fishing formula
during his stay among the Eastern Cherokee in 1887 (Mooney, 1891,
pp. 369-375). Olbrechts has noted that in the past bear-hunting
songs sometimes were purchased for as much as $5 (Mooney and
Olbrechts, 1932, p. 153), but during the stay of Speck and Broom
(circa 1937) owners of hunting formulas did not consider them ‘‘worth
holding as personal, secret property”? (Speck and Broom, 1951, p.
95). Today no hunting or fishing formulas remain, and all that can
be recovered are odd bits of hunting and fishing lore that are not nec-
essarily of Cherokee derivation.
Agricultural magic, once an important part of the major religious
ceremonies, has also largely disappeared. Some small vestiges still
remain. In one field of corn, ax blades were placed on short poles
facing the cardinal directions, as I was told, “‘to break up the thunder-
heads” of an approaching storm. Once at the dinner table, a con-
juror refused to eat sweet corn, because it was too early in the season,
and if he ate some, he would be unable to break up dangerous
thunderstorms.
Many forms of divination still persist. In the past, the ‘“uldnsata,”’
a quartz crystal used to predict the future, was one of the most sacred
Cherokee religious objects. These objects have disappeared, but
many informants reverently recall the fulfilled predictions of air-
planes, automobiles, and railroad trains envisioned by the “old men”
of bygone days while looking into the stone. Dreams were formerly
considered disease agents, the actual mechanisms for transmitting the
ilmess, but are now considered as omens. Nevertheless, a man who
dreams of being bitten by a snake should be treated as if he actually
had been bitten. There is a belief that the manifest dream content
will be inevitably fulfilled, but the intervention of a conjuror may
No. 21] CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS—FOGELSON 223
succeed in delaying the prophecy or “‘moving it over.”’ Thus, in the
case of a person who dreams of a death in his family, the conjuror
may be able to forestall such an event by “moving it”’ down the river
to another settlement.
Rolling the beads is still a widely practiced form of divination.
The beads, formerly small seeds—now largely replaced by glass
beads—are of three colors: red and white, symbolic of victory or suc-
cess, and black, indicative of defeat or death. The red or white bead
is held between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand and the
black bead held similarly in the left hand. In diagnosing a person’s
illness, it is felt that the patient will recover if the right-hand bead
shows more activity, while greater activity by the black bead is a bad
omen. If the answer is unfavorable, the beads can be rolled again,
but the procedure can be repeated only a fixed number of times. The
beads can also be used to answer direct ‘‘yes or no”’ questions and are
important in ball game divination.* Other surviving forms of divina-
tion include the use of an arrowhead suspended on a crossbar to point
out the direction of lost objects and a variety of interpretations of
natural phenomena to predict certain events.
Various forms of sorcery are known and practiced. Witchcraft is
greatly feared and elaborate ceremonies are undertaken to counteract
the malicious efforts of a witch. A witch can get to his victim directly
through metamorphosis or, more often, indirectly by dispatching dis-
ease spirits. A knowledgeable conjuror can dispel these spirits and
return them to the sender by recourse to the proper ceremony. One
type of witch is particularly fond of attacking people in a weakened
condition, so that the slightest illness is considered a serious affair. No
one will confess to being a witch or to practicing sorcery, but it is said
that a witch can be recognized because he (or she) will never look any-
one in the eye. Also dogs are felt to be particularly keen in detecting
witches. ‘The actual amount of sorcery practiced on the reservation
today is probably slight, but its presence as a psychological reality ac-
counts for a great deal of interpersonal hostility and a means for
channeling aggression.
Cherokee love magic has not received the attention it deserves in
published sources (e.g., Mooney, 1891, pp. 375-384, and Mooney and
Olbrechts, 1932, pp. 154-155). One informant gave a vivid descrip-
tion of the process. According to his account—
A man would fast alone in the woods for seven days. His only nourishment
came from herbal teas, and hunger pangs were pacified by swallowed saliva. A
conjuror took the man for daily baths in a ‘‘branch”’ and ‘‘put water over his head,”’
while reciting love conjurations. When the man returned to the “‘road”’ (i.e. back
4+ Much ball game ceremonialism persists today. The writer hopes to treat this subject in detail at a later
time.
224 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM __[B.A.E. Bull. 180
to civilization), the desired woman against whom the ceremonies were directed
would seek him out, wander after him, and ‘‘crave him.”? She wouldn’t eat any-
thing. If she got hungry, “‘she’d just bend over and eat dirt and think it was
bread—she’d really crave that man.”
Besides the oral symbolism which also abounds in Cherokee love
formulas,® this account points up another prevalent motif in love at-
traction formulas. Before the desired end—the love of a particular
woman—is achieved, the woman must be degraded. Although it is
not always necessary to make her stoop to geophagy, the incantation
should at least ‘‘render the woman blue [symbolic of trouble or dis-
tress], let her be completely veiled in loneliness . . . and bring her
down,” as one of Mooney’s formulas implores (Mooney, 1891, p. 376).
Before it is possible to gain a woman’s love, she must be made unat-
tractive to other suitors. ‘Thus, love attraction rites may be viewed
as a type of sorcery in which one of the objects is to bring misfortune
upon another person.
In the case of a spurned suitor, he may lose any positive feeling for
the woman and only wish to “bring her down” out of motives for re-
venge. She can be made unattractive to all others and be smitten
with irrational love toward the spurned suitor, in which case he can
have the satisfaction of unsympathetically observing her plight and
repulsing her uncontrolled advances. Other forms of love magic in-
clude formulas for breaking up a match by a jealous third party,
bringing back a straying husband or wife, and preventive magic
against disruption of marital bliss.
Many other forms of sorcery, closely related to love magic, are con-
ceptualized by the phrase ‘“‘twisting their minds.”’ Although this can
include making a person insane, it does not always have an evil conno-
tation. Such magic can be used to transform a former enemy into a
friend. More often, such formulas are used to produce temporary
confusion or compliance from another to gain a specific end. This
notion is implied in many of the ball game formulas which strive to
keep the opposing players from seeing the ball, or to turn the enemies’
minds from the anticipated joy of victory (‘‘making them loose their
grasp on the stakes’’).
This type of magic serves a new function on the reservation today.
Conjurors are frequently employed by Cherokee involved in legal
difficulties. It is felt that certain ceremonies have the power to in-
fluence a judge’s decision and lighten the sentence. One particular
case will illustrate:
A man was killed in Big Cove about 20 years ago by two young Cherokee. A
conjuror took a personal interest in the case, because one of the defendants had
been raised in his household. Bail was raised, and the conjuror assured his client
5 Holzinger (this volume, pp, 232-234) has stressed the oral dependent nature of Cherokee personality.
No. 21] CHEROKEE MEDICO-MAGICAL BELIEFS—FOGELSON 225
that he would be cleared of charges, if he followed instructions. The boy was
taken to the creek daily and the conjuror performed many ceremonies to place
the entire guilt on the other boy. On the day of the trial, the conjuror was cer-
tain his ceremonies were working and even predicted that the other boy would
never return to Big Cove alive. ‘The court met several days before the conjuror’s
client turned state’s witness and was released. The other boy drew a sentence
of 15 years in the penitentiary. Ironically, he died 9 days before his scheduled
release from prison, thus fulfilling the conjuror’s prophecy.
It has been argued here that the large amount of Cherokee medico-
magical knowledge that persists today can be accounted for by the
presence of a written language and historical events which left the
Eastern Cherokee isolated for the greater part of the 19th century.
Some bodies of lore, as hunting and fishing magic, have disappeared
because of shifting economic patterns and changes in the local ecology.
More recently, increased contact with white culture has brought about
changes and accommodation in the medico-magical belief system.
Since the formulas survive verbatim these changes have occurred in
interpretation, emphasis, and application. Although conjuring seems
to be a declining art, it would be rash to predict its immediate demise,
since the evidence presented indicates that the underlying belief
system is able to absorb many shocks and reintegrate successfully.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
GEARING, FREDERICK O.
. Cherokee political organizations, 1730-1775. MS., Ph. D. disserta-
tion, University of Chicago, 1956.
Mooney, JAMES.
1890. Cherokee theory and practice of medicine. Journ. Amer. Folklore,
vol. 3, pp. 44-50.
1891. Sacred formulas of the Cherokee. 7th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol.,
pp. 302-397.
1900. Myths of the Cherokee. 19th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., pt. 1,
pp. 3-576.
Mooney, JAMES, and OLBRECHTS, FRANS.
1932. The Swimmer manuscript. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 99.
OLBRECHTS, FRANS.
1930. Some Cherokee methods of divination. 23d Intern. Congr. Ameri-
canists Proc., 1928, pp. 547-552.
SpEcK, FRANK G., and Broom, LEONARD.
1951. Cherokee dance and drama. Berkeley, Calif.
Tuomas, Rospert K.
. Cherokee values and world view. MS. on deposit Cross-Cultural
Laboratory, University of North Carclina, 1958.
WITTHOFT, JOHN.
1948. Will West Long, Cherokee informant. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 50,
pp. 355-59.
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Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 22. Some Observations on the Persistence of Aboriginal
Cherokee Personality Traits
By CHARLES H. HOLZINGER
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SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE PERSISTENCE OF
ABORIGINAL CHEROKEE PERSONALITY TRAITS
By Cuarztes H. Houzincer
Franklin and Marshail College
The apparent persistence of certain basic personality traits in
a number of North American Indian tribes from aboriginal times to
the present has given rise to a search for explanations. It was Hallo-
well in 1946 who first forcefully called attention to this persistence
in his now classic paper, “SSome Psychological Characteristics of the
Northeastern Indian.” In that paper he documented a remarkable
correspondence between the emotional structure of Northeastern
American Indian groups as described by early travelers, missionaries,
and traders, and that which he himself had observed among the Beh-
rens River Salteaux, an Ojibwa group. The outstanding trait in-
volved in this similarity was one which Hallowell has called ‘‘a multi-
faceted pattern of emotional restraint or inhibition.’”’ Perhaps the
most striking facet in this pattern was the suppression of any expres-
sion of hostility in interpersonal relations. Other components of
this personality structure were: (1) a high valuation of independence
and a resentment of authority, with a complementary hesitancy to
command others; (2) a wariness and cautiousness in approach to both
human and nonhuman aspects of the environment; and (3) a dis-
tinct reluctance to refuse requests made either implicitly or explicitly.
These findings for the Salteaux were corroborated or concurred in
by other students of the Ojibwa (or Chippewa): Barnouw (1950),
Caudill (1949), Friedl (1956), and Boggs (1958). Fenton (1948), in
reviewing the symposium which carried Hallowell’s paper, equated
Seneca and Six Nations personality traits; and Wallace (1951, 1952)
found the same thing to be true for the Tuscarora of New York State.
Because Salteaux culture was in many respects little changed from
aboriginal patterns, Hallowell did not at first find it remarkable that
basic personality patterns seemed likewise unchanged. He concluded
that “the connection between this psychological pattern and cul-
tural conditions of which it is a function are fairly clear’”’ (Hallowell,
1955, p. 144). Later, as the result of having found the same person-
ality structure in more acculturated Ojibwa groups, Hallowell con-
229
230 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
cluded that personality must be more stable than other aspects of
culture, such as subsistence patterns, kinship systems, etc., and he
concluded that a considerable degree of acculturation could occur with-
out any radical change in personality structure (ibid., p. 335).
A number of other explanations were advanced to explain this
persistence. Barnouw ascribed the striking historical continuity
of personality to the fact that “(Chippewa acculturation resulted in no
disorganization of social structure, no change in the nature of inter-
personal relationships. The long apprenticeship with the trader,
so to speak, served to induct the Chippewa gradually into their
present place in the western world” (Barnouw, 1950, p. 65).
Friedl (1956, p. 823) believed the persistence was due to a trans-
lation of a cultural experience of continuous change extending back
into aboriginal times into a personality trait of a deep underlying
feeling of impermanence that reflected itself in the “detailed, prac-
tical, and uncreative approach to problems.”
While not attempting an explanation of his own, Boggs (1958, p. 54)
concluded after a study of parent-child interaction patterns that the
persistence of Ojibwa personality cannot be attributed to unchanging
patterns of parental care for children.
It is the intention to explore in this paper whether materials gath-
ered in fieldwork with the Eastern Band of the Cherokee in North
Carolina may shed any light on this problem.’ First, let it be said
that an examination of the historical accounts of the Cherokee by
18th-century travelers, traders, missionaries, and administrators
clearly reveals that the traits found by Hallowell to characterize
Indians of the Northeast hold true also for the Cherokee (cf. Adair,
1775; Bartram, 1791; Evans, 1708; Hawkins, 1796-1800; Lawson,
1714; Meigs, 1796-1807; Timberlake, 1765). What is more, these
accounts present a rather striking documentation of the similarity
between the personality traits described for the late 18th century and
those found in fieldwork with the Cherokee of Big Cove today: the
obligatory hospitality and sharing, the impassivity—reflected in
accounts of encounters where no greetings were exchanged—the
refusal or unwillingness to contradict, the love of punning and other
kinds of word play, the absence of gestures in public speaking, the
reticence to assume authority roles, and a host of others. In all of the
accounts examined, there were only two discordant notes with re-
gard to these traits of individual character; both of these were re-
corded by Bartram.
1 The fieldwork on which this paper is based was conducted in the community of Big Cove during the sum-
mers of 1956, 1957, and 1958 under the auspices of the Cross-Cultural Laboratory of the University of North
Carolina under the direction of Dr. John Gulick.
No. 22] CHEROKEE PERSONALITY TRAITS—HOLZINGER 231
In one passage Bartram (1791, p. 289) tells of observing from con-
cealment a group of Cherokee virgins disporting themselves in gay
play while picking wild strawberries. On the approach of Bartram
and a companion, “they confidently discovered themselves and de-
cently advanced to meet us, half unveiling their blooming faces, incar-
nated with the modest maiden blush, and with native innocence and
cheerfulness presented their little baskets, merrily telling us their
fruit was ripe and sound.”’ On the other occasion, Bartram describes
being discovered while lunching alone in an isolated spot in the moun-
tains by a young Indian who was hunting, and who was as surprised
as he, but who, after exchanging greetings, proceeded on his way,
“singing as he went” (Bartram, 1791, p. 293).
The more recent visitor to the Cherokee is not likely to be met by
advancing friendly maidens, or by departing singing huntsmen.
There is another note, of perhaps more subtle nature, struck in the
writings of Adair, Timberlake, Hawkins, Meigs, and also found in the
later Payne-Buttrick papers, which seems to point to a much profound-
er discontinuity than the improbable scenes described by Bartram.
These writers make repeated allusions to the joyous character of the
various major ceremonial occasions of the Cherokee. While the note
is not usually one of unrestrained exuberance, one gets an impression
of deeply emotionally satisfying experiences on the part of the partici-
pants in the annual round of Cherokee ceremonies long ago. Perhaps
it is simply because there are no longer comparable ceremonial occa-
sions of this sort that the modern observer feels the lack of emotional
satisfactions among the Cherokee today. If the traditional ceremo-
nies are missing from contemporary Cherokee life, other forms of social
gathering are not. The Cherokee eagerly seek such occasions as
church meetings, ball games, and pie socials. But the observer of
these occasions does not get the impression of real participation, much
less of deep enjoyment; on the contrary, the Cherokee remain essen-
tially passive spectators. They seem almost driven to attend these
gatherings, not for the enjoyment in participation but for the gratifica-
tion that comes simply from reaffirming that others are not actively
hostile to them. This reassurance is usually but not always forth-
coming; for church services, especially, sometimes become the scene
of occasional fights or near-fights, usually among the women.
The accounts of the earlier writers also reflect a dramatic contrast
in social organization and integration. Some allowance must certainly
be made for ‘‘idealization” in the writings of these observers. Even
after allowing for this, however, one is struck in their writings by the
tightly knit social organization of the Cherokee community, symbol-
ized by the centrally located townhouse and dance grounds. The
formalized patterns of authority, the complex social stratification, the
232 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
community-supported priesthood, and the common storehouse used
during the festival season bespeak a social integration now almost
completely lacking. Corporate groups do exist today, such as the free
labor societies, the Christmas clubs, the ball teams, and church congre-
gations. None of these knit up the community as a whole, however,
and their memberships are continuously shifting ones as new realine-
ments take place as the result of real or imagined slights, jealousies,
recriminations, and the all-pervasive suspiciousness that invades at
times even the nuclear family.
This atomism so apparent today would seem to belie the earlier
assertion of a close correspondence between aboriginal personality
traits and those seen today. Formerly the Cherokee seemed bound
up in a set of complex and durable interpersonal relationships which
brought him satisfactions and relief from certain impulses; whereas
today, social relationships are fragile and are marked by undertones
of suspicion and hostility that seem almost to eliminate gratification
from them.
A closer look at the personalities of Big Cove Cherokee today pro-
vides a possible explanation for this seeming contradiction. For while
certain basic lineaments of the aboriginal character continue to per-
sist, the social context in which they are expressed has undergone pro-
found transformation, and with this change in context have come alter-
ations in the expression of these underlying traits. ‘The Cherokee of
Big Cove today typically show traits of passivity, apathy, suspicious-
ness, and dependency that would in the event of the removal of all
outside sources of support seem to make even their biological survival
questionable. These traits can be seen as the neurotic warping of the
underlying character structure. In the aboriginal personality, the
anxieties which precipitate these neurotic tendencies were absent, al-
though the tendencies themselves were latently present. With the
removal of certain supports, they are today expressed.
What was, and is, this basic Cherokee personality structure? Its
most significant feature is a fixation at the period of oral dependency
in infancy and early childhood. We know that persons who, as a re-
sult of early experiences, have developed an orally dependent character
respond to anxiety-producing frustrations later in life in a depressive
way, showing the traits of apathy, passivity, and dependence. The
frustrations which are particularly effective in producing this state of
neurotic depression are those involving a loss of self-esteem. The
fieldwork data show that child-rearing patterns among the Cherokee
of Big Cove today would produce strong anxieties in the expression of
aggressive and dependency feelings, or, to put it another way, establish
certain fixations in the period of oral dependency.
No. 22] CHEROKEE PERSONALITY TRAITS—HOLZINGER 233
Cherokee children today are nursed whenever they show any rest-
lessness, whether this be caused by hunger or not. The breast is the
ereat pacifier; for example, the child burning his foot on a hot stove
is comforted by being put immediately to the breast. The child knows
no regular rhythm of hunger and satiation, as he is nursed whenever
he is fussy, and released as soon as his restlessness ceases.
Women do not seem to enjoy the nursing experience particularly.
Moreover, they often display real ambivalence toward their children,
There are occasions during the nursing period when the mother seems
to be seductively warm and affectionate; but more frequently, her
handling seems, rather, dictated by a desire to keep to a minimum
the child’s intrusions on her attention.
The time and manner of weaning show rather great variation in the
Big Cove of today. In a large number of cases, however, it tends to
be abrupt when it does occur. It may occur owing to the temporary
or prolonged absence of the mother, or to the start of a new pregnancy,
or to an arbitrary decision of the mother, which she may make because
the baby bites her or because to continue nursing him is inconvenient.
Usually, as long as the child is being nursed, the food supply is
dependable. With weaning, or sometimes even before, many children
experience massive deprivation of food. Some of this deprivation
is simply the result of erratic food supplies available to the family.
But probably in more cases, it is due to inconstancies on the part
of the parents and/or of the siblings who are so frequently given
responsibility for the young child. Thus the small child moves from
a world of assured plenty into a world of caprice. Moreover, as there
is no daily routine, he knows no regular cycles of sleeping, waking,
and eating. Various deceptions are practiced on him so that the
parents may gain temporary respite from his fretfulness.
The casual and weak emotional ties which frequently exist between
mother and child are demonstrated in another way. Most Cherokee
children spend extended periods of time in households other than the
parental one. Some of these children have been “thrown away’’—
to grandparents or other relatives, when the mother who has borne
them marries or remarries; or they have been given for adoption to
relatives or even to unrelated members of the Cherokee community.
A smaller but still sizable number of children themselves announce
a preference to live with grandparents or other kin, and move from
their parental household.
The father does not usually play an important role in socialization.
He is frequently absent from the household, and he is usually not a
regular provider. His behavior shows the same range of capricious-
ness shown by the mother, with his prevailing attitude perhaps one of
indifference.
934. CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
The frustrations in the satisfaction of nutritional and affectional
needs which the small child experiences give rise to aggressive impulses,
which, however, have to be repressed, since to bite the band (or the
breast) that feeds you is simply to bring on even greater deprivation.
It seems reasonable to believe that Cherokee wariness and cautious-
ness, also, may be the result of these early experiences with the
unpredictability of maternal and sibling nurturance.
This situation with its initial high security and nurturance shifts
to one where indifference and caprice dominate, and it is from the
anxiety generated by this change that are sown the seeds for later
neurosis. However, the Indian child usually retains a relatively
high degree of spontaneity and emotional response until he first
confronts the demands of the white world in a major way. It is then
that the neurotic regression to passivity and emotional indifference
takes place. In Big Cove, the time of this withdrawal varies from
child to child, varying with his own inner resources and the level of
acculturation of his family. For the present generation, it occurs
for some with their entrance into the white-value-dominated school in
their 7th or 8th year; for others, it does not occur until puberty, with
the realization that there are no vocational goals which yield satis-
faction from the practice of traditional values. What happens is
a failure in sources of enhancement of self-esteem. The child finds
himself in a larger world where everything traditionally Indian is
denigrated. ‘There are no roles in either the white or Indian worlds
which do not make him painfully aware of inferiority, for the tradi-
tional value system which stresses independence, generosity, and self-
restraint itself becomes the source of conflict, since these values cannot
find satisfying expression.
There are, furthermere, nowhere any approved outlets for his
ageressive and dependency impulses. The evangelical Christianity
which most Cherokee embrace today is more threatening than re-
assuring, and the rewards it holds out to the believer are not those
of daily succorance. Aggressive impulses still remain to a large
extent repressed by older males, and escape usually only as they did
in aboriginal times, with the assistance of alcohol. With Cherokee
women and younger men, the controls are weaker. For all, however,
the dependency longings push for expression. But despite this,
there is no greater willingness to accept authority.
For people caught in such a conflict, and possessing such a complex
of predisposing traits as the result of early childhood experiences,
the only solution is withdrawal into apathy.
How can this picture of contemporary Cherokee personality be
reconciled with what we have said about the similarity to the basic
lineaments of aboriginal Cherokee personality? If we ask what type
No. 22] CHEROKEE PERSONALITY TRAITS—HOLZINGER 235
of early childhood experiences would lead to a personality marked by
the inhibition of affectual expression, particularly hostility; by a
characteristic wariness and even suspiciousness of others; by an in-
ability to deny even implicit requests, and a resentment of authority,
we would be led to anticipate childhood experiences very similar to
those which have been described. There is one important difference,
however. The same neurotic tendencies observable in Cherokee
personality today were implicitly present aboriginally, but they were
held in check by a value system which precisely buttressed the points
of greatest latent weakness, and there were roles and a belief system
in which these values could find satisfying expression. There was a
high valuation placed upon independence and autonomy precisely
because there were deep unconscious dependency longings. Gen-
erosity was highly valued because the basic character structure would
lead individuals to be grasping and selfish. There were strong values
relating to bravery and courage because the inner urges were to with-
draw in the face of any threatening situation. And finally, there
was strong valuation placed upon self-restraint because there were
strong aggressive impulses.
Not only were the points of greatest latent weakness buttressed
by these values, but there were external supports as well. Within
the life and social organization of the Cherokee there were approved
outlets for the release of aggressive impulses in war, in the joking
relationships, and in certain ceremonial aspects; and patterned out-
lets existed also for the expression of dependency feelings. In addi-
tion, when self-esteem was threatened, the Cherokee had recourse
to the reassurance of supernatural forces, whose benevolent assistance
could be secured to help meet the anxieties of daily experience.
Hallowell has noted for the Ojibwa and Wallace for the Tuscarora
that there seem to be strong anxiety-producing strains in the area of
the expression of aggression and dependency in the modal personality
of these cultures. If investigation with other Northeastern groups
should show patterns of childhood experience similar to those found
for the Cherokee of Big Cove, we would then have a common feature
of implicit culture which would explain the widespread occurrence
of a basically similar personality type in cultures of different subsis-
tence base and social organization in the Northeast. It might also
explain the remarkable similarity in personality of certain acculturated
Indian groups of ‘‘transitional” status.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ADAIR, JAMES.
1775. The history of the American Indians. London.
Barnouw, VICTOR.
1950. Acculturation and personality among the Wisconsin Chippewa. Amer.
Anthrop. Assoc. Mem. No. 72.
536135—61——16
236 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM = ‘[B-4-E. Bull. 180
BARTRAM, WILLIAM.
1791. Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West
Florida, the Cherokee country, the extensive territories of the
Muscogulges, or Creek Confederacy, and the country of the Chac-
taws. Philadelphia. (Ed. 1928, Mark Van Doren, ed., New
York.)
Boages, STEPHEN T.
1956. An interactional study of Ojibwa socialization. Amer. Sociol. Rev.
vol. 21, pp. 191-198.
1958. Culture change and the personality of Ojibwa children. Amer. An-
throp., vol. 60, pp. 47-58.
BRUNER, Epwarp M.
1956. Primary group experience and the processes of acculturation. Amer.
Anthrop., vol. 58, pp. 605-623.
CAUDILL, WILLIAM.
1949. Psychological characteristics of acculturated Wisconsin Ojibwa chil-
dren. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 51, pp. 409-427.
Erikson, Erik H.
1950. Childhood and society. New York.
Evans, JOHN.
. Diary of a journey from South Carolina to Indian country. MS.,
1708, Library of Congress.
FENICHEL, OTTo.
1945. The psychoanalytic theory of neurosis. New York.
Fenton, W. N.
1948. The present status of anthropology in Northeastern North America;
a review article. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 50, pp. 494-515.
FRIEDL, ERNESTINE.
1956. Persistence in Chippewa culture and personality. Amer. Anthrop.,
vol. 58, pp. 814-825.
Frigs, ADELAIDE LISETTA.
1944. Report of the Brethren Abraham Steiner and Friedrich Christian von
Schweinitz of their journey to the Cherokee Nation and in the Cum-
berland settlements in the state of Tennessee, from 28th October to
28th December, 1799. North Carolina Hist. Rev., vol. 21, pp. 330—
375.
HALLowELu, A. IRVING.
1946. Some psychological characteristics of the Northeastern Indians. In
Man in Northeastern North America, ed. by Frederick Johnson.
Phillips Acad., Andover, Pap. Robert S. Peabody Found. Archaeol.,
vol. 3, pp. 195-225.
1955. Culture and experience. Philadelphia.
HAWEINS, BENJAMIN.
. Correspondence with A. Ellicott. MS., 1796-1800, Library of Con-
gress.
JAMES, BERNARD J.
1954. Some critical observations concerning analyses of Chippewa ‘“‘atomism”
and Chippewa personality. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 56, pp. 283-286.
KARDINER, ABRAM.
1945. The psychological frontiers of society. New York.
No. 22] CHEROKEE PERSONALITY TRAITS—HOLZINGER 237
Kroeber, A. L.
1955. History of anthropological thought. Jn Current Anthropology, ed.
by William L. Thomas, Jr. Chicago.
Lawson, JOHN.
1714. History of North Carolina. London. (Ed. by Frances Latham
Harriss, Richmond, 1951.)
Meics, RETURN JONATHAN.
. Memorandum book of occurrences in the Cherokee and Choctaw
country. MS., 1796-1807, Library of Congress.
Payne, JOHN Howarp.
n.d. The Payne-Buttrick Papers, Books 3, 4, and 5. Ed. by T. M. Lewis
and M. Kneberg. Mimeographed. Cherokee Historical Associa-
tion Library, Cherokee, N.C.
SPINDLER, GEORGE.
1955. Sociocultural and psychological processes in Menomini acculturation.
Univ. Calfornia Publ. Culture and Society, vol. 5. Berkeley.
SPINDLER, GEORGE and LOUISE.
1958. Male and female adaptations in culture change. Amer. Anthrop., vol.
60, pp. 217-233.
TIMBERLAKE, HENRY.
1765. The memoirs of Lieut. Henry Timberlake. London. (Ed. by Samuel
Cole Williams, Johnson City, Tenn., 1927.)
Wauuace, AntHony F. C.
1951. Some psychological determinants of culture change in an Iroquoian
community. Jn Symposium on local diversity in Iroquois culture,
ed. by William N. Fenton. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149,
pp. 55-76.
1952. The modal personality structure of the Tuscarora Indians. Bur. Amer.
Ethnol. Bull. 150.
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 23. First Comment on Charles H. Holzinger’s “Some
Observations on the Persistence of Aboriginal Cherokee
Personality Traits”
By DAVID LANDY
239
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FIRST COMMENT ON CHARLES H. HOLZINGER’S
“SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE PERSISTENCE
OF ABORIGINAL CHEROKEE PERSONALITY
TRAITS”
By Davin Lanpy
Massachusetts Mental Health Center and Department of Psychiatry,
Harvard Medical School
Holzinger’s very interesting paper stimulates anew the perplexities
that face the ethnologist who attempts to explain presumed persist-
ence of behavioral or cultural phenomena. One may wonder at the
traits which have been singled out as predominating in Cherokee per-
sonality: valuation of independence but expressed dependence; wari-
ness in human and nonhuman relationships; reluctance to refuse
demands of others; impassivity; obligatory hospitality. In partic-
ular Holzinger uses oral frustrations in child training to explain the
apathy, passivity, and dependence of contemporary Cherokee.
Bartram, to whom Holzinger refers, knew the Cherokee intimately
in the late 18th century and he has used the following adjectives to
describe their character (Bartram, 1794, pp. 481 passim):
Air of magnanimity, superiority and independence;
Grave and steady;
Dignified, circumspect, slow and reserved, yet frank;
Cheerful and humane;
Secret, deliberate, and determined in their councils;
Honest, just, and liberal;
Ready to defend territory and rights with life itself;
Hospitable to strangers;
Considerate, loving, and affectionate to their wives;
Fond of their children;
Industrious, frugal, temperate, perservering, charitable, forbearing;
Fond of games and sports.
This list does not preclude the traits selected by Holzinger. It
does suggest, however, that differences exist either in the outlook and
perceptions of the 18th- and 20th-century observers, or objectively in
Cherokee behavior, or both. It also suggests that human personality
is too complex to be characterized by a few traits, even when these
seem outstanding to the stranger within the gates. Bartram, as if to
241
242 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
illustrate that relative degree and intensity are important even among
cultures whose bearers share similar behavior traits says: ‘“The Mus-
cogulges [Creeks] are more volatile, sprightly, and talkative than
their Northern neighbors, the Cherokees.” In contrast to Holzinger’s
characterization of “the all-pervasive suspiciousness that invades at
times even the nuclear family,”’ Bartram said: “I have been weeks
and months amongst them and in their towns, and never observed
the least sign of contention or wrangling; never saw an instance of
an Indian beating his wife, or even reproving her in anger” (Bartram,
1794, p. 488). And he says respect and consideration, as well as af-
fection, were as characteristic of the wife as of the husband.
It is not enough to say that Bartram’s descriptions strike ‘‘discord-
ant notes” in the harmonious consensus reached by other observers,
thus hinting that Bartram’s observations are less reliable. It re-
quires the most painstaking kind of historiography to assess the rela-
tive reliability of these more ancient students of Indian life. And
these earlier observers were themselves beset with the same kind of
problem when they sought to harmonize their findings with those of
others and were forced to explain apparent contradictory evidence.
For example, Jonathan Carver, a Captain in the provincial troops,
who returned to England to publish his ‘Travels through the Interior
Parts of North America for More than Five Thousand Miles . . .”
confines his ‘‘Concise Character of the Indians’ to the more westerly
tribes like the Chippewa, Winnebago, Sauk, and others, and states:
That the Indians are of a cruel, revengeful, inexorable disposition, that they
will watch whole days unmindful of the calls of nature, and make their way
through pathless, almost unbounded woods, subsisting only on the scanty produce
of them, to pursue and revenge themselves of an enemy; that they hear unmoved
the piercing cries of such as unhappily fall into their hands, and receive a diabol-
ical pleasure from the tortures they inflict on their prisoners, I readily grant; but
let us look at the reverse of this terrifying picture, and we shall find them tem-
perate both in their diet and potations (it must be remembered that I speak of
those tribes who have little communication with Europeans), that they withstand,
with unexampled patience, the attacks of hunger, or the inclemency of the seasons,
and esteem the gratification of their appetites but as a secondary consideration.
We shall likewise see them social and human to those whom they consider as
their friends, and even to their adopted enemies; and ready to partake with them
of the last morsel, or to risk their lives in their defence.
In contradiction to the report of many other travellers all of which have been
tinctured with prejudice, I can assert, not withstanding the apparent indifference
with which an Indian meets his wife and children after a long absence, an indif-
ference proceeding rather from custom than insensibility, he is not unmindful of
the claims either of connubial or parental tenderness: .... [Carver, 1796, p. 269.]
Carver then proceeds to give what he feels is a balanced portrayal
of Indian character. Like many others, this account suffers from a
lumping together of all the tribes in the regions he covered, and we
No. 23] COMMENT—LANDY 243
may suspect that, far from being untainted, his particular prejudices
have tinctured his own description. But he deserves an accolade for
attempting to see the multitudinous complexity of human character
and applying this principle to the study of supposedly ‘‘barbarian,”
as well as ‘‘civilized”’ behavior.
Obviously differences to some degree in character structure must
have existed in various periods of Cherokee history. Thus, about a
quarter of a century before Holzinger’s fieldwork Gilbert observed:
“The Cherokees, as the present writer encountered them, were a
cheerful people much given to funmaking. Ziegler and Grosscup in
1883, however, found the Cherokees ‘incapable of joking’ ”’ (Gilbert,
1943, p. 282 ftn.).
Holzinger is very much aware of striking differences between the
earlier description of behavior traits and those he observed and ex-
plains them in this manner:
Formerly the Cherokee seemed bound up in a set of complex and durable
interpersonal relationships which brought him satisfaction and relief from certain
impulses; whereas today, social relationships are fragile and are marked by under-
tones of suspicion and hostility that seem almost to eliminate gratification from
them. A closer look at the personalities of Big Cove Cherokee today provides
a way out of this seeming contradiction. For while certain basic lineaments of
the aboriginal character continue to persist, the social context in which they are
expressed has undergone profound transformation, and with this change in context
have come alterations in the expression of these underlying traits. The Chero-
kee of Big Cove today typically show traits of passivity, apathy, suspiciousness
and dependency that would in the event of the removal of all outside sources
of support seem to make even their biological survival questionable. These traits
can be seen as the neurotic warping of the underlying character structure. In
the aboriginal personality, the anxieties which precipitate these neurotic tenden-
cies themselves were latently present. With the removal of certain supports,
they are today expressed.
Like other psychoanalytic constructs, the mechanism of repression
is a convenient device for explaining paradoxical behavior patterns
existing within an individual. But using it to explain how an entire
group differs in their contemporaneous behavior from that of their
ancestors requires more evidence than Holzinger has had space to
present in his necessarily brief paper. We need to know how this
works in the contemporary group to bring about the paradoxical be-
havior noted. And before making the assumption of ‘underlying
character structure’ as something which has been transmitted in its
same basic components through hundreds of years, more ethnohis-
torical and ethnopsychological data must be brought together. Iam
1“«The Cherokee I have known were subdued and gentle, very possibly hostile, covertly, but they were
not apathetic. Mollie Sequoyah, the greatgrandmother, bubbled with vitality. Charles Standing Deer
was friendly, witty, and warmhearted. I may have met unusual individuals.” (G.P. Kurath, persone
al communication.)
244 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
not suggesting that we should dispense with a concept like basic per-
sonality structure, since it does seem to explain, not only for the
Cherokee or other Woodlands cultures, but for almost any culture,
apparent chronological continuity of behavior, but that most assump-
tions which have been made of this sort make a long leap in time and
the historical hiatus must be bridged with more evidence than most
of us have so far been able or willing to muster.
I would take issue, also, with the characterization of present-day
Cherokee character as a “neurotic warping” of the presumed basic
cluster of Cherokee characteristics, and the assertion that neurotic
tendencies were latently present in the aboriginal character. This
seems to repeat the error of some anthropologists who have described
the behavior of whole societies as neurotic or psychotic (Wegrocki,
1939). If we are finally able to delineate a basic Cherokee personality
structure which has persisted in time, with various accretions and
losses and new overlays and syntheses resulting from the conditions
of various historical periods, it would seem more reasonable to label
the behavior of the Big Cove people of today as a new overlay and
synthesis, rather than as either neurotic or warped. The suggestion
of another contributor to this symposium, Witthoft, that contem-
porary American Indian cultures represent a special adaptation to
existing conditions best characterized as ‘reservation culture’’
suggests the possibility that contemporary Indian behavior may be
fruitfully seen as ‘‘reservation character” or “reservation personality.”
The problems posed by these comments are difficult, but not
incapable of solution. I would suggest the following methodological
considerations:
1. Careful documentation of Cherokee character traits through time. (This
would apply as well to studies of a similar nature with regard to the Iroquois
groups or any other society.) We would thus be enabled to draw a chronological
map of consistencies and changes through time, relate particular character
structures functionally to particular epochs, and to the cultural and social forces
at work within and around the culture. Fenton (1941) has done this for the
institution of Iroquois suicide patterns, Wallace (1951) has attempted this for
certain Tuscarora character traits (though making, I think, some errors similar
to those discussed here)?, and the present writer (Landy, 1958) has tried, with
insufficient ethnohistorical materials, to do the same with regard to the fortunes,
and changes of the Tuscarora Chiefs Council.
2. Antecedent-consequent linkages must be established in order to deduce
character traits of adults from child-training patterns. To explain adult per-
sonality from training of children of the generation contemporary with the adults
is a nonlogical explanatory technique. But one may, as Whiting and his associates
(1953, n.d.) have demonstrated, associate specific child behaviors with specific
2 But his more complete study of Tuscarora character (Wallace, 1952) using the Rorschach technique,
and permitting modal and submodal personality constellations to emerge from the statistical results, remains
a model of methodological sophistication.
No. 23] COMMENT—LANDY 245
child-rearing methods in the same individuals. Such linkages may also be made
by retrospective studies of adult subjects, using, where possible, surviving social-
izing agents, in order to discover specific training and other antecedents of child
and adult behavior.
3. Observers of the past seldom differentiated sufficiently from their generalized
“Tndian’”’ character studies with regard to age and sex grades, not to mention
possible differences according to ranking, or according to various statuses and
roles even in societies where ranking is not apparent. Modern ethnologists
should attempt to make such differentiations in the interests of a more detailed,
less monolithic picture of Indian behavior.
4. Finally, we must be prepared to face and explain the many inconsistencies
that may arise in the gathering and analyses of such data, using more than one
frame of reference and more than one theoretical level. A caution needs to be
voiced, however: Anthropology, which suffers inwardly and through the criticism
of other disciplines, because of presumed paucity of fruitful theory, has tended in
recent years to borrow liberally from its sister sciences. But when we borrow
such theories (and this ought to be itself the subject of a study in intellectual
and scientific diffusion and acculturation), we ought not to be inescapably bound
by those which may have originated to explain a special psychological or sociolog-
ical phenomenon occurring in one culture, or even in a single segment of that
culture.
The present writer hopes that these remarks will not be taken as
critical of Holzinger alone, simce some of them do not apply to his
paper, and he has informed me that in his own work he has accounted
for many of the methodological suggestions but could not present
more data within the scope of his paper. He has performed a much-
needed study of one of the most intriguing Indian cultures and its
practitioners. These strictures are meant, rather, to apply to all who
would attempt to deal with these important problems, and they point
up errors which many of us, including the present writer, have made.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BarRTRAM, WILLIAM.
1794. Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West
Florida, the Cherokee country, the extensive territories of the
Muscogulges, or Creek confederacy, and the country of the Choc-
taws. Philadelphia.
CARVER, JONATHAN.
1796. Three years travels through the interior parts of North America, for
more than five thousand miles. . . . Philadelphia.
FENTON, Wiuuiam N.
1941. Iroquois suicide: A study in the stability of a culture pattern. Bur.
Amer. Ethnol. Bull. No. 128, Anthrop. Pap. No. 14.
GILBERT, WiLLIAM HaRLEN, Jr.
1943. The Eastern Cherokees. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop.
Pap. No. 23.
Lanpy, Davin.
1958. Tuscarora tribalism and national identity. Ethnohistory, vol. 5,
pp. 250-284.
IAG CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Wauuacre, ANTHONY F. C.
1951. Some psychological determinants of culture change in an Iroquoian
community. Jn Symposium on local diversity in Iroquois culture,
ed. by William N. Fenton. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149, pp. 55-76.
1952. The modal personality structure of the Tuscarora Indians. Bur.
Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 150.
Weerocki, Henry J.
1939. A critique of cultural and statistical concepts of abnormality. Journ.
Abn. Soc. Psychol., vol. 34, pp. 166-178. Reprinted in Personality
in nature, society and culture, ed. by Clyde Kluckhohn, Henry A.
Murray, and David M. Schneider. New York, 1953 (rev.).
Wuitinc, Joon W. M.
1953. Field manual for the cross-cultural study of child rearing. Soc. Sci.
Res. Council. New York.
n.d. Field guide for a study of socialization in five societies. Laboratory
of Human Development, Harvard University (lithographed; de-
posited at the Laboratory).
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 24. Second Comment on Charles H. Holzinger’s “Some
Observations on the Persistence of Aboriginal Cherokee
Personality Traits”
By JOHN GULICK
247
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SECOND COMMENT ON CHARLES H. HOLZINGER’S
“SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE PERSISTENCE
OF ABORIGINAL CHEROKEE PERSONALITY
TRAITS”
By Joun Gutick
University of North Carolina
Holzinger’s stimulating paper raises certain issues relative to the
application of Freudian concepts to cultural analysis.
That the personality type which is modal in a culture and many of
the patterns of that culture are opposite sides of the same coin, and
that one of the ways of specifying the personality type is by means of
Freudian concepts—these matters are not at issue here; rather we are
concerned with the extent to which Freudian concepts can advanta-
geously be used. We are also concerned with the problem of dove-
tailing Freudian interpretations with other interpretations that are
available.
Freudian theory was developed for the purpose of diagnosing psy-
chopathology; its terminology designates pathological conditions;
therefore, when it is used to designate cultural patterns, these are often
phrased as patterned maladjustments. With this frame of reference,
pathologically oriented interpretations tend to be ramified throughout
the culture. Thus, for instance, Holzinger’s interpretation of Cherokee
social gatherings today: that they seem almost driven to attend these
meetings, not for enjoyment but for the gratification that comes simply
from the reassurance that others are not hostile to them. This fits
beautifully into the context of oral regression and the repression of
hostility which Holzinger delineates. It can, however, be matched by
an alternative interpretation, suggested by the thinking of Robert K.
Thomas: that Cherokee do positively enjoy their social gatherings;
that the absence from them of the extroverted joviality expected at
comparable middle class American affairs is a definite factor in their
enjoyment because it is a reflection of their ideals of interpersonal be-
havior which stress nonaggression and noninterference with others but
not rejection of others in the ‘rugged individualist” sense. This, in
turn, is part of the harmony element in their world view. The quar-
249
250 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
rels which sometimes break out are regarded by the Cherokee them-
selves as violations of the norm and are treated by withdrawal from
the offending persons. The withdrawal itself is consistent with non-
ageression and noninterference, and yet how easy it is for us to link it
in our thinking with schizoid withdrawal!
This note of caution suggests that in this field of relative probabili-
ties we must look for all possible clues. Freudian dynamics offer one
very valuable kind of clue, one which indicates how predispositions to
certain types of behavior, rather than to others, are maintained in a
culture. The great value of Holzinger’s interpretation is that it makes
it clear how and why Cherokee are predisposed to nonaggressive,
noninterferent, mutually assistant patterns, rather than to aggressive,
competitive patterns of individualistic striving, for example. How-
ever, the fact that Cherokee do, nevertheless, have aggressive impulses
does not in itself mean that the predisposition is intrinsically maladap-
tive nor that the ways in which aggression is channeled and sanctioned
are necessarily neurotic compensations, nor, in fact, that the adult
character structure itself is necessarily fixed in neurosis. It is at and
beyond this point that we must look for other types of clues. Is it the
best explanation of Cherokee valuation of generosity that it is a reac-
tion formation to the compulsion to be grasping and selfish? What
evidence do we have of such a compulsion as a general characteristic?
As a matter of fact, we could, in this case, put the Freudian shoe on the
other foot and say that Cherokee generosity is a result of their freedom
from fixation at the anal retentive phase. This shoe would fit just as
well, if not better. High valuation in itself does not imply the ex-
aggerated, “overdone” tone characteristic of actions that are, in fact,
compensatory, nor do Cherokee generosity patterns today (and pre-
sumably in aboriginal times in which context Holzinger raised the sub-
ject) have this tone.
Another alternative is that aborigiial generosity patterns developed
of necessity in an ecology based on hunting and horticulture, with
its attendant periods of want. Apart from noting that such patterns
would not be likely to develop among anal retentives, their origin,
establishment, and continuation through a long period of drastic
cultural change can, it seems to me, be primarily accounted for in
other than Freudian terms. Once established, such patterns become
positively rewarding—the people learn to enjoy them for their own
sake, as well as to need them. If we include an oral predisposition
in the account, we imply at most that the primary pleasure is in re-
ceiving. We do not imply that the primary pleasure is in not giving
(anal retentive), nor, necessarily in only receiving. Orally predis-
posed persons can learn (especially when the learning is in a context
of mutual aid institutions) to give with pleasure and not with trauma.
No. 24] COMMENT—GULICK 251
Elsewhere I have discussed in very summary fashion certain
present-day patterns of Cherokee culture which are apparently con-
tinuations from aboriginal times (Gulick, 1958b). They include many
items which are highly incongruent with the values of middle-class
American culture. ‘These Cherokee patterns are explicitly denigrated
by the whites with whom the Cherokee are in contact, and the Chero-
kee are aware of the denigration. Furthermore, because of the incon-
eruities, a Cherokee who tries to succeed according to white values
is forced to violate certain Cherokee ones. MHolzinger is correct in
noting these stress and conflict factors in the present situation.
In addition, although many aboriginal patterns are retained,
many crucial ones have been lost. As Thomas has pointed out in his
analysis of the Redbird Smith movement (this volume, p. 162), the
entire war organization (a mechanism for channeling aggression out-
ward and of satisfying aggressive personalities otherwise discouraged
in the culture) was rejected by the Cherokee themselves early in the
19th century. More recently, the ball games were discontinued.
Aggressiveness, therefore, has had to find outlets in a very probable
increase in gossip and backbiting, with associated suspiciousness and
hostility. Thomas feels that the fading away of the clan concept has
contributed to this trend toward interpersonal wariness, since it has
become more difficult to ascertain how one should deal with many
other people.
Holzinger’s attention to these problems is an important contribu-
tion. I do not feel, however, that we can attribute the retention of
older patterns to their having become, primarily, compensations for
these present-day stresses. For certain individual Cherokee, they
have very probably become so, and Holzinger’s formulation fits them.
Genuine neurosis occurs among them, and the form of the neurosis
is patterned by the cultural patterns, as Holzinger points out.
But this does not mean that the same cultural patterns are not
liked and preferred for their own sake by others. How many conser-
vatives have really been frustrated by not being able to adopt white
values? We do not know, but we do know that those who speak
English poorly and the many more whose understanding of it is super-
ficial cannot have a very clear idea of what white values really are.
That they resent white intrusions and have built barriers against
them is clear (Gulick, 1958 a). However, we cannot simply con-
clude that they have withdrawn into apathy and depression until
we can disprove that what they have actually done is to insulate
themselves as best they can in a way of life which, despite its problems,
provides them with pleasures and satisfactions which they do not
want to forego.
536135—61——_17
252 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.B. Bull. 180
BIBLIOGRAPHY
GuLIcK, JOHN.
1958 a. Language and passive resistance among the Eastern Cherokees.
Ethnohistory, vol. 5, pp. 60-81.
1958 b. Problems of cultural communication—the
The American Indian, vol. 8, pp. 20-30.
Tuomas, Rosert K.
——. Cherokee values and world-view. MS., University of North Carolina,
1958.
Eastern Cherokees.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 180
Symposium on Cherokee and Iroquois Culture
No. 25. Iroquoian Culture History: A General Evaluation
By WILLIAM N. FENTON
253
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CONTENTS
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TIROQUOIAN CULTURE HISTORY: A GENERAL
EVALUATION
By Wituram N. Fenton
New York State Museum and Science Service
RANGE AND CULTURAL SETTING
This symposium should have properly opened by describing the peo-
ple, their numbers, range, ecological, and cultural setting. Both the
northern Six Nations and the Cherokee are Iroquoian-speaking people
and the range of this family extends from Southeastern Tidewater
where until 1710 the Tuscarora, the sixth nation, and Nottoway occu-
pied the Piedmont; but mainly the Jroquoian family lived along the
Appalachian summit ranging from the Cherokee of the Great Smokies
northward to the Seneca of western New York who, with the Cayuga,
Onondaga, Oneida, and Mohawk, were the Five Nations of the Iro-
quois League. These, together with other northern Iroquoian tribes,
notably the Susquehanna of that valley, the Erie of that lake shore,
the Neutral of Niagara, and the Huron of Georgian Bay, inhabited the
lower Great Lakes region and extended down the St. Lawrence Valley
as far as Quebec, when first discovered. Their numbers are difficult
to estimate, but in round thousands the Huron counted 20, the tribes
of the League no more than 10, the Neutrals were of similar size, and
the Erie, Susquehanna and Tuscarora were 5 each; whereas the Cher-
okee mountaineers counted 22.
Their range affords a wide variety of environments and ecological
settings. The mountain habitat of the Great Smokies is floristically
similar to the dissected plateau of central New York. Both peoples
occupied inland positions which enabled them to withstand the shock
of first white contact without immediately losing their lands or being
depopulated. The late Professor Speck, whose field trips led him to
both areas, summed up the cultural position of the northern and south-
ern Iroquoians and offered us little hope as to how the connection
might be traced:
While it may be expected that analogies of some general character exist between
the Cherokee and the northern Iroquoians, no progress has been made in the at-
tempt to resolve the two cultural phases to a common foundation. The link of
language is the binder by which relationship is traced. The roots of migration
followed in the course of Iroquoian dispersion still defy explanation. Archeology
holds the answer. ([Speck, 1945, p. 22.]
257
258 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
It was hoped that this symposium might identify an area for the
resolution of this perennial topic of American ethnology, and it seemed
auspicious to meet at a time when teams of anthropologists were active
in both fields. But after reading the papers written for this sympo-
sium, which comprise this bulletin, I must confess to a certain disap-
pointment. Except in linguistics, musicology, choreography, and in
the definition of fundamental settlement types and their resolution in
the north, we are no nearer to demonstrating the relationship between
Cherokee and Iroquois than we were 70 years ago when James Mooney
first pointed out certain Cherokee and Iroquois parallels (Mooney,
1889, p. 67). A great deal more is known about their archeology;
first-rate ethnological studies and modern social anthropological analy-
ses have been carried out in both areas; and historical studies of first
rank are proceeding from the researches of both historically and an-
thropologically trained scholars throughout colonial America. Per-
haps the trouble is we know too much in detail and none of us moderns
has the grand, strategic sense of Mooney and his contemporaries. And
being a bit more sophisticated, we know that it is not a problem of
simply comparing Cherokee and Iroquois but both groups must be
compared with all of their neighbors at given points of time before one
can say what is Iroquois and what is Cherokee and how the two relate.
In this symposium only Kurath has really undertaken this task. Per-
haps the task is too formidable and might not discover enough to
warrant the effort. The problem itself has shifted. Ultimate Cher-
okee-Iroquois origins are not the real object of the search but the real
quarry are the parallel processes that can be discovered in the history
of the two groups that, when put side by side, take on new meanings.
Had the Creeks survived in the Southeast to have been compared
with the northern Iroquois they might have been just as satisfactory
as the Cherokee are unsatisfactory. !
1 The most telling comment on the symposium came from one who came to listen and later submitted two
papers, which are included in this bulletin (Nos. 11 and 21):
“«Two general points emerge after reading all the papers:
First—Although the linguistic relationship between the Cherokee and Iroquois has long been known
(and Lounsbury’s paper (this volume) sheds further light on the nature of the relationship), attempts to
show ethnological similarities have been most disappointing. More and more it appears that the Cherokee
are a basically Southeastern group and not as ‘‘marginal’’ as Swanton (1928) and Kroeber (1939) once sup-
posed. The most striking parallels for the Cherokee are, of course, with the Creek. Likewise, Iroquois-
Algonquian comparisons seem most rewarding.
Second.—Throughout many of the papers (especially Witthoft’s) and comments comes the cry for a more
sophisticated approach in discovering baselines for the study of modern reservation communities. The
older, more absolute ‘‘aboriginal-nonaboriginal”’ dichotomy is not the most realistic or useful tool for plotting
culture change, stability, and analyzing the importance of introduced culture traits. Thus, for example,
an old-fashioned wood stove is a basic part of the culture equipment of present-day conservative Cherokee
families. Although it was once an innovation, its preference over more modern gas or electric stoves can
be seen as an element of cultural conservatism.”
An additional point on the direct comparison of town size, though lacking in the original papers, has been
supplied (paper No.11). Mohawk towns were evidently twice the size of Cherokee communities and much
more concentrated. ‘Certainly these differences in absolute size would lead to important, differences in
town organization . . .”” (Raymond Fogelson, personal communication, J uly 319, 1959).
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON | 259
In round terms the Cherokee and Iroquois do have one thing in
common. Though a Southeastern people, the Cherokee appear to
have come from somewhere else just as the Iroquois cultural position
seems intrusive in the Northeast. Surrounded by Algonquian people
whom they most probably supplanted, the northern Iroquois have
adapted completely to the deciduous beech, maple, and elm forests of
the north and their adjustment is so complete, both culturally and
ecologically, that they have defied all attempts to derive them from
any place else. We are left then to work with the archeological, the
historical, and the modern, ethnological record. What does the record
of Iroquoian cultural history hold?
CHRONOLOGY
Five major periods of Iroquois cultural history were distinguished
in my 1940 treatment of culture problems (Fenton, 1940 a, p. 44).
These substantially, are:
1. A prehistoric period of internecine wars before confederation
. A protohistoric period of confederation: the Laurentian period
. The Iroquois or Beaver Wars for the fur trade during the French period
. The struggle to maintain the balance of power (between the English and
the French and with the Southeastern Indians)
5. Dispersion and removal to reservations
H CO bo
The last has three phases: Federal treaties and land cessions, the
factional struggles over Christianity and the Jacksonian policy of
removal, and the development of reservation culture in the ethnolog-
ical present since 1850. For the Longhouse Iroquois the first period
is before Deganawidah. ‘Two, three, and four are since Deganawidah,
and the last or ethnological present, is smce Handsome Lake, the
Seneca prophet.
In broad terms, these same periods can be made to do for the Cher-
okee. They have a prehistoric period. Their protohistoric period
is longer, extending from initial contact with DeSoto in 1540, well
past the middle of the 17th century. Lacking a French period, trade
begins with the English m the Carolinas and they too backed the
Crown in the Revolution, after which came their own cultural ren-
aissance and the tragic tale of removal over the ‘‘trail of tears” to
Oklahoma. ‘Those Cherokee who stayed m the Carolina mountains
remained for ethnological study by Mooney and they contrast with
the people whom Morgan, Hale, and Hewitt studied in western New
York and southern Ontario. ‘Tracing these parallels was a simple
and pleasant game so long as one ignored history and the quite different
character of the two cultures.
In historical terms we may summarize the Cherokee-Iroquois
connection. Whatever the ultimate relationship that limguistic
260 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
science demands of these northern and southern relatives, after a long
separation, throughout the 18th century they were in more or less con-
tinuous contact during the protracted Cherokee-Iroquois War, which
terminated in a peace treaty just after 1770 when Sequoia was 10
years old. Several institutions and ritual complexes were transmitted
from the Cherokee to the Iroquois at this time, and other Southeastern
traits, like the blowgun, which were present in northern Iroquois culture
a century later, may be attributed to these contacts. Whether some
rather striking resemblances between the two peoples date back to an
erstwhile linguistic connection remains to be seen.
SPECIAL GENIUS OF THE FIVE NATIONS
Few have appreciated the special genius of the Five Nations more
than Cadwallader Colden who, in 1727, introduced his little history of
the Five Indian Nations with these remarks to Governor Burnet: ‘“The
Five Nations are a poor Barbarous People, under the darkest Ignorance,
and yet a bright and noble Genius shines thro’ these black Clouds.”
Colden had the wit to see that whatever made the Iroquois great: “It
was an affair of the mind.”’ I submit that this quality is what governs
the coherent character of Iroquois social structure, and their tendency
to systematize the elements of their culture into great institutional
showpieces is what has given their culture stability over the years.
This idea is not original. Simeon Gibson enunciated this principle
to me 15 years ago on the Grand River (Fenton, 1944), and recently
Dr. Shimony, in her brillant analysis of conservatism on the Six
Nations Reserve, reached a similar conclusion.
Just as 18th-century England had its cabinetmakers who produced
fine furniture, its painters, its playwrights and producers who gave
us Garrick’s Theater, its wits, its wags, its rakes, and its political
geniuses like Burke, so in the same century the Iroquois had Sir Wil-
liam Johnson, and Byrd and Atkin served the Cherokee. Likewise,
the Iroquoians developed some remarkable men of their own who
produced some spectacles and left some institutional showpieces.
These are: Clan Society, the League, the Condolence Council, the
annual cycle of maize and dream festivals, and the Handsome Lake
religion of the longhouse today. These five areas of institutional
behavior find their rationale in three long literary epics:
1. The Myth of the Earth Grasper or the beginnings of the world on the tur-
tle’s back
2. The Deganawidah Epic of the founding of the League of the People of the
Longhouse
3. kdiwi:yo:h, the revelation of Handsome Lake (Parker, 1913)
The first is the Iroquoian cosmology which contains the beginnings
of clan society—it defines the relationship of supernaturals to man,
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 261
and provides a formula for returning thanks which becomes the pat-
tern of sequence for conducting all Iroquois ceremonies (Hewitt, 1928).
The Deganawidah Epic goes back to protohistoric times when villages
were at war with one another; it tells how blood feud was composed
and how the then village chiefs became the chiefs of the new order.
The ceremonies for placating individual jealousies and installing chiefs
in office are accomplished through the ceremony of condolence and
requickening (Parker, 1916; Hewitt and Fenton, editors, 1944).
Anthony Wallace has recently shown that the second, like kéiwi:yo:h,
was a kind of revitalization movement (Wallace, 1958). Iroquois
political historians have themselves seen the analogy between it and
the Code of Handsome Lake which emerged from a period of individual
stress and cultural distortion at the very close of the 18th century
(Parker, 1913).
The three epics have two points in common which I stress for their
historical implications: first, they were recited at public gatherings
of more than a day’s duration; second, great heed was paid to ver-
batim recall and recitation. This last point is of some relevance.
Despite the tendency of 19th-century Iroquois philosophers to sys-
tematize their culture and read back into myths ceremonies which
were extant in their own time and social customs which had only re-
cently passed out of practice, the Code of Handsome Lake affords a
reasonable check on the accuracy of native tradition. The striking
resemblance between modern versions and contemporary diary ac-
counts of Handsome Lake’s revelation does endorse the value of
Iroquois tradition as a vehicle of history. Wallace has indicated
some critical cautions that may be employed to detect subsequent
distortions of a myth. Without implying that myths do not change
or that they may be accepted uncritically as history, I have made this
point because the main outlines of myths survive over long periods
of time and can be detected from fragments in earlier historic records.
I shall return to this in a moment.
Easier to detect in early historical records are some persistent themes
in Iroquois culture. These themes occur in individual, social, politi-
cal, and religious contexts. Perhaps Conrad Weiser knew something
of this when he said a European who wishes to stand well with them
must practice well the three following virtues: (1) speak the truth,
(2) give the best that he has, (3) show himself not a coward but coura-
geous in all cases (P. Wallace, 1945, p. 201). For, as Colden said, the
Iroquois considered themselves men surpassing all others. This
idea of personal and racial superiority over the white man persists
and manifests itself in the behavior and attitudes of Indianists today.
It operates as a kind of compensatory mechanism; given an ax and a
- gun he defeated his enemies; strong drink, and he brawled with his kin;
262 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
given an automobile, he went out and killed himself, or he took it out
in dangerous occupations. Morris Freilich has made a very reason-
able case for the persistence and transfer of attitudes and values of the
warrior pattern to work in high steel (Freilich, 1958).
The themes of courage and mind run concurrently through the liter-
ature to this day. ‘We are of one mind,” “Our minds are at rest,”
“Their minds are downcast”’ (mourning); “We lift up their minds”
(requicken their faculties), and in the treaties the hope is expressed
that ‘‘they shall hold this in their minds forever.”
Life and death are individual and social opposites. Love, luck, and
witchcraft go together with jealousy and revenge. “The world is
large but i will catch you,” says Jéwis to the Naked Bear, and so
Seneca warriors chased the Cherokee to the canebrakes of Georgia.
The corn, the beans, and the squash of women’s agriculture are “Our
life sustainers.”’ ‘Death, the faceless” stalks the trails and strikes
unexpectedly.
Helpfulness, charity, reciprocity, friendship, and adoption express
well the mutually binding ties between roles in a functioning society.
A cardinal feature of Iroqucis personal behavior and of ceremonialism
is to approach, hesitate until summoned, sit down across the fire, wait-
ing until one is served, first hear out one’s host, and then withdraw
again before responding in kind. Withdrawal is one of the most sub-
tle and yet fundamental patterns in all of Iroquois social behavior.
It runs from a visit to a friend in another village to the ritual of condol-
ence and installation.
Just as there are four ceremonies, there are also four cardinal prin-
ciples of Iroquois policy and these are dual concepts: (1) health, peace
(ske:no?), (2) strength, civil authority (ka?h4stesh#?), (3) truth, right-
eousness (k4iwi:yo:h), (4) the great law, or the commonwealth
(kayaneshe#?:ko:wa:h). These themes both exist on a worldly or polit-
ical level and attain a level of supernatural significance through the
Deganawidah Epic.
I do not know what is the special genius of the Cherokee except
their ability to survive in their mountain fastness of North Carolina
and their adaptiveness to contemporary society in Oklahoma. But
over the years I have collected Cherokee-Iroquois parallels. I was
impelled to do so because we were all impressed formerly with the
supposed Southeastern origin of Iroquois culture. The two areas
were supposed to be related because ultimately the same language was
spoken in both. But in reading the ethnological and historical liter-
ature, in making two brief field trips to the Cherokee, and while con-
versing with students of the Cherokee, I have failed to find anything
as definite as the resemblances between Iroquois and Delaware which
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 263
once were supposed not to be related. The parallels are tantalizing,
though, and I offer them for what they are worth.
Both peoples have a strong antipathy to whites; both cultures
prefer Appalachian habitats, and, as might be expected, common
botanical species have found similar uses in both areas. The herbalist
enjoys a prominent role socially in both societies. Possession by birds
and other animals was marked (Fenton, 1953). But masks and mask-
ing behavior, though present in both cultures, retain few fundamental
traits common to both areas, although the analogies are strong.?. In
reading Mooney and Olbrecht’s treatment of the medicines, however,
I sensed something very close to: my Seneca experiences. Where the
Cherokee are long on formula, the Seneca are much more systematic.
The northern Iroquois are the greater systematists, anyway. Chero-
kee culture, then, is individualized and the formulas are more rigidly
patterned. Iroquois society puts more store in group activity and less
on individual or private holinesses.
Some day I should like to know where the splint basketry industry
of the Northeast came from, whether it was introduced by the Swedes
on the Delaware. We do know that Indians of the neighborhood of
Albany, Mahikans and Oneida, first taught the Shakers in New York.’
Frank G. Speck once presented us with a tantalizing picture of the
relationships of cane basketry in eastern South America with that in
the Southeast and, in turn, of cane basketry in the Southeast and its
weaves with similar forms and techniques among the Northeastern
tribes where maize, beans, and squash are grown and gathered in these
utensils (Speck, 1920). If there were no historical records, we might
pursue this line of reasoning relentlessly and derive a great deal of
Iroquois culture through the Southeast from the forest of the eastern
Amazon via the Antilles.* Faint echoes in the language are supposed
to reverberate that way.
2‘«This is more evident when one has seen the more acculturated Nedrow [i.e., N.Y. Onondaga] masked
parodies. The greater organization of the Iroquois maskers relates to the comment on Iroquois systemati-
zation and group activity’? (G.P.K., personal communication). My own data on these contacts, from
interviews with Will West Long, and without seeing the Cherokee Booger Dance show little connection
between Cherokee and Iroquois maskers.
3 Personal communication, William I. Lassiter, New York State Museum: ‘Sister Sadie Neale (1849-
1948) . . . remembered when the Shakers at the Church Family, Mt. Lebanon, N.Y., were making 80 dif-
ferent types of baskets in their factory. It was at this time ... that the Indians probably taught the
Shakers to make baskets, and that the decorated splint baskets were Indian and not Shaker. These ‘‘Ma-
hican’’-type baskets could not have been Shaker-made, since their Millennial Laws forbade them to spend
time in useless ornamentation, to waste time in the decorating or creating of objects for beauty’ssake. This
was for the World’s people and not for the Believers in the Second Appearing of Christ (Shakers).
Eldress Anna Case, who died in 1938, . ... as achild in the South Family, Watervliet, . . . remembered
when the Indians stopped at the farm and exchanged their baskets, ete., with the Shakers for food.”
4 A more recent reevaluation of this question supports Speck’s comparison of Southeastern cane and North-
eastern splint basketry, but seriously questions ultimate relationship with South American basketry (Gog-
gin, 1949); and Sturtevant having lately reexamined the question of Antillean diffusion with entirely
negative results reeommends dropping this line of inquiry (Sturtevant, personal communication).
264. CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Hardly had the Journal of American Folklore been founded in 1888
when Hale (1888) and Mooney (1888, 1889) began to compare versions
of the creation legend from the Huron and Mohawk with variants
from the Cherokee. As might be expected, some of the folkloristic
concepts are amazingly close and are supported by parallel linguistic
terms. It is not strange that both peoples used the same species of
native tobacco and named it similarly. The myth of the beginning
of the Seneca women’s rite (yothowi:sas), which relates how two
sisters were captured during the Cherokee wars, is of a different order
(Mooney, 1900, pp. 365, 492). It is well nigh a historical legend, like
that of the beginnings of the Littlé Water Medicine Society in the
adventures of the good hunter who was scalped while raiding Cherokee
villages, was left for dead, and was afterward restored by the council
of mystic animals. To this cycle belong other tales of the wars.
Speck and Schaeffer’s attempt to link the mutual aid societies of
the Seneca with the Cherokee Gadugi raises more questions than it
answers. Both are societies that aid the poor, but, among the Seneca,
the society also sings for pleasure. ‘The reciprocal element of feast
for work is present in both groups. In the north, it grew out of
groups of men who helped the women of the clan to whom they had
the misfortune to be married. Institutionalized cooperation and poor
relief is deeply embedded in Iroquoian culture. The authors held
that the Cherokee case, stripped of accretions, such as mutual exchange
of services for economic ends, equates essentially with the women’s
mutual aid company composed of men married into a clan (Speck and
Schaeffer, 1945). I should rather think that the pattern involved is
voluntary association of individuals, probably communitywide, organ-
ized under the supervision of a leader and several assistants to carry
on mutual aid or relief activities within the locality on a reciprocal
basis, and that this pattern was widespread in the Eastern Woodlands.
That it happens to survive or coexist among Cherokee and Seneca
is to be expected if it were widespread, or possibly because it came
about in response to similar needs. Fogelson and Kutsche have pre-
sented the case for convergence in this volume.
I consider in the same order of validity Witthoft and Hadlock’s
attempt to link up the “‘little people’? who in both areas were believed
to inhabit rocky places, or high cliffs from which they threw stones
at people. Only in the north did this association with humans result
in a society to befriend hunters. As the latter authors indicate,
this concept was widespread in the Eastern Woodlands. Their
Cayuga informant, Deskahe, theorized that the reason we no longer
meet little people in the woods is because they have retired in the
face of settlement and, consequently, are no longer visible to men
(Witthoftfand Hadlock, 1946).
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 265
A better case can be made for a number of specific spirits. Both
languages lack a distinct word for sun and moon, calling them day
sun and night sun, whereas in the north the moon is grandmother, in
the south, moon is brother of sun. But even this parallel becomes
diffuse, since Mikasuki Seminole and Choctaw also lack separate
terms, both saying “sun” and “night sun.’”’ With the former, sun is
female and moon male,° as is also the case among central Algon-
quians *—both the reverse of the Iroquois usage.
Fire is more prominent in Cherokee culture. The river is an im-
portant idea in Cherokee theology. Going to the river suggests the
Troquois practice of taking water with the running stream in making
medicine. Both peoples speak of the thunders as voices that rever-
berate in the west and in both cosmologies they have to do with
exterminating disease. Although the Cherokee have a well-developed
and inordinate belief in ghosts, there is nothing like the Feast of the
Dead still practiced among the Iroquois. Four is a sacred number
in both cultures; but seven is more so in Cherokee, as are multiples
of twelve. Seven scarcely occurs in Iroquois culture, but four and
eight are the magic numbers.
In matters of ceremony and belief, according to Gilbert (19438), the
Cherokee differed little from the rest of the Southeast: the Green
Corn Feast, Sacred Ark, New Fire Rite, Religious Regard for the Sun,
Divining Crystals, Scarification, Priesthood, Animal Spirit, Theory
of Disease, certain medical practices. But there are no animal medi-
cine societies as in the North. A few myths are reminiscent of the
Troquois but the bulk are of the Southeastern animal tale type.
SPECIAL PROBLEMS
Any consideration of Iroquoian culture history that seeks to com-
pare the state of knowledge of the Cherokee with their northern
brethren encounters some special problems. These problems are pri-
marily of a methodological sort which ethnologists in the past century
have faced or disregarded if they sought to compare the results ob-
tained from the study of surviving cultures with the historical records
of these institutions in the past. If anthropologists, indeed, are
historically minded, no other field presents them with a greater op-
portunity or challenge, if not outright frustration. The Iroquoianist
is, perforce, somewhat of a linguist, a fieldworker, a habitué of libraries
and archives, and if not an antiquarian, he is at least a book collector.
In working both ends of the time span stretching from the first
historical records to his living informants, the ethnologist soon finds
5 Sturtevant, personal communication.
¢ Kurath, personal communication.
266 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
himself caught in the stability and change paradox. He notes per-
sistent themes that run through all the literature. He finds parts of
institutions which seem to have great depth, but the fundamental
discontinuity of historical and ethnological literatures make it diffi-
cult for him to interpret the past in terms of the present or to share
the abiding enthusiasm of 19th-century ethnologists—Morgan, Hale,
Hewitt—and of Speck and himself in his own day, that the rich eth-
nological fare which he has experienced is actually a survival from an
earlier day. He wonders whether it possibly represents a reformula-
tion of older cultural materials in order to preserve some measure of
Indianness and to save the Indian’s own self in response to white
civilization pressing in upon the reservation from all sides. Nothing
provides a greater thrill than tracing out the roots of contemporary
Indian institutions and finding the same pattern of activity at two
ends of the time span extending over several hundred years. But in
advancing against the stream of chronology one overlooks the great
cultural shifts that have occurred since prehistoric times.
Beauchamp first noted, and Ritchie has since demonstrated, the
shift of settlement types in the Northeast from small nucleated ham-
lets to the larger stockaded villages made up of longhouses. Beau-
champ also noted the recency of Iroquoian sites as compared with
older cultures in the area.
With the coming of the whites came a radical shift in material
culture. Though MclIlwain (1915) and Hunt (1940) are credited
with riding the horse of economic determinism and pointing out that
the trade in furs was a much more important factor in the continuing
alliance of the League of the Iroquois with the whites at Albany than
the revenge of Champlain’s ill-advised assistance to the Huron and
Algonkians in 1609 (my review of Hunt in American Anthropologist,
1940, p. 662), it was George Hllis, a Harvard historian writing for
Justin Winsor’s ‘Narrative and Critical History of America,’’? who
anticipated them and first stated the nature of the cultural revolution
(Ellis, 1889, pp. 286, 303):
A metal kettle, a spear, a knife, a hatchet, transformed the whole life of the
savage. A blanket was to him a whole wardrobe. When he came to be the pos-
sessor of firearms . . ., having before regarded himself the equal to the white
man, he at once became his superior.
With such radical shifts in economy to trading and dependence on
metal tools, we may expect comparable shifts in social structure and
political organization. Because of the perennial interest in the status
of women at the turn of the present century, ethnologists were in-
clined to assume that the strong political position of Iroquois women
had not changed materially from what it had been in the 17th and 18th
centuries. Taking off from Hewitt and Goldenweiser’s data, we are
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 267
delighted to find Samuel Kirkland’s account of how the ‘‘she sachems”’
at Onondaga had censured the Cayuga Nation for allowing their
young men to go out with the Shawnees in Dunmore’s war of 1774
(Fenton, 1949, p. 237). But in a recent provocative paper, Richards
(1957) has questioned: Is the idea of matriarchy a mistake? Dr.
Richards demonstrates, to her satisfaction at least, that all of the
sources show a gradual increase in the decision-making power of
women and a corresponding loss by men, and that this shift was a
product of the two centuries of conflict.
If Lafitau, like Morgan, and Hewitt after them, sin in exaggerating
the rising power of the Iroquois matron in a society which was losing
its male population, Lafitau did discover the classificatory kinship
system a century before Morgan and indicated that it was of a type
that we now know as Iroquois-Dakota (Lafitau, 1724, vol. 1, pp. 552-
553; Tax, 1955, p. 446).” At this early date, the Iroquois segregated
and distinguished differential behavior for four sets of relatives along
clan lines. A joking relationship persists among the Seneca whose
fathers are of the same clan—between two men, or between a man and
a woman—which is reminiscent of Gilbert’s description of the five-
fold joking relationships among the Cherokee and the Creek, which
comprise:
(a) persons having parents of the same clan, (b) children and their mother’s clans-
people, (c) all persons whose fathers belonged to the same clan, (d) persons and
their father’s fathers, and (e) persons and those women who had married into the
father’s clan. ([Gilbert, 7n Eggan, 1955, p. 336.]
But the Iroquois kinship system is northern and does not distinguish
patrilateral from matrilateral cross cousins or their descent from
mother’s brother or father’s sister. Southeastern systems to which
the Cherokee belong distinguish one lineage of cross cousins from the
other.2 And Eggan has recently said, the parallels between Iroquois,
Ojibwa, and Daketa kinship terminology may be further reinforced
by a discovery that Iroquoissocial structure may turn out to havebeen
based on cross-cousin marriage. This northern affinity in social
structure also supports the belief of certain archeologists that Iro-
quois culture developed in the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence watershed
7“ , . among the Iroquois and Huron, all the children of a household regard as their mothers all their
mother’s sisters, and as their uncles, all their mother’s brothers; for the same reason they give the name of
fathers to all their father’s brothers and of aunts to all their father’s sisters. All the children on the side of
the mother and her sisters, of the father and his brothers, look upon each other likewise as brothers and sis-
ters; but, in respect to the children of their uncles and aunts, that is to say of their mother’s brothers and
their father’s sisters, they hold them only on the footing of cousins, although the degree of relationship is the
Same aS with those whom they regard as their brothers and sisters. In the third generation this changes,
the great-uncles and great-aunts become again grandfathers‘and grandmothers, of the children of those whom
they call nephews and nieces. This continues always in the descending line according to the same rule.’
[Lafitau, 1724, vol. 1, pp. 552-553; Tax, 1955, p. 446.]
8 The other is not a lineage, but a heterogeneous aggregate.—F. G. L.
536135—61 18
268 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
rather than having been imported wholesale from elsewhere (Eggan, 1955,
p.548). May we infer from this that if the Cherokee and Iroquois once
had a common kinship system, it should be the least differentiated,°
and, therefore, of the northern type; and that the Cherokee acquired a
Crow-type of kinship system from their neighbors after moving into
the Southeast where the basic eight-clan system is at home? But this
presents a problem, since the Cherokee have only seven clans and lack
moieties, and the northern Seneca have eight clans in two moieties;
but the Seneca are not organized into a red and white moiety system
like the Creeks.
In the light of Gearing’s paper on the rise of the Cherokee state, I
should like to raise the perennial question: How old is the League of
the Iroquois? Does Gearing’s hypothesis offer any help or throw any
light on this problem? I think it does.
He says in part, “‘. . . naive states may arise out of segmentary
societies when ranking lineages or clans gain monopoly over functions
deemed vital, ... and... gain coercive leverage over lesser line-
ages...’ The Cherokee tribe wasnot asegmentary society, although
Merlin Myers saw the Iroquois in thislight after training at Cambridge
University. Second, they arise out of voluntary association of com-
munities as coequals, i.e., the village confederacy, which is the Iro-
quois case as in the Cherokee. The career has four parts, one of which
is the five features of the communities that join: (1) conscious distinc-
tion between two kinds of tasks: (a) by command, and (6) through
voluntary consensus (with the sanction of withdrawal of partici-
pation) ; (2) the population is distributed between the two sets of tasks;
(3) the system distinguishes jobs in two classes and distributes’?
personnel; (4) leadership is achieved and not ascribed by birth, with
two entering sets of qualifications—egocentric courage for command,
and restraint for leadership in tasks demanding voluntary consensus;
(5) great honor is bestowed on the last.
Since by Gearing’s affirmation ‘Any society is a candidate for ad-
mission which has a peace chief and a war chief, or inside and outside
chiefs, and which utilizes as its major sanction a loose form of ostra-
® Can the Iroquois kinship system really be said to be “‘least differentiated’’ in comparison with Cherokee
(Crow-type), when the Iroquois pattern has more basic kin categories than the Crow pattern? What is
intended here must be what happens in Ego’s generation, part of which is merged with parental-generation
categories and part with filial-generation categories, resulting in more categories intersecting this one gener-
ation.—F. G. L., personal correspondence.
10 You read my item 2 with the mental set that Cherokees have moities, but they donot. Ali the literature
says they do, and I did not explicitly say in my original paper the contrary, which left my intent dim. The
idea is that all the village is at one moment one set of personnel and that all those same individuals are at
a second moment a second set of personnel, like when professors disperse at five and become fathers and hus-
bands. Finally, my item 3 becomes now clearer. While all individuals are involved in both systems of
personnel, some individuals precipitate as leaders in one set and usually other individuals in the second set.
(F. G., personal communication, July 7, 1959.)
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 269
cism,’”’ I submit both Taos Pueblo and the League of the Iroquois for
candidacy and argue the last (Fenton, 1957).
The Iroquois case fits all of these criteria save one. In later days,
at least, the Sachems, ‘‘Lords of the League,” or Federal Chiefs, the
hotiyanésho?9h, who bear the titles of the original founders of the
League, and who are indeed the peace chiefs, have their offices ascribed
by birth into certain clans that possess the titles over and against
other clans and lineages. Actually we know that this is not invariably
true even in modern times because the titles are passed from lineage to
lmeage and from clan to clan in the same moiety when a suitable
candidate is lacking in the first lmeage or when ‘‘the ashes of that
fireside become cold’’—a maternal lineage is extinguished. The
original incumbents in these titles were the then existing village chiefs.
Throughout history there has been much shifting from clan to clan
until it is imposible to tell the original ascriptions. Great personal
restraint, equability, and imperviousness to gossip are prime criteria;
ageressiveness, too great ability, impetuousness are fatal. Without
laying aside the antlers of office, League Chiefs might not take up the
warpath.
Except that white is the symbol of peace, and red of war, the north-
ern Iroquois do not follow the Southeastern custom of denominating
White and Red tasks, moieties, or offices. Since the war chiefs
rose to prominence by their deeds in time of war, they emerged from a
younger age grade. ‘They brooked little control even in times of peace,
when they were continually slipping out of the hands of the sachems,
their numbers increased rapidly during periods of prolonged warfare,
and they were a nuisance when it came to settling a treaty and had
to be put in their place by the proper sachems and the women. Corn-
planter and Brant were of this class.
A third class of chiefs, the so-called Pine Tree chiefs, were chiefs of
merit and the office died with the holder. These were statuses
achieved for general qualities of mind, wisdom in council, and ability
to speak. They were speakers for the League council, for the council
of warriors, and often the council of women. Red Jacket was of this
class.
There was a fourth class of chiefs who, by virtue of age and wisdom,
constituted the popular council of the village, and their meetings, as
described by La Potherie and Lafitau in the first decades of the 18th
century, heard speakers from the League, the warrior’s and women’s
councils who were represented by appointed deputies. Lafitau
compared this assembly with the Roman Senate:
It is a greasy assemblage sitting sur leur derriére, crouched like apes, their knees
as high as their ears, or lying, some on their bellies, some on their backs, each with
a pipe in his mouth, discussing affairs of state with as much coolness and gravity
270 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
as Spanish Junta or the Grand Council of Venice. [Lafitau, 1724, vol. 1, p. 478,
in Parkman, 1895, p. 58.]
Neither Perrot nor La Potherie, who were Colden’s sources among
French writers, nor Lafitau (whom Colden seems not to have seen
though he published 3 years after him) describes a council of the
League of the Five Nations meeting at Onondaga, but they all
say the Iroquois are Five Nations who comprise one household; nor
do I recall from any source anything as specific and detailed as the
ethnological accounts of meetings of the Grand Council which Morgan,
Hale, Beauchamp, Hewitt, and the writer had from living sources in
the last century. This information was collected independently at
Tonawanda, a Seneca community, at Onondaga, N.Y., and on the
Six Nations Reserve on Grand River, where Brant’s followers settled
after the American Revolution. ‘The League cannot be the figment
of ethnologists’ imagination, nor can it be the fruit of a nativistic
movement after dispersal of the tribes in 1784. The Handsome Lake
religion is recent; but the League is loaded down with too much intel-
lectual, literary, and ritualistic baggage to be a recent production.
It seems not to have been a 19th-century integration in response to
military defeat.
For the benefit of historians and other ethnologists who im reading
the historical sources have encountered a similar malaise in not bemg
able to identify its institutions in the earlier literature, there are four
things to look for, in whole or in part:
1. The tradition of the founding of the League: the Deganawidah Legend
2. The Roll Call of the Founders: the 50 titles distributed among 5 tribes
(Fenton, 1950)
3. The Condolence or Requickening Address
4. Conventions at Onondaga, with dates, at which some measure of unanimity
was achieved
Iroquois sources in the 18th century did not place the beginning of
their confederacy more than a generation before the coming of the
white people. Readers familiar with various published versions of
the tradition will recognize the plot and characters in the version pub-
lished by John Heckewelder in 1819 after a manuscript of his Moravian
brother, John Christopher Pyrlaeus, who under the direction of Con-
rad Weiser, the Pennsylvania interpreter, made a mission to the Mo-
hawk in 1743 (Heckewelder, 1881, pp. xxviii, 56, 96).
The alliance or confederacy of the Five Nations was established, as near as can
be conjectured, one age (or the length of a man’s life) before the white people
(the Dutch) came into the country. Thannawage was the name of the aged
Indian, a Mohawk, who first proposed such an alliance . . . The names of the
chiefs of the Five Nations, which at that time met and formed the alliance (were):
Toganawita, of the Mohawks; Otatschéchta, of the Oneida; Tatotarho, of the
Onondagas; Togahdyon, of the Cayugas; Ganiatarid and Satagartyes, from two
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 271
towns of the Senecas, &c . . . All these names are forever to be kept in remem-
brance, by naming a person in each nation after them, &c. [Heckewelder, 1881,
p. 56 ftnt.]
Later, Heckewelder says that the Delaware always considered the
Iroquois to be one people, Mengwe, but that the English called them
Five Nations, probably to magnify their importance as allies (ibid., p.
96). Then he goes on to quote Pyrlaeus’ informant, a Mohawk chief.
They then gave themselves the name Aquanoshioni, which means one house, one
family, and consisted of the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagoes, Cayugas, and Sene-
eas. This alliance having been first proposed by a Mohawk chief, the Mohawks
rank in the family as the eldest brother, the Oneidas, as the eldest son; the Senecas
who were the last who had at that time consented to the alliance, were called the
youngest son; but the Tuscaroras, who joined the confederacy probably one
hundred years afterwards, assumed that name, and the Senecas ranked in preced-
ence before them, as being the next youngest son, or as we would say, the young-
est son but one.
Zeisberger, who knew the Onondagas well enough to write a dictionary,
supports his colleague by saying:
. . . Lhe Iroquois call themselves Aquanoschioni, which means united people,
having united for the purpose of always reminding each other that their safety and
power consist in a mutual and strict adherence to their alliance. Onondago is
their chief town. All of these were originally tribes of one people who united as
a nation for mutual defence. [Heckewelder, 1881, pp. 96-97.]
The League then had arisen out of voluntary association of com-
munities; it was a “league of ragged villages,” as Franklin said. The
conditions are more important than the exact date on which this event
occurred. I have always considered Beauchamp’s conclusion, that
the true date of confederacy lies between 1570 and 1600 (Beauchamp,
1905, p. 153), as reasonable in the light of the evidence from arche-
ology (the position and number of prehistoric Mohawk sites); of
linguistics (the anomaly of the Laurentian dialect); of history (the
evacuation of the Laurentians); and native tradition of the diaspora.
Let us fashionably say, 1600 plus or minus 30 years! Secondly, by
anology with the Handsome Lake religion, which has been remem-
bered verbatim these 160 years, weuld not the Mohawks of Pyrlaeus’
day be entitled to the same credit?
The roll call of the 50 founders, which was chanted on the path to
the village of mourning nations, eluded early writers who record some
aspects of the procession. Conrad Weiser and Sir William Johnson
were familiar with its forms and themselves performed it on occasion.
In 1756, Sir William marched on at the Head of the Sachems singing
the condoling song which contains the names, laws, and customs of
their renowned ancestors (O’Callaghan, vol. 7, p. 133 in Beauchamp,
1907, p. 393). And his Journal of Indian Affairs for April 1765 carries
a petition from the Onondaga presenting young men, recently ap-
Die CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
pointed sachems, to fill vacancies in the Onondaga Council and their
guardians. I recognize the names and clans of the seven young men
as titles still on the Onondaga Councilroster (Johnson, 1921-57, vol. 11,
p. 709; Fenton, 1950). Other titles occur at random through the colonial
records and seldom in clusters which so readily fit the Roll Call as
known to ethnology.
The Requickening Address of the Condolence Council was a cere-
monial form of greeting for friend and stranger and its use was early
and widespread in the Eastern Woodlands. It may be older than the
League itself. Its theme was death, mourning, and restoration of
the faculties of the grieving; 1t wiped away tears, opened the ears,
and cleared the throat; restored sight of the sun, dispelling darkness
of death; wiped the bloody mat; covered the grave, etc., in 14 or more
ritual speeches, each accompanied by a wampum string or belt.
Having lifted up the downcast mourning minds, the stage was set for
requickening a living person in the place of the dead; for restoration
of peace and the resumption of trade, in place of war. What had been
the plot of great pre-Columbian drama festivals in forested settings
of mounds and formal walkways became the literature of the council
fire which Franklin captured and published (Boyd and Van Doren,
1938). The Mohawks treated the French to the ceremony at Three
Rivers in 1645, and Hunt, though most critical of the League’s failures,
has given the best evidence of its forms (Hunt, 1940, pp. 77-78).
Hunt has a point, because the League did not function to achieve
unanimity of purpose and coordinate action until late in the 17th
century. ‘Though the Five Nations are first named in a Dutch jour-
nal of 1635, its author seemed unaware of what he heard sung at
Oneida. The Relation of 1654 says they call themselves Hotinnon-
chiendi, “the finished cabin, as if. . . only one family” and describes
several features: the calling the roll, condolence, and a grand council.
But 1660 is the first Dutch record of confederate council at Onondaga,
toward the close of the Beaver Wars, after which the chiefs came down
to Albany with one voice to plant the tree of peace and bury the
hatchet. For a number of years, the New York Indian records carry
explicit allusions to the League Council meetings, as for example,
May 5, 1694:
“The Five Nations reply [to the Governor of New York at Albany].
. . . Before the Christians [first] arrival [in this Country] the 5
Nations held their General Meeting at Onondaga where from the
beginning there has been a Continual Fire’? (McIlwain, 1915, p. 24).
Thereafter, there are three 18th-century meetings recorded by Weiser,
in 1743 (Wallace, 1945, pp. 162-168), Kirkland (MS.), and Guy
Johnson in 1774 (O’Callaghan, 1857, vol. 8, p. 524), at which the
Founding of the League and its laws were rehearsed before taking up
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 273
the agenda. Though these accounts are sparse on detail, it is evident
that the League was functioning, that it reached policy leading to
action, and that what was later local government on the Six Nations
Reserve originated in the 17th and 18th centuries; and though not as
grand or glorious as its poor descendants regard it in retrospect, it
was nevertheless formidable and as effective as governments are. If
anything, it fitted Gearing’s paradigm admirably.
NEXT STEPS IN RESEARCH
What then are the principal research needs in this field?
1. An exploration of the origin of the Iroquois might afford the topic
for a workshop of a week’s duration. Lounsbury and Ritchie suggest
the need, and it is recommended that a panel like the present sympo-
sium might possess the competence to define the problem, identify
objectives, and suggest ways of attaming them within our time.
2. Among programs of library, museum, and field studies and jobs
of writing the following list covers the principal tasks:
(a) Compiling a central register of items of Iroquois material culture in the
world’s collections, comprising pertinent accession records and 35 mm.
photographs of the specimens, is the first step toward preparing a mono-
graph on the arts and industries of the aborigines of the elm and pine for-
ests bordering the Great Lakes.
(b) Iroquoian culture history can be documented period by period and illus-
trated by the radical changes in arts and crafts and the objects of the
trade.
(c) A study to be done mainly in libraries is the preparation of a political
history of intertribal relations and contacts with the whites. But even
this requires the perspective of the museum and the field.
(d) Preparation and publication of long ritual texts such as the Code of
' Handsome Lake, the Deganawidah epic, the religious ceremonies, and
the rituals of the council fire combine field work with the use of docu-
ments.
(e) A special opportunity for the testing of ethnohistorical techniques is
presented by the challenge of excellent documentary records for both the
Seneca Nation and the Six Nations of Canada, which in turn can be
compared with the course of government among the Five Civilized Tribes
of Oklahoma. There are unworked archival resources at Gowanda, N.Y.,
Brantford, Canada, and Tulsa, Okla.
3. Thecomparative linguistics of the Iroquoian family deserves spe-
cial consideration. A number of the languages are still spoken, and
early sources for Mohawk and Onondaga invite comparison and sug-
gest that rate of linguistic change can be measured with controlled
dates. And vocabularies and grammars exist for several extinct
languages. Among the archival resources, which should be used, are
the Jesuit archives in Montreal, the John Carter Brown Library, the
Moravian Archives at Bethlehem, Pa., the Library of the American
274 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM _[B.A.E. Bull. 180
Philosophical Society, and the archives of the Bureau of American
Ethnology. This family should shortly be as well known as Algon-
quian.
4, Fellowships. Some of the best scholars in this field have been
siphoned off into teaching and administrative posts. Fellowships
will assist graduate students to undertake work at museums, in librar-
ies, and in the field but there is a more crucial need to provide sab-
batical leaves from administrative and teaching duties to allow
scholars to renew their craft and complete major writing projects.
A research professorship in ethnohistory at a university near library
and archival resources would bring this interdisciplinary cross to
maturity. ‘Teaching a seminar would bring the scholar into touch
with students and the stimulation of contact with faculty in related
disciplines. And in turn the cure for the weariness of teaching may
lie in the quiet of the museum or library, which suggests that these
institutions might consider extending annual fellowships to mature
scholars to work on their collections. A sabbatical year to work in
the archives of the Bureau of American Ethnology or in the Library
of the American Philosophical Society would be mutually profitable
to the institution and to the fellowship holder.
5. A handbook of the Indians of the Eastern Woodlands of North
America would go far toward fulfilling the need for an up-to-date
edition of the Bureau of American Ethnology’s famous Bulletin 30,
‘Handbook of American Indians North of Mexico,” which would
assume vast proportions if done for the content in our present state
of knowledge. An Eastern Woodlands handbook might later be
followed by a handbook of the Plains, or the Southwest, but here needs
are not as crucial because the literature is not as abundant or nearly
as confusing. The Bureau itself might appropriately consider such a
project as fitting into its long-range program. Leadership is not
likely to arise beyond the means of fulfillment. No other institution
has the resources or the tradition.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BraucuHamp, W. M.
1905. A history of the New York Iroquois: now commonly called the Six
Nations. New York State Mus. Bull. 78.
1907. Civil, religious and mourning councils and ceremonies of adoption of
the New York Indians. New York State Mus. Bull. 113.
Boyp, Jutian P., and Van Doren, Cart, Eprrors.
1938. Indian treaties printed by Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia.
CoLpEN, CADWALLADER.
1866. The history of the Five Indian Nations depending on the Province of
New York. John Gilmary Shea, ed., New York. (lst ed. New
York, 172%.)
No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON 275
Eaaan, Frep, Eprror.
1955. Social anthropology of North American tribes. 574 pp. (Enl.
ed.) Chicago.
Eurs, Georace E.
1889. The Red Indian of North America in contact with the French and
English. In Narrative and critical history of America, Justin
Winsor, ed., vol. 1, pp. 283-328.
Fenton, W. N.
1940 a. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Iro-
quois. Smithsonian Mise. Coll., vol. 100, pp. 159-251.
1940 b. Review: The wars of the Iroquois, by George T. Hunt. Amer.
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vol. 46, pt. 1, pp. 231-234.
1949. Collecting materials for a political history of the Six Nations. Proc.
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1953. The Iroquois Eagle Dance: An offshoot of the Calumet Dance. With
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1958. Cultural persistence among the modern Iroquois. Anthropos, vol. 53,
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1943. The Eastern Cherokees. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop.
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HECKEWELDER, JOHN,
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1928. Iroquoian cosmology. Pt. 2. 43d Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol.,
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1945. Some mnemonic pictographs relating to the Iroquois condolence coun-
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276 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180
Hunt, Grorce T.
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JOHNSON, SiR WILLIAM.
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ns
: Bere 3
INDEX
Abenaki (Abnaki) Indians, 48, 73
Aboriginal religious system, preserva-
tion of, 216
Abortions, 145
Acculturation, effects of, 98-100
Acolapissa Indians, 79
Adair, James, information from, 88, 90,
94, 95, 96, 112, 230, 231
Adams, Robert M., information from,
127, 131, 132, 133
Adirondacks, see Algonquian.
Adoption, 233
Adz, beveled, 49
Aggressiveness, outlets for, 251
Agricultural magic, 222
Agricultural organizations, cooperative,
112, 118
Agricultural practices, 75, 99, 100
Agriculture, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 111,
112, 148, 150, 161, 162, 200, 202,
250
bean, 31, 94, 95, 111, 185, 263
corn, 31, 95, 96, 97, 104, 108, 111,
114, 185, 222
squash, 31, 95, 195, 263
Alabama Indians, 202
Albemarle sites, 71
Algonkian-Gulf languages, 22
Algonkian-Mosan superstock, 21
Algonkian-Ritwan stock, 21
Algonquian Delaware, 64
Algonquian (Algonkian) Indians, 27, 29,
42, 48, 55, 56, 113, 118, 180, 181,
182, 183, 184, 185, 188, 191, 199,
200, 202, 203, 259, 265, 266, 274
American "Anthropological Association,
? ? ?
American citizenship, steps toward, 163
American Philosophical Society, Phillips
Fund of, 177
American Revolution, effects on Cher--
okee, 98.
Anasazi area, 48
Animal drives, 94
Animals, domestication of, 94, 146
Animal Spirit, 265
Annis site, 49
Anti-Christianity, relation to Indianism,
156
Antler strips, Lamoka notched, 49
Apalachee Indians, 63, 64
Apples, cultivated, 104
Aquanoschiono, Indian name for Five
Nations, 271
Archaic Period, 59, 200, 201
Arnold, J. R., and Libby, W. F.,
mation from, 29
Arrowheads, use in divination, 223
Atehoumwin, 184
Atkins, John, 87, 215
?ato:we?, Indian chant, 184, 185
infor-
Aunts, 267
Authority, vested in men’s council, 102
Awls, 49
Axes, 96
Babies, relations with mother, 233, 234
Bainbridge site, 33
Ball field, 91, 101
Ball game, 93, 97, 102, 110, 178, 219,
231, 251
ceremonialism, 93, 208, 218, 219,
223, 224
Ball teams, 232
Baptists, 102, 162, 163, 164
Barn ou victor, information from, 229,
Barrie-Uren complex, 32
Barton, Frederick R., information from,
83
Bartram, William, information from 53,
54, 55, 57, 90, 92, 98, 95, 96, 97,
110, 112, 179, 230, 2381, 241
Basketry, cane, 263
splint, 263
Bates site, 34, 35
Beads, divination by, 223
Beans, see Agriculture.
Bears, 93, 187, 202
Beauchamp, W. M., information from,
28, 266, 270, 271
Beaver Wars, 272
Beech trees, 259
Bees, see Working bees.
Bent, Arthur C., information from, 93
Berries, wild, 94
Biard, ees Pierre, information from,
4
Bibliography, 7-8, 17, 23, 36-38, 49-50,
60, 65, 76, 118-121, 134, 151, 157,
166, 171, "188-191, 203 3-204, 225,
235- 237, 245-246, 252, 274-277
Big Cove, Eastern Cherokee com-
munity, 87, 88, 101, 102, 105, 106,
107, 108, 122, 230, 232, 233, 234,
235, 243, 344
Birds, wild, 94
Birdtown, Cherokee village, 101, 115
Black Fox, Rev., Indian preacher, 220
Blair, Emma Helen, information from,
27, 184
Blanket, 266
ETCaD EY Sherman, information from,
201
Bloom, Leonard, information from, 101
Bloomfield, Leonard, information from,
17
Blowguns, 94, 260
Blueberries, 185
Boggs, Stephen T., information from,
170, 229, 230
279
280
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
“Boogers,’”’? mimics, 177, 178, 181, 182, | Ceremonies—Continued
186, 192 (music), 263
Bows, 93
Box suppers, 109
Boyd, Julian P., and Van Doren, Carl,
information from, 272
Brant, Joseph, Indian leader, 146, 170,
171, 269, 270
Broom, Leonard, information from, 5,
7
Brown, A. F., information from, 113
Buck, George, Indian singer, 194, 195
Buck, Joshua, Cayuga singer, 192, 194
Buffalo, 93
Buffalo Creek Reservation, loss of, 149,
156, 157
Burbet, Governor, 260
Bureau of American Ethnology library,
274
Burial customs, 183-184
Burial mounds, small conical, 59
Burials, flexed, 31
Burling, Dr. Robbins, 87
Burning, annual, brush, 94, 106
Busk, harvest festival, 96, 183, 185, 187
Byers, Douglas 8.: Second Comment on
William A. Ritchie’s ‘Iroquois
Archeology and Settlement Pat-
terns,’’ 45-50
Byers, Douglas S., information from, 42
Cabins, log, 90
Caddoan languages, 21
Caddo Indians, 29
Calusa Indians, 79
Canandaigua site, 35
Capron, Louis, information from, 185
Cards, 1
Carrington, —, 104
Cartier, Jacques, 28
Cartier vocabularies, 15
Carver, Jonathan, information from, 242
Castle Creek site, New York State,
29, 34
Catawba Indians, 58, 59, 63, 64, 65, 73,
102, 202
Catlin, George, information from, 181
Cattaraugus Reservation, 149
Cattle, domesticated, 94, 104, 146
Caudill, William, information from, 229
Cave sites, 56
Cayuga, Cowskin, of Oklahoma, 185
Cayuga Indians, 12, 13, 15, 16, 28,
210, 257, 264, 267, O71
Cayuga-Seneca, 30
Cemeteries, native, 31
Ceramics, Troquois, 32, 33, 65
Ceramic styles, Cherokee, 63, 64, 65
Ceremonial ground, 165
Ceremonial revival, 169
Ceremonials, 161, 164, 231
Ceremonies, Big House, 181, 184
curative, 179
dream, 178
fire, 178
Food Spirit, 179
green corn, 179
medicine and mortuary, 178
summer, 179
Thanks to the Maple Feast, 181
See also Rites.
Chafe, Wallace L., 7, 21, 200
Chafe, Wallace L.: Comment on An-
thony F. C. Wallace’s ‘“‘Cultural
Composition of the Handsome
Lake Religion,” 153-157
Champlain, Samuel de, explorer, 28, 266
Change, Persistence, and Accommoda-
tion in Cherokee Medico-Magi-
cal Beliefs, by Raymond D.
Fogelson, 215-225
Chapayekas, Yaqui, 182
Charlevoix, quoted in Waugh, 185
Charms, 202
Chenango River,
York, 34
Cherokee, 5, 6, 7, 11, 12, 22, 28, 29, 41,
42, 48, 54, 57, 63, 70, 72, 74, 79,
80, 98, 161, 162, 170, 178, 179,
180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186,
187, 188, 199, 200, 202, 203, 216,
21 9)°220;- 221, 222) 223, 224.230:
231, 232, 234, 235, 241, 242, 243,
244, 249, 250, 251, 257, 258, 259,
260, 262, 263, 264, 267, 268
civil war between, 162
communal agriculture, 99, 100
communities, 72
comparative evidence, 110-118
councils, 133, 162, 163
culture history, 161, 162, 165, 169,
170, 215, 216, 251, 257-277
dances, 179-180
education of, 99, 162
family relations, 242
farmsteads, 98
fullblood party, 162, 163, 164, 165
herbalism, 69, 75, 216
language, 14 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 22,
49
life patterns, 69
manufactures, 102
migrations, 54, 55, 215, 216, 217,
259
nativistic movement, 161
personality, 241 (list), 244
personality traits, 229-237
political structure, 91, 99, 102, 103,
125-134, 161, 162
religion, 102, 162
removal to Indian Territory, 100
south-central New
Cherokee:
Eastern, 5, 6, 87, 102, 103, 112, 115,
215, 217, 222, 225
Lower, 88
Middle Settlements, 99, 101
North Carolina, 69
Oklahoma, 161, 165
Western, 103
INDEX
Cherokee Archeology, by Joffre L. Coe,
51-60
Comment on, by Charles H. Fair-
banks, 61-65
Cherokee Economic Cooperatives: The
Gadugi, by Raymond D. Fogel-
son and Paul Kutsche, 83-123
Choro Se aualae speaking people,
25
Cherokee-Iroquois parallels, 177-180
Cherokee-Iroquois separation, 64
Cherokee-Iroquois Symposium, 6, 7
Cherokee-Iroquois wars, 260
Cherokee-Mound Builder group, 29
Cherokee of North Carolina, 5
Cherokee of Oklahoma, 5
Cherokee: Overhill, 88, 89, 90
Cherokee State, 127, 132
Cherokee towns, 18-century, 88-98
Cherokee: Underhill, 59
feusror ee West,’”’ Cherokee emigrants,
9
Chestnut blight, effect of, 106
Cheyenne Indians, 131
Chickasaw Indians, 79, 111
Chicken, Col. George, information from,
Chiefs, council of, 33, 91, 102, 103, 149,
244, 260, 261
community or lead, 102
Chieftainship, hereditary, 207
Children, Cherokee, 233
duties of, 109
punishment of, 145
training of, 233, 244, 245
Chiltoski (Falling Corn-Tassel),
“lead chief,’”’ 102
Chippewa Indians, 182, 229, 230, 242
Chocea pedis, 79, 80, 182, 186, 202,
6
last
Christianity, relation to Indians, 147,
, 156, 220
Christmas clubs, 232
Church congregations, 232
Church meetings, 231
Citrons, 95
Clairvoyants, see Fortunetellers.
Clans, 33, 115, 116, 117, 127, 130, 155,
162, 165, 251
Clowns, 182
Coahuiltecan, substock, 21
Coe, Joffre L., 7, 63
Coe, yore L.: Cherokee Archeology,
Colden, Cadwallader, information from,
27, 28, 260, 261, 270
Coldspring longhouse, 178
Collecting, 31
Colonial administrations, problems of,
98
Common Faces, maskers, 178
Communal treasury (Gadugi), 104, 105
Communal work organizations, 162
Communities, 71
Community clubs, 106, 112
Community or lead chief, 102
281
Community responsibility, 146
Comparison with formerly adjacent
tribes, 180-187
Conant, Roger, information from, 201
Cones Council, 260, 261, 262, 270,
Confession, 147
Conjurors, 217—218, 219, 222, 224, 225
relation to Christianity, 220
Conjuror’s notebook, regard for, 217
Conklin, Harold C., and Sturtevant,
William C., information from, 201
Conservatism, acculturative, 170
Cooks, connection with poor-aid society,
108, 109
Corn, charred remains, 35
See also Agriculture.
Cornplanter, brother
Lake, 149, 269
Council fire rituals, 273
Council-house, 538, 91, 101
Council of Women, 269
Councilors of war, 92, 269
Council town, failure of, 101
Cousins, 267
cross, 267
Cowe, Cherokee town, 53
Crane, H. R., information from, 29
Crane, H. R., and Griffin, James B.,
information from, 29
Creation legend, 264
Creek (Muskogee) Indians, 22, 29, 42,
56, 57, 58, 65, 70, 72, 79, 93, 110,
111, 118, 164, 182, 183, 185, 191,
202, 242, 258, 267, 268
agricultural system, 110, 111
language, 15, 22
town organization, 100
Crystals, divining, 265
Cult, vision, 184
Cultural Composition of the Handsome
Lake Religion, by Anthony F.C.
Wallace, 148-151
Comment on, by Wallace L. Chafe,
153-157
Curing rites, 162, 171
Curry, Ed., Seneca singer, 195
Curtis Act, passed by Congress, 164
Dakota Indians, 181, 221, 267
Dallas Focus, 57
Dance grounds, 231
Dances:
Alligator, 203
Bean, 179, 192 (music), 195 (music),
of Handsome
203
Bear, 177, 178, 179, 181, 182, 186,
187, 194, 202
Beginning (yelulé), 179, 195 (music)
Big Turtle, 184, 186
“Boogers,’’ mimics, 177, 178, 181,
182, 186, 192 (music), 263
Buffalo, 182, 186, 191, 193, 194
Buffalo-head, 193
ceremonial, 148, 161, 164, 165, 177
Corn, 179, 184, 200, 201, 265
282
Dances—Continued
Crazy, 186
Drum, 184
Drunken, 186
Eagle, 156, 202, 209
Eagle-Victory, 177, 178, 179, 1838
186
Feather, 184
female, 178, 179
Four Nights’, 178
Fox Witch Medicine, 183
Friendship, 180
Garters, 180, 194
Ghost, 165, 181, 184
Great Feather, 179, 184, 186, 193
(music)
Gun, 179
harvest, women’s, 178
Hunting, 186
Little Water Medicine, 202
male, 178, 179
masked, 199
Medicine, 178, 179, 181, 183
mixed, 178, 179, 185
Old Man, 182
Rabbit, 203
Skin-beating, 203
Snake, 186
social, 178, 178-180, 181
spiral, 186
Squash, 179
Stomp or Trotting, 203
Thanksgiving, 184
Trotting, 179, 180, 203
war, 186, 202
winter, 178-179, 182
women’s, 203
Dancing, popular activity, 102, 110
Dawes Commission, 163
Dead, grave goods placed with, 31
storage places for, 79
Dead Feast, 183, 209, 265
Deardorff, Merle H., information from,
116, 117
Death, the Faceless, 262
De Brahm, military architect, 94
Decorative techniques, dentate, 31
Deer, 93
Deganawidah, Huron Chief, 138, 259,
260
Pessuewdee Epic, 260, 261, 262, 270,
273
Delaware, Oklahoma, 181, 184
Delaware Indians, 29, 48, 64, 73, 180,
181, 208, 262, 271
Densmore, Frances, information from,
182, 183, 185, 186, 193, 203
Descent, matrilineal, 91
Deskahe, Cayuga informant, 264
De Soto explorations, 638, 259
Disease, effects of, 88, 89
myths regarding, 216-217, 265
Divergence, factors in, 187-188
Dixon, Mrs. Josephine, 87
Doctors, herbal, 208
Dogs, domesticated, 94
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
Donaldson, Thomas, information from,
102, 104
Door Keepers, maskers, 178
Dragging Canoe, Cherokee chief, 98, 170
Dreams, beliefs regarding, 222, 223
Drums, 180, 186, 192
Drunkenness, 144
Dunmore’s War of 1774, 267
Dunning, R. William, information
from, 5
Dwellings, communal-type, 35
long-house type, 34
Dyaks of Borneo, 110
Marly Mississippi Horizon, 42
Eastern Woodlands, 79, 264, 272
Hastern Woodlands and Mississippi
Basin, 69, 73
Eastern Woodlands Community Typol-
ogy and Acculturation, by John
Witthoft, 67-76
Comment on, by John M. Goggin,
77-81
Echoe, Cherokee town, 53
Echota, Cherokee Town, 131
Economy, 146
Edueation, 147, 150
Effects of Environment on Cherokee-
Iroquois Ceremonialism, Music,
and Dance, by Gertrude P.
Kurath, 173-195
Comment on, by William C.
Sturtevant, 197-204
Kggan, Fred, information from, 267, 268
Elders, Council of, 91, 99
fillis, Florence Hawley,
from, 131
Ellis, George, information from, 266
Hlm trees, 259
Emerson, J. Norman, information from,
information
Kpidemics, beliefs regarding, 221
Hrie Indians, 28, 32, 257
Kskimo, 183, 193
Hitawageshik, Jane W.,
from, 182, 184
Evans, John, information from, 230
Eyes, sore red, treatment for, 208
Fairbanks, Charles H.: Comment on
Joffre L. Coe’s ‘‘Cherokee Ar-
cheology,’’ 61-65
False Faces, 182
parade of, 178
Family, bilateral, 162
matriarchal, 70, 72, 107, 113, 114
matrilineal, 161
monogamous, 148
nuclear, 148, 232, 242
patrilineal, 150
Farmers, 48, 98
Farming, 202
Farming village, aboriginal, 69, 70
Fathers, relation to family, 233
Feast, neglect of, 209
Feast of the busk, 96
information
INDEX
Federal Chiefs, 269
Fencing law, effect of, 106
Fenton, William N., 3, 5, 6, 7, 28, 34,
ADE Siippllia lg, loli elias wll
182, 187, 188, 192, 1938, 194,
199, 229, 244, 259, 260, 263,
267, 269, 270, 272
Fenton, William N.: Iroquoian Culture
History: A General Evaluation,
253-277
Fenton, William N., and Kurath, G. P.,
information from, 179, 183, 202
Festivals, 177, 260
Green Corn harvest, 177, 178, 185
Maple Sugar, 181
Midwinter, 177, 178
See also Ceremonials,
Fields, community, 94, 95
Fire, sacred, 101, 165, 265
Firearms, effect of, 72, 266
Firekeeper, ceremonial officer, 165
Fire rite, 179
Fires, multiple, 34
Fish, importance to diet, 94
Fishing, 31, 93, 94, 222
Fishing rituals, 222, 225
Fish nets, 94
Fish poisons, 94
Five Civilized Tribes, fullblood society,
164, 273
Five Nations, 12, 13, 14, 17, 27, 71,
113, 137, 257, 260-265, 270, 271,
272
Flutes, 183
Fogelson, Raymond D., 5,7, 123, 185, 258
Fogelson, Raymond D.: Change, Per-
sistence, and Accommodation in
Cherokee Medico-Magical Be-
liefs, 213-225
Fogelson, Raymond D., and Kutsche,
Paul: Cherokee Economic Coop-
eratives: The Gadugi, 83-123
Foreword by the Editors, 1-8
Fort Ancient complexes,
Valley, 71
Fort Prince George, abandoned, 53
Fortunetellers, 207, 208, 209, 211
cures prescribed by, 210
functions of, 207, 208, 209
Fortunetelling, procedure of, 208, 209
Four Mothers Society, Cherokee, 164
Four Rituals to the Creator, 178, 184
Fourth Conference on Iroquois Re-
search, 11
“‘Fox,’’ warrior scout, 93
Fox Indians, 131, 180, 182, 183, 184
Frank Bay site, 32
Frank Bay Transitional culture, 32
Free labor societies, 232
Freilich, Morris, information from, 5,
262
French Broad River, 88
Freudian interpretations, use of, 249,
250
Allegheny
Friedl, Ernestine, information from, 170,
9, 23
536135—61——19
283
Fruits, wild, 94
Fundaburk, E. L., and Foreman,
M. D. F., information from, 111
Fur trade, effect of, 72, 93-94, 266
Gadugi, Cherokee economic institution,
Ble 97, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108,
comparative evidence, 110-118
in Eastern Cherokee Community
Pyeanuations 1838-1959, 100—-
meeting, minutes of, 123
money-raising operations, 109
Games, ritual, 178
Gardening, 161
Gardens, communal, 95, 162
household, 94, 95
Gathering, as a means of subsistence,
Gatutiyi, Cherokee settlement near
Robbinsville, N.C., 88
Gearing, Fred O.: information from, 6,
a 80, 92, 93, 137, 138, 216, 268,
Gearing, Fred O.: The Rise of the
Cherokee State as an Instance
in a Class: The ‘‘Mesopotamian”’
Career to Statehood: 125-134
Genessee River, New York, 32, 149
Getman site, Mohawk Valley, 34
Ghosts, belief in, 265
Gibson, Simeon, Indian singer, 194, 260
Gilbert, William H., Jr., information
from, 5, 6, 87, 88, 91, 92, 104,
105, 107, 178, 183, 184, 243, 265,
Gillespie, John, information from, 195
Glen Meyer Focus, 32, 47
Glottochronologic counts, use of, 11, 12
(table)
Goggin, John M., information from, 263
Goggin, John M.: Comment on John
Witthoft’s ‘‘Hastern Woodlands
Community Typology and Ac-
culturation,’”’ 77-81
Goldenweiser, Alexander A., information
from, 113, 115, 266
Gorgets, 31
shell, 56
Granary, public, 96, 111, 114
Grand Council, meetings of, 270
Grandparents, care of, 145
Grassmann, Thomas, information from,
34
Grave-digging parties, 108
Great Creator, Indian God, 207
Great Smoky Mountains National Park,
106
Great Warrior, war chief, 132
Great White Chief, chief warrior of
nation, 97
Green Corn Feast, religious ceremony,
Griffin, James B., information from, 29,
182, 186
284
Ground clearing, slash-and-burn method,
94
Guardian spirit, 184
Guilt, feelings of, 147
Gulf languages, 21
Gulick, John, information from, 5, 6, 7,
87, 101, 102, 188, 215, 280, 251
Gulick, John: Second Comment on
Charles H. Holzinger’s ‘Some
Observations on the Persistence
of Aboriginal Cherokee Person-
ality Traits,’’? 247-252
Guns, introduction of, 93
Guthe, Alfred K., information from, 34
Haas, Mary R.: Comment on Floyd G.
Lounsbury’s ‘“‘Troquois-Cherokee
Linguistic Relations,’”’? 19-23
Haas, Mary R., information from, 21,
93
Hale, Horatio, information from, 259,
264, 266, 270
Halfbreed party, see Treaty party.
Hallowell, A. I., 87, 215, 229, 230, 235
Hamlets, nucleated, 266
Handcuffs, 147
Handsome Lake, Indian prophet, 117,
144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 184, 188,
259
code of, 144, 148, 149, 150, 261, 273
death of, 148
value-themes of, 144-147
Handsome Lake Religion, 207, 260, 270,
271
First Stage: new religion of, 147-
148, 151, 155, 260, 261
Second Stage: Christians
Pagans, 148-150
Third Stage: “the Old Way”’ of,
150-151
Handsome Lake Religion, Cultural Com-
position of, by Anthony F. C.
Wallace, 143-167
Hangman’s rope, 147
Harrington, M. R., information from,
55, 56, 57
Harvest meal, 108, 110, 112
Hatchet, 266
Hawkins, Benjamin, information from,
230, 231
Health, meaning of, 207
Heckewelder, John, information from,
270, 271
Herbalism, book, 73
Cherokee, 69, 75, 216
Herbalists, role of, 263
Herb lore, 183
Herskovits, Melville, information from,
110
Hewitt, J. N. B., information from, 185,
259, 261, 266, 267, 270
Heyoka, Dakota, 181
Hicks, Charles, informant, 115
Hidatsa Indians, 110
Hill, Scottie, Indian singer, 195
Hitchiti Indians, 63, 64, 65, 202
and
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
Hiwassee Island site, 57, 58, 59
Hiwassee River, 88
Hochelaga pottery, 28
Hochelaga site, 28
Hoes, 96, 111, 116, 117
Hoffmann, Bernard, information from,
12, 183
Hohokam village complexes, 71
Hokan-Coahuiltecan stock, 21
Hokan-Siouan superstock, 21, 29
Holland Land Company, 148
Holston River, 88
Holzinger, Charles H., information from,
5, 7, 87, 215, 224, 241, 242, 243,
245, 249, 250, 251
Holzinger, Charles H.: Some Observa-
tions on the Persistence of
Aboriginal Cherokee Personality
Traits, 227-237
Hook-and-line fishing, 94
Hopewellian Phase 29,
Hopewell site, 29
Hopi Indians, 48, 131
Horizons, pre-Jroquoian, 32
Horn, conch shell, 96
Horses, introduction of, 94
keeping of, 146
Hotinnonchiendi, Indian name for Iro-
quois League, 272
Houghton, F., information from, 113
Household groups, 34, 70, 117
Houses, 35, 70, 90
circular, 35, 91
construction of, 90
heptagonal shape, 91
individual, 42
large, 71
log, 91, 102
men’s, 70, 71, 79, 91
oval, 35
palisaded, 42
rectangular, 35, 90
sweat, 90
timber, 150
See also Longhouses.
Hunt, Guctge T., information from, 266,
Hunting, 31, 93, 116, 118, 161, 162, 202,
, 250
Hunting-gathering activities, 48, 98
Hunting parties, 93, 94, 97, 98
Hunting rituals, 185, 222, 225
Huron Indians, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 28, 30,
32, 114, 181, 183, 184, 199, 257,
264, 266
Huron-Iroquois, 29
Huron-Wyandot language, 17
Husbands, responsibility of, 145
status of, 70
Husk Faces, maskers, 178, 181, 182
Hysteria, treatment for, 208
Illinois Indians, 28
Incest regulations, 75
Indian Knoll Focus, 49
Industrial workers, Indian, 150
INDEX
Injuries, treatment for, 208
Insanity, 145
Institute for Research in Social Science,
University of North Carolina, 5
Troquoian Culture History: A General
Evaluation, by William N. Fen-
ton, 253-277
Troquoian culture phase, 29, 30, 31, 48,
55
Troquoian family, 11, 12, 21, 29, 30, 32
Troquoian puneunece 11, 12, 16, 21, 47,
49, 2
Iroquois, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 27-38, 42, 47, 48,
54, 59, 63, 64, 71, 72, 112, 113,
114, 115, 116, 118, 143, 146, 147,
148, 150, tate 178, 179, 180, 181,
182, 183, 185, 186, 187, 188, 199,
200, 201, 202, 207, 244, 258, 259,
260, 261, 263, 265, 267, 268, 270,
271, 273
Christian, 118, 149
country of, 27, 113
dances, 179-180
fortified village sites, 31
kinship systems, 16, 267, 268
Laurentian, 12, 13, 14, 259
lineage, matrilineal, 145, 146
music, 192
Northern, 110
Pagan, 149
preachers, Code preserved by, 150
reservations, 4, 149
reserves, Canada, 4
social behavior, 261, 262
traditions, value of, 261
villages, 34
Troquois-Algonquian, 258
Iroquois Archeology and Settlement
Patterns, by William A. Ritchie,
25-38
First Comment: on, by William H.
Sears, 39-43
Second Comment on, by Douglas
8. Byers, 45-50
Troquois-Caddoan stock, 21
Troquois-Cherokee Linguistic Relations,
by Floyd G. Lounsbury, 9-17
Comment on, by Mary R. Haas,
pp. 19-23
Troquois culture, 31, 33, 34, 35, 147, 150,
155, 261, 262, 264
Iroquois culture history, chronology,
259-260
general evaluation, 257-277
range and cultural setting, 157-159
Iroquois Fortunetellers and their Con-
servative Influence, The, by
Annemarie Shimony, 205-211
Iroquois League (Confederacy), 34, 113,
137, 138, 257, 260, 266, 268, 269,
2/0, 271, 272, 273
Troquois or Beaver Wars, 259
Troquois-type kinship systems, see Kin-
ship systems.
Iroquois Utopia: Handsome Lake’s
value themes, 144-147
285
Iruska, Pawnee, 181
Isoglosses, 16, 17
Jacobsen, Thorkild, information from,
Jamison, Mary, information from, 115
Jesuit archives, Montreal, value of, 273
John, Chancey J., Seneca’ singer, 193
John, Deskaheh and Willie, singers, 193
John Canes Brown Library, value of,
Johnson, David S., information from,
Johnson) Governor of Carolina Colony,
9
Johnson, Sir William, 260, 271
Jordan, Onondaga County, N.Y., 35
Journal of American Folklore, 264
K4iwi:yo:h; Iroquois Code, 150
Ka- plurals, Iroquoian languages, 12-13
Kelso site, central New York, 33
Kentucky Archaic culture, 49
Keowee, Cherokee town, 53
Keowee River, 88
Ketoowa, old name of Cherokees, 163
Ketoowa Society, fullblood society, 163,
164, 170
Kettle, metal, 266
“King’s crib,’’ public granary, 96
Kinietz, W. "Vernon, information from,
179, 181, 184
Kinsey, W. Fred, 34
Kinship systems:
Crow, 16, 91, 268
Hawaiian, 15, 16
Iroquois, 16, 267, 268
Troquois-Dakota, 267
Kirkland, Samuel, information from,
267, 272
Kituhwa district, Middle Settlement,
8
8
Knife, 266
Koyemshi, Zuni, 182
Kraus, Bertram §., information from, 30
Kroeber, Alfred L., information from,
89, 258
Kurath, Gertrude P., 6, 156, 178, 180,
181, 183, 184, 185, 136, 193, 194,
199, 200, 202, 203, 243, 258, 263,
265,
Kurath, Gertrude P.: Effects of Envi-
ronment on Cherokee-Iroquois
Ceremonialism, Music, and
Dance, 173-195
Kutsche, Paul, 5, 7, 215
See also Fogelson, Raymond D.,
and Kutsche, Paul.
Lafitau, J. F.,
269, 270
Lake Nipissing, 32
Lalonde complex, 32
Lamar area, 63
Lamb, Sydney M., information from, 22
Lamoka Indians, 49
information from, 267,
286
Lands, allotment of, 163
Landy, David, information from, 5, 244
Landy, David: First Comment on
Charles H. Holzinger’s ‘‘Some
Observations on the Persistence
of Aboriginal Cherokee Person-
ality Traits,’’ 239-246
Language tables, 12, 13
Languages, native, 73
Lanman, Charles, information from,
101, 102
La Potherie, and Lafitau, information
from 114, 184, 269, 270
Large-log town-house people, 56
Lassiter, William I., information from,
263
Late Woodland Culture, 35, 71
Laudonniére, commander of Huguenot
expedition, 111
Laurentian dialect, 271
Laurentian Iroquois, Tet aloe Ari,
28, 259, 271
Lawson, ‘John, information from, 112,
230
Laziness, 145
Lead chief, 102, 103
League chiefs, 269
League Council, 269
Lee, Thomas E., information from, 32
Lees, Robert B. ’ information from, 11
Legler, John M. , information from, 201
Legs, sore, treatment for, 208
Le Moyne, Jacques, painter, 111
Lenapid population variety, 31
LePage du Pratz, Antoine S., informa-
tion from, 111
Lewis, T. M. N. 56,
57
Lewis, T. M. N., and Kneberg, Made-
line, information from, 57, 58, 113
Library of the American Philosophical
Society, 273, 274
Lineages, 145, 146, 269
Linguistic techniques, 156
Liquor, “tool of the evil spirit,”’ 145
Little People, Indian lesser gods, 220,
264
Little Tennessee River, 88
Llewellyn, K. N., and Hoebel, E. A.,
information from, 131
Lloyd, Herbert M., information from,
28, 29
, information from,
d
Loanwords, in American Indian lan-
guages, 22
Pope eee Onondaga singer, 192,
Long, Will West, Cherokee informant,
87, 102, 122. 192, 218, 263
Longhouse Cr ulture, 210, 211, 259, 260
Longhouses, multifamily, 34, 35, 42, 48,
OLS GIO, alias, sakes 115, 116, 178,
187, 207, 208, 209, 211, 266
palisaded, 34, 35, 266
Longnoses, maskers, 178, *189
Lorant, Stefan, information from, 111
Lords of the ease! 269
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
aie eee Floyd G., 6, 21, 200, 258,
PHU
Lounsbury, Floyd G.: TIroquois-Chero-
kee Linguistic Relations, 9-17
Love charms, 144, 145, 218
Love magic, 223- 224
Lowther, Gordon, 28
Lumbering operations, 106
MacNeish, Richard §., information
from, 28, 30; 31,32, 33
Magical practice, 69, 222, 223
Maize, 263
Malecite Indians, 48
Malone, Henry T., 91, 99
Mandan Indians, 181
Maple trees, 259
tapping of, 181, 185
Marriage systems, native, 75
Marshmallows, 95
Maskers, 178, 179
Masks, 178, 181, 182, 222, 263
gourd, 182
long-nosed god, 182
shell, 182
wooden, 182
MaubiJa and Le Moyne’s drawings, 42
Maxon-Derby site, 35
McGill University, 28
Mcllwain, Charles H.,
272
Medical practitioners, 217, 221, 265
Medicinal drinks, purification by, 185
Medicine, 73, 75, 208
Cherokee, 69
herbal, 210
Western, 222
Medicine societies, 148, 149, 210
Medico-magical practices, 216, 217, 220,
221, 225
Meherrin Indians, 54
Meigs, Return Jonathan, information
from, 230, 231
Melons, 95
Men, activities, 70, 72, 116, 117, 177
economic roles, 71, 116, 117, 146
philandering, 148
status, 70
Menomini Indians, 181, 183
Men’s council, 102, 106, 107, 115, 129
Men’s house, 70, 71, 79, 91
Mesopotamian area, 127
Mesopotamian mythology, 137
Mesopotamian-type States, 127, 128,
134, 137, 138
Mesopotamian village, 129, 130, 131
Methodists, 102
Michelson, Truman, information from,
183, 184
Michigan Academy of Science, Arts and
Letters, 177
Middle and Valley settlements, 58, 88,
89
Mid-Owasco times, 42
Midwinter Ceremony, 145
Mikasuki Seminole, 265
information, 266,
INDEX
Military men, influence of, 137
Miller, Walter B., information from, 131
Mills, 104
Missionaries, effect of, 148, 171
Mississippian type cultures, 59
Mixbloods, Cherokee, 98, 99
Mohawk-Huron linguistics, 28
Mohawk Indians, 5, 13, 14, 15, 16, 28,
2030, Lis: TOGO, Mile 250,
258, 264, 270, 271, 272,273
Mohawk-Iroquois culture, 34
Moieties, 268, 269
Money, effect of, 104
Monongahela Woodland complex, 71
Moon, word for, 265
Mooney, James, information from, 3,
54, 87, 88, 90, 101, 103, 200, 216,
217, 219; 2205)221. 222. .223. 224.
258, 259, 264
Mooney, James, and Olbrechts, Frans,
information from, 105, 218, 222,
223, 263
Moore, Harvey C., 7
Moravian Archives, Bethlehem, Pa., 273
Morgan, Lewis H., information from,
3, 28, 72, 144, 145, 155, 208, 259,
266, 267, 270
Mothers, relations toward children, 233
Mound Builders, 29, 57, 58
Mound cults, 184
Mounds, 53, 54,
burial, 91
pyramidal substructure, 57
Mouse Creek Focus, 57
Munsee Delaware, 63
Murder, 145
Murdock, G. P., information from, 16,
91, 93
Muskhogean Indians, 57, 58, 63, 181,
182, 199, 200
Musical examples, notes, 191-195
Muskogean languages, 15, 22
Muskogee, see Creek.
Mutual aid organizations, 112, 116, 117,
118, 264
Mutual Aid Society, minutes of, 122
Myers, Merlin, information from, 268
Myths, 216, 260, 264
Natchez-Creek ceremonial ground, 164
Natchez Indians, 79, 111, 164
Natchez-Muskogean stock, 21
N onal nese information from,
1
Nativism, 161, 165, 166, 169
Navaho Indians, 74
Negro slaves, owned by Cherokee, 98, 99
Neolithic life, comparisons of, 72
Sean George K., information from,
Neurosis, causes of, 251
Neutral-Erie, 30
Neutral Indians, 32, 257
New Brunswick Museum, 47
New Bier New Year ceremonies, 93,
287
Newtown Longhouse, 181
New Year masks, 178
New York State Education Department,
3
New York State Museum, 3, 4, 5, 177
Noon, John A., information from, 113
Norris Basin sites, 55, 56
North Carolina Cherokee, 69
Northern features, 181-185
Nosebleeding, treatment for, 208
Nottoway Indians, 54, 257
Noun roots, 13 (table), 14
Nucasse, Cherckee town, 53
Nuclear families, matrilineally related,
24
Nudity, 145
Numbers, magic, 265
words for, 14-15, 22
Nuts, 94
Oakfield assemblage, 32
Obligation of kinship, 145-146
O’Callaghan, E. B., information from,
20M, 202
Occanneechi Indians, 58, 64
Ocmulgee Indians, 63, 64
Ogden Land Company, 148
Ojibwa Indians, 170, 229, 230, 235, 267
Wisconsin, 181
Oki, Indian god, 181
Olbrechts, Frans, information from, 5,
222
Old Hop, Cherokee chief, 132
Old people, functions of, 109, 112
Old Way, The, of Handsome Lake, 1438
Oneida Indians, 12, 18, 14, 15, 16, 28,
3a20u 263,02 01,202
Onondaga, conventions at, 270
Onondaga Council, 272
Onondaga Indians, 13, 15, 16, 28, 179,
2Dil2O8, 2 6lgr2ith, Quo
Onondaga music, 192
Onondaga-Oneida, 30
Onondaga site material, 28
Ontario, Southern, 32
Ontario Peninsula, 31
Opossum, 93
Ottawa Indians, 181, 183, 184, 185
Overseers, duties of, 97
Owasco Bainbridge site, 33
Owasco community pattern, 42
Owasco community site, on Chenango
River, 34
Owasco culture, 30, 31, 32, 33, 35, 47,
48
Owasco lineages, 30, 32
Owasco Sackett site, 35
Owasco sites, 31, 35
Owl, warrior scout, 93
Paddle-carving, on Cherokee ceramics,
6
Painttown, Cherokee village, 101, 115
Palisades, 42
Pan-Iroquois culture, 36
Paralysis, facial, treatment for, 208
288
Parker, A. C., information from, 28, 29,
54, 55, 114, 144, 150, 155, 183,
184, 200, 260, 261
Parker, Eli S., information from, 114
Parkman, Francis, information from,
270
Participants in ceremonies, purification
of, 161
Passamaquoddy Indians, 48
Pavilions, outdoor, 91, 161
Payne-Buttrick manuscript, 87, 231
Peace chief, 108, 138, 268, 269
Peach orchards, 53, 104
Peachtree mounds, 56, 58, 59
Peas, cultivated, 94, 95
Pee Dee area, North and South Carolina,
Pennacook Indians, 48
Penobscot Indians, 48, 73, 186
Penutian languages, California, 22
Perrot, Nicholas, information from, 27,
28, 183, 270
Pheasant (ruffed grouse), 93
Phillips, Philip, 28
Phonology, comparative, 11
Piedmont region of Georgia, Tennessee,
and Carolinas (etc.), 63, 71
Pie socials, 109, 231
Pigs, domesticated, 94
Pine tree chiefs, warriors, 138, 269
Pipes, 31
Plains tribes, 48, 188, 203
Plantation farmsteads, modern, 69
Plaza, central, 70, 71, 79
Plows, adoption of, 116, 117
Plum orchards, 53, 104
Point FPepeule culture, 30, 31, 32, 35,
4
Points, barbed bone, 31
Poisons, 145
Political organization, Handsome Lake’s
values, 146-147
Political structure, 91, 99
Polygyny, 91
Pompions, 95
Ponies, domesticated, 104
Poor-aid society, 105, 106, 108, 112, 117
Populations, estimates of, 89, 90
Post molds, 35
Potatoes, 95
Potawatomi Indians, 185
Pots, corded-collar, 32
Pottery, 31, 32
Bainbridge Notched Lip, 33
carved paddle-stamped, 57
Castle Creek Punctate, 47
check-stamped, 33, 41, 42, 57, 59,
63, 64
collared, 34, 59
complicated-stamped, 57, 58, 59,
63, 64
corded, 33, 47, 48
corded-paddled, 47
corded-stick-impressed, 47
cord-impressed, 33, 58, 59
curvilinear stamped, 64, 65
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
Pottery—Continued
Dallas, 58
decorations, 48
dentate, 48
Etowah variety, 58, 63
fabric-marked, 59
flat or pedestal based, 59
erit-tempered, 57
Huron, 32
incised, 33, 34, 59
Jack’s Reef Corded, 47
Jack’s Reef Corded Collar, 47
Jack’s Reef Corded Punctate, 47
Jack’s Reef Dentate Collar, 47
Lamar variety, 58, 59, 63, 64
net-marked, 59
Owasco Corded Collar, 33
Owasco Platted, 33
plain, 59
Point Peninsula, 47, 48
Point Peninsula Corded, 47
Point Peninsula-Owasco, 49
Fo Peninsula Rocker Stamped,
4
Pontchartrain, 42
punctate, 47, 59
red-filmed, 58
red-on-buff, 58
Roebuck, 28
St. John’s, 42
Savanna, 42, 63
shell-tempered smooth, 57, 58
simple-stamped, 63
smooth, 33
smoothed-over, cord, 33
Southern Appalachian style, 64
stamped, 58, 59
tetrapod supports, 59
Vinette Complex Dentate, 47
Vinette Dentate, 47
Wakulla, 42
Wheeler, 42
Wickham Punctate, 47
Willbanks, 63
Pottery designs, 56
Powhatan Indians, 42, 48, 79
Preceramic culture, 32
Pre-Cherokee culture, 57
Prehistoric period, 259, 266
Preremoval faction, 156
Priest-chief, Cherokee, 129, 1382, 133
Priesthood, 265
community-supported, 232
Priestly societies, breakup of, 216
Primitive village community, 79
Prisons, 147
Problems, special, 265-273
Projectile points, 31
Proto-Algonquian, 180
Proto-Caddoan, 21
Proto-Central Algonkian, 22
Proto-historic period, 259, 261
Proto-Iroquoian forms, 14, 15, 16, 17,
21, 22, 30, 54
Proto-Mohawk, 33
Proto-Muskogean, 22
INDEX
Proto-Neutral, 32
Proto-Siouan, 22
Pueblos, 131
Pumpkins, 95, 111
Punishment tools, 146-147
Purification, participants in ceremonies
of, 161
ritual of, 177
Pyrlaeus, John Christopher, 270, 271
Quain, Buell, information from, 113
Quakers, 104, 148, 149
Qualla Cherokee, 102
Qualla Reservation, purchase of, 100,
104, 106
Quarreling, 145, 249
Quartz crystals, beliefs about, 222
Rabbits, 94
Radiocarbon dates, 29, 31, 34, 35
Raspberries, 185
Rattles, 180
coconut shell, 186
gourd, 180, 186, 1938, 194
horn, 180, 194
terrapin-shell shank, 180, 186, 201
turtle, 180, 184, 192, 198, 200, 201
Raven, Great Red War Chief, 92
Read site, 49
Red and White Towns, comments on, 93
Redbird Smith, Cherokee leader, 163,
164, 169, 170
death of, 165
Redbird Smith Movement, The, by
Robert K. Thomas, 159-166
Comment on, by Fred W. Voget,
167-171
Red House, N.Y., seat of conferences,
3, 4,
Red Jacket, Iroquois leader, 149, 269
Red leader, 130, 138
Red oreanizavion, 91, 93, 97, 98, 130,
duties of, 92
Red tasks, 128, 132, 269
Red-White dichotomy, 93
Relationships, rules regarding, 267
Religious belief and practice, 145, 150,
151, 216
Religious ceremonies, 93, 273
Religious revivals, 165, 166, 171
Religious therapy, practice of, 148
Remnant groups, 73-74
Requickening Address,
Council, 272
Research, next steps, 273-274
Reservation cultures, 74-75, 76, 79,
80, 81, 215, 244, 259
Reservation Indians, 80
Reservation personality, 244
Residence, matrilocal, 91
Revenge, blood, 91
Rice, wild, 185
picharss, Cara B., information from,
Condolence
Ridley, Frank, information from, 32
289
Rise of the Cherokee State as an In-
stance in a Class, The: The
“Mesopotamian” Career to
Statehood, by Fred O. Gearing,
125-134
Comment on, by Annemarie
Shimony, 135-138
Ritchie, William A., 7, 28, 31, 32, 35,
42, 47, 49, 200, 201, 266, 273
Ritchie, William A.: Iroquois Arche-
ology and Settlement Patterns,
25-38
Ritchie, William A., and MacNeish,
Richard S., information from,
31, 33, 64
Rites, Athonront, 184
Bear, 208
False-face, 208
First-fruit, 185
healing, 202, 208, 209, 210
Little Water, 183, 202, 208, 210
masked, 178, 179
medicine, 183, 187, 202, 210
Midéwiwin, 183
midwinter dream guessing, 184
mortuary, 183, 187
New Fire, 265
otter, 208, 209
summer, 188
Wabano, 183
winter, 188
Women’s, 264
See also Ceremonies.
River, in Cherokee theology, 265
Roanoke Indians, 48
Roberts, Wilson, Indian singer, 193
Rodents, 94
incisors, hafts for, 49
Roebuck prehistoric village site, 28
Roll Call of the Founders, 270, 271, 272
Rothrock, Mary, information from, 92
“Round grave” culture, 56, 57
Royce, Charles C., information from, 90
Running Wolf, Indian informant, 123
Sachems, 269, 271, 272
Sackett, Owasco, site, 35
Sacred Ark Feast, 265
Sacred fire, lighting of, 161
Sacrifice, white dog, 178
St. John Valley, below Fredericton, 47
Salish Indians, 184
Salteaux, Behrens River, 229
Sanctions, form of punishment, 133
Sapir, Edward, information from, 21
Sara Indians, 64
Satellite communities, 33
Sauk Indians, 242
Savannah River, Cherokee town on, 53
Sawyer, John G., 87
Scarification, 265
Schneider, Brother Martin, information
from, 96
Sciatica, treatment for, 209
Science Service, 5
290
Scott, Gen. Winfield, in charge of Re-
moval, 100
Sears, William H. ., information from, 58
Sears, William H.: First Comment on
William A. Ritchie’s “Iroquois
Archeology and Settlement Pat-
terns,”’? 39-43
Semantic changes, 156
Seminole Indians, 80, 182, 185, 186, 202,
203, 265
Seneca Indians, 5, 7, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16,
28, 74, 116, 148, 149, 156, 183,
193, 194, 200, 201, 202, 203, 229,
257, 259, 262, 2638, 264, 267, 268,
270, 2iele 273°
Sequoyah, Lloyd Runningwolf, Chero-
kee informant, 87, 108, 260
Sequoyah, Mollie, Indian woman, 243
Sequoyah syllabary, 108, 128, 216, 217,
218
Setzler, Frank M., and Jennings, Jesse
D., information from, 57
Shamans, 181
Shawnee Indians, 164, 180, 200, 267
Sherds, 48
body, 33
rim, 33
Shimony, Annemarie, 7, 260
Shimony, Annemarie: Comment on Fred
O. Gearing’s ‘‘The Rise of the
Cherokee State as an Instance
in a Class: The ‘Mesopotamian’
Career to Statehood,’’ 185-138
The Iroquois Fortunetellers and
their Conservative Influence,
205-211
Shoshonean Indians, 48
Sib system, 91, 115, 145, 146, 148
membership, $1
Sin, power of, 145
Singing societies, 117, 118
Siouan music and dance, 200
Siouan sites, 71
Siouan tribes, Eastern, 112
Southeastern, 183
Siouan-Yuchi plus Natchez-Muskogean
stock, Eastern group, 21
Sioux Indians, 29, 55, 74, 202, 203
Six Nations, 178, 192, 210, 229, 251,208
Six Nations Reserve, 181, 194, 195, "207,
260, 270, 273
Skeletal remains, 31
Skinner, Alanson P., 181, 183
Small-log town-house people, 56
Smallpox epidemics, effect of, 88, 89, 90,
103, 164, 221
Smith, John, illustrations by, 48, 110
Snares, 94
Snow, John, information from, 48
Social gatherings, 249
Society, clan-structured, 34, 42, 48, 79,
150, 155, 156, 260, 267, 268, 269
Clown, US eat
Little Water Medicine, 183, 264.
Society of Women Planters, ie
Softball, game, 107
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
Some Observations on the Persistence of
Aboriginal Cherokee Personality
Traits, by Charles H. Holzinger,
229-237
First Comment on, by David
Landy, 239-246
Second Comment on, by John
Gulick, 247-252
Songs, antiphonal, 186, 187
Buffalo Dance, 182, 193 (music),
194 (music)
Buffalo-head dance, 193 (music)
Euroamerican, introduced, 203
False Face, 192 (music)
Fox Indian Buffalo, 182
Garters dance, 194
Hunting Medicine, 183
Tuskegee Creek Alligator Dance,
203
Women’s Dance, 203
yelulé, 187
Sorcery, practice of, 219, 223
Southeast and Mississippi Valley, vil-
lages, 70
Southern Appalachian area, home of
Cherokee, 54
Southern features, 185-187
routes and Missouri Valley region,
0
Spears, 266
fish, 94
Speck, Frank G. ., information from, 5,
178, 181, 184, 186, 194, 195, 302,
203, 210, 257, 263, 266
Speck, Frank G. and Broom, Leonard,
information from, 178, 179, 180,
182, 185, 200, 222
Speck, Frank G., and Schaeffer, Claude
E., information from, 87, 102,
105, 108, 113, 118, 122, 264
Speck, Penk G., and Swanton, John,
1
Speeches, ritual, 272
Spier, Leslie, information from, 183
Spirit Force, tutelary spirits, 210
Squash, see Agriculture.
Squirrels, 94
Stamping, dentate, 41
rocker, 31, 41
Standing Deer, Carl, Indian singer, 194,
243
Standing Turkey, Cherokee chief, 132
Starr, Frederick,-information from, 87,
104
States, rise of, 128
Steen, Sheila C., information from, 143
Stickball, game, 107
Sticoe, Cherokee town, 53
Stites, Sarah H., information from, 113,
114
Stockades, 34
Stock raising, 94
Stoller, Marianne L., 87
Storage pits, 31
Storehouse, common, 232
Stove, wood, 258
INDEX
Strawberries, 185, 231
Sturtevant, William C., 6, 156, 182, 186,
201, 202, 203, 263, 265
Sturtevant, William C.: Comment on
Gertrude P. Kurath’s “Effects of
Environment on Cherokee-Iro-
quois Ceremonialism, Music, and
Dance,” 197-204
Styres, Ed., Indian singer, 194
Subsistence pattern, 93
Suicide patterns, 244
Suicides, outbreak of, 88
Sun, regard for, 265
word for, 265
Sun flowers, 95
Susquehanna, 30, 71, 257
Swadesh, Morris, information from, 11
Swanton, John R., information from,
90, 93, 94, 110, 111, 115, 202, 258
Sweat house (Asi), subterranean, 90
Swine, keeping of, 146
Symbols, explanation of, 15
Taboos, 221
breaking of, 209
Taos Pueblo, 269
Tellico, Cherokee town, 97
Temple-mound structures, 70
Temples, 71, 79
Terrapene carolina, 201
Territorial integration, method of, 131,
132
Tewa of Hano, 48
Thanks to the Maple Feast, 181
Thomas, Cyrus, information from, 55
Thomas, Robert K., 5, 7, 87, 169, 170,
171,.215, 2169249; 251
Thomas, Robert K.: The Redbird
Smith Movement, 159-166, 251
Thomas, Will, white trader, 100
Thuren, Hjalmar, information from, 193
Timberlake, Henry, information from,
90, 94, 179, 230, 231
Timucua Indians, 42, 64, 111
Titicut, Mass., 48
Titiev, Mischa, information from, 131
Tobacco, native, 264
sacrifice to sacred fire, 161
used as money, 208
Tocobaga Indians, 79
Tonawanda Reservation, 149, 181
Tonkawa stock, 21
Tools, metal, 266
Tormentor, evil spirit, 147
Town builders, 48
Town chief, political officer, 99
Townhouse, centrally located, 231
Town houses, 55, 56, 57, 97, 113, 161
circular, 56
rectangular, 56
Town officials, 161
Town organization, 87, 88, 89, 161, 162
Towns, palisaded, 43
sizes of, 71
Trade goods, Huropean, 32
Traps, 94
291
Treaty of New Echota, fraudulent, 100
Treaty party (halfbreeds), 162, 163
Tribal arks, carried into battle, 171
Tribal councils, 107
Tribes, comparison of, 180-187
Great Plains, 180
Northern Woodland, 181
Plains, 181, 182, 184
Southeastern, 182
Southwest, 182
Tricks, boiling-water, 181
Tsali and brothers, execution of, 100
Tubatulabal, Uto-Aztecan language, 22
Tuckaseegee River, 88
Tugalo, Cherokee town, 131
Tugaloo River, 88
Tunica Indians, 110
Tunican stock, 21
Turkey, wild, 93
Turnam, Mrs, Alice, 28
Turtles, box, range of, 201
Tuscarora Indians, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16,
17, 54, 112,229, 235, 244, 257, 271
Tutelo Indians, 178, 183, 203, 210
Uku, White chief, 91
Uncles, 267
Underhill towns, Cherokee, 59
United States, agreements with Chero-
kee Nation, 164
University of Georgia, 59
University of Michigan, 34, 35
University of North Carolina, 5, 60,
215, 230
University of Pennsylvania, 215
University of Tennessee, 56
Upper Chance Horizon, 34
Upper Creek Indians, 65
Uren, troquois complex, 32
Uren-Barrie complex, 32
Uto-Aztecan languages, 22
Valley Settlement, 88
Valley sites, 56
Vandalism, 145
Vegetable-food remains, wild, 35
Vices, 144-145
Village chiefs, 269
Village-farming pattern, 72, 128
Village political organization,
tional, 128, 2638
Villages, Cherokee, 70, 93, 129
compact, 70
fortified, 31, 34
Troquois, 34
Mesopotamian, 129
nucleated, 266
palisaded, 114, 116, 256
semipermanent, 33
stockaded, 266
Timucua, 42
Violins, 147
Virginia Tidewater communities, 71
Voget, Fred W.: Comment on Robert
. Thomas’s “The Redbird
Smith Movement,” 167-171
tradi-
292
Wallace, Anthony F. C., information
from, 5, 7, 87, 148, 147, 155, 188,
215, 229, 235, 244, 261, 272
Wallace, Anthony F. C.: Cultural Com-
position of the Handsome Lake
Religion, 1389-151
Wampum belts, sacred, 164, 165, 272
War chiefs, 92, 95, 108, 268, 269
Wardell, Morris L., information from,
103
Ward site, 49
Warfare, decline of, 202
effects of, 88, 89, 133, 162
end of, 98, 116
War orgenizailon, discontinuance of,
251
women in, 92, 108
War parties, 93, 97
War priests, 93
Warrior class, grades of, 93
Warriors, 133
War rituals, 93
Washington, General, treaty with In-
dians, 98, 146
Watermelons, 95
Waugh, F. W., information from, 113,
114, 183, 185
Weaning, 233
Webb, William §., information from, 55,
56, 5
Webb, William S., and Haag, William
G., information from, 49
Webb or Webb-Middleport complex, 32
Wegrocki, Henry J., information from,
244
Weight, stone, for spearthrower, 49
Weiser, Conrad, Pennsylvania inter-
preter, 261, 270, 271, 272
Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthro-
pological Research, 177
Whatoga, Cherokee town, 53
Whips, 147
Whiskey, 147
White, Marian, information from, 32
White Chief (Uku), 91, 92, 99
White culture, 147
White frontier, advancement of, 88, 89
White leader, 130, 138
White organization, 91, 92, 93, 97, 130,
161, 165
rule of, 92
White site, Chenago County, 29
White squatters, 163
White tasks, 128, 129, 132, 133, 269
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
[Bull. 180]
Wbiting John W. M., information from,
244
Wiers, 94
Wife, responsibilities of, 145
Willey, Gordon R., information from, 29
Williams, Samuel C., information from,
89, 90, 94, 96, 97
Williams, Stephen, and Goggin, John
M., information from, 182
Windigokan, Plains Ojibwa, 181
Winnebago Indians, 242
Wintemberg, W. J., information from,
28, 32, 201
Winter rites, 178
Witchcraft, 144, 148, 209, 223
Witches, treatment of, 146, 223
Witoto, Amazonian tribe, 71
Witthoft, John, 3, 6, 215
information from, 5, 87, 91, 97,177,
~ 179, 185, 219, 244, 258, 264
Witthoft, John; Eastern Woodlands
Community Typology and Ac-
culturation, 67-76
Witthoft, John, and Hadlock, Wendell
S., information from, 264
Wives, relation to family, 148
Wolf, warrior scout, 93
Wolftown, Cherokee town, 101, 104, 115
Women, activities of, 94, 95, 96, 97, 110,
115, 267
dances, 182, 183
economic roles, 71, 95, 110, 114,
116, 117
part in war organization, 92, 269
Women, political position of, 266, 267
Woodland culture, 186, 187, 188, 244
Woodland Period, 59
Working bees, 104, 112, 116, 117, 118,
146
World War II, 106
Wright, Asher, information from, 115,
156
Wyandot Indians, 13, 14, 15, 16
Yellow Hill, Cherokee town, 101, 105
Yokut Indians, 22
Yonaguska (Drowning Bear), Cherokee
chief, 101
Yuchi Indians, 56, 57, 184, 185
Yuki stock, 21
Zeigler, Wilbur G., and Grosscup, Ben
8., information from, 104, 243,
271
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