Ss a Ry A SERS RRR ¥ WS By aN ‘ SY SS sy Ni aN ANN MMA SY WN SN ORNS *S ‘ * A ANS AN YY AN LON wy SN . \ RN NS \ SN AN AS ERR RRA ~ a SN) SY ANY » Oy ARR RRA . Ca \ \ ANS YY ARRAY SS TOA N RO QQAS RAN SY RA WN SS SRV A SS AN SS S \\ WR RA AK Nh uP ARN Pen ee aah 4 it pyar ne JE fotk ree TA eae hy eh iM i oy) on Pete tren | Ki ie i Mh ‘ ete i re vin; ly a iat a Cnr ah ee ee ie Tre ye Weta | ache, Ren aaa Ni ; iS Tawa payee mera Wie ranks Ns By Ane Mj Wik LNT alt ea Bai Mana a OMSL te geusestie Ni eiee ea 1k mes i Suki Zrii ws oe Th ! tea Hien tan ana PM Aa pant V AUST Oh Siriel ip ny ew omen i) han bait Gee at Fate pal Su ck pee ka a Ee ip} Gy AUK i Rh irae u ori ay NO « Par wecusret (We ‘ 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 WS) 5 il), . 20. 5 ils . 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 Morn PARE Se aE re pateons ral eer PADI en Fad oars w } i ie i < y a) x e ar { } : rt i ' Z x if ; d 2 , a ee ; : f , i nit 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 « co 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. No. 4] ARCHEOLOGY—RITCHIE SH 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 York State. MS., Ph. D. dissertation, University of Michigan, 1956. WILLEY, Gorpon R. 1958. Archaeological perspective on Algonkian-Gulf linguistic relationships. Southwestern Journ. Anthrop., vol. 14, pp. 265-272. 38 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180 WINTEMBERG, W. J. 1928. Uren prehistoric village site, Oxford County, Ontario. Nat. Mus. Canada, Bull. No. 51. 1936. Roebuck prehistoric village site, Grenville County, Ontario. Nat. Mus. Canada, Bull. No. 83. 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 shoe) ele EAN 4 Rte } : v xg} a My Te! card ia =a po ytead an cma or ‘ yy i r es TARY ath ss Pe 0 2 we Ms i y say crs “ae iain lai galanin AEN ea SoA Pa icHlapRATte Pore quale er eeaSay i) Towa ak Br isse ty tbat ke ; Mines red es RPGR: SERS Le ay Sait wv 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 ADAIR, JAMES. 1775. The history of the American Indians. London. [Edition used: Samuel Cole Williams, ed., Johnson City, Tenn., 1930.] 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 traits, rather than aboriginal survivals.” (W. C. Sturtevant, personal communication.) No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 119 BarTRAM, W1LLIAM. 1791. Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, east & west Florida. Philadelphia. [Edition used: Mark Van Doren, ed., New York, 1928.] Breaucuamp, W.M. 1900. Iroquois women. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 13, pp. 81-91. Bent, ARTHUR CLEVELAND. 1932. Life histories of North American gallinaceous birds. U.S. Nat..Mus. Bull. 162. Broom, LEONARD. . The acculturation of the Eastern Cherokee. MS., Ph. D. dissertation, Duke University, 1937. Brown, A. F. 1950. On Onondaga fieldwork. Bull. Philadelphia Anthrop. Soc., vol. 3, No. 5, pp. 2-4. CRANE, VERNER W. 1928. The southern frontier: 1670-1752. (Rev. ed., 1956.) Ann Arbor, Mich. DerarporFr, Mere H. 1951. The religion of Handsome Lake: Its origin and development. In Symposium on local diversity in Iroquois culture, ed. by William N. Fenton, Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 149, pp. 77-108. Dona.pson, THOMAS. 1892. The eastern band of Cherokees of North Carolina. Extra Census Bull., 11th Census U.S. Fenton, Wiiu1aM N. 1936. Some social customs of the modern Seneca. Social Welfare Bull., vol. 7, Nos. 1-2, pp. 4-7. New York State Dept. Social Welfare, Albany. 1940. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Ircquois. In Essays in historical anthropology of North America, ed. by J. H. Steward. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 100, pp. 159-252. 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. 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, University of Chicago, 1956. 1958. The structural poses of 18th-century Cherokee villages. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 60, pp. 1148-1157. GILBERT, WILLIAM HL. 1943. The Eastern Cherokee. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop. Pap. No. 23, pp. 169-413. 1957. The Cherokee of North Carolina: Living memorials of the past. In 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. Social Forces, vol. 36, pp. 246-250. Haas, Mary R. 1940. Creek intertown relations. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 42, pp. 479-489. Herskovits, MELVILLE. 1952. Economie anthropology. New York. HoveurTon, F. 1916. The characteristics of Iroquoian village sites of western New York. Amer. Anthrop., n.s., vol. 18, pp. 507-520. KROEBER, ALFRED L. 1939. Cultural and natural areas of native North America. Univ. California Publ. in Amer. Archael. and Ethnol., vol. 38. 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. Anthrop., No. 12. New York. Opter, Morris Epwarp. 1952. The Creek town and the problem of Creek Indian political reorganiza- tion. Jn Human problems in technological change, a casebook, ed. by Edward H. Spicer, pp. 165-180. Russell Sage Foundation, New York. PARKER, ARTHUR C. 1910. Iroquois uses of maize and other food plants. New York State Educa- tional Dept. Bull. 482 (Mus. Bull. 144). QUAIN, BUELL. 1937. The Iroquois. Jn Cooperation and competition among primitive peoples, ed. by M. Mead, pp. 240-281. New York. No. 11] THE GADUGI—FOGELSON AND KUTSCHE 121 RotHrRock, Mary. 1929. Carolina traders among the Overhill Cherokees, 1690-1760. East Tennessee Hist. Soc. Publ., No. 1. Royce, CHARLES C. 1887. The Cherokee Nation of Indians. 5th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. 1883-84, pp. 121-378. Speck, FRANK G., and SCHAEFFER, CLAUDE E, 1945. The mutual-aid volunteer company of the Eastern Cherokee. Journ. Washington Acad. Sci., vol. 35, pp. 169-179. . Srarr, FREDERICK. 1898. American Indian: Ethnogeographic reader. Vol. 2. Boston. Srires, Saran H. 1905. Economics of the Iroquois. Lancaster, Pa. SwANTON, JOHN R. 1922. Early history of the Creek Indians and their neighbors. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 73. 1928 a. Social organization and social usages of the Indians of the Creek Confederacy. 42d Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1924-25, pp. 23-472. 1928 b. Aboriginal culture of the Southeast. 42d Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1924-25, pp. 673-726. 1928 c. Social and religious beliefs and usages of the Chickasaw Indians. 44th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1926-27, pp. 169-274. 1946. The Indians of the Southeastern United States. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 137. TIMBERLAKE, HENRY. 1765. The memoirs of Lieutenant Henry Timberlake. London. [Edition used: Samuel Cole Williams, ed. Johnson City, Tenn., 1927.] WaARDELL, Morais L. 1938. A political history of the Cherokee Nation, 1838-1907. Norman, Okla. Waueu, F. W. 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 Bevis), SHS one riya nitive, dara ri pwr Wald Tok ALE ROR es TOT ao tieg 3} omnn pea eieap eal Mote ei nena ap ianaS ip HEAD Vices ors pale ies vie 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. st ct aoa, ae joan Seog ee ae pee ap es Boi oe shih gag i Pe ae? 0 an ga haa +f PESTER RNS AAP RIGA 2 te AY) wie PASEO A Clare ti 2 ue 3 Biv: (aes SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION 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 ; Mic wes eX Ea oaecheresvasis lakes cenihtn syne ey le ca pet pid nan SN bli So ed Ani aA anit ZN oe mom pte nto Ah ew bade t rae ae a 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. 4 idea Oe one HlOobnod tupipiocoal ic meet tH UN AIP des NTN TES TS 2 Aowiele Cuvee di? Vx ee aah ; ‘1 % I aie ea 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 B} LED iets Vue sie aw) A AMEE eee ie He aasrraueeky: Vex mane! Pa a Neen Wes Ryteeehaye b se Ye PERS eee 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 7 an OPP My TANS Tr RAD RG MEATY 3 sr) MN ye ae hn Pig ass 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 1p ie dan am my Pi ei rn oe La ne Set tenes bral paste hlichet he Acre Sam sro Crepe satire alamedt ade me rove es eabient hameana i) ae riots eae CONTENTS PAGE Rangerand. culturalisctting® © 253.20 oe. ete Ne Re SE ek 257 (ChrOnOlO cy see an eae eet apie eIG ye Be ea EOE CMs Se es ROWE aS 259 Specialuzentusrof the hives NaviOnSss= ees ee a ee ee eee 260 Specialepro lemme ye we ees mea eee eae ead Mle eS Po NSE aera) ee 265 INextistepsrin researches. wale ee AEE 8 es Ee Vo Se 273 IBiDMUO STA phys 4 sy aueee Neely NLT ee Eps eeriiad Pee stemtk Soe Sek oe pein eaaes fist 274 TRF we Ae OV ot Rage FEN! ih Sean Janka eee: Lene 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. Anthrop., vol. 42, pp. 662-664. 1944. Simeon Gibson: Iroquois informant, 1889-1943. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 46, pt. 1, pp. 231-234. 1949. Collecting materials for a political history of the Six Nations. Proc. Amer. Philos. Soc., vol. 93, pp. 233-239. 1950. The roll call of the Iroquois chiefs . . . Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 111, publ. 3995, 73 pp., 12 pls. 1953. The Iroquois Eagle Dance: An offshoot of the Calumet Dance. With an analysis of the Iroquois Eagle Dance and songs, by Gertrude Prokosch Kurath. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 156. 1957. Factionalism at Taos Pueblo, New Mexico. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 164, Anthrop. Pap. No. 56. Freinicu, Morris. 1958. Cultural persistence among the modern Iroquois. Anthropos, vol. 53, pp. 473-483. Fribourg, Switzerland. GILBERT, WitL1AM HaR.LEn, Jr. 1943. The Eastern Cherokees. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop. Pap. No. 23. 1955. Eastern Cherokee social organization. Jn Social anthropology of North American tribes, F. Eggan, ed., pp. 283-338. Chicago. Goaan, Joun M. ' 1949, Plaited basketry in the New World. Southwestern Journ. Anthrop., vol. 5, pp. 165-168. Hauer, Horatio. 1883. The Iroquois book of rites. Brinton’s Library of Aboriginal American Literature, No. 2. Philadelphia. 1888. Huron folklore. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 1, pp. 177-183. HECKEWELDER, JOHN, 1881. An account of the history, manners, and customs of the Indian na- tions, who once inhabited Pennsylvania and the neighboring states. Philadelphia. (1st. ed., Philadelphia, 1819. Rev. ed. by Wm. Reichel, Mem. Hist. Soc. Pennsylvania, vol. 12, 1876.) Hewitt, J. N. B. 1928. Iroquoian cosmology. Pt. 2. 43d Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1925-26, pp. 449-819. 1945. Some mnemonic pictographs relating to the Iroquois condolence coun- cil. Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 35, pp. 301-315. Hewirt, J. N. B., and Fenton, W. N., Eprrors. 1944, The requickening address of the Iroquois condolence council, Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 34, pp. 65-85. 276 CHEROKEE-IROQUOIS SYMPOSIUM [B.A.E. Bull. 180 Hunt, Grorce T. 1940. The wars of the Iroquois: A study of intertribal trade relations. Mad- ison, Wis. JOHNSON, SiR WILLIAM. 1921-57. Papers. Sullivan, Flick, Hamilton, editors. 12 vols. Albany. KIRKLAND, SAMUEL, . MSS. Journals. Hamilton College Library. Clinton, N.Y. [1760-1808.] Kronrser, A. L. 1939. Cultural and natural areas of native North America. Univ. Calif. Publs. in Amer. Archeol. and Ethnol., vol. 38. Berkeley. LAFITAu, J. F. 1724. Moeurs des sauvages Ameriquains comparées aux moeurs des premiers temps. 2 vols. Paris. McIiwain, CHARLES H., Eprror. 1915. An abridgement of the Indian Affairs ... in the colony of New York, ... 1678...1751 by Peter Wraxall. Harvard Hist. Stud., 21. Cambridge. Mooney, JAMES. 1888. Myths of the Cherokees. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 1, No. 2, pp. 97-108. 1889. Cherokee and Iroquois parallels. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 2, No. 4, p. 67. 1900. Myths of the Cherokees. 19th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1897-98, pt. 1, pp. 3-548. Morea, L. H. 1878. Ancient society or researches in the lines of human progress from savagery through barbarism to civilization. New York. 1901. League of the Ho-dé-no-sau-nee, or Iroquois. New ed. with addi- tional matter, edited and annotated by Herbert M. Lloyd. 2 vols. New York. (ist ed., Rochester, 1851. Reprinted by Human Relations Area Files, 2 vols., New Haven, 1954.) O’CauLacuan, E. B., Eprror. 1857. Documents relative to the colonial history of the State of New York. Vol. 8. Albany. Parker, A. C. 1913. The code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca prophet. New York State Mus. Bull. 163. Albany. 1916. The constitution of the Five Nations or the Iroquois book of the great law. New York State Mus. Bull. 184. Albany. PARKMAN, FRANCIS. 1895. The Jesuits in North America in the seventeenth century. Boston. (1st ed., 1867, Boston.) [See also New Library ed., 1899, p.49.] Prrrot, NICHOLAS. 1911. Memoir on the manners, customs, and religion of the savages of North America. In Indian Tribes of the Upper Mississippi Valley and Region of the Great Lakes, E. H. Blair, ed., vol. 1, pp. 31-293. Cleveland. POTHERIE, BACQUEVILLE DE LA. 1722. Historie de l’Amérique septentrionale. 4 vols. Paris. PYRLAEUS, JOHN CHRISTOPHER. . Dictionary of the Mohawk language. MS., 554 pp. Library, Amer. Philos. Soc. Philadelphia. No. 25] IROQUOIS CULTURE HISTORY—FENTON DHF RicHarpbs, Cara B. 1957. Matriarchy or mistake: The role of Iroquois women through time. In Cultural stability and cultural change, Proc. 1957 Ann. Meet- ing, Amer. Ethnol. Soc., pp. 36-45. Seattle, Wash. Suimony, ANNEMARIE. . Conservatism at Six Nations Reserve, Canada. MS., Ph. D. thesis, Yale University, 1958. Speck, Franx G. 1920. The decorative art and basketry of the Cherokee. Bull., Publ. Mus. City of Milwaukee, vol. 2, No. 2, pp. 53-86. 1945. The Iroquois: A study in cultural evolution. Cranbrook Inst. of Sci., Bull. No. 23. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Speck, FRANK G., and ScHaErFER, C. E. 1945. The mutual-aid and volunteer company of the Eastern Cherokee... Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 35, pp. 169-179. SWANTON, JoHN R. 1928. Aboriginal culture of the Southeast. 43d Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1925-26, pp. 673-726. Tax, Sou. 1955. From Lafitau to Radcliffe Brown. In Social anthropology of North American tribes, F. Eggan, ed., pp. 445-481. Chicago. — Wa uace, A. F. C. 1958. The Dekanawideh myth analyzed as the record of a revitalization movement. Ethnohistory, vol. 5, pp. 118-130. Watuace, Paut A. W. 1945. Conrad Weiser, 1696-1760: Friend of colonist and Mohawk. Philadelphia. WITTHOFT, JOHN, and HapLock, WENDELL 8. 1946. Cherokee-Iroquois little people. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 59, pp. 413-422, 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 fed O uit i Ris es), oy a Ni as 2 : my i eae a) POP lier ae. ia 41 eae? uy ay] in| Be at toe} is a av fal\.) edi ba et \\ ANS NY RN WY \ NY SOS AN Cee eee: Leet a aoe LEE: LAK A SN ‘ » N SY LAY WS ‘S SS . a NOONE INN ANS SS ANY NS NS SN \ A SY \ SN ns SVAN NAN PETA, SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION LIBRARIES. il UL 3 9088 01421 9315 SVRAKY