Notes on O'Dell's THUNDER ROLLING IN THE MOUNTAINS

Over the last few years I've had several questions from parents and teachers about Scott O'Dell's Thunder Rolling in the Mountains. Today (June 20th, 2023) I am going to start reading it and making notes as I do. 

Update on Thursday June 29th at 8:30 AM: I've now read up to chapter ten and strongly recommend it not be used in classrooms. I think the curriculum companies that include it should revisit their decision to include it. It does not educate students. 

I think it originally came out from Houghton Mifflin in 1992. O'Dell is listed as the first author. The second author is Elizabeth Hall. He died in 1989. He was married to Hall. The "Foreword" is by Hall. She writes that

A few years earlier we had followed the trail taken in 1877 by Chief Joseph and his valiant band [...]. From that trip, from the recollections of Nez Perce and U.S. Army personnel, from the writings of historians, and from Scott's instructions and musings about the story, I have completed the manuscript as Scott had asked me to do. Most of the characters are based on actual Nez Perce, and most of their words and deeds are drawn from recollections of survivors."

She writes that these sources are essential to the book:

• Two eyewitness accounts compiled by Lucullus V. McWhorter: Yellow Wolf: His Own Story (the recollections of Chief Joseph's nephew) and Hear Me, My Chiefs! (based on eyewitness accounts of both sides)
• Chief Joseph's Own Story told on his trip to Washington DC in 1897

She writes that these books were helpful:

• Merrill Beal's "I Will Fight No More Forever": Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce War
• Helen Addison Howard's Saga of Chief Joseph
• Arthur Josephy Jr.'s The Nez Perce Indians and the Opening of the Northwest

I'm glad that she includes her sources. But, questions I pose as I read that info:

• Who is Lucullus V. McWhorter? It sounds like he spoke with a Nez Perce person. When did that happen? Did the Nez Perce person speak English? Did McWhorter speak Nimipuutimt (the language the Nez Perce people speak). If the answer to those questions is no, there was likely a translator. 
• Hall says they used Chief Joseph's Own Story as a key source. The subtitle for that source is "Told by him on his trip to Washington, D.C., in 1897*". The footnote for the asterisk says "Chief Joseph's story is presented here not as a matter of historic record or as evidence in the controversy over the facts in connection with the treaty of 1855, but to give an impression of the man." Who wrote that footnote? When I look for information about that account and footnote, what will I find? (Also noting here that the second paragraph of his account says his name is "In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat (Thunder-traveling-over-the-mountains)." Very close to the O'dell/Hall book title, isn't it? 

The copyright page in the book has this summary:

In the late nineteenth century, a young Nez Perce girl relates how her people were driven off their land by the U.S. Army and forced to retreat north until their eventual surrender.

Questions I pose as I read the summary:

• How does O'Dell (a white man born in 1898) know what a Nez Perce girl of a different gender, era (1800s), and language thinks, feels, and says? 

Now, my notes on chapter one (summary in plain font; my thoughts in italics):

• O'Dell/Hall use "we" and "I" for their characters. We are meant to read the book as if the characters the authors create are Native and giving us an insider point of view.   
• O'Dell/Hall use "for many moons" and "three suns" and "six snows ago." I see those references to the passing of time in books written by writers that are not Native. It may sound Native, but is it? 
• The primary character in this chapter is 14-year-old "Sound of Running Feet." She's in the lead of a group of seven that are on an outing to dig roots. She has a rifle that belonged to her grandfather "Old Joseph." As he lay dying, he gifted it to her, to become hers when she became a woman at the age of 14. That happened three months prior to the outing. They see a cabin with smoke rising from the chimney. When another character asks Sound of Running Feet what it is, he says "White people. [...] Indians do not build cabins." Would a Nez Perce person of that time period use the word "Indians"? They might say that Native peoples don't build cabins because they are not aware of those that do build permanent structures. 
• Sound of Running Feet learned (quickly) how to use the rifle. Her father doesn't like it but she thinks it would "be bad to speak against the gift now that Old Joseph was dead. He could come back and make trouble." With that, O'Dell/Hall are telling us something about how Nez Perce people feel about death and gifts. What is their source for that? 
• At the cabin they see a man and woman in the stream. She has a copper pan that the man fills with dirt brought to him by a "boy of our people." They are panning for gold. 
• The man speaks to them. The Nez Perce boy translates, telling them that the man wants to know how they are. Sound of Running Feet does not answer that question. Instead she asks why the white man has built a cabin on land that doesn't belong to him. At first glance it seems cool to ask the question about the land. This is definitely a character who is familiar with fights for land. 
• Sound of Running Feet knows that the boy had gone to a mission school at Lapwai, that his name is Storm Cloud, and that he was mixed up in a murder. He tells the white man what Sound of Running Feet asked about the land. and he replies that the Nez Perce own too much land, that they can't use it all, and that they're greedy. He says his name is Jason Upright and that they better not send Nez Perce warriors to talk to him. The group leaves without replying but at a distance, Sound of Running Feet shoots at and blows a hole in the pan the man and woman are using. They went on home. I'm intrigued. Does the boy's past at the mission school mean he's working for the white man as punishment? What was the murder? Obviously the bit about Nez Perce being greedy is ridiculous. 

[Pausing to hit 'publish' on my notes thus far. These are rough notes. There's likely typos and lack of clarity. I'll be back to add more notes later, when I read chapter 2. I invite your thoughts to what I'm sharing.]

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Back on Sunday, June 25th to add notes. I did a quick re-read of chapter one and am noting a paragraph in there that I did not note above. It occurs just after the group sees the cabin and the white people there. Sound of Running Feet remembers hearing "our chieftains" talking about white people. They (the white people) had only set foot on land that belonged to people in the tribe who "called themselves Christians, those who had sold their land to the Big Father..." I don't recall "Big Father" in other works. Generally, writers use "Great Father" to refer to the president of the U.S.  "Great Father" is seen in books like Peter Pan. Sometime I want to trace down the first use of that phrase. That these Nez Perce individuals who became Christians were able to sell their land tells us that the Nez Perce had gone through allotment. Allotment of their land began in 1889. 

More on "Great Father." Immediately following the dedication in a book called The Great Father: The United States Government and the American Indians" written by Francis Paul Prucha, there's a set of quotes that have that term. The oldest one is "When your Great Father and his chiefs see those things, they will know that you have opened your ears to your Great Father's voice, and have come to hear his good Councils. It is attributed to Lewis and Clark, in presenting American flags and medals to Oto chiefs in 1804. 

My notes and comments (in italics) on chapter two:

• In the opening paragraphs, Sound of Running Feet tells her father about the white people they saw at the cabin. He tells her more are on the way. In her narrative, she tells us that he talks to her because he has no sons and that unlike other girls in the village. In Island of the Blue Dolphins, O'Dell created a female character that is "unlike" others. He's doing it here, too, as if he's championing feminism. But does that work? It does for white culture but does it for Native cultures? 
• She replies, angrily, and uses "Here we stand." and that they will "stand and fight." Both of those are similar to remarks widely attributed to Chief Joseph, delivered by him on Oct 5, 1877: "From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever." Why is O'Dell using them here, as dialog for Sound of Running Feet? 
• The text says that her father, Joseph, is son of Old Joseph, who was an "honored Chieftain of the Ne-mee-poo. He was their chieftain because he could see far away into the land of the suns and moons that had not yet risen." She thinks he was a kind and gentle man who was "too kind" with the whites and "was not a warrior." O'Dell seems to be asking the reader to think of her as tough, tougher than her grandfather. Why didn't she refer to him as her grandfather? 
• "The sun was dying." That sentence is used to indicate sundown. Did the Nez Perce think the sun was dying? Did O'Dell use that directly from a source or is it his construction?
• There are several real people in this chapter. One is U.S. General Howard; the others are Nez Perce men. O'Dell has them all speaking to each other. Is there evidence that they said those words? Here's what O'Dell has Two Moons saying to his son, Swan Necklace: "Listen, idler of all the hills and valleys and meadows in this realm of the living," he said, "Listen to me." "Death stalks the Land of the Wandering Waters." When I do a search on that last sentence, the only return is to O'Dell's book. 

Back on June 26: 

My notes and comments (in italics) on chapter three:

• When General Howard went to Chief Joseph to tell him to leave Wallowa, Chief Joseph tells him that when he was "ten snows" he climbed a mountain, made a bed on a stone, and had no water or food. He "put a pebble in my nose and a pebble in each ear to keep me awake." After "five suns" his "guardian spirit" appeared and gave him his name, "Thunder Rolling in the Mountains." That name, he says, binds him forever to the land. O'Dell is describing what he wants us to read as a Nez Perce ritual. What is his source for it? 
• Howard doesn't care about how Chief Joseph feels about the land. They have to leave "before thirty suns come and go." Another Nez Perce man (Too-hul-hul-sote) tells Howard that "the Spirit Chief" made everything and asks who is "this man" who tells them they have to leave.  Chief Joseph asks for more time because the Snake River is flooding and they would die crossing it. Howard says he will send soldiers with guns to drive them out, and Chief Joseph says they will go. Sound of Running Feet knows some of the Nez Perce men will not go and thinks she agrees with them. 

My Notes and comments (in italics) on chapter four:

• Chief Joseph speaks to his people, telling them they must leave. In part, he says "Some among us, the young warriors, will say to you, 'Do not leave. Do not flee like old women. Fight. We shall live here in peace.'" That line -- 'do not flee like old women' -- bothers me. O'Dell wants us to think old women are cowards. What is his source for that characterization? 
• Chief Joseph tells them they are outgunned and outnumbered and have to leave in "ten suns." He tells them to make bundles of things they value. Sound of Running Feet looks at Springtime (her mother), who is pregnant. 
• Sound of Running Feet goes to Swan Necklace (the two are supposed to get married; the passage includes details on who gave what to whom). "You have heard Chief Joseph speak. Where do you stand?" He is a painter. His father, Two Moons, does not think that is a worthwhile occupation. He belittles him. During the visit from Howard, Two Moons made Swan Necklace hold the horses of two of the younger warriors (Red Moccasin Tops and Wah-lit-its). His father thinks it there is a war to be fought and it is not good for them to be married until after the war. Sound of Running Feet gives Swan Necklace her rifle and bullets. A lot of historical fiction has scenes where a marriage is planned. One family has to give the other items like horses and blankets. What is the source for that? 

Back on Wednesday, June 28, to add more notes:

My Notes and comments (in italics) on chapter five: 

• In the second paragraph, Sound of Running Feet gives a physical description of Ollokot: "He was very tall and had his hair cut in a roach that stuck up and made him look like a giant." Earlier in the book she talks about her father's braids. Physical descriptions like these are awkward. Or perhaps what I mean is that outsiders (like Scott O'Dell) who are writing as if they are insiders focus on things that they think matter. But, do they matter to the insiders? And are they accurate? The mostly-available photographs of these two men show them in a certain way but did they look that way all the time? It strikes me as a rather exotifying and reductionist move from O'Dell.  
• In this chapter, Too-hul-hul-sote is angry about being made to leave their land. He shouts "Our Great Spirit Chief made the world," he said. "He put me here on this piece of earth. This earth is my mother. You tell me to live like the white man and plow the land. Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom? You tell me to cut the grass and make hay. But dare I cut off my mother's hair?" There's a couple more sentences after that. As I started reading that passage, I thought that it sounds a bit (or a lot) like an as-told-to construction or interpretation of something a Native person said that a white person embellished. I did a quick search and was quite surprised to find "Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom" as something said by someone else entirely. I see it attributed to Wovoka (who was Paiute) and to Smohalla (who was Wanapum). I kept looking and found the following two quotes in Josephy's book, The Nez Perce Indians and the Opening of the Northwest. Josephy is one of O'Dell and Hall's sources (as noted above)! These two quotes open Joseph's book:

"The earth is part of my body . . . I belong to the land out of which I came. The Earth is my mother." --TOOHOOLHOOLZOTE, THE NEZ PERCE 

"You ask me to plow the ground! Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest. You ask me to dig for stone! Shall I dig under her skin for her bones? Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be born again. You ask me to cut grass and make hay and sell it, and be rich like white men! But how dare I cut off my mother's hair?" --SMOHALLA, NORTHWEST INDIAN RELIGIOUS TEACHER

 There's a lot to dig into but at this moment I think a teacher would be doing a tremendous disservice as an educator, if she uses Thunder Rolling in the Mountains! To me, it looks like O'Dell and/or Hall erred completely in taking that "Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom" and attributing it to Too-hul-hul-sote. 

Back on Thursday, June 29th (at 8:30 AM) with more notes:

I read chapter six but am not noting any passages in it. Here, then, is chapter seven:

• Chief Joseph and his group are leaving their homeland but are also having fights with soldiers. They're leaving White Bird Canyon and thirty-four white soldiers, dead. Sound of Running Feet makes "a doll for my baby sister with a piece of a soldier's shirt." and "My small cousin had a pair of soldier's heavy boots and asked me to cut off their tops and make a purse out of them." That sounds to me like trophy-taking associated with soldiers--not children.
• As they ride, White Feather, a girl one year older than Sound of Running Feet asks her if she is pleased. "The warriors have won and your father has lost." Sound of Running Feet replies that she is pleased and that if the soldiers follow, "we will beat them again." When Swan Necklace tells her about soldiers dropping their guns and running for their lives, she claps her hands with joy. This defiance and joy are rubbing me the wrong way.   

In chapter nine, Sound of Running Feet thinks that if the war is over, she'll be able to marry Swan Necklace. As they ride she takes care of the children in the group, and tells them stories about Coyote, "the trickster with magic powers." Her story is about how Coyote created the tribes. Hmmm... a creation story. Will I find that in a source? 

On to chapter ten:

• Chief Joseph and his group have had several fights with soldiers. Many of the soldiers have been killed. Swan Necklace and Sound of Running Feet are talking about the battles. Then, we read this:

"Children made ugly masks of the dead soldiers with eyes hanging down on their cheeks and pieces of ear cut off. They dug holes and buried the masks deep and laughed and hummed secret songs that they made up." Pretty grotesque, isn't it? Did that happen?! How the heck does a teacher work with that passage?! How does it impact Native kids? How does it impact non-Native kids? 

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Thursday, June 29, 4:12 PM -- my final set of notes:

I'm not making detailed notes by chapter at this point. I'm tired of the recurring not-Native phrases and oddities like the constance references to Canada as "the Old Lady's country." I did a quick search on that and all hits go to O'Dell and teaching materials about the book. Another redundant phrase is "fight no more" or a variant of it. O'Dell made a real person -- Chief Joseph's daughter -- into the main character in his book. She looks down on her father throughout the book. Did she, in fact, feel that way about her father? From what I've found so far, there's no support for creating her with that disposition. 

In chapter 19 is the "Hear me, my chiefs" speech that is widely attributed to Chief Joseph. Just before it appears, O'Dell writes that Chief Joseph walks to his pony and gets his rifle. General Howard reaches for it, but Chief Joseph pulled it back and said he was not surrendering to Howard. Instead, he was surrendering to Colonel Miles because "This is the man that ran me down." The last sentences of the speech are:

"Hear me, my chiefs," he called. "I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."

Then, O'Dell writes, warriors stepped forward and laid their rifles on the ground in front of the generals, and women and children came forward and stood with the men. Sound of Running Feet, however, "could not join them." A small group slipped away for "the Old Lady's country" and she's decided to go with them. Swan Necklace is among them. Most of the remaining chapters are about battles and deaths and trying to get away from soldiers to what they think is safety in Sitting Bull's camp. In the final chapters, Sound of Running feet is married off to an Assiniboine man but runs away. She imagines killing him with her rifle but doesn't. In an afterword, O'Dell and Hall say that she made her way to Sitting Bull's camp and stayed there for a year before returning to Lapwai where she took the name Sarah and married George Moses, a Nimipu man (Nimipu is the name the Nez Perce use for themselves). She never saw her father again. He and the group that was with him were taken to Oklahoma and later returned to Lapwai if they agreed to become Christians. Chief Joseph refused and was taken to eastern Washington, to the Colville Reservation where he died in 1904.

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Those are my notes. I'll study them and in some instances, do some research to verify what O'Dell and Hall wrote in their book. Then, I'll do a more formal review. I think it may take the form of an open letter to educators, including the individuals at Great Minds Ed, who produce the Wit and Wisdom curriculum. Thunder Rolling in the Mountains is part of their curriculum. 

Beverly Slapin's review of UNDEFEATED: JIM THORPE AND THE CARLISLE INDIAN SCHOOL FOOTBALL TEAM by Steve Sheinkin

Editor's Note: Beverly Slapin submitted this review of Steve Sheinkin's Undefeated: Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indian School Football Team. It may not be used elsewhere without her written permission. All rights reserved. Copyright 2017. Slapin is currently the publisher/editor of De Colores: The Raza Experience in Books for Children. I (Debbie Reese) hope to read and review this book, too. See also the review at Reading While White. 

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Sheinkin, Steve, Undefeated: Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indian School Football Team. Roaring Brook Press, 2017; grades 6-9 (Potawatomi, Sac and Fox)

PREFACE

In “The School Days of an Indian Girl,” a chapter in American Indian Stories, [1], Zitkala-Sa (Dakota) writes of her experiences at White’s Manual Labor Institute in Wabash, Indiana:

The melancholy of those black days has left so long a shadow that it darkens the path of years that have since gone by. Perhaps my Indian nature is the moaning wind which stirs them now [2] for their present record. But, however tempestuous this is within me, it comes out as the low voice of a curiously colored seashell [3], which is only for those ears that are bent with compassion to hear it.

Zitkala-Sa devoted her life to seeking justice for her people and was one of the few early Native writers who wrote without the “aid” of a white editor, interpreter or ethnographer. While her stories describe the everyday humiliations, turmoil and pain that encompassed the Indian residential school experience, she also wrote of resistance and rebellion.

It’s my firm belief that no one could or should attempt to represent what the children experienced in the Indian residential schools without listening to the stories of their descendants, and with “ears bent with compassion to hear it.” And even Zitkala-Sa is not saying that those people are entitled to voice, much less to interpret, what they have heard.

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The 1951 movie, entitled “Jim Thorpe, All American” (starring Burt Lancaster as Jim Thorpe), begins with this hyperbole-laden voiceover:

“Jim Thorpe, All-American, the man of bronze who became the greatest athlete of all time, an Oklahoma Indian lad whose untamed spirit gave wings to his feet and carried him to immortality. Here in a mighty cavalcade of sport are all the giants who faced this champion among champions, each test adding new honors to his ever-growing fame. Here is the thrilling panorama of the Olympic Games, the nation’s praise for its returning hero, and behind the glory and glamour, colorful days at Carlisle University [sic]…” 

Stories of heroism and singlehandedly overcoming adversity are well received in European and European American children’s literature as well, and Jim Thorpe fits into this mold. He’s larger than life, a legend, almost mythic, so many stories about him—both true and false—lend themselves to the persona we know as “Jim Thorpe.”

That’s why, especially in a biography for children, it’s important to get things right. Unfortunately, Sheinkin writes through a cultural filter that objectifies Native lives, histories, and experiences, and in doing so, misleads young readers about Jim Thorpe, the real person.

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“CARLISLE INDIAN SCHOOL,” COVER AND BACK MATTER

Although Sheinkin refers to the “Carlisle Indian Industrial School” by its full name a few times, he then shortens the name to “Carlisle Indian School,” the name that’s reflected on the cover and front matter as well. Omitting the word “industrial” from Carlisle’s name—which Sheinkin does often in this book—belies the school’s purpose: to train its Indian students to be servants and other low-wage workers, rather than to educate them. (Referring to the school as the shortened version, “Carlisle,” after using its correct name is acceptable. Not acceptable is referring to “Carlisle Indian School” as its correct name.)

On the front cover flap—the first text the reader sees—there is this, in large print:

JIM THORPE:

SUPER ATHLETE, OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALIST,

NATIVE AMERICAN

POP WARNER:

INDOMITABLE COACH, FOOTBALL MASTERMIND,

IVY LEAGUE GRAD

Here, Jim Thorpe is identified by his ethnicity, while Pop Warner is not. This introduction objectifies Jim Thorpe and sets the stage for much of what is to come.

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JIM THORPE AND BLACK HAWK

A caption on page 12 reads:

Young Jim’s first hero, Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak, Black Sparrow Hawk, or Black Hawk. Black Hawk was a member of the Thunder Clan of the Sac and Fox, the same clan as Jim Thorpe.

This 31-word caption goes off in several confusing directions, echoed in the text that follows it. 

(1) Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak was a Sauk war leader whose name, as interpreted into English, was “Black Sparrow Hawk.”

(2) Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak was born into the Thunder Clan of the Sauk Nation. He was not a “member of the Thunder Clan of the Sac and Fox.” The Sauk and Meskwaki Nations formed a political alliance after 1732, and, although the US government referred to them as a single entity, the “Sac and Fox Confederacy,” each treaty had a separate place for Sauk and Meskwaki chiefs to sign, and the Sauk and Meskwaki remain two separate nations. As Johnathan Buffalo, Preservation Director of the Meskwaki Nation, explained to me, “We are Meskwaki. When we deal in government-to-government relations with the US, they refer to us as Sac and Fox. We’re stuck for legal reasons but not for cultural reasons.” He added, “They can terminate the Sac and Fox, but they can never terminate the Meskwaki because only our God can do that.”

A lot of people, including Jim Thorpe’s family, refer to themselves by the government name, “Sac and Fox,” or even use “Sac Fox,” and historians and biographers should note the distinction. Sheinkin did not.

(3) Since Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak was born around 1767 and Jim Thorpe was born in 1887, Thorpe’s clan citizenship was the same as that of his Sauk ancestor, not the other way around.

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THE DAWES ACT

On pages 9-10, Sheinkin briefly describes the land rush that occurred after the General Allotment Act of 1887 (Dawes Severalty Act):

Three years later, twenty thousand settlers lined the edge of what had been Sac and Fox land. A government agent fired a gun, the signal for the land rush to begin, and everyone raced on horseback or in wagons, claiming open sections of land by driving stakes into the soil…. By nightfall, the plains around the Thorpes’ farm were dotted with settlers’ tents and campfires. In just a few hours, the Sac and Fox had lost nearly 80 percent of their land. [italics mine]

In the General Allotment Act of 1887, also known as the Dawes Severalty Act, the US government seized and split up Indian reservation lands held in common and “allocated” non-adjacent tracts of 160 acres each to individual Native families, forcing them into subsistence farming. The government then sold the “excess” 86 million acres of formerly communal lands to white settlers.

The government’s intent was to break up tribal communities, which is what they did. By seizing and “redistributing” the land, the government also destroyed the ceremony, social structure, kinship, respect for elders, and community child rearing—in short, the spiritual and material foundation of traditional Native beliefs and lives. Three years later, the government-sanctioned land grab stole almost all of the rest of the land. (Both the terms “allotment” and “severalty” euphemize what was actually theft of land and culture.)

After the US government forcibly relocated people from traditional lands to reservations, and, within a generation or two, from those communal lands to individual “allotments,” the Dawes Act became the metaphorical nail in the coffin.

When your family is abruptly cut off from land, community, and culture and surrounded by a hostile foreign environment, your life changes drastically. It’s not surprising that in this cultural vacuum—exacerbated by the easy availability of the cheap alcohol that can be likened to chemical warfare—Hiram Thorpe became a mean, abusive alcoholic, regularly threatening, beating and abandoning his several wives and many children.

Jim Francis Thorpe was one of six children (later 11) born to Hiram Thorpe and Charlotte Vieux Thorpe in 1887, the same year as the Dawes Act, and just before the massive white land grab. This was the difficult life—no, turmoil—that shaped Jim’s childhood. Land theft. Culture theft. Theft of Indian children into the government schools. A violent father. A strong, protective mother. He was not left unscarred. This is a crucial part of Thorpe’s life that Sheinkin leaves out.

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WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Native babies and children are traditionally named in different ways and through different practices. Buffalo Bull Who Sits Down (“Sitting Bull”) was named “Slow.” His Horse Is Crazy (“Crazy Horse”) was named “Curly.” Some children are traditionally given names that encourage them to “throw away” their baby names. (I’m reminded here of Joe Bruchac’s excellent historical novel, Brothers of the Buffalo, in which identical Cheyenne twins are named “Too Tall” and “Too Short.”) And the baby name of a good friend of mine translates from the Ojibwe, “Maniigimoogibineyans,” as “little bird making mess by making poo.” (She remembers, she told me, that she tried her best to learn how to use the potty so that everyone would stop calling her “little poo butt.”) Sometimes babies are named by their parents, sometimes by a grandparent or by a spiritual leader enlisted for that purpose. Sometimes babies are given a clan name.

Jim Thorpe was born into the Sauk Thunder Clan, which assigned him his traditional name, Wa-tha-sko-huk, meaning “The Light After the Lightning,” a Thunder Clan name. Unfortunately, Thorpe’s birth name is often cited as “Wa-tho-huck,” and erroneously translated as “Bright Path” by his biographers. Just about all of the references to “Bright Path,” which lead back to Jim Thorpe himself, have a romantic overtone, signifying that he was destined for greatness. Here, on page 9, Sheinkin writes:

Jim would later explain that his mother, following Potawatomi custom, also gave her sons names inspired by something experienced right after childbirth. Through the window near her bed, Charlotte watched the early morning sun light the path to their cabin. She named Jim Wathohuck, translated as “Bright Path.”

In any event, both of Thorpe’s parents would have followed traditional protocol and traveled to spiritual leaders in the community who were responsible for providing names. (Potawatomi and Sauk aren’t that far apart—they’re both dialects of Anishnaabemowin.) Or they would have followed the father’s traditional protocol. Although it’s possible that some individuals might name their children in this way (and “Bright Path” could have been an endearing nickname) this “first-thing-they-saw-after-childbirth” thing is a well-worn trope. It reminds me of the movie, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, in which the great Will Sampson’s tongue-in-cheek story ends with, “But why do you ask, Two Dogs Copulating?" [4]   

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THE “OUTING” PROGRAM

One of the more infamous programs of the Carlisle experience was the summer “outing” program, in which the young students were sent to live with white farm families, who, more often than not, mentally and physically abused them. The reasons that Pratt gave for this program was for the students to experience living in the white world while being trained for regular work. The actual purposes of the outing program were to keep the students from going home for the summer and to continue to train them as domestic servants and farm laborers while they provided an equivalent of slave labor. Sheinkin does not acknowledge any of this. Rather, on pp. 100-101, he writes:

The Outing Program was a major part of life at Carlisle. The idea was for students to live with a “civilized” family, practice English, and learn how to run a farm. “When you boys and girls go out on jobs,” Pratt told students, “you don’t go as employees. You go and become part of the family.” [italics mine]

  Sheinkin continues:

That was not Jim’s experience. Assigned to a farm near Carlisle, he was put to work mopping floors and doing laundry. He was made to eat alone in the kitchen, and paid half of what a white laborer would typically earn.

While Pratt and the school administrators had full knowledge of the rampant cruelty from the white “patrons” to their young charges, Sheinkin describes the outing program as generally beneficent.

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ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT

On page 141, Sheinkin describes Gus Welch’s life with his grandmother and younger brother in the woods of northern Wisconsin:

Gus spent as much time as possible outside, hoping the cold air would keep his lungs clear. His grandmother taught the boys to paddle a birch bark canoe, to trap animals for their fur, to collect maple syrup and wild rice. Gus earned money for the family by taking furs into Duluth to sell—which is what had brought him to town the day he saw the Carlisle football poster. [italics mine]

Here, Sheinkin, in one sentence—a wildly inaccurate one at that—purports to describe everything two Indian children learned from their one grandparent. The way it’s worded, as well as what it leaves out, implies that Ojibwe (“Chippewa”) people were and are simple, primitive, nature loving, and technologically impaired. All of it absents the reasoning, the science, the skill sets, and the methods of traditional Indian education. And it absents the fact that these traditional skills—valuable pieces of Indigenous knowledge and technologies—have been handed down for thousands of years.

In terms of canoe building, maintenance and management, many stories were traditionally used as instructive mnemonic devices. My friend and colleague, Lois Beardslee, told me that children were taught everything about the physics of that canoe and all mathematical things to know about a vessel: construction, ratios of length to width, use and repair, how and where loads should be balanced. They were taught hydrodynamics (the equivalent of aerodynamics), how each of the materials the vessel is made of reacts with its environment. For instance, they were taught how and why to weigh down a canoe and store it in the water. They were taught that bark and wood fibers need humidity to swell so that they hold together; that opposing tensions hold these materials together and the caulking is spruce or pine-pitch with fat, using ash as filler. They were taught that a canoe needs the coolness of the water.

Lessons about how to trap animals for their fur were traditionally accompanied by stories about how trapping assists in keeping animal communities healthy through population control, how animals give themselves to humans and how they are to be respected, how they are thanked and quickly killed, and how the pelts are cleaned and dried and prepared. If there were any meat, it would certainly not have been wasted. (My friend, Barbara Wall, commented: “Yum—muskrat and beaver…beaver feast in midwinter!”)

Maple syrup is not collected. People obtain maple sap from the sugarbush and again, there are stories and mnemonic devices for children to understand how things are done in a certain way. Children were and are taught that, as Lois told me, “When we make the syrup, the sap is transformed. It’s all about chemistry; it happens very fast. When the first crystals are formed at a certain temperature, they are the catalyst for a massive rapid series of crystal formation. Our language describes this chemistry accurately. Outsiders could not, because they didn’t have the scientific language to describe it.”

“It takes ten gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup and six gallons of syrup to make one gallon of sugar,” Lois continued. “Earlier, we made maple sap into sugar cakes; it wasn’t until the 1950s that glass jars were affordable in the Indian community and we started making syrup instead of sugar. We’re always a generation behind, financially.”

Manoomin (“wild rice”) is not “collected,” nor is it “wild.” Anishnaabe families have harvested and processed the rice, and seeded, cared for, and protected the rice beds for thousands of years.

--------------------------------

CONCLUSION

On page 154, Sheinkin writes:

The Carlisle School was supposed to sever these young men from their heritage, to “Kill the Indian in them,” as Pratt had so famously said. But fans and sportswriters never let the players forget they were Indians—and there’s no evidence they wanted to forget. They did not call themselves the Carlisle Cardinals or the Carlisle Wildcats. They were the Carlisle Indians.

It was Pratt who named the team, “Carlisle Indians,” and the place they practiced, “Indian Field.” These names were certainly not the choice of the Carlisle students. The racist scorecards and the heavily altered “before-and-after” portraits that depict the students’ so-called journey from “savagery to civilization” were made into postcards and sold as souvenirs.[5]  And the stereotypic headlines (“Indians Scalp Army”) and articles (“With racial savagery and ferocity the Carlisle Indian eleven grabbed Penn’s football scalp and dragged their victim up and down Franklin field”) were written by Carlisle publicists to rake in money for the school, from which the Carlisle students did not benefit. Rather, there was an athletic slush fund diverting money from the Indian students. Although Sheinkin quotes from this material, he neither analyzes nor even questions it.

Sheinkin also fails to follow the money trail regarding letters from the Carlisle students. “Dear old Carlisle” is a phrase that shows up in virtually every student’s letters—because these were also used as fundraisers. There were many letters addressed to parents that were never sent, and there is clear evidence that students were required to turn letters over to the “outing” parents rather than sending them home. These letters were heavily censored; especially heartbreaking are the letters to “Dear old Carlisle” from students who had left, requesting the return of their belongings and the balances in their bank accounts.

In terms of what Jim Thorpe actually wrote, fact-checking material whose research is entirely based on hype is impossible; what’s available is inherently problematic and fundamentally wrong. Nothing is real or true. Jim Thorpe was encouraged to market his life, so everything he publicly said and wrote has to be viewed in this way. In searching out the truths of the Indian residential school era, it would have been necessary—and it would have been Sheinkin’s responsibility—to dig deeper. Rather, he chooses to represent “stereotypes as stereotypes” without question.

And that is the main problem with this book. Among the questions neither asked nor answered: Why is there a children’s cemetery on the school grounds with 192 headstones? Why were children sent home to die so as not to taint Carlisle’s statistics? Why was there a children’s jail on the school grounds? Why did twice as many children run away as were graduated?

Why did Sheinkin not interview descendants of the Carlisle students and especially, Jim Thorpe’s descendants? And why—when the sheer brutality that Pratt and his surrogates inflicted on his young Indian students, mentally and physically, has left generations of Indian people scarred and traumatized—does Sheinkin insist on finding “balance” in Pratt’s intentionality?

What does this say about Richard Henry Pratt and his life’s work? Was he a man who cared about the future of Native Americans at a time few other white leaders did? Was he a man who put down his rifle only to use his school as a weapon against the very people he was claiming to save? Can there be truth in both of the above? (p. 227)

The children who were in the clutches of the Carlisle teachers and administrators were parroting what they were expected to say. This is all clear from the school records—none of them document what the children actually experienced at the school. However, many first-person and descendants’ stories that relate the truths about Pratt’s “noble experiment” at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School have been passed down for future generations to know. But despite the copious research that Sheinkin conducted for this book (including 25 pages of source notes and six pages of works cited), his cultural filter as an outsider impedes his ability to tell the real story.

The purpose of this review is not to compare Undefeated with the countless other books and materials about Jim Thorpe, but it invites the questions: What if anything does Sheinkin offer here that is authentic, fresh or innovative? Is this an exceptional work?

“Nothing” and “no.” Just like the others, Sheinkin’s story only adds to the vast collection of what a friend calls “manifest mythology.” It’s no lie that Jim Thorpe was a remarkable human being. But praising only the achievements of one or two or a few Native individuals while all but ignoring the hundreds of Indian children whose lives and spirits were stolen from them in that same place is an injustice to the Carlisle students and their descendants and to both Indian and non-Indian readers as well. The forced removals and brainwashing of children, after forced relocation, after forced land theft—those are the stories whose importance is buried in the children’s cemetery, and in Sheinkin’s book. The greater win is empathy and compassion, and accomplishments and rebellions collectively shared. Whispering encouragement in Lakota to frightened younger children. Protecting little ones from being beaten for not knowing what is expected of them. Sneaking out in the middle of the night to give food to runaways. Secretly turning the children’s jail into a bonfire. Burying medicine bundles to save them from being destroyed. Pouring salt into a pot of mush or mashing the turnips with such fury that it breaks the jar. Many such stories have been told and many more are waiting to be told.

Sheinkin’s Undefeated is yet another addition to the cult of individual exception. It’s one person’s “bright path” superimposed over everyone else’s dirt road. Our Indian children deserve better.

—Beverly Slapin

3/28/17

————————————————————————

‘Chi miigwech to my dear friend, Barbara Wall (Citizen Potawatomi), whose grandfather was a student at Carlisle, and whose great-great grandmother on her father’s side was Jim Thorpe’s mother’s sister. You have strong shoulders and a good heart. And to my friend and colleague, Barb Landis, whose life’s work has been devoted to documenting the Indian students’ lives at “Dear Old Carlisle.” And to my friend and colleague, educator and poet Lois Beardslee (Anishnaabe), who ceaselessly speaks truth about power. And to my dear friend, Dovie Thomason (Lakota, Kiowa-Apache), for her brilliant and compassionate stream-of-consciousness telephone conversations and unwavering support. 

---

[1] Hayworth Publishing House, 1921

[2] Here, Zitkala-Sa is referring to her teachers at White’s Manual Labor Institute.

[3] Here, Zitkala-Sa, who was born of mixed parentage, describes herself as “a curiously colored seashell.”

[4] I substituted “copulating” for the actual word.

[5] These “before-and-after” portraits were made for two purposes: (1) as fundraisers for the school, and (2) as propaganda. The children’s complexions were often darkened in the “before” photos and lightened in the “after” photos. As well, children in the “before” photos were often “costumed” with props that were not theirs. For instance, on page 33, Wounded Yellow Robe and Chauncy Yellow Robe are wearing eagle feathers in their hair, standing straight up. These feathers were props.

Not recommended: INDEH: A STORY OF THE APACHE WARS by Ethan Hawke and Greg Ruth

Eds. note on Dec 16, 2016: Please scroll down to see Greg Ruth's response to my review. In turn, I responded to him.
______________________________

I've received several questions about Indeh: A Story of the Apache Wars by Ethan Hawke and Greg Ruth.

Published by Hachette Book Group in 2016, this graphic novel wasn't published for, or marketed to, children or young adults. That said, we know that teens read a lot of things that wasn't necessarily meant for them. There are awards, too (like the American Library Association's Alex Award) for books regarded as "crossover" ones--which cross over from the adult to the teen market.

Teachers and librarians are asking if Indeh can be used in high school classrooms. Short answer? No.

Generally, reviews on American Indians in Children's Literature are specific to accuracy of content which, in my view, makes them suitable for teachers to use when they develop lessons or select books to read aloud in their classrooms.

The questions I'm getting suggest that teachers wonder if there's enough accuracy in Indeh to use it to teach about the Apache wars. It may also be coming from teachers who know that graphic novels are a hit with teens and that Indeh may work well with teens who are reluctant readers.

Again--my answer is no. It isn't accurate (more on that, later). There's another interesting factor to consider.

Hawke's Use of Geronimo's Words

As I started reading Indeh, I pulled out the resources I use when doing book reviews. I had Indeh in one window (I use a Kindle app on my computer) and in another window, I had a copy of Geronimo's Story of His Life which was "taken down and edited by S. M. Barrett." He was the Superintendent of Education in Lawton, Oklahoma and the contents of this book were told to him by Geronimo. The first pages in it are devoted to copies of letters that went back and forth between several people involved in authorizing Geronimo to tell his story. It was published in 1906 by Duffield & Company in New York.

Right away, I hit the pause button in my reading. Here's a screen cap comparing the opening lines of Hawke's book (on top), and Barrett's (on the bottom):

This paraphrasing happens in several places in the book. (Note: In response to those who asked to see the other examples, I've added three, at the bottom of the post.) In the afterword, Hawke tells us that Once They Moved Like the Wind by David Roberts inspired him to write Indeh. Though Hawke includes Barrett's book in the "for further reading" section, I think he should have written about Barrett's book in that afterword because of passages like that shown above. This happens later, too. A big deal? Or not?

I'm noting it because--in the afterword--Hawke talks about appropriation (p. 228):

The Apache Wars are a vital part of our American history that needs to be told in a way that honestly appreciates and integrates, rather than appropriates, Native American history.

Hawke's use of the word is odd. What does he mean? I could say that, in using Barrett like he did, he's appropriating Geronimo's words. Is that a form of appropriation?

That said, my primary concern is with the accuracy. First, let's look at what Hawke sets out to do with Indeh.

Hawke's Intent

In his Afterword, Hawke recounts a story from his childhood. His parents had divorced, and his dad took him on a camping trip. They were somewhere near the Arizona/New Mexico border when (p. 227):

An old man waved us down from the center of the two-lane road--the only living thing as far as my eyes could see. I heard him say in an unfamiliar cadence, "You are not supposed to be here."

The old man told them they're lucky it was him that found them (he looked directly at 8-year-old Hawke when he said that, and that old man's eyes stayed with Hawke). Hawke's dad turned the car around. Hawke asked his dad what happened.

My father explained what an Indian reservation was, what an Apache was, how we really shouldn't have been there at all, and how lucky he was not to have gotten his ass kicked.

Hawke asked what the old man meant about them being lucky he's the one who had found them.

My father told me, "Many of the Indians are very angry. And they damn well should be." 

Hawke asks if they're mad at him (he doesn't tell us if his dad responded to that question). From then on, he started buying and reading books about Geronimo, Cochise, Victorio, and Lozen. From those books, he says he saw that

...the cowboy movies I'd always loved took on a different hue. They were full of lies. Those gunfights weren't cool, heroic frays--they were slaughters.

All that made me pause. Hawke was born in 1970. So, he was out there on that two-lane road in 1978. My guess is that they were on either the Fort Apache Reservation, or, on the San Carlos Reservation. Though the reservations are under the jurisdiction of their respective governments, they aren't closed to others. There are times when we close off the roads to outsiders, but that doesn't sound like what happened to Hawke. Who was that old guy?! The "should not have been there" portion of Hawke's story sounds... dramatic. I'm not saying it didn't happen; I'm just wondering who the old guy was. Part of me thinks Hawke and his dad got punked! On the other hand, it is possible that the man was home after having spent time with the Native activists doing activist work at Alcatraz in 1969, at the Bureau of Indian Affairs offices in Washington DC in 1972, or Wounded Knee in 1973.

Anyway, Hawke goes on to talk about his adulthood... working in Alaska with Native actors, and watching Smoke Signals and Powwow Highway, and reading one of Sherman Alexie's books. Hawke writes that (p. 228):

The story [of the Apache wars] needs to be told again and again until the names of Geronimo and Cochise are as familiar to young American ears as Washington and Lincoln.

Can I do a "well, actually" here? I think Geronimo IS one of names Americans -- young and old -- are familiar with. Do you remember that "Geronimo" was the code name the US military used for Bin Laden? Do your kids yell "Geronimo!" when they are doing something they think is courageous?

He, I think, is far more visible than Hawke suggests.

I did a search in WorldCat, using Geronimo, and found 26,964 items in the nonfiction category, which is a lot more than the 9,028 items for Sitting Bull and the 4,669 items for Crazy Horse.  (Note: There are 413,469 items for Washington, and 80,501 items for Lincoln.) In its We Shall Remain series (consisting of 5 episodes), PBS did an entire segment on Geronimo. There are more movies with or about Geronimo than any other Native person. I think he's the most well-known Native person.

Hawke's afterword suggests that his goal, with Indeh, is to tell a story that counters the biased stories and movies he saw as a child. Does he succeed?

Short answer: No. In plain text below are summaries from Indeh. My comments are in italics.

Hawke Makes Serious Errors

Part One of Hawke's book is called "A Blessing and a Curse." The story opens with Cochise recounting the Apache creation story to his son, Naiches and to Goyahkla (who will later be known by the name, Geronimo), both of whom are young boys. The blessing and curse is Cochise's power to see the future. Cochise tells the boys that their lives will be hard... and then there's an abrupt shift forward in time, to Goyahkla, seventeen years later. He sits in the midst of a massacre. While he and most of the other men were away, trading, Mexican soldiers attacked their camp. Amongst the dead are Goyahkla's mother, his wife (Alope), and their three children. Naiches--who is narrating the story--tells him they can't stay to bury the dead, but Goyahkla doesn't listen to Naiches.

Debbie's comments: Hawke's telling suggests that Naiches is in charge. Barrett says that it is Mangus-Colorado who was in charge and that it was he who said that they had to leave the dead on the field, unburied. Roberts (Hawke's primary source) says it was Mangas. The date of that massacre, Roberts writes, was March 5, 1851.

In his grief, he remembers when he went to Alope's father to ask if he could marry her. Alope's father asked him for "one hundred ponies" (p. 11). One hundred ponies sounds cool, but I think the "one hundred" is Hawk's flourish. Historians note that Alope's father asked for ponies, but nobody says "one hundred". A small point of inaccuracy? No. When there's such a body of misinformation about someone, it does nobody any good to add to that body of misinformation.

Goyahkla carries Alope's body to their wickiup (in Indeh, the word Hawke uses is "wikiup" which is incorrect). He remembers telling his son a story, and carries his son's body to the wickiup. He remembers his daughter's first menstrual period, and carries her body to the wickiup, too. He lights the wickiup on fire.

Debbie's comments: That is not accurate. They left the bodies and returned to their settlement. There, Goyahkla burned their tipi and all their belongings. That is when he "vowed vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who had wronged me" (Barrett, p. 76).  

Then, Hawke tells us, an eagle appears on top of the wickiup. It tells him that bullets will never hurt him.

Debbie's comments: That did not happen at their camp. It happened later, elsewhere. 

Naiches and others are on horses, waiting. Goyahkla approaches them, the burning wickiup behind him. His words to them hint at the vengeance he will seek. He tells them he will visit other Apache tribes to ask them to join him in avenging their families. He carries out the visits and gathers others who will fight with them. Naiches hopes that the upcoming battle will give Goyahkla peace.

Debbie's comments: That decision to strike back was made--not by Goyahkla--but by Mangus-Colorado. Goyahkla was appointed to go to the other Apaches and ask them to join them in this battle against Mexico.

In the next panels, Goyahkla leads the others in an attack on a Mexican town. There is one small box of text: "There would be no peace" (p. 34-35) that captures what Naiches thinks their future will be. In the foreground is a young girl falling over, with a spear that has been thrust through her chest. On all fours, a few feet away, is a little boy, with a spear in his back. Naiches looks on Goyahkla and thinks his face tells of a new time for the Apaches. In Goyahkla's face there is no pity as he kills the people of the Mexican village. There are no tears, or regret, or joy. In one panel, a sign reads (p. 38-39):

CABALLERAS

APACHE

HOMBRES 5 pesos

MUJERES 3 pesos

NINOS 1 peso

Debbie's comments: That horrific scene is not accurate. I'll say more about that shortly. Regarding the sign, I think "caballeras" is meant to mean warrior. The figures on the sign aren't accurate. Roberts (Hawke's main source) says that the bounty on Apache scalps was 200 pesos for a man, and 150 for a woman or child. Because the sign is an illustration, perhaps the error is Ruth's, not Hawke's. 

On Dec 14, 2016, David Bowles, author of the Garza Twins series (The Smoking Mirror is a Pure Belpre Honor Book) wrote to tell me that "caballeras" is a spelling error. It should be "cabelleras" which means scalps. His note gives me an opportunity to say a bit more about scalping. Though it is widely seen as something that Native people did, bounties were financed by governments. In her book, Angie Debo writes that, in 1835, the Mexican state of Sonora passed a law that offered 100 pesos for every scalp of an Apache warrior. In 1880, Mexican soldiers attacked an Apache camp, and took scalps of 62 men, and sixteen women and children. The city of Chihuahua welcomed them them back. Cost to the government was $50,000. The soldiers brought with them 68 women and children who were subsequently sold into slavery. 
  
The sign is thrust into the chest of a man, lying prone, presumably killed by Goyahkla. Beside his body, Goyahkla is scalping a woman who cries out (p. 38-39):

 "Por favor. Dios me libre!" 

Debbie's comments: Hawke's depiction of this battle, overall, raises many questions. Barrett, Debo, and Roberts (Hawke's primary source) do not write about it the way Hawke does. They write that the attack was against Mexican soldiers (two companies of cavalry and one of infantry)--outside of a Mexican city called Arispe (or Arizpe). 

There was no attack of the kind that Hawke depicts. Rather than bring "honesty" (he used that word in his Afterword) to this story, Hawke has created violent, brutal, misinformation that he is, in effect, adding to that already huge body of misinformation about Geronimo and the Apaches! At that point in Indeh, I am able to say that teachers cannot---indeed, teachers must not---use this book in a classroom to teach history of the Apache people. 

As Naiches watches Goyahkla in the village, he learns what Goyahkla's new name will be: Geronimo. In the village is a banner that reads "LA FIESTA DE SAN JERONIMO." As Goyahkla moves through the village violently killing Mexicans (he beheads one), some Mexicans call out to San Jeronimo. One of the Apache's calls out to Goyahkla "Santo Geronimo" - and, Hawke tells us, that is how Goyahkla came to be known as Geronimo.

Debbie's comments: In a footnote, Barrett writes that the Mexicans at the battle called him Geronimo but does not offer an explanation. In her book, Debo writes that the Mexicans in that battle may have been trying to say his given name (Goyahkla) and that it came out sounding as if they were saying "Geronimo" or that they were calling out to St. Jerome.   

My primary concern is about accuracy. 

There's some small problems with inaccurate information in Part I of Hawke's graphic novel. Of utmost significance, however, is his misrepresentation of the fight that took place after his family was murdered by Mexican soldiers. Hawke's depiction is inaccurate, and it flies in the face of what I understand of Hawke's goal. It seems to me he wanted to correct the narrative of Apache's as blood thirsty savages (my words, not his), but he does the opposite. He affirms existing stereotypes and misinformation, and adds to the image of Geronimo as a savage. The information he passes along is not in his primary source, or in those that are more widely read (some are on his list of further readings). Why did Hawke do this?! 

Bottom line? 

I do not recommend Indeh 
for use in classrooms. 

A colleague, Dr. Laura Jimenez, reviewed Indeh, too. She studies graphic novels. See her review. 

Sources I used include:

• Barrett, S. M. (1906). Geronimo's Story of His Life. New York: Duffield & Co.
• Debo, Angie. (1976). Geronimo: The Man, His Time, His Place. University of Oklahoma Press.
• Roberts, David. (1994). Once They Moved Like the Wind: Cochise, Geronimo, and the Apache Wars. New York: Simon & Schuster.
• Utley, Robert M. (2012). Geronimo. New Haven: Yale University Press. 

Update, Dec 13 2016, late afternoon:

A couple of people have written to ask me about other examples of the paraphrasing. Some wonder if Hawke has plagiarized Barrett. Here's three other passages from my notes (sometimes I make tables as I read through texts):

Update: Friday, December 16, 2016

On the Amazon page for Indeh, I posted a brief review and a link to this page. There, I said this:

Hawke meant well. He had a memorable childhood experience that launched him into reading all he could about the Apaches. He tried to make a film about them but ended up doing this graphic novel, instead. Though it is not marketed to teens, teachers wonder if they can use it in their classrooms.

In short? No. In an especially violent series, Hawke and Ruth depict Geronimo and Apaches in a town, impaling women and children on spears, and beheading a man. Another woman is scalped.

None of that is true.

That particular attack was actually one in which the Apaches sought a battle with Mexican infantry who had entered an Apache camp and murdered Geronimo's mother, wife, and two children. Much of America thinks the Apaches were mindless, blood-thirsty murderers. Hawke contributes to that narrative. There are other errors, too. As such, it cannot be used to teach about the Apache people.

A full review here: [...]

Greg Ruth, one of the authors of Indeh responded to my review on Amazon. Here's a screen capture of his remarks:

I think Ruth is defending the book, overall. I am focused on the attack that took place after the Mexican soldiers entered an Apache camp and killed women and children there, including Geronimo's mother, wife, and children. Here's quotes from three sources, one of which Hawke names as his primary source.

Barrett, S. M. (1906). Geronimo's Story of His Life: Taken Down and Edited by S. M. Barrett. New York: Duffield and Company.

When we were almost at Arispe we camped, and eight men rode out from the city to parley with us. These we captured, killed, and scalped. This was to draw the troops from the city, and the next day they came. The skirmishing lasted all day without a general engagement, but just at night we captured their supply train, so we had plenty of provisions and some more guns.

That night we posted sentinels and did not move our camp, but rested quietly all night, for we expected heavy work the next day. Early the next morning the warriors were assembled to pray--not for help, but that they might have health and avoid ambush or deceptions by the enemy.

As we had anticipated, about ten o'clock in the morning the whole Mexican force came out. There were two companies of cavalry and two of infantry. I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my people at Kaskiyeh. This I told to the chieftains, and they said that I might direct the battle.

I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to prove worthy of the trust. I arranged the Indians in a hollow circle near the river, and the Mexicans drew their infantry up in two lines, with the cavalry in reserve. We were in timber, and they advanced until within about four hundred yards, when they halted and opened fire. Soon I led a charge against them, at the same time sending some braves to attack their rear. In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and babies--of my father's grave and my vow of vengeance, and I fought with fury. Many fell by my hand, and constantly I led the advance. My braves were killed. The battle lasted about two hours.

Debo, Angie. Geronimo: The Man, His Time, His Place (The Civilization of the American Indian Series) (Kindle Locations 685-688). University of Oklahoma Press. Kindle Edition.

They went south through Sonora, following hidden ways along river courses and through mountains, to Arispe. (They seemed to know that the military force that had ravaged their camp was stationed there.) Troops from the city came out to meet them, and there was some skirmishing. The following day the whole Mexican force—two companies of cavalry and two of infantry—came out to attack. A pitched battle followed, a departure from the usual Apache ambush from a hidden position. Geronimo, because he had suffered so much from these same soldiers, was allowed to direct the fighting. (This is his story, and it may well be true.) He arranged his warriors in a crescent in the timber near the river, and the Mexican infantry advanced towards them and opened fire. Geronimo led a charge against them, at the same time extending his crescent to outflank and encircle them and attack from the rear. (At least, that seems to be his meaning.) The battle lasted about two hours, the Apaches fighting with bows and arrows and in close quarters with their spears. Many of them were killed, but when the fight ended they were in complete possession of a field strewn with Mexican dead. It was here, according to tradition, that Goyahkla received the name Geronimo.

Roberts, David. ONCE THEY MOVED LIKE THE WIND: COCHISE, GERONIMO, (Kindle Locations 1674-1692). Simon & Schuster. Kindle Edition.

Near Arizpe, one of the few important towns in northern Sonora, the party camped. Eight Mexicans rode out from town to parley: the Apaches seized and killed them on the spot. “This was to draw the troops from the city,” recalled Geronimo, “and the next day they came.” An all-day skirmish was inconclusive, but the Indians managed to capture the Mexican supply train, greatly augmenting their store of guns and ammunition. 

The pitched battle— a rarity for Apaches— took place the following day: some two hundred Chiricahuas against one hundred Mexican soldiers representing two companies of cavalry and two of infantry. “I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my people at (Janos],” insisted Geronimo. Since he had never seen the soldiers who perpetrated the massacre of his family, this claim may seem dubious. Yet keen-eyed survivors could have described the attackers to Geronimo in such detail that he could recognize their horses and uniforms when he saw them. 

Because of the magnitude of his personal loss, Geronimo was allowed to direct the battle against the Mexican soldiers. He arranged the Apaches in a hollow circle among trees beside a river. The Mexicans advanced to within four hundred yards, cavalry ranged behind infantry. Armed with the vision that bullets could not kill him, Geronimo led a charge. “In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and babies— of… my vow of vengeance, and I fought with fury. Many fell by my hand.” 

The battle lasted two hours. At its climax, Geronimo stood at the Apache vanguard, in a clearing with only three other warriors. They had no rifles; they had shot all their arrows and used up their spears killing Mexicans: “We had only our hands and knives with which to fight.” Suddenly a new contingent of Mexicans arrived, guns blazing. Two of Geronimo’s comrades fell; Geronimo and the other ran toward the Apache line. In step beside him, the other Apache was cut down by a Mexican sword. Reaching the line of warriors, Geronimo seized a spear and whirled. The Mexican pursuing him fired and missed, just as Geronimo’s spear pierced his body. In an instant Geronimo seized the dead soldier’s sword and used it to hold off the Mexican who had killed his companion. The two grappled and fell to the earth; Geronimo raised his knife and struck home. Then he leapt to his feet, waving the dead soldier’s sword in defiance, looking for more Mexicans to kill. The remainder had fled.

Below are two pages that show how Hawke and Ruth depict it. Clearly, they set the attack in a town. See the children impaled with spears?

Here's another page Hawke and Ruth did, depicting that attack:

I stand by my critique that Hawke and Ruth misrepresented what happened.