Foot-loose and fancy-free By Angie Debo

Of these, 130,000 are self-supporting on their own reservations, "receiving nothing from the Government except interest on their own moneys, or annuities granted them in consideration of the cession of their lands to the United States."

Of the remainder, 84,000 are partially supported by the Government-the interest money due them and their annuities, as provided by treaty, being inadequate to their subsistence on the reservations where they are confined.

There are about 55,000 who never visit an agency, over whom the Government does not pretend to have either control or care. These 55,000 "subsist by hunting, fishing, on roots, nuts, berries, etc., and by begging and stealing"; and this also seems to dispose of the accusation that the Indian will not "work for a living." There remains a small portion, about 31,000, that are entirely subsisted by the Government.

There is not among these three hundred bands of Indians one which has not suffered cruelly at the hands either of the Government or of white settlers. The poorer, the more insignificant, the more helpless the band, the more certain the cruelty and outrage to which they have been subjected. This is especially true of the bands on the Pacific slope. These Indians found themselves of a sudden surrounded by and caught up in the great influx of gold-seeking settlers, as helpless creatures on a shore are caught up in a tidal wave. There was not time for the Government to make treaties; not even time for communities to make laws. The tale of the wrongs, the oppressions, the murders of the Pacific-slope Indians in the last thirty years would be a volume by itself, and is too monstrous to be believed.

It makes little difference, however, where one opens the record of the history of the Indians; every page and every year has its dark stain. The story of one tribe is the story of all, varied only differences of time and place; but neither time nor place makes any difference in the main facts. Colorado is as greedy and unjust in 1880 as was Georgia in 1830, and Ohio in 1795; and the United States Government breaks promises now as deftly as then, and with an added ingenuity from long practice.

One of its strongest supports in so doing is the wide-spread sentiment among the people of dislike to the Indian, of impatience with his presence as a "barrier to civilization" and distrust of it as a possible danger. The old tales of the frontier life, with its horrors of Indian warfare, have gradually, by two or three generations' telling, produced in the average mind something like an hereditary instinct of questioning and unreasoning aversion which it is almost impossible to dislodge or soften. . . .

President after president has appointed commission after commission to inquire into and report upon Indian affairs, and to make suggestions as to the best methods of managing them. The reports are filled with eloquent statements of wrongs done to the Indians, of perfidies on the part of the Government; they counsel, as earnestly as words can, a trial of the simple and unperplexing expedients of telling truth, keeping promises, making fair bargains, dealing justly in all ways and all things. These reports are bound up with the Government's Annual Reports, and that is the end of them. . . .

The history of the Government connections with the Indians is a shameful record of broken treaties and unfulfilled promises. The history of the border white man's connection with the Indians is a sickening record of murder, outrage, robbery, and wrongs committed by the former, as the rule, and occasional savage outbreaks and unspeakably barbarous deeds of retaliation by the latter, as the exception.

Taught by the Government that they had rights entitled to respect, when those rights have been assailed by the rapacity of the white man, the arm which should have been raised to protect them has ever been ready to sustain the aggressor.

The testimony of some of the highest military officers of the United States is on record to the effect that, in our Indian wars, almost without exception, the first aggressions have been made by the white man. . . . Every crime committed by a white man against an Indian is concealed and palliated. Every offense committed by an Indian against a white man is borne on the wings of the post or the telegraph to the remotest corner of the land, clothed with all the horrors which the reality or imagination can throw around it. Against such influences as these are the people of the United States need to be warned.

To assume that it would be easy, or by any one sudden stroke of legislative policy possible, to undo the mischief and hurt of the long past, set the Indian policy of the country right for the future, and make the Indians at once safe and happy, is the blunder of a hasty and uninformed judgment. The notion which seems to be growing more prevalent, that simply to make all Indians at once citizens of the United States would be a sovereign and instantaneous panacea for all their ills and all the Government's perplexities, is a very inconsiderate one. To administer complete citizenship of a sudden, all round, to all Indians, barbarous and civilized alike, would be as grotesque a blunder as to dose them all round with any one medicine, irrespective of the symptoms and needs of their diseases. It would kill more than it would cure. Nevertheless, it is true, as was well stated by one of the superintendents of Indian Affairs in 1857, that, "so long as they are not citizens of the United States, their rights of property must remain insecure against invasion. The doors of the federal tribunals being barred against them while wards and dependents, they can only partially exercise the rights of free government, or give to those who make, execute, and construe the few laws they are allowed to enact, dignity sufficient to make them respectable. While they continue individually to gather the crumbs that fall from the table of the United States, idleness, improvidence, and indebtedness will be the rule, and industry, thrift, and freedom from debt the exception. The utter absence of individual title to particular lands deprives every one among them of the chief incentive to labor and exertion—the very mainspring on which the prosperity of a people depends."

All judicious plans and measures for their safety and salvation must embody provisions for their becoming citizens as fast as they are fit, and must protect them till then in every right and particular in which our laws protect other "persons" who are not citizens. . . .

However great perplexity and difficulty there may be in the details of any and every plan possible for doing at this late day anything like justice to the Indian, however, hard it may be for good statesmen and good men to agree upon the things that ought to be done, there certainly is, or ought to be, no perplexity whatever, on difficulty whatever, in agreeing upon certain things that ought not to be done, and which must cease to be done before the first steps can be taken toward righting the wrongs, curing the ills, and wiping out the disgrace to us of the present conditions of our Indians.

Cheating, robbing, breaking promises--these three are clearly things which must cease to be done. One more thing, also, and that is the refusal of the protection of the law to the Indian's rights of property, "of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

When these four things have ceased to be done, time, statesmanship, philanthropy, and Christianity can slowly and surely do the rest. Till these four things have ceased to be done, statesmanship and philanthropy alike must work in vain, and even Christianity can reap but small harvest.

The Life and Legacy of Elias C. Boudinot

A few years later, Marcus J. Wright described Boudinot as “perhaps the best known on the streets of Washington, and [he] has a pleasant smile and kind word for everyone he meets.” It was also said of him that he “was on familiar and easy terms with the learned justices of the Supreme Court, with stately senators, members of Congress, distinguished military men, and indeed, with every class of society.”

Yet, Boudinot also was a person who would engage in a brawl outside of the office of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs and who supposedly was threatened with death several times. He was described as “a betrayer of his people and his race,” and a person who “prostitutes his Indian blood to these base purposes for the sake of money.” Hero or villain, visionary or rogue, Boudinot certainly earned the distinction of being one of the most controversial personalities in Cherokee history.

Throughout his life, Boudinot seemed either surrounded by conflict or embroiled in it, fostering differing, often contradictory, views of the man both contemporaries and historians. And that, as much as anything else, makes him an intriguing historical agent. Loved by some, loathed by others, Boudinot left not only a rather disjointed and dubious image of himself for posterity—produced by the mixture of his actions and disputable character—but also one that invites reappraisal.

Boudinot was born in 1839, the son of Elias Boudinot, a Cherokee missionary and journalist, and Harriet Gold, a white woman from Connecticut. After the elder Boudinot was assassinated in 1839 for signing the Treaty of New Echota, his children were raised in New England. In the 1850s Boudinot returned briefly to the Cherokee Nation before settling in Fayetteville, Arkansas. There he became a lawyer, and by 1859 he co-owned and edited the Fayetteville Arkansian and had assumed an active role in the Democratic Party.

After Arkansas left the Union in 1861 Boudinot enlisted in the Confederate Cherokee regiment being raised by his uncle, Stand Watie. With Watie and other Confederate supporters, Boudinot pushed the Cherokee Nation toward and alliance with the Confederacy to which Principal Chief John Ross only reluctantly acceded. But by the fall of 1862, Ross and his followers had switched sides; the Southern Cherokees, in tern, elected Watie as Principal Chief. Boudinot, who had attained the rank of lieutenant colonel, was chosen as the Cherokee delegate to the Confederate Congress in Richmond.

Following the Confederacy’s defeat, Boudinot became a major spokesman for the Southern Cherokees in treaty negotiations with the federal government. He endeavored to have the Cherokee Nation formally split between former Confederates and Union supporters. He argued that the two groups could not again live in harmony and especially lashed out at Ross, whom he blamed for the murder of his father, portraying the old chief as a hypocritical traitor. Led by Boudinot, the Southern Cherokees wanted to organize a central government for Indian Territory, grant railroad rights-of-way through the Cherokee Nation, and sell the Cherokee-owned Neutral Land to the federal government. They almost attained their goals, but in the end a new treaty was made with Ross’ delegation.

John Ross died shortly thereafter, and William Potter Ross was chosen to complete his uncle’s term as Principal Chief. Many of the elder Ross’ faction, however, harbored misgivings about William. Desiring to foster unity within the tribe again, they supported Lewis Downing against Ross in the next national election. Downing won, in part, with the votes of Southern Cherokees. In turn, he appointed three Southern Cherokees, including Boudinot, to the Cherokee delegation in Washington, D.C.

Although he spent much time in Washington, Boudinot maintained business interests in the Cherokee Nation. He operated a ranch, but most important was the tobacco factory that he and Watie established in 1868. He also worked to bring railroads into the Cherokee Nation, becoming closely associated first with the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas (or Katy) and later with the Atlantic and Pacific. In 1871 he founded the town of Vinita, Indian Territory, at the junction of the Katy and the A&P tracks.

By that time Boudinot had already suffered some severe setbacks. He had been dropped from the Cherokee delegation for several reasons. He championed railroad construction in the Cherokee Nation and thus angered tribesmen who feared that their nation would lose land to these companies and be inundated with white settlers. He still entertained the idea of establishing a central government for all tribes in Indian Territory, thereby assaulting the sovereignty of tribal government. And he generally seemed more engaged in furthering his own interests rather than those of the Cherokee Nation.

Most devastating, however, was the confiscation of his tobacco factory by federal agents in 1869 for violating a tax law enacted in 1868. The case eventually reached the United States Supreme Court, which ruled that the United States government and Indian nations were not equals and the 1868 statute superseded Article X of the Cherokee Treaty of 1866.

At this juncture, Boudinot further alienated himself from his native brethren when he began to call for making Indian Territory an official territory of the United States, establishing a federal court in the territory, bestowing American citizenship on Indians, and dividing tribal lands in severalty. He defended his advocacy of these measures on the grounds that the court’s ruling in essence destroyed the validity of Indian treaties and that Indians were subject to the laws of the United States. Their rights would be secured, he averred, only after they held citizenship and their real property would be safeguarded only if they had private, not tribal, ownership. Consequently, in an effort to gain support for his views, Boudinot became the spokesman for minority factions in the Cherokee Nation—mixed-blood and white tribal members, Cherokee freedman, and Delawares and Shawnees who had been adopted as Cherokee citizens.

During most of the next 15 years Boudinot spent much time lobbying in Washington for territorial bills, claiming authorship for some and reportedly having the name “Oklahoma” placed in such bills for the first time, or traveling on the lecture circuit discussing the “Indian Question,” thereby establishing himself as a notable and quotable expert on Indian affairs, at least to white Americans. He also collected many influential friends, particularly form the ranks of politicians. Moreover, he ignited even more controversy by declaring in the Chicago Times in 1879 that millions of acres in Indian Territory were part of the public domain and could be opened to homesteaders. His assertions fostered the Boomer agitation to open the so-called Unassigned Lands to settlers, a movement led by David L. Payne, one of Boudinot’s friends.

The high point in Boudinot’s political life came in 1885, when, counting on his close connections with Democratic leaders, he initiated a strong bid to be named Commissioner of Indian Affairs in President Cleveland’s administration. After his efforts failed, Boudinot returned to Arkansas, where he practiced law, oversaw his ranch and other holdings in the Cherokee Nation, and remained active, but to a much lesser degree than before, in Cherokee politics. Most notably, he fought to keep the Cherokee government from leasing the Cherokee Outlet to the Cherokee Strip Livestock Association, a point of view which many Cherokees shared with Boudinot.

Boudinot died in September 1890. By that time, the Unassigned Lands in Indian Territory had been opened to non-Indians and Oklahoma Territory established over the area. A federal court had been created for Indian Territory and a new right-of-way law allowed more railroads to enter Indian Territory. Also, the Dawes Act of 1887 had become law. Although it excluded the Five Civilized Tribes, this legislation empowered the President to terminate selected reservations, allot their lands in severalty to tribal members, and confer United States citizenship on them. All were measures which Boudinot had fought for and which so many of his fellow Indians had struggled against.

Even from this cursory biography of Boudinot, it is easy to understand why, for a good portion of his life, many Cherokees held him in low repute. The Northern Cherokee treaty delegation in 1866, for example, described him as “a Cherokee by birth, but reared and educated under the good old Puritan system of New England—a man who without cause has spent the vigor of his fault-finding with the Cherokee Nation, of which he has never been a citizen.” A biased view, of course, but one containing sentiments that were later expressed by others was made by Principal Chief Lewis Downing, who by 1873 would denounce Boudinot as a “betrayer of his people and his race.” Downing further declared, “This man is employed in the interest of Railroads. . . . With vast schemes, for self-aggrandizement by private speculation in the land which is the common heritage of the Cherokee people, he used the name of the Cherokee for the purpose of robbing and crushing the Cherokee people. He prostitutes his Indian blood to these base purposes for the sake of money.” Several of his erstwhile friends also turned against him, such as William Penn Adair, who lamented, “I am only sorry that he does not lend us the aid of his strong talent and ability to carry out the views and rights of his people.” More caustic was L.H. “Hooley” Bell, who compared Boudinot to Judas Iscariot and Benedict Arnold and characterized him as a Cherokee leader who had “betrayed his trust and deserted his people and in turn was discarded by them.”

On the other hand, there were those, especially whites, who admired Boudinot, as can be seen in the responses to his death. The Fort Smith Call, for example, stated that the Cherokees had lost “one of their greatest and most progressive leaders,” who for 25 years had been “one of the most noted Indians of America.” The Fort Smith Elevator declared that Boudinot “was an extraordinary man, and will occupy a marked place in history. Taken in all phases of character, he was, perhaps, the best representative of the Indian race that ever existed.” Equally admiring was the New York Times, which described Boudinot as the “most noted of the Cherokees,” who “for thirty years ahs been the most intelligent Indian in North America.” Likewise, when his fellow lawyers in Fort Smith held a memorial gathering in his honor, Boudinot was heralded as the “best and most favorably known Indian in America.” Former Congressman T. M. Gunter observed that “no man living or dead know so thoroughly the history, needs, and character of the Indian races as Colonel Boudinot,” and Judge Thomas Boles opined that “the Indians will acknowledge that he was a far-seeing, unselfish, and patriotic statesman.”

Such varying remarks about Boudinot can be attributed in part to differing perspectives. Boudinot’s contemporaries often judged him from subjective personal appraisal. Historians recounting the triumph of statehood for Oklahoma could see him as a progressive Indian in the vanguard of opening the Indian Territory to white civilization. Other, however, pictured the Indians as people wronged by white America, and unlike John Ross, who became identified as a noble tribal leader trying to protect his people, Boudinot provided possibly the best example of an outspoken promoter of assimilation, who was perceived at best as a misguided mixed-blood, at worst a villainous traitor.

Clearly there is a lack of consensus in appraising Boudinot’s character and motivations. But despite the disparity of these conclusions about Boudinot, there are, nevertheless, certain considerations that lend themselves to formulating a better understanding of the man.

For one, Boudinot was relentless in battling his foes, especially John Ross, William Potter Ross, and the tribal faction they led. But others, indeed almost all, who opposed his views or actions, incurred his animosity. And the evidence of his seemingly ever-present conflicts makes him appear as a constantly quarrelsome person, a view far removed from the perceptions of his many friends and acquaintances who knew him to be a genial, gentle, gentlemanly fellow full of charm and warmth. There is, however, no real paradox. Like all human beings, Boudinot was often moved by his emotions, which were sometimes very strong, a facet of his personality which was sympathetically explained in the Fort Smith Times at the time of his death: “To hate was not part of his nature, and though he did hate his enemies with all the fervor of his soul, he did it religiously—did it with the impulsive feeling that no to hate them would be treason to the memory of his father and friends who suffered at the hands of savage cruelty.”

Second, Boudinot sought status in both Cherokee and white society. The force of his ambitions propelled him into political and economic activities, while failure or rejection only spurred him with dogged determination into further ventures. However, regardless of how much he proudly proclaimed his Indian heritage—to the point, for example, of wearing his hair long as a distinguishing feature—Boudinot thought and acted like a white man. He embraced white America’s concept of progress, and after the Civil War, his business dealings, his spirit of boosterism, his dreams of wealth, his seemingly constant scheming, all clearly placed him in the main stream of Gilded-Age America. In this context, he represented that “new type” of Indian pointed out by H. Craig Miner, the culturally more white than red mixed-blood who promoted economic enterprises apparently for personal profit without regard to the wishes or best interests of his Indian brethren.

The foregoing leads to the crucial question: did Boudinot ever have the welfare of the Cherokees at heart? Probably he did not in every instance, but nevertheless it may be contended that generally he did and that he never doubted his commitment to their best interests—as he saw them. He came to envision the changes modernizing white America ultimately overtaking the Cherokee Nation and virtually destroying the inhabitants unless they adapted to white ways. “The world is moving,” he declared. “We [Indians] must move with it or be crushed.” In fact, the argument might be made that in his own way, Boudinot followed in his father’s footsteps. The elder Boudinot had worked to “civilized” the Cherokees by preaching Christianity and advocating education, but the prejudice that he found in whites finally led him to conclude that assimilation would be impossible, thus prompting him to accept removal in hopes of saving his tribe from destruction. His son, on the other hand, understood the situation in his own times differently. His particular plight with his tobacco factory, mixed with his fundamentally white views, led him to conclude that the best protection Cherokees, indeed all Indians, could have would be private ownership of their land and American citizenship. To him, assimilation became the requisite for Indian survival. Red men could not stop the tide of white advances, but they could, he proposed, “join the resistless army of civilization and progress, and thus save our people from destruction.”

Boudinot also saw the path to civilization in economic development. He wanted more commercial and industrial enterprises in the Cherokee Nation and saw railroads, in particular, as the catalyst for such because they “would send the blood of enterprise tingling through the viens of every Cherokee.” Railroads in the Cherokee Nation, he proclaimed:

are inevitable; they are the great civilizers of the world. If we are ever to prosper as a civilized people, we must do as others do, by multiplying the facilities of communication. I do not fear their demoralizing influences, because the fact is, that the individual Indian has improved just in proportion as he has come in close contact with civilization.

All this is not to say that Boudinot was imbued with altruism. He was not, nor was he as principled as he would have wanted people to believe. There was significant truth in some of the charges of his critics. He was not above duplicity. He was cozy with railroad companies. He was ever looking for his own gain. These foibles, however, do not necessarily negate his having concern for his fellow Cherokees. What might be said is that Boudinot wanted the Cherokee Nation to boom with a prosperity, one in which he, too, shared, one produced by a bond of unity and common purpose between Indians and whites.

Unfortunately for Boudinot, many Cherokees and others, including historians, neither trusted his motives nor shared his views. Indeed, his undertakings and battles more often than not could be interpreted as questionable in purpose. But regardless of any misgivings—justified or not—about Boudinot, it cannot be denied that he played a prominent role in Cherokee history for almost three decades.

In retrospect, while not excusing but looking beyond his faults, Boudinot can be characterized in the context of latter nineteenth century America, and be seen in much the same way as by Judge Isaac Parker, Boudinot’s friend and a staunch defender of Indian rights:

I think he was much misunderstood by some of his people. They had a belief that he was not true to their interest, and that he was willing to barter away their rights. This was a great mistake. He was jealous of the rights of the Indians as any of them, and I believe he was ever ready to defend their rights of life, liberty, and property. He was just a little ahead of his people. He wanted them to fall into the ranks of the great column of civilization and progress, as it goes marking on to that higher, greater, and nobler goal of the nation.

Although Parker’s remarks were intentionally eulogistic, they are, nonetheless, arguably accurate and fair, to a point, in presenting an assessment of Elias C. Boudinot.

Into Oklahoma at Last

Thousands Wildly Dashing in for Homes

The Scramble of Settlers, Sooners, and Spectators—Reports of Disturbances and Quarrels³²

The sun was not up sooner than the average Boomer this morning. Probably not half the people slept at all during the night. Gasoline lamps flared from sundown to sunrise in the two business streets, and the ghostly forms of prairie schooners could be seen moving toward the ford a mile north of town. Daybreak found scores of men in the saddle and within an hour the town was as lively as it has been since the boom began. A steady stream of wagons poured from the broken country, west and north to the main ford and, when this became blocked, hundreds of them were turned to the right, facing the river at every point where fording seemed at all practicable. At least fifty wagons halted where their owners only sought a safer spot when Lieut. Samuel E. Adair of the Fifth Cavalry flatly told them he would prevent them from attempting to cross there.

Lieut. Adair, with a small body of troopers, came to the scene at 8 o'clock and patrolled the riverbank until noon. Another guard was stationed at the Santa Fe Bridge, and still another detachment crossed to the race side and began beating the bush for hidden Boomers. While this body failed to find any of the five outfits which have invaded the Territory during the last three days, it captured several wanderers and made an appalling discovery. Twenty men compromised the command, and they rode along the river for several miles before turning to scout through the timber. Below the bridge is a great bend, where the quicksand is known to be most treacherous.

As the troops emerged from a little strip of forest they saw, lying upon the sand, the body of a youth of not more than twenty years. He was poorly clad and his eyes, his ears, and his nostrils were filled with sand. A wagon track, heading from the opposite shore to a point about forty feet from where the body lay, and there suddenly disappearing, told the tale as well as an eye witness could have done. Some enterprising Boomer, with his family and effects, had essayed to ford the stream and the quicksand had swallowed his outfit when it was apparently beyond the reach of danger. How they came, will never be known. The dead boy was freckled and homely, and was dressed in the primitive Texas style. His pockets contained nothing to throw light on the mystery. The oldest river man is puzzled to know how he managed to reach the shore after the others had perished. There have been many tragic occurrences in this country since the Oklahoma excitement began, but none more terrible than this boy disclosed. The troops made such disposition of the body as was possible and searched up and down stream for further traces of the fatality, but nothing more was found and the scout continued.

A mile below a Boomer was discovered who had just crossed and was urging his horse up a ravine. He was captured without difficulty, and a soldier was sent back with him to the ford at Purcell. Three more rustlers were corralled soon after, and it being then nearly 11 o'clock, the troop was headed for Purcell, and the last Oklahoma raid was at an end. Several hundred men with outfits are known to have been in the timber or ravines of the Territory, and these are now reaping the reward of their temerity in opposing the mandate of Uncle Sam.

At the Santa Fe station this forenoon hundreds had gathered hours before the time for the departure to the north. There was more baggage piled on the platform than would be put in any union station in the country. On a side track fully fifty cars were loaded or being loaded with household goods and merchandise destined for Oklahoma City or Guthrie. Poles and barbed wire for fences composed the cargo of fully one fourth of the cars and these were marked for immediate shipments. A barbed wire fence will be a powerful argument against occupation of a quarter section by five or ten boomers, if it is erected within twenty-four hours after pre-emption. A carload of beer was known to be sidetracked here this morning, but as most of the Deputy United States Marshals had gone to Guthrie or Kingfisher, it was not descended upon. The other day Chief Deputy Ensley discovered a barrel of beer on the platform of the station at Norman, and he destroyed it in the presence and to the infinite disgust of dozens of thirsty travelers.

Men with packs on their backs and their arms full of goods came down the bluff this morning and joined the crowd at the station. The eating-houses were jammed to the very kitchen doors, and in the rear of one of these a curious woman, as she broiled beefsteak and made coffee over a fire in the yard.

About 10 o'clock the street fakirs and gamblers closed up their schemes and games for the present, packed their paraphernalia, and made tracks for the station. Some were bound for Guthrie and others for Oklahoma City, and a few expressed their determination to go to Kingfisher, which they considered desirable from the fact that it would not be overrun at first with gentlemen of their calling. If all the Purcell "sports" settle in Oklahoma and display the hustling qualities they have shown here the other fellows will have to rise very early in the morning to make the running with them.

When the first train of eight coaches rolled in to the station from the south every Boomer who had planned to invade Oklahoma by railroad was on hand. A howl of rage went up as the train sped on, with trainmen on every platform to prevent anyone from getting aboard. This train ran a little below town and halted until the hour set for its departure into the Territory.

Soon afterwards a special train of 12 coaches appeared, and inside of five minutes it was crowded with over one thousand people. It ran down the switch and stopped until 11:40 o'clock. The overflow was so great that another train of equal size was brought up, and this also was crowded to the platforms in an incredibly short time.

As the trains lay on the siding, each car was a theatre. It seemed as if every man had a plan whereby he could leave the train after it had passed into Oklahoma, and stealthy glances at the bell rope showed that the engineer's gong would sound about the time the train was over the bridge of the town. A discussion in one car brought on a free fight among some gamblers and pistols were flourished in the most reckless manner. There happened to be a Deputy United States Marshal on the car, who once cut the lobe from a man's ear at thirty paces or thereabouts, and when he threw up his gun the others disappeared as if by magic, showing indisputably that reputation in this country is not the inadequacy it is held to be in the East. The two specials were finally joined together behind a double-header, and thus equipped the train waited for the word.

In Canadian street at 11 o'clock the town people who remained on the bluff found plenty of entertainment. There are situated several livery stables and the horse mart. At that hour fully 200 horses were being rubbed down and saddled and bridled, and every man in sight was engaged in the work. From the preparations a stranger of sporting proclivities would unhesitatingly have declared that a horse race was on . . . the biggest race ever run in the United States—a race for homes, for 160 acres of Oklahoma land.

The owners of the horses being so carefully groomed were, for the most part, young men who own regulation Boomer outfits; who have been here for months, and some of them for years, and all of whom, it is believed, belong to the Oklahoma Legion. Every man of them has staked out a claim within ten miles of Purcell, and the idea of each is to get to it as soon after midday as possible and wait for the wagon to make a more leisurely trip. To accomplish this each had secured a fleet horse, and cared for it religiously in anticipation of this trying hour. No cavalrymen going on inspection ever paid such minute attention to details, as did those home seekers. Every girth, every strap, was put to the severest test, and bridles and bits were carefully examined.

Finally, when nothing more remained to be done, the Boomers mounted and rode to a point half a mile south of this town, where a wide stretch of sand, with no more than an eighth of a mile of water, formed the only barrier to Oklahoma. Here they formed a line, and patiently waited for the signal to break for the Promised Land.

At the main ford, a mile below other horsemen had gathered in advance of the long procession of wagons which ranged up the river in one line and to the top of the bluff in another. To the northeast, hidden from view by a clump of tumbles, many wagons whose owners were too timid to trust the river were stationed in readiness to cross the railroad bridge as soon as the troops should give the word. A number of Deputy United States Marshals were noticed among the horsemen at both fording places, and although there was any amount of grumbling, they retained their positions in the line and seemed determined to make the race with the others. Events show that they did so and an infinite amount of trouble will grow out of this very fast.

Lieut. Adair, with his troops, forded the stream at 11 o'clock, and the men were stationed at intervals on the further banks, so they could guard every known fording place. Previous to crossing, the Lieutenant had announced that at noon, sun time, he would order his bugle to sound the recall, and that this would be the signal for the rush to begin. At 11:30 o'clock one of the troopers discovered a wagon crossing, half a mile below him, and succeeded in heading it off. The old Texan who owned it swore roundly, but was forced to follow the sand drifts to where the Lieutenant was stationed, and was kept there until after the signal was sounded.

As the supreme moment drew near the excitement increased. Every person who had not arranged to cross had secured an advantageous position on a housetop or the great bluff just north of the town and was feverishly waiting. Not a few field glasses were brought into requisition. Oklahoma is visible for miles from any elevation in Purcell and seems a succession of beautiful valleys, with well-timbered ridges between. The Times' correspondent, glass in hand, stood 100 feet above the river and had an uninterrupted view of the panorama.

At 11:40 o'clock the conductor of the long special train on the siding gave the signal. The engines whistled shrilly and the special began its trip toward Oklahoma. It seemed as if every man on the train shouted when the train moved, and a moment later the sound of the pistol shots told that the Texans were firing their salute. Gathering speed, the train soon came opposite the ford, and then a furious fusillade broke out. It was continued until the train dashed around the bend, preparatory to crossing the bridge.

The succeeding twenty minutes were the longest of the day to those on the banks of the river. Lieut. Adair could be seen calmly sitting watching, and all eyes were centered on him.

Suddenly he is seen to motion to the soldier near him, and the next moment the cheerful strains of the recall are sounded. In an instant the scene changes. There is a mighty shout, and the advance guard of the invading army is racing like mad across the sands toward the narrow expanse of water. The north and south wings seem to strike the water together. In they go, helter-skelter, every rider intent on reaching the bank first. There goes a horse into a deep hole and his rider falls headlong out of the saddle. Before he can arise he is apparently crushed by another animal, which has stumbled and fallen in. The crowd on shore gives a cry of horror, which speedily changed to relief as neither man is hurt. They struggled to their feet, and as one of the horses breaks away and joins the flying host his owner surges after him, with the water up to his waist, and the other man remounts.

By this time the swiftest ones are over and speeding up the slope of the nearest ridge. The head of the line of wagons is just emerging from the riverbed. At this rate it will not be ten minutes before all are across. The racers take different directions, but most of the wagons northeast. The glass detects dozens of men miles beyond the river. These are Boomers who have been hiding.

There goes a white flag raised over what appears to be a wagon two miles away. "That's Dr. Johnson's claim," said an anxious watcher, "and the doctor is riding for it for all he's worth. I reckon he will lose it though." The doctor does lose it, dugout and all, unless he can prove that the man who hoisted the flag was on the ground before 10 o'clock.

Six shots in rapid succession, coming from a point a mile away, attract attention. "They're settling one dispute already," remarked a man who has pioneered all through the West.

"Pashaw, they're only giving notice of preemption," said another.

More shots were heard, but no one could satisfactorily explain them.

Soon the last wagon had crossed the main ford and the canvas covers began to dot the Oklahoma landscape. Within thirty minutes Purcell had resumed its normal aspect.

At the Santa Fe Bridge the mode of crossing was so wearisome that after two wagons had been hauled across by hand the Boomers became discouraged and decided to brave the dangers of the ford after all. So they took the back track and about 2 o'clock were safely in Oklahoma and headed for the north. As every claim within ten miles of Purcell had already been taken, these people will travel late tonight to make up for lost time.

About 5 o'clock reports from the front began to come in, and they give a fair indication of the state of affairs which today's grand rush precipitated. The businessmen of Purcell were largely represented among the horsemen who led the precession. Two of these headed for a claim which one had long since staked out and which the other coveted. They made first-class running, but the covetous man won by a few yards and set a stake. The other declared that he would hold the claim, and began work on a dugout. The situation was waxing when mutual friends, who had secured the adjoining 160 acres, came along and succeeded in preventing "gun play." The dispute was not settled, however, and tonight both men claim the homestead.

Another merchant named Harness made a noble ride and came up to his selected claim only to find Tom McNally, Deputy United States Marshall, in possession. Harness dismounted, and by and by his wagon arrived with a tent, which he proceeded to put up. McNally asserted that he had been sent into the territory by Lieut. Adair and was therefore entitled to take up a claim. This argument is worthless, because McNally was in Government employ at the time, and even if he wished to resign he could not well do so all by himself. McNally is a tough citizen and is considered extremely dangerous when drunk. He swears tonight that he will hold the claim and Harness is equally positive he will not.

The Purcell merchants who have preempted claims today have clearly violated the spirit of the law. They do not intend to live upon them, and most of them will make no improvements at present beyond building shanties or tents or making a dugout. In the meantime home seekers will roam through Oklahoma and perhaps lose their lives in contesting claims with other needy men.

A dispatch from Oklahoma City tonight says that at 12 o'clock men seemed to rise out of the ground there, and in an incredibly short time a town site was staked off and lots placed on the market. These men dropped from last night's southbound train when it slowed up for the station. It is estimated that 200 left the same train between Guthrie and Oklahoma. It is reported that two men have been killed eight miles from Purcell.

Identity,

Yesterday, instead of vision-questing or sitting around a fire with a shaman, I was channel-surfing on the satellite service (cable), and came upon a movie I missed in the theatres, the Tome Cruise/Nicole Kidman vehicle, Far and Away.

The film tells the story of Irish immigrants from the Auld Sod (Ireland) to Oklahoma Territory. It contains a gritty portrayal of class conflict and lack of opportunity in Ireland, poverty and crime and exploitation in turn of the century Boston. The Holy Grail for the downtrodden Irish is “free land” in Oklahoma.

“Free land” indeed. Locked into that phrase, “free land,” was the story of my people, a story that eluded the pretty people on the big screen. (By the way, can you imagine how the people on reservations would appear if malnutrition, alcohol, and regular beatings produced the appearance of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman?)

The “free land coveted in Far and Away came from lands declared “surplus” after the Curtis Act [similar to the Dawes Act, but focused on the Five Tribes] destroyed the reservations of the Five Tribes in Indian Territory: Choctaw, Chickasaw, Seminole, Muscogee (Creek), and my people, the Cherokee. The Dawes Commission went out and took rolls, a census of those who would voluntarily receive a piece of the tribal homelands, a process that proceeded in spite of resistance led by the Muscogee Chitto Harjo and the Cherokee Redbird Smith.

The lands allotted by the Dawes Commission had been given to the tribes in perpetuity (and also involuntarily) in exchange for the land of their ancestors in the Southeastern U.S. The Indians were removed at gunpoint in an ethnic cleansing noted, if at all, in American history as the Trail of Tears. Cherokees lost their sacred lands and third of their people. My great-great-great grandmother made that walk, a lucky survivor.

The climatic land rush of the film visually recreates the famous photos [taken by famed photographer William S. Prettyman] of the run for the Cherokee Strip. The Strip, also known as the Cherokee Outlet, was given to the tribe as a guaranteed path to the rich bison hunting on the Southern Plains. That used of the land was rendered moot with the near-extinction of the bison, which of course did more harm to the Plains Indians than to the Cherokee.

My Dutch immigrant great-grandfather was an unsuccessful participant in that very land rush. My Cherokee great-great grandfather was a victim of it. None of this was adverted to in the film. The only Indians on the screen were extras in crowd scenes. Yes, I am a thoroughly modern Indian, and even am a fan of Tom Cruise. From the jet jock in Top Gun to the wounded warrior in Born on the Fourth of July to the jaded doctor in Stanley Kubrick’s final effort, Eyes Wide Shut, I appreciate the entertainment I have received from the actor.

But yesterday, channel-surfing on the satellite service, I found myself in tears. And I was not crying for the Irish.
The Dalton Gang’s Last Raid
By Eyewitness to History³⁴
Around 9:30 the morning of October 5, 1892 five members of the Dalton Gang (Grat Dalton, Emmett Dalton, Bob Dalton, Bill Powers and Dick Broadwell) rode into the small town of Coffeyville, Kansas. Their objective was to achieve financial security and make outlaw history by simultaneously robbing two banks. From the beginning, their audacious plan went astray. The hitching post where they intended to tie their horses had been torn down due to road repairs. This forced the gang to hitch their horses in a near-by alley—a fateful decision.

To disguise their identity, (Coffeyville was the Dalton's hometown) two of the Daltons wore false beards and wigs. Despite this, the gang was recognized as they crossed the town's wide plaza, split up and entered the two banks. Suspicious townspeople watched through the banks' wide front windows as the robbers pulled their guns. Someone on the street shouted, "The bank is being robbed!" and the citizens quickly armed themselves—taking up firing positions around the banks.

The ensuing firefight lasted less than fifteen minutes. A brief moment in time in which four townspeople lost their lives, four members of the Dalton Gang were gunned down and a small Kansas town became part of history.
Anatomy of a Gun Battle
David Elliott was editor of the local newspaper and published a detailed account soon after the gun battle. We pick up his story as the desperadoes dismount and head towards their targets:

. . . After crossing the pavement the men quickened their pace, and the three in the front file went into C.M. Condon & Co.'s bank at the southwest door, while the two in the rear ran directly across the street to the First National Bank and entered the front door of that institution. The gentleman [the observer] was almost transfixed with horror. He had an uninterrupted view of the inside of Condon and Co.'s bank, and the first thing that greeted his vision was a Winchester in the hands of one of the men, pointed towards the cashier's counter in the bank. He quickly recovered his lost wits, and realizing the truth of the situation, he called out to the men in the store that “The bank is being robbed!” Persons at different points on the Plaza heard the cry and it was taken up and quickly passed around the square.

At the same time several gentlemen saw the two men enter the First National Bank, suspecting their motive, followed close at their heels and witnessed them “holding up” the men in this institution. They gave the alarm on the east side of the Plaza. A “call to arms” came simultaneously with the alarm and in less time than it takes to relate the fact a dozen men with Winchesters and revolvers in their hands were ready to resist the escape of the unwelcome visitors.