American Indians in Leadership

To most Americans, the names of Squanto, Sacagawea, Geronimo, and Sitting Bull are relatively familiar—although how they are described usually depends on their relationship to the White culture of their day. Their individual histories are rarely plumbed; we make the mistake of seeing them only as aides or enemies in the story of “Manifest Destiny.” But within Native American society, these and other individuals are remembered for their contributions to their own cultures and communities. And, in recent decades, a growing scholarly community of historians, biographers, anthropologists, and ethnographers have begun to explore their lives. In this issue of History Now, our contributors offer portraits of American Indians you thought you knew and others you and your students should know.

Theda Perdue’s “Nancy Ward, Cherokee Beloved Woman” provides insight into how a Native American society constructed gender roles. Cherokee women’s centrality in crop cultivation and their dominance in the household gave them considerable authority. And, although warfare fell within the masculine domain, women like Nanye’hi, or Nancy Ward, were known both to participate in battle and to play critical roles in diplomacy. Ward, in her capacity as a Beloved Woman, spoke publicly during the postwar treaty negotiations between Americans and Cherokee. But American efforts to “civilize” her people altered the male and female roles within Cherokee society and eroded female power. Ward did not live to see the Trail of Tears or the government policies that diminished women’s authority within Cherokee culture. But Cherokee women did not become invisible. Long after Nancy Ward’s death, they could be found in reform movements and as members of tribal councils among the modern Cherokee tribes.

In “Inventing a Past: Molly Brant’s Life in Leadership,” James Carson alerts us to the difficulties of reconstructing a life that has left few traditional historical sources. To tell the story of Brant, a brilliant diplomat and a critically important liaison between the British and Mohawks during the American Revolution, Carson must rely on a deep understanding of her cultural heritage and the events that shaped her life choices. As the author reminds us, Brant grew up in a society that gave women central economic, familial, and political roles, in sharp contrast to the gendered restrictions of the White colonial world around her. Her rise to leadership is a tribute to her individual talents and wisdom, but it is also a product of a cultural context far different from the restrictive Anglo-American world in which a woman operated.

Bruce E. Johansen’s essay, “Ely S. Parker (Donehogawa): Civil War Hero, Ethnologist, Political Leader,” offers us a portrait of a man far less well known than Sitting Bull. Donehogawa was one of the Iroquois who managed, in the first half of the nineteenth century, to gain prominence in White American society. During the Civil War, he served as a lieutenant colonel under Ulysses S. Grant, and as Grant’s secretary. After the war, President Grant appointed him the first Native American Commissioner of Indian Affairs. Among his own people, Parker was the chief executive of the Iroquois League. He had planned to become an attorney, but was denied certification because he was an American Indian and thus not a US citizen. He altered his career course, becoming a civil engineer and an expert in ethnology. Over the course of his life he collected and described his Iroquois, or Haudenosaunee, history, ghost writing sections of a classic study of the Iroquois nations. In 1876, he was appointed New York City’s building superintendent, a post he held until his death in 1905. His great nephew added to the reputation of the Parker name, becoming a museum director and a prolific author.

In “Sitting Bull: Last of the Great Chiefs,” Robert M. Utley recounts not only the rise and fall of a great Lakota chief but the destruction of the Lakota way of life. Born in 1831, Sitting Bull rose quickly within the ranks of Lakota warriors; by 1869, he was named chief of all the Lakota people. When, in 1870, the Great Sioux Reservation was created, Sitting Bull and others resisted settlement. They found an area where they could continue their lives as roaming buffalo hunters. They abandoned warfare against US troops until 1876, when Crazy Horse led his Lakotas into battle with “Long Hair” Custer and his men. Although Sitting Bull, now an “Old Man Chief,” was no longer a warrior, he was blamed for the debacle known as Custer’s Last Stand. Sitting Bull and his followers fled across the border to Canada where they struggled to sustain their traditional ways. But local Indians saw them as interlopers and the buffalo were no longer plentiful. In 1881, Sitting Bull’s people surrendered to US authorities at Fort Buford, their roaming culture ended. When in 1889, the Ghost Dance religion arose as a threat to the White communities, Sitting Bull became a wanted man. He was murdered by Indian police, at the behest of the US Army.

In “Gertrude Simmons Bonnin (Zitkala-Ša) and the National Council of American Indians: Leading the Way for Indigenous Self-Representation,” Michael P. Taylor reconstructs the life of a Sioux who became one of the leading advocates for Native American citizenship and equality. Born in 1876, Bonnin was among the children taken far from her community and family to receive an education designed to erase her cultural identity as a Sioux. Despite the abuse meted out to her at this school, she chose to continue her education at Earlham College where she won a statewide oratorical contest. The theme of her speech would remain a central theme in her long life of reform activity. In it, she lauded the United States but reminded her audience that the nation needed to atone for its sins toward the American Indians. By 1916, she had moved to Washington, DC, where she began a life as a champion of Indian rights. After the passage of the Indian Citizenship Act in 1924, Bonnin continued her reform work, organizing a grassroots movement that could further the representation of all Native Americans, not only the well educated and successful among them.

Joseph Bruchac’s “‘Show Them What an Indian Can Do’: The Example of Jim Thorpe” brings us the story of one of the twentieth century’s greatest athletes, a man who, from his student days at the American Indian Industrial School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, excelled at track and field. Coached by Pop Warner, Thorpe and his friend Lewis Tewanima won meets against major colleges. When this all-around athlete was asked what events he wanted to enter at the Olympics, Thorpe replied “All of ’em.” It was a reasonable comment: Thorpe excelled in track, in football, in basketball, and in baseball, a sport he played for several major league teams until moving over to a career in football. Thorpe’s success came at a time of dark days for American Indians, including his own Sac and Fox tribe. Inequality and racism followed him throughout his career. When the Olympic committee learned that he had earned much needed money playing semi-pro baseball while at Carlisle, they stripped him of his Olympic gold medals. It was not until long after his death that the medals were reinstated. In his late life, Thorpe traveled around the country delivering lectures on his own life and career, his views on contemporary sports, and issues affecting Native Americans.

In her essay, “Indigenous Americans in World War II: The Navajo Code Talkers,” Laura Tohe provides a vital reminder of the role Native Americans played in the Pacific theater. Despite the forced “acculturation” inflicted on the children of the Navajo and other Native people, many young Native men answered the call to fight to defend the United States during the war with Japan. Among them were some 431 Navajo soldiers who used their native language to convey critical messages among the American armed forces. Laura Tohe’s father was one of these Code Talkers. Here she shares with us what she learned as she interviewed these heroes, including how they devised their unbreakable code and how they maintained the secrecy to which they were sworn for many years after the war. She also offers us critical insights into the ways in which Navajo culture prepared these men for the rigors of military life. It was not until 1982 that the contribution of the Code Talkers was at last publicly honored. As Tohe points out, the code they devised was “quick, accurate, and never deciphered or broken,” and it helped to win the war.

As a special feature, this issue includes two video lectures by experts in American Indian history:

“Teaching the History of Federal Indian Law through Native American Literature” by N. Bruce Duthu (Samson Occom Professor of Native American Studies, Dartmouth College)

and

“Origins of the First Thanksgiving” by Jean Dennison (Associate Professor of American Indian Studies and Co-Director of the Center for American Indian and Indigenous Studies, University of Washington)

Both of these lectures were recorded in November 2020 for “New Perspectives in American Indian History,” a Gilder Lehrman Institute workshop funded by the Robert David Lion Gardiner Foundation.

As always, we hope that the essays, videos, and other resources in History Now will be of lasting value to you in your teaching and research.

Carol Berkin, Editor
Nicole Seary, Associate Editor