PLAYING COWBOYS WITH THE INDIANS

The speaker discusses the issue of land theft from Native American tribes, specifically the Sioux tribe and their sacred land in the Black Hills. They mention a lawsuit filed by the Lakota tribe and the Supreme Court ruling that the land was stolen. The Sioux tribe refuses monetary compensation and wants their land back. The speaker shares their personal experience of living on a reservation and the importance of respect and learning from Native American culture. They also mention their wife's decision to become a teacher and their time living in Sonosti, New Mexico, where they formed a friendship with a Navajo man named Daniel. The speaker offers to help Daniel with a cattle drive, despite previous negative experiences with white people assisting. Daniel eventually agrees, and the speaker looks forward to participating. ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Well, welcome back everyone to my sub stack here on the 11th day of January in the year of 2024. And I'm kind of going to depart from, in some respects, I'm going to depart from history, especially founding era and many of the things that I've been touching on with my sub stacks in the past few months. And, but I did a program on Republic Broadcasting Network last Sunday night with some really great panelists. And we had a round table discussion and our discussion was based on the lands that were granted to the Indian tribes, the American Indians in the 1868 treaties, and especially a large tract of land that was ceded to the Sioux tribe in the Black Hills, which is their sacred, very sacred to them. That land is very sacred. And I think most of us of the Caucasian race are pretty much unaware of exactly how close the American people are to the soil, to the property and the land, which means so much to them. And of course, you know, the U.S. government decided, well, we want that land. So suddenly gold was discovered in the Black Hills. And then the U.S. military, the U.S. Army set up posts and forts to guard the passageways to protect the people who were going in onto these people's property. And as the wonderful late Floyd Red Crow Westerman used to say, you know, Custer died for your sins. So, yes, the land was stolen. But then a lawsuit has come up, filed by the Lakota tribe. And the Supreme Court has ruled that, yes, the land was stolen and they have offered the Sioux people, the various sects of the Sioux tribe, they have offered them a monetary award or a monetary, you know, whatever compensation, which the Lakotas have refused and said, we don't want your money. We want our land back. Well, talking with several of my friends who know that my family and I once lived on a reservation and also the fact that that's part of the history I love, you know, looking into that as well. You know, I love that history. And having actually lived on a reservation, it gives you a little bit different perspective. I know it gave our family a different perspective. Our son was the only white kid in his high school on the reservation. And so he knows what it's like to be in a minority. And I told him at the time that that happened, I said, this is a great lesson for you, son. You're going to get to look at things in a little bit different light. Well, remarkably, his fellow teammates on his high school football team elected him one of the co-captains. And at the time it happened, I told him, son, that is one great honor that they respected you so much that they wanted you to be one of their leaders. I said, that is an accomplishment. And hold that dear. Well, because of this, and you know, I've written some articles that have been published and I'm very, very proud of them in the Navajo Times and unitednativeamerica.com. And I think my purpose is to try to show to people that when it comes to life in this world, the only respect you get is the respect that is returned for the respect you give. And I learned an awful lot from these people. It was a really great experience. And so for that reason, and to kind of accommodate some of my friends who asked me to do this, I have decided to go ahead and kind of put this thing together for today. And I certainly hope that you folks will like it. But I think it was 1990 and at that time my wife was a banker. We had two children, a daughter and a son. And we were, it was one day after work and we were sitting around talking and my wife says, well, you know what, I've always wanted to be. And I said, no. Of course, as I may have said, she was a banker at the time. And so I said, no, what have you always wanted to be? And she said, I've always wanted to be a teacher. And I said, well, go in tomorrow, give the bank your notice and go find out at the college. I know you've got a degree, but go to the college and find out exactly what it is you need to get certified as a teacher, if that's what you want to do. So she did. And she went to a local college. We were living in Georgia at the time. She went to Valdosta State. And she completed her teaching requirements. And so then because one of the things that we had really enjoyed doing was to travel, especially in the spring and in the fall, to Indian Powwows. And yes, those were held in Georgia. We went to a very good one in Albany. We also went to one in Canton because people, you know, we have to stop and remember that this property at one time was all inhabited by the indigenous peoples. And again, let's get back to that respect thing. But anyway, when she completed her requirements for certification as a teacher, we started talking about, well, why don't we go and see what's available through the Bureau of Indian Affairs Schools? And we did. And we traveled out and went through Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, went through some other places. And she was offered a job one evening at a school in Sonosti, New Mexico. And we were at the motel that evening and she was trying to decide if she wanted to take it or not. And she decided that she did. And so we went back to Georgia, packed up all of our stuff, got loaded and took off and went to the small town of Sonosti in New Mexico. Now, Sonosti is quite a distance into the reservation. So we were given housing in which to live. And it was in kind of a community type atmosphere built around the school. Well, we later found out that, as many times happens in these instances, when the school was built, someone got a government contract because they knew somebody in Congress or paid somebody off in Congress. That's the way it works, you know. And so this company got the contract to build the school at Sonosti. And unfortunately they didn't, you know, they didn't even put foundations in some of the buildings. They took all the shortcuts in the world. And then, as you know, as is standard practice so many times, the company that did not build these buildings to last filed bankruptcy. And so there was no way to recover, you know, the funds. But many of the buildings had been condemned on the campus. But still, you know, there was still, well, there were some trailers, you know, and double wides and what have you that were used for classrooms and other stuff. But my wife took her job very seriously. And she, you know, she learned sign language. She learned to sign. And we began to pick up some words in Navajo and the ability to talk to some people. And one of our neighbors was a bus driver for the school. And his name was Daniel Yazzie. And Daniel came over one day. And my son and I had put up some horseshoe boxes. And we were out pitching horseshoes. And Daniel came over and he said, do you mind if I participate? And we said, no, no, please do. And so for a couple of weeks there, usually in the evenings, it was kind of a ritual. You know, we met out there and pitched horseshoes and we talked quite a bit. And Daniel told me a lot about his family and a lot about, you know, their heritage and what have you. And we became, you know, kind of friends. So one day Daniel starts talking. It's getting near Labor Day. And so Daniel starts talking about the cattle drive that they're having that weekend. And this is where, pardon me, this is where they in the wintertime or as it's nearing, you know, fall, that they go up into the Chiska Mountains, high into the Chiska Mountains. And that is where they have what many Navajos call sheep camps. But they have sheep and they have cattle. And in the high country. And that is where they keep them in the summertime because there's a lot more grass up there than there is on the desert plains, a lot more water, all of the requirements for their cattle herds. So Daniel is telling me about the fact that that weekend they're getting ready to go up into the mountains and round up the cattle and drive them down into the low country for the winter. And because the weather is not near as bad, the water doesn't freeze up, you know, all those things that would make sense. And so he's talking about it. And I asked him, I said, Daniel, do you need some help? And it was really funny because, I mean, it was almost instantaneous. And he said, no. And I was like, OK, you know, did I hit a tough spot, a tender spot here or something? And so, you know, a couple of days later, we're still pitching horseshoes in the evening. And Daniel says, well, looks like we're going to be shorthanded this week for the cattle drive. And a couple of my cousins can't make it. And it's usually a big family tradition for the Navajos, the cattle drive. And he said a couple of them can't make it. They've got different things going on. So we're going to be a little bit shorthanded. And I said, well, Daniel, I said, you sure you don't need some help? You don't want me to go? No. And it was like, OK, you know, maybe I need to keep my mouth shut here. Maybe I'm stepping somewhere where I shouldn't. And then he turned to me and I had to ask. I said, Daniel, why? Why do you not want help? And he said, because he said it has never worked for us with biligana. Now, biligana is the Navajo word for white person. So and he related to me a an event that had happened with them a few years before when they had taken an Anglo teacher on the cattle drive who said that, you know, he would be happy to go help. And he got up there. And after about five or six hours, he decided he was worn out and he needed to come home. Well, as Daniel would tell me, you know, we can't do that because we don't have the personnel or the people. Same thing to bring you back if you get tired. We just don't. We can't do it. We can't disrupt the whole thing for that. And I said, Daniel. And he said, yes. And I said, let's a kiss, which is the Navajo word for friend. I said, look, you may kill me, but I won't quit. And he said, OK. OK. He said, all right. He said Friday morning. He said, I'll come over, pick you up. You can ride with us. Me and my brother. And I said, OK, fine. I'll be ready. Well, I didn't realize at the time that the time he meant on Friday morning, because you have to understand if you've ever lived on a reservation, they go by what's called Indian time. And that means they'll be there when they get ready or when they need to. You very seldom see a Navajo with a wristwatch. So it was kind of an interesting deal because he came over to get me at three o'clock in the morning. Well, the knock on the door, I jump up, I get dressed. I see, you know, and I told him, I said, well, you didn't tell me exactly what time. He said, I told you morning. OK. So anyway, we get in his pickup truck and we ride up high up into the Chusco Mountains and we get there to the sheep camp. And there is a big shed and there's a, you know, kind of like a barn. And there's some corrals that are out there. And so we were I noticed that there were, you know, maybe eight, ten, twelve Navajo men there and they were all saddling up and they were all getting ready. It was just about daybreak by this time and maybe a little after daybreak. And so they're all saddling up and I'm there waiting. And Daniel says, oh, there's your horse, Kim. There you ride. You take Kim. And I said, well, what about the tack? And he said, well, you'll have to wait until everyone has picked out their equipment, what they want to get. And then you go in and you find a saddle, whatever you need, and put it on Kim and then we'll be ready to go. Well, as I'm tacking up and getting ready, all of the Navajo men are just chattering back and forth. I mean, you know, just And I at that time had not picked up enough understanding of the Navajo language to know what they were talking about. But there was one thing I knew for darn sure. They were talking about me. And so finally I looked over at Daniel and I said, Daniel, what are they saying? And he said, oh, they're just making friendly bets on how long you last. And I said, OK, that's fair. Not a problem. So then we get together as a group and the strategy is laid out. Who's going where to round up? Who's going into what part of the areas to round up their cattle? Because they're all free range up there. And they try to stay in a specific area, you know, apart from other people who have cattle. But, you know, there are no fences or what have you. So, you know, you have to go in and, you know, you look at the brand. They brand, you know, they have a bar in on the cattle and even their horses. And so we were getting ready for that. And Daniel says, hey, look, you go with my brother Ray, who was the youngest of the of the Yazzie clan. And he said, you go with Ray and his son Fudge. So it was about a year or two before I found out what Fudge's real name was, but that was what he was called. He was called Fudge by every member of the family, a young teenager. And he said, you go with Ray and his young son and they'll show you what to do. So we go down into the mountains, you know, the side of the mountains. And so and then we start rounding up. And let me tell you, folks, this is some tough country. I mean, there are some ravines. It is tough up there. I mean, really tough. And so, Daniel, you know, they had gone in a different direction. So I'm working, you know, Ray and Fudge will point to me. They didn't say anything, but they pointed to me on how to get various, you know, what areas to go into, where to look for the cattle and all the other stuff. And so we're working. I mean, it's a really strenuous morning. I mean, it's getting, you know, up about midday. And suddenly I heard this blood curdling scream from higher in the mountains. And at first I thought, you know, having grown up in the Appalachians, I thought it was a cat. Sounded very similar. And I, you know, after I heard it the first time, I kind of shuddered. And then I went, pardon me. And then I went down and worked my way up. And then I heard the scream again. And that was just too much for me. I went riding over to where Ray and Fudge were at the time. And I said, what was that scream? And that was about the time that I began to learn about that wonderful Navajo humor. Because Ray rides up beside me, puts his finger to his lips, and he says, shhh, quiet. There could be Indians around here. Got me. And then we headed up, back up the mountain. And I just went along behind him. And I found out at that, when we got back up to the sheep camp or the cattle camp, I found out that the, that was a call that came from Sister Fanny, who, you know, one of the women of the tribe. And she had some interesting stories because back under the Eisenhower administration, you know, she had been shipped off the reservation and had been shipped to Los Angeles. And Eisenhower had this program to where he was going to just take especially the women. And most people don't even know about this. I didn't know about it at the time. But they were going to take especially the women. They were going to take them to high population centers. And in essence, what the plan was, was to breed the Indians out of existence to where everything would be mixed breed. So a lot of the Navajo women had gone to Los Angeles. A lot of them had gone to Phoenix and even one of the other sisters had been sent to Chicago of all places. And yes, they had all three married Anglos, but it didn't work out. And they were back on the reservation. But anyway, the cattle drive was just, you know, three days long. And no, I didn't quit. And the one thing I was so very proud of was that at the end of the last day, which the cattle drive ended for us on a night with a full moon at about 11 o'clock at night when we finally got the cattle down to the low country. And that was just a, you know, it was Daniel and I were the only two left. The rest of them had had to leave for one reason or another. And so I had. And then it was kind of ironic. I noticed that after that I was treated and my family was treated much differently by many of the Navajo families. And then, you know, after September, October, then it's November. And so one day Daniel comes over and he says to me, he said, Shema, which mean, you know, which is the Navajo word for grandma said, but he was talking about his mother. And he said, Shema, ask if you and your family would like to come to us or down to her place for Thanksgiving dinner. And I said, sure. Yeah, we're really, you know, we're honored that you would ask us. So the day comes on Thanksgiving and we go down. And when we get there now, folks, remember Indian time when we first got there, there might have been five or six people there. And I thought, well, that's the time they told me to be here. So that'll probably be the only people who are here, just very close immediate family. But as we were talking and, you know, kind of mulling around, suddenly more people start coming in, more people start coming in. And at some point in time, my son walks over to me kind of quietly and he says, Dad, have you noticed we are the only white people here? So I went over to Daniel and I hadn't really paid that much attention. I mean, I saw, but then I realized after looking around that there weren't that many Biligana. So just us. So I walked over to Daniel and Ray. They were standing together. And I said, guys, I said, you didn't, your mother didn't invite any other white teachers from the school because there's several. And Daniel says, no, no, no, we just invited you and your family. And I said, can you tell me why? And Daniel says, yes, we can tell you why. When you first came here, you pitched in. You wanted to help. You went on the cattle drive. You've helped us build corrals. You've helped us build fences. You've learned how to weld in Navajo, which was a joke because welding in Navajo is wire. You wire things together and they call it Navajo welding. So it was, you know, we wired fence posts and other things and tried to put things together. But anyway, he says, you came here and you didn't come here to tell us that we're a bunch of heathens and you treated us with respect. And that is the reason that mom wanted you to come. And it meant an awful lot to me when they said that, but Daniel then looked at me and he said, well, what do you think? And I looked around and there was, you know, maybe 35, 40 Navajos there ready to, and they, the dinners were being set up on various tables and all the other stuff. And Daniel walks over to me and he says, well, what do you think? And I said, well, now I know how Custer felt. Daniel had to tell the entire group what I had just said, and he did so in Navajo. And there was a lot of laughter and people were coming by, you know, that I hadn't met yet, shaking hands, slapping me on the back, you know, quite a few different things. And our family was just, you know, we eventually bought several horses that for our own use, and because I love to explore the reservation on horseback, and especially to do so with my young son, teenager at the time. And, you know, our daughter would go and my wife loved to do it as well. So we really enjoyed it. But the problem was, is there was nowhere that Anglos could keep horses, because you couldn't have any of the land, and we were on the BIA property. So Daniel's mother tells Daniel to tell them to use their corral for our horses, no charge, and that we could put them there. And we did. And that was just the beginning. You know, a few years later, I'm going to tell you some more things later about the wonderful Navajo people and how much I respect them. But a few years later, my wife was transferred to the Tohono O'odham reservation near Tucson. And so with, you know, sadness, we left the Navajos and went to the Tohono O'odham tribe. But also every time that it came time for a cattle drive, which we really enjoyed doing with the Navajos, and you had one in the spring, usually Memorial Day, and then you had the one around in September at Labor Day. So here we are, and we're down there, and I get in touch with Daniel. As a matter of fact, Daniel, his wife, Linda, came down, actually drove down from New Mexico, drove all the way down to Tucson to visit with us on a couple of occasions, which we were really happy about. And, you know, that they would come that far and talk to us, and they wanted to, you know, keep our friendship going and talk to each other. So for several years, we had done two cattle drives a year with our Navajo friends, and we would go back and, you know, pull the horse trailer and take our animals. So finally, you know, I stopped and thought about it, and I wanted to write an article about my experiences there. And I was just really, really happy when the Navajo Times, the Navajo Nation newspaper, that they asked me for permission to reprint that article that I had written for an Internet publication, and the Internet was new back then, and so they asked me if it was okay if they published that, and I said I would be more than honored. And so they did. And so folks, just to kind of hope I won't bore you, but I would like to read that article for you. Okay, here we go. And when I wrote this, I put in, in the beginning, a preface, and it says, Author's Note. I wrote this article several years back and was most fortunate to have it published in the Navajo Times, the newspaper of the Navajo Nation. Our children's, as well as our own experiences while we lived among these people, are still treasures to us today. Being immersed in another culture was enlightening and challenging. We still treasure the friendships molded in the high plains of New Mexico among several families. It was our pleasure to spend so many hours with. When our son left for Iraq in 2004, these wonderful people held a native ceremony for his safe return. Our lives have been so much richer for the time we spent with these wonderful people. Now here's the actual article. A multitude of memories swarmed in my head as I prepared to head for the Four Corners area of New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, and Colorado in this year's cattle drive. Has it really been ten years since I first had the opportunity to play cowboys with the Indians? Ten years ago, my family and I moved to the Navajo Indian Reservation. My wife had accepted a job there teaching in a Bureau of Indian Affairs school. Even though she was transferred to the reservation two years later, we have maintained contact with our Navajo friends. Some years, our contact is centered on the spring or fall cattle gatherings and subsequent cattle drives. Actually, being invited that first year was quite a task. And I go through that. I'm not going to reiterate. Well, yes, I will. Actually, being invited that first year was quite a task. Our next door neighbor in the school housing was one of the bus drivers. His name is Daniel Yazzie. Daniel and I have begun conversing over several games of horseshoes. Daniel told me about the upcoming fall cattle drive that was to take place that weekend. I asked if I might participate and was quickly but politely told no. Well, folks, I really don't want to reiterate all of that. But anyway, you know, I went in the article. I talked about what I just mentioned earlier about Ray telling me that you've got to be quiet. There could be Indians around here. And so anyway, I will go to the other parts of the article. And here it is. It says, even though this plethora of memories came rushing in, reminding me of the wonderful experiences, I knew in my heart that this cattle drive would be different. The family patriarch had passed away this past November. He had fallen and broken a hip and succumbed, as many do, to a lethal dose of pneumonia contracted in the hospital in Durango, Colorado. Because of his age, he had never really taken part in any of the gatherings or drives in the past 10 years. But he was always there. It would indeed be different this time without Che. Now, folks, Che is the Navajo word for grandpa or grandfather. The 400-mile trek from southern Arizona to Sonosti, New Mexico was uneventful except for a flat on the horse trailer as we approached the Zuni reservation. We made a couple of stops along the way to get the horses out of the trailer and walk them around to let them stretch out and relieve the monotony of the ride. The first day of the drive is the gather of the cattle at the winter pasture. To accomplish this, we break up into teams of two and go in all directions to drive the cattle back to the waterhole. By the time we arrive there, the oldest daughter of the family has arrived with her crew to provide lunch to a group of hungry and thirsty cowboys and cowgirls. During the meal, a lot of good-natured kidding goes on. No one is immune to the merciless tirade of jokes. After everyone's appetite is satiated, the 11-mile drive to the home corral gets underway. This year the temperature is unusually warm. Somewhere about halfway, the heat and the dust combine to take their toll on the entire group. There is a lot of switching off from horseback to the cabs of pickup trucks. These trucks are pulling the trailers containing the calves that have tired to the point of exhaustion and would otherwise bring the drive to a standstill. The fantastic scenery of the high desert plateau with its beautiful mesas and vistas surely makes all the aches and pains recede to the back of the mind. Finally, the corral comes into sight. The cattle are driven into the corral with the help of several from the family who have remained at home. Horses are unsaddled, rubbed down, watered, fed, and led to the various corrals. Tired, worn-out cowboys and cowgirls grab something liquid, collapse, and wait for nourishment. The meal is eaten, and the preparations for sleep occur almost immediately. Dawn of the second day begins as feeding horses and making preparations for the long day of riding. In the first matter of business, the family matriarch makes the selection of barren heifers and steers to be saved and sold at market. Then all the remaining cattle are released from the corrals, and the drive for the summer's pasture and the much-welcomed water begins. We traverse the flat, sandy plains through the pinyons and junipers to the magnificence of the aspens and ponderosa pines. Lunch is a grand affair. The Old Saw Mill is the location as many members of the Navajo family accompany the Navajo ladies who prepared the meal and arrived to feed the many assembled there. The cuisine varies from the traditional Navajo fare, mutton stew and fry bread, to hamburgers and hot dogs. Memories and experiences of those in attendance are painted and spread on the canvas of time as we nourish our bodies for the last part of the drive to the summit. A wholesale transition takes place as we prepare to continue. Many of the family who only arrived for the midday meal now take the mounts of those who have been working since dawn. How wonderful it is for many who have wondered how they will be able to remount considering their intake of the delicious meal. Bessie Lansing, oldest daughter of the Yazzie clan, is lethal to anyone hoping to count calories. Just ask any of the thousands who pass through the BIA schools where Bessie prepared meals for over 30 years. Before we know it, the day is waning and the summit reached. Time is taken to relax and visit with members of the extended Navajo family and then we begin the return trek to the point of origin for the day. This is the time I take a relaxing reflection on the total experience. How wonderful it is to visit with some of the nicest folks on earth. The Navajos are a unique and wonderful people. My life and the life of my family have been made so much fuller and richer by knowing this family and being allowed to be a part of this experience throughout those 10 years. As I ride my chosen path, alone in those beautiful surroundings, I welcome this time to offer my thanks to the spirit of the wonderful grandfather, Che, who meant so much to everyone who had participated in this gathering. Although, as long as I knew him, a spoken language separated us, a common one, the love of this land and the family that is his, united us. Nearing the corral, my horse senses food and rest are just over that next rise. She quickens her pace. I am left with just enough time to thank the creator for allowing me this journey that provides an opening into peace and harmony and a relationship with true friends. Now, I just realized I'm probably going to have to do another podcast on part of this, you know, maybe with my cattle drive on the Tohono O'odham reservation, I'm going to have to try to combine some of these, but I also did cattle drives with those people. Also a very unique experience in the desert of Arizona down near the Mexican border because a lot of people are unaware that the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation, they were formerly called the Papago, but then they changed it with the name Tohono O'odham because it means the people of the desert. And so it was a rather unique experience, but different in a lot of ways. But the camaraderie was still there and the camaraderie was important. You know, I got to live in another world, as did my family for a while. And I had no preconceived notions about Indians because man, I had grown up in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, not too far from Cherokee. Or as one Yankee stopped at one day and asked me a question and said, Hey, can you tell me how far it is to Cherokee? I remember saying, I have no idea what you're talking about. You know, Cherokee, where those Indians live? Okay. Yeah. Okay. Yankee, go home. So anyway, it was a unique experience. I mean, I had been around Indians. One of my close friends when I was a teenager was Walter Rattler, who was a Cherokee. So I guess, you know, I kind of had an affinity for these folks. And, you know, they are good people. They really are. You know, of course, they're like any other race. They've got their bandits and their people who aren't so nice. But I didn't meet many of those. And that, you know, I think is very good. You know, just a wonderful group of people. And I still cherish those friendships to today. But then, you know, I guess it was, gosh, guys, I was just looking at it and it was 21 years ago. I wrote an article. Imagine that. But I wrote an article about, at that time, about some of the atrocities that had been visited upon the American Indian by none other than Abraham Lincoln and that wonderful Yankee army. So if you don't mind, I'm going to read that one for you, too. And then we'll close off. Well, as I stated earlier, folks, this article means an awful lot to me. And I've written quite a few articles over the past 30 years that have been published. You know, and that didn't make me anything better than anybody else, but just a passion that I have. And so that I wrote this article and it was posted within two days at a website called unitednativeamerica.com. And that has just been such an honor for me because it's been posted for 21 years and it's still there. Of all the articles I've written, nothing has ever remained in place at any site for that period of time. But anyway, as I said, I initially wrote this article for the Sierra Times back in the year of 2000 and, you know, what was it, 2003? Yeah. And so then it was just a couple of days, as I said before, I don't mean to be so redundant, please pardon me, but I just wanted to make sure that I get across that I wanted to, I was really impressed that this was there when I saw it. And they sent me an email asking me for permission to post this article, which I certainly granted. But here's the article. Let me get through this for you, because this was one that I wrote with a lot of passion. And here it is. Being a good old Southern boy, you know, perhaps the veneer of lies and historical distortions that surround Abraham Lincoln are beginning to crack. In the movie, Gangs of New York, we finally have a historically correct representation of the real Abraham Lincoln and his policies. Heretofore, many socialistic intellectuals, politicians and historians have whitewashed these policies in order to protect Lincoln's image because of their allegiance to the tyrannical centralization of power he brought to our government. The false sainthood and adulation afforded Abraham Lincoln has its basis in the incorrect assumption he fought a war to free and enslave people of color. To believe this propaganda, one must ignore most everything Lincoln said about the black race and his continued efforts at colonization. Lincoln's treatment of the American Indian has been very much ignored, though not exactly misrepresented. One would find it hard to refute that Abraham Lincoln's political idol was one Henry Clay. Lincoln would say of Henry Clay, and I quote, During my whole political life, I have loved and revered Henry Clay as a teacher and a leader. Unquote. Lincoln delivered the eulogy at the funeral for Clay. When elected president, Lincoln set about implementing Henry Clay's political philosophies. Throughout Clay's political life, he was a strong believer in national socialism and racist in all references to the American Indian. As Secretary of State, Clay would declare, and I quote, The Indians' disappearance from the human family will be no great loss to the world. I do not think them as a race worth preserving. Unquote. This mentality led to the forced walk of all Cherokees from the mountains of Tennessee, North Carolina, and Georgia to Oklahoma during the winter of 1838. Over 20,000 Cherokees were dragged from their homes, which were then plundered and burned. They were forced marched, most of them barefooted to Oklahoma during the dead of winter with the sky for their blanket and the earth for their pillow. Over 4,000 Cherokees died on this march, and it became known as the Trail of Tears. Similar atrocities occurred all through the Lincoln administration. In 1862, the Santee Sioux of Minnesota grew tired of waiting for the $1.4 million they had been promised for the sale of 24 million acres of land to the federal government in 1851. Appeals to President Lincoln from these people fell on deaf ears. What made this even more egregious to the Sioux was the invasion of this yet unpaid-for land by thousands of white settlers. Sound familiar, Lakota? Then, with a very poor crop, in August of 1862, many of the Indians were hungry and facing starvation with the upcoming winter. When Lincoln outright refused to pay the owed money—remember, he had a war to finance—the Indians revolted. Lincoln assigned General John Pope to quell the uprising, and he announced at the beginning of his campaign —now remember, folks, this is shortly after his army got their butts handed to him at Second Manassas by Stonewall Jackson, but that wasn't part of my article, so I had to throw that in there— but here is what General John Pope had to say as he headed off to Minnesota. There is no record that Abraham Lincoln ever challenged that statement. The Indians were quickly defeated in October of 1862, and Pope herded all the Indians—men, women, and children— into forts where military trials were immediately convened. None of the Indians tried were given any semblance of a defense. Their trials lasted approximately ten minutes each. The authorities in Minnesota asked Lincoln to order the immediate execution of all 303 males who had been found guilty. Lincoln was somewhat concerned with how this would play with the Europeans whom he was afraid were about to enter the war on the side of the South. He offered the following compromise to the politicians of Minnesota. If they would pare the list of those to be hung or hanged down to 39, in return Lincoln promised to kill or remove every Indian from the state and provide Minnesota with $2 million in federal funds. Remember, please, the government only owed to sue $1.4 million for the land. So, on December 26, 1862, the Great Emancipator ordered the largest mass execution in American history where the guilt of those to be executed was entirely in doubt. Regardless of how Lincoln defenders seek to play this, it was nothing more than murder to obtain the land of the Santee Sioux and to appease his political cronies in Minnesota. Lincoln's Western armies, using the tactics of murder, rape, burning, and pillaging, simultaneously being used against Southern noncombatants by the Eastern armies, In 1863-64, General Carlton and his subordinate, Colonel Kit Carson, invaded the Navajo land, especially those concentrated in the Canyon de Shea area. Crops were burned, innocents were murdered, women were raped, and the general chaos was reigned upon these noble people simply because, like the Santee Sioux, they demanded from Lincoln what they had been promised, their land, and to be left to hell alone. General Carlton, who was supposed to be found in the area, sound familiar, folks? stated, and I quote, This war will be pursued against you if it takes years until you cease to exist or move again. There was no protest of this policy from Lincoln, the commander-in-chief. The Navajo were forced to march over 300 miles, depending on the route taken, now some of them were over 400 miles, to Bosque Redondo in eastern New Mexico. Over 200 Navajos died on this march, and eventually over 2,000 perished before a treaty was signed in 1868. While at Bosque Redondo, the Navajos suffered the vilest conditions, bitter water, no firewood, and impossible growing conditions for crops. The soldiers and the Mexican guards subjected the women to continuous rape and otherwise humiliating treatment. Children born at this concentration camp were lucky to survive their first few months of life. As our founding fathers did in our Declaration of Independence from the British, the Cherokee Nation listed its grievances with the Union and they declared their unification with the Confederate States on October 28, 1861. These brave people had already observed the atrocities of Lincoln's war criminals and saw through any so-called war for liberation. Quote, When circumstances beyond their control compel one people to sever the ties with which they have long existed between them and another state or confederacy, to contract new alliances and establish new relations for the security of their rights and liberties, it is fit that they should publicly declare the reasons by which their action is justified. Now, folks, again, I'm reading what the Cherokees wrote here. The Cherokee people had its origin in the South. Its institutions are similar to those of the southern states, and their interests identical with theirs. Think about that, people. Our interests were identical with the American Indian. Long since it accepted the protection of the United States of America, contracted with them treaties of alliance and friendship, and allowed themselves to be, to a great extent, governed by their laws. In peace and war, they have been faithful to their engagements with the United States. With much hardship and injustice to complain of, they resorted to no other means than solicitation and argument to obtain redress of grievances. Loyal and obedient to the laws and the stipulations of the treaties, they served under the flag of the United States, shared the common dangers, and were entitled to a share in the common glory, to gain which their blood was freely shed on the battlefield. When the dissensions between the southern and northern states culminated in a separation of state after state from the Union, the Cherokees watched the progress of events with anxiety and consternation. While their institutions and the contiguity of their territory to the states of Arkansas, Texas, and Missouri made the cause of the seceding states necessarily their own cause, their treaties had been made with the United States, and they felt the utmost reluctance, even in appearance, to violate their engagements, or set at naught the obligation of good faith. But Providence rules the destinies of nations and events by inexorable necessity over rule human resolutions. The number of the Confederate states increased to eleven, and their government is firmly established and consolidated. Maintaining in the field an army of 200,000 men, the war became for them but a succession of victories. Disclaiming any intention to invade a northern state, they sought only to repel invaders from their own soil, and to secure the right of governing themselves. They claimed only the privilege asserted by the Declaration of American Independence, and on which the right of the northern states themselves to self-government is formed, of altering their form of government when it became no longer tolerable, and establishing new forms for the security of their liberties. Throughout the Confederate states we saw this great revolution effected without violence or suspension of the laws or the closing of the courts. The military power was nowhere placed above the civilian authority. Nothing was seized and no one imprisoned at the mandate of arbitrary power. All division among the people disappeared, and the determination became unanimous that there should never ever again be any union with the northern states. Almost as one man, all who were able to bear arms rushed to the defense of an invaded country, and nowhere has it been found necessary to compel men to serve or to enlist mercenaries by the offer of extraordinary bounties. But in the northern states, the Cherokee people saw with alarm a violated Constitution, all civil liberty put in peril, and all rules of civilized warfare, and the dictates of common humanity and decency, unhesitatingly disregarded. In states which still adhered to the Union, a military despotism had displaced the civil power, and the laws became silent amid arms. Free speech and almost free thought became a crime. The right of the writ of habeas corpus, guaranteed by the Constitution, disappeared at the nod of a Secretary of State or a General of the lowest grade. The mandate of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court was at naught by the military power, and this outrage on common right, approved by a President sworn to support the Constitution. War on the largest scale was waged, and the immense bodies of troops called into the field in the absence of any law warranting it under the pretense of suppressing unlawful combination of men. The humanities of war, which even barbarians respect, were no longer thought worthy to be observed, for on mercenaries and the scum of the cities, and the inmates of prisons, were enlisted and organized into brigades in the Union Army and sent into southern states to aid in subjugating a people who were simply struggling for freedom, to burn, to plunder, and to commit the basest of outrages on the women there as well. While the heels of armed tyranny trod upon the necks of Maryland and Missouri, and men of the highest character and position were incarcerated upon suspicion and without any due process of law, put in jails and ports and prison ships, and even women were imprisoned by the arbitrary order of a President and Cabinet Ministers, while the press ceased to be free and the publication of newspapers was suspended and their issues seized and destroyed, the officers and men taken prisoner in the battles were allowed to remain in captivity by the refusal of the government to consent to an exchange of prisoners, as they had left their dead on more than one field of battle that had witnessed their defeat to be buried and their wounded to be cared for by southern hands." That was the end of the Cherokee Proclamation. Now for the rest of the article. Lincoln's armies, after decimating and destroying the South in the War for Southern Independence, turned their war criminals loose on the American Indians of the Great Plains and the Southwest. The tactics of murder, rape, and pillaging, perfected in such places as Atlanta, the March to the Sea, and the Shenandoah Valley, were repeated in places with names like Sand Creek and Wounded Knee. Small wonder one of Lincoln's favorite generals was William T. Sherman, who wrote to his wife in 1862 that his goal was, and I quote, the extermination, not of soldiers alone, that is the least of the trouble, but the entire people of the South, unquote. He said while campaigning against the Indians, and I quote, the only good Indian I ever saw was dead, unquote. And he lamented to his son shortly before his death that his great regret was that he had been unable to kill all of those red sons of bitches. Abraham Lincoln's American system, adopted from Henry Clay, brought about the necessity for the removal of the Indians from the West. This concept of government had been vetoed as unconstitutional by virtually every president, beginning with James Madison. The system called for the subsidizing of the railroads with stolen taxpayer money. Lincoln had long been the primary attorney representing the railroads before being elected president. For the railroads to complete their lines into the West, the American Indian had to be either neutralized or eliminated. Thus, Lincoln left his fingerprints on the campaign against the Indian well into the 19th century. Lincoln's policies of taxpayer-supported railroads would lead not only to the attempted annihilation of the American Indian, but to tremendous scandals in the administration of another of Lincoln's war criminals, Ulysses S. Grant. Grant, like Lincoln, handed out his political plum appointments of Indian agent to cronies who proceeded to gain tremendous wealth by selling supplies and stealing money that should have gone to the Indians. They learned that from Reconstruction against the people of the South. Today, as we Southerners protest the conversion of the battlefields of the National Park Service into the beginnings of reparations for slavery by Marxist politicians and journalists, and challenge the erection of a statue of Lincoln in Richmond, we might ask ourselves, as the Indian has done for years, why, in the most sacred land of the Sioux, is there a monument carved into the Granite Mountain, a figure of Lincoln who promised the annihilation of a band of the Sioux to please his political cronies? To continue to idolize Lincoln is to refute history and intellectual thought and to worship at the feet of Marxism. Perhaps, in the not-too-distant future, Americans will be able to see the Lincoln administration and its legacy of how we are governed today in the light of truth. We may even be able to see its consequences as clearly as the Cherokee Nation saw them in 1861. And that, my friends, was the completion of that article. Well, yes, folks, I do feel a connection with the American Indian, especially when I realize that his ancestor and my ancestors were murdered, raped, pillaged, and destroyed. Attempted to completely destroy the races because William Tecumseh Sherman wanted to destroy the people of the South just as much as he wanted and Lincoln wanted to destroy the Indians of the West. All for money. All for money. Folks, I hope that this has been somewhat of a different offering on my sub-stack. And I hope that you will enjoy it. And I look forward to being able to start again on my article to Confederation and upon several other events. But before I do that, I would just like to thank all of you for becoming a subscriber. And I hope that if you feel it worthy that you will become a paid subscriber. That, of course, is your choice. And the freedom of choice is something I never want to eliminate. So, folks, God bless and have yourselves just a wonderful day. And Southerners, my fellow Southerners, remember that our ancestors were treated exactly the same way that this government continues to treat the American Indian. God bless.