
Was thinking about Jim Thorpe and Ira Hayes the other day, and the 1964 Johnny Cash album, Bitter Tears: Ballads of the American Indian, including Johnny's version of Peter La Farge's "The Ballad of Ira Hayes." There's another haunting song on the album, co-written by JC and Johnny Horton, "The Vanishing Race." Even the song's title is eerie. Let's not forget an interesting take on the Little Big Horn called "Custer."
My father's been reading about the Comanche, who are now concentrated in Oklahoma and around the Southwest, and we've discussed some of their history, which has been enlightening.
During the Medicine Lodge Treaty negotiations in 1867, Comanche Chief Ten Bears, made these statements (published in 1910 by the US Government), which pretty much sum up the impact of mid-nineteenth century pressures on the Comanche:
[T]here are things which you have said which I do not like. They were not sweet like sugar but bitter like gourds. You said that you wanted to put us upon reservations, to build our houses and make us medicine lodges. I do not want them. I was born on the prairie where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no [e]nclosures and where everything drew a free breath. I want to die there and not within walls. I know every stream and every wood between the Rio Grande and the Arkansas. I have hunted and lived over the country. I lived like my fathers before me, and like them, I lived happily.
When I was at Washington the Great Father told me that all the Comanche land was ours and that no one should hinder us in living upon it. So, why do you ask us to leave the rivers and the sun and the wind and live in houses? Do not ask us to give up the buffalo for the sheep. . .
If the Texans had kept out of my country there might have been peace. But that which you now say we must live on is too small. The Texans have taken away the places where the grass grew the thickest and the timber was the best. Had we kept that we might have done the things you ask. But it is too late. The white man has the country which we loved, and we only wish to wander on the prairie until we die. . .
Today's Rune: Partnership.