Geronimo's Bones

Last week a story appeared regarding a lawsuit filed by descendents of Chiricahua Apache leader Geronimo. The suit seeks recovery of bones allegedly in the possession of Yale University's fabled secret society, Skull and Bones.

Harlan Geronimo, 61, great-grandson of Geronimo (Goyahklah), maintains that the bones, including a skull and thigh bones, were stolen in 1918 by members of Skull and Bones from his great-grandfather’s grave at Fort Sill. According to the story, one of the grave robbers was Prescott Bush – grandfather of George W., and father of George H.W., both of whom were also Yalies and Skull and Bones members.

The lawsuit also names President Obama, Defense Secretary Robert Gates and Army Secretary Pete Geren as defendants.

Native Americans have been pursuing the legend of the theft of Geronimo’s bones since the 1980’s, but this latest chapter began in 2005, when Yale historian Marc Wortman discovered a letter written in 1918 by Skull and Bones member Winter Mead to another member, F. Trubee Davison.

Mead wrote, “The skull of the worthy Geronimo the Terrible, exhumed from its tomb at Fort Sill by your club and Knight Haffuer, is now safe inside the T— together with its well worn femurs, bit and saddle horn.”

Allegedly the bones, especially the skull, have been used by the society in secret ceremonies.

Wortman agrees that the letter seems to lend credibility to the Apaches' assertion, but he says he’s skeptical that the bones are those of Geronimo. (So... somehow it's less offensive if isn't Geronimo's skull?)

Yale officials declined comment, except to note that Skull and Bones is not legally affiliated with the university, and their “crypt” clubhouse is not on Yale property. A spokeswoman at Fort Sill denied there is any evidence supporting the Indians’ claims.

My opinion: The last thing anybody needs is a headline about rich, privileged kids amusing themselves by desecrating the remains of other Americans, especially Native Americans. What if we were talking about George Washington’s skull? Or heaven forbid, a Papal cranium?

DNA tests can determine if the bones belong to Geronimo. That could take some time, so while we wait, why don't we 'collateralize' the outcome? Send Prescott Bush's skull to the Apaches, or for that matter, transfer the bones from whichever esteemed Skull and Bones family the Apaches might choose.
In the words of character actor Wilford Brimley, “It’s right thing to do.”

Cue the Indians

As a kid I watched a lot of Westerns. I liked the horses, the guns, even the dust, but most of all, I liked the Indians. They were exotic. Brave. Scary.

For most of my childhood I believed every wagon train was attacked by Indians - murder on horseback; painted and feathered, bristling with lances, arrows and tomahawks. It was a scenario I didn't question. At school my teachers didn't talk much about white/Indian interaction; we heard about covered wagons and pioneers, but nothing was ever presented to contradict what we saw on TV or in the movies. I never asked about it... I mean, I already knew what happened, didn't I?

Then, when I was about 14 years old, I was in study hall in the school library and I came across the biography of Crazy Horse written by Nebraska-born author Mari Sandoz. Unwilling to apply myself to assigned schoolwork, I began to read, and I learned about a nation of people who call themselves Lakota, not Sioux. I was exposed to their religious beliefs, language, ceremonies, music, art, legends and customs. I learned something about how they married, raised children, selected their leaders, hunted and gathered food, buried their dead. Yes, and I learned about their warrior culture, and how it influenced the ways in which they practiced warfare and treated their enemies.

Most important, I began to see that the "hostiles" had many interests beyond ambushing wagon trains. Securing food and shelter was not the least of those. Hunting buffalo from horseback with a lance or bow and arrow wasn't just difficult, it was dangerous. Winters were cold, summers hot, and on the Plains, there isn't a lot of time in between. I found out old age was not only unpleasant for the Lakota, it was unlikely.

Reading about Crazy Horse taught me that the reality of the Old West extended well beyond the reach of Hollywood's popular images. I realized the richness and complexity of Native American cultures had been short-changed in deference to the function served by Westerns as morality tales. Good versus evil. If you ain't one, you're the other.

Most of the Westerns I saw as a kid served up caricatures, not history. With all due respect, the Old West portrayed by John Wayne and John Ford never existed. But the real problem is our tendency to view those images as iconic representations of American values, "the good old days" as it were. In so doing we enshrine them as rationalizations for the consequences of Manifest Destiny - which was itself a giant rationalization.

We can't change what happened. But it seems to me that the more we know about how we got to where we are, the more we can appreciate the achievements of our ancestors, and the better we can identify, try to correct, and avoid repetition of their mistakes.

I still watch those old Westerns. They take me back to a time when the horses, the guns and the dust were enough. Then some Italian actor in feathers, fringe and beardstick rides into frame, and I remember that the real story never made it to the screen.

Mission Statement

Spare me.
I'll bet that's what you thought when you saw the title of this post. And yet, I don't feel right starting this blog experiment without some indication of its purpose - if only to save hapless, casual readers from having to read further should the following hold no interest:

I call this blog 'ghost dance' because 19th century American frontier history is one of my chief interests, and many of the postings here will be aimed at exploring historical facts, fables, and some of my own weird analogical thinking about people and events that came before. It is born of a gnawing respect for the struggles and passions of the people who called the Great Plains home in the 19th century - whites, Native Americans, blacks, Hispanics, Asians, you name it. Oh, and it also has roots in what Faulkner meant when he said, "the past is never dead; it isn't even past. " In short, this blog is an attempt to dance with ghosts; hopefully they won't mind the occasional misstep.

Relevance? Well, be your own judge, but I believe Lewis Lapham was right when he wrote, "We build the future out of the lumber of the past." I'm sure he knows what Faulkner what talking about.

I'm a freelance copywriter and an avid reader of anything written by Cormac McCarthy, so his writings (and others) may get mentioned from time to time, but at this point I'm not interested in reconnoitering his symbolism or classical literary references - mythological or theological. There are plenty of chats available for that.

A disclaimer - I do not hold degrees in history, nor do I present my thoughts as authoritative, scholarly, or anything other than the ramblings of an aficionado. I don't intend to start or engage in debates. I merely seek to explore my own particular interests publicly, and hopefully to expand my knowledge through interaction with other like-or-unlike-minded ghostdancers along the way. Where does all that leave us? Who knows? I'm new here too.

One last thing: I had a great uncle who was a farmer. He once described a horse he owned as a "churn-head," meaning stubborn. My wife tells me I'm stubborn. That's how I decided on the URL.

Over and out.