1938: "The Indians scoff at palefaces.." "and fruitless protests have gone to the Great White Father."
1938, as the Hopi were still performing their Snake Dance both at home in Arizona, and on tour, they finally had enough with the Smokis.
1938 - The Smokis spent $100,000 on a backdrop set to look more like an Indian Hopi village. They appropriated even more dances - some real and some fictionalized. Their production continued to grow, as did their mockery and cultural theft.
1938
The Hopi Indians are writhing mad about the snake business.
After holding a monopoly on rattlesnake dances for untold centuries, the Hopis are face to face with high pressure competition from the sickly palefaces.
White men in Prescott, Ariz, who call themselves Smokis, soon will stage several snake dances, according to their yearly custom, as a bid for tourist trade, and the incensed Hopis charge that they are an infringement on a copyright that the gods gave them a good many years ago.
Chief Tewaquaptewa II, whose name causes the average white man to hiccough but who manages to break into the news quite often by his defiance of the whites, tried to persuade the Indian Bureau in Washington recently to issue an injunction or something against the Smokis, but John Collier figured that he had no power over the Smoki "reservation."
Chief Tewaquaptewa II, who rules Oraibi, most ancient city in these United States, like Mussolini does Italy, wouldn't mind the imitation of the Smokis would change their name so that the tourists would not confuse it with Hopis. He also wants the Smokis to confess publicly that the reptiles they hold between their teeth so fearlessly are merely bull snakes which wouldn't hurt a baby while the Hopis use the real McCoy, the deadly rattlesnake.
"The snake dance belongs to the Hopis," said the Chief, who is as browned as the soil and fittingly be-wrinkled. "The snake dance brings rain to our crops. The snakes are our little brothers. They are messengers who take our pleas back to the gods. The dance is a part of our faith. The paleface has no more right to make mockery of it than we have to mock the paleface's God."
The Chief then delivered the blow that the Smokis can never forgive.
"The paleface looks like a goose when he dances with snakes."
That was below the belt and the Prescott tribesmen are waiting for the day when Chief Tewaquaptewa II comes into town. They will scalp him.
For weeks now in Prescott, a town as blame in weather as some people think it is on the subject of reptiles, bankers and other business men have been rushing home from their offices to get into brand-new lion clouts and join the "boys" at Smoki headquarters, which looks like a Hopi pueblo and cost hem $100,000. [ over $1.700 million in today's dollars.] So, as anyone can see, this snake business is no penny ante game.
The mechanic, the butcher, the minister, the lawyer and the clerk are all there. They seriously study Indian lore in their different clans until they know letter perfect the symbolism and life of the Hopi, the Apache, the Paiute, the Navajo, and other tribes.
A few weeks before the public ceremonial dance... they drag the bull snakes out of the cellar and start holding rehearsals. They fashion black wigs for themselves, paint themselves in brown clay, and stay our so late at night that sometimes their wives have to come after them.
To the thunder of tom-toms and the eerie shriek of flutes, they wrap the five-foot reptiles around their throats. They hold them in their mouths. They dance with dozens of them curled up around their bare feet. They juggle a half dozen at a time. Dante could have used such a scene for his inferno.
The boys of the town, which has a population of 7000, provide the snakes. They scour the hills for weeks and market the reptiles to the Smokis for 25 cents each, unless bull snakes are scarce, in which case the little rascals hop on a bullish market.
Ranchers, workers on road gangs and tourists also fill the snake coffers of the Smokis until 150 serpents are cached away in an underground spot or some other cool place. The harmless reptiles are all turned loose for a thrilling climax to the public ceremonial and for weeks afterwards, housewives find them lurking about in their gardens.
The Smokis never advertise themselves individually. They stubbornly try to keep their roster a secret to the outside world. Yet even with all of their paint and wigs, they cannot stop their neighbors from sitting in the stadium on the great occasion and nudging each other about who is who.
Everyone knows, for instance, that Gail Gardner, the Prescott postmaster, is Chief Yellowtail, supreme ruler of the Smokis. He has danced with the Smokis for so many years that even the youngsters know him now and shout our his name for all to hear.
Smokis are also recognizable by the tiny dots which are tattooed on their left hands. Chief Yellow Tail has four dots with a half circle around them, signifying that he is a chief. The newcomer is marked with two dots provided that he has handled the snakes in at least one ceremony without knocking his knees together too much. The veteran Smoki is identified by four dots. The membership numbers about 140.
The Smokis are intensely serious about their work. Despite the fun poked at them because of their snake dances, they believe that they are doing as much to perpetuate Indian lore as the Wagnerian festivals do to intensify interest in Wagner.
"This is the only organization of its kind attempting to perpetuate the beautiful and mystic dances and rites of the American Indians," points out R.L. Webb, a foremost civic leader in the town.
"We have no stars or prima donnas, and no personal acclaim is wished by any Smoki. If the Smoki people are able to create in the hearts of their spectators an interest in the rites of, and a respect for the Indians of the Southwest, they will feel that they have been well paid for many weeks of practice."
Although the Smokis are dedicated to a lofty mission now, their origin was in burlesque. In 1920 Prescott business men staged a hilarious masquerade of the Hopis, who live in sky villages on the painted mesas 200 miles from Prescott.
During the next year or two the mummery gave birth to the idea that the Smokis might have just as much fun and at the same time perform a worthwhile service if they staged replicas of Indian dances that are about to vanish.
The Smokis attracted much attention to Prescott in the following decade, but it wasn't until recent years that the tourist mob came down on the town by the thousands. During Smoki week, the city plays host to the citizens of every state as well as hundreds from abroad.
Until such a hullabaloo started, the Hopis looked with complaisant disgust on the dances. But when candid camera experts, newspapers and magazines began to confuse Smokis with Hopis and confuse pictures of bull snake dancers with the sacred, seldom-photographed Hopi rattlesnake event, Chief Tewaquaptewa decided that it was time to call a meeting of his own chamber of commerce to protect the good Hopi name - an 18-karat name in the snake world.
The most Indian officials can do, though, is to assure the Hopi that every possible step is being taken to let the world know that the Smokis are Caucasians and bill snakes are their commodity in trade. Prescott itself has never claimed otherwise and the annual program, which the Hopis probably have never seen, states so in very clear terms.
Although the Hopis may feel that their trademark is being infringed on, scientists encourage serious study of the old dances by Caucasian groups and applaud efforts that several organizations in the Southwest are making toward perpetrating them.
Dr Byron Cummings, dean of southwestern archaeologists, believes that even the Hopi snake dance, which are so deeply rooted in the religious life of the older Indians, will disappear within a few years.
"The number of men in the Hopi clans which perform the prayer dances keeps dwindling every year," he said. "The old men despair of getting the young Indians interested in the dances. The youths, for the most part, seemingly have lost all faith in the efficacy of the snake dances as prayers to the gods.
"I fear that it is now a matter of only a few years until the snake dance will become just a memory, a part of Indian history."
The Hopi snake dance, gives each August unless a heavy rain have covered the mesa farms, is perhaps the most terrifying aboriginal ritual staged anywhere in the civilized world.
The Hopi clans use 200 angry hissing rattlesnakes in their barbaric dance. They purify the rattlers in a kiva, an underground chapel, before the ceremony starts. The purification includes washing the snakes in water olias and sprinkling meal over them.
After preliminary rites by other dancers in the pueblo's square, with Indians and white visitors thronging the doorways and roofs of the adobe houses, the snake dancers bring out their infuriated "darts of death." The Indians are seemingly impervious to their fangs. They twist the deadly serpents around their necks, grip them in their teeth, and throw them around on the ground, the snakes all the while hissing and rattling, and licking forth menacingly with their long tongues.
As amazing as it the fact that the Hopi dancers escape death in their tryst, with the poisonous reptiles is the rain that always follows the prayer dance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what did we learn?
The Hopis are upset, and Chief Tewaquaptewa explained why the people were upset, but the Smoki had scientist and anthropologists on their side. The Smokis claimed they never posed as actual Indians or Hopis, but click back a few pages and you will see where that's not true. They also said that the Hopis didn't care about their ceremonies until the press arrived - but the Smokis started their "group" in 1921 because of the popularity of the Hopis - who also had to fight for 6 years to even have a right to do their own dance.
What you can really gather from this article is that the Hopi people are mad. They don't like Prescott holding the dances, or white people mocking them. But Prescott just invested nearly 2 million (todays dollars) into a new playhouse, so they are going to milk this for as long as they can.
And notice they're not just ripping off the Hopi. They're also adding in dances from other tribal nations, such as the Apaches.
Even a formal protest to the president won't stop the Smoki from commercializing the Hopis religion without their permission. They would told... and it would take decades for someone to finally make them listen.
 |
| 1938, April 11 The Akron Beacon Journal |
 |
| 1938, June 5 The San Bernardino County Sun |
Why the Hopis are made at the Smokis
by Mildres Gordon
1938, August 4. The Daily Times News
The Hopi Indians are writhing mad about the snake business.
After holding a monopoly on rattlesnake dances for untold centuries, the Hopis are face to face with high pressure competition from the sickly palefaces.
"The snake dance belongs to the Hopis," said the Chief, who is as browned as the soil and fittingly be-wrinkled. "The snake dance brings rain to our crops. The snakes are our little brothers. They are messengers who take our pleas back to the gods. The dance is a part of our faith. The paleface has no more right to make mockery of it than we have to mock the paleface's God."
The Chief then delivered the blow that the Smokis can never forgive.
"The paleface looks like a goose when he dances with snakes."
That was below the belt and the Prescott tribesmen are waiting for the day when Chief Tewaquaptewa II comes into town. They will scalp him.
For weeks now in Prescott, a town as blame in weather as some people think it is on the subject of reptiles, bankers and other business men have been rushing home from their offices to get into brand-new lion clouts and join the "boys" at Smoki headquarters, which looks like a Hopi pueblo and cost hem $100,000. [ over $1.700 million in today's dollars.] So, as anyone can see, this snake business is no penny ante game.
The mechanic, the butcher, the minister, the lawyer and the clerk are all there. They seriously study Indian lore in their different clans until they know letter perfect the symbolism and life of the Hopi, the Apache, the Paiute, the Navajo, and other tribes.
A few weeks before the public ceremonial dance... they drag the bull snakes out of the cellar and start holding rehearsals. They fashion black wigs for themselves, paint themselves in brown clay, and stay our so late at night that sometimes their wives have to come after them.
The boys of the town, which has a population of 7000, provide the snakes. They scour the hills for weeks and market the reptiles to the Smokis for 25 cents each, unless bull snakes are scarce, in which case the little rascals hop on a bullish market.
Ranchers, workers on road gangs and tourists also fill the snake coffers of the Smokis until 150 serpents are cached away in an underground spot or some other cool place. The harmless reptiles are all turned loose for a thrilling climax to the public ceremonial and for weeks afterwards, housewives find them lurking about in their gardens.
The Smokis never advertise themselves individually. They stubbornly try to keep their roster a secret to the outside world. Yet even with all of their paint and wigs, they cannot stop their neighbors from sitting in the stadium on the great occasion and nudging each other about who is who.
 |
| Gail Gardner in 1957 |
Smokis are also recognizable by the tiny dots which are tattooed on their left hands. Chief Yellow Tail has four dots with a half circle around them, signifying that he is a chief. The newcomer is marked with two dots provided that he has handled the snakes in at least one ceremony without knocking his knees together too much. The veteran Smoki is identified by four dots. The membership numbers about 140.
The Smokis are intensely serious about their work. Despite the fun poked at them because of their snake dances, they believe that they are doing as much to perpetuate Indian lore as the Wagnerian festivals do to intensify interest in Wagner.
"This is the only organization of its kind attempting to perpetuate the beautiful and mystic dances and rites of the American Indians," points out R.L. Webb, a foremost civic leader in the town.
"We have no stars or prima donnas, and no personal acclaim is wished by any Smoki. If the Smoki people are able to create in the hearts of their spectators an interest in the rites of, and a respect for the Indians of the Southwest, they will feel that they have been well paid for many weeks of practice."
Although the Smokis are dedicated to a lofty mission now, their origin was in burlesque. In 1920 Prescott business men staged a hilarious masquerade of the Hopis, who live in sky villages on the painted mesas 200 miles from Prescott.
During the next year or two the mummery gave birth to the idea that the Smokis might have just as much fun and at the same time perform a worthwhile service if they staged replicas of Indian dances that are about to vanish.
The Smokis attracted much attention to Prescott in the following decade, but it wasn't until recent years that the tourist mob came down on the town by the thousands. During Smoki week, the city plays host to the citizens of every state as well as hundreds from abroad.
Until such a hullabaloo started, the Hopis looked with complaisant disgust on the dances. But when candid camera experts, newspapers and magazines began to confuse Smokis with Hopis and confuse pictures of bull snake dancers with the sacred, seldom-photographed Hopi rattlesnake event, Chief Tewaquaptewa decided that it was time to call a meeting of his own chamber of commerce to protect the good Hopi name - an 18-karat name in the snake world.
The most Indian officials can do, though, is to assure the Hopi that every possible step is being taken to let the world know that the Smokis are Caucasians and bill snakes are their commodity in trade. Prescott itself has never claimed otherwise and the annual program, which the Hopis probably have never seen, states so in very clear terms.
Although the Hopis may feel that their trademark is being infringed on, scientists encourage serious study of the old dances by Caucasian groups and applaud efforts that several organizations in the Southwest are making toward perpetrating them.
Dr Byron Cummings, dean of southwestern archaeologists, believes that even the Hopi snake dance, which are so deeply rooted in the religious life of the older Indians, will disappear within a few years.
"The number of men in the Hopi clans which perform the prayer dances keeps dwindling every year," he said. "The old men despair of getting the young Indians interested in the dances. The youths, for the most part, seemingly have lost all faith in the efficacy of the snake dances as prayers to the gods.
"I fear that it is now a matter of only a few years until the snake dance will become just a memory, a part of Indian history."
The Hopi snake dance, gives each August unless a heavy rain have covered the mesa farms, is perhaps the most terrifying aboriginal ritual staged anywhere in the civilized world.
The Hopi clans use 200 angry hissing rattlesnakes in their barbaric dance. They purify the rattlers in a kiva, an underground chapel, before the ceremony starts. The purification includes washing the snakes in water olias and sprinkling meal over them.
After preliminary rites by other dancers in the pueblo's square, with Indians and white visitors thronging the doorways and roofs of the adobe houses, the snake dancers bring out their infuriated "darts of death." The Indians are seemingly impervious to their fangs. They twist the deadly serpents around their necks, grip them in their teeth, and throw them around on the ground, the snakes all the while hissing and rattling, and licking forth menacingly with their long tongues.
As amazing as it the fact that the Hopi dancers escape death in their tryst, with the poisonous reptiles is the rain that always follows the prayer dance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what did we learn?
The Hopis are upset, and Chief Tewaquaptewa explained why the people were upset, but the Smoki had scientist and anthropologists on their side. The Smokis claimed they never posed as actual Indians or Hopis, but click back a few pages and you will see where that's not true. They also said that the Hopis didn't care about their ceremonies until the press arrived - but the Smokis started their "group" in 1921 because of the popularity of the Hopis - who also had to fight for 6 years to even have a right to do their own dance.
What you can really gather from this article is that the Hopi people are mad. They don't like Prescott holding the dances, or white people mocking them. But Prescott just invested nearly 2 million (todays dollars) into a new playhouse, so they are going to milk this for as long as they can.
And notice they're not just ripping off the Hopi. They're also adding in dances from other tribal nations, such as the Apaches.
Even a formal protest to the president won't stop the Smoki from commercializing the Hopis religion without their permission. They would told... and it would take decades for someone to finally make them listen.
 |
| 1938, Aug 4 The Daily Times News |
