1923 - A Hopi writer protest the Smoki Dance... and most Hopis have not yet even seen it.

Popular Mechanics Magazine, April 1923 

Well in advance of the growing sentiment in favor of expressing American tradition in pageantry is the effort of Arizona, the newest State, to preserve what is undoubtedly the oldest ceremonial still performed in the United States.
          For two years, citizens of Prescott, Arizona's first territorial capital, have reproduced the rain ceremonial of the Hopi Indians, the snake dance, by means which the desert tribe indicates its compliance with the commands of its principal deity. The third reproduction of the snake dance by white men, students of the Indian ritual and long practiced in he art of its steps and chants, will take place in June, this year.

          It is not easy for Caucasians to transform themselves into acceptable Indians, but men of the "Smoki" tribe, of Prescott, have done it, and with greater success last year than the year before.  They look forward to a higher degree of perfection in their next effort. For unlike the usual attempts to "make up" as Indians, the Smoki (a coined name by which the organization is known) actually transform themselves into the medicine men, or priests, whose parts they play. It is impossible to go behind the scenes of the original Hopi ceremonial, except one be favored as was Colonel Roosevelt in 1913, when he went into the rock-carved kivas at Walpi and watched the preparation of the rattlesnakes. But whereas Colonel Roosevelt told us, after he had left the underground chamber, that his lips were sealed by his position as the guest of the noble and peaceful race of Indians, ours are not, and we recount how the Smoki get ready to give their dramatized version of the same dance.

          A brown, coppery stain, when properly applied, alters the paleface to a redskin. The Smoki men do not color themselves to a chorus of incantations, but with a considerable degree of scientific study. They stain their entire bodies until they closely resemble the dusky race. They cover their hair with long black wigs; hand beaded ornaments at knee and elbow, and wrap their loins in kilts such as the real Indians wear. These extremely short skirts are the product of a distinguished artist who lived for many years in Hopi villages, and knows their language and customs.

          The final touch to the costume is the characteristic paint. Each dance is participated in by the priests of two divisions of the Smoki tribe. The "snake" priests - principal actors in the dramatic pageant -- carry the live and deadly rattlers in their mouths, and color their chins white and their cheeks black. The "antelope" priests, who sing the montonous chants, reverse the coloring, wearing white on cheek and black on chin.
          On the breasts and backs of the latter are painted in white the raincloud symbol, a large white blob from which descend two streamers, representing rain and lightning. The snake priests wear on their bodies and upper arms the white zigzag symbols of that trinity peculiar to Hopi ritual: Snake, Lightening, and Winding River.

          On the arena, which in June will be the scene of this unusual pageant, a reproduction of a Hopi village is constructed of light material, but without a detail lacking, even to the sun-curing meat hanging from the walls, and plenty of dusky kids play about like those who swarm in every Indian pueblo.
          With such a background, the white men perform a dance they hope to preserve from the altering hand of time.

          Dancers of the Smoki find it easy to forget their culture. They encounter no difficulty when the spell is on them. They cast off the veneer of civilization, finding deep inside themselves a well of savagery that makes the muscles tireless, and inspires the chants. No case of stage fright has been recorded, for each Smoki fairly lives his part. Under the stimulus of the incessant beating of the drums, the banker, the lawyer, the mine superintendent, and the grocery clerk lose themselves in the aboriginal, and dance and sing, not gayly, but gravely and earnestly.
          How do the Hopi like it?
          The Indian is reserved and more than a little jealous of his ceremonies. Anyone in the Southwest knows that it is safer to tamper with the rattlesnake itself than with the ceremonial dance of which it is so important a part.
          Yet, the medicine men of the Hopi, some of whom have added a college education to the tribal traditions that go by word of mouth from generation to generation, are intensely interested in the white man's mimicry. And next summer some of them hope to see the Prescott reproduction for the first time.
          Leaders of the pageant movement have gone to the Hopi and consulted them. They have frankly disclosed their purposes, and have won approval for the Smoki dance. Helpful hints of a kind never dreamed of have been given by the Hopi to the white men. The Indian has rehearsed emissaries of the Smoki in his oldest customs, probably withholding some of the phase, but willingly confiding secrets of dress, intonation, and rhythm.
          It is the desire of the Smoki to add to and expand their Indian pageantry, so that by 1926, when the rest of America is rehearsing the landing of the Pilgrims, the singing of the Declaration of Independence, and the founding of New Amsterdam by the Hollanders 300 years ago, there will be in the Southwest a pageant going back still further. It may deal with the Indian  account of the creation --- something oddly like our own Biblical one. It will certainly seek to probe the history, buried in legends, fireside tales, myths, religious rites, and tribal traditions that hold the key to the earliest inhabitants of the southern Rocky Mountain region.
                                              - By Lyle Abbott, in the April Popular Mechanics Magazine.

I was unable to find the original letter here, written for the Coconino Sun, by a Hopi who protests the Prescott Smoki Snake Dance. Believe me, I have tried everything but all my records go to 1922, and the article was from 1923.  Drat.

But this letter defends the Smokis from the Hopi protester, with all the typical blah-blah-blah excuses that are still used today (it's an honor, it's accurate, nobody complained before, Indians are part of it, etc).

From the Popular Mechanics article, we know that the Hopi, at this time, haven't really seen the production, so they aren't really complaining just yet. This Hopi writer, though, IS complaining. But, as always, no one listens.
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The Smokis and the Hopis
1923, Aug 16   Arizona Republic 

          The Prescott Journal-Miner takes to task a correspondent of the Coconino Sun, himself a Hopi protesting against the snake dance as a fake, devoid of death-defying characteristics: the poisonous serpents are made poisonless. The correspondent robs the dance of everything but its filthiness and declares that it is not worth seeing.
       Whereupon the Journal-Miner calls the correspondent a zealot and the editor paints a picture of the dance as he has seen it, enjoying "the symbolism of the ceremony at close range."
          "But we are chiefly interested int he following paragraph from the Journal-Miner for reasons which are hereinafter set out:
          "And then we have seen the people of Prescott and many visitors watch the Smoki dance. Those tribesmen, even stranger than their prototype, the Hopi, have unhesitatingly engaged in all the practices of which the Sun's correspondent complains, and we have never heard an honest complaint about it."
          The Smoki tribe is composed of eminent citizens of Prescott who on the occasion of the annual dance are arrayed int he garb of the Hopis, that is to say, in some scantiness of garb, and go through the gyrations of the Hopis performing with snakes 'n' everything. That is, they have copied the ceremonial or what they have seen of it. We have never witnessed either the Smoki or the Hopi dance, but we think we should be much more interested in the Smokis.
           We have lately seen a description of the Hopi dance, a work of some fifty or seventy-five closely typewritten pages in which are set out the affidavits of a dozen Hopis who have been behind the scenes. This information we believe was gathered by Mr Sweet of this city.
          Though the Hopis as a tribe are most industrious and moral, on the occasion of the dance there is, according to these affidavits, a general loosening of the bonds. The affidavits describe acts of sexual immorality of the most bestial character. These, of course, are not practiced in the presence of the visitors, but in secret ceremonials previous to and after the public exhibition.
          We assume that the Smokis and the editor of the Journal-Miner are unaware of the nature of these private ceremonies, but if not and the Smokis "unhesitatingly engage in all the practices" of their prototypes, those eminent citizens of Prescott are not the kind of people we have always believed them to be and are still sure they are.
          We are sure that the Smoki dance is an expurgated edition of the Hopi dance. If not, we call upon Governor Hunt to put Prescott under martial law when they have the next one.
          But whatever becomes of the Hopi dance we hope the Smoki dance will survive. It preserves what is worth preserving of the ancient ceremonial and it is an added one of the many attractions of Prescott.   ---- 1923, Aug 16   Arizona Republic 


See how this flips and flops? There must have been a protest, for there to be affidavits given. But the writer here says, basically, that the white people preserve the better part of this questionable dance, and the Hopi are usually good - but turn nasty when this ceremony comes about - so..... they shouldn't engage in this behavior. Let's leave it up to the white folks.

1923, Aug 16  Arizona Republic