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The aged In past and present Eastern Cherokee society

Marino, Ces are Rosario, Ph.D. The American University, 1987

Copyright ©1987 by Marluo, Cesarc Rosario. All rights reserved.

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THE AGED IN PAST AND PRESENT EASTERN CHEROKEE SOCIETY By Cesare R. Marino submitted to the Faculty of the College of Arts and Sciences of The American University in Partial Fulfillment of The Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Anthropology Signatures of Committee: Chairman:

ian the College"

1987 The American University Washington, D.C. 20016

IBE im iC JlN DHIllDIiSITÏ LtEEUtï © COPYRIGHT BY CESARE R. MARINO 1987 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THE AGED IN PAST AND PRESENT EASTERN CHEROKEE SOCIETY BY Cesare R. Marino ABSTRACT

This is a study of the status, roles and functions of the aged in aboriginal Cherokee society and contempo­ rary Eastern Cherokee reservation life. The first part of this work focuses on an ethnohistorical reconstruction of the prestigious 'place' the so-called beloved men and beloved grandmothers occupied in pre-removal Cherokee tribal life. In the mid-nineteenth century, the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians emerged as a new socio-political entity, no longer under the- old religious gerontocracy, but still guided by the tribal elders. The second part of the study illustrates the nature and extent to which today's older tribal members, the senior citizens, participate in and contribute to family and community life. The picture emerging from field research contradicts the disengagement and reductionist theories of aging. Instead, it appears that, despite some limitations, the aged are still integrated members of Eastern Cherokee society which has maintained a positive ii cultural perception of arid values associated with old age and the elderly.

Ill PREFACE

During my fieldwork on the Eastern Cherokee Reser­ vation in western North Carolina, I was often asked the reasons for my presence at Qualla, and my interest in the Indian elderly. I hope the following will help clarify and give some background information on the factors that eventually brought me among the Eastern Cherokees and, in particular, among their senior citizens. My attention was first drawn to the contemporary status and role of older American Indians in tribal life when I had the opportunity to review the final report of the First Conference of the National Indian Council on Aging (NICOA), held in Phoenix in the summer 19 76, On that occasion, some 1,500 elderly Indian delegates from more than 170 tribes and native communities— among whom were representatives of the Eastern Band of Cherokees— came together to draw public attention to the conditions and needs of older native Americans, During the Conference, two major areas of concern were discussed: the medical, nutritional and economic condition of the Indian elderly, and their social and cultural status in modern reservation and urban life. Problems of low income, poor health, and often inadequate iv nutrition and housing were dealt with by making specific recommendations for remedial actions. As for the question of the roles and social status of the aged in today's American Indian culture and society, many conferees brought personal accounts of the difficulties older Indians face not only economically and physically, but also in their social and emotional life (see NICOA 1976). It was recognized that, generally speaking, changes in the socio-economic structure of Indian communities, particularly in the last twenty years, have often disrupted the traditional roles and functions of the aged within the family, local community, and tribe. However, because of the diversity of local, tribal situations, and the complex implications of the issues involved, the Conference avoided making specific recom­ mendations while calling upon the tribes themselves to address, at the local level, such sensitive questions. As I began researching the anthropological literature on aging, I also had the opportunity to work on a bibliographic project with a member of the Eastern Band. It was during our conversations on the position of the aged in traditional and contemporary Cherokee society and culture that this study came into focus. Upon completion of a research proposal, I made a field trip in November 1982 to the Eastern Cherokee Reservation during which I

V met with former Principal Chief John Crowe and Indian elders with whom I discussed my proposed research. The Tribal Council eventually passed a resolution authoriz­ ing the study which, as I stressed then, was to focus on questions concerning the roles, position and status of the senior citizens in contemporary Eastern Cherokee culture and society. The field research would complement an ethnohistorical reconstruction of the position of the aged in aboriginal Cherokee society. Field research was conducted in 1983 thanks to an American University Dissertation Fellowship and some financial assistance I received from relatives. On the reservation many people gave me their generous hospital­ ity, in particular Mollie and the late Fred Blankenship, and Hilory and Joe Osborne. Gilliam Jackson, who has since visited me several times in Washington, was also very kind and helpful, Ned Welch of Big Cove and Jerry Long of Rough Branch (Soco) introduced me to the senior citizens at Tsali Manor, the new Senior Citizens' Center CSCC) , and kindly allowed me to share rides in the SCC vans to the most remote and beautiful parts of the Qualla Boundary. Above all, the senior citizens' kind acceptance and tolerance, their willingness to share time, memories and knowledge, and jokes with me made possible the completion of this study. Following the ethical standards of our

vi profession (American Anthropological Association 1973), I have preserved the anonymity of my informants. To the many senior citizens who helped me gain an understanding of the place 'old folks'--as they often refer to them­ selves— occupy in contemporary reservation life goes my sincere gratitude and appreciation. My thanks also goes to the Tribal Council of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians for granting permission to conduct the research and reside on the reservation; several tribal employees, both Indian and white, assisted me during my stay at Qualla and after I returned to Washington. Finally, my sincere thanks goes to the members of my committee. Dr. John J. Bodine, Dr. William L. Leap, and Dr, Geoffrey Burkhart, without whose encouragement, comments and criticism this paper would not have seen completion. Of course I am solely responsible,for its content.

vix TABLE OP CONTENTS ABSTRACT...... il PREFACE ...... iv LIST OF TABLES ...... X Chapter I. INTRODUCTION ...... 1 Why the Indian Elderly? ...... 1 Cherokee Elders: A Question of 'Place'...... 8 A Review of the Theories of Aging ...... 13 Methods and Tools of Research ...... 31 II. HISTORICAL DIMENSIONS ...... 51 Where Memories Do Not Reach ...... 51 Aniyunwiya: A Historical Sketch of the Principal People...... 58 Life in the Cherokee Town ...... 61 The Beloved Grandmothers ...... 66 The Beloved Men ...... 75 The White and Red Gérontocratie Councils .... 83 The Aged and the Ceremonial Complex .... 94 Cherokee Gerontocracy: Structural Change and Decline ...... 102 III. THE EASTERN BAND OF CHEROKEE INDIANS ...... Ill The 'Grandfathers' of the Eastern Band...... Ill Tsali: Legend of a Sacrifice ...... 117 James Mooney (Nunda) and the Cherokee Elders ...... 125 A Time of Change: The Case of the Gadugi .... 134 IV. THE SENIOR CITIZENS IN THE CONTEMPORARY CONTEXT ...... 145 A Matter of Substance ...... 145 Present Day Eastern Cherokee ...... 149 Senior Citizens; A Demographic Profile .... 159 Roles and Functions Today ...... 169 Tsali Manor and Senior citizens Program . 211

viii V. SYMBOLIC ASSOCIATIONS WITH OLD AGE ...... 242 Fire (Atsilv, lit. Coal, or Adowelagihv, lit. Blazing Wood) ...... 243 Sun and Moon (Nunda) ...... 252 Corn (Selu) ...... 256 The Aged and Certain Animals ...... 261 VI, CONCLUSION ...... 273

REFERENCES CITED ..... ;...... 291

ix LIST OP TABLES

1. The Qualla Indian Boundary (EBCI) ...... 151 2. EBCI Resident Population, 1975-2025 ...... 158 3. Elderly American Indians, 1973-1984 ...... 161 4. Enrolled Members of the EBCI, 1982 ...... 163 5. EBCI Senior Citizens on Reservation, 1983 ... 164 6. EBCI Senior Citizens: Age Cluster Distribution, 1982 . 165 7. Senior Citizens and Household Composition ... 175 8. Elderly's Estimates of Their Overall Health ... 233 9. Days in the Hospital in the Last Six Months ... 237 CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Why the Indian Elderly? For years the scene has been a familiar one in 'Indian Country*. Anthropologists and older American Indians have spent much time together ever since the representatives of our discipline began their intense study of Indian tribes and communities, often with the intent of salvaging what were thought to be the 'vanish­ ing' native cultures of North America. Anthropologists thus sought the cooperation and trust of older Indians because, traditionally, with each passing generation the elders were the ones most know­ ledgeable about the aboriginal culture of their tribe. With an almost insatiable interest in all aspects of traditional Indian tribal cultures and societies, students of the American Indian have established a legacy of cooperation with older tribal members. Despite accusa­ tions of self-interest and even exploitation occasionally made against anthropologists {see Deloria 1969), the relationship between anthropology and older Indians has been a generally positive one, a rewarding experience for both scholars and Indians. James Mooney's (1891, 1900a;

1 Mooney and Olbrechts 19 32) research among the elders of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians is a case in point. More often than not, older Indians accepted positively those who showed interest in them as indivi­ duals and as authorities on tribal culture and history. It has been from the elders of many tribes that anthropologists have collected a wealth of information on basically all aspects of American Indian life. Indian elders often narrated to anthropologists their personal life histories giving us a closer look not just at their culture, but at the individual experience in tribal life. Works such as Paul Radin's Crushing Thunder (1926), Walter Dyk's Son of Old Man Hat (1938), and Leo Simmons' Sun Chief (1942) are among the more famous of a long list of life histories collected from aged American Indians (see also Brumble 1981 for an annotated bibliography of over five hundred Indian and Eskimo autobiographies). There is little doubt that without the cooperation of older tribal members we would not have gained such massive information on— and, hopefully, an understanding of--past and present American Indian tribes. Eventually, in some communities more than in others, a line was drawn between what could be divulged to outsiders and what had to be kept secret. Even then, older tribal members have continued to constitute a primary source of information for anthropologists. It is somewhat surprising that, despite the con­ tinuous interaction between older Indians and the discipline, anthropologists have paid little attention to the status and role of older Indians in tribal culture and society, in the past, the question was probably overlooked simply because Indian elders appeared to be well Integrated and highly respected within their respective communities and tribes. Moreover, although Leo Simmons in his pioneering survey on The Role of the Aged in Primitive Society (1945) showed certain cross- cultural diversities in the position and treatment of the aged in societies around the world, his study supported a generally positive image of aging and status of the aged among American Indians (see Simmons 1945;54- 55, passim). During the decades following Simmons' (1945) study, a time which also marked the beginning of rapid moderni­ zation in many tribal communities, anthropologists overlooked the effects modern changes would have on the traditional picture that had been drawn on the role and status of the aged in so-called primitive societies. A hiatus of over twenty years separated Simmons' survey from a resurgence of interest in the anthropology of aging and the aged, Today, although anthropology is still in the process of defining methodologies and theoretical frameworks of socio-cultural gerontology (LeVine 1978:1-5), the past decade has shown a growing interest in "the anthropology of aging ... a relatively youthful part of our discipline [which] is maturing at a time when our nation is becoming conscious of inequalities and problems as we as a nation age" (Pry 1982:3), Yet, the "absence of an articulated anthropological approach to aging" (Clark 1973:79) and complex socio-political implications have generally deterred social scientists from investigating the present role, condition and status of the aged among ethnic minorities in general, and American Indians in particular. Indeed, the historic first conference of the National Indian Council on Aging (NICOA) in 19 76 was not followed by a significant commitment of anthropologists to address the questions of aging in contemporary reservation life. Today older American Indians constitute a unique segment of the nation's elderly population. Not only because of their political and legal status as members of tribes— a fact which is reflected in the kinds of ser­ vices they are entitled to— but also because Indian elders have generally played a central role and enjoyed a high social status and prestige in tribal society. Similarly, the images associated with old age have usually had a positive connotation in American Indian cultures. While research has recently been conducted on the mdeical, nutritional, and economic needs of older Indians, only indirect attention has been paid to the impact of modernization and socio-economic change on their tradi­ tional roles and functions, status, and overall position in contemporary tribal life. The little systematic research conducted so far on this subject shows consider­ able differences in the local tribal situations (compare Amoss 1981a; Sharp 1981) and prevents us from going beyond a generalized impression that many older Indians face with respect to not only economic and health related problems but also a crisis of role and status in the current structure of family, community, and tribal life. Notwithstanding documented evidence of widespread poverty and poor health among older American Indians (see NICOA 1976, 1980, 1984; Association of American Indian Physicians 1978) the accuracy of a generally negative picture of the contemporary condition and social status of elderly Indians can only be assessed through a careful analysis of each tribal situation. In this respect, one fact stands out: on most Indian reservations we find special programs for the elderly operating today. These programs, most of which began to operate in the late 1960s-early 1970s, focus not only on nutritional and economic assistance but also on the social and cultural needs of older American Indians. While programs for the elderly reflect both the need of many older tribal members for special assistance— and the steps taken by the tribes to address such needs— they also point to the current changes affecting the traditional relationship between the aged, the local community, and the tribe at large, The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians (EBCI), living on a small federal reservation in the mountains of western North Carolina, was one of the first Indian tribes to provide group services to its elderly members. Almost two decades ago, the Tribal Council of the Eastern Band of Cherokees began to operate a program of nutri­ tional, escort, and social assistance for its senior citizens. Initially, only a handful of elderly Indians gathered daily at the Community Center in downtown Cherokee. Later, the program grew in scope and number of participants so as to require the transfer of the elderly program to a larger and more efficient location. Today, despite financial difficulties due to federal budget cuts, the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians operates a successful program for the aged at Tsali Manor, the Senior Citizens Center complex on the Qualla Indian Boundary, The Eastern Cherokees, like many other tribes, have made great progress in addressing certain basic needs of older tribal members thanks also to new legislation (Title IV of P.L. 89-73 and amendments) which allows tribes "to directly provide services to their own elderly ... thus vastly improving the quality and quantity of [such] services" (National Congress of Ameri­ can Indians, Letter to Sen. Denton, October 8, 1981). This is particularly true of the Eastern Cherokees whose senior citizens' program has often been referred to as a model and commended by representatives of other tribal elderly programs and state and federal officiale (Chief John Crowe, personal communication 1982). Beyond the unquestionably beneficial impact of this program on the basic needs of many elderly residents on the Qualla Boundary, there still remain important considerations of the role and status of the elderly members of the Eastern Band. As the Eastern Cherokees continue to work for the general improvement in the liv­ ing conditions of their old people the question of socio­ cultural integration, role and status of the aged in family, community and tribal life remains and has been the main concern of this study. Hopefully this dissertation provides some answers to the above question which is, admittedly, perhaps eclectic in nature since it results from a combination of historical, socio-economic, cultural and demographic factors. The problem of eclecticism, however, cannot be avoided in a socio-cultural study of the aged, and should not discourage the anthropologist from pursuing research in the emerging field of socio-cultural gerontology, particularly when there is a need for community and tribally specific information {Pry 19 82). Such information will help the development of a solid anthropological theory of aging, and provide new data for a cross-cultural analysis of those theories which have dominated sociological and psychological approaches to the study of the aged in culture and society. Interest in the anthropology of aging, however, is not merely of a theoretical nature; it also carries possible practical implications as anthropology offers to look cross- culturally at how different socio-cultural systems deal today with the aging issue and the growing number of old people.

Cherokee Elders: A Question of 'Place* It is generally recognized that traditionally Ameri­ can Indians emphasized the important 'place' of the aged in all aspects of tribal culture and society. The concept of place is used here to signify the overall socio­ cultural position and role of the elderly in traditional tribal society. In aboriginal America, the place of Indian elders was, in a socio-cultural sense,a central one. The aged appear to have been well integrated in the fabric of the local community, the household and the extended kinship network, and exercised considerable influence on community and tribal life. A positive association between old age and tribal values was an important characteristic of traditional American Indian cultures. Neglect and even abandonment of the aged was a rare exception dictated by circum­ stances; the documented pattern was instead one of care and respect for the aged (see Simmons 1945). Recognizing that, historically, the elderly were key figures in the traditional structure of ancient Cherokee town and tribal life (Gearing 1962}, the first part of this study is devoted to an ethnohistorical reconstruc­ tion of the roles, functions and status the Cherokee elders, referred to then as beloved men and beloved women, occupied in aboriginal times. From such a baseline, the decline of the traditional gérontocratie structure of the Cherokee is discussed, leading up to the removal crisis of 1838-39. The emergence of the Eastern Band as a new socio­ political entity is then described largely through biographical sketches of aged Eastern Cherokee leaders and legendary figures. A discussion of historical and socio-economic developments subsequent to the removal period concludes the historical analysis. The contemporary component of this study addresses the question of the role of the aged in modern reservation life. The question of place for older Eastern Cherokee 10

tribal members centers around the following consider­ ations: the historical trends that have altered but not alienated the nature and extent to which the elderly participate in tribal and community affairs; the social structure of today's Eastern Cherokee households and how they incorporate older relatives; the seasonal nature of tribal economy with its emphasis on tourism and the 'Indian image' conç>lex and how it affects the aged; the contemporary trend of cultural revitalization as it reflects on the status of the aged; the commitment of the tribe to provide services to its senior citizens through the elderly program at Tsali Manor; and, the extent to which the traditional symbolic associations and cultural significance of old age have been preserved in modern Eastern Cherokee society vis-à-vis current white attitudes toward the aged. The complex nature of the trends investigated in the course of this study allows only tentative answers to the above issues. It appears that the interplay of histori­ cal, cultural and socio-economic factors, plus the increasing number of elderly reservation residents, has helped the senior citizens to avoid major cultural alienation and social withdrawal. On the other hand, the socio-economic problems faced by many Indian families often create distance between the aged and younger tribal members. 11

Despite the conflicting trends affecting the place of the senior citizens in today's tribal life, the Eastern Cherokees are trying to implement a philosophy, as one put it, of "interdependence rather than indepen­ dence." This philosophy reflects the traditional Cherokee ideals of harmonious social relations where the group, including everyone from the very young to the very old, is the most important social and cultural unit, and not the individual. The philosophy of interdependence is antithetic to the modern American values of individualism and independence. Indeed, a senior citizen who participated in the recent Fifth National Indian Conference on Aging, held in Tulsa in 1984 (see NICOA 1984) , pointed out that the philosophy of interdependence is becoming a central theme of the American Indian political and socio-economic strategies on aging both at the local and national levels. Whether the Eastern Cherokees, and other tribes, will succeed in strengthening the present trend of interdepen­ dence and integration of the aged in the tribal community will depend on a number of factors of both an internal and external nature. Whatever the outcome, it is evident that Indian tribes are currently trying to preserve and acknowledge the important contributions of the aged and the traditional significance of old age in tribal life. 12

In the aboriginal past, traditional values and a communal subsistence economy determined the roles and status of the Cherokee beloved men and women. In the modern reservation setting, more complex, diversified and at times conflicting trends affect the current place of the senior citizens within the tribe. In 1960, John Gulick and his associates introduced the concept of 'Cherokees at the crossroads' in describing the socio­ economic and cultural situation on the Qualla Boundary. Today, the ongoing nature of human processes and the particular historical and social circumstances on the Boundary suggest that the senior citizens and indeed Eastern Cherokee society have reached a new crossroad. Choices have to be made both at the individual and group level in regard to the social, economic and emotional needs of an ever growing number of older tribal members. The problems confronting most senior citizens, their families and the tribe are considerable, particularly with the recent cuts in federal programs and rising unemploy­ ment on the reservation. Even so, the Eastern Cherokees appear determined to find an Indian solution to an Indian problem; in this search for solutions the Eastern Cherokee senior citizens are playing an important role, as the present study will attempt to illustrate. 13

A Review of the Theories of Aging Before examining the methodology employed in this research, it will be useful to review the main theoreti­ cal approaches that have guided most of the research in socio-cultural gerontology. This field can be divided into two general categories. One area of inquiry has been pursued by sociologists and psychologists among the aged in western urban society. Their research has focused primarily on the impact of industrialization and modernization on the life of urban and suburban elderly. Anthropologists, on the other hand, have studied and continue to research the condition of the aged in non­ western, ethnic, tribal societies often in so-called developing countries. The study of older American Indians is a relatively new concern of social gerontology and research in this area has so far been comparatively limited. Sociologists and psychologists have long established their main theoretical themes in gerontological research. They have generally stressed a 'problem oriented' approach to the question of the aged in modern society. Their perspective is largely the result of the unprecedented increase in the number of older persons, the changes caused by modernization on family and social structure, and the Increased stress on the principles of productivity and individualism as guiding criteria in determining one's 14 position and status in modern culture and society. Within such a scheme, the aged have generally become a 'problem* (see Levin and Levin 1980) to which there appears to be no easy 'solution'. Thus, for the last three decades, research on aging in industrial societies has attempted to provide theoretical explanations to the so-called 'aging crisis'. Most studies have in turn attempted to support or disprove the following three major approaches; the theory of disengagement (Gumming and Henry 1961); the activity theory (Lemon, Bengtson, and Peterson 1972); and the subculture theory (Rose 1965) . The disengagement theory was developed by Gumming and Henry (1961) as an alternative to the then widespread position that "successful aging consists in being as much like a middle-aged person as possible" (Gumming and Henry 1961:18). Noting that old age brings the individual to a reduced level of social involvement, the authors concluded that "aging is an inevitable mutual withdrawal or dis­ engagement resulting in decreased interaction between the aging person and others in the social system he belongs to" (1961:14), Although this theory was the result of research confined to older, healthy and economically stable Americans, it was "intended to apply to the aging process in all societies" (Gumming and Henry 1961:15). This assumption, however, was not supported by comparative data, leaving open the question whether a process of 15 disengagement characterizes aging in non-western, ethnic and tribal socio-cultural systems. Criticism of the theory of disengagement has come from the proponents of the activity theory (Lemon, Bengtson, and Peterson 1972), which constitutes a basic review of the engagement aporoach challenged by Gumming and Henry (1961) . For the activity theorists, successful aging is achieved by remaining active and involved in one's personal and social life. In a sense, activity theory appears to be what Levin and Levin (1980:53) call a 'prescription like approach' to be followed by the aged who should aim at "maintaining a large number of roles and being very active in them" (Atchley 1977:219). While disengagement and activity theories focus on the relationship between the individual and society, an alternative approach looks at the aged as a group sharing common concerns and interests. This approach, known as the subculture theory (Rose 1965) , suggests that the aged constitute a socio-cultural group with a. distinctive identity and values. According to Rose (1965:15), the aged are members of a subculture which is often discrimi­ nated against by the larger society (see also Baker 1985). These major theories, however, share a common limitation. They tend to describe characteristics of the aged without questioning the underlying factors determin­ ing the condition of the aged. This issue had been 16

addressed by Rosow (1974) who focused on so-called 'institutional factors' affecting the status of the elderly in contemporary society. According to him, changes in property ownership, strategic knowledge, pro­ ductivity, tradition and religion, modern family and community life-styles have negatively affected the posi­ tion of the aged in western culture and society. While Rosow (1974) emphasized the impact of socio-economic change on the aged, he did not include a thorough assessment of the cultural factors that interact with the socio-economic ones in determining the place of older persons in American society. The importance of looking at socio-institutional, economic and cultural forces in studying the elderly in modern society was pointed out by Clark and Anderson (1967) in their anthropological research on aged Americans in San Francisco. The two anthropologists noted that the condition of the aged in American society is largely determined both by changed roles of the elderly in kinship and social networks, and by the cultural values of our society. In the social sphere, old age brings aloss of roles and consequently status to the extent that "lacking the social prerogatives for a wide participation in the social life, no wonder we observe .., social withdrawal among many elderly" (Clark and Anderson 1967; 135) . 17

Similarly, modern American cultural values project a negative view on old age and, on a more subtle level, on almost anything that is old and associated with the past. The nature of the so-called ’disposal society' itself stresses replacement, the 'new', efficiency, speed and ability to adapt to rapid change, qualities that are generally not found among older people. Instead, the emphasis on individualism, self-sufficiency, the work ethic and so on, tends to trigger feelings of personal inadequacy among the aged who "find it increasingly hard to exemplify these major themes in American culture" (Clark and Anderson 1967:17). Unlike Clark and Anderson (1967), most anthropolo­ gists interested in aging carry on their research in non­ western cultures. Because of the differences which appear to underlie the place of the aged in non­ industrialized societies, a cross-cultural approach is usually employed. Cross-cultural comparative research on aging today still relies heavily on the pioneering study of Leo Simmons on the role of the aged in a sample of the world’s ’primitive societies'. Simmons (1945) selected one hundred-nine traits grouped under the categories of habitat and economy, political and social organization, religion and knowledge, and drew correlations between such traits and the position and treatment of the aged in seventy-one 'primitive' cultures. 18

The two basic points emerging from Simmons' research were: a) the presence of human universels connected with old age; and, b) a wide range of socio-cultural variation in attitudes toward, treatment and condition of the aged throughout the world. Yet, despite the variety of ways in which different cultures have dealt with the aging process, in so-called 'primitive' societies the aged rarely consti­ tuted a 'problem' or were perceived as a burden to the group. Thus, in one of his summary statements Simmons noted that: Even though the aged have had to withdraw from the rigors of life to betake themselves to domestic shelter, they have not been doomed to passivity. The aged have not been mere social parasites. By the exercise of their knowledge, wisdom, experience ... they have often played useful roles, (1945:216) The picture Simmons drew of the aged in traditional cultures remains an indispensable source of information on the subject. Nevertheless, for about three decades after his study, there was practically no specific research done by anthropologists in the field of aging in cross- cultural perspective. Clark provided the following explanation for the absence of an articulated anthropolog­ ical approach to aging: First, relatively few individuals in subsistence economies tend to live to 'old age' as we define it in industrial society. Second, those who do survive to later years often retain relatively good physical and mental faculties and pursue many of the activities of earlier adulthood until shortly before death. (1973:79) 19

It is important to recognize, however, that tribal and peasant societies have long been tied to the industri­ alized world and to western culture which has often influenced if not changed local attitudes and practices toward the aged. Anthropology has thus begun to address the question of what kind of changes have affected the position of tribal and peasant elders within family and society, and, conversely, what factors tend to foster maintenance of traditional roles and functions of the aged in non-western cultures. Today, as our discipline is still defining concepts and gathering primary data on the aged, two major theoretical approaches have guided almost two decades of increased anthropological research on aging; the moderni­ zation approach (Cowgill and Holmes 1972), and the cost and contribution approach (Amoss and Harrell 1981) , In the early 1970s, following a symposium on the status of the aged in tribal and peasant societies, Cowgill and Holmes (1972) proposed a cross-cultural theory of aging which focused on the impact of modernization on the condition of old people in a variety of social settings. Several anthropologists contributed to the study, providing data on the position of the aged in a range of cultures, from the preliterate Sidamo of Southwest Ethiopia (Hamer 1972:15-30), to the peasant Zapotec Indian town of Santo Tomâs Mazaltepec in Mexico 20

(Adams 1972:103-126), and to modern Japan (Plath 1972:133- 150), to mention a few (see Cowgill and Holmes 1972) . The studies were arranged according to the relative degree of modernization of each society. Modernization was defined in terms of literacy, type of economy, house­ hold composition, and other variables. While the authors "made no claim for the precision of this arrangement" (Cowgill and Holmes 1972:306), ample evidence was pro­ vided to support their theory according to which the status and condition of the aged are inversely propor­ tional to the rate of socio-cultural change and the level of modernization. Disengagement appears to increase with the level of modernization, while it is not usually characteristic of the aged in so-called 'primitive' societies. As for contemporary peasant and tribal cultures, the aged there occupy a middle range position, higher than in modern society, but increasingly becoming "more like that of old people in western society" (Adams 1972:126) under the impact of change. Recently Amoss and Harrell (19 81) proposed an alter­ native theoretical framework to the study of the aged, while maintaining a similar cross-cultural approach. Supporters of the new theory criticize the "simplistic ideas «,. that older people are always better valued in stable, preliterate or primitive societies, and that only 21 in ’westernized’ or modernized cultures are they poorly treated" (Eisdorfer 1981:xv). While recognizing that modernization has in general negatively affected the aged, the new theory suggests that in all cultures "the social rank of the old is determined by the balance between the cost of maintaining them and the contribution they are perceived as making" (Eisdorfer 1981:xv). According to Amoss and Harrell (1981) then, cultural variation in the status and condition of the aged would result primarily from different levels of contribution the aged make to the social system. Thus, the 'cost and contribution' theorists suggest that, in addressing the position of the aged in society, the issue "is not social change per se, but whether social change allows old people to reestablish themselves in useful roles" (Amoss 1981a:229), and therefore contribute economically and/or otherwise to society. Despite apparent differences, the cost and contribu­ tion and the modernization approach are in fact complementary. They both provide useful comparative data on the place old people occupy in a number of tribal and peasant societies, A review of recent research in anthropology shows an increased Interest in the socio-cultural study of the aged (see Borgatta and McCluskey 1980; Amoss and Harrell 1981; Fry 1982), but only limited attention devoted to 22

older American Indians. Some relevant information on the position and roles of the aged in nineteenth and early twentieth century tribal life is scattered throughout the vast body of ethnographic and ethnohistorical literature on the American Indian. As noted, the traditional place of older tribal members has also been presented in bio­ graphical form (see Hirschfelder 1973; Brumble 1981, for two comprehensive bibliographies]. The first attempt to analyze the traditional roles and status of older American Indians was Leo Simmons' (1945) study. Drawing on data from 14 Indian tribes in the Human Relations Area Files, Simmons provided ample evidence that, traditionally, the condition of the aged in American Indian societies was generally characterized by emotional well-being and basic socio-economic security. In the tribes considered— the Cherokees were not included in the sample— the elderly of both sexes held considerable power and prestige. Tribal elders were respected and honored; deferent behavior of the young toward the old was a major social norm, while the direct care and support of old people was usually the responsibility of the extended family and the wider social network. Simmons found that since tradi­ tional tribal cultures emphasized religious ceremonialism and economic reciprocity, the aged were able to occupy a central place in tribal life where their skills. 23

knowledge, and religious powers were considered crucial to the well-being of the tribe. For nearly three decades Simmons' work remained an isolated effort in the field of socio-cultural gerontol­ ogy in cross-cultural perspective, and particularly in the study of older American Indians. It was not until the early 1970s that new attention was directed toward the aged sector of the rapidly growing American Indian population, A pilot study by the Advisory Council on the Elderly American Indian (19 71) dramatically pointed out the plight of older Indians asking for remedial action by the federal government and denouncing the lack of accurate information within federal agencies on the condition and needs of elderly Indians, This congressional report originated from an earlier study by the U.S. Department of Agriculture on the changed outlook toward older rural Americans (see Youmans 19 67), The study included a chapter on older American Indians in which Jerrold Levy (1967:221-238) compared the condition of the aged in aboriginal America with the modern situation based primarily on his Navajo sample. According to Levy, as far as pre- and early post-contact times were concerned, "it is not unreasonable to conclude that old age was for the Indian a satisfying time of life" (1967:229). 24

On the other hand, among the Navajo— the largest tribe in the U.S.— Levy found that wagework has encouraged younger Indians to leave the old pastoral way of life, the hogan, the extended kihship network, and move toward establishing nuclear families. As a result, the domestic skills of the aged have lost importance. Similarly, schooling has undermined the educational and advising functions of grandparents and other aged relatives in general. Interestingly, in recent years many young Navajo couples, as on other reservations, have allowed their children to spend summer vacations with their grandparents thus relieving married working parents (or separated, divorced, and single ones) of daily childcare. This seasonal contact between older and younger Indian generations fills an important socio-cultural function and recreates, to some extent, the old tribal pattern in which care of children was often left to the grandparents and other elderly relatives. Since older Indians are the ones who have preserved the tribal language and some of the traditional ways, the experience becomes for the children and their elders alike an integral part of the enculturation process and a strong factor in the preservation of tribal identity (H. Blackgoat, personal communication 1983), 25

This trend in the condition and involvement of the aged in tribal life has not yet been thoroughly addressed in the literature. Thus, the generalized perception from many older sources remains, namely, that most older American Indians live a difficult life physically, socio­ economically, and emotionally. Almost twenty years ago. Levy noted that on some parts of the Navajo reservation the aged still performed traditional functions within the remaining extended matrilineal families, but that most older tribal members had become socially marginal and had lost their roles as "educators and imparters of tribal morality and world view" (Levy 1967:323). They have also lost their central place in the political arena because young, educated Indians are now playing a major role in tribal politics, formerly a traditional prerogative of the elders, Marvin Munsell found a similar situation among the Salt River Pima of Arizona. Among them, "culture change .., has generally deprived the aged of the high status they once enjoyed" (Munsell 1972:132) mainly because, as in the Navajo case, of a shift from extended to nuclear family, and a general loss of 'useful* roles and functions within the modern Indian family and tribal structure. Among some of the conservative pueblos of New Mexico recent socio-economic changes appear to have affected the 26 traditional place of the elders in tribal and family life. For example, under the pressure of economic development, the Pueblo of Laguna has recently instituted a new senior citizens' program to provide for the daily needs of the pueblo's elders, what was once the responsibility of the extended matrilineal households and clans today falls under the social programs of the Pueblo Council which administers nutritional, medical, social and recreational services to elderly Laguna people. As noted, a similar situation is increasingly characterizing the changed relationship between tribal elders and tribal community on some one hundred reser­ vations where Titles VI and III programs for older Indians are now in effect (NICOA 1984:21-23). The Pueblo of Laguna is one of only eight other tribes that provide on- reservation nursing care facilities to their elders (NICOA 1984:22). The need to improve and implement programs to bfetter the physical and mental health, nutrition, and overall condition of older American Indians has been amply documented. During the 19 70s, studies were conducted on the socio-economic problems of elderly Indians in the city (Eck and St. Louis 1972), and within states (Louisiana Health and Human Resources Administration 1975; Montana United Indians Association 1976); on service delivery programs for older Indians on reservations (Allen 1974; 27

Bell 1976}, and on their overall health care needs (DeGeyndt 1973). The impact of aging on the physical and mental health of older Indians was also investigated by the Association of American Indian Physicians (1978) . Moreover, since its incorporation in 1976, the National Indian Council on Aging has conducted research and con­ ferences on the medical, nutritional and economic needs of its constitutency (NICOA 1976, 1980, 1984), As the positive impact of Title VI and Title III programs on Indian elderly has now begun to clearly emerge, little is yet known of the socio-cultural aspects of aging in modern Indian America. Gerry C, Williams (1980) recently reported on the contradictory situation in which many older American Indians find themselves today as far as their socio-cultural roles, functions and status in tribal life are concerned. Based on his research among non-reservation Indians in Oklahoma, Williams found that current cultural revitalization has had a 'stressful' impact on many older Indians who were expected to know or teach about tribal traditions they themselves did not know well or feel comfortable with. On the other hand, the author noted that the Indian elderly "in the past made economic contributions to the Indian family and ... they continue to do so today" (Williams, G. 1980:108). With about one third of all Oklahoma Indians with incomes below the poverty level, 28

the aged "through retirement benefits, social security, or veterans* pensions are the sole source of steady income within many of the extended kin groups" {Williams, G . 1980:106). In a number of Indian families disrupted by alcoholism, the elders provide some guidance and much needed stability to their grandchildren. In conclusion, the author found that aged Indians are still respected, they maintain strong kinship ties, and "the negativism of [old] age is not a[n] ... aspect of the Indian value system" (Williams, G. 1980:110-111). Unlike Williams, Pamela Amoss (1981a, 1981b) found that among contemporary Coast Salish Indians of western Washington and British Columbia cultural revitalization has had a positive impact on the status and place of the elderly in modern tribal and family life. Amoss (1981b) noted that "relatively little work has been done by anthropologists on the ... cultural determinants of rank for the elderly [whereas] more attention has been paid to the social, political and economic dimensions of the problem" (1981b:47). The economic and political roles and functions once played by the aged in traditional Coast Salish society have today been greatly reduced, while new esteem now attributed to the present generation of tribal elders is largely based on the cultural and symbolic roles and images associated with old age in modern Coast Salish life. 29

Modernization in the last two decades has helped the Coast Salish Indians gain a historical view of themselves, re-evaluating not only their relationship with the dominant white society but also with themselves, their traditions, identity, and the tribal meaning of 'old*. With the rapid culture change of the 1970s, the relation­ ship between old people and their culture has been reinterpreted. While young America turned against the 'old' social and cultural order, American Indians like the Coast Salish and other tribes rediscovered the value of their cultural heritage. Amoss thus introduced the concept of 'cultural centrality' to show that contempo­ rary Coast Salish elders "enjoy high prestige on the basis of strictly cultural contributions" (1981b:47), What at the turn and early decades of this century was considered the problem of the so-called 'blanket Indian' which often caused ridicule of older generations for their attachment to tribal identity, language and traditions, today has become a source of pride and a rallying point for the aspirations of Indian tribes. In such a context, the aged emerge as one of the key human and socio-cultural elements of contemporary Coast Salish life: Now, that which is defined as old is once more highly esteemed .... The significant opposition is still between Indian culture, which is defined as old, and white culture, which is new, but the 30

evaluation has been reversed. That which is old is now good; new is now bad. Old Indian people are still judged to embody the old culture, but they are now esteemed for what was a liability to their grand­ parents. (Amoss 1981b:55-56) The revival of tribal ceremonies among the Coast Salish has further redefined the central place of older tribal members. Coast Salish elders "have virtual mono­ poly over [traditional ceremonies and] other ritual specialties that affect the general welfare" (Amoss 1981b: 58) . Similarly, older Indians are rewarded with high social status and prestige because "younger people fear that when the last of these old people die .., there will be no way of recovering the treasures of the past" (Amoss 1981b:62). The present Coast Salish elders have thus assumed a position of cultural centrality in their commu­ nities. Whether today's middle-aged Indians will be granted the same status and prestige when they replace their elders is an open question but for now aged Coast Salish "have become the arbiters of Indian identity" (Amoss 1981b: 59) . It appears, from the preceding discussion, that both historical and contemporary socio-cultural factors play an important role in the assessment of the place of older American Indians in family, community and tribal life. Since my own study was concerned exclusively with the elderly members of the Eastern Band of Cherokees, atten­ tion was paid to the cultural and synchronic factors 31

suggested by Amoss and Harrell (1981) and to the histori­ cal, diachronic elements studied by Cowgill and Holmes (1972). The validity of a combined approach to the study of older American Indians in general, and elderly Eastern Cherokee in particular, appears to be justified both by the paucity of current information on the subject, and the need to clarify historical differences between tribes in the process of culture contact, accommodation and change as they pertain to older tribal members, The details of the methodology employed in this study are discussed in the following pages.

Methods and Tools of Research Most social gerontologists agree that regardless of specific theoretical orientations the study of the aged in culture and society should follow two general methodolog­ ical guidelines (see Fry 1982:14-17): a historical one, to establish a comparative baseline from which to address the question of change through time in the roles, functions and status of the aged; and a contextual one, to analyze the position the aged occupy with respect to the totality of a given socio-cultural system. Reconstruction of a historical baseline, interpretation of the direction of socio-cultural change and analysis of the current con­ textual setting— integrated by specific field procedures-- constituted the methodological approach employed in 32

attempting to draw a picture of the place of the aged as beloved men and beloved women in traditional society, and as senior citizens in modern reservation life. The reconstruction of the aboriginal, pre-Removal, position of the aged in tribal life revealed the com­ plexity of what has generally been accepted as a linear model of Cherokee acculturation. There also appeared to be some confusion in the literature as to the processes that led to the eclipse of the traditional Cherokee gerontocracy and, later, to the emergence of the modern Eastern Band as a new socio-political entity led by a democratically elected tribal government. As for the contemporary setting, a preliminary assessment of the socio-economic and cultural trends on the Qualla Boundary indicated the presence of a diversified situation both in terms of individual and group typologies and in the modalities of acculturation. Notwithstanding apparent oversimplifications, anthro­ pologists (see Gulick 1960; Kupferer 1966, 1968; Hodge 1981) divide the Eastern Cherokees into so-called modern or progressive communities, and traditional or conserva­ tive ones. The townships of Yellowhill (with Cherokee proper), Birdtown, Painttown, and Wolfetown are generally considered predominantly progressive, while Big Cove and Snowbird— the latter located outside the Qualla Boundary— are generally regarded to be made up mostly of 33

conservative or traditional Indians. The Eastern Chero­ kee tribal population presents a degree of socio-economic and cultural heterogeneity that reflects, particularly in the Qualla communities, the presence of full-bloods, mixed-bloods, and enrolled members with minimal Indian inheritance. The terms full-blood and mixed-blood are herein sociologically defined, as suggested by McGregor (1946) . The former are traditionally oriented tribal members, regardless of the degree of Indian blood, although there appears to be a positive correlation between degree of Indian inheritance and socio-cultural conservatism. The mixed-bloods, among whom are many so-called 'white Indians', tend to lean more toward white culture; many mixed-bloods are indeed phenotypically predominantly white. The full-blood/mixed-blood dichotomy is a pervasive factor in tribal and local community life. The topic is a sensitive one and beyond the scope of this research. It will be discussed only in so far as it pertains to the older generation of tribal members. Socially, the Eastern Cherokees present a decentralized settlement pattern and a predominantly nucleated household composition. Residential proximity to aged relatives or the inclusion of at least one older person in the house is not uncommon. There is also some tendency toward matrifocality; but this seems to be more 34 the result of divorce and separation than of traditional social patterns (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974: 54) , Culturally, we find at Qualla a widespread acceptance of white material culture of a southern Appalachian, rural/mountain type; this is also the case of the variety of English spoken on the reservation. There appears to be a general acceptance of Christianity, particularly of the Southern Baptist denomination, paralleled by a seemingly total eclipse of traditional Indian beliefs and rituals. On the other hand, the Eastern Cherokees as a tribal entity manifest a strong sense of tribal and Indian identity (Jackson 1975), combined with a relative­ ly widespread use of the Cherokee language, mostly among the elderly, and the persistence of certain traditional socio-cultural values and behavior. Most importantly, because of its possible impact on the aged, in recent years a growing interest in the revitalization of tribal traditions has occurred among many Eastern Cherokees. This cultural renascence found its momentum in the historic reunion of the Western and Eastern Cherokees at Red Clay, Tennessee, during the spring of 1984, in the following years's second reunion in Oklahoma, and in a general revitalization of tradi­ tional dances and ceremonies on the Qualla Boundary (Gil Jackson, personal communication 1985; see also Corn 1984 35

for the Red Clay reunion). It is therefore clear that the contemporary world of the Eastern Cherokees is much like a socio-cultural micro­ cosm in which we find operating both modern forces and traditional trends. Similarly the Eastern Cherokees, although they share many of its features, maintain a well defined ethnic (tribal) identification as Indians and/or Cherokees with respect to the surrounding white, rural Appalachian society and culture. Thus, an assessment of the contemporary role and status of the aged in reserva­ tion life had to take into consideration such a diversified context and a complex historical background. Aiming at both a historical and contextual approach I acknowledged— like others before me— that "obviously a population numbering over 4,000 [6,000 in 1983} is too large for one person to know" {Kupferer 1966:227), even when the research was limited to some 600 elderly tribal members. This has been and remains a recurring 'problem' of anthropological research. It has generally been approached from, two methodological perspectives. One has been to select one or more segments (e.g,, a local community, organization, social network, etc.) to be used as samples from which to infer patterns that may or may not apply to the overall society under study. This approach was followed by the research team led by John Gulick (1960) in their survey of the socio-cultural and 36 economic status of the Qualla Cherokees in the late 1950s. The selection of a number of informants within the total social system is the second methodological approach generally used by anthropologists. At Eastern Cherokee, this method was employed by Harriet Kupferer (1966) in her dissertation research on the different social and cultural groups comprising the Eastern Band. In my own case, I conducted interviews and participant observation not confined to two originally selected townships because senior citizens from various communities offered to assist me in the research, thus requiring me to embrace the Qualla Boundary as the field of study. I also had to take into account the presence at Qualla of a large and effective program for the elderly. Tsali Manor, the Senior Citizens'Center located in Cherokee, not only houses some twenty elderly residents in its annexed apartment complex but is also a daily meeting place for over one hundred senior citizens who participate in nutritional and related programs. Since at Tasli Manor elderly converge from throughout the Boundary, the Center offered a cross-section of the total elderly population, and an insight into the nature and extent of their participation in the elderly program. While clearly aware, both from literature research and my preliminary trip to Cherokee, of the complex and broad context in which older tribal members operate today, 37

Edmund Leach's recommendation was instrumental in direct­ ing my line of research; Ethnographic facts will be much easier to understand if we approach them free of all ... a priori assumptions. Our concern is with what the significant categories are, not with what they ought to be. (1961:27) In order to identify such significant categories, two research tools were applied to research in the field, namely, participant observation, and interviews with key and other informants. Participant observation "the most renowned of anthropological tools" (Pelto and Pelto 1978: 74) provided the basic insight into the daily activities, routines and interactions of the senior citizens. Having been granted permission by the Tribal Council to reside on the reservation and living with friends in Cherokee, I had opportunities to visit and interview senior citizens at Tsali Manor and in various communities on the Boundary, particularly in Soco, Big Y and Bigwitch, which are part of Wolfetown, in Birdtown and Big Cove, and in Cherokee. Interviews in the local communities generally took place in the latter part of the week and on week-ends when the Senior Citizens' Center is closed. Such a schedule allowed more time for interviews and casual conversations, but also brought me into many Cherokee homes at a time when not only the elders but also other family members were present. For those senior citizens 38

who live alone, my presence for several hours over the week-end provided opportunities for quite congenial companionship. The earlier part of the week was generally spent at Tsali Manor, thanks to the kind acceptance of the staff and the senior citizens. Having also been granted permission to share rides with the senior citizens on the two vans that provide free escort services I was able to gain a better understanding of the overall program, how it is perceived by the elders, and often to visit areas of the Boundary I would not have been aware of or been able to reach on my own. Interviews with key informants, which are "used to best advantage when closely integrated with participant observation" (Pelto and Pelto 1978:74), were conducted in English, bilingualism being widespread among the senior citizens. They found it quite amusing that both they and I, whose native language is not English, used that medium to make each other understood. Interviews were largely unstructured. However, to provide uniformity of topics for later analysis and comparison I usually followed a general guideline that focused on questions such as: the elderly person's living arrangements and household composition; the activities he or she performs within the family, the local community or township, and the tribe; his or her views of the actual and/or potential 39 contributions of the senior citizens to tribal society and culture; the nature and extent of his or her partici­ pation in the program for the elderly at Tsali Manor; his or her knowledge of symbolic associations with old age and how old age is perceived in modern reservation life; and, anything the senior citizen would like to talk about (most touched upon past episodes of their personal life]. Although no a priori assumption was made as to the role of traditional values and symbols associated with old age in affecting the present condition and status of the aged, my interest in cultural symbolism as a factor in the general question of American Indian aging inevitably influenced my Interviews. Except on a few occasions, I received a very kind and even friendly reception among the Eastern Cherokees in general and their senior citizens in particular. I later understood that the joking relationship that at times developed between the elders and myself was an indication of their acceptance. A positive interaction with the senior citizens was helped by the following. First, the Eastern Cherokees are familiar with anthropologists towards whom they have a history of tolerant acceptance. Among the senior citizens I inter­ viewed there were some who remembered working with John Click and his associates over twenty years ago, and with other authors (Fogelson 1962; Kupferer 1966; Cantrell 40

1973; Neely 1979). Second, my Italian background and my 'speaking with an accent* raised the curiosity and sympathy of many senior citizens some of whom had served on the European front during the Second World War and remembered my native country. My comparatively 'dark' phenotypical traits initially puzzled a few elders who, accustomed to seeing blond-haired and blue-eyed people claiming to be Indian, wondered whether I could be, as one asked me, a 'Cherokee from Oklahoma'. Most importantly, however, I think that the presence of an interested listener willing to spend time with them was perceived by many as a good opportunity to evade routine, at time isolation, and to have an attentive companion. Four senior citizens, three men and one woman, assisted me as principal informants; in addition, some eleven senior citizens were also interviewed at length both at Tsali Manor and in their respective communities. Other tribal members, and the staff of Tsali Manor were also important sources of information. As indicated in the introductory pages, the anonymity of my informants has been preserved, in the case of tribal officials or of well-known individuals whose names have already appeared in the press, X cited their names in full only when quoting from a published source. 41

In the preparation of the research tools and in the analysis of the field data I followed the general guide­ lines of the OARS instrument, a tool which is becoming commonly used in research on aging among American Indians. The anthropological concerns of my research required a modification of the instrument toward more social and cultural categories of inquiry. Yet, the OARS methodolo­ gical and procedural guidelines were helpful and thus employed as needed. The OARS instrument was developed by the Center for the Study of Aging and Human Development at Duke University as part of a pilot study of Older Americans Resources and Services, hence the name OARS. Of the two major studies undertaken with the OARS interview and questionnaire guidelines, one was conducted in 19 75 among some 1,800 elderly residents of Cleveland, Ohio. The other was conducted five years later among older North American Indians (NICOA 1981} . In 1980, the National Indian Council on Aging (NICOA) in cooperation with the Administration on Aging (AOA) and other federal agencies (see NICOA 1981:13-15) employed the OARS (modified) multidimensional survey in what is considered the first national profile of older American Indians drawn so far (NICOA 1981) . The OARS instrument used in the NICOA survey consisted of two main components. One focused on a functional assessment of the elderly's social and economic resources, mental 42 and physical health, etc. The other examined the nature and extent of the services provided to, and needed by, the elderly. In the study conducted by NICOA the target population included some 800 elderly American Indians in 32 tribes and native Alaska villages,and six urban centers The Eastern Cherokees were not included in the sample. Details of my use of the modified OARS instrument are discussed in Chapter IV where field data are dis­ cussed. For now, I should emphasize that research tools such as OARS are a useful addition to, but cannot be used as a replacement for, traditional socio-cultural research methods. While as anthropologists we are seeking to explain the ways in which cultures solve certain human problems, such as aging and treatment of the aged, we strive not to lose sight of the human element as our primary concern.. In acknowledging the limitations of my own research on such a sensitive and broad topic as the place of the aged in a given socio-cultural system, I also realize that it is precisely our discipline's concern with culture as people (and not a vague super­ structure) that allows us to make our distinct contribu­ tion to the study of man, and, in the emerging field of the anthropology of aging, to a better understanding of the aged in culture and society. 43

Terminology A methodological problem that often arises in a socio-cultural study of the aged centers around the definitional question of 'old age' and the 'elderly', and the terminology, both native and English, employed in the research. As far as determining what constitutes old age and how to define it in the context of anthropological research, Leo Simmons suggested that "the simplest and safest rule to follow is to consider a person as 'old' whenever he [or she] is so treated by his contemporaries" (194 5:16). The same author also noted that longevity was not a widespread phenomenon in aboriginal America, although scattered evidence indicates that some indivi­ duals reached considerable age; "In North America there are recorded cases of Chippewa of 95, of Hopi men and women nearly 100, and of Iroquois men of 103" (Simmons 1945:16; see Ubelaker and Jantz 1985 for a discussion of longevity in aboriginal North America). Traditionally among American Indians the combination of certain signs associated with old age and other social and cultural factors, rather than chronological age, determined when a person gained the right to the social status of tribal elder. As far as age alone was con­ cerned Simmons noted that "the number of persons reaching 65 ... [was] quite low and perhaps rarely ever exceed[ed] 3 per cent" (1945:18). The signs associated with old age 44

probably appeared at a younger age than now. It can be estimated that, notwithstanding tribal differences, the late forties were the approximate chronological threshold which marked one's passage into 'old age* (compare Simmons 1945; Dobyns 1966; Ubelaker and Jantz 1985}. Such a tentative estimate, however, must have varied according to local traditions and was certainly influenced by different subsistence patterns and ecologi­ cal settings. Generally speaking, sedentary agricultural tribes tended to have a longer life expectancy than nomadic, hunting-gathering groups. Eighteenth century Cherokee, specifically, were a quite long-lived people with a subsistence economy based primarily on intensive agriculture. For example, John Haywood (1823:237, passim) commented that the Cherokees lived to a very old age. The longevity of the Cherokees was in turn reflected in the age required to gain the status of 'beloved man' or 'clan matriarch' (beloved grandmother) . Fogelson and Kutsche (1961:90) estimated that at approximately "age 55 or when their hair had turned grey . . , mature Chero­ kee men became eligible for a seat on the local town coun­ cil of elders, while aged women formally acquired senior­ ity status within the seven matrilineal clans of the tribe. Today, due to a number of political and economic factors, chronological age plays an important role in the Indian definition of elderly. While among contemporary 45

American Indians social and cultural traditions still influence the how and when of one's recognition as a tribal elder, Indian tribes and communities have increas­ ingly adopted basic chronological criteria in accordance with the age required for eligibility to programs for the elderly under current federal and state legislation. According to figures released by the National Indian Council on Aging, of the 85 tribes in the Title VI program (direct federal funding to tribes) "currently 41 tribes define 'older Indian' as age 60 and over; there are 35 tribes that use 55 and over, 8 using SO and over, and 1 tribe using 45 and over" (NICOA 1984: 21), These diverse chronological criteria reflect, in part, the range in life expectancy of modern reservation Indians, and the steps taken by tribes to address such differences. The life expectancy of the overall Indian population is circa 65 years (Bureau of Indian Affairs 1982b:3) as compared with the 71 years figure for the total U.S. population (Hacker 1983). Similarly, pathologies and the normal physical deterioration associated with old age strike sooner among American Indians than among the rest of the adult American popula­ tion (see Association of American Indian Physicians 1978), At Eastern Cherokee, the '60 and over' criterion generally applies to the tribal definition of senior citizens (EBCI Senior Citizens' Center, personal 46 communication 1983]. The present study has therefore adhered to such a definition which reflects a general perception among the Eastern Cherokees that those referred to as elders are the senior citizens who gather daily at Tsali Manor or receive home delivered meals and other services. In general, under this category are included those men and women eligible for or served by the senior citizens program. Under this definition are some 600 members of the Eastern Band, about 10 per cent of the total resident tribal population. The late fifties and early sixties reflect a thres­ hold in the adult life of most Eastern Cherokees. If middle age is passed without major medical or socially related problems, the prospect of a relatively healthy old age is good despite, of course, the inescapable physical effects caused by the aging process. A tribal member characterized the present situation as follows: [Mountain] life is pretty good up here. That's why many Cherokees want to come back when they retire. Those who [have] lived all their life on the Boundary, well, if they don't die of diabetes, heart failure, or drinking problems when they are forty or fifty years old ... well, they've got a pretty good chance to live on into their seventies, maybe even older. Folks over sixty receive special services under Titles HI and VI [of the Older Americans Act]. We've got a fine program for the senior citizens up there at Tsali Manor ... got some problems right now, but the old folks are quite satisfied with it. Such a 'survivor-like' characterization of the condition of the elderly, as crude as it might sound. 47 reflects a situation common among many middle-aged and elderly American Indians. The testimonies of the senior citizens corroborate the above statement, particularly in regard to diseases of the heart, malignant neoplasm, cirrhosis of the liver and alcoholism which are leading causes of death among middle-aged Eastern Cherokees (Indian Health Service, Cherokee Hospital, personal communication 1983; see also Bureau of Indian Affairs 1982b:4). Because these pathologies take a deadly toll on Indian people at Qualla as on other reservations, the current characterization of the elderly as 'survivors’ does not seem unreasonable. Indeed, Eastern Cherokee senior citizens take great pride in their old age and in their generally good health for which they credit, as many put it, the Good Master and their own better judg­ ment in avoiding excesses and alcohol in their youth. The English terms elderly, elders, senior citizens, and old folks or people are all used interchangeably by the Eastern Cherokees in referring to senior tribal members (and also to elderly whites residing on the Boundary) , The term 'tribal elder’ is not as common as the other forms and, as far as I could determine, it appears that contemporary Eastern Cherokees do not make the anthropological distinction between the term elder, as denoting a given social status, and elderly as a generic characteristic of age. 48

The old Cherokee term anldawehi, meaning literally wise men but also interpreted in the literature as beloved men, is no longer in common use among native speakers* It is likely that this word has fallen in disuse because in the modern socio-political and cultural organization of the North Carolina Cherokees old age per se does not bring the very special status it did in traditional times. On the other hand, the English substi­ tutes such as old people and the like appear to have maintained the positive connotation of the native term; in fact, the former do not appear to be associated with negative images. Generally speaking, the negative sterotypes which characterize old age and old people in white society (Levin and Levin 1980; Baker 1985) have not influenced the attitudes of the Eastern Cherokees toward their senior citizens. Native Cherokee speakers use the term tsun(i)tahistv for old men, and anigayulige for old women. The former literally means something like 'old ancestors' or 'past progenitors' (compare Holmes and Smith 1976:62). Anigayulige can be translated as 'very mature, completely grown up' and it has a complimentary connotation (Holmes and Smith 1976: 62). Thus, in referring to old people in general, the form anigayuli is used. With older relatives, native kinship terms are still widely used: agiduda (lit. ray) grandfather, and agilisi 49

(lit. my) grandmother. The forms agidutsi (lit. my) uncle, and agitlogi (lit. my) aunt, are also commonly used and are, of course, not limited to aged relatives in that category. Interestingly however, a senior citizen from Big Y pointed out to me that in her youth all the old people in general were commonly addressed as agidutsi or agitlogi by native speakers, even in the absence of formal kinship ties. Such a custom is still common on the Boundary, and some of the more popular or well known senior citizens have been and are addressed affectionate­ ly with the English terms aunt or uncle as in the case of the late Mrs. Lula Gloyne, who was called Aunt Lula, or Mr. Goliath George, better known as Uncle Gee, and the late 'Aunt' Sarah Bradley. Today, however. Eastern Cherokee society as a whole has lost much of the kinship system based on matrilineal descent— the seven clans— and the reciprocal terminology associated with it (see Gilbert 1955:285-338). Nor do the traditional behavior patterns of familiarity and avoidance expected of individuals within the matrilineal clan system any longer characterize social life on the reservation. Anglo kinship terminology and bilateral descent have been substituted for the old Crow-type kinship system and the social norms it implied. Still, respect towards the elderly members of the Band continues to characterize modern Eastern Cherokee 50 attitudes and behavior, as reflected for example in the persistent use of the term anigayuli among native speakers. As we shall see, the generally positive per­ ception of old age and status of the senior citizens is not just a residual, perhaps vanishing, cultural trait of a few conservative tribal members but a viable living legacy of respect and a reflection of the social, econom­ ic, and symbolic roles the senior citizens continue to play in Eastern Cherokee life. CHAPTER II

HISTORICAL DIMENSIONS

Where Memories Do Not Reach One of the images projected by our discipline on trib­ al elders is their familiarity with oral tradition, legends and mythologies upon which later tribal history was eventually built. While this is still probably valid for the elders of many western tribes, the situation at Eastern Cherokee is somewhat different and it reflects the unique contact history of this segment of the aboriginal Cherokee tribe. Many older Indians on the Qualla Boundary still preserve a considerable knowledge of tribal lore, traditional rituals and dances, beliefs and ethical codes, in addition to a vast native pharmacopeia. However, there appears to be a vacuum as far as the provenience, early history and organization of the tribe, and the initial contacts with the white man are concerned (see Mooney 1900a; Meredith and Milan 1981) . The critical years between the close of the eighteenth century and the Treaty of New Echota (1835), and subsequent removal in 1838-1839, left a profound mark on the Cherokee people. For the Cherokee Nation, the removal caused the actual death of most of the oldest and youngest segments of 51 52

the tribe; with the former died much of the tribal lore and traditional knowledge, and with the latter that precious audience dear to the elders, that transgenera- tional link necessary to cultural survival was negatively affected. Compared with their western kinsmen, the eastern or mountain Cherokees had retained many of the traditional ways up to the time of the removal (compare Malone 1952) . These Cherokees had by subsequent treaties been left outside the boundaries of the Cherokee Nation (see DeRosier 1975). They too, however, were directly affected by the crisis of 1838-1839 even though its political outcome was for them different from that of the western Cherokees (Harmon 1929). Except for a 'pocket' of some 300 (?) Qualla Cherokees formally citizens of North Carolina (Bauer 1970; Finger 1984) all other Chero­ kees in the Carolines and Tennessee were rounded up and forced to move west. The reaction of the mountain Cherokees to the removal operations was mixed. Many went along taking their elders on the Trail of Tears on which the majority of the old people found death. A few hundred Indians fled to the mountains with their families where many elderly died of exposure and/or starvation. Others, after arriving in Indian Territory eventually made their way back to the Smokies. For the western and eastern 53

Cherokees alike, the removal crisis was particularly hard on the tribal elders who just a few years earlier had joined Chief John Ross in denouncing the 1835 treaty. The generation vacuum left by the dispossession and death of so many Cherokee (see Thornton 1984: 298}, parti­ cularly among the elderly, plus other acculturative factors, weakened the already beleaguered gérontocratie structure of Cherokee society in the west and to a lesser extent in the 'surviving* eastern community. One of the things most affected by the traumatic events of the mid- 1800s was the preservation and transmission of tribal oral history, a body of knowledge that had been syste­ matized by the tribal elders, priests and medicine men. It included sacred myths explaining the meaning of human and animal presence in the cosmos, religious and moral teachings, ethical laws, and also legends of migrations, wars, legendary leaders and peacemakers. As Duane King pointed out, for untold centuries these sacred stories [were] passed down from generation to generation. The ... tribal elders conveyed their ... knowledge to only a select few. The myth-keepers ... met with their students around the fire in the 0-si or winter house to recite the traditions and provide individual instruction. (1982:24) The breaking down of the traditional order reached a climax with the removal. Nevertheless, a core of tradi­ tionalist Cherokees survived both in the west and in the east, despite the pervasive efforts of missionaries, 54

Indian converts, and white officials to eradicate aborig­ inal ethics, beliefs and rituals (see Finger 1984; McLoughlin 1984}. In the west, the remaining traditionalists organized themselves as the Nighthawk Keetoowahs secret society (Hendrix 1983), while the rest of the Cherokee Nation began again to move forward in the process of accultura­ tion. Among the North Carolina Cherokees the pressing need to reorganize and stabilize their presence in the east had drawn much of the energies of the small Band following the 1838 crisis. Apparently, the last myth- keepers had perished during those eventful years and the traditional Osi, or men's winter house, had fallen into disuse. With the passing of the tribal priests the most ancient and secret knowledge of the mountain Cherokees was forgotten. This might explain why today's older tribal members apparently retain little knowledge of the aboriginal history of the tribe. On the other hand, speaking with the senior citizens one cannot but notice the presence of considerable standardization in those areas of tribal lore that have survived the onslaught of acculturation and modernization. This standardization is probably the result of an event which has generally been regarded as an example of Cherokee acculturation and 'progress', but that also played à major role in the preservation and 55 transmission of what remained of their traditional lore. In 1821 the chiefs and beloved men of the tribe had endorsed the 'talking leaf of George Guest (1760-1843), or the Sequoyah Syllabary from its inventor's Cherokee name. It had taken Sequoyah, a mixed-blood Cherokee from Tennessee more than ten years to develop a syllabary of 85 symbols, each representing corresponding sounds and sound clusters in spoken Cherokee (Mooney 1900a:219-220). Within a few years most of the Cherokee population had acquired literacy in the new syllabary. Tribal papers, bibles, religious and political pamphlets, docu­ ments, and teaching aids for Cherokee children were published in the new characters of the Sequoyah Syllabary. Besides the official publications, a different "literary movement' arose among the tribal elders and medicine men. From the number of manuscripts collected so far, it appears that the conservative mountain Cherokees of North Carolina were particularly receptive toward, and pro­ lific in, the use of the native syllabary. The syllabary was used to write down, often in unsystematic fashion, legends, myths, sacred formulas, ritual prescriptions, and other information which had until then been trans­ mitted orally across generations. Some senior citizens suggested that the old medicine men, or conjurmen, after the removal began to write down in Cherokee ancient rituals and songs for fear they might 56

be forgotten for lack of apprentices. Others noted that by using the Sequoyah Syllabary the elders could store information that was not understood by the mixed-bloods and, most importantly, by white officials and missionaries. It also seems likely that, by the turn of the century, the smaller number of medicine men saw it feasible to begin collecting the complex and fast disappearing tribal lore in written form, becoming actual 'owners* of certain formulas and rituals that could eventually be used as needed, exchanged or sold to other medicine men. The result of the incorporation of the syllabary in the 'tool kit' of the 'remaining' medicine men of the mountain Cherokees was the development of a native mythico-religious and therapeutic literature that has come to us thanks to the cooperation that was established between the Cherokee elders and students of Cherokee culture among whom emerges the pioneering figure of James Mooney (see Moses 1984). Still, many aspects of aborig­ inal Cherokee history appear not to have survived among the present generation of senior citizens. By the elders' own admission, modernization has shifted the main interests of younger generations and there has not been, until quite recently, a strong need or will to preserve certain ancient knowledge. Over the last century Christianization, schooling, socio-economic change, the breakdown of the clan system, and residential dispersion 57

have contributed to a general reduction in content and context of traditional knowledge. What the present generation of older Eastern Chero­ kees have acquired by oral tradition from their older relatives or perhaps even from reading native manuscript material still in possession of some Indian families on the reservation is only a part of a greater body of knowledge which is today partly stored in the anthropo­ logical literature, partly preserved by the elders themselves, and partly irremediably lost. It is not surprising, therefore, that many younger Eastern Cherokees who have become increasingly interested in tribal traditions will consult not only the elders up in the coves of the Smoky Mountains but also the local library at the Cherokee Community Center and the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, As I attempted to reconstruct a picture of the role and status of the aged, the beloved men and women, in the context of ancient Cherokee culture and society, the information provided by elderly informants was insuffi­ cient and had to be integrated by considerable bibliographic research. In the following pages, I will discuss the gérontocratie features of aboriginal Cherokee culture history in an attempt to provide also the necessary historical background to the contemporary component of this study. 58

Aniyunwiya: A Historical Sketch of the Principal People The Cherokees were one of the largest tribes east of the Mississippi River (Swanton 1946:114). In prehistoric times they had migrated south from an unidentified area in the northeast'and had settled in the southern Appalachian region. In their new homeland the historic Cherokees adopted a socio-cultural pattern of the southeastern type (Swanton 1946), with emphasis on agriculture, a dual political organization of peace and war councils made up of tribal elders, and a complex religious ritual that centered around the river cult (Mooney 1900b). Upon reaching the southern Appalachian valleys, the Cherokees went on to occupy different areas and became thus known as the Upper, Middle or Kituhwa, and Lower divisions of the nation. The northern provenience of the Cherokees is suggested by their linguistic affiliation to the Iroguoian language family (Mithun 1979:133-137). On the basis of considerable differences between Cherokee and Northern Iroguoian Mooney suggested that the separa­ tion between the two groups "must have occurred at a very early period" (1900a:16). An early migration south and a long residence thereafter also accounts for the presence of three "distinctive, though mutually intelligible dialects" (Gilbert 1943:178), known as Lower- Elati, Middle-Kituhwa, and Upper-Atali, The Elati 59

dialect of the Lower division is now extinct. The Kituhwa dialect of the Middle division is still spoken in North Carolina by the Eastern Cherokees on the Qualla Boundary. The Atali dialect of the Overhill or Upper division is spoken by the Oklahoma Cherokees and the Eastern Cherokees of the Snowbird Community (Sharpe 1970: 6; see also Chapter IV). In the early 1700s the Cherokees began intense interaction with French and British colonial authorities who competed for the control of the southern Indian trade (see Crane 1928; Gearing 1962:79-98). Prior to this tim% it appears that the three tribal divisions acted independently both on internal and external matters. Although the Cherokees recognized their unity as a tribe, their vast territory justified a decentralized political structure (compare Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:98; Reid 1970:11-33). Local autonomy facilitated the management of economic resources according to the local topography, ecology and need of each town. Cohesion among regional clusters of towns was promoted by seven so-called •mother towns* (or beloved towns) of the nation, which served as ceremonial and political capitals (see Reid 1970:18-19). In each of these local capitals sat a council of elderly priests, their apprentices, and senior representatives of the seven clans from surrounding towns. This council guided local activities according to common 60 tribal laws, traditions, and the ritual calendar (Lewis and Kneberg 1958; Sharpe 1970); maintained contacts between mother towns through special messengers; and, occasionally, came together in one of the mother towns for a national council of the tribe (compare Gearing 1962; Reid 1970; Goodwin 1977). Early travelers (Adair 1775; Bertram 1791; Lanman 1848; see also Williams, S. 1928; Clark, T. 1956) reported that the Cherokees were a prosperous and populous tribe. According to an early census (reported in Crane 1928:131-132), in 1715 the Cherokees totaled over eleven thousand people living in some sixty towns (see Starr 1917; Swanton 1946; Reid 1970:6, 11-33; Goodwin 1977:41-48, 112-124 for other estimates). A reduction in population occurred in the early 1700s as a result of a smallpox epidemic that swept across the Cherokee nation. The famous British trader and historio­ grapher James Adair (1709-1783) later reported that the Cherokees were totally helpless against the epidemic. Even the old priests and medicine men, very knowledgeable about disease and curing, were unable to help the victims of the strange pestilence (Adair 1775:244), Despite the destruction caused by the epidemic, by the mid-1700s the Cherokees had recovered and again prospered thanks to their skills in exploiting the rich agricultural lands of southern Appalachia. The Cherokee 61 towns were thriving agricultural and trading centers. Some white traders had settled among them, and many items of white material culture had been incorporated in the daily life of the people {Rothrock 1929). Local town life, however, particularly in the more isolated settlements of the Kituhwa division went on according to the traditional cycles that had marked Cherokee life "from time immemorial" (Reid 1970:7).

Life in the Cherokee Town Frank Speck and Leonard Bloom, in a passage now famous among students of Cherokee, pointed out that Chero­ kee ethnography "has been so little investigated that Cherokee culture is known chiefly for its acquisitions from white civilization rather than for its native properties" (1951:1). One such property was the integra­ tion, through prestigious status and roles, of aged tribal members in the social, political, economic, and ceremonial life of the town. The town was the center of aboriginal Cherokee life (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:91; Reid 1970:29-30). There life unfolded according to the seasonal rhythms that marked individual and group activities as the townspeople organ­ ized themselves according to the traditional dichotomies of clan membership, sex, and age. There too, the aged found their place in the fabric of town life by performing 62 specific functions within the seven clans, the communal and clan based agricultural activities, the domestic and public spheres, and the intense ceremonial cycle. Since little is known of the gérontocratie structure of aboriginal Cherokee society, I shall begin by looking at the position and role of the aged within the structure of the clan. The historic Cherokees had seven ma tri­ lineal exogamous clans "each represented in varying proportions in each town" (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:91), The clans were the main social and economic units in the town; clans regulated marriage and provided the work brigades for the communal agricultural activities. Each clan was represented on the town council by its elders, the beloved men and, occasionally, the beloved women. The clans were also directly involved in the ceremonials and rituals associated with the annual agricultural cycle. Vertically, the clan linked its members with the mythological ancestors, emphasized the prestige associated with the aged clansmen, and gave meaning and sense of continuity to the individual and the group. Horizontally, the clan provided cohesiveness among its various lineages, within and between towns. The clan was also the "most important unit in Cherokee [aboriginal] law. As the exogamous institution of the nation [it was] responsible for the maintenance of order and the redress of wrong . . , the education of children and the imposition of sanctions" 63

(Reid 1970:37). The clans were in fact the fabric of tribal cohesiveness, solidarity and identity (Gilbert 1955; Gearing 1962; Reid 1970). While today the clans have ceased to constitute functional socio-economic units, they remain culturally important among a large segment of the Eastern Cherokee population, particularly the senior citizens who are the last ones to remember when the clans still played a role in the social life of the Eastern Cherokees. Indeed, three of the six townships on the Boundary were named after Cherokee clans; they are Birdtown (Tsiskwa’hi), Wolfetown (Waya’hi), and Painttown (Aniwodi *hi). The seven Cherokee clans were: Wild Potato (Anigatogewi), Bird (Anitsiskwa), Long Hair or Twister (Aniqilohi), Blue Paint (Anishahoni), Red Paint (Aniwodi), Deer (Anikawi), and Wolf (Aniwayah). Each clan, composed of a number of extended matri­ local households, bound its members by a powerful bond reckoned through the mother's line. Clan loyalty was so powerful that it surpassed bonds of marriage and father­ hood, Within each clan, members of the same generation called each other brothers and sisters and were expected to offer each other mutual solidarity and assistance through life (Reid 1970:37-38), Of the seven clans, four were of primary importance to every Cherokee: first, and most important was the mother's clan which was also 64

one's own clan, and then the father's clan. Second in importance were the maternal grandfather's (mother's father's) clan, and the paternal grandfather's (father's father's) clan. In the mother's (own) clan as well as in the other three clans all females in the second ascending generation were called grandmothers. Reflective of the emphasis on matrilineality, Cherokee kinship terminology adhered to the basic Crow system (Gilbert 1955:289-298). Within the four clans with which each Cherokee had primary relations, men of the same generation called one another brother (unkilisi), but distinguished between older brother (unkinili) and younger brother (unkinutsi) thus emphasizing the importance of seniority in social relations. An important relationship also existed between clan brothers and sisters (see Reid 1970:39). Age was a key factor in determining one's place within the clan, and seniority status guaranteed a position of leadership and respect for both aged women and men. Among aged men, whose powers within the lineage and the household were subordinate to those of the aged matri­ archs, an important figure was the mother's brother. The maternal uncle (agidutzi) had an authority higher than the natural father; he had, for example, the privilege of naming his sister's children— a practice still observed by some Eastern Cherokees (Jackson 1975:282, and personal communication 1983; see also Reid 1970:38). As Gearing 65

(1962:40) pointed out, maternal uncles were typically one or two generations older than their nephews and they would often be of the age status beloved men. Stress on seniority, a positive social and cultural association with old age, and deferent behavior toward the clan (and lineage) elders were basic features of the aboriginal Cherokee kinship system. Gilbert (1955:294), following Lewie, pointed out that Cherokee kinship terminology can be classified as "bifurcate merging ... in that one half of the collateral relatives are merged with the lineal line." He also commented that as far as the second ascending generation is concerned "the grand­ parent generation alone is distinguished throughout as 'grandparent' wlule other generations are bisected by the lineage principle" (Gilbert 1955:294). Grandparents thus emerged in the kinship system as a generation cluster of clan fathers and clan mothers, a symbol of unity and a cohesive force that, from the point of view of a single Cherokee (and his or her siblings) linked directly four of the seven clans not only in the local town but also across the tribe as a whole. The terms of familiarity existing between the grandparent-grandchild generations (Gearing 1955:291) reflected both a factual and a structural aspect of the grandparent-grandchild relationship. The former, along with the maternal uncle, were in fact responsible for the 66 education and, the grandparents in particular, for the daily care of the young. Grandparents also served as advisors to the youth, and as 'structural channels' through which the exogamous, preferential marriage rules were enforced (Gilbert 1943:278-279, 1955:310-319). These rules emphasized preferential marriage restricted to maternal and paternal grandfather's lineages, and these grandparents served as intermediaries, both social­ ly and ritually, in the choice of a spouse (compare Reid 1970:46-48). By regulating and to some extent control­ ling marriages, the clan elders reinforced their leadership position within the lineages and the town as a whole. They monitored the movement of people between clans, and controlled the transfer of economic goods which accompanied marriages. The clan elders were given priority seating in the Council House where marriage ceremonies were performed in aboriginal times (Adair in Williams, S. 1928:148).

The Beloved Grandmothers Within each clan, a Cherokee household generally included several nuclear families all related through women. An aged matriarch was the highest authority with­ in the household; her husband had only limited powers, unlike her elder brother who, as we have seen, exercised considerable influence on the matriarch’s household 67

(Reid 1970:39-40). One or more daughters of the elderly couple and their husbands and children were also part of the household. At times, an adult male, a recently divorced or widowed son of the aged matriarch would also live in his mother household. More often, however, he would share the men's house that was traditionally located near the town Council House, on the village ceremonial square (Gilbert 1943:317). Within the domestic sphere of the extended matri- lineal households the beloved grandmothers directed and helped in the daily activities. The work of grandmothers, daughters and granddaughters if not as 'glamorous' as that of their male counterparts was nevertheless equally important for the life of the people. Gearing with insight and sensitivity thus commented on the role of women in traditional Cherokee life: The essentials of Cherokee life were bound up in [the] rhythms of female work. If an adequate description of Cherokee life is ever drawn, the most crucial task ... will be to depict those rhythms. To feed and care for the household, and to bring along the next generation, these seem to be the only human tasks necessary for survival, and for the Cherokees as for most human societies, these were done wholly by the women, (1962:2) For the women, domestic and village life went on relatively unaltered through the succession of the seasons. To the pressing demands of daily household tasks such as preparing food, making clothes, caring for the young and the sick, was added the responsibility of 68

tending the household garden, the seasonal work in the communal fields, and perodically the joy and pain of giving birth to new generations. Like younger women, the aged matriarchs too, though enjoying a high social status, had their day full of responsibilities and duties. It is perhaps symbolic of the work load carried by Cherokee women in their old age that the native term gilisi--which refers to both maternal and paternal grandmothers— literally means 'she bears on her back', as the beloved grandmothers used to relieve young mothers of the care of the young (Gilbert 1955:300). It is interesting to mention that the grandmothers' traditional way of carrying infants on their back wrapped in a shawl or blanket is a custom still in use today among younger Eastern Cherokee women. Aged women also helped pregnant and menstruating daughters by taking on the responsibilities and duties from which the latter were excluded, or relieved from, due to taboos associated with their condition. Similarly, four grandmothers, one from each of the four clans attended together with a medicine man a woman at parturition and soon thereafter. Carolyn Niethammer in her book Daughters of the Earth; The Life and Legends of American Indian Women (1977) summarized the position of old Indian women as follows: 69

Old age was equated with wisdom in many tribes women gained power as they became older; since they had passed menopause, they were relieved of the taboos; ... an elderly woman was 'just like a man'. Her opinion carried weight in ... tribal issues and she was consulted regarding herbal medicine, sacred matters, and tribal history. Older women commonly babysat, freeing young mothers from maternal duties so that they could work in the fields, Grandmothers not only provided physical care for the little ones, but also instilled in them the traditional values ... of the [tribal] society. (1977:249-250). The beloved grandmothers of the Cherokees shared the above characteristics: 'just like the beloved men' they could sit and deliberate.on the town council and, through their authority within the seven clans, they influenced most tribal matters. During early contacts with French and British colonial authorities, Cherokee negotiators were surprised by the absence of women among their white counterparts: The Little Carpenter [Attakullaculla, 1700-1780], while attending a council in Charles Town [in 1753], had underscored the political equality of Cherokee women when he asked the startled Carolinians why they were all males. It was the custom among Indians to admit women to their councils, he told Governor Lyttelton .... It took Lyttelton two or three days to come up with the rather lame answer that "The White Men do place a Confidence in their Women and Share their Counsels with them when they know their Hearts to be good. (Cited in Reid 1970:69) Married men were expected to show deference and possibly avoid direct interaction with aged women of their wife's clan. If a man neglected his wife and children, the offended wife and her female relatives led by her clan's 70 beloved grandmothers could resort to public whipping of the negligent husband (Gearing 1962:21), The man's relatives could not interfere and his clan was expected to compensate the wife's clan for the neglect. Each clan's beloved grandmothers ensured that exogamous rules be respected. They administered severe penalties, and even death, to those found guilty of violating the 'incest' taboo (Reid 1970:41-42), More complex cases were brought before the town council of elders for arbitration (Adair 1775:114, passim). Such public display of authority was symbolic of the powers of aged women in clan and town life. Often the beloved grandmothers spoke in the council where they could veto a declaration of war; they also had final voice in determining the fate of war prisoners and hostages (Starr 1921:87). Some exceptional women could also choose to join the warrior ranks. These so-called 'war women' (see Bertram 1853:32) were highly respected and in their old age played a central role in the town and national councils (Timberlake cited in Williams, S. 1928:93-94) . One prominent war woman was Nancy Ward, known as the 'last beloved woman of the Cherokees' [McClary 1962), who exercised considerable influence on tribal politics during the latter part of the eighteenth century (Reid 1970:69) . Apparently she was also a prophetess. According to a 71

story "in her delirium before death she cried out against the 'Trail of Tears' which would become a reality four­ teen years later" (McClary 1962;364). More pervasive than the power and prestige of a few outstanding war women was the economic power of women in general and the clan matriarchs in particular. In his analysis of aboriginal Cherokee jurisprudence, Reid pointed out that: Based on ... the practice of matrilocal residence, and the fact that women exercised the domain by providing most of the labor and by [controlling] the product, we may conclude that both house and field were 'owned' by the women, with ... a tendency toward matrilinear succession .... Separate-property rights of married women . .,[were] an absolute rule ... providing nineteenth century American courts with a rare lesson in comparative jurisprudence and American legislatures with a model for the emancipation of white married women. (1970:140) Elsewhere the same author stated that: The equal status of Cherokee women is worth our attention, if for no other reason than the contrast it offers between Cherokee primitive [sic] law and the law of eighteenth century Europe. The point is best illustrated by noting that Cherokee married women [owned] property over which their husbands had no control, and that most European married women did not. (Reid 1970: 123) On a general note, Bertram's eyewitness account is very revealing: [TheCherokees] are polite and courteous to the women .... An Indian never attempts, nay, he cannot use towards a woman ... any indelicacy or indecency, either in action or language. I never saw or herad of an instance of an Indian 72

beating his wife or other female, or reproving them in anger or in harsh language. (1853:31) In addition, with age Cherokee women acquired prestige and status as beloved grandmothers of the clans. As the matrilineal clans acted as a corporate production unit, the beloved grandmothers held 'ownership' rights to the clan fields, decided the allocation of parcels of land to individual households, and monitored the clan's agri­ cultural activities. Despite the fragmentary information available on this aspect of aboriginal Cherokee economic organization, we can safely assume that the authority and prestige of the Cherokee matriarchs was similar to that of the matrons among their distant kinsmen to the north, the Iroquois. In both tribes, the status and power of aged women, and of women in general seems to have been directly tied to the agricultural economy in which women played a major role. As Judith Brown pointed out: [The clan matriarchs] controlled ... food for meetings, war parties ... religious festivals ... and for daily meals of the household. These economic realities were institutionalized in the matrons' power to nominate council elders and to influence council decisions. (1970:164) It appears that this was also true for the Cherokees (see Adair 1775; Bartram 1853; Lewis and Kneberg 195 8). Older Cherokee women were also recognized to possess strong 'conjuring' powers which included experience in the use of the native pharmacopeia and knowledge of ritual formulas, love incantations and the like. In a society 73

like the Cherokees where the supernatural, broadly defined, greatly affected the life of the People, aged women were often sought as midwives, curers, and advisors in personal matters concerning health, love, marriage, success in hunting and war. The traditional roles and functions of elderly women were institutionalized in the active participation of the clan matriarchs in the rituals that punctuated the Cherokee ceremonial cycle (see Lewis and Kneberg 1958; I discuss this aspect in detail in the section on The Aged and the Ceremonial Complex). It is important to emphasize that old age added prestige to womanhood which was, by itself, a respected condition among the traditional Cherokees, In retrospect, it appears that the central place of the beloved grand­ mothers in tribal life was tied to the survival of the clans as socio-economic aggregates with matrilineal inheritance, as communal production units, and as centers of ritual activity. In the late-eighteenth century, however, continued warfare, dispossession, and widespread intermarriage triggered the gradual demise of the matrilineal clans, and a shift from communal and clan based agriculture to individually owned estates controlled by an emerging class of mixed-blood males, or whites married to Cherokee women. 74

These whites introduced new concepts of property and redefined the place of their Cherokee wives within the family and society. White husbands owned property rights to the land, and patrilineal inheritance eventually substituted for matrilineal descent, As Halliburton (1977:6) indicated "[whites] who married Cherokee women amassed property, ... purchased black slaves and left them and other properties as an inheritance to their half- Cherokee children." The lalwr of black slaves soon replaced the native work brigades; communal fields were abandoned or divided up into individually owned lots; and the clan gardens disappeared, thus affecting the roles and functions of the beloved grandmothers. Despite the resistance of the traditional core of the Nation (see McLoughlin 1984:213-238), more and more Cherokees, particularly the mixed-bloods, "deserted the [towns] and began farming on their own. The ancient custom of communalism [eroded] and slowly evolved into an individualism which gave impetus to the [use] of black slavery" (Halliburton 1977:11). Traders and missionaries not only brought technological change among the Cherokees, but also the western, and Christian, notion of the subordinate status of women and wives. White husbands, for example, did not recognize, much less submit to, the authority of their Cherokee wives' clan matriarchs. Indeed, they "seldom acknowledged any clan responsibili- 75

ties or connections...[nor did they] allow their wives' brothers to discipline the children and if they separated from their wives, they did not acknowledge the wife's rights to the house, farmed property, or children" (McLoughlin 1984:25-26). Eighteenth century missionaries among the Cherokees endorsed the father's rights and privileges and contri­ buted to the demise of the traditional status of the beloved grandmothers and Cherokee women in general: The Cherokee wife [had] to give up working together with other women in the common field or nearby households of their clan; [instead] they would be alone in their log cabin.... In time of need there would be no [clansmen] near to help. Loneliness [made] the drudgery harder. The sense of community and extended family diminish[ed]. The missionaries came to offer the Cherokees a new set of beliefs and values to fit this new way of life, one based on enlightened self-interest,...and competitive individualism, (McLoughlin 1984:18) These changes altered the gérontocratie structure of aboriginal Cherokee society. Before analyzing how the beloved men were affected by, and reacted to, the forces of acculturation and change, I will discuss the place the beloved men occupied in traditional Cherokee tribal life.

The Beloved Men In the public sphere of the town council, the management of village-wide political and socio-economic activities, and the ceremonial cycle, Cherokee men found their place according to the dichotomies of aboriginal 76

tribal life: sex delegated women primarily to the domestic sphere and men to the public arena (Hudson 1976: 260}. Generation and age specified one's position in the village structure (Gearing 1962:12), and clan membership sorted out primary and secondary relations and cleavages (Reid 1970: 35-48). Still, at the town and tribal level the People were bound together by common identity and traditions, cross-cutting clan ties, and by a common strategy for survival that centered around and greatly depended on the ancient patterns of communal subsistence agriculture. The management of the agricultural activities was entrusted to the town elders who also directed the festi­ vals and ceremonies associated with the agricultural cycle. Hunting, fishing, and collecting were also an integral part of aboriginal Cherokee subsistence, but agriculture was the most important economically, socially and ceremonially. Economic activities centered around the seasonal agricultural cycle which for the ancient Cherokees began with the first moon in the fall. This marked the new year and it was celebrated with cere­ monies, dances, and rituals of renewal led by the beloved men and clan matriarchs. Then, agricultural and garden­ ing activities began regularly in late winter. Employing slash-and-burn techniques, the People secured vast tracts of land for planting corn, their main 77

crop, and a variety of other agricultural products (Adair 1775:439). The agricultural efforts were directed toward small household gardens and large communal fields. The former, clan owned plots were controlled by the aged matriarchs of the clans who allocated their use to the various extended matrilineal households based on their size and need. Activities in the large communal fields, on the other hand, were regulated by the town council of beloved men (Gearing 1962). The village elders periodically recruited adult men and women for the seasonal tas)cs of cleaning, tilling, planting, and harvesting the communal fields from which came most of the town's agricultural resources (Bartram 1853:47-50; see also Goodwin 1977), The communal lands, at times located at some distance from the settlement, were known as outer fields ; they were worked communally by the townspeople organized in (clan based ?) work brigades under the direction of overseers appointed by the beloved men. Bartram gave the following description of Cherokee communal agriculture: In the spring, the ground being already prepared... early in the morning, the whole town is summoned by the sound of a conch shell...to meet at the public square...from thence the people proceed to their plantation, where they begin to plant, not everyone in his own little district...but the whole community united. (1791:400) The same communal effort took place at harvest time in late summer. An important aspect of Cherokee communal 78

agriculture, which in part accounts for the position of leadership and prestige of the beloved men, was the 'law' of redistribution and reciprocity regulating it. The fruits of the communal harvest were in fact in part immediately distributed to the townspeople and in part stored in a common granary whose access was controlled by the town elders. As Bartram indicated: Previous to their carrying off their crops from the fields, there is a large crib or granary...to [which] each family carries and deposits a certain quantity ...; this appearance seems a tribute to the mico [town's chief]Î but in fact is designed for another purpose, that of a public treasury.to which every citizen has the right of free and equal access, when his own private stores are consumed; to serve as a surplus to fly to for soccour; to assist neighboring towns, whose crops may have failed. (1791:401) Such communal practices served a number of comple­ mentary economic, socio-political and ideological functions. From an economic perspective, the abundant harvest of the communal fields motivated the mobilization of a large labor force which could in turn produce an often considerable surplus. Such a surplus remained under the indirect control of the townspeople who invested their clan elders, assembled as the council of beloved men, with the authority to regulate and arbitrate access to the communal storage. Since the town's gerontocracy included both priests, clan elders, and beloved grandmothers under the leadership of a clan-less town chief, all lineages of the seven clans were 79

represented on the town council. As a result the danger of sectarian monopoly on the labor force and the communal storage was neutralized. The system must have been a rewarding and balanced one for the People as a whole, since it appears that no direct, overt coercion was needed to induce them to work in the communal fields. In the case of the aboriginal Cherokee town, that on the average numbered about 350 people (compare Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:90; Reid 1970: 29) , the relatively small size of each settlement probably accounted in part for its egalitarian socio­ economic structure; redistribution and reciprocity further promoted economic equality. The absence of overt coercive rule surprised European observers, as indicated in the following comment made in 1757 by Raymond Demere, a colonial militia captain; "[The Cherokees] are an odd Kind of People; as there is no Law nor Subjection amongst them, they can't be compelled to do any Thing mor oblige them to embrace any Party except they please" (cited in Reid 19 70:53) . The same observer informed his superiors at Fort Loudon in Tennessee that "what is called great and leading Men amongst them, are commonly old and middle- aged People" (cited in Reid 1970: 53) who governed by persuasion rather than force. Adair noted that the beloved men "can only persuade or dissuade the people, either by the force of good-nature 80 and clear reasoning, or colouring things, so as to suit their prevailing passions. It is merit alone that gives them any titles of distinction above [the rest]of the people" [Adair 1775:460). The town elders thus used good example and the power of social norms rather than coercion in administering the town, as John H. Payne also commented that among the Cherokees "it is by.politeness alone...that the chiefs bind the hearts of their [people]" (cited in Gearing 1962:39). The Cherokees had institutionalized a system of consensus and communality guided by the elders of the seven clans assembled in council. The aboriginal government of the Cherokee town was gérontocratie and paternalistic (Bartram 1853:41). The People recognized and accepted the managerial and leadership roles and functions of the beloved men and beloved grandmothers within their respective domains (Reid 19 70:50-53, passim). Delegating economic, political and ceremonial leadership functions to the aged reflected the cyclical world view of the traditional Cherokees. Within the recurring cycles of aboriginal tribal life, today's elders had been yesterday's adults and youth. They had worked like many before them in the household gardens and the communal fields had now taken the place of those who had led and governed them in their youth. 81

The cycles of life were thus perpetuated, underlined by the social customs and ethical codes that emphasized communality and cooperation, sharing and conformity, and deference to the authority of the beloved men and clan matriarchs, a status and position of prestige all could eventually achieve with age. It was within such a context, of a tribal society intent on screening the inevitable varieties of human behavior and perpetuating an harmonious way of life that, within each passing generation, the aged were respected and honored for their contribution to society and because they represented the embodiment of tribal ideals (Bartram 1853:21-25; Reid 1970:50-51). One such ideal, which the elders stressed both in their teachings and through their personal example, was the ethic of harmony as a guiding principle in human relations (Bartram 1791:313; Reid 1970:236-242). In the aboriginal world of the Cherokees, harmony was a requisite for the proper functioning of society. In daily town life, confrontations were to be avoided horizontally between individuals, households, clans, and within the dual political hierarchy of the White and Red councils. Vertically, conflict avoidance was sought along generational lines between junior, senior, and elderly clan members, younger and older siblings, junior and senior warriors. 82

Such an emphasis on harmony and cooperation was needed to insure the continuity of communal agriculture and the sharing of surplus products. Yet, the great value older tribal members, indeed society as a whole, placed on harmony must have been burdensome to younger generations. They found in the hunt, war parties, and the aboriginal ball game ways to express those aggressive attitudes and behaviors considered antithetical to the tribal ethos. Such activities were therefore regulated by rites of purification performed by the senior priests and medicine men, particularly as far as war and the ball game were concerned (see Mooney 1890). Thus, the temporary disruption of the harmonious order of the town was a means by which human aggression could be released and directed away from the social fabric, and kept under ceremonial control. Where individual behavior did not adhere to the precepts of conflict avoidance, of ritual purification, and of submission to the elders, ostracism kept deviants outside the social web of the town (Reid 1970:241-244). In everyday life, non-aggressive behavior was rewarded by the elders’ approval as the beloved men and beloved grandmothers called for harmony in interpersonal and group relations. Importantly, harmony also implied respect, deference toward and care of the aged in the household, the clan, and the village at large. 83

The White and Red Gérontocratie Councils Strict patterns of familiarity and avoidance were expected between younger and older generations of lineal and collateral kinsmen; with the town elders, however, deferent behavior was to be observed. Whatever structure a Cherokee town assumed in the course of the year (Gearing 1962), submission to seniority and respect for old age characterized the unfolding of Cherokee aboriginal life. A deferent attitude toward the aged was reflected in the traditional equation "old equal good equal honor" (Gearing 1962:60) underlining intergenerational relations in all aspects of town and tribal life. For their part the elders, more than any other segment of society, paid careful attention to the behavioral patterns expected of a good Cherokee: the beloved men and the beloved grand­ mothers were looked upon as the living symbols of the harmony ethic. Being largely responsible for the educa­ tion and enculturation of the young, the aged played a major role in the 'hammering' of the harmony ethic and the seniority principle making the theory and praxis "concerning the status of old men and women and the deference due them virtually unanimous" (Gearing 1962:60) . Another important aspect of the harmony ethic directly linked to the role and function of the beloved men in the political organization of the town was a dual 84 view of the world (see Mooney 1900a) . Aboriginal Cherokee world view distinguished between two general kinds of actions, forces, behaviors, and overall ways of going through life (Hudson 1976:260, passim). One, considered the Cherokee ideal, emphasized harmonious relations, observance of the ritual and ceremonial cycle, submission and deference to the elders, altruism and restrained behavior (see Hudson 1976:120-183). The other, in substantial antithesis to the former, acknowledged the inevitable disruption of the harmonious order that was often caused by that inherent human drive toward asser­ tiveness, aggression, and rebellion to authority (see Reid 1970:63-71, passim). While such forces were ethically condemned, their control was sought by incorporating them in the social and political organiza­ tion within specific structural limits and ritual processes of purification. Generally speaking, agricultural activities and the related ceremonial cycle, the meetings of the town council in times of peace, marriage ceremonies and domestic activities, and most curing rituals were considered within the so-called White path of life. On the other hand, war councils and war expeditions, hunting, the ball game, and the conjuring rituals associated with such activities were part of the Red path of life, regarded as potentially dangerous. 85

In order to provide a structural distinction between the two general categories of White and Red activities, and maintain che latter under social and ritual control, the White and Red conceptual dichotomy was institution­ alized into two structural channels, or ways of going through life, both under the control of the beloved men. At the head of the White and Red paths were the elders assembled in town council. This council was internally 'divided* into the White and Red organizations, the names being symbolic and referring to the color of the standard raised on the town's council house in time of peace and war respectively (see Reid 1970: 20 on the Red-White dichotomy} . This dual, complementary structure of the aboriginal Cherokee town government was not, as often suggested, a moiety system similar to that of other southeastern tribes, particularly the Creek (compare Swanton 1946:663- 667; Reid 1970:19-21), but rather a bicameral political organization whose activities often depended on larger events affecting the life of the town and the tribe. Although the Cherokees, like other southeastern tribes, had certain towns that never raised the Red standard (Mooney 1900a:207)— so-called mother towns or towns of refuge— the Red-White dualism did not depend on clan membership nor on other social specifications to cause a permanent dual division of town or tribal population. 86

Choice based on individual inclination and person­ ality would eventually lead one into following more actively one or the other way of going through life. Yet, the circumstantial nature of the Red activities, social pressure, and the suspicion with which, traditionally, very assertive and aggressive individuals were looked upon by the community probably deterred the People from abandoning the White path except temporarily for the activities mentioned above. Some men and occasionally women, however, found Red activities more congenial to their personality and chose to follow the Red path. These individuals would eventually join the ranks of the war leaders, war priests and surgeons, and scouts, and upon reaching old age, they would sit as beloved men in the restricted Red council of the village government (Bertram 1853:32-33). The town council was perhaps the most visible expression of the central role played by the aged in aboriginal Cherokee society. As individuals and as the body of elders, the aged were looked upon as a source for and example of the maintenance and application of the fundamental principles of harmony underlying tribal ethic and social behavior. That the beloved men were able to govern the'People and to control the Red organization without the use of (overt) coercion further proved the point (see Reid 1970:30-31, 63-64). 87

Except when the Red hierarchy took charge, the beloved men exercised their governing functions based on "voluntary consensus which was created through the influence of the old men in their respective clan, all under the leadership of the village chief who was...the symbol of the village harmony” (Gearing 1962:129), Known as the White Chief, or Uku, the town chief was selected from the beloved men for his "wisdom, integrity and ability as a leader" (Lewis and Kneberg 1958:164); he was the highest civil and religious authority in the town. Early travelers and colonial administrators equated the Uku "with the European notion of king" (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:91), although the historical record indi­ cates that while utmost deference was due to him, it was through the example of personal conduct, persuasion and circumspection that the Chief and the beloved men exercised their leadership (Reid 1970:49-52, passim). The White Chief was assisted by a small body of advisors, an inner circle of beloved men which included: the Right-Hand-Man, or Vice-Chief; the Speaker, who was appointed on the basis of his oratorical abilities; the Keeper of the Council House, who was responsible for the orderly maintenance of the town house and the care of the sacred fire; and the Messenger, a beloved man who served as ambassador to the White Chiefs of the neighboring towns (Sharpe 1970:18; Reid 1970:49-50). These officials. 88

referred to as the town grandfathers, must have felt the pressure from the seven matrllineal clans. The clans, as corporate units, were likely to pursue their sectarian interests particularly in regard to the access and management of the available agricultural lands. In order to minimize partisan politics with respect to the clans, the Chief and his advisors had abrogated their clan 'membership', thus becoming a clan-less gerontocracy. Clan cleavages ran deep among the People (Reid 1970: 35-48}, and the clans had to have their voice equally heard in the town government. To prevent an overpowering presence of certain clans in the town council, due to sheer number of members, seven beloved men were appointed by their respective clans as their representatives. These beloved men formed the second group of elders within the White organization. Between the Chief, his inner council, the seven clan representatives and, occasionally, one or more beloved or honored grandmothers, the white council probably numbered about fifteen. These beloved men had been known throughout life as "patient, restrained, and sensitive to the sentiments...of those around them. These men epitomized the good man, the Cherokee ideal; they enjoyed unmixed respect and were, indeed, called the 'most beloved men'" (Gearing 1916:130). All other men of age status beloved man, although they did not hold specific titles, participated also in 89

the council meetings and their voice was equally weighed by the Chief, his advisors, and the clan spokesmen. The elders were indeed the government of the People, and their central place in the life of the town was symbolized by the central location of the aboriginal heptagonal council house located in the heart of the settlement, adjacent to the large ceremonial square (Bartram 1853:34- 36J. Their gérontocratie rule was one of "benevolent paternalism. Decisions were generally unanimous, and direct coercion or overactive leadership were strongly devalued" (Fogelson and Kutsche 19 61:92), The Cherokee ideal of circumspect governance appears to have found a positive application in the real world: Henry Timberlake, for example, noted that the Cherokee leadership was "fond of speaking well, as that paves the way to power in their councils" (cited in William, S, 1928:80). The restraint of the elders was so pervasive that rarely a beloved man "[would] turn his eyes to other elders whom he addresses" (Gearing 1962:41), Tribal ethics, social pressure, 'native politeness', and the elders' control over the economic, political, and ceremonial spheres gave the beloved men (and the clan matriarchs) the power to implement council decisions. As Gearing pointed out "deference to old men [and women] was recommended in the households, in the clans, and...during council" (1962:59). How did, however, young men react to 90 the limitations imposed by the harmony ethic and the paternalistic rule of the beloved men? According to the available records (see Adair 1775; Bartram 1791, 1853; Haywood 1823) general compliance and submission to the elders characterized local town and tribal life. Such a compliance would probably not have been possible without some alternative ways to release aggressive tendencies: the Red path of life provided such an avenue, and it was controlled by the Red council. The Red organization was a subordinate complementary structure within the town council. While ethically an antithesis to the tenets of the White council, the Red organization structurally mirrored the White heriarchy. The Red council, in fact, consisted of beloved men and occasionally women who had chosen to follow the Red path, had shown leadership skills and courage in war, but also restraint to ensure the welfare of their warriors in dangerous situations (Gearing 1962:47-54). The elders of the Red organization generally remained undifferentiated among the town's beloved men until the White council, after deciding on war or trading expeditions, entrusted the Red officials with specific governing functions. In the case of a sudden attack on the town, the Red council automatically separated itself as a distinct structure; it took full charge of the situation, and raised the red standard on the council 91

house. Warriors rallied around the war leaders while women, children and the aged sought shelter (Gearing 1962: 27; see also Reid 1970:173-215 on Cherokee warfare). The Red council was headed by a head warrior of age status beloved man. He was known as Kalanu (or Golanu) , meaning the Raven, in honor of the bird that for the Cherokees symbolized war. In fact, the War chief's insignia were raven's skin which hung around his neck, and red-painted weapons, red being the color of blood and war. As Lewis and Kneberg pointed out, "although the chief warrior had to be courageous... [he had taken] an oath never to go to war without just cause and never to shed the blood of infants, women, [and] old men" (19 58; 164-165). The Raven was aided by other prominent senior warriors of age status beloved man, the War Priest, the Speaker of War, the War Surgeon (a medicine man who had acquired expertise in treating war wounds), and by younger war leaders with titles such as Great Warrior, Mankiller, Slave-catcher, and Wolf, Fox and Owl (these being the titles of war scouts; see Reid 1970:176). In addition to these officials. Gearing (1962:26) suggests the presence of "a seven-man council for war, one prominent warrior from each clan." The Red organization remained in charge for the duration of the hostilities. Return to normality under the White council was marked 92 by rituals of purification. Sweat bathing, followed by immersion in the river washed away pollution from blood (see Mooney 1900b); fasting cleansed one's thoughts from the violence of war; the white standard was again raised on the council house. Once again, the elders of the Red organization returned to be undifferentiated among the beloved men (Gearing 1962:48-50). Prior to the mid-1700s, there are no explicit reports of an overt power struggle between the white council and the war leaders. Yet, it seems likely that the beloved men of the White organization looked with apprehension on the prolonged rule and even the presence of higher war officials in the town. Interestingly, whenever possible, war leaders were detailed to dealing with the outside world and sent on treaty and trading missions away from the town. This is one reason why only the names of war chiefs are generally reported in early European documents of treaty and trade agreements (Rothrock 1929:3-18; see Reid 1970:201-215 on Cherokee diplomacy). Developments connected with the advancing white frontier and the colonial power struggle in the Southeast eventually strengthened the importance of the Red leadership, and rendered the traditional order of the white council incapable of dealing with the new situation caused by the coming of the white man (see my discussion 93

below, and McLoughlln 1984; Reid 1970; Gearing 1962). The dialectical interplay of traditional ideology, socio-economic powers, political and economic leadership gave formal recognition to the central place of the aged as beloved men and beloved grandmothers in tribal life. This positive position of the aged does not appear to have Leen a peculiar prerogative of Cherokee culture and society, but was common among many American Indian tribes. As Leo Simmons summarized in his seminal study, the tendency for old men to continue the chieftain­ ship appeared clearly in a statistical analysis relating to the existence of the office of chief and the percentage of tribes in which the aged men and women held such offices. Thus we may conclude that in primitive [sic] societies the recognition of...old men as chiefs or headmen has been as widespread as the office of the chieftain itself. Indeed...[it is likely] that the office grew in part out of the leadership and domination of old men who were regarded as 'chiefs' even before there was a formalized office. (1945:112) The aboriginal structure of Cherokee society supports Simmons* (1945) conclusion on the nature and character of gérontocratie leadership. Similarly, another point should be made; as Simmons emphasized, "it [has been] among agricultural tribes that the aged have had the very best chance of retaining office into late senescence" (1945: 113). The agricultural, communal base of aboriginal Cherokee subsistence provided the aged with the ecological economic, and normative 'grounds' on which to build and maintain their position of leadership. 94

By acting as regulators and arbitrators of social, political, and economic processes they constantly reaffirmed the 'goodness' of gérontocratie rule. By behaving according to the tenets of the harmony ethic the beloved men and grandmothers proved the validity and appropriateness of their central place in the life of the People; and, by controlling the ceremonial cycle, the aged sanctioned the 'sacred' nature of their rule.

The Aged and the Ceremonial Complex The knowledge Cherokee elders had of religious ceremonies, medico-magical rituals, and curing (or con­ juring) practices was equated with power and wisdom and was in a sense 'feared' by younger generations. Like other tribal societies, among the Cherokees the aged were needed by the family, the clan and the tribe in a variety of situations: Exorcizing spirits, working charms, controlling the weather, conjuring enemies, and predicting the future.... [T]he aged...functioned...as leaders of [religious and] social gatherings, and directors of games, songs, dances, and festivals. In fact, hardly any of the great and critical occasions of life have not been presided over and supervised by...aged men and women. Truly have they been...custodians of knowledge, and directors of ceremonies and pastimes. (Simmons 1945:176) To paraphrase Gearing (1962) we may say that in aboriginal Cherokee society the cultural equation 'old equals know­ ledge - equals wisdom - equals good - equals power* found 95 its full expression. In addition to their medico-magical involvement in events such as birth, naming, marriage, menses, sickness and disease, and death (see Mooney and olbrechts 1932), the aged were also responsible for the seven major ceremonies and festivals that marked the traditional Cherokee ceremonial cycle. The old Cherokee year "was punctuated by six festivals symbolizing the...essential phases of Cherokee life" (Speck and Broom 1951:7) . A seventh celebration took place every seventh year, seven being the sacred number for the Cherokees. These major ceremonies were celebrated in each of the seven local mother towns, ceremonial centers that served the settlements of a certain region. Prior to the changes that occurred in the mid-eight­ eenth century (see my discussion below, and Reid 19 70:17- 27), every spring the Cherokees held the first of their annual festivals. It was known historically as the First Moon of Spring Ceremony, and it celebrated Nature's awakening, the sweet new grass and leaves, and planting season. The beloved men of the mother towns called upon the elders of the neighboring settlements into council to plan the ceremony; this and similar reunions were held in the large heptagonal council house large enough to be able to hold 500 people (Gilbert 1943:317). 96

At the council, which was held "early in March during the dark moon, seven elder women, honored [grandmothers] of their respective clans performed the Friendship Dance. Then, ... the date of the ceremony [was announced]" {Lewis and Kneberg 1958:177). The Chief of the mother town and the beloved men in council gazed at the sacred quartz crystals used on ritual and propitiatory occasions to foresee the future; in this particular case, the outcome of the crops. Hundreds of people converged to the mother town for the celebration that lasted seven days during which much feasting, visiting and dancing took place. Clan ties across towns were renewed; pledges of reciprocal help in case of crop failure were exchanged; and the elders led the People in prayer for a new bountiful season. Ceremonial activities ended with the ritual relight­ ing of the sacred fire kept in the council house of the mother town. From the newly kindled sacred fire, the seven clan matriarchs of the local towns "were given glowing coals to relight their hearth fires" (Lewis and Kneberg 1958:180). For the People, gogi, the summer half of the year, the new season of agricultural activities had begun. Then on a given day, the elders of each town led their people in procession to the outer fields where communal agriculture took place. 97

In mid to late summer, when the "new green corn first became fit to taste" (Speck and Broom 1951:7), the Cherokees celebrated their second annual festival, the Green Corn Ceremony (Selutsunigistiti; see Sharpe 1970: 21), Again, the Chief of the mother town summoned the beloved men in council and the beloved matriarchs performed ritual dances (see Speck and Broom 1951:45-54). The People again gathered in the ceremonial center bringing ears of corn from which seven were selected for ritual purposes. Seven beloved men and the high priest observed a period of fasting. Once more the sacred fire was extinguished and rekindled with seven kinds of wood. Kernels from the chosen ears of corn, to propitate the crops, deer's tongue, to propitiate the hunt, and tobacco, the ritual mediator, were offered to Yowa, the supreme power of the Cherokees (Sharpe 1970:20; Speck and Broom 1951:54), About five to six weeks later, the Ripe Corn Ceremony (Donaqohuni; see Sharpe 1970:21) took place. It was a harvest festival celebrating the maturing of the corn. According to Lewis and Kneberg, since this festival "lacked many of the religious features of other ceremon­ ies, conflict was less between it and the ... Christian religion which the Cherokees began to adopt during the eighteenth century" (1958:180-181; see also McLoughlin 1984) . Dancing and feasting, but also blowgun and 98

archery contests, foot races, and the ball game accom­ panied this celebration. Unlike other aboriginal Cherokee ceremonies, the main harvest theme and some of the social dances and sporting activities associated with the Ripe Corn festi­ val have survived today in the Annual Cherokee Fall Festival that takes place the first week in October on the Eastern Cherokee Reservation: Many of the elder Cherokees still living on the Qualla Reservation ... remember the modified version of this ceremony in which they took part during their youth. Even today, the Cherokee Indian Fair ... echoes the ancient harvest ... festival of the ripe corn. (Lewis and Kneberg 1958:181) Interestingly, as the aboriginal celebration marked the end of the agricultural cycle, today the Cherokee Fall Festival marks the closing of the tourist season which, like the old agricultural activities of their ancestors, has become the main source of livelihood for the modern Eastern Cherokees. The winter half of the Cherokee year, gola, began with the first moon of autumn. It was a time full of religious meaning and magical power, and it was cele­ brated with the Great New Moon Ceremony (Nuwatigewa, the name literally meaning big medicine; Sharpe 1970:21). The beloved men made their usual ritual preparations. From their respective towns people brought large 99

quantities of agricultural products to be distributed to those whose crops had yielded less or failed. The high priest and the beloved men aided by the clan matriarchs oversaw the distribution of the gifts which strengthened ties between towns. Religious dances, ritual bathing in the river, whose waters were particularly full of medicinal and magical powers from the fallen leaves, sweat-bathing, and quartz-crystal gazing were performed. The 'big medicine' ceremony was purificatory and propitiatory, and preceded by about ten days the fifth annual festival. The Atohuna (lit. friends made), or Friendship Ceremony was a climax for the expression of the prin­ ciples of harmony. The high priest, seven beloved men and seven clan matriarchs fasted in the council house while the ceremonial ground was prepared for the new ritual activities. To the themes of solidarity, redistribution and reciprocity of the 'big medicine' ceremony, the Atohuna underscored reconciliation, and conflict avoidance. The beloved men led the People in rituals of purification and prayer. Purification was stressed because, as Speck and Broom (1951;99) noted "reconciliation was the keynote and even [blood] revenge may be abrogated." Atohuna was also a festive and good- humored time, during which the Friendship Dance was performed. This dance served not only as an occasion for 100 reconciliation, but also as a truly recreational event during which much joking, teasing and temporary breaking of taboos were allowed (see Gilbert 1955:323), The sixth of the great annual ceremonies was known as the Exulting or Bounding Bush Festival (Elawatalegi; Sharpe 1970:21). Little is known about this ceremony which "featured dancing and feasting.... Symbolic sacrifice appears to have been the theme ... but too few details have been preserved for its true meaning to be understood" (Lewis and Kneberg 1958:185). This festival completed the annual cycle. Between these major celebrations held in the mother towns, other dances, games, and social and ceremonial activities took place independently in the local towns under the direction of the beloved men and beloved grandmothers. The aboriginal Cherokee repertory of dances, songs, formulas and other ritual activities was particularly vast, varied and rich in content and context, and the aged played a major role in them both as ritual leaders, instructors and parti­ cipant performers (see Mooney 1891; Mooney and Olbrechts 19 32; Speck and Broom 1951; Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1965). Every seventh year, an additional major celebration took place in the mother towns. The magico-medical nature of the 'seven' symbolism— seven clans, heavens, cardinal directions, colors, and ritual woods; seven 101 beloved men, clan matriarchs, seven year cycle and festivals, heptagonal council house, etc.--all converged into the Thanksgiving Ceremony, known also as Uku Dance, so called from the leading role played by the mother town's Chief during the celebrations. The Uku Dance incorporated all the basic features of the other major ceremonies, and on the year it was performed it replaced the Great New Moon Ceremony of autumn. Purificatory rites and the change of the high priest's garments preceded the ritual dance at the climax of the celebration. After the beloved men of the local towns had assembled, young men lifted the chief from the throne and carried him to a ... marked circle in the center of the square. Within the sacred circle he began the Uku dance. Moving slowly, with great dignity.... Outside the circle the [beloved men] followed ,,. imitating his steps. When the dance was finished, he was again placed upon the white throne. (Lewis and Kneberg 1958:186-187) As a climax to the seven year cycle, the Uku Dance reaffirmed the principles of traditional Cherokee world view, social norms, and religious rituals; it stressed continuity through the ritual renewal of the géronto­ cratie leadership personified in the White Chief of the mother town, and showed public display of the submission of younger generations to the rule of the beloved men (see also Poster 1889:8-9) . 102

Living in harmonious order within the towns and the tribe, in balance with the environment and the mysterious forces of Nature, the Cherokees had affirmed themselves as a powerful tribe in the fertile valleys of the southern Appalachians (see Goodwin 1977) . Their geo­ graphical location, rich lands and economy, and military strength made them a key element in the aboriginal and later colonial power play in the Southeast (Ccrkran 1962; Gearing 1962; Crane 1928). In the eighteenth century this power play eventually led to an unprecedented and irreversible process of change in the organization of the tribe that for centuries had seen itself as the nation of Aniyunwia, the Principal People.

Cherokee Gerontocracy; Structural Change and Decline The aboriginal Cherokee tribe consisted of politi­ cally independent and economically autonomous towns linked together by common language, cross-cutting clan ties, a network of local ceremonialism and economic solidarity and, underlying this all, a common mythologi­ cal and historical identity (Reid 1970;17-33; Mooney 1900a). The coming of the white man triggered a process of adaptation and change that affected directly the old traditional gérontocratie structure of the tribe. During the initial stages of contact, the beloved men delegated, as was customary, the war leaders to 103 dealing with foreign powers now represented by the French and the British. The elders of the White councils hoped to maintain peaceful relations with the powerful Europeans; they also desired to keep them 'at a distance' entrusting the Red leaders with the responsibility of handling treaties, trade agreements, and international politics (Rothrock 1929; Corkran 1962). As trade goods poured into Cherokee country and foreign powers perpetrated their political and military schemes in the Southeast, the Cherokees became increasingly dependent on the role of war leaders as intermediaries with colonial authorities, both for the maintenance of military balance in the region and the acquisition of trade goods now avidly sought by the People, Europeans, however, pushed for agreements that would formally bind the whole tribe, and not just a few towns from which came Cherokee delegations, often acting independently from each other (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:92). Disease, warfare and white encroachment caused a reduction in the tribal population and its territory; the rapidly changing situation forced the Cherokees to look for a common tribal strategy toward the whites and the neighboring enemy tribes (Goodwin 1977; Corkran 1962). Structurally, the mother towns provided the catalyst for the centralization of the political and military power that was traditionally in the hands of the local 104 gerontocracies (see Reid 1970;29-33). The centralization of tribal politics and military operations was the first of a number of structural changes that affected the Cherokees in the mid and late eighteenth century. Actually, the gradual centralization from autonomous town councils of beloved men into the hands of a prominent tribal chief began as early as 1730. The aged Moytoy of the Overhill town of (Great) Tellico appears to have been one of the first Cherokee elders to hold tribal wide authority with the support of the beloved men of the larger towns (see Corkran 1962:15-16). Most likely, the beloved men accepted this change in an attempt to avoid factionalism, power struggles, and possibly to keep the war leaders in a subordinate position. Dark clouds accompanied the election of Moytoy to tribal chief. In 1738-39 a smallpox epidemic swept across the nation killing almost half of the population. The old medicine men, priests and war surgeons were helpless against the disease. Loss of prestige accom­ panied their frustration and shame for not being able to control the mysterious killer (Adair 1775:232), as the People, particularly the older and younger generations, fell victim to the pestilence. At Moytoy*s death in 1741, his son Amouskositte became tribal chief despite the opposition from other 10 5

White chiefs (Gearing 1962:86). Factional disputes increased, and the traditional tenets of harmony and restraint gave way to power struggles between and within towns (Corkran 1962:16-17, passim; Reid 1970). At the same time, increased warfare with neighboring tribes and the colonial powers led to repeated tribal mobilizations that boosted the importance and authority of the Red organization. Young warriors, frustrated and angered by the continued encroachment of whites and enemy Indians on tribal lands rallied around the war leaders who soon took ^ facto control of the leadership of the tribe (see Reid 1970:17-27). In 1751 the tribal chief Amouskosittee negotiated a peace and trade agreement with South Carolina; not surprisingly, eleven of the seventeen member delegation were "distinguished war leaders" (Gearing 1962:87), At the same time, an internal power struggle developed between the mother towns of Tellico, Hiwasse, Chota and Keowee, where local war leaders pushed for more power (Corkran 1962:20-30; see also Gearing 1962: 85-105}. The Cherokees had in a few eventful decades moved from a polycephalous tribal 'confederation' to a tribal 'state' under one single principal chief and from a gérontocratie White government to a national leadership of chiefs. As Gearing noted: 106

This [Red] structure for political work persisted because there were tasks to be fulfilled, new tasks demanded by a new Cherokee situation . . . for the first time in Cherokee history, it became a recurrent fact that ... all villages suffered by the actions of ... one village [and one leader] . (1962:87-88) Historical events and the People's hope that capable war leaders could deal with the pressing and ever shifting situation in the region strengthened a centralized governmental structure. The principles of the harmony ethic and the traditional white path were pushed aside under the unprecedented circumstances. The instability of the region was also reflected in the factionalism that characterized tribal politics until the mid-1750s when a prominent chief of the Overhill town of Chota (near modern Vanore, Tennessee) took power (Reid 1970:25-27; Corkran 1962:49), Old Hop attempted to bring the beloved men back into politics at the tribal level and for a few years his abilities as a leader prevailed over factional disputes and the powerful war leaders. His attempt to revitalize the White hierarchy gained Old Hop the recognition as the "great beloved wise man of the Nation" (Logan 1859:460), a title which reflected both the renewed importance of the beloved men of the White Council in tribal politics, and also the structural changes in terms of centralization of power under one paramount tribal chief (Reid 19 70:25; 107

Gearing 1962:88-89; Corkran 1962:50-65), On Old Hop's death, the seat of tribal chief was taken by Standing Turkey, of Chota (C< :kran 1962:163, 200-204, passim). This town began +■ emerge as the capital of the nation and each major town of the tribe sent its representatives to the natic. counr_± in Chota (see Reid 1970:17-27 on the ascendency aid fall of Chota). The death of Standing Turkey in 1763 marked also the end of the White council's revival. New encroachments of white settlers and enemy Indians, pressures from the English and the Americans gave reasons to the war leaders for retaliatory actions and in 1768 Oconostota (also known as Great Warrior), a prominent war chief "took over the political functions of the tribal priest chief" (Gearing 1962:100). The subordination of the Red hier­ archy was once again reversed. As Bartram (1853:25, passim) observed, the war chief and the senior warriors now sat in the national council at Chota as deliberators, not as subordinates to the White Chief. The following years (see Gearing 1962:102-103) the American Revolution brought much destruction to the Cherokees who had sided with the British (see Moore 1888). After the war the tribal territory was further reduced and the aboriginal structure of the towns began to deteriorate. As I indicated, a new generation of young, mixed-bloods soon began to emerge as key figures in the 108 economic and political.leadership of the tribe, while white missionaries and their Cherokee— again, mostly mixed-blood— converts ’attacked’ the tribal religion and its priests and medicine men (McLoughlin 1984). The bewildered traditional gerontocracy had become incapable of dealing with the rapid changes and with what appeared as the success of the mixed-bloods in leading the reconstruction of the nation after the Revolutionary War. Although the mixed-bloods stressed their identity and allegiance to an independent and sovereign Cherokee nation, the changes that accompanied their ascendance as a leading force in tribal affairs profoundly affected many traditional aspects of Cherokee culture and society. The beloved men became a marginal segment of the new national political organization; councils became secular; the traditional invocations that used to open each council meeting were abandoned; of the old annual ceremonies only the Green Corn festival survived. The socio-economic, political and, to some extent, cultural repercussions were unprecedented in the history of the People; as Gearing pointed out, "the young warriors were freed from restraint of the beloved men, ... the strong young governed the weak [old] ... villages were devoid of ceremony ... old men saw their government crumble” (1962:104). 109

Whatever the proponents of a lineal model of Cherokee acculturation may suggest, it appears that the contact history of the tribe is extremely complex both in terms of its socio-political and institutional adjvstment and change, and as far as psychological and cultural reorientation was concerned. For the first time in the recorded history of the tribe, intergener- ational relations became overtly competitive, the clans lost importance, and a new religion was embraced. As the old gerontocracy saw its power and prestige slip away, tribal factionalism emerged "along the lines of the age status cleavage" (Gearing 1962:103). The internal power struggle "pitted full-bloods, poorer Cherokees, non-slave holders and older people against English speaking, mixed-blood and wealthy Cherokees" (McLoughlin 1984-213) . The attempt made in 1827 by the traditional leader White Path and his full- blood, traditional supporters to reverse the acculture- tive policies of the Cherokee national council controlled by the mixed-bloods failed just on the eve of the removal crisis (see McLoughlin 1984:213-238). In the aftermath of the treaty of 1835, the Cherokee settlements of Western North Carolina found themselves in a unique and controversial position of a politically separate segment of the nation that 'agreed’ to move to Indian Territory, and yet a racially Indian 110 and ethnically Cherokee enclave outside the tribal territory ceded by the treaty (Harmon 1929). Although the Qualla Cherokees had already been granted limited rights of citizenship in North Carolina, they eventually "would have to endure uncertainty and anxiety as they watched the army round up their fellow Cherokees and deport them to the West" (Finger 1984:19). CHAPTER III

THE EASTERN BAND OP CHEROKEE INDIANS

The ’Grandfathers* of the Eastern Band In the mountains of western North Carolina a few settlements of the once powerful Kituhwa division of the tribe had succeeded in avoiding removal. The so-called Mountain Cherokees and a number of fugitives from the Cherokee Nation remained in the east and eventually formed the nucleus of what later became the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians (see Finger 1984), Residing in the valleys and coves of the Great Smokies, the Mountain Cherokees, smaller in number, had generally been left unmolested by local whites and state authorities. Unlike their kinsmen who had been removed to the west, the Cherokees living at the confluence of the Oconaluftee and Soco rivers and nearby areas had remained culturally conservative (Gulick 1958:248), had had fewer inter­ marriages with whites, and generally remained outside the process of socio-political and economic change undergone by the main segment of the tribe from which they had been separated since the early 1790s (see DeRosier 1975: 44-47; Malone 1952).

Ill 112

While in the west the removed Cherokees were rebuilding their national government after the American model, the Cherokees of Quallatown in North Carolina maintained the traditional heptagonal council house and a ceremonial square near Soco creek where the elders held their town meetings and conducted traditional ceremonies (see Gulick 1958). Following the removal crisis of 1838 and subsequent unsuccessful attempts of Washington in 1844-45 and 1850 to relocate them to Indian Territory, the Qualla Cherokees finally stabilized their legal residence in North Carolina thanks also to the efforts of William H. Thomas (1805-1893), a white businessman and lawyer, and an adopted member of the Quallatown Cherokees of Chief Yonaguska (see Russell 1956). Acting as their agent and legal representative, between 1843 and 1861 Thomas purchased some 50,000 acres of mountain land on behalf "of the Qualla Indians as a tribe ... on Soco Creek and Oconalufty River and their tributaries" (Royce 1887:193). Later by an Act of Congress in 1870 the North Carolina Cherokees acquired their present name, the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, As Mooney pointed out, the Mountain Cherokees, "the purest blooded and most conservative of the nation" (1900a:157), amounted to about one thousand in number and lived a traditional way of life in their settlements along the banks of the Tuckasagee, Little Tennessee and 113

Oconaluftee Rivers. Gulick (1958} suggested that they were probably organized in clan-based villages, prac­ ticed communal agriculture, and retained much of their traditional socio-cultural patterns. It is largely through the life histories of their aged leaders that the documented history of the Eastern Cherokees comes into focus. These historical figures are still popular among modern Eastern Cherokees who refer to them as 'the grandfathers of the Eastern Band’ because of the important roles they played in shaping their modern history. One of the aged leaders of the Mountain Cherokees to first appear in their chronicles is Yanegwa, or Big Bear (see McLoughlin 1984:84-96). He was a principal chief of the White council of a Kituhwa town and among the signers of the Treaty of 1798 held in the Cherokee National Council House near Tellico, in Tennessee. He later also accepted the so-called Ninth Treaty of 1819 by which Yanegwa was granted a 640 acre 'reservation' on the western bank of the Oconaluftee, not far from Bryson City in North Carolina. He remained there with his small band until his death. Another prominent leader was Tsunulahunski, better known as Junaluska. He was a war chief and a leader of the Red council. He participated on the side of the Americans in the war of 1812-1814 against the Creek led 114

by Red Eagle (William Weatherford) . At the Battle of the Great Horseshoe Bend on the Tallapoosa River, Junaluska distinguished himself by leading the Cherokee warriors to the rescue of Andrew Jackson's forces on the retreat before the Creek, It was somewhat a tragic irony that Junaluska saved Jackson from defeat; in fact, despite his action, the chief was later forced to move west in 1838. Like many other Cherokees however, Junaluska soon made his trek back to the beloved mountains of North Carolina. Eventually, in 1847, that state granted him permission to settle on a small reservation known as the Cheowe Indian settlement, near Robbinsville (Mooney 1900a:164). More directly connected with the Eastern Cherokees on the Qualla Tract, where the main concentration of Indians resided, is the figure of Yonaguska, or Drowning Bear (his English name being a misnomer) . Yonaguska was the chief of the White council of the Qualla Cherokees (see Russell 1956; Finger 1904). He had powerful oratory and a determination to preserve the old Cherokee ways. After the Treaty of 1819, by which the Mountain Cherokees lost their lands on the Tuckasagee River, Yonaguska settled with his band on Big Bear's reservation. On Yanegwa*s death, Yonaguska succeeded him in the leadership of the combined bands and soon thereafter moved his people north to Oconaluftee on the Qualla Tract. 115

The decision to move further up into the mountains was in part the likely result of his prophetic experience. At the age of sixty, the aged chief became severely ill. The illness eventually led him into a trance during which hit" people believed him dead. After he finally regained consciousness, Yonaguska assembled his people and announced that; He had been to the spirit world, where he had talked with friends who had gone before, and with God, who had sent him back with a message to the Indians .... God had permitted him to return to earth especially that he might thus warn his people to banish whiskey from among them. (Mooney 1900a:163) Yonaguska*s admonition was accepted by the People to the extent that the council of clan elders officially banned the use of alcohol and called upon the Indians to act according to the traditional values of harmony and temperance, While Yonaguska did not initiate a true movement of revitalization like, for example, that of the prophet Handsome Lake (1735-1815) among the Iroquois (see Wallace 1978:442-448), the messages of the two vision­ aries had many features of context and content in common. Both were the result of a time of socio-political and cultural change taking place within their respective tribes, to which the two leaders responded by emphasizing the need to adhere to the old tribal ethics. For the Eastern Cherokees in particular, it was an attempt at reviving the traditional tenets of the harmony ethic to 116 counterbalance those changes that, even in the generally conservative society of the Mountain Cherokees, had slowly begun to work their way into the life of the People. To some extent, even the full-blood and conservative Eastern Cherokees could not avoid the onslaught of white civilization. When the aged Yonaguska decided to move upstream to Oconaluftee, he probably intended to lead his people away from direct interaction with the whites. The aged chief, in fact, was not only concerned about alcohol, of which he had been himself a victim before his prophetic experience, but also about Christianity. While much of the past literature has emphasized the pervasive acceptance of the Christian religion among the Cherokees, a more careful analysis of the records shows that many beloved men, full-blood tribal leaders and medicine men openly fought the efforts of white missionaries and their Indian converts (see McLoughlin 1984). Mooney was told by his aged informants that Yonaguska was "extremely suspicious of missionaries" (1900:163), and that he and the clan elders did not allow a Cherokee translation of the Bible to circulate among the People, Although the aged chief had been apparently well impressed with the content of the book, it is reported that he said; "Well, it seems to be a good book, strange the white people are not better after having it 117

so long" (Hodge, P. 1912, 2:1000). Yonaguska is also important in the history of the Eastern Cherokees for having adopted William H. Thomas as his son. Thomas, called Wil-Usdi (Little Will) by the Indians because of physical stature, played a key role in conjunction with the removal events and there­ after. As a white man he understood the machinations and intricacies of politics and was thus successful in achieving a goal at which Indians alone and skilled mixed-bloods failed: to secure the Eastern Cherokees the right to remain east in a permanent home in their beloved mountains. As an adopted member of the Band, Thomas understood the Indians* love for their ancestral land, and the record shows that his primary loyalty went to 'his* Qualla Cherokees (see Russell 1956). The Indians, for their part, vowed never to leave their beloved mountains, as Yonaguska had summoned them shortly before his death at eighty years of age in 1839.

Tsali: Legend of a Sacrifice It is in connection with the 1838 round-up of some settlements of Mountain Cherpkees outside the Qualla Tract for removal that the important figure of the aged (?) Tsali, or Charley, comes into focus. Much of the historical evidence connected with the so-called Tsali incident is still the subject of controversial 118

interpretations (compare Mooney 1900atl31; Bauer 1970:24- 25; Bedford 1962; Kutsche 1963). Whatever the 'facts', Tsali has passed into legend as a symbol of Cherokee nationalism, heroism and sacrifice, and determination to oppose removal. Like the figure of Tsali, memories of the removal events are still alive today among the senior citizens who recall the sorrowful stories they were told by their grandparents whose older relatives had lived through those crucial years. Significantly, many older Eastern Cherokees today still carry names such as Going, and Goingback after those ancestors who walked their way back from Oklahoma to their native land in North Carolina. The names clearly reflect the trauma of removal and the joy of the return. In the accounts and comments I gathered among the senior citizens on the removal issue there is bitterness and perhaps, at times, a vague sense of fear present. The memories alone were a reason for many Indians to keep their shotguns at hand in the home, as one of my informants recalled: My grandfather once told me a story; [there was] an old Indian doctor, a conjureman, who lived down the road to Bryson City. When the soldiers came, he didn't run away like other Indians [did]. He believed he could use his strong medicine against the white men. Well, the old people used to say his medicine didn't work, so the soldiers took him away, but they let him go after they got Tsali and his two boys. 119

Now, that old man moved up here in the Big Cove and swore he'll shoot them soldiers if they show up again. After they shot Tsali they [soldiers] left for good; some folks [i.e., Cherokees] hiding up'n the mountains back yonder didn't know [they had killed Tsali] ... they stay[ed] up there for two years hiding in the woods, that's what my old grandpa told me. Today, both young and old are still bitterly impressed with the unjust treatment received by the Cherokees in 1838. The victimization of the Cherokees and the violence of the white soldiers is depicted in the live drama "Unto These Hills" which is performed on the Qualla Boundary during the tourist season. The drama narrates the history of the Cherokees from their first contact with the Spaniards in 1540 to the removal. Many Chero­ kees, including some senior citizens, are employed every season to play the roles of their ancestors (see Chapter IV) . The versions of the removal events 1 collected among the senior citizens on the Boundary are almost identical to the 'Tsali story' reported by Mooney (1900a; 131), which is generally accepted as the official version. Since it is unlikely that the senior citizens compared what they know with Mooney's report, apparently the Tsali episode was already standard history among the Eastern Cherokees by the time of Mooney's field work in 1887-90. 120

The senior citizens concur that the death of Tsali was instrumental in gaining the Mountain Cherokees the right to remain in North Carolina. Even though the historical interpretation of those events was later challenged by some authors (see Bauer 19 70:24-25; Kutsche 1963}, the traumatic impact of the removal years has made a history in its own right in the psychology of the Eastern Cherokees* A profound inpress ion was left by the 'sacrifice' of old Tsali who, after escaping, gave himself up, Tsali was executed with his two oldest sons and a son-in-law by a firing squad which included Cherokee prisoners (?) of Euchella's band of Mountain Cherokees (see Bedford 1972). Tsali's youngest son Wasidani (Washington) was spared because of his young age along with the women. Wasidani's great-granddaughter is a senior citizen who lives in Soco near Washington Creek, named after her great-grandfather. The legend of Tsali lives on among the Eastern Cherokees not only in their memories but also in the tribal program designed to assist the senior citizens. Tsali is regarded as one of the beloved 'grandfathers' of the Band, as William Thomas is looked upon as their friend and benefactor. Of both they speak with respect, but it is to the former that the Eastern Cherokees look as an inspiration and an example of personal sacrifice for the common good; and it is to Tsali that the new 121 senior citizens complex was dedicated. The removal events reflected the contradictory approach of the federal government to the sensitive issue of what to do with the older tribal members. It has been suggested that "at the direction of federal authorities ... elderly [Cherokees] were allowed to live out their final years undisturbed" (Finger 1984:21), Yet, it is unlikely that the Mountain Cherokees would move west leaving their old people behind. The position of authority still held by the aged in the local bands and settlements, and the cohesiveness of the family and clan did not allow for a serious consideration of the government's concession. Among the Mountain Cherokees, as with the rest of the nation, the roundup and removal was carried on indiscriminately. Even an old chief like Junaluska was deported. And, Tsali's reaction was apparently the result of the abuses suffered by his aged wife from the American soldiers. Occasionally, a few very old Indians living alone were overlooked by the troops who did not consider it worth the trouble to deal with decrepit Indians. This was the case with Hog Bite, a nonagenarian Mountain Cherokee who lived alone on Cartoogechaye Creek. When the soldiers showed up at his cabin, the old Indian was determined to resist removal: 122

[He confronted them] with a gun as ancient as himself. They wisely decided not to test his resolve, reasoning that he was too old to make the trip west and would soon die anyhow. (Hog Bite fooled them. More than a decade later he was still alive and vigorous). (Finger 1984:21) This somewhat funny episode, however, was an exception. The Cherokees were determined not to leave their elders behind for fear they would soon be killed by the whites eager to put their hands on Indian jewelry, Reports of looting of Indian graves accompanied the coming of the soldiers (Sass 1940:163). There was no indication that the aged, once left behind, would be accorded better treatment. Mistreatment of older Indians was also documented by occasionally sympathetic soldiers. Private John G, Burnett, a native of Tennessee, had been sent as an interpreter to escort the Cherokees on the removal trek; he later related the following incident that involved him personally: The only trouble [I had] on the entire journey ... was a brutal teamster by the name of Ben McDonal, who was using his whip on an old, feeble Cherokee to hasten him into the wagon. That sight of an old and nearly blind man ... under the lashes of a bull whip was too much for me. I attempted to stop McDonal and it ended in a personal encounter. He lashed me across the face, ... The little hatchet ...was in my belt, and McDonal was carried unconscious from the scene. I was placed under guard ,.. but I was never brought to trial. (Burnett 1956:23) There are no precise estimates how many North Carolina 123

Cherokees were actually removed to Indian Territory, and how many came back. In all, some 14,000 Cherokees mostly from Georgia started on the Trail of Tears. More than a quarter died on the way or soon after arriving west (see Thornton 1984), mostly the elders, the sick and many of the young. The status of the Cherokees who remained in North Carolina after 1838-39 was somewhat anomalous (see Finger 19 84]. Finally, in 1866, the North Carolina Legislature passed a statute granting them permission to remain in the state. Later, by an act of Congress on June 15, 1870, the Indians residing on the lands purchased by Thomas acquired the legal name of Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. In December of the same year, after the tribal elders called a general council of all Mountain Cherokees at Cheoah near Robbinsville, the Eastern Cherokees adopted a written constitution, elected the aged Salonitah (Flying Squirrel) as their new principal chief, and empowered a new tribal council to administer the Eastern Cherokee reservation. Formal recognition of their limited powers of self-government came in 1889 when the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians was granted a corporate charter under the laws of North Carolina (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:171). In 1897 the charter was amended to confer on the Eastern Cherokees certain additional powers of self-government 124

(Eastern Band of Cherbkee Indians 1974:171). Little over fifty years had now passed since the death of Tsali and the promise that the Eastern Cherokees would be allowed to remain east. A new tribal entity had now emerged from the concentration at Qualla of several hundred members of various Mountain Cherokee bands, plus a number of refugees after the removal. The old gérontocratie structure had been substituted for a democratically elected tribal government and a written constitution of American derivation. Apparently, the Eastern Cherokees were now making considerable progress toward 'civilization' as an Extra Census Bulletin of the 189 0 Census reported that the Qualla Cherokees "all wear citizens' clothing ... [and have an] efficient school system" (U.S. Census 1892:8). Yet, the same source reported that of the 1,500 tribal members only "600 Indians can use English enough for ordinary intercourse" (U.S. Census 1892:8). Indeed, the old tribal culture was still much alive among them by the late 1800s. And, despite the formal changes in governmental structure, residence, and socio-economic organization, the aged still played a key role in tribal life, as the young ethnologist James Mooney was to document in his pioneering work. 125

James Mooney (Nunda) and the Cherokee Elders When Mooney reached the Qualla Boundary in 1887, a different Cherokee socio-cultural reality was documented. Not just the slow and, in the hope of white officials and missionaries, steady move of the Indians toward a white, rural way of life, but also the tenacity of the mostly full-blood Cherokees to preserve if not their traditional socio-political structure at least their traditions, language and, to some extent, their social and ethical codes. It was thanks to the cooperation and trust Mooney— whom the Cherokees referred to as Nunda (lit. moon) from his last name— secured among the tribal elders that an impressive body of tribal knowledge has been recorded and preserved, often in the form of original native notes and manuscripts. Through the ethnologist’s research, the Eastern Cherokees showed that behind the outward signs of their acculturation, much of the traditional Cherokee culture was still alive in their knowledge, language, psychology and behavioral patterns. The elders in particular were conscious of the role history and circum­ stances had bestowed upon them as custodians and teachers of the remaining tribal traditions. Under the white 'push' toward 'civilization,' the elders had moved in the background where nevertheless they continued to exercise considerable influence in family and tribal life. 126

Their pervasive participation in— and to some extent control over— various aspects of community life is reflected in the so-called formulas that Mooney (1891, 1900a] collected: About six hundred ... covering every aspect pertaining to the daily life and thought of the Indian, including medicine, love, hunting, fishing ... self-protection ... witchcraft, the crops, the council, the ball play, etc., and in fact embodying almost the whole of the[ir] ancient religion. (1891: 307) Mooney collected the first of a number of notebooks containing such formulas from Ayunini, or Swimmer (1835- 1899), a famous medicine man from Big Cove, As the ethnologist recalled, he was able to convince the old medicine man to part with his booklet with the reassur­ ance that he wished to put those "songs ... on record to preserve them, so that when he and the [other] old men of the tribe were dead, the world might be aware how much the Cherokees had known" (Mooney 1891:311). It has been argued that Mooney's success among the Cherokees is "attributable in part to the fact that he astutely but sympathetically took advantage of the social disintegration and economic poverty of the Cherokees" (Binsley 1981:210). It is perhaps more accurate to credit his success to his keen cross-cultural sensitivity, certainly a part of his personal ethnic background, and his respect for traditional Cherokee culture, Mooney 127 often recognized his indebtedness toward the aged men and women who trusted him. The following apology to his main informant, Ayunini, leaves little doubt about Mooney's feelings toward his hosts: First in the list of storytellers comes Ayunini, 'Swimmer*, from whom nearly three-fourths of the whole number of formulas were ... obtained.... The collection could not have been made without his help..,. Born about 1835 ... he grew up ... to be a priest, doctor, and keeper of tradition, so that he was regarded as an authority throughout the band.... He was prominent in the local affairs of the band, and no Green-corn dance, ball play, or other tribal function was ever considered complete without his presence and active assistance, A genuine antiquarian and patriot, proud of his people and their ancient system, he took delight in record­ ing in his native alphabet the songs and sacred formulas ... while his mind was a storehouse of Indian tradition. He spoke no English, and to the day of his death clung to the moccasin and turban, together with the rattle, his badge of authority. He died in March 1899 ... and was buried like a true Cherokee on the slope of a forest-clad mountain. (1900a:23G-237) Similar dignifying remarks and sense of respect transpire from Mooney's description of another main informant, Itagunahi, or John Ax, a Big Cove elder almost centenarian and, apparently, the oldest man in the Band: Although not a professional priest or doctor, [John Ax] was recognized as an authority upon all things relating to tribal custom.... Of a poetic and imaginative temperament, he cared for the wonder stories, of the giant Tsui'kalu, or the great Uktena, or of the invisible spirit people.... He speaks no English, and with his erect square figure and pierc­ ing eye is a fine specimen of the old-time Indian, Nothwithstanding his great age he walked without other assistance other than his stick to the last ball game, where he watched every run with the closest interest, and would have attended the dance 128

the night before but for the interposition of friends. (1900a:237) Considering the great amount ^of information gathered by Mooney in a relatively short period of time, it seems clear that the Eastern Cherokees came soon to trust him, and that they considered his argument on the preservation of traditional knowledge a valid one, both in view of the medicine men's old age and the changes taking place at Qualla. Having collected enough material during his first field trip, Mooney returned to Washington with plenty of notes and, most importantly he thought, carrying the precious Swimmer manuscript. He started to work on it right away; that he transliterated and translated most of the formulas was a fortune because, later, the original manuscript "disappeared without leaving a clue" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:1}, Three decades later, Frans Olbrechts and his wife went to Qualla to follow up on Mooney's studies. Recall­ ing his stay among the Big Cove Cherokees, Olbrechts remarked that: The mere statement that I came to stay with them with the same purpose in view as had Nunda .., served as the best introduction.... People who looked askance, and medicine men who look sullen when first approached, changed as if touched by a magic wand as they heard his name. (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932: xvii ) 129

Like Mooney, Olbrechts too relied mostly on the assis­ tance of aged informants among whom was the same Will West Long who had in his youth served as an interpreter to James Mooney (see Witthoft 1948}. Besides W.W. Long, Olbrechts worked with several other Big Cove elders; a list of their names is deposited in the National Anthro­ pological Archives at the Smithsonian Institution. The comparative information Olbrechts gathered at Qualla enabled him to revise and publish some 96 of the 137 unpublished formulas of the Swimmer manuscript. Olbrechts' revised and edited version of Mooney's unpublished material appeared in 1932 with the title The Swimmer Manuscript; Cherokee Sacred Formulas and Medicinal Prescriptions (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932), which he credited posthumously to Mooney. Mooney himself had returned in 1888 to Cherokee where he had acquired the manuscript of yet another prominent tribal elder by the name of Gatiwanasti. The book of formulas written in the Sequoyah Syllabary was in the possession of the shaman's son Wilnoti (hence it is often referred to as the Wilnoti Manuscript). Reluctant­ ly, and after repeated visits of the ethnologist, Wilnoti decided to sell his father's papers. Again, the acquisition was largely possible thanks to Mooney's persuading arguments about the importance of preserving such an invaluable wealth of traditional Cherokee 130

knowledge. Still at Big Cove, Mooney acquired a third manuscript in the Sequoyah Syllabary from an elderly Indian woman named Ayasta (see Mooney 1900a:pl.xiv}, whom Olbrechts later defined as "a medicine woman of high repute and a staunch traditionalist" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:109), The booklet was the work of her late husband Gahuni, a prominent medicine man, then deceased for some years at the time of Mooney's visit. Ayasta narrated traditional legends and stories that Mooney later included in his classic Myths of the Cherokees (1900a) . He described Ayasta as "one of the principal conservatives among the women" (1900a:237), and so respected on the Qualla Boundary to be "the only woman privileged to speak in council among the East Cherokees" (Mooney 1900a:453). She was also the mother of Will West Long whom, as mentioned, Mooney hired as an interpreter and who would himself be, in his maturity, one of the main figures of Eastern Cherokee (Big Cove) conservatism, but also a collaborator with many students of Cherokee culture (Witthoft 1948). Although Mooney worked primarily with elderly Big Cove informants, further inquiries in regard to the existence at Qualla of other native manuscripts, letters and notes led him in the fall 1888 to the acquisition of the Inali (also Inoli), or Black Pox Papers, thus called 131 from the name of the compiler, Inali. A well known Cherokee elder from Wolfetown, Inali had died a few years before Mooney's arrival at Cherokee. Of the aged Indian, Mooney wrote: "Like those already mentioned, [Inali] was a full-blood Cherokee, speaking no English, and in the course of a long lifetime he had filled almost every posi­ tion of honor among his people" (1891:314-315). Among the papers presented to Mooney by Inali's daughter there was "a manuscript book in Inali's handwriting containing the records of the old council of wolfetown" (Mooney 1891:315), where the Indian had served as secretary for several years. The Inali Papers on Wolfetown were later, in 1966, trans­ literated and translated by Anna and Jack Kilpatrick who published them with the title Chronicles of wolf town: Social Documents of the North Carolina Cherokees, 1850- 1862. After reading through the pages of the Chronicles, I cannot but concur with the compilers' conclusions: The Inoli Letters ... have also provided proof that there is something unmutable in Cherokee psychological makeup ... ; that favorite Cherokee word duvu;gh(o)dv ('right,' 'just') binds the documents together with a living thread..... Over the Wolftown documents there hang the unspoken distrust for the White man and the constant fear of eviction. No great spiritual winds sweep across these pages; rather there is a stubborn, grumbling tenacity to preserve and endure. (Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1966b:10). James Mooney's intensive work among the Eastern Cher­ okees both on and off the Qualla Boundary resulted in additional field notes and native formulas he obtained 132

from other elders of the tribe. Mooney obtained formulas from Tsiskwa, or Bird; from Awanita, also known as Young Deer, "one of their best herb doctors" (Mooney 1891:316); and from Takwatihi (also Tagwadihi), or Catawba Killer, an aged medicine man of the Cheowa community whose "]cnowledge was limited to the practice of a few specialities, but in regard to these his information was detailed and accurate" (Mooney 1891:317). Thus, conservative Eastern Cherokee elders, highly suspicious of whites and reluctant to share their know­ ledge with strangers found in the sympathetic ethnologist a catalyst on which to direct a flow of information on traditional lore, beliefs and practices which had already, in part, begun to disintegrate. Mooney, for his part, had realized early in the field the wealth of knowledge possessed by the tribe's elders, and the need— in true Boasian fashion— to collect and preserve such a knowledge for posterity: It is impossible to overestimate the ... importance of the materials thus obtained. They are invaluable as the genuine production of the Indian mind, setting forth in the clearest light the state of aboriginal [culture] before its contamination by contact with the Whites. (Mooney 1891:318) Similarly, he felt that the material acquired gave justice to the dignity of the Indian in general and the native medicine men in particular, at the time under attack by both internal and external so-called progressive minds: 133

These formulas furnish a complete refutation of the assertion so frequently made by ignorant and prejudiced writers that the Indian had no religion excepting what they are pleased to call the mean­ ingless mummeries of the medicine men. This is the very reverse of the truth. (Mooney 1891:318) It is certainly significant that those often referred to by whites as 'old, illiterate Injuns' provided Mooney with such information to allow him to challenge the notion, then commonly held, of cultural evolutionism and of the 'vanishing barbarism* of the American Indian. In fact, Mooney not only "viewed the Cherokees as more than a dying cultural remnant" (Hinsley 1981:213), but he also challenged the view of the Indian cultures as "simpler, undeveloped human experiences" (Hinsley 1981:213). Instead, in a summative statement, Mooney expressed his opinion that:. The formulas contained in these manuscripts are not disjoined fragments of a system long since extinct, but the revelation of a living [tradition] which still has its priests and devoted adherents, and it is only necessary to witness a ceremonial ball play, with its fasting, its going to water, and its mystic bead manipulations, to understand how strong is the hold which the old faith yet has upon the minds of even the younger generations. (1891:309) Importantly, Mooney also showed that elderly tribal members still held a central place in community and family life; the elders' knowledge, experience and skills made them an invaluable segment of that small, isolated, remnant group of mountain Indians known as the Eastern Band of Cherokees. Despite some inaccuracies (see 134

Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1965, 1967), the ethnologist portrayed a culture still quite traditionally oriented. Old social networks and clan ties, though weakened, had survived despite the Indians' scattered residence, along with traditions of reciprocity and mutual help, and a viable even if reduced ceremonial and ritual life which increasingly, for fear of persecution, was relegated to the domestic secrecy of their log cabins (Speck and Broom 19.51) . In such a context, the aged continued to constitute a focal point for the maintenance and transmission of a Cherokee tradition, world view, and social code which white culture had attempted, for the most part unsuccess­ fully, to eradicate (Gilbert 1943:212-214).

A Time of Change: The Case of the Gaduqi The relative isolation of the Eastern Cherokees lasted until the early decades of this century when substantial changes were introduced in their educational, economic and social life. With the appointment of James E. Henderson as Indian agent in 1913, education on the Boundary received particular attention; educational facilities were improved and the number of enrolled students passed from about 200 in 1913 to almost 500 in 1929. A hydroelectric plant and a dam were installed on the reservation to supply the school and its 135 facilities for mechanical arts with electric power; the government thus "began an active program of bringing younger generations into the ... day schools [where] the Cherokee boys grew up to learn the white man's trades” (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:102), While the children (today's senior citizens) were confronted with white man's education, the adult Cherokee population became involved in the lumber industry. In the several years of logging activities, particularly from 1910 to 1930, the industry brought an incipient cash economy to Cherokee which started to substitute for the largely subsistence oriented economy of the preceding decades. The short-term benefits of the lumber activi­ ties were a relief for the growing population who could no longer count on farming alone for its needs. Some older senior citizens remember well when they worked in the logging industry. On the way up to Big Cove, the senior citizens on one of the vans that provide free escort services showed me where the old railroad and the loading stations once were. They are now covered by woods and barely visible from the road. An elderly informant who had worked for a number of years in the logging.operations recalled that: There was plenty of hard work for us Indians back in those [logging] days. One time [we] were working way up yonder; well, I wasn't quick enough, a tree fell on me, I almost lost my leg. My buddies pulled 136

me out from under, [They] took me to Bryson City, but I was back on the job in two weeks. Sometimes I feel pain right here; I guess it never healed completely. Well, the pay was low. Back in those days folks around here grew much of their own food, so you can say there was enough to get around; some folks spent their money wisely, some didn't and got into drinking ... lots of drinking 1 Another senior citizen remembered how he was able to buy himself a gun, still in his possession, which he used for hunting small game, the only source of meat his family of five, plus his aged mother, could afford. Logging was eventually drastically reduced from the 1930s on by the creation of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The Park saved the surrounding mountains from unscrupulous deforestation by white enterpreneurs (King 1982:11), but was also met with mixed reactions among the Eastern Cherokees (see Bauer 1970:34-35) whose immediate loss of jobs was not reassured by the perspective of new long range opportunities with the development of the tourist industry. Concomitant with the changes brought upon the Eastern Cherokees by the logging industry and the subsequent establishment of the Park was the gradual demise of the traditional free labor companies and mutual help coopera­ tives, referred to in Cherokee as gadugi, in which the aged had traditionally played important roles and functions. The fate of the gadugi, as it affected specifically the aged, reflects the general process of acculturation and 137 the changes that took place at Qualla in the mid-1900s. By looking at the historic gadugi we can assess the impact of modernization on older people and the tribal community as a whole who had found itself, by the late 1950s, at a socio-economic and cultural 'crossroads' {Gulick 1960). The native term gadugi can*be loosely translated as "settlement place" (Mooney 1900:519), hence the idea of group localization, Fogelson and Kutsche (1961:88), however, suggested that the term probably reflected the custom to offer food (gadu, lit. bread) in exchange for services; the elders I spoke with agree with that explanation, as indicated in the following statement of a senior citizen from Birdtown: People don't do it anymore; it used to be that folks got together to work on someone's land, [toj repair a house, or [to] dig up a grave. That was years ago, I was much younger then. Well, if you had no money to pay [for the services] you gave'em food ... there was always plenty to eat. That's what that word gadugi means, you work together and then, you eat together, like a team. I know, they stopped doing gadugi [during] the logging [years], like I told you before. The mutual-aid of the gadugi was not restricted to farming alone but from time to time it also included house con­ struction and repair, bridge building and maintenance, general help to the needy in terms of free labor and goods, and funerals. Evidence in the literature (Speck and Schaeffer 1945; Fogelson and Kutsche 1961; Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974) suggests that the structure of the 138 gadugi changed 'ittle over time since tribal reorgani­ zation after removal. Simple reciprocity and exchange of free services, and later the increased practice of hiring out such services, were based on the ancient Cherokee custom of maintaining a communal 'storage' of goods and services from which the members of the local community could draw from based on their needs. Although Mooney (1900a) does not discuss in detail the gadugi, as he was concerned mostly with myth and lore, there are other late-1900s descriptions of such communal activities at Qualla. Carrington (cited in Donaldson 1892:12) eyewitnessed on a hillside in Wolfetown "a 'working bee' of some 30 men, women and children . . . uniting their forces to help a neighbor put in his corn" in areas so steep that they could not have been plowed with animals. Similarly, Frederick Starr, an archeolo- gist then visiting Qualla, reported that the fields of the Eastern Cherokees were "well cultivated. They work them in companies of ten to twelve persons ... who work the fields of each member in order" (1898:144), observing also that the communal effort had changed little from aborigin­ al times. An important aspect of this persistence was reflected in the roles and functions performed by the aged as members of the gadugi. While able-bodied adults provided most of the actual labor, older people served as 'group 139

chief,' overseer, and treasurer respectively of a given company. The custom of incorporating the aged in posi­ tions of leadership within the gadugi lasted until relatively recent times, Fogelson and Kutsche (1961:108) reported that a gadugi still operant in Big Cove in 1958 had entrusted the office of chairman to "an old man ... one of the few men in Big Cove still fluent in the Sequoyah Syllabary and able to keeji records in Cherokee for the group." Aged women were generally excluded from positions of leadership in the gadugi but helped, as had their female ancestors, by tending the very young and the infirm, cooking for the laborers in the field, and also on a given night for those who attended the vigil that traditionally preceded a funeral. At times, however, old people who did not wish to be left out, were given "small plots to hoe along with the rest. Old people would also sit around and tell stories and contribute in general to the group morale" (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961:109), The analogy between the modern gadugi and the com­ munal work brigades of the aboriginal Cherokees is apparent, particularly as far as the positive incorporation of the aged in the activities was concerned; not only in their supporting and leading roles, but also as active participants in an ancient economic enterprise that reinforced the cultural identity and socio-economic 140

solidarity of the group. The early decades of this century brought a critical change in the traditional structure of the Cherokee free labor companies. Under the pressures of a wage economy, the gadugi increasingly began to hire out its services to whites at a set rate. White farmers and the logging industry welcomed the efficiency, organization, and reliability of the small Indian work brigades, while the Indians themselves welcomed the much needed cash. With an increased dependency on white wages, there occurred a steady decline in the reciprocal free services provided within the local Indian communities. This change also began to affect the old people whose traditional roles and functions were no longer in tune with the changing needs of the organized work team. Modern management skills were now required to deal with wage earning and taxation, record and bookkeeping, and labor laws. The traditional festive aspect of the gadugi, the get-togethers for a communal meal with sing­ ing, dancing and story telling were eventually abandoned; [The gadugi] came under North Carolina regulations as to corporations and became subject to taxation. Unable to meet taxes from their earnings, the gadugi soon declined and almost disappeared.... To this decline the Cherokees attribute ... the disappearance of the once prosperous farms that used to dot the hillsides of their country. (Eastern Band of Chero­ kee Indians 1974:102) 141

Partly responsible also for the decline of the poor and mutual help societies on the Boundary was the improve­ ment in education resulting from the transfer of responsibility from the Quakers to the Cherokee Agency at the turn of the century. As part of the BIA Agency's education improvement program, an effective manual train­ ing course was established in the township of Yellowhill, in the heart of the reservation. All kinds of handicraft objects, from farming equipment to household fixtures, until then usually made by the old people, were produced in large quantities by young Cherokees: Among other things coffins began to be made at this school ... and the whole of the funeral functions of the Poor Aid Society vanished. Soon the effects of the health and welfare service of the ... govern­ ment [were also] felt.... So it came about that the cooperative and mutual aid among neighbors ... disappeared in favor of direct Government aid. (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:102) This was particularly true for the mutual help companies in Yellowhill and to a lesser extent in the other townships, with the notable exception of the highly conservative Big Cove community where an old gadugi survived until the early 1960s (Fogelson and Kutsche 1961). Increased dependency on government aid, reduction of logging operations, and a general demise of the gadugi had a negative impact on the Qualla Cherokees, particularly the conservative full-bloods. They say the so-called White-Indians, newly enrolled members with minimal 142

Cherokee blood, gained greater political control and acquired the best of the few agricultural lands left on the reservation. The hardship was particularly felt by the older generations of that time who saw many of their traditional roles and functions undermined more or less directly by the changes brought upon them by the white man. Widespread poverty characterized life on the reser­ vation and hunger was quite common among the people, as several senior citizens now recall. Ironically, a temporary relief came in the 1940s with the war industry and the enlistment of many Cherokees in the armed forces (see Bureau of Indian Affairs 1945). Nevertheless, pervasive economic and social problems affected the Eastern Cherokees who, like most Indian tribes, did not benefit from the economic prosperity that followed the Second World War. During the 1950s, the Cherokees reached "the lowest ebb in economic deprivation" (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:104). Concomitant with the diffi­ cult economic situation was the threat of termination, a federal Indian policy aimed at the termination of the trust relationship between the government and the tribes. The following decade this policy was abandoned in favor of economic assistance. The 1960s thus saw the beginning of economic recovery on the Eastern Cherokee reservation. Perhaps symbolic of the end of an era based 143

on agriculture was the closing in 1956 of the Cherokee Boarding School, whose students had been engaged in agri­ cultural production. The Eastern Cherokees were now fully involved in the development of the tourist industry, with its opportunities and contradictions. From a few small businesses in 194 5, today some 200 motels, restaurants, gift shops and other stores, franchises, museums, and seasonal performances provide the infrastructure of seasonal tourism on which most Eastern Cherokees now rely for their livelihood (compare Balias 1960, 1962), Today's Eastern Cherokee elders have thus witnessed unprecedented changes both in the surrounding American society and on their beloved lands. Logging first, but particularly the later booming tourist industry have changed the face of the Qualla Boundary. Tourist develop­ ment has led to the construction of facilities at the expense of the traditional corn fields that had become too small and too scattered to feed a growing Indian population. Work brigades and ceremonies tied to the agricultural cycle have died out. Schooling has kept the children away from home and from older relatives thereby alienating their traditional educational functions. Of the seven matrilineal clans only the names have survived. The important figure of the old Indian doctor or conjurer and his native pharmacopeia have been rendered obsolete by the improved medical care provided by the Indian Health Service 144

(although the counseling of elderly Indian men and women on health matters is still sought by conservative Indians and also white people) . Considering the changes of the last four decades, a reduction in the roles traditionally played by the aged has been inevitable. Admittedly, modernization and acculturation have 'killed* some supporting and leading roles once performed by older men and women; yet, the Eastern Cherokees have also tried to control the rate and direction of change, and adjust to modern American culture and economy. As a result, cultural continuity has survived the superimposed concept of 'Indians as a vanishing race'; has overcome forced assimilation, dispos­ session, relocation, and termination. Within such an effort to cultural coexistence, subsequent generations of tribal elders have provided that link with the long gone traditional past without which the distinctiveness and even survival of tribal identity would not have been possible. While the tribe looks at the new challenges of the future, it is well aware of its unique place in the history of the region and its economic dependency on the surrounding white society, still, the Eastern Cherokees continue to show "remarkable vitality in the face of formidable odds" (Hodge 1981:132); the senior citizens are part of this vitality, as I discuss in the next Chapter. CHAPTER IV

SENIOR CITIZENS IN THE CONTEMPORARY CONTEXT

A Matter of Substance I was born in Yellowhill in 1916; I've lived in Cherokee all my life; I'll die here too, you know, Cherokee is my home. Now, my youngest son, never liked it here, [he] moved down to Sylva after he got married; he came back to Cherokee when he retired. I'm an old man now, I live alone; I've got my army pension to keep me going. My two sons look after me ... and also the folks there at Tsali Manor, In this tribe of snakes [!] people still care for the senior citizens. This statement of an elderly tribal member who had served on the Tribal Council after his tour of duty in the Second World War summarizes some of the elements characterizing the condition of the senior citizens in the contemporary reservation context. A lifetime spent on the reservation with the inclusion of military service in the war or employment in the war industry is a common background of most older tribal members, A strong sense of belonging to the tribe, to Cherokee as a place and a cultural identity is also typical of the senior citizens. Nevertheless, modern reservation life has also been affected by profound changes particularly in the last two decades to such an extent that modem socio-economic

145 146 forces and cultural trends tend to 'puli' the senior citizens in seemingly opposite directions. On the one hand, the growing tendency toward the nuclear family isolates many aged persons. On the other, social and kinship ties remain generally strong, and residential proximity plus the visiting of relatives and friends compensate in part for the decline of the multi- generational household. In the political arena, younger generations seek power and seats on the Council and other tribal offices, and yet older people continue to exercise considerable influence in tribal politics. As noted, the Principal Chief, a senior citizen, though no longer the charismatic leader of old, is still the primary figure of the Band. And, within the local communities on the reservation, older people also play prominent roles in locally sponsored activities. Economically, many individual possessory rights are held by senior citizens. Since land ownership (read surface use rights) is one of the most important issues at Eastern Cherokee, old people have considerable clout in tribal affairs, t'îhile individual senior citizens make their own decisions as to the nature and extent of their involvement in tribal politics, the Senior Citizens Advisory Council focuses on issues of direct, common concern to older tribal members. Its members' frequent visits at the Tribal Council House to meet with the 147

Chairman or the Chief reflect the influence of the senior citizens, as a group, on tribal authorities, "You know" said a tribal employee as we watched a dele­ gation of senior citizens leave the Council House, "the old folks won't tsUce no for an answer. If they think they're right, as they usually are, they'll eventually get what they want. The Council ain't gonna fool around with the senior citizens; old folks have been around long enough, they know who runs the show here in Cherokee." In reality, older tribal members do not always get the satisfaction they expect of tribal authorities, such as the case of an elderly woman who had repeatedly asked for, but not yet obtained, substantial improvements to her home's access road. Similarly, in 19 83 the Council turned down the senior citizens' request to reinstate the young director of Tsali Manor who had been removed from his office amidst charges of defrauding a senior citizen of her social security checks. As I recall, the senior citizens had 'forgiven* him based on his past record of care and dedication to older people, and had even prepared a welcome back party for the man. The Council saw the matter differently, and rejected the senior citizens' petition that favored the former director. Overall, however, issues of common concern for the elderly receive careful and sympathetic consideration 148 from tribal authorities. This reflects a general con­ sensus that deference and, whenever possible, special treatment should go to older tribal members. Modern Eastern Cherokees acknowledge the important contributions of subsequent generations of elders during the changes and the crises of the last century. They recognize that : the aged have been an active force in safeguarding the distinctiveness of their tribal identity through the preservation of their homeland, of certain traditions and knowledge, and the Cherokee language. The elders' cultural strategy may indeed be referred to as accommo­ dation without surrender. Thus, in part because of their influence in tribal life and because of a tradition that calls for respect toward the aged, a positive image is generally associated with the senior citizens in contemporary Eastern Chero­ kee society. Old age continues to be associated with tradition, tribal identity, and 'Indianness'. Yet, the senior citizens— unlike many younger Indians— do not display those outward signs such as long hair, braids, Indian jewelry, beadwork, and the like, that have become symbols of 'Indianness.' Indeed, older Eastern Cherokees dress much like rural white Appalachians, and like them are not well off economically, as Neely (1979:169) pointed out. Older Cherokee women do wear the tradition­ al handkerchief and carry beautiful baskets as purses 149 but, as with older men, were it not for their pheno­ typical traits, and the language they use among themselves, they would not be recognized as today's typical (or sterotypical?) Indian. The senior citizens' 'Indianness' or, better, their 'Cherokeeness' is therefore , * a matter of substance rather than the reflection of a stereotype, In this chapter I will analyze how the senior citizens fit in the contemporary context of Eastern Cherokee society and culture. Since the elderly are an integral part of the reservation community, I first provide a general description of the Eastern Band, followed by a demographic profile of the EBCI senior citizens. I then address the nature and extent of the senior citizens' participation in contemporary reserva­ tion life, and the tribe's response to the needs of a growing number of old people through the senior citizens program at Tsali Manor.

Present Day Eastern Cherokee The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians (EBCI) is the only federally recognized tribe in the State of North Carolina. The local BIA Cherokee Agency is responsible for implementing the federal trust responsibility to the Eastern Band. The Tribe exercises authority of home rule through a democratically elected tribal government 150 composed of a legislative and an executive branch (see King 1982:122-123). The legislative branch of the Eastern Band is the Tribal Council, composed of twelve members, two from each of the six townships {tribal voting districts) on the reservation. For these officials the minimum blood quantum required in order to hold office is 1/16 Eastern Cherokee, and they must be at least 21 years of age. The executive branch consists of three officials; the Principal Chief, the Vice-Chief, and the Executive

Advisor; under the 1897 Charter, a minimum of h Eastern Cherokee blood and 35 years of age are required for these offices. Judicial authority within the reservation boundaries is administered by the Cherokee Court of Indian Offences and enforced by the Cherokee Indian Police (see Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1980:58-59, for a discussion of the problems of jurisdiction between the Tribe, the State, and federal government). The Eastern Cherokees hold equitable title to some 56,000 acres comprising the Eastern Cherokee Reservation. Individual tribal members have certain surface use rights, or possessory rights; such rights to surface use of tribal lands are regulated by the Tribe through the Council (see Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1980:91-107). The Eastern Cherokee Reservation is made up of a main tract of some 50,000 acres known as the Qualla Indian Boundary; 151

of a 3,200 acre tract near the Boundary; and of a number of small tracts of land in four countries, some as far as 80 miles from Cherokee proper. The Qualla Indian Boundary where the majority of Eastern Cherokees reside is divided as follows:

TABLE 1 THE QUALLA INDIAN BOUNDARY (EBCI)

Community Township County (Tribal Voting District) Big Cove Big Cove Swain Birdtown Birdtown n Cherokee Yellow Hill II Painttown Painttown Jackson

Big Y Wolfetown II Soco 11 n

(Source: Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:22-23,)

The six communities on the Boundary have long been the subject of anthropological investigation. Most authors (Gulick 1960; Kupferer 1968; Neely 1979; Hodge 1981) suggest that they are socially and culturally heterogeneous. Recent research (French and Hornbuckle in Hodge 1981} indicates that Eastern Cherokee families can be grouped under three general categories: conservative, middle class, and marginal. There are problems with such 152 typologies, but since they are often used in the litera­ ture they are herein summarized; in turn, I also indicate what I consider to be an alternative classification. Following the common typology, conservative Eastern Cherokees have generally at least 3/4 Indian blood, tend to live in multigenerational, extended households, and speak Cherokee in the home. Traditionally oriented patterns of social interaction, stress on the ethic of harmony, and siibordination of the individual to the group are typically associated with conservative tribal members. Unlike the so-called middle class Cherokees, the conser­ vatives also continue to seek the advice of Indian doctors and use traditional pharmacopeia often in conjunction with western medicines and medical care provided at the local Cherokee Hospital. This parallelism is also reflected in the religious attitudes of conserva­ tive Eastern Cherokees who, while nominally Christian of various Protestant denominations— especially Baptist— also maintain a belief in the traditional cosmic forces of the ancient Cherokee, namely the sun, moon, fire, and in Little People, Nunnehi (spirit beings), witches, and the like. Economically, conservatives are generally poor and, particularly older people, rely on tribal assistance programs. Needless to say, conservative, traditional tribal members consider themselves as the real Indians, the true Cherokees (compare Kuperer 1968:93) . 153

In contrast, middle class Eastern Cherokees appear to have severed any substantial relationship with tradi­ tional Cherokee culture, beliefs and social codes. As Hodge (1981:127) summarized, these tribal members "conform to prevalent local [white] American standards. Children are encouraged to be achievers, English is spoken in the home, friends are often middle class Cherokees or Whites, and houses are expensive and modern.” Middle class tribal members adhere to the Protestant ethic of work, and most are Christian fundamentalists. They often consider traditional Indians as an obstacle to development and 'progress' on the reservation. My own observations suggest that middle class Cherokees despite their negative attitude toward conser­ vative Indians maintain a pragmatic interest in Cherokee culture. Unlike the traditional tribal members who try to live what remains of the old ways, middle class Cherokees perceive the tribal heritage as a historic past that can be 'used' to enhance the condition of the Band. Such a pragmatic outlook has contributed to the commercialization of the Cherokee (and Indian) image on the reservation. Undoubtedly, the Eastern Cherokee middle class has benefited the most from private and tribal enterprises focusing on the Cherokee image, but also the tribe as a whole has gained from the tourist industry. 154

The third type of Cherokee family is defined in the literature as marginal: Marginal families are midway between [the conser­ vative and the middle class] and suffer the disadvantages of both. They cannot afford ,. , middle class amenities, and yet they lack the close social network of the conservatives.,.. Because their family circumstances are determined by chance ... these people often grow up with a weak self-image.... French and Hornbuckle [1976] assign most Cherokee to this marginal class with about one third being conservative and only a few mixed bloods being the middle class. They also state that all [sic] Cherokee share ambiguous feelings about just who they are and how they are supposed to behave. (Hodge 1981:127} The above characterization is, in my opinion, misleading. It is true that the majority of the Eastern Cherokees cannot afford a rural middle class standard of living, but my own observations do not support French and Hornbuckle's (cited in Hodge 1981) conclusion on the lack of identity among all, or most, tribal members. Although I do not necessarily endorse the opposite conclusion drawn by Duane King, a long-time student of the Eastern Cherokees, that today all of the Qualla Cherokees have preserved "a strong identity with a proud heritage" (King 1982:11), I agree that the last decade has been marked by a growing awareness among the Eastern Cherokees about their tribal heritage and unique identity. In any event, it seems contradictory to classify moat of the tribal population as 'marginal' to the other two cate­ gories who represent the tribal minority. Indeed, 155

'margins11ty* as a family typology does not recognize that these Indians are involved in a variety of ways in tribal and local community life despite the often serious problems such as alcoholism, unemployment, and family violence that affect modern reservation life (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:51-65}. As I indicated earlier, perhaps the term 'socio­ logical mixed-bloods' better defines the majority of the Eastern Cherokees. As MacGregor (1946) employed it, the term applies to those tribal members who, regardless of blood quantum, are clearly acculturated in terms of language, social behavior, religion, moral code, and the like. Still, many sociological mixed-bloods maintain a sense of their tribal identity which they display on special occasions, such as the Cherokee Fall Festival, or for more pragmatic purposes, such as the promotion of and participation in the seasonal tourist industry centered around the Cherokee Indian 'image complex'. Conversely, the sociological full-bloods have maintained a closer identity with traditions. At Eastern Cherokee I have met a number of tribal members who, while they are biologically mixed-blood, identify themselves with the conservative, traditional segment of the Band; the term full-blood is herein used sociologically for those tribal members who, regardless of their blood quantum, are traditionally oriented. 156

As with the above typologies, the characterization of the seven Eastern Cherokee communities has been dis­ cussed in the literature. Generally speaking, each community has been defined according to the local predominance of one of the three types of families; this criterion, however, does not seem to be a useful one, for the same reasons previously discussed. Using the sociological full-blood/mixed-blood dichotomy the communities of Birdtown, Cherokee (Yellowhill), Painttown, Soco and Big Y (Wolfetown) would fall under the latter category, whereas Big Cove and Snowbird belong to the former. The Snowbird community, located some eighty miles west of Cherokee, is made up of enrolled tribal members of Graham and Cherokee counties. Like the Big Cove people on the Qualla Boundary, the Snowbird Cherokees are known for being mostly full-blood, traditional Cherokees (Neely 1979; Gil Jackson personal communication 1983). Snowbird Cherokees, particularly the elderly, still speak the Atali dialect of the ancient Overhill division of the tribe, the same dialect today spoken by the Oklahoma Cherokees (compare Hodge 1981:121- 123 for a description of the Eastern Cherokee communities based on French and Hornbuckle*s typology). The total number of enrolled members of the Eastern Band is 8,822. Some 6,971 tribal members reside on the Eastern Cherokee reservation; about 5,000 on the Qualla 157

Boundary and the remaining are divided between Snowbird, Cherokee County, and the other small tribal holdings. According to tribal estimates, some 2,800 enrolled members of the Band reside permanently off the reserva­ tion (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1982} . They remain politically disenfranchised as long as they do not live on the reservation. Phenotypically, most of the Eastern Cherokees are predominantly Indian, although it is not uncommon to see enrolled members with white features such as blond hair and blue eyes. This is the result of intermarriage with whites, relatively common in the early decades of this century, and the presence on the tribal rolls of many so-called 'five dollar Indians', people and their descendants who enrolled in the Band in the mid-1920s by paying a $5.00 fee (see Hodge 1981:118-120). In the last three decades, the overall Indian blood quantum of the Eastern Cherokee population has been on the increase as a result of a shift in inter-racial marriage patterns; tribal members now tend to marry more within the tribe, or to marry Indians from other tribes rather than whites. Tribal estimates indicate that the population of the Eastern Band continues to grow while the land base and its economic potential remain basically unchanged. Solutions to these problems involve long-range planning which are today made even more difficult by federal 158 budget cuts and the economic crisis afflicting rural areas. The following figures give an idea of the pressing population growth facing the Eastern Cherokees:

TABLE 2 EBCI RESIDENT POPULATION, 1975-2025

Year 1975 1980 1985 1990 2000 2025 Population 5,000 5,971 6,400 7,000 8,000 10,000 (Source; Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:48)

These are reservation residents. Tribal membership already approaches the top figure, and the fact that so many tribal members seek employment off the reservation reflects the serious economic needs of the Band and the extent of population pressure on tribal lands. The unemployment rate on the Boundary is about 20 percent in the summer months and it almost doubles in the off-tourist season (Bureau of Indian Affairs 1985a:8), Not only is the population growing, but it is also showing a crucial shift in terms of an increasing number of tribal members reaching and surpassing 55-60 years of age. Reflecting a pattern present among other Indian tribes, and throughout the nation as a whole, the Eastern Cherokees are going to face, for the first time in their modern history, the presence on the reservation of an ever growing number of elderly persons. 159

In addition to the problems of land and housing shortages, lack of stable and permanent employment for many tribal members, the Eastern Cherokees are now confronted with the social, economic and human issues associated with the aging of an unprecedented number of reservation residents. No longer are they just a relatively few beloved men and honored grandmothers occupying positions of leadership and guidance within the tribe, but literally hundred of senior citizens whose needs and potentials have not yet been fully understood,.

Senior Citizens; A Demographic Profile Older American Indians have only recently attracted the attention of social scientists and federal and state agencies which deal with aging. The recency of this concern and the limited resources available to most tribes to conduct thorough assessments of the status and needs of their elderly have resulted in a general lack of information on older American Indians (Block 1979:185). However, thanks to the active role of the National Indian Council on Aging (NICOA) more research has been conducted in recent years, In 1981 NICOA completed the first 'nationwide' survey on the social, economic, and medical status and needs of older Indians. This study produced a national profile of the Indian elderly (NICOA 1981) based on data collected 160

among 19 tribes and 4 Alaskan Native villages. Despite the up-to-date character of the data gathered, the representativeness of this study is somewhat hampered by the relatively small number of tribes and communities surveyed (see NICOA 1981:22). Among the tribes that were not included in the survey was the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians; hence, in the following pages, I will draw a tentative demographic profile of the Band's elderly population. Concern with up-to-date population figures on older Eastern Cherokees, and older Indians in general, is not merely academic in nature. A recent study conducted by the National Indian Council on Aging con­ cluded that: Tribes and Indian organizations have been seriously hampered by the lack of accurate data which could serve as a basis for developing or modifying programs and policies. Scientific documentation of the cur­ rent status of Indian elderly is almost non-existent, as are data on the nature and effectiveness of the service delivery system vis-a-vis the elderly population. (NICOA 1981:5) Furthermore, NicOA pointed out that "unless accurate population [data] is obtained, it will be impossible to determine the extent to which problems and needs of the Indian elderly exist in terms of the actual number of persons affected" (NICOA 1981:33). In defining the size of the EBCI elderly population I found discrepancies between the estimates of the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA), the EBCI Enrollment office, and 161

those of the EBCI Senior Citizens Center. According to the BIA (1985) there are 702 Eastern Cherokees age 65 and older, in a resident Indian population on the reserva­ tion of 6,110. Since the BIA also provides longitudinal figures on the local/tribal and total/national elderly Indian population its data are herein presented to show both the contemporary size of the Eastern Cherokee population age 65 and older, the corresponding total EBCI resident membership, and their relative increase over the last decade. Estimates of the overall number of elderly American Indians and the total U.S. Indian population for the same years offer data for comparison:

TABLE 3 ELDERLY AMERICAN INDIANS, 1973-1984 Eastern Band Total U.S.

Year 65 & Over All Ages 65 & Over All Ages 1973 297 4,940 25,820 542,900 1977 376 5,729 37,900 648,700 19.79 427 5,925 34,887 681,213 1981 390 5,664 44,715 734,895 1983 424 5,971 46,190 755,201 1984 702 6,110 46,828 786,019 (Source : Bureau of Indian Affairs 1973, 1977, 1980, 1982a 1983, 1985.) 162

Note that the BIA uses the 65 and over threshold in its tables even though federal legislation aimed at older Indians stresses the 60 and older definition of elderly. In any event, these figures provide a clear indication of the significant increase in the total elderly Indian population which has nearly doubled over the last decade. For the Eastern Cherokees specifically, the estimates are as impressive in terms of the growth of the elderly population for the same period. This increase, both at the national/Indian and local/Cherokee level reflects a relatively longer life expectancy, the 'aging' of the 50- 54 and 55-59 age groups and, as far as the Eastern Cherokees are concerned, a back to the reservation migration pattern among some retired tribal members who formerly resided off-reservation (Eastern Band of Chero­ kee Indians 1974:41; j. Long, personal communication 1983). Over two decades ago, the Eastern Cherokee Tribe had come to the realization that some kind of tribal program was needed to address the needs of a growing number of aged tribal members. From this concern, in 1967 the Tribe instituted a pioneering nutritional and social program for Indian and non-Indian senior citizens resid­ ing on the Qualla Boundary. In order to apply for federal and state financial support the Tribe had to define the target population in terms of age eligibility requirements which under the Older Americans Act of 1965 were set at a 163 minimum age of 60, and at least 75 tribal members were in that category. The Eastern Band met these requirements. As the program developed, the '60 and older' definition of eligibility for services under the senior citizens program acquired social significance in regarding as 'elders' all those older tribal members who participated in, or were eligible for, the new program. Thus, unlike the BIA, the Tribe uses the 60 and older threshold in its definition of senior citizen. In terms of sheer numbers, Eastern Cherokee senior citizens occupy an important place in the demographic structure of the Band. According to figures of the EBCI Enrollment Office (1982), of a total membership of 8,822 some 1,149 (a little over 13 percent) fall under the senior citizen definition; of these, 519 are men and 630 are women. These figures, however, need to be analyzed in terms of on and off-reservation residents, as illustrated in the following table:

TABLE 4 ENROLLED MEMBERS OF THE EBCI, 1982

Senior Citizens (60 & Older) All Ages On Res Off“Res Tot. On Res. Off-Res. Male 270 249 519 2,994 1,362 Female 330 300 630 2,977 1,489 Total 600 549 1,149 5,971 2,851 (Source: Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1982) 164

Almost half of the enrolled senior citizens do not reside on the reservation, thus reducing the number of elderly tribal members of direct concern to the tribe to some 600 senior citizens. Compared with the BIA figures for 1984, the EBCI Enrollment Office's (1982) data suggest a clear discrep­ ancy between the two sources. The inconsistency is even clearer when compared with the next set of data I was provided with by the administrative assistant of Tsali Manor in 1983; they show a total elderly population of 696 concentrated mostly in the five townships on the Qualla Boundary, The figures of the 1980 Census are included here for comparison as another indication of the problems and discrepancies in gathering and presenting accurate statistics on older American Indians:

TABLE 5 EBCI SENIOR CITIZENS ON RESERVATION, 1983 Senior U.S. Census, 19 80 Township Citizens (60 and Older) Painttown 107 Wolfetown 143 Jackson County 176

Big Cove 87

Birdtown 146 • Yellowhill 136 Swain County 285 3,200 Acres 19 Snowbird 56 Cherokee, Graham Counties 32 EBCI Total 696 Three Counties Total 493 (Source: Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1982; U.S. Census 1980) 165

The differences between the 1980 Census and the Senior Citizens Center's (1983) estimates are considerable; this issue however remains unresolved. To complete the demographic profile of the senior citizens residing on the reservation it is necessary to look at their relative distribution by age clusters, or cohorts. The only detailed data on the age cohorts of the EBCI population are those of the tribal Enrollment Office (1982). The analysis of age clusters is important as it reveals the composite age characteristics of the EBCI elderly population:

TABLE 6 EBCI SENIOR CITIZENS: AGE CLUSTER DISTRIBUTION, 1982

Age Male Female (M+F) % of Total EBCI 60-64 80 96 (176) 2.93 65-69 73 98 (171) 2.85 70-74 53 62 (115) 1.92 75-79 40 35 ( 75) 1.25 80-84 16 23 ( 39) 0.65 85-89 3 8 ( 11) 0.18 90-94 4 6 ( 10) 0.17 95-99 1 2 ( 3) 0.05

100 + -- - - Total 270 330 (600) ,10.00 (Source: Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1982) 166

For purposes of computing the percentages of each age cluster with respect to the total EBCI resident Indian population, the latter was adjusted to 6,000. That the total number of senior citizens comes to exactly 600 is a mere coincidence. The figures of the age clusters of the senior citi­ zens are important not only from a demographic perspective, to assess trends in life expectancy and the nature and extent of projected services to the elderly, but also from a socio-cultural point of view. By linking the relative dates of birth to the corresponding stages in Eastern Cherokee history we can better understand the statements of the senior citizens with regard to the enculturation process, the persistence of certain traditional traits, the use of the Cherokee language, and other socio­ cultural patterns discussed in the pages to follow. The age cluster distribution shows that 90 percent of the senior citizens are between 60 and 79 years of age, and only 10 percent of the elderly is 80 years old or older. The data are also indicative of the age threshold represented by the 85-89 cohort, particularly for the male segment which is half as numerous as the female counterpart. The higher female ratio in the extreme age clusters is consonant with the overall larger number of female senior citizens (55 percent} overall elderly males (45 percent), and it reflects the longer life expectancy 167 of Eastern Cherokee women, circa 70 years as compared with 67 for the men. Both are still below the national average of 73 years (see Hacker 1983:29-33), The other fact revealed by the cohort distribution figures is that the present-day population of Indian elderly was born before the revised Baker Roll of 1928 came into effect. Precisely 10 percent of the senior citizens were born before 1900, and the other 90 percent between 1900 and 19 25, prior to the sudden increase in tribal membership caused by the BIA-approved Baker Roll that was prepared because of plans for allotment of Eastern Cherokee lands. Prior to 1928, the EBCI tribal membership was predominantly fu11-blood and traditionally oriented (Harris 1906:291-292). The revised Baker Roll raised the tribal membership from around 2,000 to about 3,100 as a result of the inclusion of hundreds of mixed- bloods and people with minimal Indian inheritance who had successfully filed for enrollment by paying a five dollar fee. It is common opinion among many Eastern Cherokees that "many names would ... be removed [from the tribal roll] if the list were scrutinized for eligibility" (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:16). The fact that today's senior citizens are from pre- 1928 generations corroborates the testimonies of many elderly Eastern Cherokees about the socio-cultural environment of their childhood and adolescence. It was 168

characterized, as they recalled, by the exclusive use of the Cherokee language in the home; the extended composi­ tion of the household, with grandparents or other aged relative sharing the same roof with younger generations; the subsistence nature of their agricultural economy, and a diet based largely on traditional native foods; the active role of old Indian doctors and shamans and the widespread use of native pharmacopeia in curing illness and disease; the rituals associated with the stick-ball game; and the work brigades, gadugi. Conversely, older Indians also share memories of the difficulties adjusting to the white man's schools, where it was forbidden to speak Cherokee, A traditional elder recalled the increased need for money and the conflict over land as "them white Indians moved in[side the Boundary]”. Another senior citizen, at the time the youngest child of a large Indian family, remembered the shortage of food during the Depression; "people from Cherokee would go into Gatlinburg ... to get meat, to get lard, there was none in Cherokee in such a hard time here." Many aged Indians also recalled the controversy that surrounded the creation of the National Park and the development of the tourist industry on the reserva­ tion, Conservative Indians were unwilling to sacrifice their already small land base to be used by mixed-bloods and the BIA for purposes other than family farming. 169

Iti such a context, the relative homogeneity of the elderly Eastern Cherokee population, whose age cohorts encompass four decades, comes into focus. It helps us understand why, today, the senior citizens can still be looked at as a homogeneous group on a reservation that has been characterized as socially, culturally and economically diversified. While it is difficult to pre­ dict what will be the characteristics of the next generation of tribal elderly, it appears that the present one has led the way in the process of adaptation to modern reality without losing the substantial features of tribal identity and culture. Modernization has reduced some of the traditional roles of the aged, but the survi­ val of the Eastern Cherokees has guaranteed that "those whose hair has turned gray'* will continue to find their place in the fabric of Cherokee life.

Roles and Functions Today Traveling westward from Asheville to Cherokee on US 19, one enters the Qualla Boundary through Soco Gap, the mountain pass leading to a winding and steep descent into the bottomlands of Soco. This community, which is part of Wolfetown, takes its name from the homonymous creek that, running parallel to the road, cuts across the lower section of the Boundary until its confluence with the Oconaluftee River in Painttown, During the summer 170 tourist season Soco greets the visitor with a string of busy motels and amusement areas, flashing lights and signs that reflect the resort-like look and atmosphere of this part of the reservation. As a result of the dependency of Wolfetown township on the tourist industry and because of the terrain, much of the Soco population is concentrated on the bottomlands stretching on both sides of the high­ way. From mid-April to early October the local motels and shops, many of which are Indian operated, are congested with tourists, like the rest of the Boundary. However, in the fall and winter months, motels and shops shut down and the quiet returns. Soco community is the second largest on the Boundary with some 900 enrolled EBCI residents, plus about a dozen Indians from other tribes and some 40 white residents. The socio-cultural characteristics of Soco community are composite and reflect the heterogeneous nature of the local population. As Hodge (1981:122) pointed out, none of the population clusters of Wolfetown "can be defined by the degree of Indian blood ... people ranging from full bloods to five-dollar Indians [phenotypically white] are scattered equally among the [communities]". It was within such a context that on my second visit to Cherokee in the winter of 1982, I first became acquainted with the diverse roles and functions of the senior citizens in modern reservation life. I also realized later that my family's 171 presence on that first stay in Cherokee was instrumental in eliciting not only the sympathy and cooperation of the elderly, but also initiated responses that helped me gain a better understanding of the issues concerning the elderly members of the Eastern Band. I relate the following to clarify my statement. I arrived with my wife and daughter in Soco late one evening and checked in at one of the few motels that remain open in the winter. In the office, after a few introductory words, the elderly Indian woman assisting us emphasized that in the off-tourist season there was "little going on at Qualla," wondering about our presence there. I explained that the purpose of my visit was to request permission from the Council to conduct a study of the elderly in contemporary reservation life. I added that I had an appointment with the Principal Chief scheduled for the next morning. I also explained about my ethnic background to which the old woman replied that she had met many foreign tourists but never an Italian before. Her late husband had fought in Italy during the war; when she was younger, she said, she wondered what Europe was like, and even thought of visiting it "but never got around to." As for my project, she confirmed that the next day there was a Tribal Council meeting in Cherokee, and the Chief would be there. She also advised me to go to Tsali Manor, referring me to a number of 172 senior citizens she knew well and who could be of assis­ tance in my study. It being late, we agreed to continue our conversation the following day; also, since my child was suffering from strep throat and her medication had to be kept refriger­ ated she kindly offered to assist us in whatever we needed, and to baby-sit her the next day when ray wife and I went to 'downtown' Cherokee. "I'm watching the [grand] children, two boys and the girl; my son and his wife went to Asheville for business ... I help around, there's always something to do for an old grandma like myself. Sometimes I feel very tired, the boys wear me out; well, I don't mind it, I get bored doing nothing." As it turned out, we did not leave our child with her for fear she might pass her infection on to the other children. Yet ray being there with my family helped in establishing a more informal, cordial rapport with the Eastern Chero­ kees . Family was indeed an important topic of discussion during my meeting with Chief Crowe and his assistant. And, because of ray child, we were introduced to Lloyd Carl Owle, director of the Cherokee chapter of Save the Children, and to Gilliam Jackson of the Cherokee Child and Family Services, who at the time also served as the Chief's Advisor oh elderly affairs. At Tsali Manor we, as a visiting family, drew the curiosity and attention 173 of the senior citizens. When I returned alone to Chero­ kee to conduct my research I was surprised at the number of senior citizens who asked me about my family and my child in particular. "She must be missing you," commented a Big Cove elder as he passed around to other senior citizens a photo of my daughter I carried with me. I replied that her gradmother who lived near us was making up for my absence, to which the old Indians present answered with a smile whispering a few words in Cherokee I did not understand. Traditionally, the extended family, the lineage, and the clan played an important role in the life of older tribal members. Today, lineages and clans are no longer viable kinship units, and have retained only relative cultural significance, particularly among the elderly. The extended family, however, although less common than in the past,still performs its integrative functions among the Eastern Cherokees. Since social gerontologists have shown that "the status of the aged will be high where emphasis is on the extended family" (Munsell 1972:127), I will now attempt to illustrate to what extent the same is applicable to the Eastern Cher­ okees . The average Eastern Cherokee family tends to be larger than the average white American one, with about 174

four persons in the former and about three in the latter (U.S. Census 1980, 35:214-216). These figures are consonant with other estimates showing that American Indian families are generally larger than the national average (see Williams, G. 1980:103-106). For American Indians in general, and Eastern Cherokees in particular, a larger family size reflects both the presence of more than one child and/or the inclusion of aged relatives in the same household. Unfortunately, no detailed study has yet been conducted to assess the changing patterns of residential or household conposition among American Indians in the 1980s. Most available data refer to the 1970s and are clearly out-of-date. Figures from the 1980 Census are, as far as American Indians are concerned, unreliable and remain the subject of controversy between tribes and the Census Bureau; a recent meeting between tribal representatives and census officials has set the stage for closer cooperation to seek more accuracy in 1990 (Bureau of Indian Affairs 1985b:3-4). At the time of this research, the EBCI Tribal Planning Office was in the process of reviewing the 1980 Census data, and no up-to-date information on residential patterns was avail­ able. The following table, based on my interviews and information provided by the Senior Citizens Center, shows the family composition for about one hundred senior citizens: 175

TABLE 7 SENIOR CITIZENS AND HOUSEHOLD COMPOSITION

Living Arrangements Senior Citizens M F (M+F) Alone 11 8 C 19) With Spouse (only) 18 16 ( 34) Self with Married Son or Daughter (+ Grandchildren) 7 15 ( 22) Self with Unmarried Son or Daughter (+ Grandchildren) 6 13 ( 19) Self with Other Relative 3 1 ( 4) Total 45 53 ( 98)

Although these figures refer to only about one- sixth of the resident elderly population they provide an indication of the overall character and trends under­ lining the family environment of today's senior citizens. First, the data reveal the composite nature of the senior citizens’ living arrangements. These are in turn a reflection of the diversification in family type characteristic of modern social organization on the Qualla Boundary. Household composition may vary from a newly-wed, one generation domestic family, to single (unmarried, divorced or separated) parents, to "extended domestic families" (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974: 54) with up to four generations under the same roof; such a range in household composition is also typical 176 elsewhere In Indian America (Williams, G. 1980; Amoss 1981a; Ann Renker, personal communication 1985} . Specifically, more than half of the senior citizens in the survey reported living alone (n=19) or with spouse only (n=*34), an overall larger number than expected. However, upon further conversations with, and visits to, tribal elderly living alone or with their spouse, their relative isolation was to be reconsidered. In most cases these senior citizens have relatives or friends living nearby or "down the road" as they commonly put it. The self-contained nature of the tribal community acts to counterbalance the predominantly scattered (rural-type) residential patterns on the reservation. This too, however, is slowly changing, as tribally subsidized apartment complexes are being developed, bringing more people closer together and giving a suburban look to what was until a few years ago open mountain land. Most elderly persons living alone or with their spouse also have brothers and sisters, other relatives, children and grandchildern scattered throughout the reservation. The established patterns of visiting, dropping by, meeting at the grocery store, bank, post office, at Sunday's and Wednesday's services, or at the local community club meetings compensate for residential isolation. Indeed, it may seem somewhat surprising that. 177 despite its appearance of isolation, the 'closed' nature of the Qualla community provides for more social interaction among the tribal elderly than that experienced, for example, by most elderly white Americans in both urban (Clark and Anderson 1967; Levin and Levin 1980) and rural (Youmans 1967} settings. The other feature reflected by the data is the diverse character of multi-generational living arrange­ ments of the respondents. About 40 percent (n=41) of the senior citizens in the survey live in three or four generation households, with a surprisingly high number of older people (n=19) sharing the same roof with the children of their single-parent son or daughter. Older women (n=13) are twice as likely as older men (n=6) to share this situation. Closer scrutiny revealed that under the category 'unmarried son or daughter' the senior citizens recognized a variety of personal situations such as divorced, separated, or unwed adults and their children with whom they live. According to an earlier study, at Eastern Cherokee "fewer husbands and wives percentage wise are living together than in the state and the nation, and the percentage of Cherokees that are separated is twice as high as that of the nation" (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:53). The presence of problems in the marital life of young and middle aged Cherokees, and 178

American Indians in general, is a pervasive and complex one stemming from a combination of historical, socio­ economic and cultural factors. Alcohol abuse is a symptom of the overall problem, and it becomes in turn a major cause of the hardships experienced by many Indian families. Within such a difficult context elderly relatives, usually grandparents, play an important parental role for Indian children and a much needed socio-economic function that provides not only some financial security but also important emotional stability for their grandchildren. In this respect, I agree with G. Williams that, as an element of stability for troubled families "the old are more important today than they were in the past" (1981:105), when the overall tribal socio­ cultural system and the wider kinship network guided the enculturation process and provided a safety-net for the individual. Interestingly, it would seem that among the Eastern Cherokees the traditional matrifocal aspects of the household have been maintained to this very day in the case of extended, multigenerational families. It is however difficult to conclude that this persistence is the result of cultural conservatism alone, or that since "residence has many matrifocal features" (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:54) the old clan system is still viable. Instead, more pragmatic reasons may explain why 179 older women are likely to be included in extended house­ holds twice as often as elderly men. First, by sheer sex ratio, elderly women outnumber older men on the Qualla Boundary; thus there are simply more of them around. Second, and most importantly, are the domestic roles and functions of aged females to make their presence valuable and even at times indispensable in many Indian households. The following statement is perhaps indicative of the simple yet basic domestic functions performed by elderly Indian women in modern reservation life: We moved to this new home four years ago, when my youngest son was born. We [hé and his wife] both worked ,.. we needed someone to help out with the kids; cooking, cleaning, all that. For a while my sister helped us out, 'till shè got a job. Then my wife's mother moved in ...; it was hard at first, you know, old folks are set in their old ways. But I got used to it. Yeh, grandma is a big help, 'specially now [during the tourist season] that we keep the shop open late at night. It would be hard ... without her help. In another testimony, an elderly Indian woman expressed her sorrow for the problems experienced by her son's family. Her son, she said, had drinking problems; he quarrelled with his wife's uncle and lost his job. His drinking got worse; he eventually ended up in jail for driving while intoxicated and had to pay a fine. He borrowed money from his mother, separated from his wife and two sons and went to live with the elderly woman who had recently become a widow. Upon his elderly mother's suggestion the young man sought counseling and through a 180

relative's recommendation got a part-time job on the reservation. As things seemed to get better, husband and wife were reconciled through the old woman's mediation; it was agreed that the old woman move in with the couple and the children. The situation however soon worsened and the young man started drinking again. While 'grandma' remained with her daughter-in-law, "a good woman and a good mother" in her own words, her son left and went to live at his mother's old house. Recognizing that her daughter-in-law is doing her best to keep the family together and raise the children on her modest income, the old woman contributes to this broken family's economy with her social security money. She also takes care of the house garden and looks after her grandchildren, does whatever house chores her health enables her to do and, that summer, her presence in the house enabled her daughter-in-law to work full-time in a tourist related business. Like many other Eastern Cherokee families, this one also draws most of its yearly income from a full five month employment in the tourist industry. Besides her limited economic contri­ bution, the aged woman's presence in the home provides both the children and the young woman with much needed emotional support and a sense of relative stability in the hope that her son "[will] stop drinking and come back home to his family." 181

Another important contribution of the elderly to the welfare of the Cherokee family, and one that was over­ looked in my initial survey'but was eventually brought to my attention, is foster parenting. Informal adoption of children is not new among the Indian elderly on the reservation, some of whom were themselves raised by aged relatives due to the absence of their natural parents. Until recently, however, state courts had jurisdiction over foster care placement of Indian children, who were often removed from the Indian community and placed in non-Indian households. Since the passage in 1978 of the Indian Child Welfare Act and the Child Welfare and Adoption Assistance Act of 1980, tribes have assumed jurisdiction over foster care placement, termination of parental rights, and pre-adoptive and adoptive placement (see Canby 1981:139). Under the Indian Child Welfare Act specifically in the placement of Indian children priority is given "first to the child's extended family, then to members of his or her tribe, then to Indian families generally" (Canby 1981:141). To implement the provisions of the two acts, in 1982 the Eastern Band organized The Cherokee Child and Family Services which, in cooperation with the Cherokee Boys Club and the Cherokee Children's Home provides for family counseling and therapy, role models for Indian youth, emergency foster care and other assistance to troubled 182

and stressed families. Among the senior citizens who have been actively involved in the foster care program on the reservation, the names of Lou and Charles Crowe have assumed a special significance, in light of their long-standing commitment to foster parenting and their own personal success as foster parents. This elderly couple have combined both theory and practice in pro­ moting the welfare of the reservation children providing a practical example of what "[Indian] people can do to help themselves and their children. There are a lot of children out there who need a loving family, and that's what we try to give them." Mr. and Mrs. Crowe have a long history of involvement in child welfare on the reservation. Almost two decades ago, together with other concerned tribal members they promoted the development of a local foster care system that ensured, with the assistance of the Tribal Council, the placement of Indian children in Indian foster homes. As chair­ person of the pioneering Cherokee Action Committee for Children for over ten years, Mrs. Crowe was also active at the national level in the National Foster Parents Association at whose annual meeting in 1970 she promoted the 'Indian placement' concept that was eventually incorporated in the Act of 1978. Like his wife, Mr. Crowe has long been involved in child welfare programs on the Boundary as he served for 183 many years on the local BIA Agency Social Services Committee. He has emphasized the need to implement culturally sensitive social programs for Indian people, particularly those affecting Indian children and youth in their formative years* As one of the first licensed foster-homes on the Eastern Cherokee reservation, the Crowe family has provided foster care for over twenty Indian children and long-term foster parenting to three. Recently, the Crowes were presented with the 19 85 Preel Owl Award in recognition of their dedication to the Cherokee youth. Sharing the award with them was their eldest daughter who, following her parents' example, has become directly involved in foster parenting and child and family services. A photo of this dedicated Eastern Cherokee family and an article focusing on their outstanding service to the Qualla community was featured in the tribal paper (see The Cherokee One Feather, December 11, 1985). Behind the publicity and prestige rightfully experienced by this elderly couple, and their daughter, there is a more profound reality regarding those senior citizens who contribute in a variety of ways to provide stability and continuity to the Eastern Cherokee family* In an era like the present one that devalues domestic roles and functions, the presence of an aged relative in the household, or his or her residential proximity, is 184

often the only element of domestic reliance for many Indian children and youth, as a growing number of Indian women join the men in seeking employment, or neglect, for a variety of reasons, their domestic and parental duties. If unemployed, Indian parents suffer the socio­ economic and emotional stress of their status which in turn reflects negatively on their children. Thus, parental functions are often assumed by aged relatives, usually grandparents. Like Munsell observed among the Salt River Pima, babysitting, child adoption and foster parenting are "both socially useful and valued, and ... frequently performed by people of advanced age" (1972; 131). Tribal elderly present a positive image and role model within the reservation community. Significantly, some of the domestic functions performed by elderly Eastern Cherokee carry important cultural connotations. For example, I have observed aged relatives use the Cherokee language with the very young; and even though these pre-school children may not have understood all that was said, they were exposed to the sounds of the native idiom. Once in school, children receive formal instruction in the Cherokee language and the Sequoyah Syllabary. Undoubtedly, their former exposure to the native language formal instruction in school, and the continued presence of an aged relative native speaker in the family, has contributed to 185 generating interest in the tribal language among younger tribal members, postponing if not reversing predictions about the imminent demise of the Cherokee language on the Qualla Boundary (see Peithmann 1964:132). I have seen an Indian grandmother teach her teen-age granddaughter how to fold a shawl so that the young woman could carry her infant nephew on her back in the traditional Cherokee style. I was invited in Cherokee homes for dinners based on traditional Cheorkee foods my hosts had prepared with the help of aged relatives expert in cooking with corn, beans, ramps, sochan (coneflower), and chestnuts. And, contrary to what some senior citizens had complained about, I have noted Indian youth help their aged rela-' tives out in the fields. In regard to the horticultural activities of the elderly, Mrs- Tiney Toineeta, a senior citizen in charge of the tribal cannery, pointed out that there has been an increase in the canning activities of older people and other tribal members. Particularly in the warm season, Cherokee gardens yield plenty of tomatoes, beans, and other produce. Whatever is not consumed at the moment is usually canned. Some people do their own canning at home but many, including the senior citizens, bring their products to the tribal cannery where they are charged twenty-five cents per jar, to offset maintenance costs and the purchase of material used in the canning 186 process. A senior citizen, whom I helped transport his produce to the cannery, proudly showed me his initial stock of canned jars. The elderly Indian, who lives with his married son and the couple's three children, admitted that his extended family benefited the most from his gardening and domestic canning enterprise since he regularly participates in the nutritional program at Tsali Manor. Nevertheless, he continues to care for his plot of land using his own pension to pay for new jars and canning fees. Until a few years ago, his late wife took care of much of the gardening work in the field near their old house, both now abandoned. Today, for the old Indian the little plowing, planting and harvesting provide an emotional link with the memory of his wife, life in the old log house, and a diversion in the daily routine of reservation life. Although not a substantial one from a strictly economic point of view, his contribution to the house­ hold is nevertheless important. By caring for the garden, he provides fresh produce at no cost for his family who can also rely on the old man's canned vegetables arid preserves during the winter months. While both his son and daughter-in-law are employed in a tourist related business at a time when their small plot of land needs work, every spring and summer gardening becomes the elderly man's main concern, occupation and 187

topic of discussion with other senior citizens who are themselves involved in a similar pursuit. Besides its utilitarian aspects, and despite the disappearance of the old working brigades, gardening still involves important functions in the life of today's senior citizens. It keeps them busy, provides a purpose and a means by which they contribute to their diet and that of their relatives, and perpetuates an old tribal tradition. In general, considering the low economic status of the majority of the elderly and their families on the reservation, the supplemental character of small scale farming and gardening is significant. The Tribe's agricultural extension program is providing assistance to tribal members to promote family based horticultural activities, in order to improve the often unbalanced diet of many Eastern Cherokees. Shortage of arable land is a problem, yet the Tribe encourages gardening among its members; every year a contest is held for the best gardens and senior citizens have often figured first. Reflecting the major economic change from agri­ culture to tourism as a source of family income, older tribal members have shown how it is possible to adjust to the modern reality of reservation life without sacrificing their tribal and Indian identity. Indeed, an area in which the contributions of the senior citizens, whether living alone or in extended households, have been 188 and continue to be culturally and economically very important is the preservation, revitalization and pro­ motion of traditional Cherokee arts and crafts. The impact of tourism on the Qualla Boundary has been so pervasive that the last two decades have seen a redis­ covery and growing appreciation of tribal crafts both among Indian residents and white tourists. It is true that many shops on the reservation continue to offer the naive white visitor poor quality, oriental-made 'Indian gifts and souvenirs'. On the other hand, a more serious and important trend has now been established at Eastern Cherokee largely thanks to the legacy and involvement of elderly tribal craftspersons. Early in the century, the distinctiveness of traditional Cherokee arts and crafts had been kept alive by a handful of elderly Indians. White officials and missionaries believed that the gradual assimilation of the Eastern Cherokees would also bring the disappearance of the old tribal artistic traditions. In the wake of the revaluation of tribal arts and crafts under the Indian Reorganization Act of 19 34, the Bureau of Indian Affairs through the local Eastern Cherokee agency began providing assistance to tribal artists and craftsmen. In 1946, a cooperative of Indian craftspersons, which included several older tribal craftsmen, was established on the Boundary, eventually growing into the famous 189

Qualla Arts and Crafts Mutual, Incorporated. In 1960, the Qualla Mutual opened its first cooperative sales shop, which was remodeled in 1976 at its present location near the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, adjacent to the Cherokee Ceremonial Grounds in downtown Cherokee. Long recognized as one of the most outstanding Indian owned and operated arts and crafts cooperatives in the nation, the Qualla Mutual serves both as a cooperative business enterprise and a focal point for the preservation and promotion of authentic Cherokee handicrafts and artistic traditions. As a marketing center, the cooperative has made it possible for its some three hundred members to derive much of their income from the sale of their traditional crafts (see King 1982:121), while preserving traditions that go back possibly to pre-contact times. Several of the renowned Indian craftsmen and craftswomen are senior citizens who, as a result of their employment in the cooperative, now receive social security benefits and periodic dividend and equity payments plus profits from sales that over the last five year period have totaled close to one million dollars. Most of today's Eastern Cherokee elderly crafts­ persons recall having learned and improved their skills simply by watching and imitating their own parents and grandparents who, with a few exceptions, at the time made 190 items such as baskets, pottery, wooden tools and the like to be used in their daily rural mountain life. Among the Eastern Cherokees there have been and still are many prominent elderly tribal members known for their talents and skills in traditional arts and crafts. The famous Will West Long, for example, besides serving as an informant to students of Eastern Cherokee culture and traditions, was also a skilled carver of wooden Booger dance masks (see Fogelson and Walker 1980:88-102; I have used one of Long's famous 'devil' masks in a lecture to the Smithsonian docents. The mask is part of the small Eastern Cherokee collection preserved in National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution) . Other famous mask makers were the late Deliskie Climbingbear and Sim Jeasan who, in the early 1970s, was considered by some to be the last true wood carver of traditional Cherokee masks. Both craftsmen achieved their best artistic expression and fame in their late years. As far as I could determine, original Cherokee masked dances, particularly the Booger dance, are no longer performed at Qualla. Still, carved Cherokee masks with snake, 'devil,' and other traditional motifs are produced today by Indian wood carvers for commercial purposes. Wood carving in general is a very popular occupation and a pastime for many older Indians. The names of the late Watty Chiltoskie and his brother Goingback exemplify the 191 wood carving skills and passion of many older tribal members. Carved wooden masks, gourd rattles, and tradi­ tional Cherokee weapons such as bows and arrows, blowguns and darts— still used today in contests held at Cherokee festivals and celebrations throughout the year— are made exclusively by male craftspersons (see Cantrell 1973:12-13 for a biographical sketch of the late J. Welch, an elderly tribal member renowned for his skills in making and using the blowgun). Unlike the above mentioned items, basketmaking, pottery, and beadwork have traditionally been the crafts practiced by Cherokee women; today, older Eastern Cherokee women still widely use the locally made so-called purse and shopping baskets. The more famous of the modern Eastern Cherokee basket weavers are senior citizens who play, like their predecessors, an important role in the family and tribal economy, and in the preservation of the ancient art of basket making. The names of senior basket weavers such as Alice Walkingstick, Eva Wolfe, Betty Lossiah— whom I often met at Tsali Manor— and Emma Taylor are among the many older Indian women who have achieved local and national fame and appreciation for their beautiful craftswork. Using only raw materials they personally gather in the woods and along the creeks, they produce plaited, single and doubleweave baskets of various shapes, forms and sizes according to the purpose they were 192

designed for. Natural dyes are also used because, unlike the commercial ones, they do not fade away in time. "We use honeysuckle vines, wild hemp, river cane I work mostly with splints of white oak or ash," one elderly craftswoman said who, despite her advanced age and poor eyesight, continues in the basket-making tradition she learned from her grandmother. Like most other elderly basketmakers on the Boundary she received, when still young, formal training in basket weaving techniques under the late Lottie Stamper. Regarded by many as the master of modern Cherokee basketry, Lottie Stamper was instrumental in promoting this craft as a vocational training for Cherokee girls during the post-IRA period; she served as basketry instructor at the local Indian school for almost thirty years. Today, many elderly basket weavers continue in the tradition of this important native art. During the tourist season, May to late September, some of the senior Cherokee basketmakers are employed in the Oconaluftee Indian Village as basketry demonstrators. The Oconaluftee Indian Village is a replica of an eighteenth century Cherokee village, located near the Mountainside Theatre in Cherokee, Like the Theatre, the Village is both an important source of revenue to the Tribe and an educational experience for thousands of Indian and white visitors alike {see King 1982:124). The Village provides seasonal employment to 193

tribal members, many of whom are senior citizens. Besides basketry, pottery is also presented by elderly craftswomen at the Oconaluftee Village. Unlike its ’sister craft,* traditional Cherokee pottery making had almost died out on the Qualla Boundary by the turn of this century. However, during the same period, two Catawba women from South Carolina who had been adopted by the Eastern Cherokees reintroduced pottery making at Qualla. Susan Harris Owl and Nettie Harris Owl manu­ factured Catawba pottery which they sold locally and to white dealers of Indian arts and crafts who periodically visited the reservation. As the two Catawba women had married Eastern Cherokee husbands and settled on the Boundary they inspired a new tradition of pottery making that, after a transitional period, eventually established its original Eastern Cherokee character. Today, the senior potters at the Oconaluftee village remember the names of Kamie Wahnetah, daughter of Susan Owl, Nella Arch, Maude Welch, who taught pottery at the Indian school, and the late Amanda (Rebecca Wolf) Youngdeer, an eptagenarian tribal member, perhaps the most famous of the old generation of Eastern Cherokee potters (the remarkable story of Amanda Youngdeer is the subject of a recent article by Thomas J. Blumer, 19 80), Like their predeces­ sors, most older Cherokee potters continue to keep alive the ancient coiling technique, without the use of a 194

potter’s wheel. Skilled senior potters such as Cora Wahnetah, Amanda Swimmer, and members of the Bigmeat and Welch families are an example and inspiration to those younger Indian women who see in pottery making not only a way of expressing their artistic talents but also of making a living. Beside basketry and pottery. Eastern Cherokee senior citizens produce brightly colored beadwork featuring both native Cherokee and Pan-Indian decorative elements; finger woven sashes, embroidered blankets and guilts, a craft borrowed from surrounding white Appalachian folk- art; and beautiful wood and stone carvings. Whatever the craft, many elderly tribal members have found, through the application of their creative skills and their commitment to tribal culture, a central place in modern reservation life. Their cultural and economic contribution to the family and the tribe through their arts and crafts indicates that elderly Eastern Cherokees are not a marginal segment of the reservation community but one of its invaluable components. Nor are they a vanishing element of Eastern Cherokee native arts legacy. In many instances sons and daughters, and grandchildren of famous and not so famous senior craftspersons continue today in their parents and relatives' traditions. For exançle, one talented and witty basket maker of Birdtown was 'proven wrong' by one 195

of her eight children in predicting some ten years ago that her craft would one day die out for lack of young apprentices. Indeed, one of Mrs. Emma Taylor's daughters has not only followed in her mother's footsteps but like her she is gaining local and national recognition as a basket weaver. Aunt Emma— as Mrs. Taylor is affection­ ately known on the Boundary— and her daughter were invited to the 1984 World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee, and recently featured their work and gave live basket-making demonstrations at the 19 86 American Folklife Festival sponsored by the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.c. Markedly less authentic than the senior citizens’ arts and crafts demonstrations at the Oconaluftee Indian Village, yet similarly important from an economic point of view, is the historic drama "Unto These Hills" performed during the tourist season at the Mountainside Theatre. The drama, by playwright K. Hunter "portrays the history of the Cherokees [from] the entrance of ... De Soto in Cherokee Territory in 1540 [to] the infamous Trail of Tears" (King 1982:125). Along with white actors, a number of Eastern Cherokees including some senior citizens are employed seasonally in the drama. Despite the criticism against the performance expressed by Hodge (1981:127-128), who points out how non-Indian businessmen share in the profits from the thousands of tickets sold 196 every season, I found disagreement on his view that the "drama may well have deleterious effects upon the Indian self-image" (Hodge 1981:127). Indeed, several senior citizens recommended that I attend the performance, underscoring— as one put it— "the great educational value of that play." They also noted that the sadness of historical events such as the Removal and Tsali's execution is counterbalanced by the Indian's heroic portrayal and the eventual survival of the Eastern Cherokees as a people and their success in avoiding removal. Another activity that has drawn the criticism of some tribal members and the ridicule of so-called 'purists'— particularly among students of Cherokee culture— is the colorful 'Indian chièfing' business in which every summer a dozen young and old tribal members have been engaged. They dress up in stereotypical Plains Indian costumes and stand by metal tipis or small totem poles in front of the tourist shops along the two main highways that cut across the Boundary. For a fee, which has steadily gone up since 'chiefing' started in the 1950s, they will pose for the tourist's camera and entertain white children and adults eager to experience the excitement of a 'real' Indian. My impression is that 'chiefing' has been misunderstood and often unjustly denigrated by observers more concerned with criticizing 197

its lack of authenticity than understanding the human experience behind it. Some see in 'chiefing* the ultimate denigration of the Cherokee Indian who needs to masquerade himself in order to survive economically: The Cherokees feel keenly the on-slaught of ... over eight million pleasure-seeking tourists each year who invade his reservation and gawk at him as the Native American, The astute Cherokee obliges for economic reasons and with tongue in cheek he dresses in feathers [and] ... entertains the visitors. It is, however, an affront to his way of life and although his economic situation is greatly improved, this rapid change in economy and culture has not been attained without a price, one of which is excessive use of alcohol and the resulting problems of broken families ... crime and delinquency. (Quoted in Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians 1974:51) Others, though recognizing its un-authentic character, reflect a more positive view of 'chiefing,' particularly when it is performed by older tribal members who dress up in feathers not only to earn a living but also because they enjoy the personal interaction they experience with the tourists. This was the view expressed by the famous 'Chief' Tom Jumper, a Cherokee elder who, with the assistance of his aged wife Amanda, was one of the most familiar faces in Cherokee during the 1970s. In his interview with Roy Cantrell, 'Chief' Jumper declared: I like to meet people ... I see them from all walks of life: some nice, some rough, some clean, some dirty. But I just like to meet them. I've really met some nice people. People look for this when they come to Cherokee. Some [small children] are scared ... of me until I make friends with them and they know I will not hurt them. Then they like 198

to have their picture made with me. Some come back year after year to see me, (Quoted in Cantrell 1973:6-7) Every spring, the appearance of the 'chiefs* along the highways is a reminder that the tourist season has begun. To the senior citizens who have traveled the 'deserted' roads on the SCC vans, it is a welcome sign that winter is over; 'chiefs' and senior citizens greet each other as the vans make their daily trips to Tsali Manor. I asked the elders on the Soco route what they thought of the 'chiefs'. Their opinion was generally a positive one: "They help bring business to Cherokee," remarked a senior citizen who, when I mentioned their lack of authenticity reminded me that "that's how they earn a living, ain't nothing wrong with it." Another elder recalled, with humor, that when he was younger he too supplemented his income by 'chiefing': You know, I did that too. I got a job chiefing, down in Painttown. That was almost twenty years ago ... Well, what I worked out and made, just from hand to mouth, and then from mouth into my belly, and then from there into my bottom hole. That's how it was with us Indians back in those days. Authentic or not, 'chiefing' is part of a multi­ faceted tourist industry that has seen and continues to see the direct involvement and contribution of older tribal members. 'Chiefing' was indeed started by older Indians, whose phenotypical traits, wrinkled faces, and 199 knowledge of the native language fit the Cherokee image and the 'Indian* expectations of the tourists. The symbolic connotation of 'old Indianness,' along with tribal arts and crafts, the Oconaluftee Village and the live Drama, has helped shed a positive light on older tribal members as viable elements of reservation cultural life and economy. Another area in which the senior citizens have made a substantial contribution is the transmission and maintenance of native tribal lore. Today, the role of the aged in the preservation of tribal oral traditions is difficult to assess due to the gap that exists in many Indian households between the older and younger generations which inhibits the maintenance of tribal lore in the native language, One of my informants was frustrated by the reluctance of his grandchildren to "sit quietly" and listen to his stories; My old gran'pa ... I learned'em stories from my gran'pa; he was fa] full-blooded Cherokee; he spoke no English. At night, he sat in his rock­ ing chair and smoked his pipe. We sat on the floor, quietly, waitin' for gran'pa to tell us a story. Well, that was long time ago. I think I was about seven or eight years old when gran'pa died. It ain't the same anymore; young folks won't take the time to listen ... they say they get bored; [they'd] rather watch TV [or] go to the movies in Cherokee. Nevertheless, the Eastern Cherokee oral tradition is carried on in very few Indian households. Storytelling 200

in the English language has almost completely replaced the rich native lore of the mountain Cherokees. Story­ telling is part of the curriculum at the Cherokee elementary school, and is featured publicly at the Cher­ okee Fall Festival and similar celebrations. We should not assume, however, that the tribal oral tradition died soon after James Mooney conducted his 'salvage' anthropology among the Eastern Cherokees. Recently, in fact, thanks to the efforts of anthropologist Laura King, a native Eastern Cherokee speaker from Big Cove, in cooperation with tribal elders, elements of the Cherokee oral tradition have been preserved and shared with a wider audience. Between 19 76 and 1978, Laura King collected a number of Cherokee legends from elderly story-tellers such as Golinda Hill of Big Cove, Betty Lossiah, the basket maker of Wright Creek Community in Wolfetown, John Driver of Big Y, Lula 'Nicey* Welch, Cherokee language teacher originally from Snowbird now residing in Birdtown, and Irene Squirrel Martin of Yellowhill. King presented the legends in a series of articles titled "The Cherokee Story-Teller: ..." featured in the Journal of Cherokee Studies (see King, L. 1976a, 1976b, 1977a, 1977b, 1978) , Each article provides the native text in the Sequoyah Syllabary, a phonetic transliteration and English interlinear translation, a free translation and a 201

commentary. Following this and similar examples of cooperation between researchers and tribal elders it is likely that other conscious efforts to record and pre­ serve the native oral tradition will continue to take place on the reservation. The information thus gathered will add to the native texts collected from generations of older Indians by students of Cherokee culture over the last century. As the present cohorts of senior citizens slowly pass away, the number of native story-tellers will continue to diminish, but the tools and texts of much of the tribal oral tradition will have been preserved awaiting, perhaps, a major language revitalization among the Eastern Cherokees. As is happening for native dances, songs, and music, arts and crafts, and aboriginal sports such as stickball, archery, blowgun, and running, storytelling and native oral traditions are generating interest among younger tribal members some of whom have been conducting serious ethnographic research and interviews with the senior citizens (Kathy Smith, personal communication 19 84). Whatever the course, the elderly are still the reposi­ tories of a native oral tradition that has survived, although reduced, centuries of culture contact. A much more profound change to affect the political structure of Cherokee society was the disappearance of the old gérontocratie priesthood as the leadership of the 202

tribe. As Gearing (1962) indicated, the secularization of the tribal leadership took place over two centuries ago under unprecedented historical circumstances. Later, the removal crisis led the survivors of the once powerful Kituhwa Cherokees to reorganize as the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. While the aged continued to exercise considerable influence as 'Indian doctors,' shamans, and conjurers, the new Tribal Council was secular in character. Both the Bureau of Indian Affairs, mission­ aries and educators kept tight control on the Council and the Cherokee people as a whole, encouraging them to abandon old religious beliefs and practices, and accept the secular nature of the new tribal government. Despite such a fundamental change, the ancient pattern of entrusting older tribal members with the office of Principal Chief endured. While not all the Principal Chiefs who served since 1870 were "senior citizens' by today's chronological standards, they tended to be mature or elderly adults (the Museum of the Cherokee Indian has portraits and biographical sketches of them; see also King 1982:14-21). The close association between the supreme leadership of the Band and mature age has contributed in preserving the positive connotation of old age among contemporary Eastern Cherokees, and the understanding that only a senior tribal member would have the knowledge and wisdom necessary to fulfill the duties 203

of that important office. Both the former and the present Principal Chief of the Eastern Band of Cherokees are senior citizens, and they exemplify the secular, acculturated leadership that has guided over a century of tribal affairs. If, on the one hand, the ancient rituals associated with the pre­ removal tribal leadership have disappeared— interestingly, rekindling of the new fire and smoking a seven-stem pipe have recently been reintroduced in the meetings between the Western and Eastern Cherokee— both former Chief John Crowe and current Chief Robert Youngdeer have also emphasized the need to preserve and promote the cultural heritage of the tribe. The promotion of, and appreciation for, the tribal heritage cannot, in their opinion, be divorced from economic development and should aim at the involvement of older tribal members in areas such as tourism, arts and crafts, native language and culture education, and in child and family services. Perhaps because of their own status as senior citizens both Mr. Crowe and his successor have supported the senior citizens' program and the philosophy of inter-dependence for the Band's elderly. John A. Crowe, a lifetime resident of Bigwitch community in Wolfetown, was elected Vice-Chief of the EBCX in 1971 and two years later, at fifty-six years of age, he assumed the duties of Principal Chief (see King 204

1962:20-21). Like many other Eastern Cherokees, Mr. Crowe served in World War II, returning to Cherokee after completing his military duty. Actively involved in tribal politics, he was a member of the Tribal Council during the 1950s, supporting the development of tribal enterprises connected with the tourist industry and strengthening already existing revenue-producing programs such as timber, fish and game management. Chief Crowe was instrumental in promoting tribal cultural and historical activities, including the opening of the new tribal museum and, in cooperation with the Cherokee Historical Association, the publication of the Journal of Cherokee Studies (edited by anthropologist Duane H. King) . During his ten year consecutive term as Principal Chief, John Crowe saw the growth and expansion of the senior citizens* program that culminated with the opening of the new facilities at Tsali Manor. A supporter of the senior citizens' program and a promoter of cultural revitalization is current Principal Chief Robert S. Youngdeer who replaced John Crowe in 1983. Unlike his predecessor. Chief Youngdeer belongs to the category of returned retirees as he spent much of his adult life in the service. Like other senior citizens, as a young man Chief Youngdeer saw action in the Pacific and European fronts during the war. Be served in the Marines, the regular Army, and the Bureau of Indian 205

Affairs’ Police. After his return to Cherokee he became involved in tribal affairs. Undoubtedly, his remarkable military record, which includes a long list of decorations and service medals, was instrumental in his rise to the leadership of the Band. Chief Youngdeer took office at a difficult political and economic time for the Eastern Band and Indian tribes in general, as the present administration while acknow­ ledging the rights of tribes to self-determination is also making cuts in the funding of Indian programs. Since the 1980 elections, budget cuts have had a ripple effect on tribal economies now affected by widespread unemployment. In such a climate, the Chief and the Council have focused on consolidating existing economic resources and expanding employment opportunities both in the tourist industry sector and in a new manufacturing enterprise on the reservation. The promotion of the Cherokee heritage in the region, and its associated tourist complex, remains a major source of revenue to individual Cherokee families and the tribe as a whole. In 1984, the Chief of the Eastern Band participated in the groundbreaking ceremony for the new Sequoyah Birthplace Memorial Museum in Vanore, Tennessee, The museum, completed in 1985, is owned and operated by the Tribe. It is symbolically located near the ancient Cherokee town of Tuckegee, Sequoyah’s birthplace, now covered by the waters of the Tennessee 206

river after the controversial construction of the Tellico Dam (see Matthiessen 1984) . Present at the ceremony were other tribal elders and the members of the Qualla Tradi­ tional Dancers to symbolize the continuity of a tradition begun by the ingenious Sequoyah, adopted by the Cherokee beloved men, and preserved until today by the senior citizens. In the past years, the Chief with the assistance of the senior citizens has been promoting :he Eastern Cherokees' cultural heritage throughout western North Carolina. In 1985, Chief Youngdeer appeared on a local TV network to promote the Nikwasi Mound Celebration held annually in the white town of Franklin. Accompanying the Chief was Eastern Cherokee elder Richard *Geet' Crowe, who performed the revived Cherokee Horse Dance in front of the cameras, This reaching out policy has both an economic and a cultural goal. In the last four years, the Eastern Cherokees have been actively engaged with white officials of neighboring towns in organizing festivals, celebrations, and other social and cultural activities. In strictly economic terms, the Cherokee participation of off- reservation events serves to promote tribal arts and crafts, tourism, and potential business ventures on the reservation. The appreciation for and marketing of tribal products, handicrafts and commercial Indian souvenirs produced in Cherokee brings much needed income to the 207

Indian family and, of course, the elderly. Senior citi­ zens are often invited as guest artists, native singers, and storytellers in towns near the Eastern Cherokee reservation. From a cultural point of view, breaking the isolation allows the Eastern Cherokees to enhance the Cherokee Indian identity as a viable element of North Carolina's heritage, while giving younger tribal members pride in their identity and, hopefully, the will to suc­ ceed in life as Indians, as many of their grandparents have. Tribal revival was the theme of the historic reunion of the Western (Oklahoma) and Eastern (North Carolina) Cherokee Tribes held for the first time in 146 years in 1984, and held since annually. Chief Youngdeer and tribal elders have been actively involved in these events which are characterized by a strong commitment to the revitalization of the tribal heritage as a key element of the two tribes' future (see my discussion in Chapter V). An assessment of the roles of the aged in the contem­ porary political and social life of the Eastern Band would not be complete without mentioning the outstanding figure of Maggie Wachacha, an eptagenarian tribal member who is regarded as a true, living symbol of the ancient Cherokee beloved grandmothers. She was born in 1894 in a tradi­ tional household and grew up speaking only Cherokee until well into her teens. Like many other Indians of her 208 generation she also became literate in the Sequoyah Syllabary which she often used to keep notes and records on native pharmacopeia. 'Aunt' Maggie has been known among Indians and whites alike as a skilled midwife, 'doctor,' and a herbalist using the ancient tribal medicine. She was also employed as a native language teacher for both children and adult Cherokees. Perhaps more remarkable is that almost half a century ago at age 43 she started working for the Council as a clerk. Since 19 37 Màggie Wachacha has been transcribing into the Sequoyah Syllabary the Tribal Council's meetings, and served as an informal advisor to six principal chiefs. Her presence on the Council and in tribal affairs is reminiscent of the advisory role of the ancient beloved women of the Cherokees, Indeed, in recognition of her outstanding service to her people, Maggie Wachacha has been officially given the title of "Beloved Woman" by the Eastern Cherokees, the only living senior citizen to hold such an honorable status. While there are obvious, substantial differences between the aboriginal high priest and today's principal chief, and the beloved woman of yore and the venerable 'Aunt' Maggie, the symbolic continuity is there both in terms of comparable roles and functions, and the positive status of the aged in contem­ porary tribal life. 209

The presence in the formal leadership of the Band of two distinguished senior citizens is also instrumental in guaranteeing that the needs of elderly tribal members receive prompt and sympathetic consideration. In a closely integrated community such as the Qualla Boundary the senior citizens maintain a direct line of communication with the Chief and the Council. Although the tribal elderly are no longer organized as clan representatives like the ancient beloved men, the Senior Citizens Advisory Council acts as the official of the reservation's elderly. That the senior citizens are a central element of tribal life, despite their generally circumspect ways, and a priority of the official tribal agenda is reflected in a recent action of the Council which is both practical and symbolic toward older tribal members. The establishment of a tribally franchised bingo game on the Qualla Boundary has recently boosted the tribal economy. Because of the year-round attendance at the games with many whites coming from neighboring towns, a number of motels, restaurants and shops that would have otherwise shut down in the winter, now stay open to cater to both Indian and white players and visitors, In 1984 and 1985, Cherokee Bingo operations averaged a net total of about half a million dollars. In addition to the tribal members employed as floor workers, cashiers, concession workers and security personnel, the senior 210

citizens have also begun to benefit directly from the bingo operation. In 1985, the Chief and the Council endorsed the distribution of some $100,000 from the bingo franchise to the reservation's senior citizens in the form of Christmas checks. The appreciation of the tribal elderly was expressed publicly in an open letter to the Chief and the Council published in the tribal paper. The note reads: "A GREAT BIG THANKS: We Senior Citizens of Cherokee would like to say *a great big thanks' to the Chief and Council members for the generous check we received for Christmas" (The Cherokee One Feather, 8 January 19 86). The checks are another example of the Cherokee People's commitment to their elderly, and an indication of the modern ways in which the aged participate in the 'harvesting' of the Band's common enterprise. While bingo is often the subject of outside (state and federal) pressures, and inside tribal factional disputes, it appears that in this case the senior citizens have come out ahead. This episode reflects the growing role played by the Tribe in addressing the needs of the senior citizens. The Tribe's involvement in elderly affairs has grown steadily over the last decade, and it is likely to continue as the elderly population increases. 211

Tsali Manor and the Senior Citizens' Program In 1967 the Tribe began to operate a program for the elderly in the facilities of the Civic Center in downtown Cherokee. Prior to that date, small groups of senior citizens gathered regularly at someone's home in various communities. The problems of the Tribe’s elderly soon came to the attention of the Council, which decided to begin a comprehensive program for older tribal members. A variety of reasons contributed to the development of the initial program. The lack of stable employment on the reservation and the BIA's relocation assistance program had led many young and adult Indians away from Cherokee, leaving behind aged parents and relatives. Although many elderly Indians still lived in extended households, an increasing number of old people were experiencing poor living conditions, isolation, and even hunger. The scattered nature of the reservation's communi­ ties, poor economic conditions, lack of sanitation, and an often insufficient diet had many elderly Cherokees in need of an urgent relief program. As the services got underway, initially only a handful of old people were able to commute daily to downtown Cherokee for the free warm meal. By the mid-1970s, approximately ninety senior citizens were involved in the program which focused on providing nutritional, escort, and social services to 212 older tribal members. Older Eastern Cherokees living in Snowbird community and nearby tribal lands were eligible to participate in nutritional programs for senior citizens in the white towns of Andrews and Murphy, North Carolina (Frell M, Owl, letter to Indian Council on Aging, 1977) . In the summer of 1976, a delegation of elderly Eastern Cherokees attended the First National Indian Conference on Aging held in Phoenix under the auspices of the National Tribal Chairmen's Association (NTCA) . The Conference, which drew together in a historic meeting the elders of hundreds of tribes and Alaskan Native communi­ ties, generated a great deal of awareness and concern about the needs of older American Indians. Largely as a result of the Conference's resolutions and recommendations, both the tribes and the federal government began to actively address the more pressing problems facing older Indians. At Eastern Cherokee, a preliminary survey of the local elderly population, showed that more than half of the some 350 senior citizens (age 60 and older) lived in substandard housing, needed nutritional and medical assistance, and would greatly benefit from a comprehensive program of nutritional, social and other care (J. Long, personal communication 1983). As the senior citizens' program at the Civic Center continued to grow, it became apparent that a new facility was needed to adequately serve 213

an increasing number of elderly participants. The Tribe thus began the construction of a new Senior Citizens' Center that would include a large luncheon room, a first aid station, offices, and separate apartment units for those elderly in need of adequate housing. The rationale for engaging in the development of the new senior citizens' facility was summarized by a tribal spokesman as follows: Well, let's put it this way; many of the old folks you've met at Tsali Manor can tell you stories of those who ran up to the mountains to escape removal, and those who walked their way back home from Oklahoma. Now, the senior citizens are a living link with our past, a past we cannot afford to forget. Tsali Manor ... is a project that brought us together as a People; you'll hear different stories here in Cherokee, but on one thing we all agree: the old folks are first priority! The Senior Citizens' Center was completed in 1978, the year of the 140th anniversary of the Removal and the death of old Tsali. During a somewhat emotional ceremony, the Center was dedicated to honor the memory of Tsali and an expression of the Tribe's commitment to honor and provide for its elders. The symbolic and emotional significance of the name given to the Center can hardly be overestimated, as memories and feelings about the Removal and its aftermath are very strong among many Eastern Cherokees, particularly older tribal members. Tsali Manor is in many ways a symbol of the determination and struggles of the North Carolina Cherokees to hold on to their beloved lands and maintain their Indian and tribal identity. 214

The senior citizens who congregate daily at Tsali Manor stated very clearly that the old man who fell under the firing squad is an important symbol for the Cherokee people: "It's hard to believe what the English [sic] soldiers did to our People. Old Tsali, he was a proud man ... fought to save his family and his land, and got himself killed. But you see, now, his memory is still alive." Today, like Tsali's memory, the reality of the Senior Citizens' Center is testimony to and a symbol of tribal identity. Above and beyond the political strife that often divides the reservation, Tsali Manor is supported by the Eastern Cherokees as a people who have come to recognize that the program fills in where the aged themselves and often their families cannot. The elderly program is operated by the Tribe under Title III and Title VI of the Older Americans Act (P.L. 95- 478, and amendments) which provide for direct funding to tribes for the operation of services for the elderly. An Advisory Council of 11 members, 6 senior citizens and 5 members of the Tribal Council, monitors the operation of the program and provides a forum for discussion of problems and issues related to the reservation's elderly. Until recently, elderly representatives of other tribes were also invited to Cherokee as part of an exchange program sponsored by the National Indian Council on Aging, The senior citizens narrated interesting stories of their 215

encounter with the elders of other tribes. One recalled the comments of an old Indian from Arizona who, in seeing the sparkling waters of the Oconaluftee River rush through the Qualla Boundary remarked how beautiful and plentiful it was, and how lucky the Eastern Cherokees were with all that water ! To those older tribal members who had never been outside the state of North Carolina, these exchanges with other Indian elders provided an opportunity to learn more about other Indian peoples they had never seen and at times even heard of. Recent budget cuts have negatively affected what was an interesting opportunity for the Cherokees and their guests to compare and discuss methods and approaches in servicing tribal elders. The Tsali Manor complex includes a main building and a separate apartment housing facility. The main building has a large dining room, a modern kitchen, a first aid station, offices, and a craft room. A fire place is active during the winter months, and a television in the main dining area provides some modern entertainment for the senior citizens. Those who wish to practice their artistic and handicraft skills can use the craft room where materials are provided and the senior citizens ' works are displayed and sold to the visitors. Across the main building's parking lot is the new housing complex. It includes twenty-four independent apartment units 216 designed for those senior citizens able to care for them­ selves but unable to afford decent housing. The occupants, some of whom are white, pay a low rent based on their monthly income. The location of the complex makes it convenient for residents not only to participate in the activities at the main building, but also to reach with ease downtown Cherokee, only one mile away, to shop and go to the post office to draw their social security or pension checks which they can then cash at the two nearby banks. Free escort services to and from Tsali Manor are provided daily, except weekends, by two vans operated by the Center. The primary focus of the transportation service is to make it easy for tribal members not only to reach the Manor but also those services such as the post office, banks, grocery store, and the hospital, that play an important part in the senior citizens' life. Elderly from Cherokee proper and those who reside not too far from the Center reach Tsali Manor by their own means of transportation, often carpooling with other aged relatives and friends. But for those senior citizens who rely on the escort services, the daily trip in one of the two vans is something to look forward to. The trip to Tsali Manor is, as many elders admitted, not only important because of the hot meal, but also an occasion to evade isolation, to meet friends, to see what is happening on the Boundary 217 and, as one put it "to keep in touch and hear some news and gossip." The two see vans begin their daily routes early in order to cover the many miles necessary to reach the homes of the more distant senior citizens, some of which are located in very remote areas of the Boundary, Between thirty and forty senior citizens regularly use the free transportation provided by the Center. One van covers the Painttown, Wolfetown and Big Y (Soco) communities, where the largest number of participants in the nutritional program comes from. Another van serves the senior citi­ zens of Birdtown, Yellowhill, and Big Cove. Seating arrangements in the vans generally follow the old pattern of men with men and women with women, but amicable con­ versations are exchanged between the two groups without apparent restraint. In this regard, it is important to report the predominant, almost exclusive use of the Cherokee language by the senior citizens who participate in the transportation program. The drivers of both vans, whose knowledge of the Cherokee language is limited, assured me that the use of the native language by the senior citizens was not due to my presence, but is customary among the old people, as I indeed often noticed throughout the Boundary. When I asked why they preferred using Cherokee instead of English, the elders replied that, in their opinion, the English language is not well 218

equipped to express certain Cherokee concepts. As several senior citizens pointed out, this was particularly a problem they faced growing up on the reservation. In the home they spoke Cherokee, but not in school, as one recalled: We [Indians] were punished for speaking Cherokee. I remember one time, I was a little boy then the teacher heard me say something in Cherokee to ray buddy. She got very angry; then she told me to write it down in English ten times, she told me, while my buddy was still laughing. Well, I couldn't; it just didn't make much sense in English, it was an old Cherokee joke I Other senior citizens at Tsali Manor remember less humorous episodes of the oppressive language policy they experienced during the first decades of this century. This policy was nevertheless unable to inhibit native language learning and use among those who eventually became today's tribal elderly. Instead, several senior citizens sadly commented on the gradual loss of the Cherokee language among their grandchildren, and younger Indians in general: They couldn't stop us from speaking Cherokee; Yeah, they tried, but they couldn't stop us. Now, young folks don't care much for the old tongue. They've got a hard time understanding us if we speak Cherokee. Sure, [they] know a few words, maybe a song, what they've learned in school, but ain't talking Cherokee. Native language proficiency among older Eastern Cherokee who come to Tsali Manor is indicative of the viable role played by their traditional code of 219 communication and it constitutes a powerful social and cultural tool. Language is a reflection and an integral part of its cultural context. The use of the Cherokee language is for the senior citizens a spontaneous act when the context calls for it. The fact that the Tribal Council meetings are still recorded both in English and Cherokee gives formal recognition to the importance and validity of native language use in contemporary Eastern Cherokee society. Being with other tribal elders, addressing the local community council or, on some occasions, speaking in the Tribal Council; at family gatherings; sometimes in church; and on other occasions, such as festivals and ceremonies, the context will call for the use of the Cherokee language. This will in turn provide a means by which native speakers will 'draw the line' between them— as the real Cherokees— and non-native speakers, acculturated tribal members. Native language fluency gives the senior citizens considerable prestige, both because the Cherokee language remains today one of the pillars of tribal identity, and because of recent efforts to revive it. Thanks to the cooperation between the Tribe and Western Carolina University, and local school officials, efforts are being made to teach Cherokee both at the elementary, high school and college levels. As an incentive to young Cherokees to learn or improve their 220 knowledge of the Cherokee language, credit courses in beginning and intermediate Cherokee are offered at the local Cherokee high school; senior citizens are employed as language instructors. Not surprisingly, older tribal members are recognized as 'keepers' of the tribe's linguistic traditions. It is estimated that older tribal members make up over half the total number of native speakers on the Eastern Cherokee reservation (G. Jackson, personal communication 1984). The 1980 census (U.S. Census 1980:667) shows that about 23 percent of the Eastern Cherokees speak a language (Cherokee) other than English at home. Over half of these native speakers are senior citizens, many of whom congregate daily at Tsali Manor. The Center has thus acquired an important meaning for the Qualla Cherokees since it is there that the highest concentration of native speakers— some would say 'real Indians'— can be found on any given day. There are also a few senior citizens whose knowledge of English is limited, and even a greater number of elders who need language assistance with legal matters, application forms, taxes and other matters. The Center provides bilingual services as part of its outreach pro­ gram which includes consumer and general counseling information. According to the SSC acting director, about 65 percent or more of the total elderly population is reached by one or more of the services provided. Greater 221 emphasis, however, is placed on preventive care and in particular the nutritional aspect of the program, a balanced and regular diet obviously being a must for the general well-being of the older person. Hot meals are served daily, five days a week, in the large luncheon facility at Tsali Manor. On the average, over one hundred meals are sefved each day. In addition, some fifteen or twenty meals are home delivered by the drivers of the two vans or by outreach workers who visit infirm senior citizens in their homes. The Senior Citizens Center's staff also contact older reservation residents who do not participate in its activities. As part of the preventive policy of Tsali Manor, absentees are called upon or visited by staff members to ensure the well-being of the tribe's elderly. At Tsali Manor, the noon meal is served beginning at about 11:00 a.m. after Gee George, a well known senior citizen from Hoot Owl Cove has said grace, usually in English. Then, the meals are served until about 1:30 p.m. when the last senior citizens arrive. Meals are standard American fare and are well received by the elderly. The menu varies daily and it aims at providing a balanced diet from the four food groups. As I had the opportunity to share meals with the elders at Tsali Manor I agree with them that the food is quite good, although some senior citizens with a greater appetite noted that the meals are not overfilling. 222

In any event, extra servings are generally available on request. The limited staff does an excellent job in serving over one hundred meals a day, keeping them hot during the three hours of operation. In addition to the regular staff, some senior citizens volunteer as helpers in the kitchen and lunchroom. The atmosphere during meals is relaxed and quite noisy. Because of the large number of people to be served, little time is usually spent at the table after the meal is over, and the senior citizens give their seats to the next group. The Center currently lacks an adequately furnished area where the elders can rest and socialize. The TV area is equipped with folding chairs but people prefer, weather permitting, to gather outside in the park­ ing lot. Conversations are both in Cherokee and English, and a good deal of joking goes on among the senior citizens. A favorite form of address between older tribal members is "siyol [hi!], yeah, still kicking" an indication of their vitality and general good mood despite their poverty. People talk about the weather and how it has affected crops and gardens, tribal politics and, during my stay, the gossip surrounding the removal of Tsali Manor's director. The daily gatherings at the Center, besides providing an opportunity for socializing, are used by several senior citizens for selling and purchasing traditional Cherokee foods such as beanbread (duyagadu), 223

chestnut bread (tiligadu), and in season products and preserves commissioned on an individual basis to those older ladies known for their expertise in traditional food. Tuesdays and Thursdays are special days for many senior citizens gathered at Tsali Manor, as a small bus provides transportation services outside the reservation to Bryson City and Sylva for shopping and visiting. Old people from the various townships on the Boundary take advantage of this opportunity to go to town. Elderly women in particular told me they prefer shopping for certain items outside the reservation where prices are comparatively lower and the selection greater than in Cherokee, Unless a special meeting or event is scheduled at the Manor, by mid-afternoon most senior citizens have left the Center and returned home, The residents of the housing unit simply walk across the parking lot to their modern apartments. Most elderly participants in the nutritional program car pool back home with relatives and neighbors. Other senior citizens are taken home by the two SCC vans on a trip that lasts over an hour from the time they leave Tsali Manor. Some interesting differences are noticeable between the elders served by the escort service. On the Soco route, the elderly passengers generally appear more relaxed both among themselves and with the driver 224 than those of the Big Cove route. The latter appear to be more reserved, reflecting perhaps the conservatism and restrained behavior typical of the Big Cove Cherokees, As an indication of this, it is unusual for the Big Cove passengers to engage in singing, either in Cherokee or English while on route, whereas it is common for the other group to sing religious and social songs in both languages and to joke with the driver during the trip to and from Tsali Manor. Except for this noticeable difference, the senior citizens on both routes were extremely kind to me. They seemed particularly eager to share with me their knowledge about the different areas of the Boundary we traveled through. On the Big Cove route, the senior citizens pointed out the loading stations and the railroad tracks used during the logging period and now completely dis­ mantled and covered by vegetation. They showed their corn patches, gardens, and some pointed out where their old homes once were, in most unaccessible locations way up in the mountains. On the Soco route, the elderly had the van stop at a spring which, according to local lore, is believed to bring twin children to those who drink its water. My reluctance to drink the otherwise delicious water since neither I nor my wife were psychologically and financially ready to burden ourselves with another child, let alone twins, caused much 225

amusement among the senior citizens. Indeed, the humorous nature of most older tribal members, their inclination to use jokes and humor in their daily interactions offers ground for refuting the common sterotype of a stoic and feelinglesG American Indian so often encountered in books and movies. The 'simple' pleasure of riding on the SSC vans was appreciated and, as one regular rider noted "put [him] in a good mood." Anyone familar with the Qualla Boundary realizes how important the escort service is for the program. Both drivers do an excellent job in reaching the more isolated and distant areas, of the Boundary, often driving in adverse weather and bad road conditions. On the Big Cove route, for example, I rode on one of the vans literally into the forest on Bounches Creek road, which soon became a dirt trail almost unfit for motorized vehicles. After a few miles on this narrow road we reached the residence of three senior citizens who are regular participants in the nutrition program at the Manor. Their house over­ looking the valley below does not reveal the difficult road that connects it with the rest of Big Cove, To my remarks about the dangers of remaining isolated in bad weather one of the elders replied: We're right at home here; you get to know these woods ... the way they behave with the [change of] seasons, I mean, you know what to expect- 226

Now, in the old days you had to walk miles on that trail back yonder to go places, not anymore. We've got him, here, rain and snow, he'll come up no matter what. For many senior citizens who live alone or without any younger relative nearby, the daily visit of the SCC vans is a welcome and reassuring sign that someone is regularly looking after them. Winter weather generally does not interfere with the escort service, and the two vans will perform their duty as long as roads are passable. Those rare times, when due to icy or slippery road conditions the drivers have to cut short their regular route, the persons involved and the Center are notified of the impossibility to reach certain senior citizens. This communication network is important, particularly on this reservation where the elderly often live in relatively isolated and hard to reach areas. In addition to nutritional and escort services, the Senior Citizens* Center provides other support services aimed at improving the elders' living conditions. In cooperation with the Tribe, the Center provides for the cutting and delivery of wood to needy senior citizens. This service is particularly important since wood stoves are the only source of heat and cooking fuel for many elderly tribal members. During the winter of 1984-1985, when temperatures reached all-time lows on the Boundary, 227

this emergency service prevented many elderly persons from freezing. Actually, the situation was more severe at the Tsali Manor apartments than it was up in the coves where people and their elders relied on wood stoves for heating. Because of a power shortage and, since the new apartments use electricity for heating, the residents had to be evacuated to the local Holiday Inn until power was restored. Not surprisingly, the lack of wood stoves in the Tsali Manor apartments has caused some complaints among the elderly residents of this otherwise comfortable and convenient complex. Except for the unpredictable impact of severe weather, Tsali Manor is only marginally affected by the changing seasons. During cold months, from approximately late October to early April, the Senior Citizens' Center has a heavier attendance record than in the summer tourist season. The number of participants in the nutri­ tion program tends to temporarily decrease with the coming of the warm weather, as some senior citizens start working on their gardens or are employed at Oconaluftee Village. The difference, however, is often made up by those elderly who take the advantage of the good weather "to get out of the house and get around," as they put it. Overall, the weekly attendance of about five hundred senior citizens remains fairly constant, as do monthly averages of meals served (circa 2,100 per month in 1983). 228

It is important to emphasize that the Senior Citizens' Center is not a retirement community modeled after Anglo concepts of similar facilities for the aged. The senior citizens who occupy the apartment units moved there because of a need for adequate housing or to avoid residential isolation. Their placement at Tsali Manor facilitates their interaction with the wider community rather than grouping them aside as seems often the case in white society (Levin and Levin 1980; Baker 1985) . Actually, while the residents express appreciation for the overall senior citizens' program, some also note that living at Tsali Manor is not what they would choose had they other alternatives: close proximity and concen­ tration of people "leads to gossip," confessed one informant, "and can make life difficult for you." For the Eastern Cherokees, decentralized and often isolated residence has been a way of life for the last one hundred years, and the present generation of elders is more accustomed and 'comfortable' with that arrange­ ment than with apartment living. Despite decentrali­ zation, in fact. Eastern Cherokee society has maintained a close social network that has generally compensated for physical and residential isolation. Consonant with this philosophy, the services provided by Tsali Manor, from hot meals to escort, social and counseling aid, reflect the culturally oriented nature of the program that 229

stresses interdependence rather than an alienating policy of concentration, withdrawal and institutionalization of the elderly. Indeed, to some extent Tsali Manor is reminiscent of the ancient Town House as the senior citizens, like the elders of yore, have a place where they come together to eat, socialize and discuss 'town* politics. Considering also the contribution and influence of the aged in contemporary reservation life, the comparison between Tsali Manor and the old Town House may not be exaggerated, at least at a symbolic level. The visits of the Principal Chief, tribal officials, and distinguished guests are an indication of the key role played by Tsali Manor in community life. The long-awaited appointment of a new director, after the 1983 'crisis,' will most likely result in an increase and expansion of activities of the Senior Citizens’ Center, both social, recreational, and service delivery ones. To complement the work of Tsali Manor, the Tribal Council recently appointed a committee to assess the need for a nursing home/geriatric care complex on the reserva­ tion. To date, no such services are available at Eastern Cherokee. Senior citizens in need of intermediate and long-term geriatric or nursing care are referred to nursing homes in Bryson City, Sylva, Waynesville and Murphy. 230

If incidence of institutionalization can be used as one possible indicator of the level of physical incapa­ citation and social withdrawal for the elderly, then the present generation of older Eastern Cherokees would fall toward the positive end of an ideal continuum with involvement (positive) and disengagement (negative) at its opposite ends. According to the Indian Health Service, there are some twenty Eastern Cherokee senior citizens in nursing homes in the above mentioned white towns; this figure represents circa 0.03 percent of the resident elderly Indian population. The supervisory social worker of Mountain View Manor in Bryson City told me that their elderly Indian patients are generally in good spirits considering their status requiring nursing care. Also, she noted, Indian relatives "are more consistent in their visits and emotional support" toward their old people than whites are with their aged relatives in the nursing home. Among the residents of Mountain View Manor is Mrs. H. Lambert Reagan, one of the oldest enrolled members of the Eastern Band. Mrs. Lambert is 101 years old (in 1985) and, despite her good health, had to be taken to the nursing home because of a broken hip which confined her to a wheel chair. The Eastern Cherokees are proud of their longevous elders, and the tribal newspaper routinely publishes information about them, A recent 231 article in the tribal paper tclJ the story of this excep­ tional senior citizen who, in many respects, symbolizes many other elderly both for her vitality in old age and her life history: [she] was born April 14, 1884..,. didn't get a chance to attend school and cannot read or write [English] very well. She was a housewife most of her life and raised a big garden during the gardening season ... She also served her fami’.y and neighbors as a mid-wife. Her knowledge of herbal medicines made her a sort of a doctor and ... the people sought her knowledge of plants for their ailments.... Each summer and fall she canned more than a thousand jars for the family to use the following winter. Hester has been healthy most of her life. Her only stays in the hospital have occurred in the past ten years ... she wanted to live to be a hundred.... We don't think anyone can dispute the fact that she is the oldest enrolled member of the tribe. (The Cherokee One Feather, 10 April 1985) Emotional support of tribal members in nursing homes is not only the concern of friends and relatives but also of tribal officials. During the Annual Cherokee Fall Festival, newly elected Chief Youngdeer reaffirmed the Tribe's commitment to enhancing the well being of older tribal members. Recently, the Chief went to Bryson City to visit the Indian elderly in the nursing home, joining them in a small celebration commemorating the Cherokee tribal heritage. Beyond this symbolic support of tribal members who had to be removed from their familiar surroundings and placed in off-reservation institutions, there is a growing 232 concern among the Eastern Cherokees that a health care facility for the aged may soon be needed. In his recent article on the perspective of a tribally owned and operated health care facility for the elderly, George Squirrel noted: To have our elderly, who are in need of skilled care or unable to care for themselves, taken from an environment in which 80 percent of a life-time has been spent, placed in a nursing home ... is a major trauma. Our extreme elderly are then faced with the ... task of re-adapting to an entirely different environment, culturally and socially.,.. Language, dietary change, and lifestyle, to name a few, exemplify the obstacles that an elderly must endure ... when being placed in a health care facility outside of the Cherokee Indian Reservation. (1986:11) A growing elderly Indian population and extended life expectancy is likely to result in a growing number of elderly who will require in their terminal years both intermediate and long-term care. Already the Cherokee Indian Health Service has half a dozen elders on a nurs­ ing home waiting list (see Squirrel 19 86:11). At the present time, however, elderly Eastern Cherokees in off-reservation nursing homes constitute extreme cases and the Tribe is to be commended for planning ahead on such a delicate social and human issue. Although it was not the purpose of this study to survey in detail the physical and mental status of the elderly, attention was paid to their condition since health inevitably affects the nature and extent of their social 233

involvement. My interviews with about half of the regular daily participants in the hot meal program at Tsali Manor strengthened the impression that this segment of the Eastern Cherokee elderly is generally in good or fair health, considering their age and their often poor living conditions. Following guidelines of the OARS (Older Americans Resources and Services) survey instrument— used with both Indian and non-Indian elderly— I discussed their physical status with senior citizens at Tsali Manor. Except in a few instances, most of the elders drew an overall positive picture of their health. The first question focused on the elderly person's estimate of his/her overall physical condition, using a modified OARS four-level qualitative scale; forty-eight senior citizens provided the following responses :

TABLE 8 ELDERLY'S ESTIMATES OP THEIR OVERALL HEALTH

Qualitative Scale Responses

Very good 4 Good 21 Pair 17 Poor 6 Total 48 234

Responses,are, of course, highly subjective and may not necessarily coincide with the opinion of a physician or that of a relative. They are perhaps more significant if interpreted in a cultural context. For example, I objected to one of the respondents who rated his health as 'good' in that it seemed to me he had difficulty getting around and he needed his cane when walking. The aged Indian replied: Well, these legs ain't strong ... like they used to be, otherwise I can't complain. Like I said, I spent two weeks in bed last year, now I feel better. The Good Master has kept me going all these years, I ain't gonna quit yet. You live a good life, don't drink, don't quarrel, do some good if you can. In the old days, they used to say good health comes from a good heart. A similar attitude is shared by other Tsali Manor elders who answered questions on their physical status more in terms of the broader context of their life than specific health problems. Consider, for example, the case of a much loved elderly woman who is a regular participant in the programs at Tsali Manor, The gracile old lady is the great-granddaughter of Wasidani, Tsali's youngest son, who was spared by the firing squad in 1838. She shares the ride from her home in Soco to the Center with other senior citizens, two of whom are her relatives. In order to reach the road where the van picks her up in the morning she has to walk across the creek named after her great­ grandfather over a tiny log bridge, and repeat the same 235

crossing in the afternoon. By most visible signs, this silent elder (her speech is impaired) appears in very frail health; yet, one is surprised as she walks slowly over her little bridge, balancing herself with the help of a single hand-rail. Discussing her physical condition, the driver of the van and her aged relatives agreed that "all things considered, Little Addie is in pretty fair health." The ability to participate in the elderly program, to carry on some daily housework and, importantly, being physically mobile are regarded by the senior citi­ zens as general indications of one's good health. An overall decrease in one's physiological and biological functions (basal metabolism, muscular strength, hearing and eyesight, etc.; see, for example, Bromley 1974; Timiras 1972), are accepted as inevitable aspects of aging. Maintaining a degree of involvement in local community and tribal activities is a concern of the senior citizens who regard their participation in tribal life as a sign of their physical and emotional well being. In this regard, is the case of another well known tribal elder who, despite his heart problems, maintains a direct involvement in the tribal community. Mr. Geet Crowe, a long time resident of the Boundary, is also the leader of the Qualla Traditional Dancers. This cultural and social group was created a few years ago by young Eastern Cherokees concerned about the maintenance and 236

revitalization of tribal traditions, particularly dances and songs. With the assistance of tribal elders, and of Geet Crowe in particular, the group has rapidly gained a good reputation, performing at a number of tribal celebrations. Although Mr. Crowe was recovering from open heart surgery, he committed himself to accompany the Traditional Dancers at the 1984 Red Clay Gathering, an historical moment in the life of the Cherokee People. He, like many other senior citizens who made the trip there, wanted to be an integral part of it. As for the low number of elders who described their health as being ’poor,' the following facts had to be taken into consideration. First, we have seen that one segment of the Tsali Manor elderly is made up of the local apartment complex residents who must be able to tend to themselves in order to live there; they consider their health to be good or fair. Second, senior citizens in poor health generally do not come to the Center but wait at home for their hot meals and the nurse's visit. One of the senior citizens who gave such a reply had recently recovered from an illness and decided to come up to Tsali Manor to avoid isolation and loneliness. That the aged Indian had not yet fully recovered became clear a few days after my interview when he had to be taken to the Cherokee Hospital for his diabetes. 237

Since the frequency of visits to the hospital is also used by social gerontologists as an indicator of old people's physical and emotional condition (compare NICOA

1981), I also asked a number of senior citizens at Tsali Manor about their recent need for hospital care. Specifi­ cally, the elders were asked how many days they had spent as patients in the hospital in the last six months. Forty-four responses were divided as follows:

TABLE 9 DAYS IN THE HOSPITAL IN THE LAST SIX MONTHS

Number of Days Responses

0 29 1-2 5 2-3 4 3-4 1 4-7 3 more than one week 2 Total 44

About three fourths of those interviewed reported not to have spent any days as patients in the hospital, even though some later admitted they had been ill enough to remain home for a few days. They did not check into the hospital because they felt more comfortable at home and. 238

importantly, they did not have to worry about food thanks to the home delivered meal service from Tsali Manor, The effective meals-on-wheels program thus allows the elderly more flexibility and control over their own destiny. This is in turn emotionally reassuring as several senior citizens I spoke to expressed reluctance to spend time in the hospital for fear it may lead to institutionalization. There is the danger that some elderly will delay seeking medical care for the same reason causing complications that might have been avoided. The development of a geriatric care and nursing home facility on the reserva­ tion staffed by Indian personnel would provide an answer to the physical and emotional needs of elderly tribal members. It would also ease the pressure on many Indian families who, while acknowledging that some of their older relatives need special care, are reluctant to place them in off-reservation institutions. In addition to the cultural reasons mentioned previously, distances make visiting more difficult and sporadic (see Squirrel 1986:

11) . There are also political and economic reasons why the Tribe gives the senior citizens' needs a top priority. By running an effective program for the elderly, the Eastern Cherokees can make culturally sensitive decisions while receiving both state and federal funds for services that benefit not only the elderly as direct recipients of 239 special programs, but also their families and the Tribe as a whole. The Eastern Band has been quite successful in expanding its senior citizens' program while making the operations at Tsali Manor cost effective. The newly appointed Assistant Secretary of Aging for the State of North Carolina came to this conclusion after visiting the Tsali Manor facilities and meeting with the Principal Chief and other tribal elders. The State Division of Aging is committed to supporting the Tribe's program for the elderly both because of the special relationship between North Carolina arid the Eastern Band, and because several non-Indian elderly participate in the senior citizens' program at Tsali Manor (Genevieve Lambert, personal communication 1983) . Similarly important, although somewhat different, has been the informal relationship between the Senior Citizens' Center and the local Cherokee Agency of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, For over ten years, which covered the crucial expansion of the senior citizens' program, the office of Agency Superintendent was held by Jeff Muskrat, an Oklahoma Cherokee. Mr. Muskrat is a World War II veteran and retired from the Army with the rank of lieutenant colonel. As a senior citizen and Agency Superintendent, Mr. Muskrat was a supporter of the Tsali Manor project and of federal funding for elderly programs on Indian reservations. According to several EBCI elders. 240 the former superintendent kept an open line of communica­ tion with the tribal elderly, voicing their concerns and needs in Washington, Because of that informal relation­ ship, older tribal members could count on his support on matters that affected them directly. Recently, the senior citizens honored Mr. Muskrat and his wife with a luncheon at Tsali Manor, as the superintendent retired from his BIA job. More than a pro-forma gathering, this and similar events taking place at Tsali Manor are an indication of the important role the Center, and the senior citizens, play in tribal life. The changing demographic structure of the Band, with a growing number of elderly, the diverse roles and functions they perform within the family and the tribe, and the viable elderly program at Tsali Manor indicate that today's EBCI senior citizens continue to constitute an important and active segment of the tribal community. Considered within the context of contemporary reservation life, with its socio-economic problems and conflicting cultural trends, the aged have shown, to paraphrase Hodge (1981), remarkable vitality in the face of great odds. Of course, such a positive view of the overall condition of the senior citizens is conditioned by widespread poverty, at times isolation, and occasional incidents of neglect. Yet, it appears that the tribal community as a whole— mainly through the programs at Tsali Manor and soon 241 perhaps with a tribal health care facility— is committed to the well-being of its elderly. The Tribe's commitment reflects both a human and social sense of responsibility, and a tradition of posi­ tive values and symbols associated with old age and the aged. While it is difficult to predict what will happen to the future generations of older tribal members, today's senior citizens enjoy an overall positive social status, particularly in light of the recent cultural revitaliza­ tion, Part of this renewed interest in their heritage involves the rediscovery of certain traditional symbolism which, as I discuss in the next chapter, was closely associated with the aged. CHAPTER V

SYMBOLIC ASSOCIATIONS WITH OLD AGE

Paralleling the adjustments that have occurred in the modern roles and functions of the aged, the cultural symbolism traditionally associated with old age and the aged has lost much of its pervasiveness even though it has not altogether disappeared. Symbolic associations play an important role in culture; and, in western society old age has increasingly received negative con­ notations. Among contemporary Eastern Cherokees the traditional, positive symbolism of old age is being confronted by the negativistic traits and images white culture places on the aged and on being old. As a result, younger Eastern Cherokees may find it hard to exemplify the ancient tribal norms of respect, deference and submission to the aged. Similarly, many tribal members are not aware of the complex natural and religious symbolism traditionally associated with old age. On the other hand, certain 'key' symbolic figures closely relating to old age and the aged continue to survive among older tribal members who internalized them as part of their enculturation in a more traditionally

242 243

oriented period. Today, despite the much more ambiguous socio-cultural context, some central elements of tribal tradition have been revitalized, and with them their underlying symbolic structure and meaning. In the follow­ ing pages, attention is paid to those elements of traditional Eastern Cherokee culture that appear to have a clear symbolic association with old age. Although I do not claim that such cultural correlations have the same powerful influence on the Eastern Cherokees* perception and images of old age as they did in the past, the analysis of such symbolism may help us understand, in part, why old age has retained a positive connotation in modern reservation culture. The material presented should be considered as a starting point from which to eventually elaborate the little researched subject of the symbolism associated with old age both in traditional and modern tribal culture.

Fire (Atsilv, lit. Coal, or Adowelagihv, lit. Blazing Wood) In traditional Cherokee cosmology there is a pervasive symbolic association between fire and the aged. This association refers both to domestic fire, still widely used by modern Easter': Cherokees, and the ceremonial fire, traditionally kept in the Council House and now burning as the Eternal Flame near the Mountainside Theatre in Cherokee. Fire has always played and continues to play an 244 important role in the life of the Eastern Cherokees and, according to tribal elders, its symbolic association with old age is as ancient as the 'coming* of fire itself. One of my elderly informants narrated the following version of the coming of fire and how it became associated with an 'old man*: Has anybody told you about the fire? ... Well, now, way back, when I was a boy, my grandpa says— it was sixty-one years ago when he died— this is what he say, when I was a boy: The wdlnter*s coming, and the wild animals wondered how they were going to keep warm. There was a big sycamore tree, on a big island over yonder, and water here. Smoke coming out of the sycamore tree. There was no fire back then, but the Good Master— well, white folks underestimate the Indians, they believed in a Being and hereafter, a Supreme Being they called Galoneda— . Well, lightning struck that sycamore tree while the animals were having a meeting. Smoke came out. Black Snake, galegi, says. I'll go get the fire. He swim across the water and crawled into the bottom of the tree. When he got in there, there was hot ashes; them hot ashes got on him, and so he failed. That's why he's black, from them ashes. The Screech-Owl, Wagugu, says. I'll go. He flew over there where the lightning struck. When he look down there into the hollow tree the wind blew hot ashes into his eyes. That's why his eyes have got black circles around, and then black spots on the throat. What's next ... the Raven! Golanu, the War Bird! And Raven says— have you ever heard a raven? Now, there ain't that many people except a booger like me who can mock a raven, wrhoo, wrhoo, wrhoo ...— Now, he flew to the top of the sycamore tree; he tried to get the fire back, the fire burned his feather. He got coal, smoke all over him, that's the reason he's black. Ah, there came the Water Spider, Kananesgi anayehl. Water Spider, I'll go get the fire. Same place. Now, she put a piece of burning coal on her back and took it back to the animals. That's how she got that color black on her back, but she managed to bring the fire back. 245

Well, an Old Man came along. He was worried about the winter coming ... what's that? he say to the animals— Now, in the old days, Indians could talk to the animals, not anymore— . Fire, atsilv, they say, it'll keep us warm in the winter. My People are cold, Old Man say. I'll bring them fire to keep warm in the winter. He take the coal in his hands and ... went back home. Now, Old Man caught on fire, by the time he got back home was nothing but ashes, His folks look under them ashes and found a piece of live coal. That's how Indians got the fire. A variant of this legend credits an old woman for getting fire from the animals, and making sure that there would always be a supply of dry wood in the home. Accord­ ing to Gilbert (1955:334) "grandmother fire is the old woman out gathering wood." Mooney (and Olbrechts 1932:21) noted that the Eastern Cherokees address fire as "our grandparent, opening his (her?) sheltering arms in affection, and surrounded by us, his Cher?) grandchildren." In traditional Cherokee culture, care of the domestic fire was the responsibility of the aged; similarly, a beloved man tended to the sacred fire in the Council House. Since old age and the adjective old or ancient denotes wisdom, ritual power, and imposes respect, traditional Cherokees address fire, in ritual context, as Ancient White or Ancient Red, Grandfather, or Grandmother. Fire is also closely associated with the sun (see Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:21). Thus, both fire and the sun "two of the most powerful forces in Cherokee cosmology ... are regarded as grandparents" (Gilbert 1955:334). 246

The epithet Ancient White, according to Hough (1929:175), probably refers to fire's "antiquity and light-giving properties, and perhaps the fact that when dead [it] is covered with a coat of white ashes." When blazing woods were used in rituals and ceremonies, as for example before the stick-ball game, fire was addressed as Ancient Red (S.S., personal communication 19 83). In Cherokee color symbolism, red is associated with victory and success CCorkran 1953:25). Conversely, white reflects old age, wisdom, purity and peace. The dual attributes of fire, as in the case of the aged, seem to reflect the ideal status one reaches with old age: "immemorially old, undying, periodically strengthened by the magic of good ... the fire ... was the center of strength. An Indian embarking upon a crucial enterprise made a prayer or incantation to this 'grandparent'" (Corkran 1953:25-26). The Cherokee beloved men, observed James Adair (1775: 81) "are men resembling holy fire ... [indeed] a reflec­ tion of the Divine Fire." The Divine Fire symbolized the duality and unity of traditional Cherokee world view. Fire's white and red attributes also reflected the ancient dual political organization of the beloved men in the White and Red hierarchies. Another interpretation suggests that "the colors red and white— the red of the glowing fire, and the white of the quiescent fire— indi­ cate a probable ancient unity of fire, lightning, [sun], 247

and rainbow, in a concept of one Divine Fire" (Corkran 1956:32). Both lightning (anagalisgi) and thunder (ayvdaquatlisgi) are also referred to as Ancient One, or Ancient Red One (see Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1967:119). The symbolic grandfather-grandchildren relationship between lightning (and thunder) and the Indians is the reason why, as one of my elderly informants emphatically declared "a thunderbolt never hits an Indian1" Likewise, lightning-struck wood has a magical power for the traditional Eastern Cherokees. As already mentioned, several senior citizens affirmed that ancient Cherokee religion contemplated one supreme 'power' alternatively referred to as Galoneda or Yowa, the last possibly a loan word from the English Jehovah. Closer to the aboriginal concept of a supreme deity is the appellative Chotauneleeh which Ed Sharpe (1970:20) translates as "The Elder Fires Above." Now that aboriginal religion has long been replaced with Christianity, most older tribal members refrain from discussing in detail the complex symbolism and rituals associated with fire. Nevertheless, the connection between fire and old age is still recognized. There is general agreement among my informants that "in the olden days, the old people regarded fire as their grandparent." Like the elderly, fire ought to be treated with respect. Knowledge of specific illnesses associated with 248 a lack of respect toward fire is also widespread among older Eastern Cherokees, although none of the senior citizens I interviewed told me of anyone who had been a victim of an illness caused by fire. Similarly, no one commented on the not too old practice of invoking fire "to protect her grandchildren in the home, and bits of charcoal are tied about the necks of children so that their magical grandmother will look after them" (Gilbert 1955:334} . The symbolic association between fire and the aged, both the living ones and the tribal ancestors has been revitalized by the recent Celebration of Togetherness between the Eastern and Western Cherokees. In April 1984 at Red Clay in Tennessee, members of the two tribes reunited for the first time since the last Cherokee national council held a year before removal (Corn 1984) . In 1838 thousands of Cherokees were forcibly gathered at Red Clay to begin the 1,000 mile Trail of Tears to Indian Territory. In the recent and unprecedented reunion of the two tribes, the Red Clay site— today a state historic park— was chosen as a symbol of continuity and unity between the two Peoples who had been separated by the events of history. To emphasize the theme of unity and the symbolic return to the ancestral homeland, the Eastern and Western Cherokees have once again gathered around the Sacred Fire 249

of the Cherokee Nation, The week-long celebration began in fact with the Ceremony of the Flame held in Cherokee. Chief Youngdeer and Oklahoma Cherokee Chief Ross Swimmer— now Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs— presided over the lighting of a torch at the site of the Eternal Flame in Cherokee. The torch was in turn carried by Indian runners (symbolic of the Cherokee clans) from Qualla to Red clay. Prom Red Clay, the last beloved men of the beleaguered Cherokee Nation had carried the Sacred Fire all the way to their new homeland in what is today northeastern Oklahoma. In 1951, the Flame that had been kept alive for over a century in Oklahoma was returned east to the Qualla Boundary. Carried by the Cherokee runners, the Sacred Flame completed its symbolic journey back to Red Clay. The two-day celebration at Red Clay was inaugurated with the rekindling of the Council Fire, accompanied by invocations both in Cherokee and English. Thousands of Eastern and Western Cherokees took part in the cele­ brations. So important was the cultural concern of this event that Chief Youngdeer called for a week of cultural awareness on the Qualla Boundary, which was successfully conducted with the assistance of the elderly. Classes on Cherokee traditions and lore were held at the local elementary and high school with senior citizens as guest speakers; young children also visited the elderly at 250

Tsali Manor. That Red Clay was not a unique episode is demon­ strated by the second reunion of the two tribes that took place in June 1985 in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, the capital of the Cherokee Nation. Again, Chief Swimmer and Chief Youngdeer presided over the lighting of the Council Fire at the Cherokee National Historical Center, opening a three-day celebration and meeting on the future of the Cherokee People. Particular attention focused on the preservation and revitalization of tribal traditions, the involvement of the elders in tribal life, and the socio-economic and educational needs of Cherokees of all ages. Several Eastern Cherokee senior citizens traveled to Oklahoma to participate in the reciprocal meeting. Both the Red Clay and Tahlequah celebrations appear to have had an impact on both tribes. Young tribal members have a renewed interest in the Cherokee language, and a language program is offered on the reservation. The program employs senior citizens as language instructors. Traditional dances and songs have come to life and perhaps a more meaningful expression as younger generations seek instruction from the tribal elders on traditional matters, The new emphasis on the traditional symbolism and ritual use of the Sacred Pire is a good example of this cultural revival among the Eastern Cherokees who, less 251

than two decades ago, were considered to be 'isolated* from the wider Indian cultural and political renascence (see Kupferer 1968) . As a tribal member noted "the flame at Red Clay was rekindled as a symbol of our unity as a People, [and] to inspire the wisdom of our leaders. It's about time we bring back some of our old Indian traditions. I think the Cherokees have gained a lot, I mean spiritually, from that meeting." Similarly, another aspect of the traditional use of fire which had long been abandoned was revived in conjunction with the recent celebrations. The sweatbath (asi) was used by the Indian runners, as one put it "to purify and humble you, like running." Ritual plunging in the waters of a mountain creek was also observed. The sweat lodge is today being used by younger Eastern Cherokees who have become actively involved in the revitalization of ancient tribal traditions. The tradi­ tional elders, for their part, appear willing to assist if they are called upon to do so. Consonant with their social and moral code of non-assertiveness, they would rather wait for those interested in traditional matters than proselytize. This is the case of a senior citizen who, while quite knowledgeable of tribal traditions seems to keep a low profile. Answering my questions about the persistence of old beliefs about fire among the Cherokees he replied: "Well, some folks [still] believe it ... some 252

old folks say prayers [to the fire]; the minister, he says that's evil worship. Now, God gave us fire, there ain't no evil in that, I knov;, my old man told me, never believe everything them preachers tell you son, they know nothing of our Indian ways," After a short pause, the old man uttered the following exclamation "Heeel" followed by laughter, at which I too responded with much the same. He also reminded me that tobacco too was and with some still is, an important ritual element traditionally associated with old age. I verified this information in the literature and found it correct, as Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick (1967:110) report that tobacco (tso;lunego) is ritually addressed as 'White Ancient One' in Cherokee formulas and incantations.

Sun and Moon (Nunda) The sun and the moon played an important role in traditional Cherokee social, economic and ceremonial life. The agricultural cycle and associated festivals, cere­ monies, games and social gatherings were scheduled according to the cycles of the two celestial bodies. Senior priests and medicine men kept a constant watch on them, measuring their course in the sky in order to determine the most propitious time for most group activi­ ties . 253

The native terra for both sun and moon is nunda, which as Mooney and Olbrechts (1932:19) indicated "conveys the idea of 'luminary'." Two alternative terms can be used for sun and moon respectively. The term for sun is igaehinunda, meaning the source of light that is (ehi) in the day (iga); the moon instead is referred to as nundasunoehi, meaning the luminary that is (ehi) in the night (suno). As already noted, a close association exists between the sun (and the moon) and fire. According to Ed Sharpe (1970:20), "when the creator ... Yowa had given form to the earth he left the sun and the moon to govern the world. They in turn appointed the fire to take care of mankind using smoke as its messenger." Unlike many other American Indian traditons, the sun/ moon was not associated by the Cherokees with the origin of things (Mooney 1900a:239, 248, passim), but rather regarded as an important intermediary sent to help mankind. As mythical 'grandparents,' the sun/moon and fire "are the only spirits to which prayers, in the true meaning of the term, are offered; of them things are asked, while other spirits are merely commanded to do things" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:20) Reflecting the symbolic dualism of traditional Cherokee cosmology, the sun was also regarded as the sister of the moon. In turn, their oneness was the result of an incestuous act between brother/moon and his sister/sun, the former still carrying on his face the 254 black spots contracted during the love affair with his sister (Mooney 1900a:256-257) • In the old days, the Cherokees called the sun their 'grandmother' and appealed to her 'in various rites for love attraction and for the cure of certain diseases" (Gilbert 1955:334), The moon, the sun's 'elder brother,' was also referred to as edudu, maternal grandfather (Gilbert 1955:334). Generally considered benevolent being, the moon was often addressed generically as 'grandparent', the "only spirit to share this honor with the Sun and the Fire" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932: 22) . Similarly, it was customary for the traditional Cherokees to greet each new moon with the following salutation; I greet thee maternal grandfather.,.. At the time when it will be like this again [i.e., next month] we will still be seeing each other. Pronouncing this salutation formula is a sure means of safeguarding against all sickness or accidents throughout the ensuing month. (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:22) It is still believed among older tribal members that in ancient times old people were particularly capable of directly communicating and interceding with the sun and the moon for young lovers, sick persons, and ball players. According to Gilbert (1955:334), the moon "is the especial protector of ball players, just as the fire is of the hunter," The symbolic association between the aged and the sun/moon is also reflected in the ritual name attributed 255 to that celestial body. Like the beloved elders of the tribe (both men and women) whose roles were those of 'apportioners' of economic goods and medico-religious services, the sun/moon is ritually referred to as unehlanuhi, meaning "he has apportioned ... divided into equal parts, doubtlessly referring to the time-dividing role of the sun" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:20). More explicitly, remembering that the beloved men allotted tribal lands to the seven clans who in turn, through the beloved grandmothers, divided the lands among the matrifocal extended households, the same authors note that the stem unehl "is used to express the allotting of tribal territory" (Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:20), which was an important prerogative of the elders. Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick (1965) argue that the above translation is 'faulty' and suggest instead that the ritual term for the sun "comes from the verb 'to provide*" (1965:72-73). One of my informants, a former Cherokee language instructor, could not clarify this point but noted that the two verbs are conceptually similar. Thus, even if we accept Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick's (1965) translation, the substantial association of the sun with the aged, both regarded as 'providers,' remains valid. On a similar note a senior citizen recalled that: Old people used to call the sun grandmother, you know, like they would call their gran'ma. Now, 256

my grandpa smoked his pipe everytime the new moon came up. Well, he was a real conjurman ... he spoke to the moon: Kal tell the sun to rise tomorrow, bring us light, make the corn grow tall. D.H. Corkran, citing information gathered among the Cherokees by John Howard Payne, a poet, and Daniel S. Butrick, a missionary, reports an ancient invocation the beloved men of the town directed to the sun at sunrise: "Akeyukgu squanelonehi. Sun, my creator!" (Corkran 1955: 35) . The use of the term grandfather (or grandmother) toward sun/moon and fire is common among "the eastern and plains tribes ... as a respectful address to one occupying a superior station, or venerable" (Mooney 1900a:491).

Corn (Selu) Corn was the main staple of the aboriginal Cherokees, and it still plays a relatively important part in today's Eastern Cherokee agricultural activities and diet. As we have seen in the preceding pages on ceremonialism, the annual ritual cycle centered around the seasonal stages of growth and harvest of this native American crop. That the Cherokees were largely dependent on corn and its production was reflected both in the ceremonial and social organiza­ tion of the tribe. The control women had over much of the agricultural activities was in turn reflected in the symbolic association of corn with the female gender, and more specifically with 'old woman' (agayulige) by which 257

appellative corn was also known to the Cherokees. The mythical ancestor of corn was Selu (lit, corn), the wife of Kanati, the Lucky Hunter. The myth of the origin of game and corn was collected by Mooney among the Big Cove elders during his fieldwork on the Boundary in 1887-1890, The long story (see Mooney 1900a:242-248) reaches a climax when Selu is killed by her two sons: 'So you are going to kill me?' said Selu. 'Yes' said the boys, 'You are a witch,' 'Well,' said their mother, 'when you have killed me, clear a large piece of ground in front of the house and drag my body seven times around in circle. Then drag me seven times over the ground inside the circle, and stay up all night and watch, and in the morning you will have plenty of corn.' The boys killed her.... Then they set to work to clear the ground in front of the house, but instead of clearing the if hole piece they cleared only seven little spots. This is why corn grows only in a few places instead of all over the world. They dragged the body of Selu around in the circle, and whenever her blood fell on the ground the corn sprang up. But instead of dragging her body seven times across the ground, they dragged it over only twice, which is the reason the Indians still work their crop but twice. The two brothers sat up and watched their corn all night, and in the morning it was full grown and ripe. (Mooney 1900a:244-245) The symbolic sacrifice of the corn/mother meant life to the next seven generations and their next seven generations who from then on always looked upon Selu as their beloved grandmother and provider. Because Selu was a woman, agricultural activities became a primary responsibility of women who in turn owned the fields. 258

Directly connected with the corn/grandmother complex is another symbolic association, that is, between the mortar used to grind corn and 'old woman', As Speck and Broom (1951) indicated, the mortar is symbolic of abundance and economic well being. It derives its association with 'grandmother' from the "signification of corn as 'old woman* or 'our mother'" (Speck and Broom 1951:20). In the past, it was customary among the Eastern Cherokees and other southeastern tribes to place a corn mortar upside down in the center of the room where dances were held during winter months. The mortar was used by the leading medicine man as a seat or a stool for his ritual paraphernalia. Another interpretation suggests that the overturned corn mortar was used "in place of a ceremonial fire ... as a central [ritual] axis around which performers danced" (Fogelson and Bell 1983:49). A key element of Eastern Cherokee winter ceremonials that used an overturned mortar and/or ceremonial fire as its center was the so-called Booger Dance. This ritual drama, which is commonly referred to as Booger Dance or Masked Dance of the Cherokees, this being its central feature, is in sharp contrast with the ancient series of traditional ceremonies previously described. To the dignified, orderly unfolding of the great ceremonies, the Booger Dance counterposes the obscene, grotesque and unruly performances of the masked dancers, or boogers. 259

The buffonlc character of the dancers, their apparent lack of any religious overtone— unlike the ceremonial clowns of other tribes— has puzzled students of Cherokee culture. Until recently, most authors (see, for example, Highwater 1977:76-79) have relied on Speck and Broom's (1951) seminal work in interpreting the booger cycle as a ritual dramatization of Cherokee-white relations. According to these authors, the term 'booger* is equi­ valent to bogey (ghost) an attribute the Cherokees give to white people. Reflecting the crises the Cherokees experienced in their encounters with the whites, the booger dance weakens the powers of alien races by ridicule and dramatization of their features and actions. The overt sexuality, noise, vulgar utterances and exaggerated expressions of the wooden and gourd masks are meant to impersonate white intruders, blacks, and enemy Indians. The eventual departure of the booger dancers at the end of the drama symbolizes the return to normality after the boisterous intruders satisfied their unruly wants. Recently, Raymond Fogelson and associates (see Fogelson and Walker 1980; Fogelson and Bell 19 83] have suggested an alternative explanation to Speck and Broom's (19 51) classic interpretation of the Booger Dance. Drawing from a wide range of ethnographic sources and comparative data on Iroquois, and other southeastern 260 masked dance traditions, particularly the Old Man Dance of the Creek and Seminoles (Muskogee), Fogelson and Walker (1980:99) note that: With the Booger Masks of the Cherokees, we find a unique persona, framed in a tragicomic drama that serves to synthesize the disparate parts of the self. Perhaps most importantly, it brings together old and young men so that each partici­ pates simultaneously in certain qualities of the other— wisdom, maturity, and authority for the young men; vigor and virility for the old men the Booger Dance acts out a basic tension between old men and young men in which each fears and desires the power of the other, yet neither can exist alone. In such a context, the temporary disruption of the tradi­ tional harmonious order caused by. the.intrusion and rowdy behavior of the boogers serves to emphasize the need to return to normality and to control anti-social forces (by transposition, the exaggerated behavior of young men can be easily associated to that equally deplorable of white intruders). Like the dramatic death of Selu, the tension caused by the masked dancers serves as a catharsis that brings about renewal and release from basic "problematics" of Cherokee life: with Selu it was corn (i.e., food), with the boogers "the uncontrolled excessiveness of young men, the nagging morality of the elders, and the inappropriate behavior of non-Cherokees. The categories of time and space, old age and youth ... are pushed to the limits of their ... sociocultural potential" (Fogelson and Walker 261

1980:99; see also Fogelson and Bell 1983).

The Aged and Certain Animals Aboriginal Cherokee mythology and ceremonialism present a number of symbolic and ritual associations between the aged and certain animal species. Among the birds, the eagle (uwoali) was considered sacred and associated with the 'most beloved wise man,' the Uku, or town chief. The eagle ceremonial complex {see Speck and Broom 1951) underlined many of the rituals associated with the winter ceremonial cycle, with victory in war and, most importantly, with the celebration of peace and the return of the White standard on the Council Bouse. Eaglefeather wands, symbols of peace, were carried by the beloved men who followed the Uku in ceremonial procession. Ritual formulas for the capture of eagles were employed by the so-called Eagle-Killer, a beloved man and specialist of this hunt who had observed a period of fasting. For years, a tourist version of the Eagle Dance has been performed on the Boundary as part of the attractions during the summer tourist season. Imitation wands with painted turkey feathers are sold in tourist shops, and so-called Indian Chiefs wearing Plains-like, imitation eagle-feather war bonnets stand ready for the tourist's camera. Recently, however, a more meaningful 262 revitalization of the eagle dance has taken place in connection with the Red Clay reunion and the Indian celebrations taking place on the reservation. The eagle dance and other traditional dances are being revived thanks to the cooperation between young tribal members and the elders. While the eagle was symbolic of victory, peace and the White Chief, the raven (golanvl was unmistakably associated with the War Chief, whose native title Kalanu meant precisely 'The Raven* (Mooney 1900a:524) , This bird does not appear to be connected with any specific dance or song. Instead, as several senior citizens noted, it is commonly associated with witches, or skill, and conjuring (Fogelson 1975:123, 1980:67). Older Eastern Cherokees openly admit that witches are generally old and, in turn, this appears to be the only explicitly 'negative* association with old age in historic and modern Eastern Cherokee culture. Fogelson (1975:120) noted that old people "are increasingly suspected of practicing witch­ craft with advancing age. The ... tendency to defer to older persons ... in terms of honor or love . .. may be a euphemistic secondary rationalization ... for fear of the power of the elders," Like the raven, the owl is also associated with old people, and more specifically with witches. Both the little screech-owl (wahuhu) , the hooting owl (uguku) , and 263 the horned owl (skill) were believed to be connected with old people as potential or real witches. According to older tribal members, the association between old people, raven, owl, and witches was quite common until a few decades ago. Although several Eastern Cherokees expressed the opinion that such associations "ain't nothing but a bunch of superstitions," the belief that witches do exist is still widespread among modern Eastern Cherokees, despite the apparent conflict with Christianity. To avoid openly admitting their belief in, or knowledge of, witchcraft and witches, several older people attributed this knowledge to their elders, now long gone. According to a senior citizen: The old people say that witches can take the form of an owl and fly around at night. Now, there is a story my grandma told me ... there was a hunter who was tricked by witches; they almost killed him, but he got away. When he got back home he told the people what happened. So, they all went back look­ ing for them witches. They found an old man and an old woman sitting outside an old cabin. They asked'em 'Seen any witches around, folks?', but they shook their head. Well, the man and his friends started on their way back home ... then he says 'I remember them old folks.' As he turned around he saw two owls sitting on top of that cabin. Before he can shoot’em, they were gone. A similar tale, which associates witches with ravens, was collected by Mooney (1900a:410-403), and it refers to the so-called Raven Mockers, apparently much feared by by the Cherokees at the time of Mooney's visit at Qualla: 264

Gf all the Cherokee wizards or witches the most dreaded is the Raven Mocker (Kalanu Ahyeliskl). ...They are of either sex and ... they usually look withered and old, because they have added so many lives to their own.... The Raven Mocker ... flies through the air in fiery shape ... mak[ing] a cry like the cry of a raven when it 'dives' in the air. (1900a:401) Among older Indians, today, the owl rather thanthe raven is associated with witchcraft. One informant stated very plainly that "ugugu [the owl] is the best buddy of witches and conjurmen, but there ain't many left of them creatures 1" This belief has survived largely because of the habits of these birds who prefer the darkness of dense woods, isolated abandoned cabins, and the nighttime as their most congenial habitat. The same habits are attributed to witches and wizards and, to some extent, also to conjurers (Fogelson 1975, 19 80), To confuse people, witches assume the guises of owls at night making it difficult, as one informant explained, "to tell whether that owl is just a bird or a witch disguised as a bird." Conjurers are intrinsically 'neutral' and can direct their powers either toward good or evil purposes (compare Fogelson 19 80:66). Thus, if a conjurer assumes the guise of an owl it is not an indication of his evil intentions. As a result. Will West Long, the famous Eastern Cherokee traditionalist, "objected very strongly to the shooting of owls [saying] that people confused 265

their friends with their enemies" (Witthoft 1983:72) . In fact, in the complex aboriginal Cherokee system of associations and transformation, the ancient fire could also take on the appearance of an owl in order to detect the presence of witches and defend the people from their attacks (Witthoft 1983:72). Today, older Eastern Cherokee dissociate the occasional shooting of owls and other nightbirds with witch-hunting declaring more pragmatically that they are killed for their feathers which are used by Indian craftsmen or sold to the whites. Toward animals in general and the natural world as a whole, older tribal members express sensitivity and appreciation (compare Speck and Broom 1951:96). Many elders recalled that in their youth Indian families relied on small game as their sole source of meat, and it was customary to thank the animal world for their kindness toward man. A senior citizen proudly stated that, when he was just a little boy hunting squirrels, his grandfather— invariably referred to as an "Indian doctor" — taught him a powerful propitiatory song for hunting. According to the old man, that song always worked, as he never asked for more game than he needed. He still remembered it, even though he had not gone hunting in many years due to his weak legs. He also narrated an episode which I think is indicative of the attitude of older Indians 266

toward the animal world. Because of its intense oratory and wit the recorded narrative is transcribed in full; Yeah, there's game up here: squirrels, grouse, and wild turkeys. There were five turkeys one time up yonder, but I don't shoot'em. They've got as much right to live as I do. Now, in the old days Indians could talk to the animals, but not anymore. I tell you something that happened here some time ago, when my Mama was still alive: White folks came up here, one time. Arch's boy, Tim Arch's boy brought'em. Two guys in here had two bird-dogs; we lived up yonder, over there. They got their guns out; 'They must be gonna hunt up here,' Mama said; 'No, they are not,' I say. I went out over the porch, I say: 'Hello folks I' 'Howdy, howdy I You got anygame up here?' I say: 'Yeah, I wanna know what you folks are gonna do,* He say: 'This Indian right here [Arch's boy] tells us we can hunt anywhere in his interest. He's an Indian, he brought us up here, we wanna hunt quails and grouse.' 'He's a damn fool, that's what he is I, leaving the word Indian out. He's a damn foolI' 'But he brought us up here!' I say: 'You may as well load your dogs up in the car, you think anything of'em, load'em up, I say! I've got 240 acres my papers call for that mini-acres up here, I say. I'm gonna keep thataway, and whatever is on it if has to be killed I'll do the killing, or I don't kill'emI, and nobody is gonna hunt!' 'We're from Georgia! We'll pay you for hunting grouse.' I say: 'You don't pay me. I'm gonna pay you if you don't get the Hell outta here; I say: Mama, bring my double barrel out here! She come bringing the shotgun. 'We'll turn the dogs loose,' they say. I say: 'Turn them dogs loose if you will, there will be four dogs shot, two bird- dogs and you too!' They start whispering back there; I say: 'Talk loud enough that I can hear you!' 'We go,' they say. I say: 'Yes, I know you're gonna go. The road is wide open where you came from. And you. Arch's boy, son of a bitch, you bring another white man in here without my consent. I'll blow your brains out! If there’s gonna be any killing on my land. I'll think of it.' In a similar vein, several senior citizens have criticized the capture and caging of black bears such as those kept by some service stations and tourist booths on 267

the reservation to attract visitors. Several times while riding the SSC vans through remote areas of the Boundary, the elderly asked the driver to stop. They contemplated quietly, or whispered in Cherokee something about a bird up in a tree, a frightened opossum, or other animals they had spotted in the woods. Speaking of the animal world, some informants referred to the pervasive association between certain animals and ancient ancestors of the Cherokee people, an association that was eventually reflected in the totemic representation of three of the Cherokee clans. In ancient times, some tribal elders say, some of the Cherokee people adopted certain animals as their 'grandparents* thus developing a close relationship with them. Those who chose the bird became the Bird Clan, Anitsiskwa; those who chose the deer, became the Deer Clan, Anikawi. But most people chose the wolf as their grandparents, and they became the Wolf Clan, Aniwayah; "That is why today so many Indians belong to the Wolf clan I," The same elderly informant, who identifies himself as a member of this clan, gave the following explanation as to why many Cherokee chose the wolf: I'm a Wolf Clan, like .my mother and my ,,, great­ grandmother. My father was a Deer Clan. The Wolf Clan is an old clan. X don't know about other clans, but I know why so many Indians belong to this clan. It has to do with the wolf family ... you know, they've got clans too, ... [they] take care of 268

the young and the old, hunt together, they stick together, like our ancestors did. So, Indians and wolves were much alike in ancient times; that's how we got that name, aniwayah■ When I replied that also in my country (Italy) many people have the name of the wolf, lupo, as their surname, and that the capital city of Rome was, according to legend, founded by two boys who had been nourished by a wolf, the old Indian remarked; "Well, that tells you something about the wolf family1" In their insightful article on the wolf clan, Campbell and Campbell (1982:86} note that "common among the Cherokee Tribe were names such as: Wolf's Friend, Young Wolf, Wolf Tracker ... [and that] identification with the wolf was a mystical experience based on a penetrating perception of the wolf's life style" (see also Mooney 1900a, and Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 196 7 on wolf symbolism). The ancestral association of man with the natural world is reflected in traditional Cherokee lore. Kanati, the Lucky Hunter, the mythical grandfather, the husband of Selu, grandmother corn, kept the game of the earth inside a cave, until Kanati and Selu's children, the mythical trickster twins, the Thunder Boys, discovered the cave and freed the animals (see Mooney 1900:242-248). Like Selu's sacrifice, the destiny of certain animals was to serve the People, who in turn gave them thanks with ritual formulas and prayers that would satisfy the animals' 269 souls, allowing the "animals called out and killed by hunters [to] come back to life again. Thus there is no diminution in the supply of game animals through hunting" (Speck and Broom 1951:84). Although the old hunting days are now long gone and only minor agriculture is practiced on the reservation, a profound relationship with the natural world is felt by the tribal elders. The intensity of this relationship has been recently expressed by Mary Sneed, a well known senior citizen, in her letter published in the tribal newspaper: Memories of Sixty Years Ago. While taking a walk in the cool, soft, early summer evening in Cherokee, I reminisce: Walk in the green, green grass where golden buttercups and clover blossoms on tender stems glorify your path. Walk along the Oconaluftee River and think back to a childhood spent in this very spot 65 years ago. Praise God for the waters of the river so clear, blowing and splashing along, on and ever onward to join the Tuckasigee at Ela. Look at the blue sky with hanging soft, fleecy white clouds, and go to the huge leafy trees ... below the hospital. Sixty-five years ago when the little girl dormitory stood where the old hospital now stands - those trees nurtured many of us in our childhood spent in the Bureau of Indian Affairs Boarding school. If I was ... spanked by a matron, when I was age 6 or 7 or 9, I would go crying ... to one of those trees .. . lonesome for home and mother .... If you've ever looked to a tree for nurturing in childhood, then maybe you can now understand a great deal about the tree's growth, its beauty, its strength and endurance. Walking along I now remember some of the experiences of my childhood. Some of the real 270

happenings, and how it all affected me. How it hurt, how 1 endured, why it was done, and how I feel about it all today. I find myself trying hard to look objectively at the changes that have occurred over the years. (Sneed 1985:3) The serene beauty of the Qualla Boundary and its surround­ ing mountains has been the scene of many personal and common struggles for the Cheorkee people; anyone familiar with the Eastern Cherokees and their mountains will understand why the People refer to this part of the country as their 'beloved land.' Finally, there seems to be an overall positive connection between the animal world and the aged. This positive relationship is often reflected in tribal mythology whereby animals are often featured as helpers, assistants, and even avengers for the aged. It is the ability of the aged to communicate with the animal world that allows this kind of mythical relationship, as indicated in the following tale which shows how the breach of the social and ethical code of respect toward the aged can be punished by 'nature' . In the end the shameless young men who had ridiculed the aged acknowlege their mistake and re-enter the traditional social order sub­ mitting themselves to the traditional seniority rule. The tale, known as The Revenge of the Old Men is still popular among the Eastern Cherokee senior citizens. The following version was recorded along with other tales. 271

myths and legends by Frans M. Olbrechts in 1927 at Big Cove, and was later published by Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick: In olden times there once was a ^aduigi.... For dinner there was soup made of dried young yellow jackets. The old men in the gaduigi were very fond of this soup. The young men ran in front of the old men and joked with them. *We are going to have stinging bugs ... to eatl' they said. The old men . .. decided that they would punish them. When the young men sat down to dinner and dipped out the yellow jackets, the insects came to life and stung the young men all over.... When the old men came in, they did not say anything, but just laughed and sat down. All of the yellow jackets came back into the soup, and the old menate them. Then the old men asked the young men why they did not eat anÿ of the 'stinging bugs,' and one by one the young men shamefacedly came back and sat down. The yellow jackets did not come to life again. (1966:443) It is difficult to conclude to what extent the belief in the symbolic and ritual associations between the aged and the above mentioned medico-magical and mythical personae still play a role in intergenerational relations and the status of the aged in contemporary reservation life. The fact that both young and old Eastern Cherokees know a good many of the old 'stories,' which are often taught in school or have been published locally in addition to the already cited considerable anthropological literature, is indicative in some degree of socio­ cultural continuity. The knowledge of, and identification with, the tribal heritage implies also an awareness of the positive symbolism associated with old age. Whether such an overall positive image, which can be summarized in the 272

equation 'old equals tradition, equals tribal identity, equals positive status and respect* will be reinforced by recent cultural revival or will be replaced with white negative stereotypes, will largely depend on the direction of the socio-demographic, economic and cultural change discussed in the preceding pages. For now, it appears that what remains of the ancient symbolism of old age outweighs the negativism white society projects on aging and being old. CHAPTER VI

CONCLUSION

Over the last century many anthropologists and students of Cherokee culture have visited the Eastern Cherokee reservation eliciting information from sub­ sequent generations of tribal elders. Older tribal members, and the Eastern Cherokees in general, have shown considerable tolerance toward researchers, often extending their kind hospitality. Acting as key infor­ mants , the aged have made a substantial contribution to the formal development of Cherokee studies. However, references in the anthropological literature on this tribe give the impression that the reservation elderly are generally isolated in their mountain homes, with­ drawn from local community and tribal life, and holding on to fading traditions and beliefs. Such an image of the aged was first presented by James Mooney during his pioneering work among what he called "the last medicine men of the [Cherokee] tribe" (1900a:318) . The geography of the reservation, problems of transportation, poverty, and other limitations have supported the impression that the elderly, today, occupy a marginal ’place' in Cherokee society, 273 274

Similarly, drawing from cross-cultural evidence on the effect of modernization and change on the aged (see Cowgill and Holmes 1972), and recognizing the ad­ justments and acculturation of the Eastern Cherokees to white culture and society we should expect the senior citizens to play limited roles, to have a low social status, be generally withdrawn or disengaged from society, and no longer contribute to the vitality of the tribal community. Obviously, by the sheer process of generation­ al change under the impact of modernization, formal educa­ tion, wage economy and overall acculturation, the once isolated Eastern Cherokees have inevitably lost part of their aboriginal heritage, and with it some of the key factors that guaranteed the position of leadership, high social status and prestige of the aged in ancient Cherokee society. Notwithstanding the trends mentioned above, com­ pounded by economic and health related problems, the present study found evidence which contradicts a negativ- istic approach to the position and status of the Eastern Cherokee senior citizens in modern reservation life. While, admittedly, modernization has brought mixed bless­ ings to the Eastern Cherokees, the senior citizens have not remained passive recipients of change, They have made adjustments to avoid cultural and social alienation, and have also contributed to preserving that viable mechanism 275

of transgenerational continuity without which much of the surviving tribal culture would have been lost. The adjustments the elderly have made are even more signifi­ cant considering the seemingly pervasive character of acculturation among the Eastern Cherokees. Seen in the context of their mountain-rural and decentralized way of life, the participation of the elderly in various aspects of family, community, and tribal life is quite remarkable. Comparing the evidence gathered at Qualla with the theories of aging developed in the last three decades, I will now attempt to draw some conclusions on the way in which the Eastern Cherokees are dealing with the aging issue, and the unique historical and socio-cultural factors affecting the place of the senior citizens in contemporary reservation life. The Eastern Cherokees have, historically, maintained their separate identity from the surrounding white society. Their isolated presence in the mountains of western North Carolina has fostered the ethnic and socio-political boundaries that testify to their determi­ nation for cultural survival. Within the boundaries of their reservation the Eastern Cherokees have, despite many changes, maintained a personal, direct system of social interaction. There is no social anonymity on the Boundary and the kinship networks, although no longer based on the matrilineal clans, are socio-economically viable. At the same time, the topography of the reservation contributes 276

to residential isolation, even though this is also changing today as a result of improved means of trans­ portation, population increase, and housing development. Within such a context, the theory of social with­ drawal or disengagement that has been proposed for elderly white Americans finds little application in the Eastern Cherokee case. On the Qualla Boundary, the aged maintain their ties with the wider kinship network and the tribal community at large. Residential isolation does not nec­ essarily spell social withdrawal. The local communities through a variety of activities, and the Tribe through the senior citizens' program assist the aged in maintaining as normal a level of social involvement as possible. Residen­ tial stability also contributes to social participation, as does the tourist nature of the tribal economy in which older tribal members are more or less directly involved. The activity theory too is not useful in explaining the dynamics of aging among modern Eastern Cherokees. For elderly white Americans, activity theorists (see, for example, Lemon, Bengtson, and Peterson 1972) recommended maintaining the same levels of 'activity' of middle-age warning that a reduction thereof would lead to psycholog­ ical stress, loss of self-worth, and social withdrawal. Since no negative stereotyping against the senior citizens appears to be part of contemporary Eastern Cherokee culture, and because the aged contribute in many ways to family and 277

tribal life, the major premises of the activity theory are not relevant. Indeed, the problems often associated with middle-age among tribal people such as excessive drinking, unemployment, and broken homes make that stage of life comparatively unappealing to those who, like the senior citizens, have survived it. Furthermore, it is precisely the passage from middle to old age which marks a time when the concern of the tribal community, if not always that of the family, is directed toward older people. The preceding statement seems to contradict the findings of those socio-cultural gerontologists who have denounced the negative impact of modernization on the aged in a variety of socio-cultural contexts (see Cowgill and Holmes 1972) , The discrepancy between the modern­ ization theory and the present situation at Qualla can however be explained in historical terms. The modern­ ization approach was developed almost two decades ago in the wake of the rapid socio-economic and cultural change that followed the Second World War, Such changes were particularly felt in rural and non-western societies, in general in so-called developing countries. Here, the old socio-political and economic order in which the aged, often organized as the local gerontocracy, had positions of centrality and a high social status, was being altered by rapid modernization. The cross-cultural examples 278 collected by Cowgill and Holmes (1972) reflect the world-wide nature of this modern phenomenon. Con­ comitantly, the unprecedented increase.in the world's elderly population posed serious questions about the ability to find acceptable solutions to what has become known as 'the aging crisis'. The trends observed in western and third world countries were also present, to some extent, on many Indian reservations. At Eastern Cherokee specifically, the 1950s and 1960s were a much more difficult time for the tribal community in general and the aged in partic­ ular. Poverty, substandard living conditions, and even hunger were common among many tribal members, especially the elderly. Since the late 1960s, and throughout the last and present decade, the Eastern Cherokees have made considerable adjustments to the changes caused by modern­ ization, Improvement of the tribal economy has resulted from the 'explosion' of tourism on the reservation and in the neighboring National Park, Modernization has meant improved sanitation, better housing, nutrition and medical care, and other services specifically aimed at older tribal members. The positive impact of these changes is reflected in the increased life expectancy on the reservation from circa 60 years in 1965 to about 70 years in 1985, While the material changes brought to the Eastern 279

Cherokees were generally positive ones, the cultural ideology of modernization based, inter alia, on the rejection of the past and its traditional values, on the myth of ’youth' versus old age, has found only partial acceptance. Indeed, recent events and social trends with their emphasis on tribal heritage and iden­ tity testify to the matured awareness of the Eastern Cherokees in asserting their unique place in American life. Within such a context, the elderly have become a symbol of tribalism, Indianness, and tradition. Two decades ago, Kupferer concluded that the "Eastern Cherokees are not identified with a renascence ... have no native dances left, [and] their knowledge of other Indians ... is quite hazy" (1968:157). The oppo­ site seems quite true in the mid-1980s. In retrospect, it appears that this author barely missed the new devel­ opments on the Qualla Boundary. The same isolation that led Kupferer (1968) to reject the concept of Indian renascence for the Eastern Cherokees has, since the time of her research, worked to the Indians' relative advan­ tage as millions of tourists have been coming to Cherokee to 'see' the Native Americans. Politically, the Eastern Cherokees have come out of their 'isolation'. In 1968, the Eastern Band hosted three other southeastern tribes, the Mississippi Choctaw, the Seminole, and Miccosukee of Florida for the ceremony 280

of incorporation of USET, the United South and Eastern Tribes. This intertribal organization has since worked with local, state and federal authorities to enhance the well-being of the member tribes. At the national level, the Eastern Band is a member of the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI), the National Tribal Chairmen's Association (NTCA) , and the National Indian Council on Aging (NICOA), Specifically, the involvement of the EBCI senior citizens in the activities of NICOA is best re­ flected in the appointment in 1984 of Sherman Lillard as NICOA's chairman, Mr, Lillard, a member of the Eastern Band, is also chairman of the EBCI senior citizens' coun­ cil and an advocate for the needs of older American Indians both at the local and national level. While there is variation in the nature and extent of other elderly tribal members* involvement in tribal and intertribal activities, and in the recent cultural revival, the traditional equation "old equals good" has today assumed new meaning at Eastern Cherokee, The pos­ itive value placed on cultural tradition, tribal heritage and identity has had positive repercussions on the overall status of the senior citizens. Of course, the socio­ economic condition and prestige of the Principal Chief, or of a famous basket-maker, is higher than, for example, that of an elderly informant of mine. The former are economically well-off, live in comfortable homes, and 281 receive public recognition of their status. The letter's income is under the poverty line. He still lives alone in an old house that needs repairs. He recently applied for the Tribe's low-income weatherization program and was promised improvements on his house. Finally, he is a regular participant in the senior citizens' program at Tsali Manor which he defined as "a real blessing for many old folks". So, while the condition of individual tribal elders is still largely affected by their income and specific roles and functions, senior citizenship alone not only brings a positive cultural recognition but also actual benefits and eligibility for special programs aimed at improving the senior citizens'standard of living. Seen in historical perspective, the 1980s appear to be marked by a positive re-evalutation of the status and symbolic role of the aged in Eastern Cherokee tribal life, and by considerable progress in their wel­ fare. Problems of course remain, but the overall improve­ ments seem to support the hypothesis advanced by Soviet anthropologists that gerontophilic factors, both of a cultural and social nature, contribute to enhance the condition of older people in those societies that have withstood the negative developments of "capitalist rela­ tions" (Smirnova 1985:98). This author cites the exam­ ple of the Abkhaz, a Georgian people living near the 282

Black Sea, among whom, although "tradition has broken down to a certain extent in the sphere of old people's roles ,,, it has by no means disappeared completely" (Smirnova 1985:94-95). The aged continue to perform a variety of socio-political, economic and symbolic roles in Abkhazian life, reduced and adjusted to the demands of the twentieth century, but still viable and tradi­ tional in nature. Soviet anthropologists see, in a positive attitude toward the aged, an important geron­ tophilic factor contributing to the well being and longevity of elderly Abkhaz (see Smirnova 1985; Kozlov 1985), Aside from the question of longevity which still remains a highly debated one within the field of cross- cultural gerontology (Kozlov 1985:52-76), gerontophilia appears to characterize the policy toward the elderly of the Eastern Band and the daily interaction between the tribal community and the senior citizens. It is true that tension at times arises between younger and older generations, particularly in the area of political leader ship and control, but this is precisely an indication of the central place the aged still occupy in tribal life. Within the contemporary Native American renascence, the limited evidence on older Indians indicates that a gerontophilic trend characterizes the attitude of most Indian people toward their elders. The prejudice and 283

discrimination against the aged documented among white Americans by Levin and Levin (1980) does not seem to be characteristic of American Indians, In contrast with the gerontophobic attitudes of modern western societies and the low status assigned to old age and aging in white America (Baker 1985), modern Eastern Cherokees continue to place a positive value on the aged. Seen within the context of the last two decades, Nancy Foner's conclusion that "contrary to the predictions of the modern­ ization theory, changes have not always been detrimental to the old" (1984:245) is also applicable to the Eastern Cherokees. An additional point needs to be emphasized. If a general conclusion can be drawn from the preceding dis­ cussion on the position of the aged in past and present Eastern Cherokee society and culture, it is that the 'vanishing* concept so often applied to the tribal elderly is misleading. One observer's so-called terminal cultural stage can be viewed by someone else as a transitional one, or a prelude to a new socio-cultural cycle. In our view of older tribal members as a vanishing element of an ideal, traditional tribal society we have forgotten to see them also as individuals in context, with ties to the reality of day to day life. The transgenerational links that have allowed the Eastern Cherokees to maintain their distinct identity have occurred through the direct and 284 conscious efforts of one generation after the other. Occasionally, as happened with the removal crisis, the generation chain was weakened as a result of uncon­ trollable events. Yet, despite changes, within each generation the aged have succeeded in passing on to younger people certain distinctive features of their tribal culture and identity. To illustrate the character of this maintenance despite all undeniable changes, it will now be useful to employ as a comparative baseline not the ancient orga­ nization of the pre-removal Cherokees— too distant from the modern realities of twentieth century reservation life— but the predictions Irvin Peithmann (1964) made two decades ago as a concluding note to his history of the Cherokee Indians, Lest I be misunderstood, I wish to emphasize that my purpose in quoting Peithmann's work is by no means an attempt to prove him wrong. Rather, I use his remarks for what they then represented, plausible conclusions based on what was in the 1950s and 1960s the precarious state of the Qualla Cherokees, By comparing Peithmann's (1964) predictions with the contem­ porary situation I hope to show that older tribal members continue to constitute an integral component of Eastern Cherokee culture and society. There is, first of all, the question of language maintenance, since a native language is a primary element 285

of a people's identity. Speaking of the native lan­ guage, Peithnann noted that "only about half of the present-day population still speak the native tongue ... as the old folks pass away, it too will pass into limbo" (1964:131); more specifically, he predicted "within a few years ,.. the complete disappearance of the native tongue" (Peithmann 1964:132). Over twenty years have passed since this statement and the Cherokee language is still widely used by the present senior citizens. While the number of native speakers is today half of what it was two decades ago, this persistence should be viewed as a sign of its vitality in spite of the predictions of those who believed the Cherokee lan­ guage would have been forgotten by now. Peithmann (1964:132) was also pessimistic about the future use of the Sequoyah Syllabary in the Christian religious context: "Older people still sing their songs from their Cherokee hymn books and read their bibles [in] the Sequoyah alphabet, but this too will end as the old people die off". Today, the Sequoyah Syllabary is still popular among many senior citizens. I have attended Sunday and Wednesday services on the Boundary where the senior citizens continue to sing their hymns in Cherokee and use their native bibles. Often, when answering spe­ cific questions on native terms, concepts, or the clans, my elderly informants referred to the Syllabary which is 286 appendixed to a little hymn book many senior citizens carry at all times. As noted, the Tribal Council still employs an interpreter and a native clerk, to record the proceedings in the Syllabary. More sensitive and evasive is the question of the maintenance of native beliefs and practices, and whether today there are still elders who conduct traditional healing ceremonies and other native rituals, Peithmann noted that in the early 1960s there were "only a few conjurers left, and no one is being trained to take their place" (1964:132). I have purposely avoided discussing this issue, respecting the privacy of my informants, but I can state that it is common knowledge at Qualla that traditional curing practices are still performed on the reservation. As for the lack of so-called 'apprentices* I will relate, without any further comment what an aged Indian confided to me: "Yeah, a few months ago; I went to see J.W. [pseudo initials]. *I*ve been watching you, I said, I want you to come to my house, got something important to tell you'". As I was told, the old man had thus selected the young person he wished to instruct in certain traditional matters he wanted to be preserved. Finally, Peithmann concluded that "the old timers are vanishing with each passing year, and the new gener­ ation neither regrets nor cares. They have forgotten the past [and] they want to be like other Americans" (1964:132) 287

It is true that younger Eastern Cherokees are in many ways like other young white Americans, One needs only to visit the local high school to see the fads and trends of modern America reflected among the Indian students; baseball and basketball teams, cheerleaders and the yearly graduation could not be more mainstream America, particularly to a European observer. But, there are also the stickball games with some of the ancient taboos, the local celebrations and pow-wows with archery and blowgun contests, tribal dances and songs, traditional arts and crafts, and the active presence of the elderly among the children. Indeed, the 'past' lives on at Eastern Cherokee and has certainly not been forgotten. Undoubtedly, the ancient prestige of the beloved men and beloved grandmothers no longer survives in the contemporary reality nor in the memories of even the eldest senior citizen. That time is gone, and the changes have been profound. Nevertheless, each generation has produced its own 'old timers', always regarded as the 'last*, and yet they are still here on the threshold of the 21st century. In the distant past, traditional Cherokee society reserved a viable, visible central place for those with *grey hair*. Today, the aged are still respected and cared for, if not always by the family, by the tribal community. While many elderly persons of our modern and civilized white society face discrimination 288

and often neglect, filling hospices and nursing homes in ever growing numbers, the so-called isolated, accul- turated, 'marginal' Eastern Cherokees have so-far man­ aged to keep their old people in the community, and to value their contributions to their own lives. The Cherokee case discussed in this study indicates that the theoretical approaches to the aging issue need to be re-evaluated and questioned on the basis of new evidence and the evolving nature of the overall aging phenomenon in modern society. While it would be pre­ sumptuous to propose a new 'theory' of aging based on the limited evidence gathered at Qualla, a broad theoretical generalization seems nevertheless possible. I suggest that, beyond the constraints determined by economic and personal factors, culture— as shared identity, values, and behavior— plays an important role in shaping the way in which a society relates to its elderly members and determines their status. Thus, while older Eastern Cherokee may have the same medical, nutritional, and economic needs as most older white Americans, their place in tribal life is today largely affected by cultural factors. In fact, the present generation of senior citizens is experiencing a degree of 'cultural attention' and cultural centrality— to paraphrase Amoss (1981b)— that would have been difficult to predict only two decades ago. 289

We still need more specific case studies of local tribal situations to articulate new anthropological theories of aging that will account for the changes that have occurred among American Indians in the last twenty years. Hopefully, as I have attempted to point out in this study, more attention will be devoted to the cul­ tural environments in which Indian families and tribes are today working to address the needs of their elderly. Similarly, anthropology should investigate the ways in which the elderly themselves respond to new situations. By clarifying the nature of the elderly's adjustment to and participation in culture change— whatever direction it may take— it will be possible to postulate a new and perhaps more comprehensive theory of aging. This, in turn, could help tribal, state and federal officials in understanding trends and forces affecting the aging issue, eventually leading to better ways to assist an ever growing number of older American Indians, At Eastern Cherokee, the tribal community is re­ sponding to the needs of the senior citizens by moving toward their involvement in areas of cultural importance to the tribe, and in activities that combine both cul­ tural expression and, possibly, economic gain. At the same time, the tribe as a whole is also recognizing that the crisis of the Indian family is requiring greater tribal involvement in elderly affairs, creating a new 290

socio-cultural and economic situation the true nature of which is only now beginning to emerge. Despite its possible shortcomings, the present study was conceived as a contribution to the develop­ ing field of the anthropology of aging, and a testimony to the ancient and modern Eastern Cherokee way of ad­ dressing the inescapable reality of old age. If this paper will help the reader gain an understanding of the past and present place of the aged in Eastern Cherokee culture and society, then my effort was probably worth­ while. REFERENCES CITED

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