TESTIMONY OF AN INDIAN AGENT.
[Major Gassman, who was formerly engaged in the ministry at Omaha, Nebraska, but who now is serving as Indian agent in Dakota, recently paid a visit to Hampton, where he gave to the students an interesting account of his experience in Indian work, which was published in the Southern Workman, and from which we make the following extracts.—Ed.]
I went to my post with fear and trembling. I had had no experience, no business experience, or any but in the ministry; but I was sure of one thing, that good, honest, persistent effort would bring good results. I had heard about many of the iniquities and shortcomings of agents. My friends warned me against the position. I knew that the name of Indian agent had become almost a synonym of rascal or cheat. I felt, however, that it was a position a man could fill with honesty and integrity and good results. So I went to work.
I was horrified at the state of things I found. For many years an agency had been established; thousands of dollars had been expended; a great many men had been employed. But I saw that the Indians were discouraged, doing nothing, sulky and averse to effort. I arrived at the agency early in April, and found that the fields had been left for a year untilled and in a filthy condition. I had had early experience as a farmer. I called the Indians together, and told them they must clean their fields. They said they had no teams or ploughs. I asked if they couldn’t at least clean them up? They said yes. I told them to begin and I’d see what I could do for them, but there was no time to lose. They said they would start to-morrow. The next morning I was waked by loud talking. I looked out and saw at least fifty women with hoes, axes and shovels on their shoulders—not a man among them. I took an interpreter and went out to them. They said they had come to clean the fields. I said that was good, but I hadn’t sent for them, but for the men. They laughed at that idea—it was a novelty. I told them the men must come, gave them some good advice on household work for women—on which I am well posted—and sent them home. They went their way, and that was the end of the work. I couldn’t get an Indian man out that time. I was puzzled what to do next. I went out to the fields with the interpreter, and we did find one old man who had gone to work. I told him to go on, and I’d plow what he would clean up, which I did. This encouraged one and another by degrees, with the gift of extra rations, and so at last we got the fields cleaned and planted.
The first year, though, was very trying, owing to my ignorance of the Indian character. I spoke to them as I would to any one else about truth and duty, etc., but met constant, persistent opposition. I was wearied to death with their councils. Fifty to a hundred great stalwart Indians would walk into my office, sit down on the floor, and begin to smoke. Then I would wait with patience till one of them would rise and make their wants known, and I would answer them. But everything I proposed they would oppose, for some reason I did not understand. They would tell me my words were sweet, but that like all other white men, I was a liar. So it went on for a year. It was rather hard to take their plain talk, especially as I am somewhat of a muscular Christian. I gave them, however, as good, plain talk as they sent, and let them understand what I thought of them.
But at the end of a year I thought I might as well give it up. I wrote to my friends that I thought of resigning. Then I called the Indians to a last council. I told them what I felt, why I came, what I had endeavored to do. I spoke feelingly. When I had finished, an old chief, “Struck by the Ree,” got up and said: “We have listened to your words for a year. We have now come to the conclusion that we will both listen and obey. We had been told that you were not a good man. Many of us believed what we heard, but you have convinced us that you are good, and we will obey you.”
Well I stayed, and I had no more trouble, except such as was unavoidable. The councils were more and more pleasant. I never had a rude or disagreeable word from them again. They would sometimes disagree with me, but generally took my advice, and were always courteous.
I laid before them first this plan. I told them that rations and aid from government are only temporary. They will come to an end. They are given to aid them to be self-supporting. I told them I had come to help them to become so. They were not much interested in that idea at first, but as continued dropping wears away the rock, my words from day to day had some effect, and here and there I saw some improvement.
I found all the work at the agency done by whites—only two Indians employed out of 2,000 Sioux at the station. I employed the Indians as fast as possible to give them work. I put one boy in the blacksmith shop, another with the carpenter, another in the mill, two or three with the agency farmer, two in the butcher house, and to help issue rations. When I came there I found the cattle were slaughtered in a brutal manner, shot in a filthy yard, where the Indians dressed the meat in a careless, unclean way. I applied for a slaughter-house, cattle-pens and a proper butcher, and got them. I put my Indian boys with him, as I said, and at the end of a month they could take hold and do the work properly themselves, and did it so six years. The beef was issued clean.
The system of employing Indians and encouraging industry was pleasing. They were glad to see their young men employed; they were willing to go to work when there was any encouragement to do so.
I had several thousand bushels of wheat to harvest. I succeeded in getting the ground broken, the crop cultivated, the wheat ground and eaten up, too. While they were threshing one hot day, some of the Indians gave out. They sent me word from the field that two more men were needed. I went out on my horse and looked about, but couldn’t see an Indian anywhere but in the field. I rode to the trader’s store, and there I found a young Indian gentleman, gotten up in fine style, with red blanket, embroidered leggings and moccasins, looking glass and fan; face painted, hair braided and ornamented with feathers—“a fancy buck,” so they say out on the frontier. I went up to him, laid my hand on his shoulder, and said, “Friend, I want you.” He looked up with an independent air, and said, “How!” I told him to get on his horse and follow me, which he did. I took him into the field and up to the threshing machine, and told the interpreter to tell him I wanted him to work and would pay him so much. The Indian boys around laughed. I told them to be quiet. He said “How,” and went at it. The only vacant place at the machine was where the chaff and dust comes pouring out—not an agreeable place for him—pouring out on his paint and oil. He never had a pitchfork in his hands before, but he went to work manfully. Pretty soon off came his red blanket; then off came the paint itself in streaks. Piece by piece came off the rest of his toggery, till the Indian was an Indian but not much besides. But he stuck to that pitchfork. I watched him; if he had given out I would have taken his place; but there was no give out to him; he worked right on for three days; at the end of the time his delicate hands were all bleeding.
That shows the pluck of the Indian. I have had other employés, who had never done a thing before in the way of labor, work till the blood ran down their hands. This one was, of course, a remarkable case. But I have had Indians who labored for me industriously for eight years without ever losing one day.
It was difficult to get them to save their wages. I finally adopted a system of banking for them. They let me lay aside their wages till the end of the quarter. Then we talked over the question what they had better buy, and under my advice they generally spent their money in useful articles, wagons, harness, stoves, furniture, etc.
I received satisfactory evidence that the Indian can be made a laboring man, but in order to do it we must pay him good wages to start with.