California Indian - Portraits from the North Coast 1890-1925 (15 pages)

JPASING= 3 / BRES Bye none2 TiehiGbe CCAS LRIREZOrR NE AGNES tween 1930 and 1932. They had been asked to help a “professor” who had approached them while they were fishing at the creek. On entering the cave, the first objects the informant and his companions saw were a piece of rusted chest armor leaning against the cave wall laying alongside a curved, grooved helmet. A few feet away was a pointed axe head with a curved blade that looked as though it might have been attached to a staff. The old man mentioned that the cave appeared to have been used for shelter, for it contained stones arranged for a fire. He stated that the professor, on seeing the armor, blurted out that it didn’t belong there, that it was from Cortes’ era. Beyond those details, the informant said he recalled only that the artifacts were going to be taken to the “California Museum.” (The author’s efforts to locate these artifacts have proved fruitless.) When questioned, the informant knew nothing else: he could not place the event into a greater context and was not familiar with the Oroville Mercury article. Regarding the “professor,” the informant first recalled that he had been wearing a dusty suit coat, but no shirt, and his pants were wet to the waist with the cuffs rolled up. The old man’s most significant memory was that the professor's glasses were the old-fashioned wire-rimmed grandpa-type and that the man had a peculiar smile. During the 1991 interviews, the informant further recalled that the professor also had worn a wide, flat-brimmed hat, a dark full beard, and was a forceful walker. Finally, the informant said that this man had been part of a small group the informant thought was from Stanford University. It is quite possible that the mysterious “professor” was John Peabody Harrington, who was conducting field work on Deer Creek during those years. Though most linguists and ethnologists of his stature would have lost no time publishing such a find as 16th-century Spanish armor, Harrington was different. Very secretive about his fieldwork, Harrington often concealed it not only from California linguist Alfred Kroeber (who did more compiling of others’ work than working in the field) but also from his superiors at the Smithsonian, perhaps out of fear of premature publication. Harrington, a perfectionist, believed in erring on the side of thoroughness and, unlike Kroeber, was almost totally devoid of hunger for professional acclaim. He wanted to get it right. Harrington was also known for his eccentric field dress, often wearing a suit with no shirt, for example. He also wore peculiar wire rimmed glasses and frequently elicited the aid of young apprentices in performing his fieldwork. He was quite well versed in ace TE Maidu women. One Feather River Maidu tribe tradition had it that the chief’s family had white blood, as reflected in their features. At least one other tribe in the region has a similar legend, of a White Spirit who appeared as a man and taught lessons of love, games and songs. 16th-century Spanish exploration and had written a related article for The Pan American Magazine in 1930. Lastly, he had attended Stanford University. At odds with this conclusion is the mention of a full beard and wide brimmed hat, neither of which Harrington wore. Finally, there are no references to the recovery of Spanish armor in what has been published of his field notes (though much of his work has not yet been published) and other than Harrington’s, there is no record of fieldwork conducted on that section of Deer Creek during the years 1930 to 1932. The “professor” may well have been nothing more than a “pot hunter.” Oe than my own research, presented here for the first time, the late William H. Hutchinson is the only historian who has addressed the Mercury article. Titled “The Oroville Hoax,” Hutchinson’s informal critique challenges the newspaper's credibility. He states that the article is the only reference to the event. He questions the miners’ use of oak to build a cabin, Castronjo’s wandering into the miner's camp and the editor running across the Spaniard. And how, Hutchinson asks, could the parchment survive so long sealed in the cavity of an oak tree? Finally, he suggests that the story made for good filler on a day when advertising sales were down, adding that Sefior Castronjo quite likely discarded the parchment soon after discovering he had been the victim of the two miners’ fraud. It is hard to say why neither Hutchinson nor any other historian made a more methodological, serious inquiry than the foregoing — more an amusing piece of case-building rhetoric than analysis. Though each of Hutchinson’s criticisms raise a valid question, his interpretation lacks balance. For example, oak is a more difficult wood to work than pine, yet after 30 years of extensive mining enterprises (along with a burgeoning lumber industry), there would have been few pines left standing on the lower Middle Fork. Further, oak is more common to the region. Hutchinson’s dismissal of the editor’s encounter with Castronjo as an unlikely event does not consider the nature of how news travels on the frontier. By 1879, Oroville’s population had diminished and in such a played-out mining district, the local “word-of-mouth” network would have enthusiastically taken up the mysterious parchment. Moreover, the Mercury’s statement that the writer “ran across” the Spaniard while “in quest” of items is preceded by a description of the discovery — suggesting that the newspaper had prior knowledge of the miners’ find and, possibly, its sale. The frontier journalism of the Feather River region was seldom precise and the writer's particular indifference to reporting the specifics of each event would seem the norm rather than the exception. If the story was fabricated to sell newspapers, it seems unlikely that the writer would print the name of each party involved — particularly if there were real people behind the names.

JPASING= 3 / BRES Bye none2 TiehiGbe CCAS LRIREZOrR NE AGNES tween 1930 and 1932. They had been asked to help a “professor” who had approached them while they were fishing at the creek. On entering the cave, the first objects the informant and his companions saw were a piece of rusted chest armor leaning against the cave wall laying alongside a curved, grooved helmet. A few feet away was a pointed axe head with a curved blade that looked as though it might have been attached to a staff. The old man mentioned that the cave appeared to have been used for shelter, for it contained stones arranged for a fire. He stated that the professor, on seeing the armor, blurted out that it didn’t belong there, that it was from Cortes’ era. Beyond those details, the informant said he recalled only that the artifacts were going to be taken to the “California Museum.” (The author’s efforts to locate these artifacts have proved fruitless.) When questioned, the informant knew nothing else: he could not place the event into a greater context and was not familiar with the Oroville Mercury article. Regarding the “professor,” the informant first recalled that he had been wearing a dusty suit coat, but no shirt, and his pants were wet to the waist with the cuffs rolled up. The old man’s most significant memory was that the professor's glasses were the old-fashioned wire-rimmed grandpa-type and that the man had a peculiar smile. During the 1991 interviews, the informant further recalled that the professor also had worn a wide, flat-brimmed hat, a dark full beard, and was a forceful walker. Finally, the informant said that this man had been part of a small group the informant thought was from Stanford University. It is quite possible that the mysterious “professor” was John Peabody Harrington, who was conducting field work on Deer Creek during those years. Though most linguists and ethnologists of his stature would have lost no time publishing such a find as 16th-century Spanish armor, Harrington was different. Very secretive about his fieldwork, Harrington often concealed it not only from California linguist Alfred Kroeber (who did more compiling of others’ work than working in the field) but also from his superiors at the Smithsonian, perhaps out of fear of premature publication. Harrington, a perfectionist, believed in erring on the side of thoroughness and, unlike Kroeber, was almost totally devoid of hunger for professional acclaim. He wanted to get it right. Harrington was also known for his eccentric field dress, often wearing a suit with no shirt, for example. He also wore peculiar wire rimmed glasses and frequently elicited the aid of young apprentices in performing his fieldwork. He was quite well versed in ace TE Maidu women. One Feather River Maidu tribe tradition had it that the chief’s family had white

blood, as reflected in their features. At least one other tribe in the region has a similar legend, of a White Spirit who appeared as a man and taught lessons of love, games and songs. 16th-century Spanish exploration and had written a related article for The Pan American Magazine in 1930. Lastly, he had attended Stanford University. At odds with this conclusion is the mention of a full beard and wide brimmed hat, neither of which Harrington wore. Finally, there are no references to the recovery of Spanish armor in what has been published of his field notes (though much of his work has not yet been published) and other than Harrington’s, there is no record of fieldwork conducted on that section of Deer Creek during the years 1930 to 1932. The “professor” may well have been nothing more than a “pot hunter.” Oe than my own research, presented here for the first time, the late William H. Hutchinson is the only historian who has addressed the Mercury article. Titled “The Oroville Hoax,” Hutchinson’s informal critique challenges the newspaper's credibility. He states that the article is the only reference to the event. He questions the miners’ use of oak to build a cabin, Castronjo’s wandering into the miner's camp and the editor running across the Spaniard. And how, Hutchinson asks, could the parchment survive so long sealed in the cavity of an oak tree? Finally, he suggests that the story made for good filler on a day when advertising sales were down, adding that Sefior Castronjo quite likely discarded the parchment soon after discovering he had been the victim of the two miners’ fraud. It is hard to say why neither Hutchinson nor any other historian made a more methodological, serious inquiry than the foregoing — more an amusing piece of case-building rhetoric than analysis. Though each of Hutchinson’s criticisms raise a valid question, his interpretation lacks balance. For example, oak is a more difficult wood to work than pine, yet after 30 years of extensive mining enterprises (along with a burgeoning lumber industry), there would have been few pines left standing on the lower Middle Fork. Further, oak is more common to the region. Hutchinson’s dismissal of the editor’s encounter with Castronjo as an unlikely event does not consider the nature of how news travels on the frontier. By 1879, Oroville’s population had diminished and in such a played-out mining district, the local “word-of-mouth” network would have enthusiastically taken up the mysterious parchment. Moreover, the Mercury’s statement that the writer “ran across” the Spaniard while “in quest” of items is preceded by a description of the discovery — suggesting that the newspaper had prior knowledge of the miners’ find and, possibly, its sale. The frontier journalism of the Feather River region was seldom precise and the writer's particular indifference to reporting the specifics of each event would seem the norm rather than the exception. If the story was fabricated to sell newspapers, it seems unlikely that the writer would print the name of each party involved — particularly if there were real people behind the names.