3. MOENKOPI IN HOPI-LAND

In the fall of 1858 Jacob Hamblin led a group of Mormon missionaries to the Hopi village of Oraibi, Arizona. The group included Ira Hatch, Andrew Gibbons, Thales Haskell, Thomas and Dudley Leavitt, Fredrick and William Hamblin, Samuel Knight, Benjamin Knell, and Lucius Fuller. There was a persistent legend that the Hopis spoke Welsh, so James Davis, a Welshman, was sent along. Spanish was the universal language of the Southwest, hence an interpreter in that language was essential. Unable to find a grown man for that purpose, they took along a fourteen-year-old boy, Ammon Tenney, whose family had been recently recalled from San Bernardino where he had become fluent in Spanish. Jacob had learned of the Hopis from the Piutes. According to them, these people lived in houses and wove cotton for clothing like the whites. To Jacob Hamblin and Brigham Young, these stories meant almost as much as the stories of Cibola meant to Coronado, with this difference: Coronado envisioned gold while Brigham Young dreamt of missionary work to the last remnants of the Book of Mormon peoples, descendants of the Jews.

The Mormons knew the Hopis only by the term the Navajos used for them: Moqui or “death”. The name was appropriate. Over a century the Hopis had lost ninety percent of their tribe. Their own name for themselves was Hopi, meaning the righteous, cooperative, and peaceful people. In December the missionaries had to return home because the village was nearly out of food. They very nearly died before they could make it back to the Santa Clara fort in Utah^1,2.

Again in 1859 the missionaries returned, this time leaving two of their number, Haskell and Shelton, in the pueblo for the winter. Haskell recorded some of his feelings as they said farewell to those returning home:

“Slowly and sorrowfully I wended my way back to the village. Such a feeling of utter loneliness I never experienced before, for search the wide world over, I do not believe a more bleak, lonesome, heart sickening place could be found on the earth where human beings dwell. And here we are, brother Shelton and me, with strange Indians who talk a strange language; who but Mormons would do it, could make up their minds to stay here for a year?”³

Perhaps Ernest Tietjen had some of the same feelings when he was called to that area a few years later. The third fall, the missionaries came at the request of the Hopis; they were asked if they could help settle some of their differences with the Navajos. All along, Jacob had gloomy forebodings, and his worst fears were realized the second day after they crossed the Colorado River. They met a party of four friendly Navajos, travelling ahead of a larger band, who warned them to turn back or to go to Spanneshank’s camp for protection because they were about to be attacked. The larger band of Indians was smoldering with resentment from an attack by the Army in which they had lost three warriors. Now they wanted three lives in revenge, and any three white men would do. The missionaries thought that Spanneshank’s camp was too far away for their thirsty animals, so they made the mistake of pressing on toward the Hopi pueblos.

With the group was Ira Hatch and his Indian wife, Sarah Dyson. Sarah was the daughter of the Navajo chief, Spanneshank, and a Piute woman; she described herself as a woman of the “Kaibabits” tribe. The mixed marriage of Sarah’s parents made them unwanted by either tribe, and they lived in Kanab with the Mormons until the mother died. Spanneshank then gave the little girl Sarah to Ira Hatch and took his son Peokon with him to rejoin his people. Unable to be at home very much, Ira turned Sarah over to Andrew Gibbons to raise. When Sarah was sixteen, visiting Church Authorities urged Ira Hatch to marry her in order to cement relationships with the Indians. This he did, and it was fortunate for all their lives that he now had her along.

While Ira and his wife were adjusting their packs, the Navajos swooped down on them, shrieking and yelling. Sarah’s horse jerked away and a Navajo was trying to lift her upon the back of his horse when Ira rode up and lashed the Indian across the face with his quirt until the blood spurted. This gained the approval of some of the older Indians, for they shouted, “He is worthy of his wife, see him fight for her!” The Navajos were determined not to let them go on to the Hopi villages, but said they might return home if they would trade their goods.

The next morning, while trading, the horses were taken to water. One of them broke away and went over a hill, and young George A. Smith, a son of one of the Mormon Apostles, started after it. Out of sight, he was shot by one of the Navajos with his own revolver, then received three arrows in his back. The boy died and they had to leave his body on the desert, with only some branches and rocks to cover it. The Indians were thirsting for two more lives. Jacob says that

“I went a little way off by myself, and asked the Lord to be merciful and pity us in our miserable and apparently helpless condition, to make known to me what to do and say to extricate us from our difficulties.”

He received an assurance that no others would be harmed. With the help of their four friends, they made it to Spanneshank’s camp⁴. We relate this story at this point because Ernest Tietjen later married Amanda Hatch, the little daughter of Ira and Sarah.

This trip surely dampened the enthusiasm for missionary work, but Jacob nevertheless continued to visit the Hopis every year. In March, 1859, the friendly chief, Tuba, took the missionaries to Moenkopi, forty miles west of their village, where they had summer farms, and invited them to settle there and build a mill. This invitation was unusual in two respects. The Hopis had nursed a long-standing hatred of Spanish priests and had killed several of them who sought to stay in the village. They also acted in spite of a visit the previous summer from U.S. soldiers who gave them tools and told them to kill the Mormons if they came again.

The Blackhawk Indian War in Utah had involved many Navajos who had escaped Kit Carson’s net by moving north of the Colorado. Their belligerent and wounded spirits found ready allies in local Indians who knew the country and knew where stock could be stolen. The Navajos plundered the herds in southern Utah on a scale the other Indians could not conceive of. In 1870 Jacob Hamblin went to Ft. Defiance with his friend, John Wesley Powell, to conclude a peace treaty between the Mormons and the Navajos. Over 8000 Indians were present, and a peace and trade agreement was drawn up. On the return trip, chief Tuba and his wife were persuaded to accompany Jacob back to Utah to visit Brigham Young and the couple spent nearly a year living with the Mormons in Kanab.

For several years the peace was uninterrupted. Then a most unfortunate event occurred in December, 1873. Four sons of the Navajo Chief, Kutchene, were on a trading trip to Grass Valley, Utah, and were caught in a blizzard. They holed up in a deserted cabin. Without food, they killed a calf. A non-Mormon rancher named McCarty found them with the beef and shot and killed three of them. The fourth escaped in the snowstorm and badly wounded as he was, managed to reach and ford the icy Colorado River and inform his kinsmen that Mormons had done the deed. [A slightly different version, reported in other sources, claimed that McCarty and his brother and a Mormon named Clinger were suspicious that the Navajos had stolen a calf when the Indians arrived at their cabin and took possession of the building while the whites fled to a stable. The Navajos ate the breakfast which the men had prepared. The whites rolled a huge bale of hay toward the cabin and the Indians panicked and ran for Clinger’s horse. The whites pursued and shot the Indians as they ran.]

That same year John Blythe had been appointed to lead a second colonizing venture to Moenkopi. The first expedition had given up in discouragement, and Brigham Young was furious. Blythe had begun work by ferrying logs across the Colorado. When Brigham heard of the killings, he sent Jacob Hamblin to tell the Navajos that the Mormons had no part in the outrage. Near Moenkopi, Jacob was joined by two non-Mormon friends who told the story of later events. The Navajos were in such a frenzy that Jacob’s friends made every effort to keep him from going, but he would not be dissuaded. The three of them rode into the Navajo camps where Jacob was put on trial for his life. The Navajos believed in an eye for an eye, and it was to be Jacob’s life for the life of the three Navajo brothers. He was to be roasted over coals.

The only chiefs present were Kutchene, father of the boys, and Peokon, son of Spanneshank. After ten hours of speeches so fiery that the interpreter refused to translate, Jacob was still giving patient but firm replies. At length the demands shifted to a payment of 350 head of cattle as reparation. This demand had been urged on the Navajos by W.F. Arny, the Navajo agent in New Mexico. Jacob refused the bargain—his people had not done the deed and they would not pay for it. In the wee hours of the morning it was agreed that Jacob would present the demands to Brigham Young and return and report in 25 days. At the given time, Jacob returned to Moenkopi as promised, but could find no Indians. There must have been a misunderstanding about the date. Jacob was quite ill and affirmed again that the Mormons had not done the deed and would not pay for it, then he went back home. The remainder of the story is told by John R. Young:

“When Peokon learned that Jacob had gone home without coming to see him, he was madder than ever. He sent word to Ira [Hatch] that if he and Blythe did not come to see him that he would scalp every white person at the Moencoppy. Ira and Blythe went at once. At night they were taken into the same hogan that Jacob was court-martialled in. All night long they were shrieked and yelled at. Every button was hacked off Blythe’s coat with butcher knives; glittering knives were drawn across his throat with demoniac gestures, Ira said, without Blythe batting an eye. At last the decree came that Blythe should be roasted. The fire was ready. When the prisoner asked if he might pray, the answer was ‘Yes, tell him to pray, and then we’ll put him on those coals and see whether he will cry or not.’ Ira and Blythe knelt down and a calm, pleading, pitiful prayer ascended to God, asking for mercy and blessing upon the Navajos, for they knew not what they were doing. Not one word was asked for themselves.

“The prayer was ended; Blythe asked if he should disrobe. Peokon said, ‘Tell us what he said.’ Then Ira’s tongue was loosened. He talked until every heart was softened and the old men’s cheeks were wet with tears. For a few moments all was still as death. Then Peokon told the two young men, ‘Get their horses and saddle them.’ That done, he said, ‘Get on your horses and go; don’t stop until you get home. If you do, my men will kill you. Now go!’

“As soon as Ira and Blythe got home, they wrote a letter to Bishop Stewart and myself, narrating their adventure, and added that the Navajos were still clamoring for revenge for their murdered sons. I telegraphed the letter to President Young. The answer came for me to raise a company of men and go and bring our people back to this side of the Colorado and leave the Navajos alone until they learned who their friends were. I moved promptly in the matter. Andrew S. Gibbons of Glendale, Thomas Chamberlain of Mt. Carmel, Frank Hamblin of Kanab, each with a platoon, responded to my call. Jacob Hamblin accompanied us. Upon reaching Moenkopi, he asked me to rest four days and let him spend two days with [the Hopis]. In the morning of the fourth day, an Indian runner came into my camp and told Ira that the Navajos had planned to intercept Jacob at the head of a hollow about 12 miles east of us and kill him.

“I called for our horses and selected ten of our best mounted men, Ira and Frank Hamblin included, and rode for that hollow. When we came onto the swell that overlooked the flat or valley where the hollow terminated, we saw Jacob just starting down the descent on the opposite side. At the same moment, we saw a squad of Indians emerge from a bend of the hollow, riding full gallop toward him. I yelled to the boys, ‘Let every man do his best to reach Jacob before the Indians do!’ Then there commenced a lively race. Jacob was riding a big sorrel mule of Bishop Esplin’s. She was a reliable animal, but not a racer. Jacob had been warned of his danger, so he saw at a glance it was no time for fooling. In vain he urged his mule, but she would not run. The Indians saw it, and exultantly gave the war whoop. That war whoop was a blessing. Old Satan, the mule’s name, sniffed the air, threw up her head, and stampeded. Jacob, clinging with both hands to the mane, came out the winner. The Navajos wheeled and retreated while we gathered around Jacob and cheered him heartily⁵.”

On the mesa above the Moenkopi wash stood an ancient Indian village and there the missionaries located and began to build. Late in May, 1876, an Indian runner came with the news that a Mormon party had met with disaster while crossing the Colorado river, and that the great Mormon chief had drowned. It was feared at first that this was Brigham Young, and there was great anxiety among the little party, but finally definite news came that it was Lorenzo W. Roundy, of the Daniel H. Wells party, who had drowned.

Brigham Young may have sensed that he would not be around long enough to direct the Indian missionary work and colonization of Arizona. He sent a party of missionaries with Daniel Jones in 1875 to begin the colonization of Mexico, and we relate in the next chapter how two of those missionaries, Ammon Tenney and R.H. Smith, found the Zuni Indians and baptized many of them. Without awaiting the outcome of their mission, Young now sent a group of 200 colonists into Arizona to make settlements. Three years previously the first group had given up in despair and Brigham now sent a man of iron in the person of Lot Smith to make sure he stayed. Just prior to this, in October, 1875, he called another tough old veteran, James S. Brown, to head up a group of missionaries to the Hopis and Navajos. According to Brown, Brigham said,

“Bless your soul, the Spirit does and has dictated to me all the time to send you to take charge of a mission in that country. You are just the man for it, and if I had sent you before, we would have had a mission and settlements there now … Just get a list of names of good men, and hand them to me—a list of men that will stand by you, but none of your babies. I want good men to go with you on this mission, so hand me a list of names. When the conversation ended, I returned home, and after much thought and prayer for the guidance of the Lord, wrote the following names, my own at the head of the list: Daniel B. Roson, John C. Thompson, Seth B. Tanner, Morton P. Mortensen, Bengt Jenson, Hans Funk, Ernest Tietjen and John Davies. The latter got excused, and President Young added the following: Andrew L. Gibbons, Luther C. Burnham, Thales H. Haskell, Ira Hatch, Warren M. Johnson and William H. Gibbons. These were called on a mission October 9, 1875,at the General Conference. On Monday, October 11, we were set apart for our mission⁶.”

Ernest was set apart by Lorenzo Snow who later became the president of the Church. The letter which Brigham Young wrote to Ernest Tietjen was paraphrased by Sam Young as follows: “Locate as near as you can in the heart of the Navajo Indian country, learn their language, their habits, customs, and ways. Teach them the gospel and a better way to live.” Ernest was always proud of these words of instruction. Ernest reached Moenkopi, Arizona, with this group on December 3, 1875. There Brown declares that he

“was impressed to make this place winter quarters and designated a site for a fort … Near this place were some old Indian farms and a few stone huts laid up without mortar, but all had been deserted. There were also some springs nearby. The morning after we had camped there, a small hunting party of Navajos came in, and after we had given them their breakfast they smoked their corn-husk cigarettes and departed. A.S. Gibbons, Ira Hatch and I examined the country around Moancoppy and found a few ponds of water and a good place for a reservoir to catch the spring rains; we also discovered a fertile spot of a few acres, and two small springs. T.H. Haskell and Ira Hatch, our interpreters, went to the Oriba Indian village, some fifty miles away. On their return, they reported all was peaceful; they were accompanied by Chief Tuba and his wife Telssinimki, who were highly pleased to see their old friends. On the 8th we laid out a house twenty by forty feet and twelve feet high to be built of stone.”

While Brown and others were exploring the country, Ernest and a few others stayed at Moenkopi where they made adobes and laid up rock for the fort. Sam Young writes that Ernest was the general “mason-tender” and that he “carried the hod”, i.e. he mixed all the mortar and carried it to the builders. Bricklayers regard this job as the most important task in their success as masons. Most of the missionary work among the Indians was done in the winter, and because the missionaries had to provide for themselves and their families, they usually went home to tend their crops during the growing season. Ernest was still in Arizona in July, however. With the coming of late fall, Ernest and Luther Burnham were sent to strengthen the promising missionary work at Savoia, New Mexico, which Ammon Tenney had begun. We will hear more of it in the next chapter.

While Ernest and his companions were building the fort and other houses, James Brown, Seth Tanner, and Thales Haskell started an exploring trip that lasted until July. Brown writes that,

“While on this journey we were traveling along the Rio Perco, a tributary of the Rio Grande del Norte, when, on June 17th, as we were following a trail through a forest, an Indian stepped out from the edge of the undergrowth, he held up his hand, and said: ‘Stop! Who are you, where do you come from, where are you going, and what is your business in the Navajo country?’ ‘We are Mormons from Utah,’ was our response, in Spanish, the language in which our interrogator had spoken. ‘Stop your wagon under this tree,’ continued he, indicating a place, ‘and talk to us; for we hear the Mormons have the history of our forefathers. The Americans and Spaniards say you claim this, but we know they often speak falsely, and we wish to learn from your own lips whether you have such a record, and how you came by it. We want you to stop here till our people come together, and you can tell us the truth.’

“I was asked to get out of the wagon, and as I was doing so a large number of Indians appeared, coming from all directions. Almost before I realized it, there were two hundred and fifty to three hundred Navajos there, men, women and children. My chair was taken out of the wagon [Brown had one leg amputated], a blanket was spread for me, and I sat down, the Indians sitting close around. Two chiefs, who I learned were Juan San Juall and Jualito, sat as near to me as they could, and one of them said, ‘If you have the book of our forefathers, tell us about God and them, and how you came by the book.’

“I produced a copy of the Book of Mormon, told them it was a record of God’s dealing with their forefathers, and explained to them how it was revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith by an angel. As I proceeded to tell what was in the Book of Mormon, tears came to the eyes of many in the audience, and some of them spoke out, ‘We know that what you say is true, for the traditions of our good old men who never told a lie agree with your story. Our forefathers did talk with God, and they wrote; and when they became wicked and went to war, they hid up their records, and we know not where they are. At this point the chiefs and about ten other leading men rose up and embraced me, saying, ‘Continue to tell us of God and our forefathers, for it does our hearts good to hear of them.’

“I talked on for a time and when I was through, Messrs. Tanner and Haskell, who had listened to what had been going on, bore witness that what I had said was true. We remained with the Indians for dinner, and they wanted us to stay longer, but we felt that it was better to proceed on our journey. This meeting, one of the most sudden and singular in my experience, occurred in New Mexico, about thirty miles north of the old mail route from Albuquerque westward. When it was over, we continued our journey south and west, turned west to Fort Wingate, then on to Fort Defiance, and through the Moquis villages to our settlement⁷.”

Ernest surely took note of this story in his future travels among the Navajos. On the 24th of July, the women in Moenkopi were preparing a feast in honor of the Pioneers who had entered Salt Lake Valley in 1847. The men were working in the gardens, down in the wash below the Mesa. One of the women spotted a dust cloud which turned out to be approaching Indians. James S. Brown stepped to the edge of the mesa and called the men from below. The band of Navajos and Piutes was led by Chief Peokon. The scene is described by LeRoi C. Snow:

“They were led by Chief Piecon, who dramatically thrust forth a youth, saying, ‘Here he is, take him and do as you please.’ Brother Brown was astonished, as were the others, and asked, ‘What do you mean? What has the boy done?’ ‘Punish him,’ replied the Indian Chief, ‘be as severe as you wish. Although he is my son, he deserves severe punishment, and we wish you to use him as an example, even though it may mean his death.’ ‘But,’ asked Brother Brown, ‘what has the boy done?’ It was then explained that the boy had stolen and killed three cattle belonging to the Saints at the settlement of Sunset on the Little Colorado River, that there had been considerable stealing and killing of cattle. The Indian wanted the practice stopped and thought the case serious enough for most drastic punishment.

“Brother Brown explained that the act was not so serious, that he would accompany the chief and his party to the Sunset settlement where he believed adjustment could be made by the Indians paying for the three cattle or replacing them. He thought the Saints would require no more. The band of Navajos was accompanied by a band of Piutes, who usually did the dirty work for the Navajos. They were armed with bows and arrows, painted and bedecked with war paraphernalia. They strutted about, drawing their bows and threatening the people. They were seeking trouble. Just at this time, word was given that the big feast was ready. The chief and others of the Indians were invited to the tables, while the food was distributed among all others of both bands.”

The feast was enjoyed by everyone. Resuming the council, Chief Peokon explained that it was not his son that had killed the cattle but that the Mormon settlers at Sunset had killed three animals belonging to the Indians. Snow says, “the wily Chief had hoped to have Brother Brown pronounce punishment on his son, which he in turn would mete out upon the Mormon people.” Brown expressed his regret that the Mormons had been guilty of the act and wished to have the chief go with him to Sunset. It was learned there that the starving settlers ran across the cattle and, believing them to be strays that would never be claimed, killed them for food. The Saints were quite willing to make reparation, and the Indians were entirely satisfied.⁸ Probably Ernest’s sister, Ida Farnsworth, was also there. She and her husband, Alonzo, were one of seven families residing there in September, 1878, when Jesse N. Smith visited there. This event taught Ernest a lesson in justice he would never forget.

While at Moenkopi, Brown asked to be taken to the camp of Chief Hustelo, some twenty five miles distant. He intended to stay there with them in order to learn the Navajo language. He says,

“It was arranged that I should be left there alone, except that Ira Hatch’s eight-year-old girl was to stay with and wait on me. The Indian camp was located two or three miles from where George A. Smith Jr. was killed some years before, probably by the same Indians … Chief Hustelo was friendly; not so his people, except a few old men. The young men were very surly, and would not talk … The next day or two I was threatened and ill-treated, the burrs taken off my wagon, and I was subjected to other annoyances. The little girl with me did fairly well, for being a half-breed Indian herself, she affiliated with the Indian children without difficulty … Then the Indians became less offensive in their conduct day by day”⁹

This little girl, Amanda Hatch, and her brothers lived with the Indians until Ira moved to Sunset in 1876. Eight years later in Ramah she married Ernest Tietjen.

One little Indian boy, named Sam, made friends with Ernest and wanted to go back with him to Utah. To this Ernest consented readily, for he wished the boy to teach him the Navajo language. The boy went with Ernest to Santaquin, then spent the winter going to school in Santaquin while Ernest went to Savoia. It was a year before Ernest returned to Santaquin for his wives. By then the boy had had quite enough of the white man’s way of life. He had not been well treated in school. He went with Ernest to Savoia. He had learned English well enough to become an interpreter and in later years went to work for the government at Ft. Wingate.¹⁰

 

Ira Hatch Family; Amanda Hatch standing [click for more Tietjen photos]