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Revising captivity narratives

University of Florida Institutional Repository

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REVISING CAPTIVITY NARRATIVES By WILLIAM CLAY KINCHEN SMITH A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 2002

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Copyright 2002 by William Clay Kinchen Smith

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I would like to dedicate this work to my family, especially my wife Beth and our children Bonnie, and Jess. Their love has supported me throughout all the hesitations and frustrations of this dissertation.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I have been especially blessed during this process. Each time someone helped me along the way, I came to a fuller realization of the essential good in all people. This work has been a confirmation of that truth. I would like to acknowledge everyone who played key roles in this project. First, and foremost, I would like to acknowledge God for the mercy given me during this process. As a result, I have made mercy a lesson for my own life. I would like to acknowledge my committee members extraordinary efforts on my behalf. Each of the committee has demonstrated qualities that distinguish them as individuals and scholars. I have truly been fortunate to work with each of them. I would like to thank Don Ault for his constant effort on my behalf, both professionally and personally. He has truly never let me down. To Carl Bredahl I would like to say thank you for your belief in my abilities to complete this project. His influence has determined much of its agenda. To John Cech I would also like to say thank you for broadening my horizons through your work on childrens literature and for modeling the gentleman scholar. Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank Eldon Turner for his patience and persistence in helping me realize my goal. Finally, I would also like to thank five people who have proven especially instrumental in realizing this project. To Kathy Williams, I would like to say thank you for everything that you have ever done for my family and me. To John Van Hook, I would like to say thank you for your enthusiasm and expertise. To Helen Martin, I would iv

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like say thank you for your patience and your diligence throughout this entire process. To Bill Stephenson, I would like to say thank you for your continuing faith in my abilities. And to Jim Albury, I would like to say thank you for your time and innumerable talents: your facility and grace are inspiring. I am truly honored to have known and worked with each of these extraordinary people and will always cherish those experiences. v

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TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.................................................................................................iv ABSTRACT.......................................................................................................................xi CHAPTERS 1 INTRODUCTION.........................................................................................................1 Origins and Effects of the Canon..................................................................................6 Critical Sources...........................................................................................................13 Methodology...............................................................................................................17 Modes of Representation............................................................................................19 Captivity-as-Complexity....................................................................................19 Captivity-as-Comedy.........................................................................................21 Captivity-as-Commodity....................................................................................26 Captivity-as-Context..........................................................................................28 Captivity-as-Conspiracy....................................................................................30 Captivity-as-Contrast.........................................................................................32 2 1900-1919....................................................................................................................35 Fiction.........................................................................................................................39 Frederic Remington...........................................................................................39 Frederic Remingtons John Ermine of the Yellowstone 1902..........................44 Stewart Edward Whites The Girl Who Got Rattled, 1904............................48 James Willard Schultz........................................................................................50 Honor Willsie Morrows The Heart of the Desert 1912.................................56 Zane Grey...........................................................................................................59 Movies.........................................................................................................................66 Comics........................................................................................................................72 Childrens Literature...................................................................................................73 Current Context..................................................................................................73 Ernest Thompson Setons Two Little Savages 1903........................................73 Native American Literature........................................................................................74 Charles A. Eastman and Elaine Goodale Eastman............................................74 Turtles War Party Traditions............................................................................76 Geronimo...........................................................................................................77 Current Context..................................................................................................78 vi

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3 THE TWENTIES.........................................................................................................80 Fiction.........................................................................................................................81 Stewart Edward White's Daniel Boone: Wilderness Scout 1921..........................81 Hamlin Garlands The Book of the Indian 1923...................................................82 Harold Bell Wrights The Mine with the Iron Door ,1923.....................................88 Zane Grey's The Vanishing American 1925.......................................................91 Max Brand (Frederick Faust).................................................................................95 Max Brands Thunder Moon series, 19271928.................................................100 Edgar Rice Burrough's The War Chief 1927.....................................................105 Oliver La Farge's Laughing Boy 1929................................................................113 Movies.......................................................................................................................114 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................119 Native American Literature......................................................................................120 Zitkala-Sas American Indian Stories 1921........................................................120 Hum-ishu-mas Cogewa 1927............................................................................122 Resourceful Captives in Captivity Narrative Traditions......................................124 4 THE THIRTIES.........................................................................................................126 Fiction.......................................................................................................................127 Edgar Rice Burroughs Apache Devil 1933........................................................127 Max Brands Red Hawk Series, 1934-35...........................................................128 Zane Greys The Lost Wagon Train 1932..........................................................132 Paul Wellmans Broncho Apache 1936............................................................134 Movies.......................................................................................................................138 Current Context....................................................................................................138 Whoopee !, 1930...................................................................................................138 Serials........................................................................................................................140 The Lightning Warrior 1931...............................................................................141 Custer's Last Stand 1936.....................................................................................142 Treachery Rides the Range 1936........................................................................144 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................148 Stewart Edward Whites The Long Rifle 1930...................................................148 Holling C. Hollings The Book of Indians ,1935..................................................150 The Three Stooges Back to the Woods 1937.....................................................153 Comics......................................................................................................................154 Native American Literature......................................................................................155 5 THE FORTIES...........................................................................................................158 Fiction.......................................................................................................................160 Mary Bethell Alfriends Juan Ortiz: Gentleman of Seville 1940.......................161 Walter D. Edmonds Drums Along the Mohawk 1940......................................163 L.L. Foreman's The Renegade 1942...................................................................165 vii

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Movies.......................................................................................................................167 Northwest Passage 1940.....................................................................................167 Northwest Mounted Police 1940.........................................................................168 Ride 'Em Cowboy 1942.....................................................................................169 Valley of the Sun 1942........................................................................................171 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................173 Lois Lenskis Indian Captive 1942.....................................................................173 Current Context....................................................................................................176 After the War............................................................................................................178 A Horse Fly Fleas ,1948.......................................................................................182 The Paleface ,1948................................................................................................183 Elliott Arnolds Blood Brother 1947 and Broken Arrow 1950, 1956-1960........184 Comics......................................................................................................................189 Current Context....................................................................................................189 Firehair 1945-1952..............................................................................................191 Television..................................................................................................................193 6 THE FIFTIES.............................................................................................................194 Fiction.......................................................................................................................195 Dorothy Johnson..................................................................................................195 Conrad Richters Light In the Forest 1953.........................................................204 Will Henry/Clay Fisher........................................................................................208 Alan LeMays The Searchers 1953 and 1956.....................................................212 The Unforgiven 1957 and 1960..........................................................................213 Will Cook.............................................................................................................216 Frederick Manfreds Conquering Horse 1959...................................................219 Movies.......................................................................................................................220 Current Context....................................................................................................220 Trooper Hook 1957.............................................................................................226 Television..................................................................................................................228 Current Context....................................................................................................228 Gunsmoke 1952-1990.........................................................................................229 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................241 Current Context....................................................................................................241 Dee Dunsings War Chant 1954.........................................................................248 Elizabeth George Speares. Calico Captive 1957..............................................249 Comics......................................................................................................................253 Current Context....................................................................................................253 Straight Arrow ,1950-1956...................................................................................255 7 THE SIXTIES............................................................................................................263 Fiction.......................................................................................................................265 Elmer Keltons Texas Rifles 1960......................................................................267 Elmore Leonards Hombre 1961 and 1967.........................................................270 Thomas Bergers Little Big Man 1964 and 1970...............................................275 viii

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T. V. Olsens The Stalking Moon 1965, 1969....................................................280 Benjamin Cappss A Woman of the People 1966...............................................282 T. V. Olsens Arrow in the Sun 1969 and Soldier Blue 1970..............................285 Movies.......................................................................................................................288 Duel at Diablo 1966............................................................................................289 Hallelujah Trail 1965..........................................................................................290 Television..................................................................................................................292 Current Context....................................................................................................292 The High Chaparral 1967-1971..........................................................................296 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................300 Current Context....................................................................................................300 Robert Cruses Friends of the Wolf 1961...........................................................301 Betty Bakers Walk the Worlds Rim 1965........................................................302 Comics......................................................................................................................302 Current Context....................................................................................................302 Tom K. Ryans Tumbleweeds 1965-present.......................................................303 8 THE SEVENTIES.....................................................................................................306 Fiction.......................................................................................................................307 Gayle Rogers The Second Kiss 1972................................................................307 Forrest Carters Gone to Texas 1973 and 1976..................................................309 Paul Gallicos Miracle in the Wilderness 1976...................................................311 Frederick Manfreds The Manly-Hearted Woman 1975....................................313 Clay Fishers Black Apache 1976......................................................................314 Ruth Beebe Hills Hanta Yo 1979......................................................................316 Movies.......................................................................................................................319 Television..................................................................................................................321 Little House on the Prairie 1974-1983................................................................322 How the West Was Won 1976-1979...................................................................324 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................327 Scott O'Dell..........................................................................................................328 William O. Steeles The Wilderness Tattoo: A Narrative of Juan Ortiz 1972...330 Comics......................................................................................................................331 Current Context....................................................................................................331 Jack Jacksons Comanche Moon 1979...............................................................333 Native American Literature......................................................................................337 Leslie Marmon Silkos Ceremony 1977.............................................................337 Storyteller 1981...................................................................................................339 9 THE EIGHTIES.........................................................................................................341 Fiction.......................................................................................................................342 Historical Romance Novels..................................................................................342 Fern Michaels Wild Honey 1982......................................................................349 Janelle Taylors Gray Eagle Series, 1981-1985...................................................351 Western Historical Novels...................................................................................354 ix

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Brian Moores Black Robe ,1985 and 1991..........................................................357 Richard Wheelers Skye Series, 1987-1994........................................................358 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................359 Comics......................................................................................................................362 Native American Literature......................................................................................364 Current Context....................................................................................................364 James Welchs Fools Crow 1986......................................................................366 10 THE NINETIES.........................................................................................................373 Fiction.......................................................................................................................374 Historical Romance Novels..................................................................................374 Nan Ryans Written in the Stars 1992................................................................374 Karen A. Bales Apaches Desire 1993.............................................................376 Western Historical Novels...................................................................................378 Kate Horsley's Crazy Woman 1992....................................................................379 Don Coldsmiths The Spanish Bit Series, 1980-Present....................................380 David Thompsons Wilderness Series, 1990-Present..........................................382 Judd Coles Cheyenne Series, 1992-1998............................................................383 Clifton Wislers The Medicine Trail Series, 1991-1995......................................385 Television..................................................................................................................388 Childrens Literature.................................................................................................389 Michael Dorris Morning Girl and Jane Yolens Encounter 1992......................389 Current Context....................................................................................................391 Comics......................................................................................................................392 Native American Literature......................................................................................393 11 CONCLUSION..........................................................................................................395 LIST OF REFERENCES.................................................................................................398 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH...........................................................................................441 x

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ABSTRACT OF DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY REVISING CAPTIVITY NARRATIVES By WILLIAM CLAY KINCHEN SMITH December 2002 Chair: Donald Ault Department: English Revising Captivity Narratives demonstrates the power and potential for revisionist studies to redefine canonical structures. In doing so, it directly confronts those critical and theoretical models determining much of current captivity narrative studies. This study thereby joins with a handful of dedicated revisionist works within the field of captivity narratives studies (e.g. by critics like Christopher Castiglia, Kathryn Zabelle Derounian-Stodola, James Arthur Levernier, and Rafia Zafar) as well as those revisionist critics outside the field (e.g. Maria Alonso, Lata Mani, Meaghan Morris, and Gayatri Spivak). To do so, the study performs an extensive archaeology of the Twentieth Centurys production of captivity narrativesparticularly those which have been formally and formerly denied by canonical captivity narrative criticism. It reveals how many of these works emphasize the indeterminacies of ethnicity, gender, and race as part of a larger revisionist agenda used to counter the reductive effects of conventional definitions perpetuating and perpetuated by these categories (e.g. Native peoples are savages). This xi

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study also reveals the enormity of the material denied by canonical critics. In doing so, it seeks to promote continued reexamination of canonical structures in captivity narrative criticism as well as encourage the larger climate of awareness to prevent colonialism and racism from continuing in the academy. This study follows the basic pattern of surveying a decades production of material in each chapter under generic headings. I also emphasize particular individuals and their works when appropriate. This structure allows these works to speak for themselves, thereby foiling the critical drive toward binarism and instead initiating a dialogue about constructions within the canon. By doing so, I have remained true to the moral dimensions of those critics mentioned above and hopefully maintained the integrity of the works presented. xii

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CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION One way to counter these stereotypes, we found, was to stress the vastness of the material and to refer to as many of the thousands of texts as we could. Too many commentators still focus on a relatively small core of familiar--canonized narratives, so in this study we have tried to bring unfamiliar texts to light but still not neglect some of the better know accounts like those of Mary Rowlandson and John Williams. --Kathryn Zabelle Derounian-Stodola and James Arther Levernier, The Indian Captivity Narrative, 1550-1900 Contemporary criticism continues to assert the "unity" and "conformity" of both captivity narratives and their subjects, shaping a large body of literature into predictable patterns that sustain the colonizing and paternalistic stereotypes endorsed by earlier editors. --Christopher Castiglia, Bound and Determined it is between different things that one can think difference. But this difference may be understood in two ways: as another difference or as access to nondifference. --Jacques Derrida, The Essay on the Origin of Languages For the long haul emancipatory social intervention is not primarily a question of redressing victimage by the assertion of (classor genderor ethnocultural) identity. It is a question of developing vigilance for systematic appropriations of the unacknowledged social production of a differential that is one basis of exchange into the networks of the cultural politics of classor gender-identification. In the field of ethnocultural politics, the postcolonial teacher can help to develop this vigilance rather than continue pathetically to dramatize victimage or assert a spurious identity. She says no to the moral luck of the culture of imperialism while recognizing that she must inhabit it, indeed invest it, to criticize it. --Gaytari Spivak, Outside in the Teaching Machine 1

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2 What do Daffy Duck and Derrida have to do with captivity? The same thing that Meaghan Morris and Minnie Mouse do. Or Leslie Marmon Silko and Jack Jackson. I could continue these pairings, but I wont because you get the point. If you dont, or if you think this is the start of a bad joke, then I hope that you will realize my point by reading this dissertation. You see, what I am proposing is no joke, but a serious inquiry into the necessary deconstruction of a canon--the revision of captivity narrative studies through the inclusion of formally and formerly erased texts. As do other calls for canonical revision, mine takes as its major premise the need to end the determinism and exclusivity exercised by that canon. It also argues that this end results only by beginning a sustained critical dialogue which (re)examines silenced texts and the theoretical apparatus that has silenced them. In doing so, such revisionists hope to initiate new critical and theoretical structures that operate from principles of inclusivity and a continuous awareness of the institutionalization of determinismas a preventative to future institutionalized exclusivity. Such principles derive from initial forays by critics like Gayatri Spivak and Jane Tompkins, but have gained immeasurable volume and support from an ever-growing body of critics as far-ranging as Lata Mani, Meaghan Morris, and Maria Alonso. This study allies itself with these principles and people. In addition to these critical charges, this study derives its principles and purpose from the very texts it examines. All of them actively seek to engage and correct the reductive rhetoric of conventional images of Native identity and captivitythat representational matrix that defines and confines Native peoples as savages and captivity by such peoples as necessarily an act of violence. Captivity then becomes an expression of that identityrevealing the essential savagery of the captors and providing

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3 justification of nationalist policies of extermination and diasporas. In doing so, these conventional images perpetuate and are in turn perpetuated by absolutist constructions of identity (usually in terms of race and ethnicity) that privilege racist ideologieswhich revisionists also target for correction. To counter such reductive rhetoric, revisionists emphasize the determinacies of such colonizing rhetoric: by constantly and consistently underscoring the relativities of identity and captivity as defined negatively by patriarchal, nationalist ideologies which rely on stereotypical images of Native American peoples and captivity by such peoples. In this way, these revisionist agendas work in tandem, explicitly and implicitly, to effect changes in general (mis)perceptions propagated by such reductive rhetorics. Regardless of their individual styles, these revisionists seek to unsettle what appear as absolutes so that further dialogue and rearticulation can result between groups of people polarized by reductive rhetoric. Most often, works invoking such recontextualization use captivity and its narrative as the means whereby captives (and audiences) realize the validity of humanity of captors (and their cultures) and the misrepresentation of identity by conventional constructions. To effect such changes, revisionists have used a variety of forms and every type of media. Herein lies a partial explanation of critical oversight of this material and its ideologies. The sheer volume of material is overwhelming, as the size of this study illustrates and I can personally attest. Moreover, access to certain forms and particular articulations proves difficult: the availability and (sometimes) even existence of these representations depend upon the vagaries of broadcasters and collectors. Sometimes that access proves impossible or only referential. For example, I wish I could have seen the

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4 1939 movie Geronimo the 1955 version of The Vanishing American, or the 1960s television serial The Iron Horse; but they and many other examples remained inaccessible during my research. However, a huge number of texts were accessible and thereby provide the basis for this study Moreover, I hope that the present collection provides a starting point for future dialogue and further exploration of this material and topic. In this respect, I also mean this study to function as a repository for this material--to provide a record and a resource for future investigators who might encounter problems of access. I chose to retain as much of the relevant detail from individual works as prudent so that others may more freely judge the impact of this material and the void caused by its denial. Finally, I organized the material under basic chronological order, with generic and media headings, so that readers could easily chart their own courses through the texts. These aspects, then, determine much of the shape and size of the present study. Another major factor instituting this materials relative and actual anonymity within the field of captivity narrative studies is the determination exercised by the fields original formulation. As we shall in detail below, when Philip Carleton and Roy Harvey Pearce formalize the field of captivity narrative studies a half-century ago, they literally and figuratively determine much of the field--what would and could be considered when discussing captivity narratives. The consequence of their formulation is a canonical body of works which dismisses or denies most of the works I consider in this study, A final factor promoting this materials neglect lies in the inherent prejudices against certain materials outside of their perceived and imposed genres. We have made great strides in the last three decades to include a variety of works and media within the

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5 generalized category popular culture studies. However, certain prejudices still exist even within fields like cultural studies and American studies despite the elaborate arguments otherwise made so persuasively by critics like Chandra Mukerji and Michael Schudson (1991). To borrow Gerald Graffs term, educational fundamentalism is still more the norm than the exception (A48). As I indicated, some people reading this dissertation will object to its transgression of those boundaries (mixing comics, romance novels, childrens literature, movies, and Native American literature). Some of the staunchest critics working with canonical captivity narratives may even brand this work a heresy. But we must set aside any such prejudices if we are to examine meaningfully what this material has to say both about captivity narratives in the Twentieth Century and about the determination of the field of captivity narrative study by an exclusive canon. We cannot disparage individual examples of captivity and its narrative because of certain aesthetic criteria, investing a certain group with the moral luck of authentic marginality against which Spivak cautions us pointedly (60, 57) To do so would perpetuate the very essence of the canonical force I am trying to redefine. Instead, we must consider everything that uses captivity to revise expectations predicated upon convention: comics (like Firehair, 1945-1952), cartoons (like Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas, 1938),childrens literature (like When the Great Canoes Came, 1993), historical romance (like Madeline Bakers Lakota Renegade, 1995), Band even C-grade Westerns (like The Great Sioux Massacre, 1965).1 All are equally valid in this study because all of 1 In this way, I resemble Leslie A. Fiedlers inclusive definition of any media production with Indians in it as constituting a Western, but I do limit my categories to those productions directly referencing (usually to refute them) conventional categories of red captors and white captives. Instead, I include virtually everything that uses captivity to revise conventional images of captivity and Native identity. This

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6 them seek to revise conventional and stereotypical representations of captivity and Native peoples. Such inclusivisty necessarily counters the exclusivity inherent in the current canonical structures. Finally, the very fact that authors, animators, and other artists have continued to rearticulate captivity and Native identity as part of revisionary agendas over the past century argues for their inclusion in critical considerations of captivity narratives studies. The existence of this enormous body of works indicates the pervasiveness of this ideology and its vitality. Given the economic constraints and determinations of the capitalist markets in which these works appear, this vitality and variety argue strongly that revisionist representations of captivity sell--in every sense of the term. Moreover, the continued audience receptivity to such revisionist arguments cannot simply be explained by the market-model that critics use to dismiss diversity as a direct result of consumerisms insatiable demands (e.g. Alf H. Wale). Instead, we need to recognize the existence of a continuous body of works formerly and formally relegated to the shadows of critical perception--a body which has maintained its vitality with audiences despite critical efforts to declare it extinct or insignificant. Origins and Effects of the Canon All of these inclinations [to equate what is new with what are usually called 'revelations' . and a readiness to denounce or indict] hinder an understanding of the invisible structures and mechanisms. .that influence the actions and thoughts of individuals--an understanding that is likely to lead to sympathetic indulgence rather than to indignant condemnation. --Pierre Bourdieu On Television last criteria allows me to consider every media, including tabloids. Unfortunately, I could not include the Weekly World News headline Satans Corpse (5 Dec. 1995) because it ultimately reifies conventional definitions by arguing that Satans human form was tortured to death by his Lakota captors.

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7 Canonical formation of captivity narrative studies begins with the fields original voices, Philip D. Carleton and Roy Harvey Pearce. Their voices create the structures that have determined much of captivity studies for the past half century. Predictably, we see how these original pronouncements echo throughout the immediate areas (determining the scope of possible captivity studies) and in the more general area (determining genealogies in American literary studies for years). Consider for a moment how many captivity narrative studies and anthologies of American literature privilege Mary Rowlandsons narrative, but remain silent on the influence of Juan Ortiz, and you will see what I mean. The corollary to my projects potential effect on this canon is the revision of American Studies produced by critics like Jane Tompkins and Walter Benn Michaels. Carleton and Pearce initiate a long-standing determinacy in the Forties when they formalize captivity narrative studies. In The Indian Captivity Narrative (1943), Carleton argues that the uniformity and plain style of the early narratives distinguishes them from the sensationalized excess of later ones. He also argues that captivity narratives have maintained a fully developed formula that has persisted since the very first settlement of the country to the twentieth century (176). Such dates attest to his belief that captivity narratives were only valid when based directly on actual captivity experiences. Like Carleton, Pearce emphasizes hegemony and historicity in his formulation, The Significance of the Captivity Narrative (1947). There, Pearce argues for a historically unified development of captivity narratives which corresponds to a nationalistic image of U.S. history. At first, he recognizes the polymorphous nature of captivity narratives, but by the beginning of his second paragraph he defines a

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8 hierarchical structure for captivity narratives which legitimizes itself through the exclusion of precisely those narratives that are polymorphous. His language reveals his valuation of this hierarchy. For Pearce, "the first, and greatest" narratives were "simple, direct religious documents" (2-3), then, as the centuries and imperialism progressed in the U.S., they devolve into "an occasion for an exercise in blood and thunder and sensibility" (12), most often supporting that nationalism or reveling in their own sensationalism. This shift from an original, factual narrative, to a fictional form is what Pearce calls "the stylization of the captivity narrative" (4). In his conclusion, he defines three stages through which the captivity narrative evolves: "As religious confessional, as propaganda, and as pulp thriller" (20). Throughout his formulation, he casts captivity narratives as relative to an originary authenticity which time and tone have diluted. We can see Pearce's formulation here as the first major critical echo and endorsement of the formulation first proposed by Carleton, whose work he acknowledges in his first paragraph. This characterization continues to predominate over the next half century as the primary model for captivity narrative studies. Predictably, such a paradigm excludes captivity narratives by nonwhites and limits canonicity to those narratives which support this model. Narratives attain their relative authenticity only through their correspondence to this model. Thus, narratives like those of John Tanner and Mary Jemison become anomalies proving the rule, rather than indicative of a larger body of works silenced by this model promoted by critics whose authority is virtually absolute. The long-term determination of Carleton and Pearces pronouncements manifests itself in the majority of critical work on captivity narratives for the remainder of the

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9 Twentieth Century. For example, Hennig Cohen and James Leverniers The Indians and Their Captives (1977) argues that in the Twentieth Century, the captivity theme became a structure and metaphor for complex, pretentious art forms (xiv). Elsewhere, they write: By the end of the late nineteenth century the genre had lost most of its historical and autobiographical integrity. It ultimately blended with the penny-dreadfuls of Americans Victorian-age fiction (3). Such finality illustrates how influential Carleton and Pearce have been for captivity narrative studies. A major example of their determination occurs in the extensive work of Richard Slotkin, particularly in his Regeneration Through Violence (1972) and Gunfighter Nation (1993). In Slotkin's scenario, the mythology of regeneration through violence evolves through and by two forms of captivity narrative: one which emphasizes the captive's passive acceptance of the captivity by a feminized subject (a la Mary Rowlandson) and the other which emphasizes the active rescue of a feminized captive by a patriarchal frontiersman (ala Daniel Boone) masculinized either by prior experience (so he knows Indians better than others, even themselves) or by the rescue itself. Further, the latter form incorporates the former into "a single unified Myth of the Frontier in which the triumph of civilization over savagery is symbolized by the hunter/warrior's rescue of the White woman held captive by savages" (Gunfighter Nation 15). This myth, when used as part of a nationalist rhetoric, promotes racialist bigotry and violence that then traps its audiences and authors into a circular logic demanding more violence to support it. This logic is so exclusive and authoritative, Slotkin argues, that alternatives are virtually impossible (461-62). His own investigations seem to bear this out, as he only cites the existence of a handful of alternatives, as the following summary indicates:

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10 Between 1956 and 1964 the "Cult of the Indian" lost ground to a recrudescence of more traditional "savage war" renditions of White/Indian conflicts. Although sympathetic portrayals of the Indian continued to appear, they were outweighed in number, popularity, and scale by movies that emphasized Indian savagery. Among the most vivid of these movies were two sensational versions of the "captivity myth": Huston's The Unforgiven (1960) and Ford's Two Rode Together (1961). A Thunder of Drums (1961) and A Distant Trumpet (1964) offered more or less "orthodox" cavalry/Indian conflicts; Budd Boetticher's Comanche Station (1960) and Sam Peckinpah's Deadly Companions (1961) use Indian savagery as the background of a formulaic journey or revenge plot. John Wayne's "Mexican Western," The Comancheros (1961; a virtual remake, Rio Conchos, appeared in 1964), brings the Cold War subtext of these movies to full articulation. Even the "civil rights" Westerns [e.g. Duel at Diablo] produced in the 1960s address the problem of anti-Black racism by contrasting good and heroic African-Americans with a "genuinely" savage race-enemy, the Apache. (Gunfighter Nation 472-73) He further argues that Westerns experience a last revisionary gasp in 1970 with the release of movies Little Big Man, Soldier Blue, and A Man Called Horse (1970), all of which articulate liberal, anti-war ideologiesusing captivity and identity as vehicles for countering progressive agendas. These claims provide examples of his erasure of the revisionism occurring in most of these movies and for the five decades prior to these movies appearance in this and other media. For Slotkin, this two decade period (1950-1970) forms the most intense and definitive in the life and death of the Westerns. Furthermore, Slotkin's model relies too heavily on a binary opposition between a liberal and conservative perspective. Such reductive strategies are precisely what the majority of alternatives target with their uses of captivity, seeking instead multifaceted perspectives from which to view the complexities of captivity and identity. The sheer weight of this "alternative" material overwhelms any model which defines it as miniscule or irrelevant. What we shall see in the coming pages is a vital and vibrant history of "alternative" Westerns in a rich variety of media and genres (not just a handful of movies), which use captivity as part of a rhetorical strategy to counter captivity-as-conflict and reductive representations of Native peoples.

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11 Before we proceed, I need to address further the binarism that requires me both to place "alternative" in quotes and even use the term itself. As I have indicated, both by my quote marks and my argument, "alternative" reifies the very terms it should jeopardize. Placing the word in quotes does not sufficiently define it as a false category, its designation emphasizing its inapplicability; instead, it constantly keeps the terms from Slotkin's model alive through artificial means. Moreover, placing the word in quotes does not sufficiently designate it as a grapheme, to use Derrida's term, but instead continues to echo Slotkin's model. If we are to move beyond such language, and the attendant ideological reduction of the bodies of works to which it refers, we must do what critics like Spivak and Morris have argued: allow multiple voices to speak simultaneously. The same charge applies to my use of conventional. However, I retain its use throughout the study as a short-hand way of referencing the context of negative imagery of captivity and Native peoples. Also, convention emphasizes the hegemony of those texts in contrast to the diversity of discourses in alternative texts. To paraphrase Mani, I am not in any way conceding the power of erasure to such colonial discourse by emphasizing it, but neither am I capitulating with it by not emphasizing it. The very idea of an alternative body of such magnitude itself denies that erasure and deserves more than a secondary status. To emphasize its performative function I use the term revisionist. With reference to Native American peoples, I follow a similar strategy and adopt Gerald Vizenors injunctions about defining Native identity in Fugitive Poses by my use of the term Native. Vizenors quote here defines my position explicitly, informing my avoidance of binaries:

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12 The indian is a mundane romance, the advertisement of the other in the narratives. Natives are elusive, the traces of presence are unnameable in literature; the origins are deferred, and the acts of reading native stories are the diffrance a postindian fragmentary insight. The tricky native, not the racialist simulation of the indian is an invitation to a pleasurable misreading. (35) Similarly I dispense with the designation Indian with reference to captivity and its narratives, particularly since much of this study focuses on the rearticulation of captivity as exclusively a violent act committed by red captors on white victims and its narrative as a political tool which perpetuates and is perpetuated by such reductive rhetoric. Structurally I repeat this rearticulation by placing examinations of works by Native authors at the end of each chapter--a literal and figurative ciphering that rearticulates the canonical notion of captivity and its narratives only as products of indian violence. Here I also echo Derounian-Stodolas insightful distinctions about the term captivity narratives in her Womens Indian Captivity Narratives (xi-xii, 1998), and in so doing further demonstrate my continuity with existent critics calling for the revision of captivity narrative studies. By emphasizing the play of differences, this study counters prior determinative models that have enacted, and by so doing, have perpetuated racialist attitudes against Native peoples as normative. Finally, this argument does not exempt non-Native peoples from responsibility for past or current programs or practices that injure Native peoples. Instead, it provides further means for dialogue about those issues, specifically about how racism reduces peoples and practices to conventional expressions of violence. It also specifically targets how academia can perpetuate racism and thereby creating new generations of people inclined toward colonial perspectives, or conversely, by recognizing that production, cease it and begin encouraging significant inquiry into the mechanisms driving racism.

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13 In this last point, I join other revisionists working on captivity narratives who call for revision to what they see as a dominant and dominating model. Critical Sources However the public/popular distinction for me does not entail an opposition between the official and the vernacular, or the academy and the street; public (institutional/strategic) and popular (practical/tactical) are asymmetrical categories. I am interested in the varying forms and degrees of involvement between public culture and popular practices in my period of study, and I take genres, narratives, and rhetorical practices to be material and historically persistent, as well as productive modes of such involvement. --Meaghan Morris, Too Soon, Too Late As I stated above, much of my studys impulse derives from both critically and creatively revisionist works. For the moment, I will focus on those critical revisionists; the body of my study will focus on those creative revisionists, whose work extends far beyond the decades of critical revision. I proudly attach my study to the handful of dedicated critics of captivity narratives who have raised their own voices to call into question the determinacy of prior models. Those of you familiar with Kathryn Zabell Derounian-Stodola and James Arthur Leverniers work (1993), for example, will see how my work expands their claims. But readers will soon realize how and where my work departs from theirs. In large part, our approaches differ in the range of our investigations, but we maintain similar goals of revision through inclusion. These critics have maintained the need for canonical revision for almost three decades now. This revisionist impulse arises from a variety of works, like Norman J. Heards The Black Frontiersman (1969) and Vaughan and Clarks Puritans Among the Indians (1981). Heards book celebrates a range of African American captives (e.g. Estevancio and Louis Pacheco) and thereby actively engages several issues of captivity as

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14 an exclusive construct, while Vaughan and Clark explicitly state that the original captivity narratives were told by Native peoples about European colonials capturing their people and that the current construct of captivity narratives derives from the exclusive monopoly on publication exercised by European Americans (2). Another early revisionist example occurs when Annette Kolodny (1981) extends the boundaries of the canon by questioning its determination of female captives and their narratives in her examination of the Panther Narrative. From these early claims, revisionist inquiry expands exponentially when critics like Christopher Castiglia (1996) and Kate McCafferty, John Saillant, and Rafia Zafar rearticulate the field of inquiry to include romance novels and slave narratives.2 Gary Ebersole (1995) concludes his argument for a religious recontextualization of captivity narratives studies with an examination of South American and contemporary North American popular narratives. More recently, critics like Paul Baepler continue this momentum with his work on American Barbary captivity narratives (1999). Some of the most significant consequences of such an approach are revisionist studies that emphasize the human ambiguities in an otherwise determined area. For example, Colin G. Calloway designs his anthology North Country Captives: Selected Narratives of Indian Captivity From Vermont and New Hampshire (1992) to illustrate that the north country was not a racial battle line, but a porous zone of interaction 2 We will return in more detail to McCafferty and Castiglia during the study. Saillant argues that Leonard Haynes text Mystery Dev eloped (1820) merged the language of the captivity narrative with the language of slavery and emancipation as part of a larger strategy to vindicate the Boorn brothers (123). Zafar argues that because they shared non-white status with their captors, African Americans modified their captivity narratives to engage the determinacies in Puritan narrativeswhat Carleton calls that simple indigenous American prose form (176). Zafar also notes that by the 1800s, African Americans shifted from telling tales of Christian trial and redemption at the hands of heathen Indians to relating narratives of oppression under the dominion of Christian whites (19).

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15 where colonists and Indians lived alongside each other as often as they fought, where cautious coexistence was more usual than open conflict (viii). These regional narratives eschew the more common Puritan reliance on Satanic characterizations for Native captors; instead they more often portray Indian captors as human individuals rather than agents of the Devil (viii). These narratives, Calloway continues, reveal that the reality of Indian-white interaction, even in captivity, was far more complex than Puritan narratives would have it. Correspondingly, his study reveals the limitations imposed on critical inquiry by too narrowly focusing on Puritan origins in captivity narrative studies (a striking parallel to the power of revisionists who challenged the construction and consequence of Matthiessens American Renaissance). We can gauge the growing momentum of this movement toward revisionism by noting the changes in Richard Van Der Beets position relative to the canon. In the reissue of his Held Captive by Indians (1994), Van Der Beets argues that the critical field of captivity narrative studies has burgeoned since his book's original publication (1972). He also argues that subsequent anthologies fail to accurately represent the range of captivity experiences recorded, but instead reinforce the concepts advanced by Pearce and similar critics by restricting the field of study to a small canon (xv).3 Other critics take this exclusivity as the impetus for their revisionary studies. We find one of the most ambitious models in Kathryn Zabell Derounian-Stodola and James 3 As this survey indicates, these critics above are significantly questioning and rearticulating the field of captivity narratives, thereby producing a healthy debate as to the identity of the field. However not all critics pursue their stated agendas, For example, In the introduction to the 1992 republication of Mary Jemisons captivity narrative, June Namias dates captivity narratives from the late seventeenth to the early twentieth centuries (10)--the recurrent effects of Carleton and Pearce. Elsewhere, Namias attempts to redefine captivity as a practice transcending cultural boundaries by arguing that Native Americans, Europeans, and Africans had participated in traditional captivity practices long before the appearance of the Anglo-centric genre of captivity narratives (8-9), but she does not explore her claim in depth. Such ambivalence indicates the need for expanded canons, but also a certain anxiety over their expansion.

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16 Arther Levernier's The Indian Captivity Narrative, 1550-1900 (1993).4 There, Derounian-Stodola and Levernier demonstrate the need for critics of captivity narratives to expand the genre's horizons historically and culturally, as well as engage the racist nature of many narratives and the institutionalized agencies promoting that exclusion, as revealed in the epigraph above. As part of this agenda, they include narratives written before Rowlandson's (e.g Ortiz and Nuez de Pineda y Bascunn) and from sources other than Anglo-American narratives (e.g. Mexican-American and African-American). In doing so they revitalize a restricted field by encouraging a dialogue about the form and function of captivity narratives and the critical assumptions underlying the narratives considered in the field. Finally, perhaps the most succinct insight into the current state of captivity narrative studies comes from Christopher Castiglia (1996) who argues that "Contemporary criticism continues to assert the 'unity' and 'conformity' of both captivity narratives and their subjects, shaping a large body of literature into predictable patterns that sustain the colonizing and paternalistic stereotypes endorsed by earlier editors" (21). Three of the most influential of these "earlier editors" are two of the field's initial voices, Philip D. Carleton and Roy Harvey Pearce, and their direct descendent, Richard Slotkin. To understand the present problems of critical inquiry into captivity narratives, we need to examine how these originary figures have defined the field of critical inquiry. 4 In contrast, Gordon Sayre performs but does not identify the need for inclusion other than to recontextualize Smith and Rowlandsons narratives: Although the captivity narrative genre in American literature has commonly identified Rowlandson as its founder, this collection includes her text, Smiths, and a range of others that reach back to the sixteenth century and outward toward other types of captivity. When examined in this larger context, a few common features emerge, connecting the genres two Anglo-American originators with their successors. (3)

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17 Methodology But if theory as tool kit is not to degenerate into theory as grab bag, if theory is to address the present in any meaningful way, what is necessary is a rigorous politics of translation in the widest sense of the term: transcoding that is scrupulously alert to specificities, avoiding the triple pitfalls of conflation, erasure, and elision. --Lata Mani, Cultural Theory, Colonial Texts By structuring my study as I do, I avoid the risk of setting up a problematic chain of equivalences between very real differences, and thereby enacting the triple pitfalls of conflation, erasure, and elision, to borrow from Mani (393-5). In this way, I enable these textual bodies to speak for themselves, provide their own contexts, and exist independently of restrictive models--trying to achieve what Alonso, Mani, Morris, Spivak, and others have advocated as the break with the past that will allow something new and real to emerge, instead of simplistically repeating the past.5 My methodology also engages the interpretivist/structuralist debates raging in cultural studies today by seeking to balance these two poles (Mukerji 22). Finally, I do not propose this alternative history as a binary solution to a monologic erasure. Such a move would perpetuate the illusion of a space outside of power relations in which the resilience and creativity of the human spirit [can exist] in its refusal to be dominated (Abu-Loghud, 1990). Instead, I try to (re)present the existence of resistance and its erasure to inform the determinacy of the canonical process inherent in captivity narrative studies in the U.S.precisely the sorts of historicization that critics like Alonso and Mani argue are essentially to distinguish critical projects. 5 Alonso's argues that only by historicizing the deployment of a dominant rhetoric can we deny its apparently hegemonic control. In Too Soon, Too Late (1998), Meaghan Morris perceptively argues for the limitations of current models and the need to redefine them (224), as revealed in her epigraph in this chapter. I also follow a similar path derived from Pierre Bourdieus exploration of journalism by creating this study as "an exchange within a larger debate" (11), which in part will be generated by this exchange.

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18 My study focuses on those works which specifically seek to revise captivity narrative conventions and their attendant ideologies about Native peoples. By captivity narratives I mean what Derounian-Stodola argues so succinctly in the introduction to her Womens Captivity Narratives (xi, 1998). If I considered all works invoking captivity outside of this focus, I would have to consider works as far ranging as Nevil Shutes romantic melodrama An Old Captivity (1940), Kate Webbs reorientation of the Cambodian offensive through her North and South Vietnamese captors treatment of their captives in Three-Week Captivity (1971), and Renegades (1989) playful relationship with captivity when it has Hank Storm (Lou Diamond Phillips) capture Buster McHenry (Kiefer Sutherland) as part of his strategy to regain the stolen tribal artifact and regenerate McHenry as the frontiersman who knows Indians (my nod to Slotkin). Instead, I focus on those works which revise conventional representations of Native peoples and captivity by such peoples. Despite the size of this body of works, most of these works use a fairly common set of rhetorical modes to argue for revision of conventional representations of captivity and Native peoples. With this in mind, I have defined and illustrated those modes below to familiarize readers with the major rhetorical modes that they will encounter with the individual texts in the subsequent chapters. In doing so I have also retained Manis warning about the triple pitfalls of conflation, erasure, and elision by then allowing the remainder of the works considered to retain their own voices within a chronological ordering. This combination also allows readers to see how continuous and constant revisionist production has been for the past century--itself proof against the determinism of canonical formulations

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19 Modes of Representation Captivity-as-Complexity It had never been rumored that Gray Eagle took white female captives before. I know. Every day I have come to see more and more how they view ex-captives. I think perhaps the womens treatment of me is the worse, for they should understand what it would be like to change places with me. They should know that a woman cannot refuse the strength of a man. Why do they believe that they would have had the strength and courage, even the honor, to resist it all, at any cost to their sanity and lives? Do they fear facing the knowledge of what they might do if they were placed in that same situation? You are a constant reminder of their possible captivity, Powchutu assured her, of what could just as easily happen to them. They rebel against the truth that they would not resist their captors. They have seen the results of torture. They know inside that they would not rebel against any order. Your condition when you arrived here told them that you had resisted, and yet lived. Their own cowardice and envy blind them to understanding and sympathy. --Janelle Taylor, Savage Ecstasy Predictably, of all the rhetorical modes used by revisionists, captivity-as-complexity proves the most difficult to summarize but is also the most essential element in all revisionist representations. It obviously seeks to confront captivity-as-conflict through its intricacy and ambiguity--confronting head on captivity narratives which reduce captivity to an act of violence committed by savages blinded by their own passion and excess. Moreover, it directly counters the reductive rhetoric and simplistic binarisms characteristic of negative stereotypes and forms defining Native American identity and captivity. As we shall see, examples abound, but here works like Mary Louise Cliffords When the Great Canoes Came (1993) illustrate this point. There, Clifford represents the early history of Virginia tribes after Pocahontas, revealing the savagery of whites inflicted upon Native peoples, one example of which is the brutal torture of Pamunkey

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20 captives by Bacons troops (28-30). Moreover, Clifford includes an extended narrative of Opechancanoughs captivity among the Spanish (1560-1570) to explain his adamant resistance to any European colonization (42-53). Other works like Mette Newths The Abduction (1989) utilize a similar format of shifting perspectives to reveal the relativity of captivity and an explicit indictment of European practices of capturing peoples of color and slavery. Instead, such captivity narratives argue for a universal humanism that is forcibly erased by nationalist and individual greed to perpetuate racial differences in negative terms. Such captivity narratives reveal this constructedness and its consequences, with the further intent of preventing similar circumstances for future participants. Moreover, such strategies illustrate Stuart Halls principles of oppositional codes. In developing his trilogy of possible audience responses to coded productions, Hall argues that the oppositional code represents the most proactive position for audiences since it allows audiences the ability to renegotiate the dominant-hegemonic positions (re)presented to them. Many of the revisionists considered below actively use this strategy for that effect. One of the single best examples of such a use of captivity narratives is Cynthia Hasseloffs Satanta's Woman (1998). In part, Satanta's Woman follows from a longer tradition of captivity-as-complexity fostered by authors like Dorothy Johnson and Jack Jackson. 6 But it goes beyond these works use of captivity by representing the complexities of the captive's experiences in greater detail. However, her distinction is not 6 Tuska claims that Hasseloff copied Johnsons captivity story, Lost Sister (1956) in long-hand to study her narrative technique (382).

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21 simply a matter of length; it hinges upon the representation of the multiple possibilities of captivity. To do so, she pointedly avoids the simplistic binarism that would counter stereotypical captivity-as-conflict with an overtly positive endorsement of Otherness. For example, she has Adrienne come to greater realization of her Christian identity through her captivity (e.g. 202), then to a morality that transcends the precepts of both Judeo-Christian and Kiowa precepts, and even becomes a potential source or reconciliation between the two cultures as when she begins to show Woven Blanket and the others how to plant seeds, and their inherent meaning (242). Hasseloff includes traditional captivity elements when she has Woven Blanket recount the Kiowa woman Ah-tah-zone-mah's captivity narrative which relates how she brought Buffalo Medicine to the people (119-20). Furthermore, Hasseloff plays off conventional and revisionist images when she has Adreienne and her family captured (45-66). She has Adrienne recall Satanta's brutality even during the height of her love for him, as when she watches him dance his pledge to return Lottie to her (239-40). Again, Hasseloff avoids the simplistic erasure of past horrors; instead she reveals the full range of possibilities for captivity. Undoubtedly, her major emphasis is on the relativity involved in captivity. She places most of her authorial weight on validating Adrienes Comanche captors and their life ways as human, not savage. Captivity-as-Comedy "Due to the length of our program, it will be necessary to cut short this thrilling chase between Capt. Johnny Smith and the Indians." -Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas

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22 Captivity as comedy encompasses a diverse range of media and the entire century, but it reiterates the same rhetorical position: conventional captivity is a construction of nationalistic and patriarchal origins. 7 Many comedic uses of captivity specifically indict the very basis for the conventional images of captivity and identity by overemphasizing the conventions major attributes. This focus through excess reveals the excessive nature of conventional images. Notable examples of this mode include Abbott and Costellos Ride Em Cowboy (1942), John Barth's The Sot-Weed Factor (1960), and The Hallelujah Trail (1965), Tom K. Ryans Tumbleweeds comic strip (1965-present), and Great Scout and Cathouse Thursday (1976). In addition to this general indictment of racist agendas, many cartoons from the Thirties also target specifically the ways in which its reductive rhetoric employs captivity to further vilify Native peoples. 8 For example, in Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938) Egghead, portraying John Smith, accidentally knocks over his subtitle. This gesture, in addition to casting Egghead as Smith, and the cartoon's title in metatextual terms, indicate the ways in which this cartoon will directly engage the representations of captivity 7 If we were to include all uses of captivity for comedic effect, we would need to include movies like Congo Maisie (1940), in which Ann Sothern forestalls her captors through her vaudeville magic act, or the more recent Revenge of the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise (1987), where the hazing frat brothers don Mesoamerican costumes and pretend to sacrifice a maiden they have captured and taken to a psuedo MesoAmerican temple. However, my intention is to explore not simply every comedic use of captivity, but those which seek to redefine captivity and promote the humanity of Native peoples. Sothern's performance reifies a racist, imperialist view of ignoble savagery which can be manipulated by the most amateurish performance, while the mock sacrifice serves only to further humiliate the pledges and reinforce stereotypical images of Native peoples. In both cases, captivity confirms, rather than challenges, negative concepts of hierarchy and identity. But such is not the case in the overwhelming number of examples that we will examine which use captivity to directly challenge that apparently dominant rhetoric. 8 The Warner Brothers animation studio busily creates images of Native peoples that engage racist concepts while promoting them. This graphematic discourse defines much of Warners' and other studios animation with regard to race and gender issues. Anyone who has seen any of the following titles will recognize how easily the two coincide in Warner cartoons like Sweet Sioux for example. During the Thirties, it produces at least seven cartoons that directly bear on our investigation here: Westward Whoa (1936), Sweet Sioux (1937), Injun Trouble and Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938), Pied Piper Porky (1939), Scalp Trouble and Sioux Me (1939).

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23 surrounding the Smith/Pocahontas legend: as one of the prime icons of this legend, Smiths captivity and the legend itself will become targets for literal and figurative displacement. After the ship lands in America, the theater management informs viewers that "Due to the length of our program, it will be necessary to cut short this thrilling chase between Capt. Johnny Smith and the Indians." This direct address both invokes the audience's familiarity with the basic story while denying its near-sacred status. The next scene reveals Smith on the chopping block, a dotted line defining where his captors will slice off his head (literally using golf strokes) while a cheering section clamors with the contemporary football cheer "Give 'em the axe! The axe! The axe!" This conflation underscores the violent nature of the cheer as well as collapsing cultural and temporal differences between the captors and attendants of a football game in 1930s U.S. This collapse accelerates over the next scenes. When Poker-Huntas learns what is happening from Walter Winchell on the radio, she speeds to Smith's rescue in her car. His captors give chase in their cars, after counting to 50. During the chase, Poker-Huntas directly addresses the audience, saying "Now, don't you people out there get excited, because you see the Indians don't catch us and we escape on a ship." Egghead prevents her from finishing the story, but the cartoon ends years later with the couple happily married. They offer their numerous children as a direct reproof of The Last of the Mohicans thereby directly challenging the authority of Cooper's novel and its attendant ideologies, as well as directly referencing contemporary movie versions (like the 1932 Mascot serial version or the 1936 big-screen version starring Randolph Scott). Other examples from this time argue for a pervasive revisionism. During Porkys protracted exchange with the King of the Cats (disguised as a giant rat to prevent Porky

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24 from receiving his reward form Hamlins mayor) in Pied Piper Porky (1939), the Warner animators reference this revisionist perspective. By doing so, it continues to (re)present revisionist issues to audiences thereby amplifying the potential effects of such agendas. Van Buren Studios Molly Moo-Cow and the Indians (1935) offers a much more detailed revision when it has Molly Moo-Cow rescue her two duck friends from a male Indian who imagines them as a roast duck dinner. He captures them by encircling them with arrows. The ingenious ducks (ala Last of the Mohicans ) drop arrows from his quiver to indicate their trail to Molly. Molly discovers them as their captor has tied them upright (not like the image of the duck dinner he had originally imagined) to a stake. He gathers fuel and tenders a fire, at which point Molly arrives to plead and then fight for their lives. By shifting the ducks from potential duck dinners to actual captives (horizontal to vertical roasting positions), this cartoon clearly references the conventions of captivity. The ducks are not longer entrees but captives. By having them become captives, this cartoon has redefined the conventional terms of captivity: captivity can now be of any one, regardless of species. As spurious as this may at first seem, this translation emphasizes the relative exclusivity of conventional captivity--its rigidity and reductiveness. This cartoon further emphasizes this constructedness by contrasting the Indian males savagery with the Indian womans humanity (her intercession on Molly and the ducks parts). A contemporary Three Stooges short Whoops! Im an Indian (1937) Curlys impersonation of a Native woman is replete with similar revisionist references to Pocahontas in contrast to rapacious whites. Finally, a decade later, Fleischer Studios produces Wigwam Whoopee ( 1948), in which Popeye (as John Smith) and Olive Oyl (as

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25 Pocahontas) enact their own version of this revision of the Pocahontas/Smith legend and its effect on representations of captivity. As these examples indicate, many studios and media used similar referential orchestrations to emphasize the constructedness of Pocahontas and Smiths story, particularly Smiths captivity. These different examples target Smiths captivity because of its primacy and authority over other captivity narratives. In other words, by referencing and revising the source of conventional captivity narratives, these media seek to revise all aspects of conventional captivity imagery. One final example illustrates how animation engages and extends prior restrictive representations of captivity. Early in this decade, Disney releases Pioneer Days (1930). This cartoon is replete with standard rhetoric: pioneers fulfilling Manifest Destiny and having a good-old-fashioned dance to cheer themselves up while evil Native characters (here anthropomorphized into liquid weasels whose savagery drips from their every move) spy and plot their murder and capture. When the inevitable confrontation comes, it is in standard circled wagons format, enlivened by the animators humorous presentation of the situation. Predictably, one of the evil weasels captures Minnie, thereby necessitating Mickeys masculinity to empower him to rescue her. Minnie suffers the conventional binding to a stake and threats of death and the fate worse than death, while Mickey ineffectively struggles to overcome her captor. With its ironic ending, this cartoon emphasizes the constructedness of conventional captivity images, and especially calls the entire complex into question through Mickeys inability to rescue Minnie, and her own ability to rescue herself. What appears is a strong, independent female captive, whose resourcefulness rivals that of her Native counterparts and other Anglo captives

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26 who affect their own rescues. This endorsement of female captives capabilities and problematization of conventional captivity terms completely contrasts with the cartoons original reification of conventional, reductive rhetoric. Captivity-as-Commodity Epics follow a well-paved story line which satisfies a host of white male expectations: the white woman is captured by savages--and we all know how they treat their women; she is forced to live in a state of utter humiliation and abjection, raped, beaten, tortured, finally stripped and murdered. Such little comedies serve to titillate the white male, intimidate his woman, and slander the persons upon whom the white male has shifted the burden of his own prurient sadism. --Kate Millet, Sexual Politics Captivity-as-commodity brings a constellation of issues with it whenever it appears. Obviously, such a use of captivity brings up what have become standard questions of commodification: Who is commodified? By whom? Why? 9 These three simple questions translate into incredibly complex sets of issues revolving around captivity in general and the specific instances being represented. Moreover, emphasis on the economic dimension of captivity redefines it as a practice driven by markets, not by the Native captors essential savagery. Perhaps the two best places to see this dynamic are where the authors specifically designate the captives as part of a commercial circulation system in which captivity is simply a component: in other words, when captives appear equal to horses or other goods (e.g. Dorothy Johnsons A Man Called Horse, 1950, and Will Cook's Saga of Texas 1959). Such an explanation immediately confronts the reductive equation of captivity with conflict, and in part, justifies captivity as part of another/an Other's economic (and 9 In this respect, I do not differ from the perennial source of such questioning, Gayle Rubins The Traffic in Women (1975).

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27 by extension cultural) system. Many of these examples involve Native female captives, which in turn indicts many of the conventional assumptions about. Moreover, many of these works using captivity-as-commodity foreground the silencing imposed upon red and white women when commodified by captivity and by their original cultural identities. The Big Sky (1952) illustrates these last points. In the movie version, white trappers seek to use Native female captives as part of larger, personal bid for imperialism. In other words, by ransoming a female captive and returning her to her people, these trappers seek to insure their own monopoly over trade with her people. In both movies the protagonists explicitly define the female captives as purely economic pawns in a larger game. In both cases, the tribe to which the female captive is returned is Blackfoot. And in both cases, opportunism and greed turn to romance and relativism, as the would-be-exploiters becomes romantically involved with the captives. In the movie version of Big Sky Teal Eyes (Elizabeth Threatt) is a captive, while in the original book (1947) Guthrie has her as simply someone who had been rescued from the Missouri River and kept among the lower trading settlements until Jourdanais seeks to return her to her people as part of his trading strategy. The movie explicitly rearticulates conventional captivity by contextualizing Teal Eyes narrative as one of captivity: When Jim (Kirk Douglass) asks Zeb (Arthur Hunnicutt) to explain her reason for being on the journey, Zeb succinctly states: Crow war party catched her. Crow and Blackfeet hate each other. Pure luck she slipped away fore they could kill her. This brief explanation foregrounds both economic and intertribal dimensions of captivity, as well as featuring a resourceful Native female captive (part of a larger Native captivity narrative tradition). Moreover,

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28 her role as hostage in Jourdanais scheme redefines her return to her people as a second captivity. 10 Across the Wide Missouri (1951) and The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976) perform similar sorts of economic erasure of female captives. Alternatively, revisionist uses of captivity-as-commerce emphasize that economy, as does a wide range of texts from Two Rode Togethe r (1961) to the Gunsmoke episode "The Squaw" (1975) to Kenneth Thomasma's Naya Nuki (1982) Captivity-as-Context Ironically, the earliest New World captivity narratives must have been told by American natives: Spaniards, not Indians, first seized hapless victims to serve as guides, interpreters, hostages, or curiosities. But the Indians soon retaliated, and because Europeans long had a monopoly on the written word, most printed accounts related capture by Indians. Hence captivity narrative came to mean an account, usually autobiographical, of forced participation in Indian life. -Alden T. Vaughan and Edward W. Clark, Puritans Among the Indians Another integral part of revisionary captivity uses is captivity-as-context. Essentially, this category argues for the relativity of the terms and designation of captivity. It forms a corollary with captivity-as-conspiracy in its emphasis on the constructedness of captivity for political motives. Richard Wheelers The Two Medicine River (1993) and Earl Murrays Flaming Sky (1995) do so for adult audiences, while Sherry Garland does so in her young adult historical novel Indio (1995). Ostensibly, her novel chronicles the transition of Native peoples into Mexicans in Post-Contact Texas and Mexico. In the process, however, she also defines the Jumano peoples taken by the Spanish slavers as captives (124), with its consequential rearticulation of conventional 10 Intriguingly, the French version of this movie retitles it as La Captive Aux Yeux Clairs --thereby directly defining it as a captivity narrative.

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29 roles and definitions for captivity. She includes a traditional Jumano story, about how the first woman rescued a group of people from their captivity, for which she was punished (59-60), thereby invoking certain Native traditions on captivity. And, finally, she includes the story of Ipas sister Xucate, who was also captured with her, as she plans and executes her escape from their abusive captors (213), thereby referencing traditional Native captivity forms as we have seen. In this way Garland has recontextualized captivity as a construction dependent upon the individual examples circumstances. Paul Fleischman, perhaps best known for his 1989 Newberry winning Joyful Noise offers his version of this mode with his Saturnalia (1990). He makes this alignment explicit through his endnotes in which he the slavery and captivity of Narragansett people by English Colonists (111-2). Similarly, well known Magic Tree House author Mary Pope Osborne emphasizes the contextuality of captivity in her Standing in the Light (1998). By so doing, Fleischman and Osborne join the league of other juvenile authors who wish to effect long-term changes to perceptions of captivity and Native peoples by emphasizing their contextuality. Many reference-oriented works also employ captivity-as-context to reveal the existence of captivity in formerly/formally erased categories. For example, captivity appears without apology in works like The American Girls Welcome to Josefinas World, 1824 (1999) which represents captivity as a given in New Mexican society at this time by profiling a Navaho captive among the Spanish, Rosario, and a Spanish captive among the Apache and her treatment upon return, Refugio (38-39). Along similar lines, Kim Dramers Native Americans and African Americans (1997) represents the relativity

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30 of captivity among Native and African Americans, as well as revealing the extent of the slave/captive trade in Native Americans by EuroAmericans (16-17). Captivity-as-Conspiracy Consider the use of the experience of enslavement in works by black writers. This is not a subject that plays much of a role in Indian narrative works, not because Indians werent enslaved but because their traditions dont include them in the same form in which it appears in black American traditions. For us, the whole issue of enslavement is part of the issue of conquest and colonization. In that context, it becomes a theme that shows up frequently in Native writers stories about jail, boarding school, war, and abduction. In all of these stories the underlying theme is about forced separation, signifying the loss of self and loss of personal meaning. Separation as loss (rather than as maturation or liberation) is a theme found all over Native America in both pre-contact and modern forms, and is particularly central to Native womens stories in both their told-to-people and told-to-the-page modes --Paula Gunn Allen, Spider Womans Granddaughters As with the other modes, captivity-as-conspiracy underscores the constructedness of captivity conventions (which is a larger strategy to demonize Native peoples and thereby facilitate their colonization and even extermination). In other words, authors use captivity to reveal the conspiracy driving such nationalism and racism. Leslie Marmon Silkos Almanac of the Dead (1991) represents one of the most radical revisions of captivity yet. It incorporates several aspects of captivity from metaphorical fantasy (Ferros fantasy of himself as Jameys captive, 455) to historical rearticulations of captivity and slavery (Clintons revisionist project, 413-31). In the process, Silko unrelentingly redefines captivity in the terms that she has used previously: captivity is a construction used by colonial powers to perpetuate their own authority; once revealed, characters and readers realize the binarism inherent in such constructions versus the realities of captivity. Or as she phrases it near the end of this novel: Ignorance of the peoples history had been the white mans best weapon (742).

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31 Silko most forcefully rearticulates captivity and slavery as they manifested themselves in the Americas. At the general level it drives much of the plot, both as an aspect of the larger darkness at work in PostContact America. At the specific level, she highlights captivity practice and experience to define characters. Often, she combines these two perspectives, telescoping the specific and general into one. For example, she uses long chronological listings of events that are obscured by history or denied as instances of captivity (e.g. Angelitas reading the list of resistance, 527-30 and Clintons list 742-46). These listings reveal both the construction of these categories and their relativism. Another place she redefines captivity is by labeling the jailing of Geronimo and his people as the lifelong captivity they had to endure because of their resistance to colonial expansion by U.S. interests (129). She further amplifies this redefinition by repeatedly revealing the exploitation motivating much of the Apache persecution (e.g. 80, 133, 220-29). In one of her most radical revisions, she has Mosca imagine a Moslem world order in which European captives prove too demanding of their time and attention so they would opt for natural population increases to take over Europe (611). In short, Silkos revision of captivity in Almanac of the Dead is as thorough and as confrontational as every other topic in this work. Anyone who has read the book will know to what extent that can be. As with Silko, authors using this mode often reveal the racist dimensions of conventional captivity rhetoric. The most often do so by problematizing the terms of captivity and slavery. This equation further emphasizes the political dimensions of captivity in conventional images. Perhaps one of the best examples of this reformulation occurs when famous children's author Joyce Hansen argues for the relativity of captivity

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32 as a concept and definition in The Captive (1994), the narrative of an Ashanti prince, Kofi Kwame, captured in Africa and brought to the U.S. where he is sold as a slave. To underscore the relativity of slavery and captivity, she has Kofi constantly and consistently define himself as a "captive" (e.g. 124). As other children's authors do, Hansen also advocates for the ability of her audiences to comprehend this relativity. She has the further intention of complicating the terms of captivity at an early age so that readers will continue to question categories of captivity and identity throughout their lives. Other authors engage in similar reformulations of captivity for Hispano and Native Americans. One telling example comes from Jim Whitewolfs recounting of his Kiowa heritage also reveals the racist constructions of captivity with regard to Hispano and Native Americans. For example, he reveals how the U.S. military imposes racial identity upon a group of captured Kiowa warriors at Fort Sill (Brant 69). Captivity-as-Contrast Critical energies in cultural studies of popular media are often pulled between two rival but complicit temporal modes I have touched on in this book: chronic stasis ("it's all more of the same, nothing ever changes") and acute contemporaneity or dynamitis ("that was then, this is now!"). Both prolongations of historicism, . --Meaghan Morris, Too Soon Too Late Most often those authors using captivity-as-conspiracy will also use captivity-as-contrast to amplify the differences between red and white peoples, particularly as an inversion of standard representations. These texts use captivity to illustrate the extremes to which Anglo captors go in their actions, in contrast to Native peoples. For example, Zane Grey continually invokes the image of captivity by white renegades as the absolute nadir of possible captivity experiences--far more brutal than anything Native captors could inflict. Clifton Wisler represents the horrors of white torture of red captives in

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33 Among the Eagles (1989). There he has Willie futilely try to prevent the torture and murder of two Native children captured by Schultz, the gigantic miner, teamed with Bee and Hawler who savagely abuse two Native children that they have captured (89). Similarly, T. T. Flynn's last novel Night of the Comanche Moon (1995), plays off a revisionist captivity narrative (Mexicans taking Comanches and others captives) against more traditional images of Comanche abuse of captives. As part of their revisionist agendas, both novels constantly and consistently attribute the excesses of captivity to non-Native captors. In contrast to these relatively simple uses of captivity-as-contrast, other authors complicate these issues by erasing the binaries of race such uses often reify. In Fools Crow (1986), James Welch offers extensive revisions of captivity, which we will explore later. However, he uses captivity-as-contrast, not to illustrate the excesses of white captors, but to argue for those excesses as a consequence of a larger degenerative pattern affecting both peoples. To do so, he invokes images from captivity conventions. He specifically attributes desires for white women to the renegade band led by Owl Child. He portrays them lazing about, discussing the white women they had had before and their desire for more in the future. Owl Child jokes that Crow Top wants himself another white woman because they are better than his hand, even better than his dog! (208). When the party raids the white family to avenge Fast Horses wounded pride and side, Welch has the members rape the mother, then leave her in a state of shock as testimony to Owl Childs virulence. Owl Child rationalizes not killing her thusly: And when they see that nothing-look in her eyes they would become frightened (217). Moreover, Welch has Fast Horse kill the white father too quickly, thus depriving him of

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34 the pleasure of slow torture. In both instances, Welch frustrates conventions of captivity. Admittedly, he does have the white woman raped and devastated mentally and emotionally, and the white man killed, but in doing so he emphasizes the ways in which Owl Child uses captivity to redefine the terms of his and his peoples devastation by whites. What follows represents my best effort to remain faithful to the moral aspects of revisionism. I have tried to faithfully (re)present these texts in a way and place that allows them to continue their dialogue, with the further intent of their initiating a continuing dialogue about captivity narrative studies.

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CHAPTER 2 1900-1919 Notice to hostile Injuns--Next time you massacre this settlement, bring back the pail, and dont leave the covers off the milk pans --Ernest Thompson Seton, Two Little Savages She was returning to the home of her childhood; not voluntarily, but as a captive; captive to her own kindred, her father and mother! --Captain Mayne Reid, The Scalp Hunters The Mexican government is trying to root out the Yaquis. A year ago his tribe was taken in chains to a Mexican port on the Gulf. The fathers, mothers, children, were separated and put in ships bound for Yucatan. There they were driven, beaten, starved. Each slave had for a day's rations a hunk of sour dough, no more. . You see, the Mexicans won't kill outright in their war of extermination of the Yaquis. They get use out of them. Its a horrible thing. . Well, this Yaqui you brought in escaped from his captors, got aboard ship, and eventually reached New Orleans. Somehow he traveled way out here. --Zane Grey, Desert Gold To begin our discussion of the Twentieth Centurys contribution to revising captivity and Native identity, we could start virtually anywhere and with anyone--the wealth of possible choices is staggering. We could begin, for example, in the Nineteenth century with authors like Lydia Maria Childs Hobomok (1824) or Catharine Maria Sedgwicks Hope Leslie (1827). We could also add William Apess autobiographical writings. These three, along with numerous others, are still in print and readily available at the start of the century, still voicing their revisionism. However, we will begin with examples from popular authors Edward S. Ellis, Captain Mayne Reid, and Marah Ellis 35

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36 Ryan. These examples indicate the extent and continuity of revisionist representations of captivity prior to the actual turn of the century. They also hint at the largely unexplored body of works from the Nineteenth century that foster alternatives to the sensationalized rhetoric of most captivity narratives, primarily by problematizing the terms of captivity, representing captivity as a complex experience, and Native peoples as people. Ellis Wolf Ear The Indian (1900) does so by having Wolf Ear, an Oglallah warrior adopted by an Anglo family, rescue Edith from his evil twin who is in the act of capturing her. By so representing Ediths captivity and Wolf Ears action, Ellis relativizes captivity and identity. Similarly, Reids The Scalp Hunters (1851) problematizes conventional codes by juxtaposing them with revisionist counters. Primarily, it plays off the standard image of the white female captive (Adele) who has lost her mind and self as a consequence of her captivity against the barbaric captivity of the Navahos Sequins party takes while trying to rescue Adele (355, 444-5). However, he saves his final, and most effective transcoding for the novels end, which he destabilizes by explicitly labeling her new situation as captivity: She was returning to the home of her childhood; not voluntarily, but as a captive; captive to her own kindred, her father and mother! (446-7). This statement indicates the possibility of audiences accepting radically revisionist arguments in the middle of the Nineteenth Century and later. Because this statement appears in a Reid book, it carries a great deal of authority with audiences, who will consequently be willing to accept its revisionist impulse. 1 1 In Th e White Chief (1872), Reid offers another twist on conventional captivity plots by having Commandate Vizcarra, and his cohort Captain Robaldo, kidnap Rosita, the object of the Commandates lust and convince her that she is a captive of either Yutas or Jicarillaswhat he calls this travestie of Indians (182).

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37 In Squaw louise (1892) Marah Ellis Ryan articulates revisionist arguments in two significant ways. First, Ryan profiles tribal custom which allows women to be held as slaves, which in turn introduces the notion of red-on-red captivity. Second, and more significantly, Ryan has louise maintain Dunbar as a figurative captive while she nurses him back to healtha prisoner of love, as Norris Yates puts it (119). Yates further argues that this aspect of the novel illustrates that louise is trying to assert her independence as a woman even as she submits to the demand of both white and Native American cultures for the females total subservience to the male she loves. . The covert message: Under the double standard in white society husbands are relatively free to walk away, and many wives have virtually enslaved themselves to hold their mates, sometimes without being aware of their self-enslavement or realizing that by accepting the double standard they are in essence creating their own captivity, forging their own chains. (119) Despite its insight, Yates reading ignores how louise allows her captive to decide his own status--a direct refutation of the overt slavery system from which louise comes and the one which she continues to inhabit. louise, by her rearticulating Dunbars captivity, offers a model by which to refute these absolutist patriarchal institutions--a point to which both Yates and Reep would agree. 2 All of these authors advance revisionist positions through rearticulations of conventional images of captivity and Native identity. All significantly alter the roles 2 As Diana Reep shows, few novels from this period allow Native American women to be anything other than devoted worshippers of the white male protagonists for whom they ultimately die, as in Stewart Edward Whites The Silent Places (1904) and in Jack Londons Smoke Bellew (1912) (94-96). As Reep and Yates argue, women characters at this point may function as objects of rescue, but as a rule may not rescue themselves to their male love interests. However, in Ryans case here, Yates argues that The two-voiced strategy may here operate in reverse. The books message about what male chauvinism, Indian and white, does to women was socially unpalatable, yet it may have outweighed the conventional but barely brushed-in message at closure that the ideal marriage is that of a white hero to a passive and virginal white woman young enough to look up to him as a father figure and quasi-god as well as husband. This kind of ending is proper regardless of the heros previous conduct concerning any sexually attractive but socially ineligible female. (120-21)

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38 played by captives and captors within the convention. In so doing, they emphasize the hegemonic reduction inherent in that convention by explicitly portraying Native peoples as people, not simply demons driven by excesses against Anglo characters, and by representing captivity as a relative construct. Each may end his or her novel with conventional endings: death insuring against miscegenation; conventional heroes and heroines (re)uniting in true romantic happy endings; Native characters willingly serving Anglo characters. But these endings do not erase the problematization their novels rearticulations of captivity and Native identity had first introduced into the convention. Now, I do not intend to suggest the origin of Twentieth Century revisionism in Reids, Ryans, or Ellis, or for that matter Childs or Sedgwicks works. Pinpointing the origin of this movement necessarily would involve much more research than could be encapsulated here. It would also necessarily precipitate us into the sorts of critical and theoretical pitfalls against which critics like Mani warn us. My intention here is to demonstrate the existence and vitality of a movement actively engaged in revising conventional images of captivity and Native identity. Moreover, as this brief survey indicates, many sources exist at this time, which have not received critical attention by captivity narrative theorists perhaps because they do not fall under the canonical umbrella (these works would be more familiar to childrens literature critics than captivity narrative critics, which again underscores the myopia in which the field operates for the most part). To demonstrate this vitality and variety, we will turn to a larger survey, again in works perhaps obscured to captivity narrative theorists because of their designation as other than captivity narratives. We will begin with an apparently unlikely source, Frederic Remington, then follow with works by

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39 Stewart Edward White, James Willard Schultz, Honor Willsie Morrow, Zane Grey, and a host of others--all of which reveal how wide spread revisionism is at the start of the Twentieth Century. Fiction Frederic Remington Remingtons visual work contrasts sharply with his verbal work with regard to captivity and Native Identity. In his visual works, he almost exclusively promotes conventional images of Native peoples and captivity, while in his written work, he often complicates and even contradicts these conventions. This conflict reveals Remingtons own ambivalence toward these conventions, and becomes more apparent when compared with his contemporaries. Remingtons visual work contrasts sharply with contemporaries like C. M. Russell, who never portrayed captivity (with one minor exception) 3 or Native peoples negatively. For example, Russells positive work for Frank B. Lindermans Indian Why Tales (1915), which lovingly represents traditional Blackfoot tales and life ways, contrasts sharply with Remingtons work which primarily represents Native peoples as studies or as antagonists. In contrast, Captured (1898), one of Remingtons images of captivity, is more consistent with contemporaries like Irving Crouses The Captive (1892): both 3 Janice Broderick calls Russells The Capture of Laura Edgar (1894) uncharacteristic (26-27). She argues that Russell derives this painting from Wimars The Abduction of Daniel Boones Daughter by the Indians (1853) and Billy Bowlegs (1861), both of which would have been widely available. In addition, she argues for a striking similarity between Russells image and that of a plate in the contemporary popular history Indi an Horrors; or, Massacres by the Red Men (np. 1891, p. 143) by Henry Davenport Northrop, entitled Capture of the Boone and Galloway Girls (Broderick 34, n. 20). The actual engraving in Northrops anthology (p. 142) shows three young girls menaced by four Native warriors. For a reproduction of Russells painting, see Broderick page 60, which reveals Russells very sedate image of captivity.

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40 images invoke conventional rhetoric of feminized Anglo captives awaiting their fates at the hands of menacing Dark Others. According to Alexander Nemerov, in Captured Remington relies heavily on the contrast between the smooth whiteness of the captives body and the rough darkness of his captors as metaphors informing this paintings Progressive ideals. 4 This strategy fits with Remingtons ideological representations elsewhere, which Nemerov neatly sums up by asking of this painting: How better to show Anglo-Saxon lineage than to show a trooper about the be blooded to de heels? (22). Remington, then, uses captivity in this painting to maintain an impassable gulf between Anglo and Native peoples. Other paintings like Return of a Blackfoot War Party (1888) reinforce the violence inherent in conventional images of captivity. The painting clearly shows a Blackfoot war partys roughly herding two bound Native captives toward a Blackfoot village. Occurring almost a decade before Captured this painting is Remingtons submission to the National Academy of Design for that year and appears in George William Sheldons Recent Ideals of American Art (188-89). This notoriety popularizes this image and its illustrator, but it also promotes the image of red-on-red captivity. His magazine illustrations amplify this negative rhetoric. Given their wider audience, these illustrations promote that rhetoric to a wider audience than his gallery work. A Troopers Fate in Apache-Land, for example, represents the initial phase of a 4 In his reexamination of Remingtons works (1995), Alexander Nemerov argues that his painting Captured (1899) conventionally depicts the whites of the Old West as sacrifices to progress: they died so that the West could be settled (21). Remingtons depictions of Anglo stoicism in the face of impending torture and death at the hands of dark Native others might produce an invigorating effect on their viewers, as his comments elsewhere indicate that he intended they should. But, as Nemerov argues about C aptured (1899), they might also serve to underscore the lack of masculinity both solider and gallery-viewer share (126-27). If so, they would enact a form of captivity on the viewer--dragging the viewer off to be victimized as in A Troopers Fate. This indeterminacy assumes further dimensions when we consider how Remington intended Captured to be his means for full membership in the National Academy of Design in 1899.

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41 soldiers captivity, leaving the viewer to complete the troopers fated torture and death by his captors. While three warriors search for any signs of rescue, two more warriors, each clutching one of the troopers booted feet, drag his unconscious body toward his fate. 5 Dark Otherness conspires to inflict unspeakable acts on a hapless, white victim. The conclusions of these acts appear in We Discovered in a Little Ravine Three Men Lying Dead with Their Bodies Full of Arrows 1899 (reproduced in McClures June 1899) and Your SoldierHe Say (reproduced in Owen Wisters Done in the Open: Drawings by Frederic Remington 1902). However negative his visual position on captivity may be, his verbal position is far more reversionary. Such contradictory positions toward captivity inform Remingtons larger relationship with captivity--a relationship that is complex and stands in direct contrast to the more general image of him as purveyor of a racist Western iconography. 6 In fact, through the numerous pieces he authors, Remington problematizes the very iconography he is so often credited with championing. 7 In particular, Massais Crooked Trail (1898) celebrates an alternative captivity narrative tradition that questions the very basis of paintings like Missing which he was composing at the same time. Some of his other pieces unmistakably extol the virtues of Native peoples and question nationalistic attempts to control and eliminate them like Uprising of the Yaqui Indians ( Harpers Weekly 29 August 1896). Elsewhere he also represents Native 5 Frederi c Remingtons Own West, p.23. 6 For example, Remington reveals racist ideas his often quoted claims in On the Indian Reservations ( Century July 1889) that Native peoples lack any identifiable rationality (Samuels 35). 7 We catch glimpses of his ambivalence toward this reductive rhetoric when we compare his illustrations to the Red and White on the Border chapter of Theodore Roosevelts Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail (1888, republished in 1915) with Roosevelts extreme language. In this chapter, Roosevelt offers an extended account of atrocities committed by Sioux captors during the Sioux Uprising. He manages this scene of violence inflicted on the captives with finesse (e.g. putting them to death with tortures that cannot be hinted at 107). Remington, however, does not contribute any comparable image to this chapter. Instead he represents Native peoples with remarkable restraint and respect.

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42 identity in a positive light, as in his last and most lengthy exploration of a more-Native side of the frontier issue, The Way of an Indian which is first serialized in Cosmopolitan (November 1905 March 1906) then reprinted in hard cover in 1906. We can gauge the extent to which Remington identifies with revisionism, when we consider that he lists The Way of an Indian among his writings in 1902, more than three years before it was published, while he does not mention John Ermine which he was writing at the time. Moreover, this was his last published piece. Further evidence occurs in his 1907 confession to Perriton Maxwell: I shall never write another word. I only wrote those books of mine to introduce people to the subjects I was trying to draw. Pony Tracks Crooked Trials The Way of the Indian [sic] were done with the deliberate view of educating men and women, who knew not the West, up to a certain standard of appreciation for its beauties, fascinations, and intrinsic worth (Samuels 627). Despite his heavy emphasis on the didactic function of his writings as simply vehicles for self-promotion, Remington introduces issues that problematize categories of racial identity. His primary vehicle for such questioning these categories is captivity as revealed in Crooked Trails (1898). Remingtons Crooked Trails (1898) offers a variety of potential revisions to captivity conventions. For example, Remington ends this collection with an experimental, even metatextual, piece, The Spirit of Mahongui, which sacrifices much of the details of Bailloquets captivity among the Iroquois for stylistic effect. 8 In this respect, it offers an oblique gesture toward revising conventional captivity narrative forms and ideologies. Joshua Goodenoughs Old Letter foregrounds the rhetorical elements of captivity 8 This story reappears many times elsewhere: First, in Harpers Monthly (November 1897), then reprinted separately that same year as A Rogers Ranger in the French and Indian War, 1757-1759 (Remingtons second book), next in C rooked Trails (1898), and finally in Stories of Peace and War.

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43 narratives through its narrators self-reflexive commentary on a group of Rangers who had been captured an then killed by their Mohigan captors when they discover Mohigan scalps among the captives. However his most extensive revisionism occurs in Massais Crooked Trail (originally published in Harpers Monthly January 1898). Ostensibly, Remingtons Massais Crooked Trail is the transcript of what the old Apache chief of scouts told him when he demanded to know about Massai (Samuels 277). However, if we read this account of Massais life as simply that then we miss the way in which captivity figures centrally to the storyboth literally and figuratively. Remington embeds Natastles captivity by Massai and her narrative of that captivity as a means whereby to frustrate the official drive toward reductivism. Apparently Massai captures women from the reservation whenever he was tired of making his own fires, and wanted a woman. He tells her: If she was a good girl he would not kill her, but would treat her well and always have venison hanging up (Samuels 280). However, he continues to treat her as a captive, abusing her whenever his heart was bad (280-81). After a long meditation, he returns her to the agency, requesting her to tell the white officer that she was a pretty good girl, better than the San Carlos woman, and that he would come again and get another. This succinct message, coupled with the lengthy insights into Massais character that the story has provided through Natastles captivity, informs many aspects of Massais captivity practices. Primarily it recontextualizes those captivities as aspects of a more complex character rather than simply manifestations of a psychopath. By so recontextualizing Massais life through Natastles captivity, Remington frustrates the official reductions of his life to that of a problem to successive chiefs of

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44 scouts, a bugbear to the reservation Indians, and a terror to Arizona who kills women who did not please his errant fancy (282). Instead, Massai emerges as a complex individual whose actions, especially capturing women, defy conventional labels. By extension, Remington argues that captivity is not necessarily a categorical instance of violence precipitated by the inherent excesses of Native peoples; instead, it is an experience dependent upon the vagaries of the individual captor and his captive. Moreover, the epitome of such excess emerges as a human being with the ability to love another individual, as testified by Natastles captivity narrative. In this way Remington uses conventional representations and expectations of captivity and Native identity to revise those very conventions. These contradictory impulses allow audiences to significantly renegotiate and oppose the hegemonic codes represented in the story--a strategy absent in his visual works Frederic Remingtons John Ermine of the Yellowstone 1902 He continues this strategy in his longest, and perhaps most famous, work, John Ermine (1902). Remington opens John Ermine by invoking the logic defining the majority of conventional captivity narratives: that whites can only be in Indian villages against their willas captivesand that the only moral option for the whites who observe them there (literally and figuratively) is to rescue them. Specifically, Remington has Rocky Dan, a local faro dealer, return to Alder Gulch with the news that he has seen a white boy out in that Crow Injun camp, with yeller hair braided down the sides of his head, all the same Injun and that them Injuns has lifted that kid from some outfit, and that we ought to go out an bring him in (3). Dans observation and hasty conclusion motivate his fellow townsmen to mount a rescue party, but not before Remingtons narrative comments on this effect: The story blew down the gulch on the seven winds.

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45 It appealed to the sympathies of all white men, with double force to their hatred of the Indians. There was no man at Alder Gulch, even the owners of squaws,and they were many,who had not been given cause for this resentment (3-4). Here Remington clearly invokes the reductive effects of conventional captivity ideology to emphasize its reductive rhetoric. To emphasize this point, he further develops this argument by contrasting the captives status among the Absaroke with that among his Anglo rescuers. One of the party, known as The Chairman, cautions against a full-assault, and for negotiations for which he volunteers himself and a mixed-blood known as Chick-Chick. Together they confront the Crow camp with extermination if they d not turn over the boy they believe to be a captive. One white boy is not worth that much, Chick-Chick argues. Before he complies with their demand, the old chief tellingly declares that: He is Crow; his skin is white, but his heart is Absaroke. It makes us bleed to see him go; our women will mourn all this snow for him, but to save my band I give him to you. Take him. He is yours (8). The rescuers return to their town, but not before Remingtons narrative again comments on the effects of this rescue: White Weasel was indeed unharmed as to body, but his feelings had been torn to shreds. He added his small, shrill protesting yells to the general rejoicing (8-9). Thus far, Remington has constructed sympathy towards the boy and his adoptive people, who unwillingly sacrifice him to save the remainder of the band, whereas the white miners act out of resentment and hatred towards a general concept of Indians-as-savages, despite the fact that many of them were the owners of squaws. In constructing these events in this way Remington has placed the onus on prior sensationalized and negative rhetoric, which here precipitate violence and the forced

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46 removal of a boy from his adoptive people. He clearly casts the townspeople as myopic reactionaries in direct contrast to the pragmatic Absaroke chief who sacrifices the happiness of one individual for the sake of the larger group. Finally, he comments on the mental and emotional anguish White Weasel suffers at the hands of his rescuers. In this way Remington pointedly indicts the rhetoric driving these miners to act. Remington continues to comment upon this rhetoric and its effects. He has the miners dub him Gold Nugget, and celebrate White Weasel and the future they project for him throughout the night. In doing so, they also celebrate their own heroism as rescuers within the rhetoric of reductive captivity. Remington then amplifies the ambiguity he had introduced through the chiefs speech and the boys reaction to his rescue by detailing White Weasels brief period of reassimilation, then having him disappear. Before he explains this disappearance, Remington offers a portrait of the Absaroke The Crows, or the Sparrowhawks as they called themselves (13)that privileges their culture, territory, and dtente with whites above other Northern Plains tribes. He then briefly recounts how Ba-cher-hish-aha, White Weasels foster-mother, had rescued her son from the mining camp. Once again, Remington represents how imperative family remains for the Absaroke, in contrast to the miners exploitative impulses and imposition of their own concepts of proper familial and racial relations. He also introduces the notion of alternative captivity traditions: one in which mothers can and do rescue captives from their captors--a modification of the standard model that privileges patriarchal rescuers; another in which Native people rescue Anglo captives from Anglo captors.

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47 White Weasel returns to the life he led before, but Remington carefully constructs the next scene to distinguish White Weasel from his peers and adoptive tribe. As the boys play war games with blunt-tipped arrows, White Weasel receives an arrow in the face without crying out or stopping his charge. Two older Absaroke watching the game comment on White Weasels stoicism: He may be a war-chiefhe leads the boys even now, before he is big enough to climb up the fore leg of a pony to get on its back. The arrow in his face did not stop him. These white men cannot endure pain as we do; they bleat like a deer under the knife. Do you remember the one we built the fire on three grasses ago over by the Big Muddy when Eashdies split his head with a battle-axe to stop the noise? Brother, little White Weasel is a Crow. (15) Here, Remington explicitly invokes captivity as a means for distinguishing cultural groups, as many others have, into those savages who delight in torture and captivity and those, usually protagonists, who do not. He creates terms that complicate this neat binary, since the basis for comparison foregrounds the inability of race to ultimately determine actions, despite the claimants assertions. One example occurs during a discussion of White Weasels potential as an Absaroke leader: Little Weasels fortunes had taken him far a field. He was born white, but he had a Crow heart, so the tribesmen persuaded themselves. They did not understand the laws of heredity. They had never hunted those (22). This ambiguity prevents his characterizing the Absaroke as being privileged observers, thereby avoiding the binarism that simply inverts conventional terms. Instead, Remington complicates all assertions of racial identity through statements like this. To prove his point, Remington devotes the remainder of the novel to White Weasels failed attempts at reassimilating into Anglo culture. His primary focus in doing so is White Weasels failure to realize Merrils (Crooked-Bears)prophecy that he will

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48 become white again, own wagons full of sugar and coffee, and even marry a white woman, before he renames him John Ermine (73-74). Remington manifests all of this failure through White Weasels relationship with Miss Searles. When she rejects his liminality for conventional Anglo masculinity (Butler), Remington has White Weasel devolve into a subhuman character: All the patient training of Crooked-Bear, all the humanizing moods of the pensive face in the photograph, were blown from the fugitive as though carried by the wind; he was a shellfish-eating cave-dweller, with a Springfield, a knife, and a revolver. He had ceased to think in English, and muttered to himself in Absaroke (268-69). Most critics have emphasized this ending as a definitive statement of Remingtons Progressive ideology. For example, Bold sees this conclusion as the inevitable outcome of Remingtons allowing progressive elements to encircle his indigenous characters (52-64). However, these critics ignore the reversionary impulses determining the novels course from its opening--the places where Remington indicts those conventions. The rhetoric of conventional captivity precipitates this tragedy, not the inevitability of colonial domination. White Weasels tragic end results from the original impulses motivating the miners to rescue him from who they believe to be his Absaroke captors. Thus, Remington argues for a revision of those conventions Stewart Edward Whites The Girl Who Got Rattled, 1904 In a strategy similar to Remingtons, Stewart Edward White also emphasizes the constructedness of conventional captivity in order to empower readers to rearticulate that rhetoric. His short story "The Girl Who Got Rattled" does more than define the reticent protagonist of Arizona Nights (1904): it engages the expectations produced by sensationalized captivity narratives and throws them on their ears. As with most short

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49 stories, this one relies on its ironic ending, but in doing so, it rearticulates the very foundations of negative stereotypes against Native peoples promulgated by horrific captivity narratives. White constructs an elaborate scene which allows him to both invoke then deny the very discourse he targets. First, he creates a stereotypically shy cowboy protagonist, Alfred, whose affection for the dismissive Easterner, Miss Caldwell, renders him mute. White then has this character galvanize into a no-none-sense action-hero when he realizes that a Sioux war party is heading toward the spot where Miss Caldwell is enjoying a ride. White next interjects standard rhetorical imagery to define the attackers as demons: e.g. "an outlandish and terrifying species" (327). He thereby invokes the standard matrix of imagery associated with Indian attackers sensationalized in captivity narratives. Readers also see the effects of such imagery when they witness Miss Caldwell's abject terror at the thought of the attack. White then constructs an elaborate scene which brings the terror associated with their upcoming fight and the contextual reading White has invoked into full detail when he has Alfred counsel Miss Caldwell about the impending attack (327). White invokes the conventions of the-last-bullet and the-fate-worse-than-death, emphasizing them textually through his punctuation. He does, however, avoid any explicit sexual threat to Miss Caldwell by detailing her violent fate. Having thus constructed this scene, White sets about to deflate it and its attendant context of negative imagery about captivity and captors. He has Alfred fall into a prairie dog hole at the moment of the attack. Seeing him fall, Miss Caldwell believes he is dead and therefore shoots herself. Her belief in Alfred's warning literally leads her to kill herself, not her would-be captors. Her belief that captivity is a fate worse than death causes her to take Alfred's advice too literally.

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50 Readers both appreciate the macabre humor in the situation (as when Alfred comments "Pore little gal! She hadn't ought to have did it!" [329]) as well as the sense of how their own belief in horrific captivity narratives can lead to a similarly truncated conclusion. Like Alfred, White warns that we readers should not believe everything that we hear about captivity, or we too may reach a rash decision with similarly self-defeating consequences. We could dismiss such an ending and its ironic play with the conventions of captivity as simply White's need to fulfill a conventional need of the short story form or his desire to distinguish this story from other similarly-focused stories (and thereby gain publication through this alternative formulation). But to do so we would deny the intricacy of his construction and its potential effects to redefine readers' expectations about captivity narratives. Yes, White uses irony here, but not just for formal reasons. He clearly intends to effect revisions to readers perspectives on captivity. James Willard Schultz Beginning in the 1890s and continuing into the 1940s, James Willard Schultzs revisionist contributions consistently endorse Native peoples and life ways. As part of this agenda, he also rearticulates conventional captivity images. Given the length of his commitment to this argument, and the stature of his authorship, we can argue that his revisionism helps determine of the debate at this time and for a large number of readers. Finally, the length of his commitment and its popularity indicate a high degree of audience acceptance of those positions. Warren Hannas biography of Schultz (1986) provides invaluable information for estimating Schultzs literary presence, and correspondingly the extent of his revisionist arguments. For example, we discover that Schultz produces two or three books annually for Houghton Mifflin between 1912 and 1947, the year of his death. Houghton Mifflin

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51 continues to exercise exclusive control over Schultzs works for years after his death. After that contractual agreement expires, several other publishing houses reissue versions of My Life as an Indian and other of his works. Overall, Hanna estimates that more than two million Schultz books have been published (261). Add to this the constant presence of his serialized pieces (such as Red Crows Brother, The American Boy October/November 1927)most of which later became booksand we begin to see the phenomenal presence Schultz and his work command for roughly the first half of the Twentieth Century. In his autobiographical My Life as an Indian (1906, 1924) 9 Schutlz includes a chapter devoted to the captivity narrative of an Arickaree woman, Is-sp-ah-ki (Crow Woman), which he represents in her own words. By giving her a voice (textually, her own; metaphorically, to her and other silenced captives ) and her own chapter in this collection, Schultz signals the importance of her narrative to his works explicit political renegotiation of stereotyped views of Native peoples. Moreover, he relates a captivity narrative that constantly challenges the conventional drive toward simplistic violence. Her narrative reveals that her Absaroke captor pities her enough to allow her to bury her husband, who he died in their defense. Moreover, her captor does not take her husbands scalp because of her pleas. He takes her to be a slave for his six wives who constantly abuse her. When he confronts them for their actions, they try to kill Is-sp-ah-ki. As a result, she accompanies him everywhere. On a raid, the warriors leave Is-sp-ah-ki and another Crow woman to tend the camp, never to return. Is-sp-ah-ki deduces that they have been killed and that she and her companion must try to reach her 9 This book first appears in Forest and Stream magazine under the title Lodges of the Blackfeet in 1906 and 1907.

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52 people. She manages their journey until they are captured by Bloods. Her captor, Deaf-Man, proves to be a kind husband and she is happy as his wife. Later, one of Is-sp-ah-kis companions convinces Deaf-Man to let her live with her, where she has remained into her old age. As this narrative reveals, not all captivity narratives follow conventional plot lines that depict captivity as simply negative. 10 Perhaps his most concerted effort comes in the next decade with his Bird Woman (Sacajawea), The Guide of Lewis and Clark. Her Own Story Now First Given to the World By James Willard Schultz (1918). Repeatedly throughout Bird Woman Schultz argues that his version of Sacajaweas tale will counter the prevailing misconceptions of her role in the Lewis and Clark expedition. For example, he details her many names as part of his larger agenda to argue that readers need to understand the ways in which ethnocentrism obscures the realities of Native American identity and cultures. He then focuses on her captivity narrative in great detail to emphasize this point. By so doing, Schultz maximizes her narratives revisionist potential to advance his larger agenda of reeducating a public wholly ignorant of such intricacies. He seeks to capitalize on his authority as an acclaimed author to further support this campaign. He had acquired this authority through his earlier works, which include a series profiling his adventures among the Blackfeet peoples. The first in this series, With the Indians in the Rockies (1911), features Ah-ta-to-yis (Thomas Foxs) experiences among the Blackfeet people, who constantly emerge as human beings not savages. Here, he does not mention captivity at all, instead devoting many pages to detailed instructions about winter survival 10 In another story, a Blackfoot-speaking Kutenai shares his Story of the Fish-Eaters with Schultz and Nt-ah-ki, a romantic captivity story (121-33). In another story, while raiding a Piegan camp, Crows mercilessly slaughter any they can reach instead of taking captives (195). Taken in conjunction with his narrative of Is-sp-ah-kis captivity, these stories represent Schultzs attempt to reformulate captivity and its conventions to promote Native identity and alternative captivity traditions.

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53 as the Blackfeet would practice it. However, in one of the next installments of Ah-ta-to-yi and Pitamakans adventures, With the Indians in the Rockies (1913), captivity figures prominently as the pair discover that stereotypes about captivity by other tribes do not hold. One of his most radical revisions occurs in On the Warpath (1914), another installment of young Ah-ta-to-yis (The Foxs) adventures among the Blackfeet. There, Schultz introduces captivity in a variety of situations, all of which emphasize the shortcomings of negative constructions of captivity when compared to the realities of captivity experiences. As outspoken as these works are, Schultzs magazine work is just as outspoken. Much of this work proceeds his longer pieces (1890-1900), providing a comparison as well for Remingtons work from this same time. Moreover, these shorter magazine stories would also increase the audience exposed to his revisionist agenda--either by diversifying his readership or increasing it given the stories size and ready availability in a wide variety of venues. Finally, given the earlier dates of these shorter pieces, we could argue that their popularity (with their revisionist arguments about captivity) provide the necessary basis for the larger works. That these stories sell and are popular informs contemporary reception to revisionist arguments. 11 In fact, several of these stories reappear in anthologies of his works over the next decades. For example, Forest and Streams editor Grinell incorporated many of these tales [that he had published in the magazine] into Schultzs book Blackfeet Lodge Tales (Silliman viii). Two stories illustrate the range of his revisionism. In A War Party (1890), Schultz interweaves accounts of a Blackfoot war party with aspects of traditional 11 Elsewhere, other authors are performing similar revisions and representations of captivity to mass audiences, as in George Bird Grinnells Blackfoot Indian Stories (1913). The major difference in their strategies, though, is that Schultz audience is diverse, while Grinnells audience is more specific.

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54 Blackfoot tales about persons being held captive by people living underwater. 12 In doing so, he offers the explanatory matrix ending the traditional tales: that this captivity explains Blackfoot traditions of offering gifts to such underwater beings before crossing bodies of water (compare Schultzs version with accounts in Wissler and Duvall.). In this respect he is communicating to his audiences a traditional, Native American perspective on captivity as well as one aspect of Native American captivity narrative traditions. Another remarkable use of captivity employs fiction to advance his revisionist perspective. Schultzs To Old Mexico (1900) revises conventional captivity expectations by having Spai-yu, a Mexican character adopted by the Blackfoot, mount a revenge raid against his own brother for past injustices. 13 As these two examples illustrate, Schultzs magazine work offers a variety of rearticulations of captivity, which help revise conventional rhetoric of captivity and Native identity. At this point, readers may consider that revisionism is the exclusive purview of Western authors. However, other authors working in other genres and media are using captivity to revise its conventional context. For example, O. Henry's famous short story "The Ransom of Red Chief" (1907) explicitly and implicitly redefines captivity. O. Henry uses an alternative version of captivity to dramatize Red Chiefs excess--a product of sensationalized and negative constructions. As O. Henry formulators the story, Red Chief cannot decode this rhetoric; in the process of revealing this fact, O Henry also cautions his readers against such rhetoric and its debilitating effects. Finally, the popularity of this short story, with its invitation to reconsider captivity, has kept its 12 Originally published in Field and Stream June 19, 1890 under the pseudonym A. B. Anderson, then collected and published in an anthology in 1907 under the same pseudonym. 13 Originally published in the Great Falls Tribune (March 4, 1900).

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55 revisionary potential before readers for almost a century now proving the viability of revisionist positions for large audiences. At the same time revisionist authors like OHenry, White, Remington, and Schultz question the basis for conventional representations of captivity and Native identity, other authors work to silence any such reformative voices. A poster for Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show illustrates this drive by prominently displaying a scene from The Summit Springs Rescue (1907) in which a knife-wielding Native woman threatens a bound white female captive (presumably Maria Weichel) as another Anglo woman and child (presumably Susanna Alderdice and her infant) struggle on the ground. 14 Riding to her rescue is the cavalry, led by Buffalo Bill. The troupes daily performance of this scene continues to enact its reductive rhetoric, reinforcing through repetition its negative formulations: savages who will take and pollute and/or kill white women; strong male rescuers who arrive to reinstate the stolen women into their original theater of exchange. 15 Audiences observe both the static image and the live performance, collapsing and reinforcing its iconography in ways that cause each to underscore the others representation of Native Americans as essentially savage and captivity as one of the most explicit expressions of their murderous excess. Similarly, famed Western artist Charles Schreyvogel unveils his large canvas painting of this image the next year, as The Summit Springs Rescue--1869 (1908), adding a degree of high-art validation to the scene, its enactors, and the iconography. Finally, the Vitagraph short Terrible Ted (1907) invokes captivity as part of a juvenile fantasy of power relations, which ultimately reinforces the stereotypical representation of captivity-as-conflict. 14 Thomas W. Knowles and Joe R. Lansdale 62-63. 15 Slotkins arguments about this aspect of captivity narratives rings true. Cf. particularly 467 and 361-62 in Gunfighter Nation

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56 Honor Willsie Morrows The Heart of the Desert 1912 While such forces muster for conventional ideologies, other voices join the call for revision. One such group that successfully opposes the conventions codes are those women authoring formula Westerns at this time. As Yates represents the state of early-twentieth century formula Westerns by women, a handful of female authors deserve wider recognition for the ways in which they engage and expand the confines of formula Westerns. 16 Among this list of authors, Yates argues that Honor Willsie Morrow merits reconsideration because of the ways her Western novels broadened the subject matter of the formula to include womans search for religious faith and her right to participate actively in politics. She also pioneered on another frontier when she became one of the first formula writers of either gender to offer as a happy ending the marriage of a white heroine to a Native American hero (101). This latter point refers to Morrows novel The Heart of the Desert (1912) in which the Native American hero Charles Cartwell, whose Mescalero name is Kut-le, rescues the white heroine Rhoda Tuttle from the deterioration and degradation of her existence in white society, manifest in her relationship with John DeWitt. In performing this rescue, Kut-le invokes the terms of captivity; by having him do so, Morrow invokes those same terms only to revise them as a commentary on the state of contemporary gender and racial politics. Morrow constantly has Kut-le vow to "give up [his] race for" Rhoda, if she will only marry him. However, only after he takes her captive does she realize the full potential of his identity and potential loss. And at this point the two characters 16 Similarly, Elizabeth Ammons argues that Many white women writers tried to divorce themselves from the tradition of the domestic novelist that, with few exceptions (in their view), contained and trivialized women fiction writers in the United States for most of the nineteenth century (121-22).

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57 extricate themselves from their racial identities and unite romantically in spite of "the old sense of race distaste" that precludes their interracial relationship (48). Specifically, Morrow has Kut-le take Rhoda captive as the means whereby to restore her health and allow her the opportunity to realize her own self; in doing so, Morrow extends and expands the revisionist possibilities of gender politics that Yates correctly identifies as driving much of this novels purpose. For Yates, Morrow alters the standard romance plot driving most formula Westerns to emphasize the possibilities Rhoda, and by extension all women, have for altering similar roles. However, Yates misses the centrality of captivity and its revision to Morrows innovation. In other words, Morrow uses captivity to redefine both the formula Western and the possibilities of captivity for female captives, not the other way around. To do so, Morrow casts Rhoda as first a frail invalid that by novels end has transformed herself and the primary males in her life into capable beings. Rhoda has even saved these mens lives, thereby reversing her original state and indicating the possibility for similar transformations and capabilities for readers. And the vehicle for this realization is a revisionist definition of captivity. Morrow has Kut-le define his act of salvation as theft, Indian-style: "As a white man I can no longer pester you. As an Indian I can steal you and marry you . That's just what I'm going to do! . If I steal as a white would steal. I would be caught at once. If I use Apache methods, no white on earth can catch me" (50). As Rhoda is abducted, Morrow invokes standard rhetoric of sensationalized captivity narratives: "Utterly helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse than death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of her

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58 reason" (54). From this initial invocation, Morrow develops their relationship from antagonism to adoration so that by novel's end they are deeply in love and mutually respectful of each other's positions. Morrow has them literally ride off into the sunset together. Again, this romance of self-realization depends upon a revisionist notion of captivity. Later authors like Zane Grey and Madeline Baker use this plot line, again with a central emphasis on redefined/ing captivity and Native identitythereby proving how central this strategy is to revisionists. Elsewhere at this time, other authors also advance positive images of Native characters. Some do so directly through revised captivity images, others by avoiding issue of captivity altogether. For example, Gwendolen Overtons The Heritage of Unrest (1901) reveals the prejudices against Felipas mixed racial heritage before having her succumb to racial intolerance at the novels end. Marah Ellis Ryans Indian Love Letters (1907) presents a series of love letters written by a dying Hopi educated in the East to the white woman he met and fell in love with there; ends with the Hopi woman attending him as she writes her wrath to this white woman. B. M. Bower's Good Indian (1912) plays on the common saying that The only good Indian is a dead Indian from its introduction of Grant Imsen (8-9) by exploring the effects of education and acculturation on him. Identity issues abound until the novel's end when Imsen rescues Phoebe and they unite in a romantic union. Captivity does not occur here, but a positive endorsement of the possible relations between a red man and white woman does. Similarly, Honor Willsies Lydia of the Pines (1917) represents the depredations that Native peoples suffer under assimilationist policies. Her attack and indictment of such policies remain constant throughout this book, ending with a call for a revised patriotismone which

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59 acknowledges these assimilationist evils and which strives to institute new policies which will maintain Native sovereignty. While these women challenge the larger conventions reducing captivity and Native identity to expressions of violence, other authors are adding their voices to the call for revision. One of the most highly recognized authors engaged in revision through formula Westerns at this time is Zane Grey. Zane Grey Perhaps best known for his Riders of the Purple Sage (1912), Zane Grey has been continually examined by critics and audiences for his formulations of Western iconography. However, most critics have ignored his reformulations of captivity, which begin with his first novels and continue to his last. When they do discuss his uses of captivity, they almost exclusively confine themselves to his conventional uses, as in Riders 17 To this seminal work, critics can add other Grey titles like The Light of Western Stars (1914), The Lone Star Ranger (1914), and The Border Legion (1916)--all of which constantly rely upon the conventions of captivity narratives, primarily the convention of the strong white protagonist rescuing the white female captive/love-interest from a menacing, Dark Other. Such images reference contemporary uses of conventional rhetoric like that in the movies The Indian Scout's Revenge (1910) and Captured by Mexicans (1914) which cast Hispano Americans as captors whose brutality exceeds that of Native captors. Similarly, Edgar Rice Burroughs' The Cave Girl (1913) represents a white female captive (Nadara) 17 Lee Mitchell, for example, argues that: If the persistence of the captivity plot suggests that Americans have from the beginning felt insecure in their cultural identity, Riders of the Purple Sage marks nonetheless a special moment in the history of that narrative form, appearing at a moment of particularly acute anxiety about American culture that the novel itself helped to form ( Westerns p.136).

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60 rescued literally and figuratively by the protagonist (Waldo/Thandar) from savage Otherness, with both characters achieving the predictable romantic fulfillment as rich, recognized figures in a hierarchical class order to which they are restored. However, Grey modifies this variation in subsequent novels like Code of the West (1923) and Lost Pueblo (1927), where the white protagonist kidnaps his love interest and subsequently marries her in a form of romantic captivity much more consistent with historical romances. However, to generalize in this way, we ignore Greys implicit and explicit uses of captivity to revise these conventions. Despite this trend toward conventional uses of captivity, Grey also performs some amazing revisions to this convention in a number of works. These examples are almost equal in number to those of his conventional uses. For example, he orchestrates his revisionist impulses within conventional contexts in works like Desert Gold (1913) 18 --a strategy similar to Morrows above. There, Grey assigns these conventional roles to Mercedes, Rojasa, and Thorne (and Gale). But in doing so, Grey also introduces a dedicated Yaqui helper to Gale, whose desert survival skills prove invaluable to the party's successful rescue of Mercedes. Grey could have let this anonymous character remain as the stereotypical Indian helper so prominent in fiction, but Grey appends additional aspects to this figure that inform his revisionist impulses. In doing so, he uses the apparent shallowness of this character to advance deep political issues. He can then use this character as a vehicle for indicting the racial extermination of the Yaqui people then underway by the Mexican national government. In exposing this governmental practice, he offers readers a revised image of captivity with the intent of ending this 18 Desert Gold is first serialized in The Popular Magazine, 1 April, 15 April, 1 May, 1913; and republished in Zane Grey Western Magazine December 1948).

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61 practice. Moreover, by setting this novel in the present, he redefines captivity as a contemporary act, not an historical footnote. Grey is unrelenting in his indictment in two places: when he first introduces Yaqui and when he has Gale realize that racial identity is completely ambiguous. Grey offers an extended passage in this first instance which politicizes Yaqui's situation in terms that revise conventional representations of captivity (see epigraph above, 133-34). This direct indictment prevents this novel from simply casting Yaqui into the same role that Chingachgook occupies in The Last of the Mohicans It informs readers as to a current and real genocide occurring across the border. Furthermore, Grey's language specifically defines this situation as one of captivity, thereby revising standard rhetoric which casts red captors and white captives, Here, the situation is complicated and requires readers to confront their standard expectations about captivity. Grey then continues the effects of this rhetoric when he has Gale realize that he and Yaqui are equivalent, despite any apparent racial differences. Yet Gale was reminded of the Indian's story. His home had been desolated, his people carried off into slavery, his wife and children separated from him to die. What had life meant to the Yaqui? What had been in his heart? What was now in his mind? Gale could not answer these questions. But the difference between himself and Yaqui, which he had vaguely felt as that between savages and civilized men, faded out of his mind forever. (234) Again, Grey uses captivity, and its redefinition, as the vehicle for redefining racial identity. Gales epiphany results from Yaquis captivity narrative, and serves as a metaphor for readers to experience a similar realization. Published posthumously, Grey's "Yaqui" (1976) is another explicit indictment of the Mexican persecution of the Yaqui represented in terms of captivity. In this story

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62 Grey reveals in horrific detail how the Mexican government hunted and captured Yaquis as slaves. But he is unsparing in his images of the Yaquis' abuse by their Mexican captors. This brutality exceeds that attributed to Native peoples toward their captives, which analogy is central to Grey's agenda. He (re)defines the Yaqui's experience as captivity, thereby redefining captivity. Grey, therefore, uses captivity to argue against this persecution. As one of his last published works, Yaqui illustrates the depth of Greys commitment to revisionist programs. However, he begins this commitment at the beginning of his career. In his first published novel, Betty Zane (1903), Grey invokes captivity to modify a traditional romance plot and romance to modify a traditional captivity plot. Critics like Stephen May have adequately dealt with the historico-fictive aspects of this story (34-38), but have not examined Greys tentative uses of revisionist captivity images in this and his other Border novels. Here, for example, he has Issac and Myeerah engage in a protracted series of captivities that suggest alternative solutions to conventional captivities plots. This impulse comes to a head when Myeerah explains at length to Issac her motives for having him recaptured (92-94). This detailed scene illustrates Greys revision of captivity and identity. He replaces violence with romance as the motivation for Issacs captivity. He also defines Native society as more fluid than Anglo society in terms of racial diversity: Issac can become a Wyandot, while Myeerah cannot become white. He will develop this corollary, before finally concluding it (as many other romance authors will later this century) by having the couple achieve peace away from white settlement, the only place such an alternative can exist (as Castiglia would argue). Thus, Grey again invokes captivity as a means to

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63 achieve conventional romance, but he modifies it by having the Anglo male protagonist accept his identity as Other instead of abandoning a Native woman who dies from grief so that he can marry a white woman. Captivity, then becomes the catalyst for this couples realization of romance outside traditional boundariesa strategy echoed by many later romance authors using this same plot. After this revision, Grey offers another, which will become a standard for him--captivity by white renegades. Here, he has Betty almost captured by Miller for his own desires. But Betty thwarts his efforts, and in a telling rebuke redefines the language of captivity. She replies to Millers repeated offer, that Id be burned at the stake before Id take a step with you! (189). Clearly, she prefers death as a captive by red captors than life as a captive with her white captor. Grey intentionally magnifies the horrors of captivity by white captors through this language, and in the process rearticulates captivity at several levels. This formulation will become a mainstay for his work, combining the conventional reduction of renegades to subhuman status with the correspondent questioning of captivity-as-violence to foreground the rhetoric of captivity and race that problematize both categories. Greys next installment in the trilogy, The Spirit of the Border (1906), uses captivity in a far more conventional way than Betty Zane, even using it to justify religious conversion of Native peoples. His final installment, The Last Trail (1909), replaces Betty with Helen and Leggitt with Girty, but retains the essential plot of Spirit Conventional images abound, as the following examples show. While a captive to Brandt, Helen takes courage from the stories of the bordermens ability to rescue her (206-07). Later, Grey has Wetzel kill Case at the very moment that he was about to kiss

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64 Helen, as convention dictates (213). The novel ends with the bordermen having removed the threat of captivity by white renegades so that Progress can continue unhampered. In this sense, captivity is an impediment to that progress. In his subsequent novels, Greys continues to use captivity, but more often to revise the conventions that these early novels promote. As some of the above examples indicate, Grey actively revises conventions. For example, Grey's The Lone Star Ranger (1914) explicitly redefines captivity as relativistic and determined by political, rather than racial, categories. 19 Grey casts Jennie as a captive who endures captivity at least twice. In detailing these captivities, Grey expands the possibilities of conventional rhetoric and problematizes both that rhetoric and its agents. He does so by defining Jennie's status with Bland as "captivity," one which Duane vows to end. He has Euchre, Duane's friend, relate Jennie's narrative as an inspiration for Duane to act and rescue her from her captivity and himself from a future as an outlaw: He had been forced into outlawry; she had been stolen from her people and carried into captivity. They had met in the river fastness, he to instill hope into her despairing life, she to be the means, perhaps, of keeping him from sinking to the level of her captors. (93) Grey's rhetoric here is explicit: it equates the white traders who acquired Jennie with "captors" and her period with them as "captivity." Once again, Grey advances the idea that whites can and do capture other whites, and that the conditions that result are no different, and often worse, than the conditions that would result if the captors had been red. This strategy problematizes captivity as a consequence of race, and by doing so 19 According to Loren Grey, the editors at Harpers pasted the first half of The Last of the Duanes to the final installments of Th e Rangers of the Lone Star to create The Lone Star Ranger because they thought The Last of the Duanes was too violent ( Rangers of the Lone Star 11).

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65 argues for readers' awareness of the construction of captivity for negative political purposes. Grey does not simply end this revision here with Duane rescuing Jennie and restoring her to her original family. Instead, he brings them to the point of Duane returning her to that family before he has her endure "her second captivity" (135). He has Duane unsuccessfully rescue her from this captivity. Instead he has her pass into ambiguity, since Duane cannot learn with any certainty that she had died during her second captivity. In fact, he kills too quickly in the heat of his vengeance the man who could have proven her death. This inability for Duane to bring closure to Jennie's situation further emphasizes Grey's initial point that white captivity is equivalent to red captivity: Jennie disappears among her white captors as quickly and impossibly as she could have among red captors. Moreover, this plot resolution prevents Duane from being the omnipotent frontiersman who always manages to rescue the victim. In this way Grey rearticulates these conventions, thereby emphasizing their rhetorical function. In addition to this reformulation in the mid Teens, The Last of the Duanes appears throughout the remainder of the century in reprints. It switches formats, as when it is serialized in Argosy (September 1914) and in Zane Grey Western Magazine (October 1947), but retains the same (re)presentation of captivity that appeared in the original. These reiterations form a continuous dialogue upon captivity that encourages readers to question the conventions of standard captivity narratives. Moreover, this reprinting illustrates the way in which an initial rearticulation of captivity can continue to echo long after its original publication. As such, these reprintings continue the dialogue begun in

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66 the original and potentially reach new and wider audiences than the original had done when serialized, thereby expanding the audience receptive to revision of captivity. Moreover, this story appears in several movie versions over the next three decades, each time with one of that periods major stars playing the lead: 1919, with William Farnum; 1924, with Tom Mix; 1930 with George OBrien; and 1941, with George Montgomery. Each of these retellings invokes the originals revisionism, amplifying and augmenting its argument in tandem with the printed versions continuous (re)appearance. In this way, Greys argument remains before generations of audiences. Movies Kevin Brownlow argues that critics like Ralph and Natasha Friar ignore many contemporary movies when they claim that Hollywood created a homogenous body of anti-Indian movies in the early decades of this century (327-28). He further argues that, in marked contrast to the movies from the Thirties and Forties, many Silent Era movies offer historically and culturally accurate, as well as sentimental, portraits of Native cultures and peoples, a point echoed by William K. Everson. Unfortunately, as Brownlow notes, the full extent of that body of movies can never be known since most of these movies are either lost or incomplete due to deterioration and other forms of neglect. Numerous movies represent Native peoples in a positive light. Movies like Ramona (1910, 1916) and Hiawatha (1910) offer noble savagery, while movies like Song of The Mended Flute (1909) and The Wildwood Flute (1910), both directed by D. W. Griffith, respectively feature well-known Native actors Chief Dark Cloud and James Young Deer (who later becomes a director for Pathe Frres producing such movies as

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67 The Cheyenne Brave and Red Deers Devotion ) in conventionally sentimental portraits of Native identity. 20 20 The movie industry publications from this period reflect a general acceptance of Native peoples, as when contemporary media decry the inaccuracy and bigotry certain movies had foisted onto their viewers. For example, in 1911 a group of Indian delegates arrived in Washington and condemned producers with gross libel for racist movies (Brownlow 329). In that same year Moving Picture World editorialized that contemporary movies would counter past prejudices and misrepresentations: All of the more artistic Indian movies exalt the Indian, depict the noble trait in his character and challenge for him and his views and his manner of life the belated admiration of his white brother (Brownlow 330). The month before this editorial, Stephen Bush had decried the reductive aspects of conventional imagery in his Moving Picture Absurdities also published in Moving Picture World : The greatest of them all is the Indian. We have him in every variety but one. We have Indians la Franais, red men, recruited from the Bowery and upper West End Avenue. We have Licensed Indians and Independent Indiansthe only kind we lack are the real Indians. General Sherman said that there were no good Indians except dead ones. He had never seen the moving picture Indian. There is no medium of morality about him. He is either wholly good, seemingly transplanted from the skies, or else a fiend and an expert scalper in constant practice. Those who know him best describe the Indian as stoic and unemotional, but what a change when the red brother poses before the moving picture camera. He is as busy and talkative as the villain in the first two acts of the old-fashioned melodrama. You cannot escape the moving picture Indian. Recently I visited five moving picture houses in a Southern tour and five in a city in New England. The Indian was everywhere. The moviemakers tell us that the demand for this sort of thing is overwhelming. I studied the audiences in the theatres visited, while the Indians were doing their worst on screen, and noticed no feverish enthusiasm denoting approval. I sincerely believe they were tired of them, especially as the music with the picture is always the same. (Bush 60) This formulation of a qualified positivism and even Bushs sarcasm indicate an audience awareness of such movies as constructions. But we also hear contradictions to this positivism. For example, in 1911 Moving Picture World critic Louis Reeves Harrison argued that: The noble red man, who used to sell land that he never bought or paid for, drink the proceeds and then murder the purchaser in cold blood, is becoming immortalized (Brownlow 334). Earlier that same year, another editorial urges producers to use Real Indians to document the vestigial remains of their racial characteristics before they were erased through assimilation (Bataille 59). Four years later, Ernest Alfred Dench in his book Making the Movies (1915) argues that using such real Indians only excited their natural urges toward violence: It might be thought that this [movie work] would civilize them completely, but it has had a quite reverse effect, for they work afford them an opportunity to live their savage days over again, and they are not slow to take advantage of it injuring white actors and firing live ammunition (Dench 61). And a decade later, publicists for Thomas Inces movie company invoke a similar rhetoric to sensationalize their movies, only to be contradicted by Ince when he wrote that Arousing their [Indian actors] anger sufficiently to attack the enemy with any semblance of reality was one of the hardest things I ever had to tackle in my whole career in motion pictures. The years 1914 and 1915 demonstrate the competing forces defining Native peoples in movies. In these two years Buffalo Bill Cody finished his collaborative movie documenting what he claimed would represent the truth about the last decades of the Plains Wars to the Massacre at Wounded Knee. The movie, which appears under various names and in various edits, met with governmental suppression which, with the exception of one copy of the final reel, leads to its destruction (Brownlow 233-35). After its premiere, tribal spokesmen protest Cody's representation of Wounded Knee. The Cody movie enters an arena in which movie companies toss off factual movies like Life Among the Navahos Camping With the Blackfeet and The New Red Man (Brownlow 243). However, other companies dedicate themselves to making positive movies about Native peoples, which meets with popular success, like Edward S. Curtis In

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68 Several movies from this period directly engage issues of past and present bigotry toward Native peoples, as does The Friendless Indian (1913). Moving Picture World (1913) summarizes the movies plot: Condemned to walk alone, a Red Man saves a life and is given only a nod for thanksafter all, he is Indian. Lone Star (1916) portrays the devastation enacted by assimilationist policies when its Native character returns from Eastern schools, having become a surgeon, to help his people only to become an outcast from them and the white society which had encouraged him. Such movies directly counter the sensationalism of movies like D. W. Griffiths The Battle at Elderbush Gulch (1913), in which hordes of dog-eating Indians besiege settlers, slaughtering men, women, and most graphically babies along the way--a scene duplicates in the movie's promotional poster. Griffiths productions at this time illustrate this tension between positive and negative representations of Native identity and captivity. Two years before he produces The Battle at Elderbush Gulch he had made Flaming Arrows The Last Drop of Water and Fighting Bloo d (1911), all of which capitalize on negative stereotyping of Native peoples and promote their extermination as an inevitable part of Manifest Destiny. However, he also had produced positive movies like The Mended Flute (1909) and A Pueblo Legend (1912). And he uses captivity in a revisionist sense in more than one movie, as in his The Indian Runner's Romance (1909) where a Native warrior must rescue his love from her white outlaw captors. He offers more radically revisionist arguments in The Redman's View (1909) when white invaders capture a Native woman, the Land of the Headhunters (1914). In 1915 Rodman Wanamaker releases his thirteen reel documentary on Native customs History of the American Indian which inspires the creation of Northwestern Movie Corporation, which produce Indian Life (1918) and Before the White Man Came (1920). Nurse Among the Tepees a 1920 public health documentary, exposes the ravages of trachoma among Arapaho children.

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69 whose lover attempts to rescue her, but is captured instead. When the pair faces death at the hands of their white captors, one of the whites rescues them by asserting their validity and prompting their freedom. In this respect Griffith resembles his contemporary Thomas H. Ince who produces revisionary movies like Custer's Last Raid (1912), more radically outspoken movies like The Invaders (1912), whose title says it all, and extremely outspoken movies like The Heart of the Indian (1912), in which whites massacre a Native village. But his legacy seems to depend on the conventional and sensational images of captivity that he creates. These men are not alone in their directorial uses of conventional images of captivity and Native identity. Famed director Raoul Walsh crafts the critically and popularly acclaimed movie The Conqueror (1917), a sentimental portrait of Sam Houstons (William Farnums) origins and love for Eliza Allen (Jewel Carmen), with a gratuitous scene of captivity. Cherokees (Eagle Shirt, Chief Birdhead, and Little Bear) capture Eliza as she searches for Houston, but soon release her when they recognize her identity and speed her on her way to the couples romantic fulfillment. While not revisionist in its impulse, this movie illustrates the ways in which Hollywood invokes conventions at this time for sensationalism and profit. Similarly, Geronimos Last Raid (1912) has a very negatively stereotypical Geronimo take two white lovers captive as part of his larger depredations. In the process, the pair of captives manages to escape, thereby reinforcing conventional roles of captivity: violent red captors, submissive white captives, and resourceful male captives/rescuers. At this same time, as we saw above, Morrow directly confronts and revises such conventional formulations in The Heart of the Desert (1912).

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70 Other movies from this period offer revisionist representations of captivity, such as Daniel Boone (1907) in which a Native woman helps Boone rescue his two daughters from their captors and The Redman and the Child (1908) which depicts a Native man rescuing a white child from white outlaw captors before finally taking the child away to live with him at the movies end. Ince also produces An Indians Bride (1909) in which Little Bear must rescue his white lover from Mexican captors before finally agreeing to assimilate in order to obtain her fathers blessings for their impending marriage. Tuska considers this a remarkable production, given the larger climate against miscegenation at this time ( American West 251). These movies obviously redefine reductive responses to captivity by offering alternatives to the standard representation--revisions which emphasize the humanity and compassion of these red captives and rescuers. However, much more characteristic of this period is the sentimentality and melodrama of White Fawns Devotion (1910). There, a white Englishman living with an anonymous tribal woman (White Fawn?) and their daughter in the wilds of the West, receives word that he has inherited a fortune and must return to England. Upon receiving this news, White Fawn chooses to commit suicide rather than leave her homeland or allow her daughter to leave. The daughter assumes that her anguished father committed murder and informs the local chieftain, who mounts a party to apprehend the murderer. A lengthy chase ensues, in which one stalwart warrior finally captures the man and drags him back to the camp. There, his captivity resonates with John Smiths, by having his bound form spread over a sacrificial rock. Then, the movie rearticulates these conventions by having the chief insist that daughter slay her father as justice. During his instructions, he continually cuffs her head forcing her to commit the crime. And in true

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71 tradition, White Fawn arrives just at the moment of his execution to explain her case and plead for his life (again reintroducing Pocahontas elements). The chief then informs the trio they must leave--to where we never know, but captivity conventions rush in and resolve everything. While these movies directly revise standard images of captivity and Native peoples, other movies from this same period engage captivity in ways that inform a corollary to these standards: the dark other as captor. As we have seen, and will continue to see, in these apparently standard representations, new definitions of captivity emerge which challenge previous ones. For example, Cecile B. DeMilles The Captive (1915, infamous for one of its actors dying from a stray bullet during filming) deals with European war. This ambiguous title both invokes previous standard definitions of captivity by Native Americans. By expanding the definition of captivity to other non-red peoples, the movie invites audiences to reconsider the constructedness of captivity. Finally, the context of captivity expands even further in contemporary rearticulations of captivity. Many critics have already documented the public interest in prostitution, white slavery, and their corollary with captivity that pervade the early decades of the twentieth century. 21 The sensational success of Traffic In Souls (1913) indicates the general publics interest in this constellation. We can gauge this interest by the fact that this dramatization of the John D. Rockefeller Report on prostitution grosses a half a million dollars before its close. This movies redefinitions of captivity invoke 21 Cf. particularly: Kevin Brownlows Behind the Mask ; Annette Kuhns Cinema, Censorship and Sexuality: 1909-1925 ; Eric Schaefers Bold! Daring! Shocking! True!: A History of Exploitation Movies, 1919-1959 ; Kay Sloans The Loud Silents: The Origins of the Social Protest Movie ; and Frank Thompsons Lost Movies: Important Movies That Disappeared

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72 captivity-as-context to emphasize both the relativity of the captors and the fact that captivity continues to occur at the present time. Comics Conventional images of captivity abound in comics at this time as well, though most often in a negative way. One example occurs in Frederick Opper's Alphonse and Gaston weekly strip (1903) which elides the differences between their captivity by African cannibals and captivity by Native Americans (Blackbeard 51). Such reduction informs the general perceptions of captivity and captors promoted by such images--a rhetorical strategy explicitly illustrated by the parallelism in scenes elsewhere, as in the infamous broadsheet of Mary Godfreys captivity (1836). Such conventional uses of captivity also occur in places where innovation and revision are hallmarks--Winsor McCays Little Nemo in Slumberland. In one installment of his widely popular strip (Sunday,7 January 1906), McCay uses standardized rhetoric to represent captivity, and in so doing collapses racial categories in ways that echo Opper and others He uses sensationalized images of Indians capturing a next door neighbor girl and menacing Nemo during her rescue. He even represents the Indians as a horde of simianesque caricatures whose features also reference contemporary negative images of African(American)s in a general devaluation of Otherness, before he has them riddle Nemo with arrows as he falls back into consciousness. No innovation here from an artist synonymous with the term, just reiteration of standard imagery, as he does throughout the strip when he references captivity. 22 As these examples reveal, revisionists are intensely engaged at many fronts in their strategy to rearticulate captivity and Native identity. 22 Other examples include his pages from: 2 June 1907, 30 August 1908, and 28 August 1910. Cf. Little Nemo, 1905-1914 : pp. 94, 159, and 263 respectively.

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73 Childrens Literature Current Context Thus far we have seen several childrens literature pieces enacting revisionist strategies. In particular we have profiled Ellis Wolf Ear (1900), Reids works, and OHenrys Ransom of Red Chief (1906). As these works reveal, childrens literature authors are as engaged with revisionism as are authors of adult literature and other genres. Another major author at this time enacting his form of revision is the Setons novel does not advance any significant revisionist agenda. However, like them, it does offer a graphematic gesture that confronts conventional imagery through its excessive construction of that convention. Ernest Thompson Setons Two Little Savages 1903 At the same time that Remington, White, and Schultz are advancing their revisionist agendas, Earnest Thompson Seton is creating his adventure books for children. Perhaps best known as the founder of the Boy Scouts of America, Seton also is a prolific author. One of his earliest books, Two Little Savages (1903), affords us the opportunity once again to see how childrens literature at this time is performing many of the same functions as adult literature and movie. Sam (Great Woodpecker) and Yan (Little Beaver) take to the woods to play Indians, or rather live as Indians. They have become enamored of Indian lifestyle from the books they have read, and so decide to enact their fantasy. The create their own tribe, the Sangers, and otherwise indulge their fantasies. When plagued by a neighbor boy, Guy, they capture him, then bind him to a torture pole (219-31). The chant that they will . .burn him at the stake with horrid torture! They conduct a protracted ceremony of torture, verbal rather than physical abuse, finally adopting him with the name Sappy. They will recount Sappys bravery

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74 while being tortured as a captive, before making him their new chief (439-40). Later, Yan leads a massacre of his own family--a raid of the pantry in which he mocks axing his baby sister Minnie. His mother watches the proceedings, then leaves him the following note: Notice to hostile Injuns--Next time you massacre this settlement, bring back the pail, and dont leave the covers off the milk pans (285). Captivity, to this point, has been a comical farce--an exaggerated fantasy conducted by boys playing Indian. Since captivity is no longer a real possibility, the boys can safely indulge in it as fantasy. Moreover, captivity lends further authenticity to their fantasy. However, fantasy becomes reality when the three-fingered tramp invades the boys camp, demanding food and beating them. Yan manages to escape this all too real captivity and, in turn, captures the tramp (484). They bind him to a tree, as they had Sappy and as real Indians would do their captives. However, their captive manages to slip his bonds. Arguably, their play-captivity serves them well when they need to enact a real captivity. Native American Literature Charles A. Eastman and Elaine Goodale Eastman While these Anglo authors and artists argue for revising the conventional rhetoric which denigrates Native peoples and relegates captivity to a simplistic act of violence, Native American authors are also actively producing revisionist works. For example, Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa) orchestrates his own strategic counters to racist representations of Native peoples and captivity, ostensibly within the contexts of childrens literature. As part of his larger agenda to promote interracial understanding between Native and Anglo peoples, Eastman writes Wigwam Evenings (1909). There,

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75 his narrator Smoky Day relates his version of Turtle's War Party, which draws heavily on this traditional story complexs use of captivity. In this version, Turtle organizes a war party composed of Live Coals, Ashes, the Bulrush, the Grasshopper, the Dragonfly, and the Pickerel. As they advanced bravely into the country of the enemy (36), each member of the party meets with an abrupt endingLive Coals extinguished by the river, Bulrush planted in the river mud, Grasshopper stuck in some mud and losing his legs in the process, Dragonfly so overcome with grief at Grasshoppers death that he diesuntil only Pickerel and Turtle are left alive. Each time that one of the party dies, the others make some disparaging remark about his inability as a warrior. Then as Pickerel and Turtle advance into the enemy territory, they are surrounded. Pickerel escapes by swimming away, but Turtle is captured because of his slowness. They took him to the village, and there the head men held a council to decide what should be done with him (36). As each council member proposes a new torture, Turtle responds by claiming That is the brave death I would choose! He then details how he would: trample the fire, and scatter the coals among the people if they were to roast him alive; dance in the boiling pit, and clouds of steam will arise and blind the eyes of the people. Finally, he escapes. The Eastmans contextualize the individual tales in this collection as allegories that reflect the high degree of morality maintained among traditional Lakota peoples, especially through such didactic devices. They weave a narrative verification of this claim by having their readers watch the ways in which his audience, even Teona and Waola, mature under the effects of the telling. Captivity, then becomes an integral portion of these characters' didactic experience. In this way the Eastmans simultaneously

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76 illustrate their claim for Lakota morality while countering claims that such Native American traditional tales and values are simply the manifestations of a savage or childlike culture. Moreover, they perform the same sort of didactic function on their Anglo readers by having them realize this mutuality. Captivity, then, serves to unite rather than divide people. Turtles War Party Traditions Turtles War Party reappears in many different tribes, but with much of the same plot and details as in Eastmans version. For example, the Omaha "How Big Turtle Went on the Warpath and Great-Turtle on the Warpath (Welsch 203-16, 128-38) are virtually identical. Elsewhere, it retains the same plot and characters, but then ends as an explanatory tale in the Lakota tale Turtle (Deloria 77-80) and the Seneca version (Parker 159-64). An Arapaho version combines these two functions with a twist by having Turtle, Wart, Vulva, and Penis appear as the characters and then explain the function of sexual organs (Dorsey and Kroeber 486). An Iroquois version ends with Turtle's satisfaction with being a turtle (Bierhorst 31-36). From this brief survey, we can see how central this story is to both traditional Native narrative traditions, but also its centrality to Native captivity narrative traditions. This tradition adopts various forms, but essentially performs two main functions. First, these traditions perform didactic functions that encourage and instruct audiences in the ways to survive their own potential captivities (from resisting tortures to resourcefully planning their own escapes). Second, they provide models that necessarily represent the range of possible captivity experiences, thereby forestalling any reductive trend that might make captivity into a political tool justifying genocide.

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77 Examples abound. For example, PreContact captivity narratives and their representations occur in Moche art and the Popal Vuh 23 We can also see them in Sixteenth Century French Florida and Spanish Mexico (Laudonnire, 76-77, 85-86 and Clendinnen). In more recent accounts, we find a half dozen different symbols of captivity from a wide range of tribes including Ogllalas and Aztecs (Mallery 598-600); Nineteenth Century Blackfoot and Sacree painted robes represent narrate captivity (e.g. Running Rabbits robe and Calf Childs accounts in Brownstone 46-49, 67); Flying Hawks winter count designating the year 1843 as Wikaya aklipi When they brought in captives (McCreight 167). Elsewhere, we find examples of traditional captivity practices and its narratives in James Mooneys accounts of Seneca captives among the Cherokee (351-62) and the Omaha tale "Forty Warriors" (Welsch 186-90). The complexities of interracial captivity appear in Lucas Vsquez de Ayollns attempts to found a colony along the Pee Dee River in eastern South Carolina in 1526 (Katz 22-23). In short, countless examples exist detailing and proving the existence of continuous and varied captivity narrative traditions among Native peoples for several centuries. 24 Authors like Eastman, Hum-ishu-ma, Silko and Welch draw on these to amplify their (re)tellings of that tradition. Geronimo Similar sorts of revisionist arguments about captivity and identity appear in Geronimos as-told-to biography (1906). There, S. M. Barrett provides extensive accounts of traditional Apache perspectives on captivity. In the process, readers realize a 23 See Tedlock pp. 170 and 182 for visual representations and pp. 136-38 for verbal descriptions of Hunaphpas capture and sacrifice of Xbalanque. 24 Here, I briefly recount my research about this tradition, which I am currently submitting for publication under the title Native American Captivity Narrative Traditions and the Case for Revising Canons.

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78 Geronimo who is very human, and an Apache people who are equally so. This revision occurs primarily through images of captivity. For example, Geronimo contrasts the treatment of Apache captives by Mexican captors and Mexican captives by Apache captors: We never chained our prisoners or kept them in confinement [as the Mexicans had done], but they seldom got away. Mexican men when captured were compelled to cut wood and herd horses. Mexican women and children were treated as our own people (67-68). He also includes stories of Apache women rescuing themselves from their Mexican captors, a point to which we shall return in the next chapter. In short, Barrett and Geronimo uses captivity to revise conventional reductions of captivity and Native identity--particularly captivity by Apaches and Apache identity, since these are the savage extremes of both. Current Context With similar revisionist agendas, E. Pauline Johnsons fictional pieces advance revisionist images of Native identity. As It Was in the Beginning (1913) unrelentingly and intentionally confronts contemporary prejudice against Native peoples. Given her wide publication and celebrity (particularly in Canada and Great Britain) during her lifetime, Johnson obviously intends such fictional pieces to radically revise images of Native peoples, and, in this case, revise perspectives on Indian Boarding Schools, just as Louise Erdrich will do so pointedly in her poetry later--redefining them as places of captivity not of capability. At this same time Hum-ishu-ma finishes Cogewa (1927) in 1914 with the intent of altering popular misperceptions of Native peoples. As we shall see in the next chapter, captivity is central to that novels agenda. Since it is not published until the next decade, we will suspend our discussion of it until then.

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79 This survey indicates the ways in which these works extend the possibilities of positive Native American identity and interracial community through their revisionist uses of captivity. Add to this works by authors like Remington, White, and Grey, as we have seen, and we begin to see how the origin of Western fiction is inextricably bound to rearticulating captivity for revisionist purposes. As we shall see in the next chapter, this revisionary aspect drives much of the forms and functions of other media and genres as well.

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CHAPTER 3 THE TWENTIES Good! It is even better than I could have believed. In my wildest dreams I never hoped to see a white man suffer such unmerited torture. In time, perhaps, you will come to a degree of sympathy for an Indian, and to understand, a little, his feeling toward the white race. --Harold Bell Wright, The Mine with the Iron Door Had it been a matter only of trusting herself to him alone, perhaps she would not have hesitated; but there were the other members of his tribe--the squaws. She had heard stories of the cruelties of the squaws toward white women--and Geronimo! She recalled every hideous atrocity that had ever been laid at the door of this terrible old man, and she shrank from the thought of permitting herself to be taken to his hidden den and delivered into his cruel and bloody hands. . I know why you afraid, said Shoz-Dijiji presently. You hear bad stories about Apaches. You hear much talk, bad talk; but always from mouths of enemies of Apache. You wait. You see how Apache treat friend. You no be afraid. You savvy? --Edgar Rice Burroughs, The War Chief Unlike movies from this period, fiction from the Twenties offers a constant and consistent level of revisionist argument. Many authors promote revisionist positions, despite stiff opposition from editorial policies that severely limit such positions. Some, like Max Brand, offer extended series of novels arguing for revisions of Native identity and captivity. Others, like Oliver LaFarge, offer single arguments. Regardless of the amount each author offers, together they offer a concerted strategy that supports itself from these authors popular stature and the wide availability of their works. However, all of these authors must work against institutionalized policies of racism and popularized media like movies that promote conventional definitions of Native identity and captivity. 80

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81 Fiction Stewart Edward White's Daniel Boone: Wilderness Scout 1921 One example of revisionist captivity rhetoric from early in this decade occurs in a seemingly unlikely place, Stewart Edward White's biography Daniel Boone: Wilderness Scout (1921). Now, at one level, this revisionism may not seem so unlikely, given that White had written "The Girl Who Got Rattled" (1904) almost two decades before. But, at other levels, White's extensive and explicit endorsement of Native peoples, given Boone's experiences with captivity, indicates the depth of his revisionist agenda. In this biography, White offers numerous pages arguing for the humanity of Native peoples. He argues that the historical record often reflects the political agendas of imperialist image makers, rather than the actual circumstances, as seen in the treatment of captives by both whites and reds (e.g. 75-79). In these pages, white captors are as equally cruel to red captives as red captors are to white captives. By specifically exploring the reality behind the myths of captivity, White uses captivity as a means to revise readers' images of Native peoples from ignoble and noble savages to people. Given that he originally wrote this book for the Boy Scouts of America, arguably White intends to modify the opinions of both his contemporary child audience (specifically those male youths whose identity as Scouts derived much from Boone's iconoclastic image as progressive pioneer) and of future generations as his audience matures into adulthood and is replaced by the next. Additionally, because the book is reprinted over the next decades for audiences outside the Scouts, other audiences and publishers accept and promote White's revisionist philosophy for decades after his original reformulation. This particular reissue coincides with the height of the Davy Crockett craze initiated by Disney (in this particular case in 1957, a year after the craze

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82 began). As critics like Lafaro argue, the conflation of these two frontiersmen indicates the power of the media to shape audiences but also provides added impetus for audiences to explore revisionist venues like Whites biography. Finally, this book currently exists on library shelves, indicating that Whites work still exerts its revisionary potential today. Hamlin Garlands The Book of the Indian 1923 At roughly this same time, celebrated Native rights activist Hamlin Garland is publishing his final formulation of his reformist agenda. Garland uses captivity as a metaphor throughout his The Book of the Indian This strategy allows us to explore his Indian Rights fiction in terms other than the binaries established by William Meyers and Owen Reamers faulting Garlands Indian fiction for its substantial lack of ethnographic and biographical authenticity and its ultimate lack of formal aesthetics. 1 Such a position extends the reorientation argued by Jack Davis about Garlands questioning the impact of acculturation to Native peoples. Moreover, by seeing how Garland uses a revisionist position on captivity and Native identity issues, we come to realize how central this work is to his overall agenda of reforming Anglo/Native relations. Since many critics have previously examined in detail the genealogy of Garlands texts on Native issues, I will only briefly sketch it here. Garlands shift from a Western progressive ideology to one that was more critical of that imperialism arises from his tours of Western tribal lands and reservations in 1890. From this exposure Garland quickly inaugurates a campaign to reform what he perceives as the reservation systems 1 Reamer perpetuates this prejudice when he argues that Perhaps because Garland saw the plight of Indians in the 1890s, while he was still in the first flush of enthusiasm as a reformer, he identified their cause with that of other downtrodden folk. If nothing else, he considered them a part of the glorious early days on the frontier, the passing of which he was already coming to regret. If he could help his red brother in any way, he would. If not, he could plead the red mans cause by enshrining him in fiction as he then was, for future generations to contemplate (285).

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83 primary abuses, formalized in his article The Red Mans Present Needs and fictionalized in his The Captain of the Grey Horse Troop both of which appear in 1902. These two pieces mark the apex of public reception for his works aimed at reforming reservation abuses. 2 But this year marks the point at which his potential effectiveness as a political reformer in Washington, a role encouraged by then President Teddy Roosevelt, is at its highest. However, Garland soon plummets from this height, toppled by the bureaucratic neglect and dismissal his policy changes encounter. Within a few years his texts aimed at reforming reservation abuses vanish from these internal Washington circles, circles with negative attitudes echoing Senators Brisbanes condemnation scene from The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop : Human beings! sneered Brisbane they are nothing but a greasy lot of verminworthless from every point of view. Their rights cant stand in the way of civilization (126). To counter such bigotry, Garland writes several pieces representing the humanity of his Native subjects as well as more formal attacks like The Red Mans Present Needs (1902). In A Daughter of the Middle Border he declares We have had plenty of the wily redskin kind of thing and so he would author its counter. From this basis Garland envisions a larger revisionist project, which eventually becomes The Book of the American Indian but at present his focus is on the immediate body of works countering those conventions. 2 Before this time, he had contributed several shorter pieces like The Eagles Heart ( Saturday Evening Post 8 September 1900). He continues to contribute pieces even after publication of The Book of the American Indian like Drifting Crane ( Argosy January 1930).

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84 His editorial friends fault them for their overly sympathetic portrayal of Native peoples. For example, Meyer notes that initially The Silent Eaters fails to be published because of a lack of public interest in Indian material and its length (309). This same lack of interest keeps it from being published until Harpers anthologizes it along with some previously published pieces, but their packaging illustrates how two decades later publishers still did not view Garlands reformative position as economically viable. Such a position does not coincide with more dominant modes of reconstructing a Western experience in which Natives are reducible to neat categories of savagerywhether noble or ignoble. In his reconstructed remarks, Garland replies to such detractors with an explicit statement of his reformative intent: My stories take the cruelty and dirt and sloth of camp life for grantedsuch facts have been sufficiently dwelt upon. I have drawn the tender and humorous side of their lives as well as the patiently heroic side ( Companions on the Trail 48). 1902 also marks the year in which Garland formally plans, according to his notebooks, to publish A Book of Indian Tales, that will become The Book of the American Indian (Reamer 302). The Book of the American Indian collects pieces previously published (e.g. The Story of Howling Wolf [1903]) as well as his longer unpublished project (The Silent Eaters). Together these pieces represent a formalized statement of his reformist views, though by the time of their publication as The Book of the Indian he has become a minor voice in reformist issues. Yet this final statement of his views provides major rearticulations of conventional images. Finally, it represents Garlands unwavering belief in the ability of his writings to cause audiences to precipitate reform of current relations between Anglo and Native Americans.

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85 However, when he seeks a publisher, he finds steady opposition to his project. Somehow, he manages to sell the project to Harpers, and the book finally appears almost two decades after its initial creation. When it does, he explicitly objects to the publishers choice of Frederick Remington illustrations, because he views them as perpetuating the stereotypes that he intends his verbal texts to counter (cf. Reamer 289). Remingtons other visual representations of captivity (e.g. Captured ,1899) support Garlands objections, as we have seen above. Despite Garlands objections, Harpers decides to include Remingtons work, though twenty or thirty years old, as a means to increase sales of Garlands book. This editorial move illustrates the general marginalization that Garland has encountered for his project from its beginning. From this and other obstacles that he, Burroughs, Brand, and Hum-ishu-ma face, we can characterize this period as one of opposition to such reformative works. Despite these conventional codings, Garland succeeds in communicating his message. To do so, he highlights the revisionist impulse of The Book of the American Indian through literal and figurative images of captivity. Garland deploys captivity not as an act distinguishing good Indians from bad ones, but as an act distinguishing traditional tribal perspectives from dominating governmental ones. In The Book of the American Indian the U.S. government is the one who captures, in the name of formally instituted assimilationist policies. By so characterizing the government, its policies, and those made to suffer under them as captors, captivity, and captives respectively, Garland actively reinvents these notions of captivity to indict those policies and the government that institutes them. He also represents traditional perspectives on captivity as part of his larger agenda to recontextualize Native peoples and their cultures as legitimate without

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86 Anglo American authorization. To do so, he chooses as his vehicle a series of short stories, which together present a continuous message of revisionism. He launches this strategy from the opening line of Nitsina: There was lamentation on the lodges of Sunmakers people, for the white soldiers had taken away the guns of Hawks young warriors, and now they were to be sent away into lands of captivity (15). He echoes this rhetoric when he describes their departure: and the hopeless captives moved slowly out across the prairie (16). Garland heightens the sympathy of his readers for these captives by having Nitsina learn to write so that she can communicate her love and fidelity to Hawk, who, along with the other warriors, is being held captive in Florida. Such formulations equate reservation life with captivity, an ongoing state from which the captives have no hope of rescue--except through revising popular opinion. Garland returns to this revisionist rhetoric later in The Silent Eaters There, Chapter Six of this story explicitly equates reservation life with captivity through its title In Captivity (204-15). Garland continues recontextualizing Native peoples on reservations as captives in The Iron Khiva. There, he dramatizes the insensitive desire of Anglo Protestantism to obliterate Native (here, Pueblo) values in the name of progressive assimilation. This story ends with the tragic deaths of two youths appointed to go east, who kill themselves rather than face their captivity. Only at this point does the commander relinquish his desire to force the Pueblos to assimilate: these men of the East were planning to carry their children into captivity (31). The threat of such captivity empowers the Pueblo to oppose those policies: We were willing that our children should go down to the Iron Khivatil nownow when you threaten to steal them and carry them afar into captivity

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87 where we can never see them again, we rebel. We will fight! Of what value is life without children? (32). Despite their willingness to fight, the Pueblos here finally relinquish: In the morning we must take the lads to their captors (33). Garland has used captivity and the Pueblos reactions to it to underscore the relativity of conventional constructions of captivity. In keeping with his larger agenda, Garland represents traditional tribal perspectives on captivity as in the story of Old Suns Wife. He recounts the story of a female captive who takes her captivity literally into her own hands. When she was a mere maid, she was kidnapped by the Gros Ventres chief, whom she stabbed within sight of his village, thereby earning her the right to wear three eagle feathers and sufficiently elevating her value for Old Sun, who makes her his wife. To illustrate this story, the editors choose Remingtons illustration of a woman knifing her captor on horseback. This illustration originally appears in Harpers Magazine December 1891, for Chartering a Nation by Julian Ralph. This decision illustrates the earlier points Garland raised about the Remingtons. Elsewhere, Garland uses captivity to define a characters extreme kindness, and in so doing provides an image of red-on-red captivity. In The Remorse of Waumdisapa, he describes Waumdisapa in these terms: No one feared himnot even the children of the captive Ute woman who served Iapaand yet he had gained his preeminence by virtue of great deeds as well as by strong and peaceful thoughts (113-14). As these numerous examples illustrate, Garland creates intricate rearticulations of captivity conventions in The Book of the Indian He covers an extremely wide range of possibilities to highlight the narrow focus of conventional images and to effect a change

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88 in the determination such a focus exercises. He intends to broaden the perspectives of audiences on captivity and Native peoples, thereby correcting prior misperceptions and facilitating future relations. Although Garland will continue to argue for reform and author numerous works, like Prairie Song and Western Story (1928), he will not author any significant pieces like The Book of the Indian again. Given the extremes that Garland faces in realizing its publication, this collection represents a defiant voice opposing the reductivism instituted and institutionalized by publishers at this time. As such, it is a prominent rearticulation of those codes, not the minor, final note in a reformists range that many critics designate it as. Harold Bell Wrights The Mine with the Iron Door ,1923 In Mine with the Iron Door (1923), Harold Bell Wright ultimately uses conventional images of captivity and Native identity to endorse a Christian ethos. In the process, he performs other revisionary strategies that complicate such a neat reformulation. The result resembles other authors, like Morrow and Grey, who embed oppositional codes in an apparently conventional argument so that readers can revise their own positions relative to those conventions. Wright modifies the then-popular theme of birth-mystery plots and Indians who know the secret of lost mines through his deliberate use of stereotyped images of Native people and captivity to reveal their construction. Having performed this revisionist feat, he then recontextualizes his formulation within a Christian context--thereby arguing for the ultimate justification of those values. To do so, Wright first introduces Natachee as a devious retrograde who has rejected his Eastern education and plunged blindly back into his traditional lifestyleso much so that he alone inhabits the canyons away from his and white people. He tells Edwards, the white male protagonist, when they first meet: What I learned there [in the white mans

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89 school] made me return to the desert and the mountains to live as my fathers lived; and to die as my people must die (85). But Natachee will not go quietly into the night deemed fitting for other noble savages; instead, he will exact as much vengeance from the whites as possible before his passing. To emphasize his resistance, Wheeler creates Natachee as a supernatural savage whose taste for sadism terrifies most of the characters. Natachee constantly tortures the other characters literally and figuratively (the Indian watching with devilish cunning the effect of his words, 212). Edwards defines him as playing as a cat plays with the victim of its brutal and superior cunning (113). In so constructing his character, Wheeler intentionally invokes the sensationalized rhetoric of conventional captivity narratives. For example, Natachee admits that he enjoys Saint Jimmys company because he is suffering. He is dying slowly. He is in torment. I am Natachee the Indian, why should I not enjoy the company of any white man who is like Saint Jimmy or who can be made to suffer in any way? (189). Later he tells Marta that if I do not to-night treat you as my fathers treated the women of their enemies, it is not because I am kind (169). He has told Edwards that In my wildest dreams I never hoped to see a white man suffer such unmerited torture (202). Wheelers language here intentionally invokes images of white captives being tortured and raped by red captorssensationalized images common throughout stereotyped imagery of captivity. By recreating such images, he encodes Natachee as a primary expression of that rhetoric-a point he confirms by explicitly defining Edwards as Natachees captive: Often the captive would look up form his work to find the Indian only a few feet away, watching him (212). To emphasize this point Wheeler defines their time together as Edwards strange captivity (209).

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90 Here, Wheeler extends conventional captivity terms metaphorically. However, he then complicates the neat racial symmetry of stereotyped representations by having Natachee taken captive by Sonora Jack. Again, he designates this time as a captivtiy and Natachee as a captive, thereby rearticulating these conventional terms. Upon learning of Natachees capture, Edwards sets out to rescue him, resolving that that At any cost he, Hugh Edwards, must find the outlaws and their captive (237) and repay Natachee for his having saved his own life earlier. Given Natachees situation (bound for torture) and Wheelers use of the word captive when describing him, he obviously constructs this scene to reverse prior, stereotyped notions of captivity. But here he uses Christian charity to completely rewrite captivity as a conversion experience. Wheeler further manifests this contrast between Edwards and Natachees captivities by entitling their respective chapters The Way of a Red Man and The Way of a White Man. thereby directly juxtaposing it with the prior chapter. He underscores the differences between the two men and their motivations, again invoking racial identity as the determining factor for actions. This juxtaposition informs Wheelers design, as he uses captivity conventions against themselves to promote a Christian ethos. Natahcee abandons racial difference as his motive for captivity and embraces The Ways of God, as Wheeler entitles this chapter. Natachees excesses, and those of the sensationalized rhetoric he manifests, prove the possibilities of that ethos. thereby underscoring the possibility of revising prior stereotypes. Significantly, he advances this argument through the terms of captivityterms that have perpetuated racial hatred for centuries. Ultimately, Natachee and Edwards' captivities substantiate the power of religiously based compassion to modify and abolish the atrocities of literal and metaphorical captivity. In

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91 this sense, Wheeler uses captivity to modify conventions about captivity while advancing a Christian ethic, a unique use of captivity-as-conversion. In doing so, he has used captivity to define the excesses which people without Christian virtues can perform. Wheeler pointedly argues that such excesses, however, are no match to this Christian belief system. Zane Grey's The Vanishing American 1925 Zane Grey's The Vanishing American (1925) appears even more explicit and radical in its reformulation of readers' images of captivity than those of White and Wright (1923), almost all of his contemporaries (Zitkala Sa and Garland the most prominent exceptions), and even much of his own earlier work. 3 As such, this novel represents a remarkable standard by which to judge contemporaries, like Brand. Its acceptance and production as a major motion picture that same year further indicates the acceptance by audiences and producers of the messages Grey that argues. Yet, its very radical revisionism causes it to also be the center of a controversy that qualifies its positions in places. When the story first appears as a serial in the Ladies Home Journal (December 1922, March 1923), it causes some readers to raise such a vociferous outcry against its miscegenistic ending the publishers take action. In that version, Nophaie and Marian marry, achieving a romantic closure. Bold and Hamilton label this move extraordinarily 3 During this same year, Grey also releases the serial Desert Bound, later retitled as Captives of the Desert (1954). As in The Vanishing American, Grey targets the practices and abuses that victimize tribal peoples on reservations. He focuses primarily on the debilitating effects of alcoholism promoted by unscrupulous whites. Secondarily, he reveals the sexual abuse suffered by women like Magdaline, who also suffers from having been educated in Indian Schools (poignantly and pointedly so on 106-12). As revisionist as this novel is, it only nominally uses captivity to advance its objective. And when it specifically invokes the terms of captivity, it qualifies some of that endorsement. This qualification occurs in the second of two featured dance scenes (47-53, 260-63).

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92 uncharacteristic of both Grey and the formula in which he is working. 4 However, Tuska notes that as a consequence of this outcry, Curtis Publications (which owns both Ladies Home Journal and The Saturday Evening Post ) imposes an editorial ban on positive Native characterization and miscegenation. Harper and Brothers refuses to publish the novel until Grey agrees to have Nophaie die ( The American West, 254). Greys struggles parallel Garlands to a high degree: Harper and Brothers forced the Remington illustrations on Garlands revisionist project despite his objections. As these two cases illustrate, Harper and Brothers act from a sense of market profit rather than moral project. It pressures both Garland and Grey, particularly after Greys work initiates a controversy. Grey relents to this pressure. His original manuscript version remains unpublished until after his death, which suggests a reason why other of his revisionist works, like Blue Feather (1961), are not published until after his death as well. As a consequence of this confrontation, Grey avoids trying to publish so radically revisionist a novel again. Despite this controversy, Grey maintains the internal instances of revisionism in this novel, thereby retaining their disruptive potential. While the racist policies the original ending had opposed still exercise their authority, Grey manages to continue voicing his other revisionist arguments. Grey's revisionism here is remarkable, finally, for its extent and subtlety. 5 In his novel, he does not explicitly use the terms "captivity" to describe Nophaie's ordeal at the hands of the bandits and the subsequent ordeal at the hand so the reformers, but he represents Nophaie's experiences in terms that make such 4 Cf. Bold 89; Hamilton 73. 5 Grey also uses the threat of captivity by Dark Others other than Native peoples in other works, like "Escape" (1976). In the sequel to Riders "The Hogan of Nas Ta Bega" (1976), he revives his arguments about the literal and figurative captivity of Native peoples by whites by nefarious white missionaries (here through Glen Naspa), by well-intended whites (Nas Ta Bega's captivity among whites and its consequences, 208, 216), and the captivity of women by Mormons in the secret community of "sealed wives" (in which Fay Larkin, from Riders is now kept) and which require rescue.

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93 an analogy implicit. Nophaie becomes the captive taken by the white outlaws, ostensibly "rescued" by the benevolence of misguided whites who wish also to "rescue" him from what they see as his racial and cultural captivity by providing him an education in nontraditional schools. By doing this "noble thing," his rescuers engender a schism in him between his original and adopted culture--a difference which plagues and ultimately kills him. In this way Grey indicts current and past assimilationist agendas, rhetoric he will continue throughout the novel (e.g. 101, 113, 115, and 133-34). Thereby, Grey's novel functions as a vehicle for revising such agendas and their attendant prejudices. In other words, Grey casts Nophaie's experiences as a captivity narrative to effect radical social and political revisions--to free the real captives created by conventional captivity narratives that only portray red-on-white violence. This metaphorical engagement of captivity also informs the novel's second use of captivity: an indictment of "the basest and blackest crime of the many crimes the white race had perpetuated upon the red"--"the ruin of Indian girls by white men employed on the reservation" (133). In this sense, their indoctrination and literal and figurative abductions constitute captivity, with the captors being white and the captives red--a rearticulation of conventional roles to emphasize the disparity of power relations as well as question the assumptions surrounding captivity as an assumed concept of red-on-white violence. Grey further invokes captivity in an altered form to emphasize how these previous assumptions limit a more inclusive perspective. In this case he uses captivity to prevent the abduction and rape of a young Nopah girl, Gekin Yashi, by the evil missionary Morgan. He has Nophaie capture Gekin Yashi, an impressionable young girl, and rescue

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94 her from her fate. She at first contextualizes her capture by this warrior as a traditional or ritual form of captivity in which a young man would abduct (capture) his bride-to-be. In this way, Grey again emphasizes captivity as a relative label applied to actions as part of rhetorical strategies. In other words, Gekin Yashi's captivity is relative to its audience. This revision invites readers to expand their own definitions of and relations to captivity. Grey compounds this revisionary impulse by casting the rescuer and rescued as red, thereby further inviting readers to redefine their concepts of captivity and thereby potentially effect the greatest perspectival changes for readers. Finally, Grey presents a third revision of captivity with Shoie's capture and torture by German soldiers in World War I. To this traditional captivity (a warrior captured and tortured by enemy captors) Grey adds differences that make it a vehicle for revision. In this case Grey offers readers a vision of white-on-red violence that casts Shoie as the captive, whose captivity proves his incredible prowess as a warrior (since he endures the extremes of German tortures (being spiked to a wall through his hands and feet, and eventually having his tongue cut out) before he finally rescues himself [263]). Grey intentionally uses "captured" to describe Shoie's captivity, thereby redefining it from conventional military use to a revisionary one. Grey further modifies this captivity to indict prejudicial treatment of Indian peoples by having Shoie suffer in the service of a country which does not even recognize him as a citizen. Shoie's captivity also prevents him from ever fully integrating back into his original society. He remains an outcast to the novel's end. His captivity has marked him as Other, a stigma against which he labors unsuccessfully. Shoie does not gain status through his captivity and self-rescue as he probably would have in traditional Nopah

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95 society, but instead suffers further because of it. Unlike Tayo in Silkos Ceremony Shoie has no one to lead him back to healing. This literal captivity compliments Nophaie's metaphorical one and thereby invites readers to consider what captivity "really" is. By so casting these three captivities, Grey has advanced and reinforced a powerful argument for revising conventional definitions of captivity as well as prejudicial ideologies that continue to relegate Native peoples to the roles of noble and ignoble savages and captivity as simply the violent actions of Native peoples against Anglo captives. Max Brand (Frederick Faust) From Grey's revisions of captivity conventions, we turn to another prodigious and influential author contemporaneous with Grey, Frederick Faust. Faust, perhaps better known as Max Brand the creator of such popular characters as Destry and Doctor Kildare, produces several works during the 1920s and 1930s that represent Native peoples, particularly the Cheyenne (Tsis-tsis-tsas) in a positive light, indict racist attitudes and policies that denigrated Native peoples, and explore issues of racial identity. Beginning in 1925, Brand produces a decade of novellas and serials designed to revise negative representations. He first produces two novellas, Lost Wolf and The White Cheyenne and then two years later serializes novellas in his Thunder Moon series for Western Story Magazine While creating this series, Edgar L. Chapman argues, Brand chafes against the editorial policies at Western Story Magazine which seek to limit his positive representations of Native peoples (xv). However, Brand uses his immense popularity to continue his revisionist positions despite the limitations of discriminatory editorial policies. Freed from this constraint, Brand produces his second round of works

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96 advocating for Native peoples approximately a decade later. Here Brand continued his strategy with three novellas in 1934: War Party Frontier Feud and Cheyenne Gold We gather some degree of Brand's contemporary fame when we realize that Popular Publications bought 200,000 words by Brand in 1934, among which were these three works. 6 The speed with which these works went from serials to novels indicates the extent of reader interest in revisionary captivity. Their subsequent republication in later decades indicates the continued popularity of both Brand and his revisionist rhetoric. Furthermore, this decade of production reveals Brand's intense interest in the condition of Native peoples and his desire to alter reductive perspectives on Native peoples. Finally, his reliance on and adherence to George Bird Grinell's definitive works on the Cheyenne The Fighting Cheyenne and The Cheyenne Indians (1923) indicate his desire to represent Cheyenne people within their own cultural context. In doing so, his novels reveal ethnographic facts about a people that Brand also represents as people, with individuality, not as simply stock illustrations, whether noble or savage. This rhetoric indicates his desire to educate a misinformed public about Cheyenne and, by extension, other Native peoples. All of these works indict reservations and other Indian policies which categorize and demonize Native peoples. In this sense, he joins writers like Grey and Burroughs who also seek similar goals. Like them, Brand relies heavily on captivity, its conventions, and his redefinitions to achieve that end. Like them, he too ultimately reifies some of the very categories he seeks to redefine, but he does so in a revisionist context which allows readers aware of his encoding to realize his strategy. 6 For an informed reading of Brands career, see Bold 91-104.

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97 Brand begins that strategy early in his career. His Beyond the Outposts (1925) intentionally launches a revisionist agenda aimed at reorienting negative audience perspectives on captivity and Native peoples, while confirming positive audience perspectives on both (71-72). To achieve these goals, Brand relies heavily on captivity and the communicative possibilities it presents for audiences, as manifest by Sitting Bears empowerment while a Pawnee captive. However, before he begins that aspect of his agenda, he carefully lays revisionist groundwork about Native peoples, as when he has Morris/Rising Sun contextualize the Cheyenne actions for Dorset/Black (e.g. 67, 70-71). From there he constantly celebrates Brul culture and condemns Anglo exploitation of that culture, as evidenced by his commentary on Morris life with Zinctallassappa. Taken together, this scenario repeatedly emphasizes the legitimacy of Native peoples and life ways; in the process, it uses captivity to endorse that position and to revise captivitys conventional representations as wella strategy he will revive in Lost Wolf (1925). His book Lost Wolf (1928) offers competing perspectives on captivity as part of his strategy of transcoding conventional rhetoric. 7 As he has done in previous works, Brand first problematizes racial identity as an absolute category through Glanvill Tucker's/White Badgers experiences among the Cheyenne. As he often does, Brand has Native parents adopt an Anglo infant whose identity as a tribal member creates predictable problems and ultimately causes that individual to distinguish himself. In the process, Brand also, as in that series, has the protagonist encounter various formulations of captivity to emphasize the conventional construction of Native identity and captivity. 7 Originally published in 1925 in W estern Story Magazine as The Squaw Boy then first published in book form in 1928 as Lost Wolf Brand's Lost Wolf appears in its final form in 1928.

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98 Here these arguments first coincide with White Badgers capture by Standing Elk, the Pawnee chief from whom he had stolen his legendary horse, Red Wind. Standing Elk intends him to suffer a traditional fate as a Pawnee captivetorture and death. But in the process, Brand spends over twenty pages rearticulating captivity in unconventional ways. He intentionally juxtaposes competing discourses so that readers cannot ally themselves with reductive arguments. He introduces conventional rhetoric when Lost Wolf faces his captors with disdain while the Pawnees "screamed and danced like demons in front of their captive (199). Then, from the opposite end of the spectrum, Brand offers a rearticulation of conventional images by having Lost Wolfs aiding Red Winds escape from his captors (197)an action which extends the boundaries of captivity to nonhumans. Into this mix, Brand adds a white trader who redeems Lost Wolf from his captors with the intent of the redemption of that tigerish youth from barbarism to civilization" (217). Despite the trader's efforts, Lost Wolf retains his own sense of identity, finally returning to his Cheyenne people at the novel's end. Such a move parallels to a large extent Remingtons John Ermine but here Brand chooses to end the novel with Lost Wolf's return and probable reintegration into his tribal identity. He does not have him suffer death to prevent his possible return. Later, however, Brand will modify this scenario as in the Thunder Moon series, and have his protagonists return to their original, white identities and communities, fleeing from the possibilities of miscegenation and transracial movement--much more in keeping with others writing at this time, but not before thoroughly mixing categories of identity and captivity.

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99 Brand offers his second redefinition of captivity toward the novel's end. There, during a cavalry raid that he has guided, Lost Wolf captures two Pawnee warriors, one of whom is Standing Elk, the Pawnee chief who had captured him earlier and from whom he had taken Red Wind. The white cavalry officer leading the expedition repeatedly balks at the idea of Lost Wolf taking captives. In part the officer's motivation comes from his expectation that the captives will be treated in a torturous and hideous manner--a conclusion derived from sensational stories. Lost Wolf's intentions seem traditional: the captives will serve as part of his readmittance to the tribe. When pressed as to what the Cheyenne will do with the captives, he explicitly tells the officer: "How can I tell? I make them my gift to the Cheyennes. They are mine. They are not yours. You cannot ask what I shall do with them, and when I give them to the Cheyennes, I cannot ask what they will do with them!" (362). From this speech, readers easily discern Lost Wolf's intentions to use the captives as simply collateral. This intention raises the issue of captivity in a new and potentially negative light (if you view captivity as the officer does). If Lost Wolf is simply taking captives as part of a tradition which requires captives to be tortured to death, then he could appear barbaric by handing bound prisoners over to certain death. Such an outcome potentially jeopardizes Brands use of Lost Wolf as a revisionary vehicle. Perhaps recognizing this potential failing, Band avoids using it in his subsequent novels and instead explicitly constructs situations which allow the protagonist to avoid this final outcome. Here, Brand further complicates the issue by having Lost Wolf finally walk away from the captives entirely, after the officer's repeated attempts to exchange the captives for Pawnee plunder. The officer's attempts further emphasize the economic

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100 nature of the captivity process, a translation which ultimately disgusts Lost Wolf enough to abandon the entire process. This scene, then, unavoidably presents the nature of captivity as exchange and argues that the practice is sufficiently beneath heroes to warrant their walking away. It also underscores the myopia of conventional perspectives on captivity (the Officer's) and revisionist ones (Lost Wolf's and the sympathetic reader's). As this scene dramatizes, the differences between these two systems forestall any possibility of communication, more so from the conventional side whose limited and limiting perspective prevents its adherents from seeing any other possibilities. As this scene also dramatizes, Brand abandons the hope of revising expectations about captivity by the party in charge, as it were-the novel abruptly ends at this point, with possible communication ended. As we shall see with his Red Hawk and Thundercloud series, Brand returns to the issues of captivity and its revisionary, but with an orientation more toward contemporary tastes. This qualification does not indict Brand's later articulations as simply pandering to the market, but indicates the diligence with which he pursues his revisionist goals though appearing to operate within conventional means. His methods become more subtle of necessity, but no less genuine. Unlike Lost Wolf Brand avoids open dialogue, repeatedly trying to revise its terms through more oblique means. Max Brands Thunder Moon series, 19271928 In the first episode of his Thunder Moon series, The Legend of Thunder Moon (1927), Brand literally flees from the possibilities of captivity that he introduces as swiftly as the Suhtai flee their Comanche pursuers. Such a flight is curious given Brand's extensive explorations of race in this novel. And even more curious given that the primary plot vehicle for this series is a revisionist exploration of captivity. So when he

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101 has the Comanche captive taken by Thunder Moon at the novel's end simply vanish from the plot, Brand may seem disingenuous. However, he has provided an extended rearticulation of captivity throughout the novel. This ambiguity informs this novels use of captivity, Brand begins to complicate the issues of captivity and identity at the novels beginning when he has Big Hard Face undergo an individual quest to accomplish some heroic deed worthy of memory among the Suhtai band of the Cheyenne (Tsis-tsis-sas). During his epic journey, Big Hard Face takes a white baby he was about to scalp to raise as his own, reasoning that the spirits had intended him to do so or they would not have brought him so far from home. This ambiguity of action (Is it an act of captivity?) informs Brands positions on captivity and identity: he intentionally complicates both with the intent of affecting a revisionist perspective for readers. Thunder Moons life follows predictable patterns, primarily articulating a racial division toward certain violent acts. Thunder Moon ostracizes himself from his people because he will not commit certain acts of violence and cannot endure his own physical pain. Since Thunder Moon will not take scalps, he takes a Comanche warrior captive during their famous raid into Comancheri with the intention of returning with him to the Suhtai camp for his torture and deathan acceptable alternative for him since he will not be the one actually killing the captives. Such an outcome of the raid would validate Thunder Moon's place among his band as a conventional Cheyenne warrior, hereby validating his identity as a Cheyenne. However, Brand loses the captive in these final pages--literally. Readers never learn what happens to the captive after Thunder Moon goes alone into the Comanche camp to

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102 steal their sacred idol, leaving his captive in charge of the rest of his war party. From this point on, the captive vanishes without a trace from the narrative. In doing so, Brand seems to repeat the same sorts of evasion that he had used in earlier novels, like Lost Wolf Such is not the case in the next installment in the series, Red Wind and Thunder Moon (1927). There Brand further complicates the formulas of racial identity than he had done in the first novel. Here, he does so primarily through what at first seem to be more conventional images of captivity. Brand redefines captivity in ways that develop his definitions more fully then simple inversions would do. He starts by having Thunder Moon take a Pawnee captive. Thunder Moon openly defies the Suhtai tradition that requires death and torture for enemy captives; instead, he treats his captive with kindness--which puzzles both the Suhtai and the captive. Brand explicitly uses the designation "captive" and "Captor" when referring to the Pawnee and Thunder Moon. Brand uses Thunder Moon's actions to call into question the revenge cycle associated with captivity: Thunder Moon's ultimate return of the captive to his brother who is the leader of the Pawnee and the consequential improvement of intertribal relations illustrate how a more generous captivity can produce benefits for everyone. However positive this reformulation may seem, Brand complicates it by introducing Red Wind and her attendant problems. Brands other revisionary use of captivity occurs through the enigmatic figure of Red Wind. As he slowly unravels the mystery surrounding her identity, Brand reveals that she is the daughter of an Omissis chief and a woman he had taken from the Comanches, who had "captured [her] in Mexico" (121). This passing reference to

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103 multiple captivities invokes a series of revisionary strategies. But Brand also complicates this revisionism by making her the constant source of friction and violence for those males surrounding her. However, Brand uses captivity in a revisionary role more intensely in the third installment in this series, Thunder Moon and the Sky People Brand further redefines conventional definitions of captivity in his third installment of the Thunder Moon series, Thunder Moon and the Sky People (1927). There, Thunder Moon accepts Red Winds advice and returns to his original family to learn about his white heritage. Expectantly, he encounters racial prejudice and hatred as well as the difficulties of acculturation in this new environment. For the most part, Brand has Thunder Moon deal with such difficulties and differences in a sympathetic and successful way, although he does have Thunder Moon vacillate between desiring red and white cultures and even pronounce white culture superior to red culture (119-20). However, racial hatred finally drives Thunder Moon back to his people through Big Hard Face's captivity among the whites. Brand makes this point explicit: that the primary motive for Thunder Moon's return to the Suhtai is his father's captivity. He also argues further revisionist points about captivity through this incident. He is most explicit with this chapter's title "Captive," which signals that Big Hard Face is not simply the victim of a prejudicial justice system administered by racial bigots, but that he is a captive and that his incarceration is meant to be read as captivity. Of course, such an inversion immediately recasts the roles of captor and captive, thereby emphasizing the arbitrariness of the categories and their underlying ideologies. Brand here is explicitly rearticulating captivity through this incident and with it introducing a range of racial issues as well.

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104 Brand furthers his agenda by having Red Wind explicitly define Big Hard Face's captivity as an insult: "To be shamed and captured is worse than to die" (135). This equation contrasts with Brand's original (almost comic) use of captivity in this novel: when he has Standing Antelope confuse their treatment on their arrival at the Sutton Plantation as captivity (34). Such an insult, therefore, warrants his son's swift and unrestrained action. During his initial attempts to free his father through legal means, Thunder Moon learns that his biological father intends to railroad his adoptive father so that he can maintain control over Thunder Moon. Aided by Red Wind and Standing Antelope, Thunder Moon then mounts a full scale rescue of Big Hard Face. They manage to elude their pursuers until the novel's end, when Big Hard Face sacrifices himself for the others' sake. Thus ends the captivity narrative of Big Hard Face. The final installment of the Thunder Moon series, Farewell, Thunder Moon (1928), is the least innovative in its use of captivity for revisionary purposes. In fact, it invokes captivity only in three places, all of which support standard images of captivity and privilege Thunder Moons whiteness. For example, Thunder Moon and his entourage of elite warriors ride to revenge and rescue the white captives that the Pawnees have taken. When Brand reveals these captives taken by the Pawnee, he uses a rhetoric that instantly echoes that of sensationalized imagery from standard representations: a captive Anglo family which more moving to him than the flashing of a sword (34). This cluster of helpless white captives so overwhelms Thunder Moon that he pledges instantaneous revenge and rescue, promising his warriors one of his prized horses for each captive rescued and redeemed to him. The image that prompts him comes from penny dreadful so empowering Thunder Moon, Brand again invokes Thunder Moon's

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105 racial superiority: Thunder Moon will set right all that has been made wrong by the "bad" Indians--at his own expense. Moreover, Thunder Moon becomes the privileged rescuer/hero of the wagon train when he returns these captives. And, of course, in true fashion, the train he saves and to which he returns these captives proves to contain his true (white) love who had come West to find and marry him, so that they could ride off into the sunset together. In so doing, Brand has Thunder Moon renounce his red identity for his white. Thunder Moon tells Standing Antelope at the novels end: "I was two people in one," he said, with a sudden calmness, "but now one half is dead. I am going home to my own people. I am William Sutton at last." (79-80). After a complex revision of captivity and racial identity in his previous three novels, Brand abruptly ends with an emphatic endorsement of racial difference. This ending threatens to erase any and all gains Brand may have made toward inclusive definitions of captivity and race. Edgar Rice Burrough's The War Chief 1927 While Brand is authoring his revisionist works, Edgar Rice Burroughs argues for the need to revise stereotypes about Native peoples and captivity with his The War Chief (1927). However late or opportunistic his novel may seem in this discourse, Burroughs had been planning this novel since 1919. Then he declares his affinity for revision by planning a Tarzanesque novel of a white boy captured by Apaches which would reveal the atrocities committed on [Apaches] by whites (Morsberger vii). Commenting on this novel after it is published in 1927, he writes: I endeavored to write the story from the viewpoint of an Apache; in fact, as though I were an Apache, and without permitting racial prejudices to influence me (Porges 427).

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106 To do so, he immerses himself in research on Apache culture, as Porges and Morsberger argue. He claims to have bought every available book (see Porges list of these books, 756, n43), and to have reread them so frequently that their inconsistencies require him to take considerable license in his writing. To realize his goal, Burroughs also draws on his own experiences as a cavalryman in the decade following the end of the Apache wars. Recalling that experience, he reveals that Army life had made him extremely biased: I knew them [Apaches] from the soldiers and white mans point of view and even in that day they were still hated and hunted like coyotes or mountain lion, . and everyone that I talked with being absolutely convinced that there was no good in them. (vi) However, he revises his own opinions after his military career. Burroughs own reformulation of opinion on Apaches fuels his desire to effect similar changes in the wider audience he had gained through the popularity of his other books. In other words, he intends to use his popularity as the platform to launch revisionist campaign intent upon altering public opinion toward Apaches as the nadir of Indian savagery. Porges offers an extended and detailed account of this evolution and the subsequent publication of Burroughs The War Chief and Apache Devil (421-27). There he notes that Burroughs first approaches H. C. Paxton, editor of The Country Gentleman in 1925 with his story idea that would become The War Chief Burroughs views publication in this magazine as his entry into a prestige market, and made it plain he was writing the story to specifically meet the requirements of the Curtis publication (421). In 1926 Burroughs communicates that he has taken a new direction with the story line: I find records of innumerable instances in which white children were captured by

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107 Apaches and reared by them as members of their own tribes, and in this fact I saw the possibility of a romantic character that might be likened to an Apache Tarzan (421). He further notes that the story would be written from the viewpoint of the Apache about a captive boy who would be unaware that he was not an Indian. Burroughs then refers to a similar instance of a captive girl who assimilated with her captors, before stating that he will not begin the story until Paxton approves of its story line and the rate of payment. Once they agree on the terms, Paxton cautions Burroughs to hold far closer to the probabilities of the story line than he had done in his Tarzan seriesadvice Burroughs takes to heart, as evidenced by the extent of his research on Apache culture. Despite Burroughs desire to accommodate Paxtons wishes, Paxton rejects The War Chief of the Apaches because it was not quite the serial we should offer our readers. Seeking reasons, Burroughs wonders if his character development is too crude, or if he had spent too much time detailing Shoz-Dijijis early life: I was anxious, probably over-anxious to develop the readers understanding of the training and environment of Apaches from childhood to the end that some of their crude and inhuman practices might not make them wholly abhorrent in his eyes (422). Paxton finally argues that the average reader has no such special feeling towards any of the Plains Indians that they would have towards romanticized noble savages. Porges notes Paxtons constant arguments that a serial written from the Indians side would have only a limited appealdespite his initial approval of the project with Burroughs. Paxton further admits that though Burroughs story could have genuine literary and historic value, its revisionist stance prevents it from being marketable: the most effective use of savage peoples in fiction is where the red or brown or black man is

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108 shown as the staunchly loyal follower of the white leader, and where there is the opportunity for the striking contrast between characters of different races (422-23). According to Paxton, Burroughs violates this rule through his realistic portrayal of Native characters and cultures. This situation echoes the difficulties that Grey had encountered at Curtis with The Vanishing American (1922) and Garland with The Book of the American Indian at Harper & Brothers (1923). From such comments and his quoting company policy, Paxton reveals Curtis reluctance to engage in another firestorm with a revisionist work as it had three years prior. This difficulty also proves that even an author of the stature of Burroughs is not immune to the editorial censure of conventionally-minded publishers. However, Burroughs does not give up. Instead, he publishes his novel, its title now shortened to The War Chief, in Argosy-All Story in 1927 and with McClurg later that same year. The following year he completes the sequel, Apache Devil and sells it to Argosy after its rejection by Colliers Liberty Popular and Blue Book (467). During this same period, Burroughs fights a constant battle to maintain the integrity of his revisionist project as the novel version of The War Chief goes to press. Burroughs constant struggles with the publishers reveal how strongly he has adopted a revisionist position with regard to his proposed trilogy--how adamantly he wants to maintain the integrity of his project. Burroughs complains repeatedly that editors at the press are ruining his manuscript by intentionally deleting paragraphs sympathetic to Apache lifestyles. Furthermore, he objects to the cover art that McClurg had chosen: The figure of the Indian is not of an Apache; it does not look like an Indian and is homely as Hell. I did not mind so much when I saw it on the magazine cover, but I was nearly sick when I

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109 saw that you had adopted it for the book Burroughs feels that the cover art would relegate the story to the yellow covered, dime novel category at first glance. It is cheap and untrue and will convince readers that the text is as worthless and as full of errors as the jacket (426). Unfortunately, the final decision rests with McClurg, who chooses to publish the cover as it is on September 15, 1927. As insightful as this series of events is in determining Burroughs reasons and intents in The War Chief we need also to see what readers would have seen--the novel. There we see many details about traditional Apache life ways as part of his revisionist representations of Apaches. Burroughs chooses as his primary vehicle for this series a white boy who is rescued or captured, depending upon reader perspective, from the massacre of his family at the novels beginning. This relativism also informs his representation of native characters, as in his revelation of Go-Yat-Thlays reasons for the raid that brings him Shoz-Dijiji (7). Relativism and revision will continue to inform the entire novel. From this point Burroughs offers many competing images of captivity and identity. As with Brands works, Burroughs has Shoz-Dijiji/Black Bear encounter racism at the hands of tribal members (which predictably acts as an impetus for his superior abilities). Moreover, Burroughs introduces readers to a more sympathetic Geronimo than many have encountered (as the above quote indicates). He also argues for revisionist positions by including an incident of red-on-red captivitya Yuma squaw, a prisoner of war working in the village (39). As Brand has done for his protagonists, Burroughs defines Shoz-Dijiji as having an overruling disgust in torture (48, 66, 92), which he articulates this way: I know I am

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110 right, and I shall not torture if I never [sic] become a warrior! (160-61). In direct contrast to Shoz-dijiji and Go-Yat-Thlay, Burroughs has Juh the Butcher torture a Mexican captive (100-1). Here, he uses captivity to contrast the two approaches of these individuals, and further argue that the possibilities of captivity are not universal or permanent: Some captors do torture, whether from homicidal tendencies or revenge, while others do not. However, Burroughs also includes competing perspectives to emphasize his revisionism. For example, he opens this novel with a Social Darwinist argument that privileges Shoz-Dijijis whiteness despite his attempt to contextualize that superiority as the natural product of human evolution (10). But overall, his tone is one of revision, as manifest most explicitly in the constellation of events surrounding Wichita Billings and Lt. King. For example, Burroughs uses Shoz-Dijiji to rescue King and thereby provide him with the vehicle for his own rejection of conventional rhetoric: In the light of what Lieutenant King had heard of the character and customs of Apaches he found it difficult to satisfactorily explain the magnanimity of the very first one it had been his fortune to encounter. He found his preconceived estimate of Apache character hanging in mid-air with all its props kicked from under it, and all he could do was wonder. (327) Burroughs intends a similar suspension of prior beliefs for audience members who still hold them. To emphasize the power and potential of such a conversion, he has Kings initial revision expand and develop into a fully revised perspective with subsequent plot points. As this example indicates, Burroughs modifies standard plot lines and perspectives on captivity to reveal their constructedness. By so doing, and further by having his main characters undergo such an explicit revelation, Burroughs dramatizes the reductivism of

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111 stereotypes and the empowerment that comes through a characters (and by analogy a readers) consciousness of them. This event further modifies his inclusion of conventional perspectives. Conversion, then, and the power that attends it, informs Burroughs entire project. Perhaps the most central conversion comes through Wichitas captivity. Burroughs reveals Wichitas ambivalence over her captivity by Shoz-Dijiji. In part, this anxiety stems from the anonymous threat derived from circumstantial evidence, rather than from the real and present captor whom she has come to trust implicitly. As she is being taken away, she considers her status in terms straight from conventional rhetoric (366-67), as the quote from the epigraph so pointedly illustrates. Burroughs modifies and prevents Wichitas captivity from being standardized or simply reducible to a plot mechanism to unite lovers as other contemporaries do. Instead, he explicitly contrasts it with those constructions based on racist rhetoric. Moreover, Burroughs choice of Apache captivity allows him to reverse the scale of cruelty attributed to both captivity and Apaches by that rhetoric. As Wichita does, audiences see how Apache treat friend. After this point, Burroughs then introduces how racist constructions distort and destroy Native peoples and their life ways, when he has Geronimo, Wichita, and Shoz-Dijiji debate the realities of reservation life shortly after her captivity: What has he [the white man] done for us? He is trying to take away from us the ways of our fathers--our dances, our medicine men, everything that we hold sacred; and in return he gives us whiskey and shoots us wherever he finds us. I do not think the pindah lickoyee are such good men that they can tell the Indian how to be good. Around every post and agency the whitemen are always trying to ravish our women. The women of the Apache are good women. When they are not we cut off their noses. How many Apache women have you ever seen whose noses had been cut off? Do you think we want to come and live beside such men? Do you

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112 think there is anything that they can teach us that is better than our fathers taught us? You think it is bad to kill. Yes, it is bad to kill; but it is better to kill like men and braves, openly and upon the war trail, than to kill by lies. Our people are told great lies to get them to come into the reservations, and there they are starved; and if they leave the reservation to hunt for food for their women and children, without a pass from the agent who is robbing them, then the soldiers come and shoot them. No, Shoz-Dijiji never be a reservation Indian! I am sorry, she said. I never thought of it from your side. I can see that in some ways you are right; but in others you are wrong. All white men are not bad. All Indians are not bad, he replied quickly, but the pindah lickoyee treat them all alike--bad. (378-79) Such elaborate and explicit stagings of his anti-racist arguments reveal how Burroughs intends this novel as a vehicle for larger revisionist agendas to which he willingly adds his weight as a famous author. They also echo his personal reorientation toward Native peoples and captivity. Given the greater degree of detail and staging these scenes receive, we can see how Burroughs intent to advance a revisionist perspective overshadows his novels conventional assertions (like Social Darwinism example above). Overall, as his arguments with Paxton indicate, Burroughs intends The War Chief to be a vehicle that will effect real and wide-spread changes of opinion for readers. Direct textual evidence argues the same point. 8 8 However, not all critics interpret Burroughs strategy here. For example, Erling B. Holtsmark notes the novels pro-Indian stance, but finally subsumes it under the same rubric with which he reads the rest of Burroughs novels: a hero tale of archetypal proportions (95-97). More recently, Sonnichsen offers a backhanded compliment to Burroughs reformist project: Burroughs sees the Apaches as fine, sensitive human beings . .. (67). 9 La Farge invokes captivity at one other time in the novel. There, he has Yellow Singer see Slim Girl in a traditional captivity context: "He read her face, remembering that her grandmother had been an Apache who, in her time, had set contemplating the antics of men tied on antheaps (60).

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113 Oliver La Farge's Laughing Boy 1929 Finally, Oliver La Farge's Laughing Boy (1929) concludes this section. Such a conclusion is fitting in many ways, but primarily for the balance it provides this period. It balances the stereotypical sensationalism of Native peoples and captivity with its intimate portraits of human beings. It provides commentary on past and present assimilationist ideologies rather than promoting Progressivism. And it actively revises standardized notions of captivity as solely an act of violence committed by red captors against white captives. For all these reasons La Farge's Pulitzer Prize winning novel fittingly ends this sections discussion. La Farge first revise images of captivity through his characterization of Slim Girl. Laughing Boy's uncle, Killed a Navaho, describes her as having been "taken away to that place" (an Indian boarding school) and there corrupted into an American (33). Here, Killed a Navaho's metaphor "taken away" creates an analogy between her being taken to boarding school and being captureda point echoed by late authors like Louise Erdrich. This conflation becomes explicit when Slim Girl reveals her plans to use Laughing Boy to achieve an idyllic life free from such possibilities of capture and assimilation--"in a place where the agent's men never came to snatch little children from their parents and take them off to school (44). Their immersion in Din culture would be "her revenge" for her own captivity. 9 La Farge's referential use of captivity here recontextualizes Slim Girl's actions as part of a larger metaphorical captivity from which she is freeing herself. In this respect, Slim Girl's character parallels those heroines of Native captivity narratives who plan and execute their own rescues. Given La Farge's heavy emphasis on Slim Girl as, audiences receive a constant rearticulation of captivity as not simply the violent practice of red

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114 captors on white captives, but an ongoing governmental policy toward Native peoples (thereby echoing authors like Grey and Garland). By rearticulating captivity in these terms, La Farge clearly intends to raise audience awareness of this issue so that it can be ended. Captivity-as-catalyst forms the basis for many similarly oriented works, and follows similar rhetorical models. But where La Farge's book differs from most of these other projects is in its revision of a female captive's role. In this way he aligns himself with other Native American authors who use captivity for this purpose (e.g. Hum-ishu-ma). Seeking to capitalize on the success of La Farge's novel Laughing Boy MGM releases its movie version in 1934 with two big stars as drawing cards main roles, Ramon Navarro and Lupe Valez. By doing so, it also insures a larger audience for the movie, and its messages against racism and assimilationist policies, which in turn promote sympathy for Native peoples in general, thereby fueling revisionist sentiment among movie goers for years beyond the original appearance of La Farges reformulation. Movies One of the best ways to understand how movies in the Twenties approach the revision of captivity is to begin with a brief survey from this period. Predictably, movies follow patterns of representation similar to those found in the above novels. In fact, such conventions will remain strong throughout the next decade as well and arguably into the Sixties with novels and movies like Run of the Arrow Here in this decade, movies play a crucial role in defining images of Native peoples and captivity negative events. The American movie Institute Catalog of Motion Pictures listing for 1921-1930 indicates approximately 110 movies about North American Indians, but only a dozen deal directly with captivity. These others employ the full range of possibility for Native peoples: from

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115 anonymous evil threats (e.g. Warrior Gap 1925) and major antagonists (e.g. Eagle Claw in Ranger of the North 1927) to Samaritans (e.g. Spoilers of the West 1927) and primary love interests, who usually sacrifice themselves for their white lovers happiness (e.g. The Old Code 1928). Other movies detail how formal education destroys Native students while ostensively seeking to empower them in assimilationist fantasies: these students become ostracized from their original tribes (e.g. The Great Alone, 1922) or corrupted into nefarious villains (e.g. The Wild Bulls Lair, 1925). Braveheart (1925) and Redskin (1929) also argue that assimilationist policies destroy Native identity. The Vanishing American (1926) offers its melodramatic charges of Social Darwinist theories. Other movies directly invoke captivity in conventional terms. The Iron Horse (1924) references captivity as that fate-worse-than-death. The Devil Horse (1926) portrays Native people as sadistic murderers who torture a colt before a boys eyes then force him to fight that same colt after they have recaptured the boy and made the horse into the Devil Horse. In addition to featuring Native peoples as anonymous foes, The Covered Wagon (1923) has a former captive in its cast: Mrs. Broken Hand, who had been captured by Arapahos in 1865, then raised by them. Brownlow and Munden note that she could speak no English and had avoided her family because they were strangers to her (372). Her biography informs the realities of captivity, particularly as they articulate issues of identity. Of the features dealing directly with captivity beyond its use as a conventional plot point allowing white heroes to rescue white heroines from red captors (like Quickern Lightnin ,1925), few articulate the effects of captivity outside previous

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116 conventions that foreclose the possibility of a white adoptee/captives assuming a legitimate tribal identity. Movies like The Hunger in the Blood (1921), Blazing Arrows (1922), A Daughter of the Sioux (1925), and The Red Rider (1925) rely on the convention of whites who are adopted by red people, but later discover their real birth right and return to successful lives in white society at the movies endforestalling any anxieties over miscegenation. Such endings also reinforce the very racial distinction that the adoptees' acceptance by their Native adopters erased: while members of the tribe, the adoptees could freely move within that society; however, once they reject their adoptive people they cannot reassimilate and therefore become outcasts (consider Rusty Sabin's aimless travail in Brand's Red Hawk series). The Invaders (1929) and Sioux Blood (1929) vary this plot by employing the theme of separated siblings who, predictably, return to white society. These examples illustrate a disturbing facet of such movies: they ultimately reinforce the very racial distinctions they initially question. For most of these movies, the white adoptee realizes his (they are usually male) Anglo American identity and assumes a role in white society, abandoning his adoptive tribe, usually after acquiring some means to wealth and power from their red culture. Once these adoptees realize their original identities and return to their former groups, their lives with their Native adopters become diversions which (most often in the case of male characters) provide them with a sufficient amount of frontier experience to then better enable them to help their original people. In other words, they use the frontier experience for their own profit. Other movies at this time endorse the image of Native characters selflessly serving Anglos as in Braveheart (1925), when Braveheart (Rod La Rocque) rescues his

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117 Anglo love interest (Lillian Rich) and her Anglo love interest from their Native captors before fading away from the possibility of miscegenation. Similarly, Winning of the West (1922) requires a Native girl to repay the whites who nursed her back to health by rescuing the couples daughter from her captors, before the cavalry rides to the rescue. As was the case in the last decades with films like An Indians Bride (1909), the "sensitive" Native character recognizes the need to rescue the white victim and in so doing, sacrifices his or her own status and life among the tribe. Servitude to Anglos determines what Natives may do in such movies. Overall, movies are less progressive in this period than contemporary serialized novels by Brand and far less revisionary than Hum-ishu-mas Cogewa (1927). Rare exceptions confront the overwhelming weight of such conventional representations of captivity through rearticulation. For example, Mary Pickfords The Sparrows (1926) features a form of captivity/slavery narrative wherein a group of orphans and abductees escapes from their cruel guardian/captor. However, the most notable exception is Buster Keatons The Paleface (1922) which endorses Native peoples and also actively condemns the assimilationist policies and greed of whites for Native mineral rights raging at that time. Moreover, it represents another part of the larger revisionist agenda that Keaton pursues with his other revisionist Westerns, Out West (1918) and Go West (1925). In each of these movies he relentlessly rearticulates the standard Western mythos so popularized by movies and stars like Brett Hart. Here, Keaton directly confronts the reductive aspects of conventional constructions of captivity by having himself captured as a response to Anglo depredations, but then subverting his torture by constantly moving the torture stake to which he is tied, thereby forestalling his

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118 death until he is finally adopted into the tribe. By so constructing this movie, Keaton challenges the conventional codes through excess. As this brief survey indicates, Hollywood in the Twenties formulates Native identity primarily along the traditional dichotomy of noble/ignoble savagery. Given their wide appeal and availability, movies naturally reflect and determine much of the contemporary discourse on Native identity and captivity at this time. However, most of the discourse in movies at this time is negative and conventional. For example, Maurice Tourneur's version of The Last of the Mohicans (1920) promotes conventional images of Native identity through captivity with protracted scenes of savages hurling babies to their deaths, scalping women, and leering directly into the camera, just to name a few of its blatantly stereotypical devices. In creating such a one-dimensional world, Tourneur's version eliminates the background that Magua gives in Cooper's novel explaining his present state as the result of his alcoholism, and in particular his captivity of the Munroe sisters as part of his revenge against their father for his punishment (Cooper 119-21). Instead it paints him with the broad brush of savage excess, thereby making captivity an extension of that savagery and nothing else. As such, any attempt to contextualize and explain Magua's actions and attitudes (which coalesce into his captivity of the Munroe sisters) evaporates for the sake of a simplified plot. This movie reflects the rhetoric present elsewhere, as manifest in the stylized poses painted by famous illustrator and artist N. C. Wyeth. At this time, he is producing a series of paintings based on Cooper's novels for the Charles Scribner's Sons reprint series of Coopers work. According to James H. Duff, years of success allow Wyeth to choose any jobs he wishes, and this is the one he wishes (17). Moreover, his reputation

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119 insures the determinacy of his perspective on Cooper (and consequently on images of Native peoples and captivity) as audiences come to view Cooper through Wyeths paintings. Childrens Literature Children are one of the primary audiences for Wyeths work. As such they constitute a potential for determination that could conceivably silence revisionism. Luckily, children also have access to counterarguments, like Herman Lehmann's captivity narrative (1927). It constantly and consistently represents Native people as people to counter reductive images. This humanistic argument echoes those contemporaneous arguments made by Brand and Burroughs, but contrasts markedly with other children's books of the time. Two examples will define what Lehmann's narrative seeks to counter. First, while it claims to correct previous errors in the narrative of the German girls' captivity among the Cheyenne in 1874-75, Grace E. Meredith's Girl Captives of the Cheyennes (1927) relies heavily on the negative stereotypes common in sensationalized narratives, painting their captors as dirty brutes. It also obscures the issue of the girls' probable rapes, as Derounian-Stodola and Leverner argue, by "sanitiz[ing] the story for children" (128). Second, John Gould Fletchers John Smith--Also Pocahontas (1928) dismisses Smith's captivity and forestalled death as merely political maneuvering on Powhatan's part. It explicitly denies Pocahontas' any individual intent in her rescue of Smith, and then invokes such rescues and adoptions as "the universal practice among Indian tribes" before further explaining Smith's rescue as political by citing Ortiz's similar fate (126-27). Fletcher's argument against Smith and Pocahontas is just a single example from the ongoing debate about Smith's narratives. Here, it specifically extracts any humanity from captors and captives.

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120 Into this mlange, Herman Lehmann's narrative appears with its constant representation of captors as human beings and captivity as a complex experience which defies reduction to simple violence or convention. The particular statements that this edition make echo much of what contemporary authors like Brand and Burroughs argue, but they also introduce new elements that further question the legitimacy of racial identity. While this work ends with Lehmanns assertion of gratitude for his familys rescuing him from his captors so that he white again (235), it does offer extended passages privileging his captors and their cultures as fully humancomplete with good and bad elements. Such humanization of his captors underscores his larger agenda for telling his captivity narrative as well as providing effective counterpoints to his editors continual insertion of rhetoric justifying conventional ideologies (as he does in the final sentence). In large part, this metatextual battle echoes a similar struggle raging at this exact time in Hum-ishu-mas novel Cogewa (1927) and informs earlier battles waged by authors like Brand, Burroughs, and Grey against conventional editorial structures. Moreover, the struggles in Lehmanns narrative indicate that the prejudicial forces mustered against revisionist works extend throughout the publishing industry at this time, including adult and childrens literature. Native American Literature Zitkala-Sas American Indian Stories 1921 At the beginning of this decade, Lakota author Zitkala-Sa writes American Indian Stories (1921) also as part of a revisionist strategy. In A Warriors Daughter, she uses captivity in two contrasting ways to redefine standard images of captivity and of gender relations among Native peoples. First, she introduces the protagonists adopted uncle, a

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121 captive who has had his freedom for the past three years but who has chosen to stay as part of Tusees family. He has let his hair grow in the Southern type, since he is a real man again. He dotes on Tusee, and she on him. From this brief, apparently minor set of details we learn of the fluidity of categories that captivity could have among Dakota peoplesand therefore a major indictment of conventional reductive images of captivity. From this apparently minor complication, Zitkala-Sa introduces her more obvious revision of standard captivity imagery by having Tusee rescue her lover from his captors. She has Tusee pray prior to the rescue: Great Spirit, speed me to my lovers rescue! Give me swift cunning for a weapon this night! All-powerful Spirit, grant me my warrior-fathers heart, strong to slay a foe and might to save a friend! (39). As she infiltrates the celebratory throng surrounding her lover, Tusee disguises herself as one of his captors people. She then lures his captor away from the dance and murders him in revenge for the harm he has inflicted on her lover. Having killed his captor, she reenters the now sleeping village disguised as an old woman, which allows her to free her lover from the torture stake. Weakened, he cannot follow her, so she carries him on her back to freedom. In this powerful redefinition of captivity and gender roles, Zitkala-Sa argues for captivity as a universal practice as well as for the power of women to perform dramatic rescues comparable to those performed by men in traditional representations. 10 This story, thereby, argues for equality at several levels, thereby enacting revisionist policies at those levels as well. 10 A growing number of critics recognize and celebrate the power of women warriors among Native tribal societies. For example, see Paula Gunn Allen (1989).

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122 Hum-ishu-mas Cogewa 1927 Critics of Hum-ishu-ma's use of this captivity narrative often ignore the larger contexts with which she is working, particularly in her construction of the tale told by the stemteema. This oversight is a result of the years of denial and denigration practiced by the critical canon that has excluded Native captivity narratives. For example, Martha L. Viehmann's reading of the novel admirably explores the stemteema's tale, as well as the remainder of the novel and its multiple discourses. When writing of the tale, she claims that its function is to illustrate the parallel between the fates of Green-blanket Feet and Cogewa at the hands of unscrupulous Shoyahpee (white men). She further defines McWhorter's editorial additions to this tale as both indicative of his anxiety over Hum-ishu-ma's work and proof of his appreciation of her artistry (214-16). As insightful as her reading of the stemteema's tale is, Viehmann's analysis ultimately reduces it to a cautionary tale which requires Green-blanket Feet to return to her tribal identity. While her conclusion is valid, it also denies the centrality of captivity to this tale. Moreover, it ignores the prodigious body of traditional Native captivity narratives that this version references as well as enacts, translating that tradition to a new medium and audience. We can see this reduction when Viehmann quotes Green-blanket Feet's reasoning for her capture by the Blackfeet: "'Much of this hardship, I think, was because I had chosen a Shoyahpee husband instead of one of my own kind; that my child was half white. The great Spirit must have been displeased with me'" (214). Captivity, than, becomes both a just punishment for Green-blanket Feet's miscegenation and a means for her to reassume her lost tribal identity. Her explanation denies any cultural context for her captivity, and the continual existence of traditions among Native tribal peoples of captivity narratives that validate (particularly) female captives who rescue themselves.

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123 In keeping with captivity narrative traditions among Native peoples, the stemteema intentionally uses captivity to keep Cogewa from her potential fate. She uses captivity both as metaphorical warning of Cogewa's status with Densmore (she will become literally and figuratively his captive) and a potential source of Cogewa's self-redemption from her captivity by Densmore (by modeling certain self-realizable behaviors). In other words, just as countless generations of Native tellers have done before her with other captivity narratives, the stemteema encourages Cogewa to act like Green-blanket Feet and rescue herself from her captivity. In this way, she reenacts a traditional use of captivity narratives by Native peoples--as practical advice and spiritual encouragement for the narratives' female audience. Many Native captivity narratives recount how a resourceful Native woman redeems herself from captivity. Hum-ishu-ma has the stemteema perform this same function here with her captivity narrative. In other words, these narratives and their use by their narrators encouraged women to be active agents in their own rescues, rather than remains a passive object awaiting rescue by others. Thus, Hum-ishu-ma represents a Native tradition about captivity narratives in addition to providing an allegorical boost for Cogewa. The stemteema (and Hum-ishu-ma with her) emerges as doubly wise in her choice of this tale. This dual function of this tale and its tellers emerges only when we consider their use of captivity narratives outside the context of the novel and within the larger context of captivity narratives for and by Native peoples. Moreover, by placing this traditional context before a nontraditional audience, Hum-ishu-ma seeks to demonstrate both the viability of that tradition. She argues for its positive reflection of both Native peoples in

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124 general and of Native women who might have been characterized as hapless victims subject to the patriarchal whims of two races and cultures. In this sense, Hum-ishu-ma uses captivity to free Cogewa and her readers from the literal and figurative captivities that confront them. Support for this reading comes from critics like Dexter Fisher, who reveals the context of Hum-ishu-mas use of folklores in Cogewa In his 1981 introduction to her novel, Fisher reveals how McWhorter pushed Hum-ishu-ma into collecting the folklores as she called them--the traditional tales that he saw as more valuable than any fictional work she might have done (e.g. vii-ix). Given McWhorters heavy-handed editorial additions and maneuverings, we can (as critics do) easily recognize his authorship separate from Hum-ishu-mas. To this point add the centrality of the steemtemmas tale of captivity in contrast to the marginality of McWhorters additions, and we can confidently argue that the addition and use of this captivity narrative is entirely Hum-ishu-mas and reflective of both her individual authorial prowess and her association with traditional uses of captivity narratives. Resourceful Captives in Captivity Narrative Traditions Accounts of strong, resourceful captive women who rescue themselves, usually by plotting an escape and storing supplies before making the return alone, abound. Examples include: "Crow-Dakota Woman" (Deloria 269-71) and the narrative of the Nishga woman captive rescuing herself through her own actions: she escapes her Tsimshian captors, eating groundhogs as she makes her way back to her Kispiox people (MacDonald 125). Further south, we see Apache women who escape their French captors and return to their people in Apacheria (Valverde 234). In his autobiography, Geronimo includes account of Apache women who rescue themselves from their captors

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125 (e.g. Barrett 64-68). Elsewhere, we also see resourceful women captives escaping supernatural captors, as in the Arapaho The Dwarf Who Tried to Catch a Woman" and "The Dwarf Who Caught a Woman," (Dorsey and Kroeber 124-26). Further north, we find three versions of "The Stolen Woman" and two versions of "The Woman Stolen By Lynx" (Cruikshank 70-72, 106, 83-87). The next decade (and chapter) witnesses Pretty-shields accounts of Absaroka captivity and its narrative. As this survey reveals, Hum-ishu-ma continues a centuries-old tradition with her use of captivity in Cogewaa tradition that celebrates the resourcefulness of female captives who rescue themselves and a tradition that will continue throughout this century.

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CHAPTER 4 THE THIRTIES "But between your people and my people, let us never raid along the sea. Cedar-Bough drove her bargain, and I want to drive mine. Will you promise?" Whale-Tooth solemnly promised. And, when these children grew up, there was peace along these coasts for many, many years. --Holling C. Holling, The Book of Indians No Apache wants peace at the price of slavery, unless he has become a coward and is afraid of the pindah-lickoyee. Shoz-Dijiji has the guts of a man. He would rather die on the war-trail than be a reservation Indian. You have not even the guts of a coyote, which snarls and snaps at the hand of his captor and risks death to regain his freedom. --Edgar Rice Burroughs, Apache Devil Where a white girl would have screamedand diedshe did not scream. Where a white girl would futilely have tried to run, she did not run nor waste her thought in wild schemes to escape. The panic was already leaving her. To be kidnapped was no new thing to Apache women, after all. In the old days, raiding enemies were always carrying off some woman. It was a part of the essential hazard of life, and now that it had befallen her, although she knew her great peril, Nalinle found herself growing calm in a sense of fatalism. --Paul Wellman, Broncho Apache In contrast to the Twenties, the Thirties witnesses a significant increase in the production of revisionist works. Some authors, like Max Brand, continue to produce series that intentionally focus reader attention on issues of captivity and identity. Others, like Paul Wellman, offer single efforts. Surprisingly, genres like serials and animation offer extensive revisionism: known for their frequent use of stereotype these genres also produce some very complex metatextual commentary on conventional representations. 126

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127 Fiction In contrast to the Twenties, a sustained dialogue about captivity and Native identity rages in the Thirties. Novels like Holling C. Hollings The Book of Indians (1933) and Paul Wellmans Broncho Apache (1936) offer strong revisionist arguments. Meanwhile, Edgar Rice Burroughs and Max Brand continue to advance their revisionist series. Movies, and particularly serials like Custer's Last Stand (1936), engage conventional representations of captivity and Native identity in sophisticated ways. Comic strips like Garrett Prices White Boy (1933-1936) keep issues of captivity and identity before a large audience. Among those works that revise conventional ideologies through rearticulating captivity and Native identity, Oliver La Farge focuses on contemporary images and redefinitions of captivity, as in his short story Hard Winter, which ran in The Saturday Evening Post (30 December 1933). In part this story indicts the Taos community's exploitation of Indians by having its protagonist, Tall Walker, stay with an anonymous white woman, whose motives seem to be to acquire an Indian lover as a trophy. Plied with alcohol and flattery, Tall Walker decides to stay with her, but then rebels against her demands to perform. The story then reveals that each has taken the other captive metaphorically (87), yet this translation of captivity to a contemporary scene argues that conventional rhetorics uses historicity to fix what is a continuous eventa point authors like Silko will also articulate. Elsewhere, other authors busily advance reformulations of captivity and Native conventions. Edgar Rice Burroughs Apache Devil 1933 That same year that La Farge targets contemporary images of captivity, Edgar Rice Burroughs issues his Apache Devil (1933), which resolves the potential love affair

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128 between ShozDijiji and Wichita. Having realized that they will not love each other romantically, ShozDijiji becomes her devoted friend and savior, rescuing her from Cheetin who plans to capture Wichita, to enslave her as one of his prostitutes (82). This resolution parallels similar developments in Remingtons John Ermine (1904) and Brands works, and as such indicates a general climate that still rejects the idea of miscegenation between red men and white women. In addition, contemporary movies like White Eagle (1932) resolve their fears over miscegenation by revealing that White Eagle (Buck Jones) is not an Indian, but a white man who had been captured and raised by Native peoples in the sort of traditional plot form particularly popular in the Twenties. Such romantic entanglement drives much of this novel, making it less revisionary than the first novel in this series, The War Chief (1927). Yet the novel finally asserts that identity is relative, as dramatized in the exchange between Wichita and ShozDijiji (126). Since these two works represent the only surviving pieces of his revisionist strategy, we cannot know where he might have taken this projected trilogy. Given the passion of his earlier commitment to the project, we can assume that he is using this installment to set up the third which would feature a more radically revisionist position. Unfortunately, we can only note the contrast between Apache Devil and The War Chief and speculate as to Burroughs larger strategy to redefine conventional relationships toward Apache and other Native peoples through his rearticulations of captivity. Max Brands Red Hawk Series, 1934-1935 As mentioned in the chapter on the Twenties, Brand concentrates on a new round of revisionary novels that depend upon captivity-as-communication in the mid Thirties. These are originally some of his serials from Star Western that Popular Publications optioned. Given Brand's contemporary popularity and size of the deal that Popular

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129 Publications males for his work, we can see the market for Brand's fiction, but in particular his rearticulations of captivity narratives, continues to grow. One of the places these factors are most apparent is in his Red Hawk series (1934-35). There, he offers a new concentration of revisionist effort. For example, his novel War Party (1934) parallels his Thunder Moon series in several ways: its focus on a white captive's eventual discovery of his racial identity and return to his original people, its indictment of racist attitudes and actions against red peoples, and its representation of Native peoples as peoples with a vital and valid culture. It even repeats Brand's edicts against whites taking scalps and his fear of whites' bodily sacrifice at ceremonies like the Sun Dance. In these ways, it differs little from the Thunder Moon series of a decade before. However, War Party does differ from his earlier work through its greater emphasis on and representation of Cheyenne (Tsis-tsis-tsas) cultural practices. This novel constantly and consistently represents Cheyenne culture as positive and complicated. Unlike the passing references that dot his Thunder Moon series, here Brand consciously represents that culture in great detail and as central aspects of the plot (e.g. his explanation of Red Hawk's pursuit of the White Horse and of the Blackfoot women's desires to work on the white buffalo robe as an act of sanctification). In this way, Brand uses Red Hawk/Rusty's captivity as a vehicle to further intercultural relations. In doing so, he uses a standard plot line, but, again, uses that as a vehicle for revisionist purposes: he draws in readers who expect formula, and then subverts their expectations, thereby confronting the ideologies driving such formula.

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130 Again, we must wonder as to his final purpose, when he ends this novel as he has the Thunder Moon series, with the white captive reunited with his original, biological family, wedded to a white woman (and thereby dodging the misceginational possibility of marrying Blue Bird here [and Red Wind in the Thunder Moon series, although both women are themselves half-white]). Brand seems to once again invoke captivity-as-communication, but then reinstate race as a construction. However, prior to this ending, he does advance a positive endorsement of Native culture. In doing so, he uses captivity to destabilize the hegemonic codes he seems to invoke by novels end. Similarly Brand's second installment in the series, Frontier Feud (1934), capitalizes on the original formulation of Red Hawk. Here, Brand focuses more on the duel between an antagonist who would steal the White Horse from Red Hawk than he does on revising captivity conventions. But he does spend considerable time again revealing the prejudicial ideologies that limit individuals. When he does introduces captivity, he uses sensationalized images: men, women, and children dancers brandishing knives as they staggered by [Tenney], their skinny breasts heaving so that sometimes the ribs looked empty--a mad, ominous dance, while one boy who can only crawl snakelike toward the captive, his knife clenched in his teeth (175-77). Of course, Brand has Red Hawk save Tenney from this fate, and finally has the two become fast friends. Captivity, then, serves merely as a vehicle to drive the friendship plot along, and not in any revisionary capacity. This use of captivity more in keeping with the sorts of formula fiction that he was doing elsewhere (e.g. Blood on the Trail 1932). Brand's final installment in the Red Hawk series, Cheyenne Gold (1935), focuses more on Red Hawk/Rusty Sabin's inability to reconcile his identity as either white or

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131 Cheyenne, until he ultimately flees to the Rockies seeking the possibility of peace at the novels end (with the benediction for everyone to love one another). In all of this swirling turmoil, Brand uses captivity toward the novel's end to reconcile the plot. He pointedly has Blue Bird and Maisry taken captive at the same time in the plot to compare and contrast their two captivities, and thereby revise expectations of captivity by his readers. First, Brand has Galway, the nefarious gold hungry leader of a band of white renegades, capture Blue Bird as she and Maisry are returning to the Cheyenne to prevent a race war. Galway intends to use her status as a holy woman among the Cheyennes as a passport into the sacred valley which contains the immense golden wealth he seeks. Brand makes the situation of Blue Bird's captivity explicit when he designates her as "a captive Indian (154), thereby arguing that she is not simply a figurative captive. He further argues such captivities of red captives by white captors is unpardonable by placing Blue Bird in the immediate danger of being sexually abused by her captors and then retained as a squaw-concubine. Her status among the Cheyennes, and Galway's recognition of its value as leverage among her people, prevent her from being so treated. Brand then has Maisry captured by the Cheyennes in a situation that both contrasts with Blue Bird's captivity and parallels it. Here Maisry never faces the possibility of rape, only scalping because her captor, Walk-by-Night, covets her exceptionally beautiful hair. In traditional fashion, Brand has Red Hawk appear and rescue her at the moment of her death (164-65). Cheyenne Gold officially ends Brands revisionist works. By this point he has been waging a decade-long of campaign to effect changes in his readers perceptions of

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132 Native peoples and captivity. After this work, however, he focuses more on his traditional cowboy fiction and his Doctor Kildare series. His career ends during World War Ii, as those familiar with his life well know. Less well known are the comments he makes immediately prior to his death, even on the eve of his death, as Hamilton reveals. They bear directly on Brands strategy of revision and his perception of it, so bear repeating here. In a letter, he writes: To revert to the Cosmopolitan [sic]story, the source of this and of all my fiction which has sold (or nearly all) has been an escape from reality. There was perhaps too much reading and too much actual pain in my childhood. It made me build daydreams, bubbles into which I could escape and find a bright and blue and golden world all for me. I denied pain. So in my stories men may start bad but they wind up good. Women are angles and men are heroes. And a certain number of child-minded people, even millions of them, read this brainless drip and like it. (Hamilton 102) Elsewhere, he writes I despise myself for my cowardice in not pursuing his artistic calling rather than a fat income. In another letter, this one to his agent, Brand accusingly asks why he is never allowed to do something except cheese to fit the Colliers market? 102). Perhaps this recognition of his participation in a production with which he was at odds informs his proclivity to erase much of his works revisionism at the conclusions--the same sorts of pressures driving Grey, for example, to cater to images of market demands. Zane Greys The Lost Wagon Train 1932 Into this continuing dialogue of captivity by Burroughs and Brand, Grey also contributes. When compared to the rest of this novel's plot, Grey uses captivity only tangentially in The Lost Wagon Train (1932) as a vehicle to reunite his hero and heroine. Again, as in his other novels, he has the hero rescue the heroine from "a fate worse than death" at the hands of white renegades (even though here Grey tries to complicate the

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133 formula by casting the hero/rescuer as one of these very renegades). Besides this complication, Grey does not overtly use captivity to alter his audience's expectations, with one notable exception. During an otherwise sensationalized attack on a wagon train (complete with the stereotypical rhetoric of red "savagery" and white heroism), he offers one incredibly charged moment of revisionism. There he interjects an indictment of racism and its consequential policies toward native peoples when he focuses on Cynthia's frantic moments prior to her capture. As she listens to the victory cries of the advancing Kiowas, she recognizes it as the concatenated, staccato mingling of hundreds of shrieks, all different, all pitched high to the limit of vocal power, all pealing forth the same note, a monstrous and appalling revenge. This must be the notorious war-cry of the Indians. Cynthia recognized in it the great vengeful cry of a tribe that had been deceived, wronged, robbed, murdered. So Bowden's caravan, and many others as weak, must die for the deeds of white men who had crossed the plains and left havoc in their trails. Cynthia had the strength to peer out through the slit in the canvas door at the rear. The circle enclosed by the white-tented wagons appeared as light as day. Slim, nimble dark forms were darting here, there, everywhere. Savages! She clutched the flaps to keep from sliding out of the door. And for the time being she was so paralyzed with a new and mortal fright that she could only gaze with magnifying eyes. (75) Here Grey indicts both sides for their blind hatred and its consequential devastation. This insertion redefines what would otherwise have been a stereotypical scene. Positioned as it is in the very midst of such a scene, Grey signals to readers alert to such language, and to those who except stereotypical language and thinking, that captivity and murder by Native peoples is not simply the consequence of racial inferiority or savagery, but events in a complicated history of interracial antagonism, here clearly laid at the feet of white aggressors.

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134 More specifically, readers come to occupy a position analogous to Cynthia's: they are helpless before the onslaught precipitated by racist rhetoric and actions. Like her, they have "the strength to peer out through the slit" we have at this scene. Like her, they are surrounded by images of "nimble dark forms . darting here, there, everywhere. Savages!" But because of the way in which Grey redefines this scene through his indictment of white aggression, we come to see the scene as Cynthia sees it: we "gaze with magnifying eyes" on the actual causes of the wagon's attack, and by extension other constructions of red violence against white subjects. This magnification occurs only through the recoding of the dominant discourse, a revision made possible through Grey's use of captivity. Cynthia becomes more than another cipher in an endless string of helpless white victims to red aggression; instead, she becomes a conduit for potential change to the very causes that imperil her in this scene and perpetuate other similar scenes elsewhere. Paul Wellmans Broncho Apache 1936 In the same year that Treachery Rides the Range is offers its contrasting revisionist rhetoric and Last of the Mohicans its reductive rhetoric, Paul I. Wellman offers an extensive and explicit revisionist argument in his Broncho Apache (1936). There, Wellman casts Massai, and his traditional Apache resistance to white ways, in a consistently positive light. Not only does he introduce and explain Apache concepts and vocabulary throughout the novel, he also vindicates the concept of formerly pronounced renegades as freedom fighters, tenaciously clinging to and living their traditional values. He foregrounds this intent in the conclusion of his Foreword: But before we offhandedly catalogue Massai as a murderer, a rapist, a thief, and a terrorist, it might be well to consider that he was not a civilized man but a primitive man, with a primitive approach to many assumptions which we of the civilized

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135 world long ago have pigeonholed as settled and axiomatic. He was an Apache: a rimrock Apache. And he was never false to his Apache tradition, save at times when he spared, where the forthright Apache code might not have spared. Viewed thus he is a personality not unsympathetic. In the final analysis Massais sin was that he was a rebel. And if in this sense he was a criminal, so was George Washington a criminal, and Robert E. Lee, and Joan of Arc, and all the hallowed men and women of history who have been rebels, fighting according to their standards, for that in which they believed. Of them all, Massai the Apache was not the least consistent to such ideals as he possessed. (7) From this initial pronouncement, Wellman proceeds to represent Massais life as it may have unfolded. In doing so, he uses references to captivity in three crucial ways. First, he characterizes Massais imprisonment as a period of captivity, his escape and subsequent campaign continue the narrative of that captivity. As such, Wellman invokes similar captivity narratives by leaders like Geronimo and Silko in her Almanac of the Dead (1992). Second, he has Massai project the rhetoric of captivity onto a prisoner of Mexican soldiers, thereby providing Massai an opportunity to comment on the standards of that rhetoric (157). Finally, and most importantly to his novel, Wellman contrasts Massais capture and treatment of his two female captives, Izoki and Nalinle, the latter proving the domesticating influence Massai needs to prevent him from becoming completely broncho. He first has Massai capture Izoki, an attractive Apache woman married to an aged husband who craves greater sexual freedom. When Massai first appears before her, she fears for her safety, given Massais reputation and appearance. Then, she begins to realize the possibilities inherent in her captivity: And on Izoki there was a dawning sense of fate impending. She saw in advance what was likely to happen. There was nothing she could do about it. And behind her thought that she did not care much if it did happen. Life with Miguel Sayes promised nothing but dreary monotony of which she was sick. This promised change at least. (126)

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136 Here, her reactions and assessment of her situation parallel those of characters found in the Yellow Woman traditions. In doing so, Wellman introduces a female captive who eschews the role of passive victim to a male aggressor. However, this particular character does not realize the full extent of her potentially new role. She does not consider Massais moodiness and soon resents the absolute isolation imposed by his lifestyle. Moreover, she realizes that Massai captured her as an act of vengeance against his tribe, not because he found her particularly attractive. In revenge, she destroys their camp and plots to lead authorities to Massai so that she can collect the reward. Fleeing, she heads for what she believes to be a nearby Apache camp, only to discover that it is a ruse to force her hand. Massai exacts a punishment for her running away by slicing the tendons connecting her feet to her legs, thereby causing her to drown herself in the nearby river. Thus, Izokis captivity narrative ends with her suicide, but the lesson it teaches recurs during Nalinles captivity. After Massai has taken Nalinle deep into Mexico, he tells her Izokis fate and its cause (212). In response, she vows not to try to escapea pledge she keeps, even following him when he decides to leave. This contrast between Izoki and Nalinles responses to their captivity defines the essential difference between the two characters. It also represents the inability of captivity to be reduced to a set of standardized images, since each captivity differs through its own circumstances. Nalinles captivity narrative forms the third and final part of Wellmans novel. He even entitles it Nalinle to emphasize her centrality to the story. In contrast, Remington and Miles represent her as an ambiguous figure who reappears only briefly. To the bare facts Remington and Miles had supplied, Wellman adds details that cause readers to

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137 realize her as a whole person, central to the plot, and whose captivity informs both the plot and the revisionist concepts of captivity that Wellman is advancing. Wellman has Massai capture Nalinle, killing her mother in the process, as part of his larger scheme to exact vengeance from Santos for his having betrayed Massai to the authorities. To this he adds the faint recognition on Massais part of the romantic interest he has had in her since he first saw her that fateful day. Throughout her captivity, Wellman nurtures this recognition until Massai and Nalinle fall in love. By so doing, Wellman allows Massais misogyny (135) to become tempered and tamed, ending finally in the broncho Apaches dramatic conversion into a somewhat domesticated partner for Nalinle. In addition to this contrast, Wellman creates a marked contrast between Nalinles reaction to her impending captivity and that of white women: Where a white girl would have screamedand diedshe did not scream. Where a white girl would futilely have tried to run, she did not run nor waste her thought in wild schemes to escape. The panic was already leaving her. To be kidnapped was no new thing to Apache women, after all. In the old days, raiding enemies were always carrying off some woman. It was a part of the essential hazard of life, and now that it had befallen her, although she knew her great peril, Nalinle found herself growing calm in a sense of fatalism. (92-92) By so doing, Wellman underscores the ways in which racial categorizations of captivity determine the fates of actual captives. If white girls had access to models like that of Yellow Woman, or the numerous, anonymous figures Nalinle follows here, they would not necessarily suffer death because of their narrow conceptions of the fate for white women captives. In this way Wellman invokes the didactic function of many Native captivity narratives while simultaneously indicting the very basis for reductive, standardized images of captivity for the ways in which they lead to their holders' literal and figurative deaths. Finally, Wellman does not have Nalinle suffer the fate of outcast, nor does he have her modify her story to fit expectations like Yellow Woman figure in

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138 Silko's stories. Instead he has Massai whisk her away to an unknown world in which they can raise their family and find romance. Captivity provides opportunity for Nalinle and conversion for Massai (222). Movies Current Context In general, this decades movies are far less innovative in their revision of captivity and Native identity than are the serials. In fact, many of these movies ( Stagecoach 1939) explicitly work to establish the validity of conventional rhetoric. This decades movies begin with The Big Trail (1930), which receives most of its reputation from its association with John Wayne and his singing scenes. However, it profiles Native peoples as essentially positive, particularly in the scene where the Native warriors surround Wayne and Marguerite Churchill and prove they are friends not foes. While this notorious epic is representing Native peoples in a positive light, another movie is offering a more innovative revisionist approach. Whoopee! takes captivity as one of its strongest points of departure from the standard rhetoric it so pointedly counters. Whoopee !, 1930 In one of the first two-color Technicolor movies, Flo Ziegfield and Thornton Freeland transplant the 1928 Broadway hit virtually intact to the big screen. Sprinkled among Eddie Cantor's vaudevillian wit is a scene in which he (as Henry Williams the protagonist) is captured by a group of Indians. Once he is led to their camp, he vows to Black Eagle (Chief Caupolican) that he will live in peace with all peoples. They smoke a peace pipe in an extended farcical scene, indicting similar scenes in which solemn interracial agreements are reached. Moreover, Cantor purposefully indicts his own captivity as well as standard images of captivity, as he continues his verbal play with

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139 Black Eagle. The scene ends with Cantor begging Black Eagle to tell him the truth about Pocahontas and John Smith, assuring him that he is mature enough to hear the details, but then interrupting Black Eagle to prevent any intimate details, saying that he reads True Adventure Stories Subtle though it is, this scene targets popular media that promote sensationalist images (and the expectations that they generate) from standard captivity narrative rhetoric. The truth about this captivity, as Cantor argues, is obscured by that rhetoric. Moreover, this scene encourages viewers to consider an alternative version of the Smith-Pocahontas captivity, which further indicts the propagandistic uses this captivity (and by extension others) has suffered throughout the past centuries. Later this decade, Warner Brothers animators will similarly indict Smith's captivity and captivity itself, as illustrated in this studys introduction. This repetition indicates a willingness on audience's part to entertain alternative versions of this primary captivity narrative as well as captivity narratives in general, here validated by the success of both the stage and screen versions of Whoopee!s indictment. In contrast, The Silent Enemy (1930), recreates the PreContact Ojibwa world on an epic scale. As Brownlow chronicles the movies production and distribution, it fails at the box-office due to a combination of competition from talkies and the block-booking system which forced exhibitors to take it as just another Paramount picture, and denying it the specialized treatment it demanded. This movie also marks the virtual end of large-scale documentary movies about Indians in this decade (559-60). However, audiences continue to accept revisionist representations of captivity. Serials and epic celebrations of captivity abound, many with revisionist impulses embedded in their dominant,

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140 reductive rhetoric. As feature movies like Cimarron (1931) indicate, general audiences readily accept works that counter conventional ideologies and representations. Serials Serials demonstrate the entire range of representative possibilities. Some simply invoke conventional images. Early in the decade chapter plays like The Lightning Warrior (1931) and Fighting with Kit Carson (1933) rely on a devious white mastermind instigating trouble between settlers and Natives: in the former, the Wolf Man (Frank Brownlee) leads a tribe of whites impersonating Indians; in the latter, Kraft (Noah Beery, Sr.) leads the Mystery Riders, another band of renegade whites. B-Westerns like Ride, Ranger, Ride (1936) feature the same constellation of renegade whites masterminding a group of red savages for his own greed, but unlike many other such movies its racist rhetoric is explicit and unrelenting throughout. Mascot also invokes such a plot device in The Miracle Rider (1935), Tom Mixs last serial, but within the context of a more outspoken opposition to such depredation. Unlike other contemporaries (e.g. Custer's Last Stand and Treachery Rides the Range both 1936), this serial never uses captivity in innovative ways, instead using it only as a means for satisfying juvenile fantasies of rescuing adults (as in Susannah of the Mounties 1939) when Frankie Darro rescues George Brent. In this way it fails to link its revisionist impulses explicitly stated in the opening with its larger representations of Native peoples and captivity. Similarly, popular stars like The Three Mesquiteers (Ray Corrigan, Bob Livingston, and Max Terhune) resort to sensationalized images of captivity in Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937) when Otah (Yakima Canutt) captures and binds Stony (Livingston) to a cross like torture pole before an avalanche approaches. Finally, Daniel Boone (1936) offers conventional images of captives overwhelming their

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141 childish captors through tricks like Boones swallowing a knife as part of a larger rhetoric demarcating racial identity. In such cases, captivity illustrates the retention of barbaric customs, which, the movie informs audiences, intrepid Anglo adventurers can easily overcome through superior intellect and belief in their own superiority. However, such conventional sensationalism does not determine all serial uses of captivity, as the following examples reveal. The Lightning Warrior 1931 The 1931 Mascot serial The Lightning Warrior presents another example of the ways in which critical boundaries have excluded potential resources. The Lightning Warrior includes most of the standard plot devices typical of serial Westerns from the 1930s: birth-mystery plots, child protagonists, secret agents, mysterious and nefarious villains in disguise, and of course plenty of plot twists. As do other contemporary movies (e.g., The Telegraph Trail 1933), it also uses a standard plot device of casting Native Americans as anonymous pawns manipulated by a greedy, evil white villain. But in doing so, it also distinguishes itself from its contemporaries by allowing these pawns to momentarily emerge as sentient beings capable of their own decisions. In its use of captivity The Lightning Warrior reveals how it is able to rearticulate stereotypes and their potential responses to alter audience expectations toward revisionist perspectives. Captivity provides the means for doing so. The warriors who capture Dianne (Georgia Hale) and Lafarge (Simon Lorca), appear to be renegades led by Indian George (Frank Lanning), who is constantly spying and skulking throughout the serial. However, audiences learn in the last chapter that Indian George had captured them only to protect them from The Wolfman who would have captured and killed them. In this way The Lightning Warrior first invokes captivity in its conventional terms of red-on

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142 white violence only to reveal that it, like the supposed threat of an all-out Indian war form the Yoktawas, is the product of white manipulation of prior racist rhetorics. Such deliberately revisionist scene contrast sharply with the conventional rhetoric opening the serial (a white family besieged in its cabin assaulted by drums) and other scenes, as the protracted captivity LaFarge endures Chapter 7, The Ordeal of Fire. Moreover, this scene provides youthful sidekick Jimmy (Frankie Darro) a chance to rescue LaFarge, thereby proving his centrality and capability to the plota standard device used by Westerns that play to mixed adult and childrens audiences. In this sense, this chapters use of captivity indicates certain ambivalences in 1930s representations of Native peoples. As with Garrett Prices comic strip White Boy audience responses and the perceptions by those creating strips and serials articulate similar attitudes. Price could not maintain his use of captivity-as-communication and The Lightning Warrior cannot fully erase its earlier use of a stereotyped captivity scene. Instead, it switches the focus from captivity-as-violence to captivity-as-contrast, only to then have these noble savages fade away like the good little colonial pawns they are in this serial. Custer's Last Stand 1936 Fairly predictable in plot, the serial Custer's Last Stand (1936) does use captivity in surprisingly revisionist ways. It never uses captivity to represent red captors as savages overwhelmed with lust (as say in the 1936 version of The Last of the Mohicans or The Lightning Warrior 1935). Instead, it uses captivity as a means for gathering information within the plot or for comic relief. The former use predominates as most of the instances of captivity in the series have the captors taking the captive to learn the location of The Sacred Arrow. Each instance differs in its focus and effect relative to the plot; as such

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143 the serial may seem disjointed in its overall rearticulation of captivity. However, this very dissonance expresses the variety of captivities possible, and therefore advances this notion of individuality in its very essence through its diversity of captivity experiences. Four instances of captivity in this serial reveal its revisionist impulses. In the first instance, Red Fawn (Dorothy Gulliver) and Barbara (Nancy Caswell) begin a relationship of mutuality while Young Wolf (Chief Thundercloud) holds Barbara captive in the Lakota village. This relationship invokes this serials emphasis on captivitys communicative possibilities. The second instance portrays Sitting Bull take a white whiskey runner captive so that he cannot degrade his tribe any longer. The third instance begins when the villagers capture Bobby (Bobby Nelson) and Buzz (Marty Joyce) who are seeking The Sacred Arrow in the Dakota village and ends with Bobby's escape and Buzz's characteristic hyperbolic harangue of his captors for their actions. This captivity then degenerates in to the stereotypical when Buzz becomes the imminent victim of some quasi-Mesoamerican sun sacrifice, from which Kit (Rex Lease) rescues him. The fourth instance occurs when Young Wolf captures Kit and subjects him to a "Ghost Dance" test by blindfolding him and then having him fall from a cliff. The scene of Young Wolf and his warriors buffeting Kit in a weird version of blind-man's bluff approaches the savagery of stereotypical captivity, as the warriors whoop and dance around him brandishing tomahawks. This constant competition between conventional and revisionist images informs how this serial (and others like it) problematizes the conventional codes claims for hegemony. In other words, the existence of mutually exclusive representations reinforces the idea that captivity is a multi-dimensional experience, not simply one extreme of a

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144 binary. Moreover, the larger emphasis on captivity-as-communication erases the determinative power of instances like the last one. Together these instances articulate a greater range of possibility for captivity and Native identity than the more conventional treatments in contemporary Western serials like The Lightning Warrio r (1931), Fighting With Kit Carson (Mascot,1933), and The Miracle Rider (1935). This serial emphasizes the relativism of its captivities with regard to a larger plot focus on the mistreatment of Native peoples. Captivity then becomes the means for both advancing a relativistic argument as well as indicting the forces that perpetuate reductive rhetorics of captivity and identity. While these serials are promoting revisionist perspectives on captivity and Native American identity, movies are also arguing some of the same points. As we saw in the previous chapter, Laughing Boy (1934) offers a positive endorsement of Native American identity and self determination, though it erases any references to captivity in La Farges original novel. Other movies also adopt a similarly revisionist rhetoric. Annie Oakley (1935), for example, directly confronts stereotypes through the exaggerated antics of Sitting Bull (Chief Thunderbird). Captivity does not explicitly appear here, but inferences to it and stereotypical violence do. Treachery Rides the Range 1936 However, innovations on captivity were not confined to the serials. More mainstream Westerns like Treachery Rides the Range (1936) also offer reformulations of captivity as part of larger agenda for ending prejudices against Native peoples and reductive histories of Western events. This movie stars Dick Foran, the famous singing cowboy, as Cpt. Taylor, an army officer who takes seriously his responsibility to protect the last remaining buffalo herds. In fact, this responsibility to honor the treaty with the

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145 Cheyenne and protect their last buffalo herd permeates the movie, from the opening credits to movie's final resolution. This aspect also defines this movie as one advocating revisionist attitudes toward Native. Captivity serves as a vehicle for these larger social issues. This movie uses captivity in two revisionary ways: first, it has the Cheyenne take Ruth (Paula Stone) captive during a revenge raid precipitated by ruthless buffalo hunters who have manufactured a potential war to allow them to slaughter the tribe's remaining herd. As Chief Red Snake (famous Olympian Jim Thorpe) explains, she will be tortured to death in revenge for his murdered son. Captured while trying to rescue Ruth, Taylor then bargains with Chief Red Snake on the basis of their past trust that he will discover the real murderers while accompanied with a bodyguard of Cheyenne warriors. The unscrupulous buffalo hunters then capture this party, with the lurid promise that they will torture and kill these red captives along with Taylor: "You know what happens when Indians catch a white man. Well, we're going to have us a little Injun fun," one character explains. However, the unexpected appearance of a buffalo herd prompts the hunters to postpone their "fun." Meanwhile, the captives escape and help capture the hunters, thereby restoring the peace between the tribe and the Army. As this brief description reveals, captivity functions as a negative commentary upon ruthless whites, and a positive commentary upon noble reds. Ruth's captivity is a byproduct of the raid, not its main focus. Her death will balance the moral and spiritual scales unbalanced by the Chief's son's murder. In this respect, the captive could have been anyone. However, since it is the female protagonist, it requires the male protagonist to rescue her. At this point, the movie offers

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146 the standard plot devices of superlative plainsman rescuing helpless white female captive as a possible solution, but then as quickly dismisses it for a more innovative and revisionist solution. By having Taylor and his assistant captured by the captors from whom they were attempting to rescue Ruth, the movie denies the legitimacy of this method and substitutes a solution based on trust and communication--which does succeed in rescuing Ruth. In direct contrast to this solution, the movie then portrays how ruthless whites can exact captivity far worse than that suffered by the white captives in this movie. This captivity and its violence are precipitated by racist attitudes towards Native peoples. These captors delight in the prospect of exceeding the stereotypical actions ascribed to red captors, and explicitly define their captivity violence as excessive. In contrast to Treachery Rides the Range other major movies at this time invoke standard, reductive rhetoric in their constructions. For example, DeMille's The Plainsman (1937) has a protracted scene in which Wild Bill Hickock (Gary Cooper) stoically resists his captors' torture. DeMille begins this sequence by having Calamity Jane (Jean Arthur) captured while sacrificing herself for Buffalo Bills pregnant wife--a heroic act negated by the Cheyennes menacing closure on Jane before taking her away. This erasure of Janes ability to negotiate captivity defines DeMilles typical response toward female captives in general. Here, he further negates her action by featuring her bound by her captors and marched toward their camp. At this point he has Hickock enter to rescue her, but Hickock is also captured in his own attempts to negotiate Janes release from her Cheyenne captors. At the Cheyenne village, their captors spread-eagle Hickock onto a frame over a large fire when he refuses to reveal the troop movements that he needs to plan a successful ambush; Jane watches helplessly. Her torture by extension is

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147 part of the chief captors plan to force her to reveal the troop movements. When Jean Arthur capitulates with their captors to save his life, Cooper absolutely denies any future relationship with her because of her action, finally seeking death because of her dishonor. This sequence represents captivity as reinforcing and revealing a gendered difference: males can and will accept violent torture by captors while females cannot. This sequence also reinforces and reveals a racial difference between reds that capture and torture and whites who do not--captivity further modifying the red savagery. DeMille also produces Union Pacific (1939) with its protracted scene of the three friends (Barbara Stanwyck, Joel McCrea, and Robert Preston) choosing death over a fate worse than death, after Stanwyck has begged McCrea not to let them take her alive and allowed him to almost kill her while she says her prayers. These sequences can easily serve as generalized representations of negative captivity images. Similar images continue throughout this decade, as anyone familiar with Stagecoach (1939) knows. There Ford uses his Apache threat throughout the movie before climaxing this threat in the famous stagecoach chase scene. There, too, Ford articulates the most sensational reference to captivity in the movie when he has Hatfield (John Carradine) adopt a higher morality by saving his last bullet for Mrs. Mallory (Louise Pratt). Ford heightens the sense of impending doom for her by showing us Hatfield's last bullet and his decision to shoot her to prevent her falling into the Apache warriors' hands. This scene draws on the time-worn clich that death is preferable to captivity, especially for white women. Of course, Hatfield does not have to "rescue" Mallory from her impending captivity because of the cavalry's prompt arrival. But such articulations of captivity send a formidable challenge for revisionists to counter.

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148 Movies other than Westerns from this period invoke captivity, most often in stereotypical terms. For example, Cecil B. DeMilles epic The Crusades (1935) offers constant references to Christians as captives of dark Muslim Others--elaborate scenes of selling captives in the market, Loretta Young becoming Salidan's captive literally and figuratively, then all captives being released through peace negotiations. Given the Christian identity of this movie, the reference to captivity is probably more Biblical than derivative from images of Native peoples, but these two representations of captivity coincide at many places, as critics have argued before. A year later, I Was a Captive of Nazi Germany (1936) appears, relying on its sensationalist use of captivity. Moreover, movies like DeMilles Cleopatra (1934) reference conventional images of captivity, as when the soldiers bring Cleopatra to the desert and are about to bind her to the stake. As this survey reveals, the greatest number of revisions of captivity and Native identity occur in the serials of this time. Childrens Literature Stewart Edward Whites The Long Rifle 1930 Given Whites early, innovative reformulation of captivity conventions, we might be surprised to see him tending more toward conventional images in his later work for children The Long Rifle (1930). However much he may tend toward convention, White counters any wholesale slide into negative imagery by profiling red-or-red captivity. When the Assiniboins attack the Blackfoot village, White has them raise a devilish outbreak of shrieks, cries, yells, and whoops as they fire into the sleeping village (302). This metaphor (devilish) emphasizes the distinction between the two tribes relative to the novels plot by casting the attackers (Assiniboins) as devils and the Blackfeet as victims of their savagery. As such, captivity defines community. It continues this

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149 message when the story is serialized in The Saturday Evening Post (The Mountain Man, 7 February 1931 and The White Buffalo, 21 March 1931). Moreover, when this novel appears on television as The Saga of Andy Burnett (1957-1958) a six-part miniseries running during Disneylands (before it became Walt Disney Presents then Walt Disneys Wonderful World of Color then Walt Disney ) fourth season, it maintains this basic division. It does emphasize the Blackfoots humanity, particularly in the episode The Old Corral, in which the party tries to establish alliances among the Blackfoot. Andy and Crane comment on how hard it is to see them as savages as they watch them play. As such, Whites use of captivity here is determinative and derivative when we compare his novels plot with the television series. After he shoots a white buffalo, Andy encounters a band of Blackfoot warriors who capture him and return him to the cabin that he, Joe, and Kelly share only to find them captives as well. The Blackfeet debate the three trappers fate: they are conflicted because Andy enjoys an elevated status among the tribe but he is also a member of the part poaching on Blackfeet land. While held captive in their own cabin, two Blackfeet Kiasax and Not-o-k-man befriend them after Andy rescues their son from drowning. His rescue adds another wrinkle to the debate that rages over their fate. Then one night, the three trappers escape when aided by Kiasax and Not-o-k-man. While they flee they witness a surprise attack on the Blackfoot village gathered around their cabin. When an Assiniboin war chief threatens Not-o-k-mans life, Andy shoots him from a great distance then joins the Blackfeet defense eventually tipping the odds in their favor. Recognizing his contribution, the Blackfeet adopt Andy and his partners, naming him I-tam-api (Happiness) and installing him as a chief. From this point on the three trappers

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150 prosper from their association with the Blackfeet until the final bloody confrontation when all save Andy die as a new generation of trappers takes possession of the Blackfoot lands and Andy heads Westward to California. As we can see from this synopsis, Whites use of captivity continues a standard line, which is surprising given his work in The Girl Who Got Rattled and Daniel Boone This line provides a basis against which revisionists like Holling C Holling works but it also provides recontextualization of such standards by revealing the complexities of captivity encountered by captorsthereby preventing captivity from being simply an act of violence performed by savages. Holling C. Hollings The Book of Indians ,1935 Famed children's author Holling C. Holling ends his ethnographic survey The Book of Indians (1935) with the realities and possibilities of captivity. He fashions his book to focus on four major divisions of North American Indian life with a repeated focus on the experiences of representative children from each division. He chooses to end this book specifically focused on the possibility of intertribal peace possible from captivity. There, Holling constructs the stage so that a Northwest Coastal child's father takes five captives during a revenge raid on a neighboring tribe. Holling explains in detail how these captives would become the captor's family slaves, performing the menial tasks that prevent them from pursuing more economically profitable work like weaving and carving. He also interjects a pragmatic justification for captivity when he writes: The captives were sorrowful at first and grumbled. But this new village was really much better than their own. Besides, there were other captives, from other tribes, in neighboring houses, and when they had forgotten the noise of that awful battle, they settled down to enjoy themselves as best they could. At any rate, they would not have to work any harder than they had always worked. (102) From this rationalization, Holling then pointedly shifts his focus to the individual captive children, a boy Whale-Tooth and a girl Cedar-Bough. They become fast friends

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151 with Raven, their captor's son, who asks his father for the captive-slaves and receives them. Holling focuses on the two boys accompanying a whaling hunt, and then shifts the politics of captivity. To reintroduce this issue, Holling has Raven ask his father why captives never try to escape and why even captives are taken. His father first explains that escaped captives were recaptured by neighboring tribes and subjected to worse slavery than they had among his people. He then informs Raven that he conducted this raid on the captives' village because long ago those people had raided his father's village, killing him in turn. "It is kill or be killed. I have taken scalp for scalp. I have taken captives. It has always been thus, and there will never be a change. You will understand, when you are a man. War is war" (116). Holling then shifts to Cedar-Bough's foraging for berries a means of testing Raven's father's explanations. of captivity. There he has her explore the possibility for escape, but he has her realize that the woods were too formidable. Meanwhile, she discovers an incredibly large copper nugget. Realizing the economic potential for such a find, she returns to the village and approaches Raven's father with a proposition: she will trade the nugget for the five captives and their safe return. She repeatedly tells raven's father she will die at the torture stake rather than betray the nugget's location. Her open defiance warrants the chief's agreement. On the return journey, Raven promises to remain friends forever with the two former captives. This positive ending reinforces the possibilities inherent in captivity experiences. Two examples from this time indicate the high level of conventional rhetoric that authors like Holling must counter in his work. The first of these examples negotiates the boundaries between adult and childrens literature in ways that inform those discursive practices of erasure in the name of appropriate materials for audiences. In his definitive

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152 biography Daniel Boone: Master of the Wilderness (1939), John Bakeless unabashedly celebrates Boone's life as part of a nationalist rhetoric. He does occasionally temper that rhetoric with balanced endorsements of Native peoples, but for the most part casts them as adversarial and violent opponents to Boones (and by extension, U.S. national) enterprise. When he does explore captivity, it is negatively, as in his description of Boone's son James' captivity and torture: The Indians settled quietly down to a little enjoyable relaxation before proceeding on their journey. The two boys, helpless with their wounds, were unable to move. The Indians had a great deal of fun torturing them to death. There was no time for a formal burning at the stake, but they did pretty well with their knives. (70-71) Bakeless continues describing how James pleads in vain for mercy. As sensational as this propaganda is, it indicates Bakeless' general perspective toward Native peoples. When Disney produces Boone's life for its Disneyland episodes in 1960, they omit this scene but retain the general tone of negativity and conventional imagery. Similarly, the Shirley Temple Western Susannah of the Mounties (1939) reinforces a slough of stereotypes about Native peoples--from their mental inferiority to whites to their desire for massacring white settlers to their sexist culture. One of the primary means it uses is through captivity. In this fantasy for children, Temple rescues Randolph Scott from their captors by openly defying them. Scott had charged Temple early on to have courage whenever she was afraid, and face down her fears. In this scene, replete with savage dancing and Scott's being bound to a tree in preparation to his burning at the stake, Temple openly confronts their captors and thereby rescues both of them. Her success reinforces the movie's message about courage in the face of adversity, and thereby underscores its didactic message, but it also underscores the stereotypes which predicate such behavior.

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153 The Three Stooges Back to the Woods 1937 In contrast to these two examples, The Three Stooges Back to the Woods (1937) manifests the indeterminacy many revisionist works use through its complex collection of revisionist and conventional references. Its resolution hints at this shorts orientation toward the redemptive possibility of parody noted in the introduction. It initially counters this reductivism, not by simply inverting conventional images for parodic effect, but by problematizing the convention itself. However, it finally fails to deliver on this promise. Back to the Woods (1937) uses captivity ostensibly to redeem the Stooges past mistakes within this Colonial plot, then reinforces the conventions it parodies, before finally abruptly ending the narrative to resolve this internal conflictliterally the Stooges flee the scene and the complex of competing possibilities in the final scene. However, prior to their flight, The Stooges invoke and counter many conventional images of Native identity and captivity. Most notably, The Stooges demonstrate this mechanism through Larrys captivity. The Indian warrior who claims Larry as his captive, is more interested in Larrys clothing than Larry. He swaps his buckskins for Larrys English suit. From this initial foray into redefinition of captivity conventions, the short hastily retreats. Larry appears as a typical captive, bound to a tree surrounded by a ring of howling Indian dancers who flourish weapons. One scene focuses on Larrys face and his reaction as a tomahawk blade slides along his throat. The warriors dance in an exaggerated fashion. Then a grackle alights on Larrys head and begins to pull out some of his hair, much to Larrys exaggerated horror. He cries Moe! Curly! Whats happening? This instance of Larrys captivity potentially indicates how this Stooge short could revise captivity conventions: by invoking those conventions, and asking the audience to

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154 comment upon them through their excesses. By having Larry unable to see who his torturer is or what torture he is inflicting, this scene emphasizes how the convention can blind its participants (and audience) to the reality of the situation. Convention dictates a warrior as torturer, not a bird. This substitution transforms Larrys scalping into a parodic commentary on conventional torture scenes: the victim is unaware, while the audience sees everything. This reconfiguration empowers the audience to see and know what really happens relative to the construction. Predictably, Moe and Curly come to Larrys rescue. In the process, they parody the rescuer image form conventional representations by impersonating the warriors dancing around Larry. Such a scene recalls similar instances from other contemporaries (like The Lightning Warrior 1931) and in other Stooge shorts (like Whoops! Im an Indian 1936) in which the white rescuer impersonates the red dancer to rescue a captive. This parallel underscores how Back to the Woods engages conventional representations at many levels, much as contemporaries like Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938) will. Comics Comic strips in the Thirties explore issues of Native identity, but mostly follow predictable patterns. For example, Big Chief Wahoo (1936) and Little Joe (1933-1959) feature a wide variety of stock Native characters generally falling along the noble/ignoble savage line wit plenty of comedy along the way. Eagle Scout Roy Powers similarly uses stock characters, but also engages images of captivity initially when it has its main characters taken captive by a tribe of as-yet-undiscovered Indians. Here, the stereotypes of captivity become ambiguous, as the tribe wishes to keep the heroes captives so that they might protect their anonymity from the outside world. Only after Powers rescues the chief's daughter, does the tribe grant them their freedom. Such brief summaries

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155 indicate the ways that these strips do not explore complexities of Native identity or of captivity, but instead rely heavily upon stereotypical representations. However, one strip, White Boy (1933-1936) inaugurates a concerted campaign to explore those complexities. Garrett Price, who begins his strip White Boy one week after Little Joe debuted, takes no such easy resolution until forced to do so by his syndication's boss. In fact, Price suspends any definitive statements on captivity for an extended time, thereby allowing his characters several opportunities to explore various cultural situations. By so doing, Price encourages readers of this popular strip to question their own and other constructions of captivity and Native identity. The protagonists and strips name--white boy--foreground racial identity and hybridize conventional notions by maintaining the protagonists anonymity for a racial demarcation. Race, and its revision, then becomes the strips central theme: captivity becomes its primary means in doing so. In this (Prices) initial formulation, captivity provides his protagonist a means to realize a deeper understanding and experience with Native American culture and peoples. However, this positive endorsement ends with Prices syndicate bosss command that the strip need to become an endorsement of contemporary dude ranches. White Boy becomes Bob White; Chickadee, Dorris Hale. Their contemporary Anglocization forestalls any revisionist possibilities. Price reluctantly continues the strip for a while, then leaves comics altogether to pursue a career as a book illustrator and painter--a victim of dominant rhetorics that demand conformity to conventional images of captivity. Native American Literature Despite the broad range of examples from popular media that we have seen above, few examples occur of Native American literary uses of captivity occur in this decade. One notable exception is Frank Lindermans biography of the Absaroka medicine woman

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156 Pretty-shield (1932). This as-told-to biography provides an incredible variety of traditional captivity practices. Moreover, this as-told-to biography is much less contrived than Geronimos and so provides a more accurate representation of captivity among traditional Absaroka clans. Finally, it continues the tradition of resourceful women who rescue themselves from their captors, as we saw in the last chapter. For example, Pretty-shield relates how her father takes a Lakota woman captive: originally a slave, she comes to love and marry her owner, whom she refuses to leave when her Lakota husband comes to get her after peace is declared between the two tribes (44-45). Such brief vignettes inform the huge range of complexities of captivityhere, its traditional Absaroka practices and its narrative. Similar glimpses into comparable complexities occur with other references to captive sand slaves in Pretty-shields narrative (e.g. 123,173). However, what most distinguishes Pretty-shields accounts of captivity are her longer narratives. They cover a wide range of possibilities from Red Womans own capture and her captivity of a young man (55-64) to Pretty-shield and her mothers fear of being captured by Lakotas (169), to her aunts captivity which she only references (183). This range of captivities (from supernatural to actual) informs the basic principle demonstrated in Pretty-shields narratives of captivity: captivity-is-complexity. Here we also see stories of resourceful women captives who manage to escape and return to their original people, as in the brief captivity narrative of One-woman (123-25) and the longer captivity narrative of an anonymous woman who escapes with her daughter and receives aid from spirit helpers (183-95). Here we also see women who rediscover themselves through their captivities, as Feather-womans captivity narrative illustrates (173-79).

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157 This vast range of captivity narratives argues for the vitality and validity of captivity narrative traditions among Native peoples.

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CHAPTER 5 THE FORTIES Apaches seldom attack white women, Terry. he said. You would either have been killed or else brought to the tribe as a servant. They would have worked you pretty hard and maybe after a while one of them would have wanted to take you as his wife. But I dont think that what you are most afraid of would have happened. --Elliott Arnold, Blood Brother If the Thirties was a decade of revisionist challenges to conventional rhetoric, the Forties is the decade of authoritative formulation for the study of captivity narratives with the official articulations by Carleton and Pearce. Other critics also lend credence to this formation through their work, like Carl Coke Risters Border Captives (1940). Endorsements of standard captivity rhetoric seem quite common. For example, captivity continues to exist as a stock situation in the Tarzan movies of this period, like Tarzan and the Mermaids (1948), reflecting both the formula defining Tarzan's movie imagery and a national interest in captivity (though not explicitly revisionist). Other movies from this period echo similar, predictable plots catering to male fantasies, as in White Captive (1943) with its captivity of a white shark hunter by an exotic jungle princess. None of these movies, however, offer any revisions to standard definitions of captivity. Despite such reductive formulations, this decade also witnesses the continued publication and promotion of revisionist images of captivity and Native identity. It also witnesses the continuity of the counter tradition from previous decades despite the overwhelming emphasis for half of its duration on the war effort--an emphasis that 158

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159 virtually erases other genres for about half the decade. After the war, Hollywood again turns to major productions of Westerns, but other media never leave them, particularly those promoting revisionist representations of captivity. For example, Grey, Zane Grey's Lone Star Ranger (1914) reappears as a chapter novella as "The Outlaw, or The Last of the Duanes" in a 1947 issue of Zane Grey's Western Magazine This reappearance reiterates the issue of captivity-as-complexity and -commerce that the original version had offered. Appearing in a magazine format may also insure that its revisionist message reaches additional audiences (both in terms of their ages and their locations). Such republications also inform the larger issues of reproduction determining markets for revisionist captivity and Native identity at this time. Critics like Jon Tuska argue that factors directly resulting from the War cause pulp paperbacks to replace pulp magazines (1995, 19). The decline had been coming prior to the War, but the official paper shortage in 1943 and the Armed Services paperback policy combine to effectively end the pulp magazine era. The death of the pulps does not end the audience desire for similar media and products. An additional consequence of these factors is the increased literacy of service men and women and their familiarity with the paperback format. The end result was a larger reader base primed for and by popular culture markets prior to the war and its impact on the media, who then switched to alternate forms of entertainment--which also supplied the same or similar products. Part of this audience's exposure would have been to the "alternative" models of captivity that we have already cited (e.g. Brand whose work continued to be reprinted as paperbacks and in higher-quality-paper magazines to the

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160 present day). So the additional consequence of this increased reader base was increased exposure to the arguments advanced by and through such "alternatives." However, this exposure does not exclusively depend upon pulp readers and their markets. Many alternatives existed at this time, from childrens books like Lois Lenskis The Indian Captive (1942) to adult Westerns like L. L. Foremans The Renegade (1942) to historical romances like Mary Bethell Alfriends Juan Ortiz (1940) and Walter D. Edmonds Drums Along the Mohawk (1940) to movies like Ride Em Cowboy and Valley of the Sun (1942). In short, audiences continue to have access to numerous examples of revisionist agendas produced at this time, not to mention those produced earlier. Each of these examples informs a larger context of revising standard images of captivity and Native peoples in its own unique way. Fiction Certain themes relevant to our study continue from the previous decades into the Forties. For example, in "The Texan" (1949), a Western Picture Stories feature, Texas Ranger Jory Braden, and his Mexican sidekick Lopez, foil a greedy white land grabber whose thugs dress as Indians to murder local homesteaders. Elsewhere, the model thrives which has unscrupulous whites force Native peoples to capture others for their own political and personal ends. However, at this same time authors like Zane Grey are reformulating captivity in more subtle ways. He begins Woman of the Frontier (1940) with Logan Huett's capture of Matazel and his band of Apache warriors. Grey uses the term "captives" to describe the band. He then adds to this reversal Matazel's claims that the whites are penning Native peoples to reinforce this image of white captivity of red peoples in both a literal and figurative way. After this introductory revision of standardized captivity roles, Grey

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161 frustrates any expectations for simple inversions of these terms. Part of his strategy involves not mentioning captivity again; another involves downplaying the threat of revenge from the red captives. To enact this revision, he has Matazel take his revenge on Huett by raping his wife, Lucinda. Except for this brief reappearance, Grey does not summon the Indian threat again, and even has the son born of this rape to be Lucinda'a favorite. He does not have Matzel take Lucinda, or any of their family, captive, thereby necessitating Huett's emergence as the preeminent frontier rescuer of standard plot lines. Instead, Grey introduces and redefines captivity by making the whites captors and not making reds captors as part of a reciprocal equation, as Olson does later in Stalking Moon (1965). Despite this engagement with revision, Greys work ultimately falls short of the sort of explicit revisionism that other authors, like Alfriend, are doing at this same time. Mary Bethell Alfriends Juan Ortiz: Gentleman of Seville 1940 Captivity-as-complexity also informs Mary Bethell Alfriend's novel Juan Ortiz: Gentleman of Seville (1940) in far more explicit ways. There she creates a novel based on the historical records of Ortizs life. Since Ortizs biography includes his captivity among a Florida tribe, Alfriend represents Ortizs gradual assimilation among his captors. Her account follows closely those existent historical accounts; however she develops sympathy for his captors through a combination of conventional and revisionary images which indicate the determinism of the former. First she characterizes his captors as demonic, both when they capture Ortiz and his companion and while they torture that companion to death, forcing Ortiz to watch. Ortiz defies a similar fate through the interventions of the caciques daughter, The Princess Hirrihigua. Alfriend chronicles briefly the major incidents of his life as a captive-slave recorded by De Sotos chroniclers. She also develops the love interests between Ortiz

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162 and The Princess. This plot point allows her to comment upon Ortizs captivity and use it in turn to comment upon the inhumanity of early Spanish explorers toward Native peoples. In this way Alfriend uses captivity as a means to directly counter reductive images of captivity and rearticulate it as a coequivalent practice by both sides. For example, as Ortizs interest in The Princess grows, they manage to arrange a rendezvous. During one such meeting, The Princess explains why her father captured and tortured Ortiz and his companion: De Navarez had led his troops through the caciques town and captured Hirrrihiguas mother when he had refused De Navarezs demands for supplies and slaves. When Hirrrihigua met those demands, De Navarez took the goods and ran, but not before executing Hirrrihigua's mother. The Princesss explanation recontextualizes her fathers capturing Ortiz and his subsequent subjection of the Spaniard as a captive not as the acts of a cruel despot, but of an orphaned son seeking vengeance. What was once simply the act of a savage becomes more accessible to the novels readers, enacting a revisionist agenda that Alfriend will have Ortizs character articulate more explicitly as the novel progresses and De Sotos cruelties increase. For example, when De Soto captures and executes the leaders from Vitachuco, Ortiz experiences an epiphany possible only through his captivity: Juan Ortiz realized the price he must always pay for having lived among the Indians; whenever such happenings as these occurred, although in behavior he was entirely loyal to De Soto and the Spaniards, in sympathy he was of divided mind. For he could see the Indians side of the affair; could understand their fierce desire to defend themselves and their lands from aggression by the domineering white race. Now, too, he saw to what lengths De Sotos anger would go if aroused. (143) By having taken readers through Ortizs captivity, Alfriend creates an analogous situation for her readers: having lived among the Indians readers could see the

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163 Indians side of the affair; could understand their fierce desire to defend themselves and their lands from aggression by the domineering white race. In this way Alfriend uses captivity to redefine Spanish exploration and colonization of North America as an act of imperialist savagery against peoplenot savages. Moreover, Alfriend recontextualizes captivity by native peoples as more than simplistic acts of savagery: they are complex actions comprehensible only after one learns the events from both captive and captor's perspectives. What was simple violence becomes complex articulation. Walter D. Edmonds Drums Along the Mohawk 1940 Given the explicit nationalism in its movie version, the extensive revisionism in Walter D. Edmonds novel Drums Along the Mohawk (1940) comes as a surprise. Edmonds introduces an example of captivity which grants its female captive a reprieve from her perilous situation among the whites. In doing so, Edmonds represents an alternative to the predominant image of white female captivityone which articulates the uses of captivity by female authors as argued by critics like Castiglia and Deronian-Stodola. He also introduces an alternative to the nationalist validation that his novel, and the movie version, elsewhere offers. Given that the movie version completely eliminates this scene, we can argue that the movie attempts and succeeds at the same sort of silencing that Northwest Passage attempts. However, the novel clearly offers readers an alternative discourse here. It is not simply a dominate discourse's privileging (as Luke Short will do in Ambush below), but a carefully constructed case indicting such reductive rhetoric. To achieve this effect Edmonds introduces Nancy as a somewhat simple-minded woman, who has been seduced and abandoned by a soldier. Her mistress falls into apoplectic rages when she talks to Nancy, until Nancy can no longer stand her situation

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164 and runs away. At this point Edmonds introduces Gahota, an opportunistic Seneca warrior who first decides to kill her for the easy scalp and the bounty money it would bring, but then has him reconsider his options. He considers her strength in having traveled so far from her village: And her light long hair and her blue eyes interested him; he was different from most Indians in his own town. He liked to live solitary and had a small log house on the outskirts of Deodestoe village. He had never been markedly successful on a warpath. Two scalps and this woman prisoner might make him some reputation. If, now, he decided to marry her, it wouldnt be necessary to give presents, either. (345-46) While he considers all this, Nancy gives birth to her child. Afterwards, they head to his house, where they begin a contented family life Edmonds pointedly returns to this couple much later in the novel. Then, he represents Nancy as a contented Earth-Mother, raising a garden and family as a Seneca with Gahota. Next, he introduces an explicit declaration of Nancys happiness and her choice to remain with Gahota when he has a party of Tory Rangers, including Nancys brother and her childs father, discover their cabin. Her former lover tries to seduce her a second time, this time with promises of marriage and a return to civilization, with the final intention of dumping her into a life of prostitution at Niagara. Nancy considers her options, and then flatly tells him that she will stay married to Gahota (505). Here a woman freely and absolutely chooses the alternative of her captivity (which at this point is now romance) to the discrimination and abuse she would suffer at the hands of her original culture. Clearly, she has used captivity to realize her self and refuses the return to patriarchal domination she is being offered as a "rescue." Edmonds portrait of Nancys captivity markedly contrasts with his other instances of captivity, in which white victims suffer horrible fates (e.g. 369-72, 481-82, and 587).

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165 Moreover, it differs markedly from contemporary accounts which either use captivity as a means for facilitating white protagonists in their acquisition of wealth or as potential threats to their lives (e.g. The Big Sky Northwest Passage ). Moreover, he profiles a woman who finds romantic fulfillment in her captivity in direct opposition to the patriarchal injunctions she would otherwise face. In short, Edmonds' creation of Nancy's captivity works a contained but intense effort against the larger patriarchal and nationalistic forces surrounding it. When we then note how the movie version of Edmonds' novel denies this disruptive moment, we see how the current nationalist rhetoric seeks a unified and unifying characterization, of the type Paul Fussell has shown (1988, 1989). Moreover, Edmonds has not chosen to simply portray captivity as a single-mindedly positive experience, but has included varying aspects to represent captivity as a complexity. He obviously places more weight literally and figuratively on Nancy's self-realization, and in doing so reveals his own bias toward captivity-as-complexity. The absolute absence of this storyline in the movie version of the novel (1939) indicates a reluctance by Hollywood to promote such an alternative version to the movies otherwise strong nationalist theme. This denial further illustrates the general trend at this time to promote nationalism at the expense of images that problematize that hegemony--precisely the sort of global coding that Hall cites. L.L. Foreman's The Renegade 1942 Certain novels at this time also clearly separate themselves from the conventional majority by their revisionism. One major example, L.L. Foreman's The Renegade (1942), explores the complexities of identity when brought into focus by cross-cultural assimilation that result from captivity. Central to his argument, as with so many others

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166 exploring similar topics is the way in which captivity brings those issues into question and cannot adequately (re)solve them. Captivity as complexity, then, informs Foreman's project as well. As other authors arguing similar revisionist stances do (e.g. Berger in Little Big Man 1964), Foreman begins his exploration by calling into question the status of a white boy adopted by red people. What others will label as "captivity" is actually the adoption of a white boy by red peoplesanother example of how conventional images preclude alternatives. Here Foreman uses Aherenes liminal identity to focus further issues identity and captivity as defined by conventional images. To do so, Foreman constantly stages the debates over captivity and identity, as he does during the dinner scene when guests polarize around these issues: one side claiming that "Indians always kill their prisoners . The treacherous, black-hearted murderers" while Aherene voices the counter" Not always! . Not all Indians. And they do not kill women on sight!" (160). He offers similar stagings when he portrays "the old subject of misinformed folks back East who insist on the infinite savagery of native peoples despite the cavalryman's best efforts to convince them otherwise, 167-68, or when he has Aherne engage in a debate over the legitimacy of Social Darwinism as revealed in Manifest Destiny, 171-72). Scenes like these amplify the revisionist dimensions of Foreman's project by placing the political inescapably before his audience. He also employs Luta-ho-ota captivity at the hands of the army deserter captured by the Lakota to precipitate the conflict over identity. Upon learning of her captivity, Aherene/Wapaha and a small party pursue her captor, only to discover her now a captive among the Comanches. Aherene/Wapaha rescues her and then watches her murdered by

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167 a party of racist white soldiers who believe all Indians are hostile, and so shoot first and maybe ask questions later. Such instances contrast revisionist and conventional perspectives to emphasize how reductive and destructive the conventional perspectives are. Foreman then ties revisionist captivity back to Luta-ho-ota's captivity, when Aherene/Wapaha explains why her riding companion charged the patrol who murdered her as a testament of his love for her. Such a scene, staged so centrally around explicit and implicit issues of captivity and identity informs Foreman's larger agenda in this novel. A decade later, when Foreman's book becomes a movie (1952), The Savage downplays potential political complications by casting the Lakota band that rescues Aherene (Charlton Heston) as essentially peaceful and abandoning the complications surrounding Lutas captivity. Its translation parallels novels to movies like Drums Along the Mohawk which originally contain complex rearticulations of captivity which disappear in the movie version. Again, this alteration does not necessarily reflect a general climate adverse to revisionist arguments about captivity and Native identity. It represents individual examples of silencing, as the number of outspokenly revisionist examples from this decade indicates. Moreover, Hestons role in Arrowhead the very next year indicates the fluidity with which Hollywood represents captivity at this time. Movies Northwest Passage 1940 We can see the obstacles that revisionists like Alfriend, Lenski, and Edmonds faced when we compare their treatments of captivity with that of King Vidor in his movie Northwest Passage (1940). Northwest Passage is one of those early Technicolor movies which constantly and consistently touts a patriotic masculinity at the expense of Native

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168 peoples and feminist perspectives. It uses captivity twice to emphasize this agenda. Both times the movie casts captivity in negative, conventional terms. The first has Crofton go mad while avenging his captured brother (the movie's first gruesome narrative of captivity); he presents his madness by carrying a "souvenir" Abenaki head which he eats, before finally committing suicide. The second instance is more developed, but equally negative. In it, Jennie Coit (Isabel Jewell) reveals how deeply captive can assimilate as she berates Rogers (Spencer Tracy) for his revenge raid on the Mohawks. In turn, Rogers spends the rest of his time with her reasserting patriarchal and nationalist authority over her. Other characters, like sister-captive Sarah Hatten (Helen MacKellar), also berate her for her assimilation. Given the sweep of this epic (director, stars, technique), its negative pronouncements on captivity can have far-ranging effects. Northwest Mounted Police 1940 In contrast to this ultimate endorsement of nationalism through captivity, Cecil B. DeMilles Northwest Mounted Police (1940) uses captivity twice, both times to deflate conventional images of captivity. First, DeMille has Dusty Rivers (Gary Cooper) and Tod McDuff (Lynne Overman) captured by Crees in their search for Corbeau (George Bancroft). Corbeau had wanted them to follow him to the Cree camp, where he planned on having them murdered by their Cree captors so that he could avoid suspicion. DeMille has them paraded into the dramatized debate over which political regime the Cree should endorse: join the Ral government and overthrow Canada, or remain loyal to the Queen, as represented by the Northwest Policeman Sgt. Jim Brett (Preston Foster). DeMille has them enter at the very moment of this decision. The ensuing exchange nearly deflates Corbeaus argument, when he will not duel with Rivers. The scene is

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169 protracted, emphasizing Rivers courage and Corbeaus cowardice. As Rivers, Brett, and McDuff leave, the last two reveal that Coopers guns were unloaded, which prompt him to do an exaggerated take showing his own realization of the death he just barely avoided. This last scene reinforces the sense that DeMille wishes to undercut the conventional rescuer role by revealing his courage as predicated only on his weapons, a strong contrast to his earlier formulation in movies like The Plainsman (1937). DeMilles second use of captivity again modifies prior images, by having Louvette (Paulette Godard) arrange with some of her tribesmen to take Ronnie Logan (Robert Preston) captive so that he will not be massacred in the forthcoming events. She intends to use captivity to rescue him from death, thereby making it an expedient hostage taking rather than a traditional captivity. Moreover, this instance focuses on a womans use of captivity, a reversal of traditional roles in which women are captives, never captors. We see him chafe at the life he leads after his capture, eaten by the knowledge that he betrayed his troop, until, in true DeMille fashion, he redeems himself by sacrificing his life for the other troopers. Ride 'Em Cowboy 1942 Another contemporary indictment of the overwhelmingly patriarchy and nationalism in Northwest Passage is Ride 'Em Cowboy (1942). It invokes captivity as one of its subplots in a complex intertextual rearticulation of Western identity. In doing so, it resembles the self-questioning of categories that evident in animation and movies from the Thirties. Here, this movie uses two main plots two advance its revisionist agenda: one involving a famous western writer who sheds his fake identity to become a "true" western hero, while Abbot and Costello provide the comedic counter plot to this, replete with their comical exchanges.

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170 One such exchange involves a prolonged dream sequence in which Costello dreams about Indians. He dreams a series of vignettes which initially pander to vaudevillian low comedy before beginning to engage larger issues of red/white relations in the middle and end. One of these earlier gags involves two anonymous Indian women who rush up to Costello and ask for water, since Pocahontas has fainted after learning that John Smith ran off with Minnihaha. In true vaudevillian form, Costello gets a face full of water when he calls for the water. This gag works at both the levels slapstick and a deeper recontextualization, again similar to what Warner Brothers cartoons had done a decade earlier. At the deeper level, it invokes the idea of captivity but places the sexual and duplicitous label upon Smith, clearly indicting this Anglo American hero as unfaithful and thereby deserving of shame rather than honor. Revisionism appears in what could easily be taken as simply a play on Indianism. But, this movie does not stop here; instead it drives home this revisionist position with repeated references to the violence inflicted by whites on red peoples. For example, the next gag involves an Indian chief with his back to the coonskin wearing white who holds two revolvers to his back and orders him to "Bite the dust!" When the chief refuses, the frontiersman shoots him in the back. Given the unrelenting quality of these images and the larger context of a fictionalized West seeking to discover the "truth" about itself, such a protracted series of images indicts stereotypical images of Indian violence and the ideology behind them. From this severe examination, the movie concludes with Abbot rescuing Costello from his requisite marriage by donning the bride's clothes and veil, and revealing himself secretly only to Costello and the audience. This scene, with its silence, raises more questions than it answers--the very essence of the entire movie. As in other comedic uses

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171 of captivity, this one invokes, and then indicts, the conventional images, before providing its alternatives, which do not simply replace the original target, but generate continued and continuous series of questionings of those conventional images. Moreover, as this problematizing occurs in a comedic vehicle it functions similarly to other comedic instances (e.g. Johnny Smith and Poker-Hunta, 1938) by encouraging audiences to question the concept of conventional captivity from a peripheral position. Revision of what otherwise occurs as given and universal becomes the driving force behind such comedic vehicles. Valley of the Sun 1942 In this same year as Ride 'Em Cowboy uses comedy to revise captivity and counter racism, Valley of the Sun brings its indictment of stereotypes and racism to the big screen. Most often noted by critics as an anomalous performance by comedian Lucille Ball, this movie actually offers an explicit argument about the effects of reductive rhetoric. Initially, the movie begins this argument with Johnny Wares (James Craig) conviction for allowing Indians to steal, what he claims are their rightful rations illegally stolen from them by the Indian Agent Jim Sawyer (Dean Jagger), who we subsequently learn is to marry Christine Larson (Ball). Sawyer repeatedly displays his sadistic and machiavellian sides particularly toward Ware, until the party is captured by Apaches en route to be married in the city. Taken to the Apache village, the captives face death by torture, particularly for Sawyer since the tribespeople recognize him as the person responsible for their starvation and deaths. Once the tribespeople recognize Ware, they declare that they will spare him and his wife, as he claims Larson to be, because of his past justice to them. However, they insist on Sawyers death for his past injustices. Chief Cochise (Antonio Moreno) intervenes through Wares intercession for Sawyer, and

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172 what follows is the stereotypical duel between Ware and Geronimo (Tom Tyler) which Ware wins predictably. At this point, this movies use of captivity has followed predictable and conventional lines. After the captives leave the village, the movie begins to modify this conventionality by commenting upon its construction. It first has Sawyer exaggerate the details of their captivity in sensationalized terms, which Ware deflates by explaining that he had not rescued them from their captivity, but that their captors had let them go. Later, the movie amplifies this drive toward conventional representations by staging a protracted attack scene in which the Apaches, driven to desperation by Sawyers greed, rampage through the town with comedic effect--turning the traditional showdown into a sideshow. This exaggeration emphasizes the construction apparently employed earlier, and thereby deflects any drive toward conventional representations. While not as extensive or as sustained as some of the scenes in Ride Em Cowboy or other previous instances, Valley of the Sun explicitly indicts injustices toward Native peoples through reductive representations, especially through images of captivity as conflict. Despite the presence of these major movies, the majority of Western movies from this period ignore captivity for more topical Western themes. B-Westerns by major stars like Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Bob Steele, Tim Holt, and Tex Ritter almost completely ignore captivity and Native peoples altogether, as a survey of any of the movies by these actors will easily reveal. For example, Tim Holt Westerns from this period (like Dude Cowboy ,1941; The Bandit Trail 1941; Fighting Frontier 1943) continue the forms and formulas from the Thirties, but with no Native peoples or captivity. The one notable exception is Holt's Indian Agent (1948), in which Holt fights for the rights of his Native

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173 charges. Instead of such native issues, most of this periods movies focus on dude ranches, singing cowboys, shoot-em-ups, and the familiar range of plots by nefarious greedy businessmen to take advantage of apparently helpless small-business people. The Warner Brothers Short Pony Express Days (1940) casts Indians as anonymous stooges duped by Southern sympathizers to prevent the Pony Express from delivering news and thereby prevent California from joining the Confederacy; otherwise, Native peoples and any possible threat they pose of captivity, do not exist. Some movies even orchestrate their Western formulas to include topical aspects like Nazi rustlers in Roy Rogers' Ridin' Down the Canyon (1942), thereby linking their Western icons to contemporary war efforts. A variation on this tie-in aspect is Tim Holt's Hitler's Children (1943) in which Holt portrays a Hitler Youth, thereby eschewing any Western aspect at all. Given this general trend, we realize how exceptional Abbott and Costellos Ride Em Cowboy and Lucille Balls Valley of the Sun (1942) really are. Childrens Literature Lois Lenskis Indian Captive 1942 Audiences have long acknowledged childrens author Lois Lenskis works as primary. Among her many honors, she won the Newberry Award in 1946 for Strawberry Girl and gave the world such enduring favorites as the Small family But we will focus on her 1942 runner-up for the Newberry Award, Indian Captive. There, Lenski portrays the trials and triumphs that Mary Jemison underwent with her captors before becoming fully assimilated into the tribe. Lenski's recount of Mary Jemison's life seeks to represent positively her Seneca captors' lifestyle, and thereby to validate Native peoples not as savages but as people. To do so she researches extensively Seneca (Ho-d-no-sau-nee) culture and Jemison's life. She also illustrates her book with drawings faithfully

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174 representing Seneca artifacts and lifestyles. Her efforts earn her and this book praise from Arthur C. Parker, famous Seneca anthropologist and museum director. Given this effort, readers of Indian Captive expect a positive representation of Jemison's captivity. Overall, Lenski delivers just such a representation, but she also invites her readers to reexamine the causes and effects of captivity, particularly as they affected children. She contextualizes Jemison's narrative relative to other child captives' narratives with this claim: "An interesting fact, revealed by a careful study of the subject, is that many children did not return, some by reason of their own choice" (xi) Her wording her emphasizes the perspective gained by "careful study" of captivity narratives: in other words, those who take the time to "really" read the narratives realize that they are not simply stories of blood and thunder, but can provide windows into other cultures and the dilemmas many captives found themselves in when captured. Here, Lenski contextualizes Jemsion's decision as her "choice"--as an active pursuit of her Seneca captors' lifestyles--not simply the result of resignation or a lengthy stay with her captors. By so contextualizing her book Lenski invites young readers to identify both with Jemison and the other child captives she mentions in her forward and child captives as a general category. She further invites children to reconsider captivity as the necessarily negative or violent experience that convention dictates. However, Lenski does not simply invert the terms of captivity and make the captors and their culture good, the captive's original culture bad. Instead, she represents the Seneca as individuals, both good and bad, and Jemison's reactions to her captivity as equally complex. The "choice" then that Jemison makes is not a simple or simplistic one, but, as Lenski represents it, very complicated, on a par with those examined by Castiglia

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175 in his explorations of women's response to captivity. Other authors, like Capps in his A Woman of the People (1966) and Hasseloff in her The Chains of Sarai Stone (1995), will present captivity for women as a lengthy, complicated process, by amplifying the realties that authors like Lenski have articulated. Moreover, by making Jemison's "choice" so complex, Lenski argues that child readers can approach captivity at a level far deeper than the simplistic fantasies (either of good Indians who "rescue" whites from drudgery or bad Indians who thirst for white blood and souls). Such an argument illustrates positions like those of Perry Nodelman (1991) about the reductive effects of critical definitions of children's literature. Perhaps the most succinct and complex examination of this theme occurs in Chapter 8, "A Second Captivity." The title alone indicates the relative nature of captivity that Lenski explores. Similarly, Dorothy Johnson in the Fifties and Jack Jackson in the Seventies redefine Cynthia Ann Parker's "rescue" by white Texans as a captivity with this title: his inversion problematizes conventional categories of captivity and identity. But here, Lenski does not simply indict those categories; she further complicates this inversion by having Jemison realize that this captivity differs significantly from her original captivity because she now poses a danger to her Seneca people. As she heads for Genesee town she realizes that she "was going to a place where the white people could never, never find her" (140). Lenski ends this chapter by having Jemison consider this journey in the following terms: "And all for what? All for what? Molly could not lift her sorrowful head. For a second captivity, harder than the first. A second captivity more painful than the first, because her hope was gone" (141).

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176 Here, Lenski does not have Jemison simply growing more attached to her captors in a gradual, positive, even flow. Instead, she seeks to represent Jemison as conflicted in her assimilation. She represents Jemison's experience as real, not as some simplistic fantasy of alternative lifestyles. Again, this chapter represents this process in incredibly sophisticated terms, as when Jemison has arrived at Fort Duquesne along with her Seneca family. There, Lenski describes her in a metaphoric passage, having turned from a white girl into a brown one (131). Immediately after this questioning, Lenski dramatizes Jemisons dilemma by having her pause, literally and figuratively a liminal figure (re)considering her identity: She broke away from the white people to go across the yard. With her moccasined foot still touching the door-log she paused. She looked into the woman's lovely face. She did not want to go. She did not want to go back to the Indians. She wanted to stay with the white people and be a white girl for the rest of her life. . Molly could not move. She did not want to go. At that moment, her whole life hung in the balance. Was she to be an Indian or a white girl? (135-37) To further dramatize this liminal moment, Lenski draws Jemison poised in the doorway to which she refers here. Given moments such as these and Lenski's opening claims about child captives, readers must reconsider their previous associations with captivity. Current Context Despite the presence and power of such revisionist works as Lenskis, other works of childrens literature continue to (re)articulate captivity in simpler terms. For example, Stevenson's biography of Daniel Boones (1943) skips Boone's captivity entirely, while focusing on his rescue of his daughters, and Averill's version (1945) focuses almost exclusively on Boone's captivity as the real prize that the Shawnee desire. These versions contend with White's version (1921) from two decades earlier which seeks to

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177 (re)contextualize Boone and his daughters' captivities among the larger political events of their day as well within a larger humanist context as part of a revisionist agenda. Other works are more sophisticated in their revisionism, as when Seymour's version of Sacagawea's captivity (1945) emphasizes its violence while representing red-on-red captivity as a norm. And in her Pilgrim Twins (1949) Lucy Fitch Perkins engages captivity at several levels, First, she has Native captors capture a former African American slave; next she labels the Pilgrims who capture his captors as "captors"; finally, she has the captive, Zeb, unable to relate his narrative, so that he and his narrative remain at the determination of his rescuers. Perkins creates this constellation of revisionist captivity images for her juvenile audience, but her story and its potential effects continue to this day as her story was anthologized in Thanksgiving--Feast and Festival (1966), which is readily available today on library shelves, a half-century later still (re)presenting captivity. Other childrens authors also explore captivity among other prominent Native Americans. Flora Warren Seymours' version of Sacagaweas life (1945) emphasizes the violence of her captivity as she represents her "grabbed by the throat (138) and repeatedly whipped (145) while a captive. Robert Doremus' illustration of her capture provides a graphic example of her abuse (139). Such an emphasis also reifies the standard rhetoric used to describe red-on-white captivity. Here, it defines red-on-red captivity, and thereby introduces the relativity of constructions, but it clearly defines captivity as an act of repeated violence. Such revisionism stands in direct opposition to other sources like Last of the Redmen (1947), a Saturday matinee version of Last of the Mohicans which ultimately resolves issues of miscegenation and native sovereignty by having all the

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178 Native characters die. As this last example indicates, contention over representation of captivity and Native identity continues unabated after the War. After the War From this survey of the early years of the Forties, we need now turn to the later years. As in previous decades, constellations of works appear which either solidly advance or oppose alternative captivity narratives. In this respect, the War does not seem to have significantly altered previous promotions of revisionism. However, Hollywood does seem to momentarily promote conventional images after the War. Five examples of this opposition will demonstrate this climate in which revisionists have to work: The Big Sky (1947), The Unconquered (1947), "Tracks West" (1949), Fort Apache (1948), Ambush (1949), and Rio Grande (1950). Of these, Fort Apache probably possesses the most celebrity, though it uses captivity the least: one explicit incident when Temple and Agar discover some troopers tortured to death by Apaches. Obviously, it uses this scene to demonstrate the absolute savagery of the Apache captors, a fate implicitly imminent for Temple, the conventional white female victim-figure here. As such, captivity forms a part of the larger constellation representing Native peoples as savages. Captivity also necessitates patriarchy and justifies extermination in Luke Short's novel Ambush (1949), although Mary Carlyles actual captivity forms a minor footnote to the love interest between Kinsman and Marys sister. The movie adaptation of Short's novel (1950) relegates Mary's captivity to a few brief and virtually anonymous scenes as well and instead promotes the love story. It does add an incredibly nationalist ending in which Ward Kinsman (Robert Taylor) and Ann Duverall (Arlene Dahl) salute the U.S. flag while patriotic music swells, subsuming any alternatives or questioning of captivity

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179 that might have arisen. In this sense it joins movies like Fort Apache and Rio Grande in its celebration of nationalism. However, it differs in degree from movies like Northwest Passage (1940) by completely silencing the female captive's alternative voice which could disrupt this patriotic hymn. Significantly, as we have seen above, when Foreman's novel The Renegade (1942) transfers to the big screen (1952), it loses much of its original ambiguity for a more succinct commentary on nationalism and its necessity. As we saw in the introduction, A. B. Guthrie's The Big Sky (1947) essentially ignores captivity and Native identity, relegating them to minor plot points in a sentimental celebration of Western Expansion. This novel appears amid much critical and popular acclaim: Bernard de Voto, for example, hails it as a genuine expression of the Rockies while audiences read it in droves. 1 So successful is it, that it is revised into a juvenile form in 1950 and made into a movie in 1952. At this same time, Guthrie is also extending this rhetoric by publishing short stories like Mountain Medicine ( The Saturday Evening Post in 1947), which recounts John Colters famous captivity among the Blackfoot in fairly conventional terms. The Unconquered (1947) constantly invokes the horrors of captivity, particularly for white women, thereby invoking and substantiating the conventional images of captivity and Native identity. Two instances particularly reveal how this movie relies on sensationalism. The second instance involves Abby Hales (Paulette Goddard) captivity by the Delawares: DeMille orchestrates a protracted scene of her imminent torture, replete with images evoking her rape and sadistic torture with fire. In true standard style, Holden (Gary Cooper) arrives to rescue her with his undaunted courage and reliance on 1 De Voto offers his own version of this story with Across t he Wide Missouri in which captivity figures prominently.

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180 the Native's gullibility, as he reenacts the scene from John Smith's narratives involving the compass and his captors. Such an example directly challenges parodic undercuttings of Smiths captivity narrative that we have seen in the Thirties and this decade. This instance also proves the first instance's argument that white women would be better dead than red captives. Moreover, this orchestration completely undercuts Hales earlier insistence that she would prefer that captivity to the captivity of her bondage to Garth (Martin Da Silva). Patriarchy utterly erases any possibility of captivity for white feminized captives other than unspeakable horrors and any possibility for captivity other than as an act of violence precipitated by racial hatred. Ford uses captivity throughout She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949) as a threat to the women in the cavalry train. Potential captors constantly spy on the train, waiting for their chance. The womens very presence and the possibility of their captivity as a result of their presence curtail Cpt. Briddles (John Wayne) from engaging the hostiles he and his troop encounter, effectively hamstringing the one leader capable of preventing a pan-Indian uprising in the wake of Custer's defeat in this formulation. This rhetoric echoes his earlier use of an immanent threat form captivity in Stagecoach (1939), but here Ford makes this threat explicit when he has Lt. Cohill (John Agar) reprimands Olivia (Jo Ann Dru) when she wanders beyond the pickets about the "hundred hostiles" that are watching her at that moment. He also has a scene in which he uses captivity as an ironic ending for a corrupt Indian agent killed by the same illegal rifles he was selling to the tribe. Here he switches from stereotypical rhetoric of captivity to captivity-as-compensation as Wayne and his troopers, as well as the audience, witness the horrors of being a renegade, manifest in the torture of captives. This same sort of ambivalent captivity rhetoric

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181 characterized other movies (like Northwest Passage 1940) and indicates the continued presence of conflicted uses of captivity. However, "Tracks West" (1949), Donald Culross Peattie's account of surveying for the railroad, presents the same sorts of nationalist validation found in Northwest Passage (1940). This story contains the narrators account of a woman captive among the Kiowas, Jose Maria, whom he tries to rescue or redeem, but cannot because the army officer in command of the survey crew. The officer excuses his actions because of her identity as a Mexican national and the chief's wife. Having presented her pitiable condition and the effects it has on the narrator, Peattie then concludes this passage by appealing to nationalism: The railroad "took the Kiowas in all their painted splendor, and ended, too, their raids and the slavery and shame that women knew. If she was left helpless behind, as the railroad survey went driving through, that is because civilization--a slow and halting progress, really--leaves many victims by the wayside, bits of the day's task that could not be accomplished because it was not God's will" (74). The Saturday Evening Post editorial decision to illustrate this piece manifests the magazines racist policies: a double-truck reproduction of a white woman captive and boy being led back to camp by celebratory warriors. In Rio Grande (1950), Ford's movie version of Bellah's short story "Command with No Name, captivity drives the final resolution of the "Indian Problem," by precipitating the Cavalry's rescue of the captive children, thereby saving them from death or worse--acculturation with their captors. In contrast to his first movie, Fort Apache Ford invokes the horrors of captivity to a more graphic degree, as when he implies the fate of the female captive, whose form remains off-screen. Throughout this movie, captivity exists

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182 as an aspect of a Native savagery which necessitates the presence and policy of absolute annihilation by a strong nationalist force. Ford makes no attempts to contextualize captivity in tribal practices or as consequences of warfare; instead, he makes it the precipitating factor in the final push for nationalism. The counter to this push returns us to the arena of comedic parody. A cartoon and a movie from this same period indicate the continued resistance of revisionists to such reductive rhetoric: A Horse Fly Fleas (1948) and Bob Hope's first color movie and biggest box office success, The Paleface (1948). In addition to this comedic resistance, Elliot Arnold offers Blood Brother (1947) an historical revision that forms the basis for the celebrated Broken Arrow complex. A Horse Fly Fleas ,1948 The same year that Wigwam Whoopee appears, A Horse Fly Fleas (1948) offers an insightful commentary on the ways that sensationalist rhetoric reductive constructs of Native identity and captivity. It highlights this construction by parodying many of the mainstays of that rhetoric (e.g. the sign reading Indian Flea Territory: Paleface fleas keep out!), thereby encouraging audiences to (re)consider and deconstruct that rhetoric. Captivity focuses these issues. First, the settler flea and his faithful horsefly encounter Indian fleas while building their cabin on the dog, whose hairs appear as trees. Stereotypical images of anonymous hordes descending on the resolute, lone settler abound. During the subsequent chase scene, the dog pours flea powder on the bunch, transforming the life-or-death struggle into a satire of such scenes. Finally, the Indian fleas capture the settler, tie him to a stake, set the bundles aflame, and dance around the pole maniacally. At this point, the dog intervenes and jumps into a fountain to extinguish the fire. The pursuers resume their chase, which then becomes part of a Wild West show

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183 played out on the dog, who willingly watches this spectacle. The final scene reveals the transformation from mortal combat to theatrical performance as the settler flea comments, while standing astride his horsefly pursued around the ring by Indian fleas, As long as theyre gonna chase me, I might as well be paid for it! As these scenes of captivity indicate, comedy often deconstructs conventional ideologies through excess. The Paleface ,1948 The Paleface (1948) offers a consistently high level of revisionism in its comic (re)presentation of the West. In doing so, it directly engages the reductivism rampant in movies like Fort Apache and Rio Grande and in other media. 2 In particular it confronts gender roles through Bob Hope and Jane Russell's characters ("Painless" Peter Potter and Calamity Jane) from the opening scenes. As with other comedies, this movie places captivity at center of its revisionist agenda. First, it has Hope and Russell taken captive by the white gun runners when the pair discovers their identities. From this initial act, Hope and Russell quickly and clearly land in the middle of the stereotypical captive torture scene reminiscent of so many earlier movies. As captives, Russell confesses her true identity and Hope, through his comic misadventures, discovers his own. Initially he plays the scene with a high degree of comic fear over their imminent torture and death by their captors. Then Hope assumes an exaggerated masculinity to prevent Russell from her fate. When he discovers that his death will be particularly gruesome, he vacillates between his original identity and his new one. At this point, the movie invokes comedic excess to advance revisionism, as it 2 Son of Paleface (1950), the sequel to this movie, does not rely on captivity at all, and only briefly engages the negative effects of stereotypical Indian jokes.

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184 has Russell explain to Hope that the degree of torture a captive receives is relative to his perceived masculinity. This explanation comments upon Hope's ambiguous masculinity, and the movie's exploration of it, but it also provides a moment of insight into captivity that removes it from the stereotypical act that it could otherwise have been here. This scene informs the movie's larger agenda of problematizing gender and patriarchal definitions of Western icons. With this constellation of purposes clearly revealed, the movie then proceeds to explore specifically the ways in which captivity defines identity and gender. Hope jokes his way to the torture trees, again combining his original and his newly acquired identities/masculinities. Moreover, the instrument of torture is to be two bent saplings, which will rip Hop in two, as Russell graphically illustrates with piece of leather. This particular torture causes him to waiver in his resolve to "die like a man." It also conjures numerous prior examples of similar torture methods and their horror, from Tarzan movies to the Manheim captivity narratives, to Cooper's intended fate for Heyward in The Last of the Mohicans (126-27). All of these prior examples resonate in Hope's current situation, providing a benchmark by which to judge his reactions and further actions. A series of comic circumstances rescue him from this death and then allow him to rescue Russell and prevent the war. Again, comedy deconstructs hegemonic codes through excess with the intent of altering audience perceptions. Elliott Arnolds Blood Brother 1947 and Broken Arrow 1950, 1956-1960 Before Broken Arrow became a critical and popular phenomenon, Elliott Arnold publishes Blood Brother (1947), an extended reexamination of the Chiricahua Apaches led by Cochise. He continues his revisionary arguments to the big and little screens as Broken Arrow (1950 and 1956-1960). Elliott maintains a primary role in crafting these

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185 translations of his original novel to movie, thereby insuring that the original revisionary message continues throughout each reincarnation. In all three venues, Arnold argues for the essential equality of Native and Anglo Americans, while explicitly targeting past injustices toward Native peoples for their extremism. Critics have too often overlooked the extensive and complex revisionism that Arnold creates in this novel. Slotkin, for example, claims that Broken Arrow forms part of the basis for radical revision to previous interpretations of Native identity occurring in 1950: Devils Doorway is the most complex and also the most radical of the Indian Westerns. A more meliorative vision was developed in Broken Arrow directed by Delmer Davis and written by Michael Blankfort, whose treatment established the basic conventions followed in most subsequent cult of the Indian movies (374). However, Arnold began his campaign a full three years prior to 1950 in his novel Blood Brother Arnold opens the novel with the successful return of Cochises band from an 1855 raid in Mexico. Among their booty, the warriors have several women and children captives. Arnold relegates these captives to an unusual status given that assigned captives in most previous novels. Here, the villagers receive the returning warriors jubilantly or mourn the loss of a warrior, while the booty including the captives, remain in the village center to be distributed according to each villagers need. No one looked twice upon the captive Mexican women and children who huddled, ashen, in a little group (7). From this relatively invisible status, Arnold then shifts back to the villagers, before finally returning with an extended explanation about Apache customs for treating captives:

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186 Cochise gave away the children. His choice was made carefully. The awarding of a child was an act of great solemnity and carried grave responsibilities for the recipient. He gave them to families whose number of children was few or none. The women were not assigned. For the time being they would serve as general servants to the entire tribe. They might continue in this capacity for the rest of their lives and no Apache would force himself upon them; rape was not an Apache habit; that was left to their hereditary enemies, the Mexicans. Later the captives might choose husbands and take their places among the other women of the tribe and become like them, no better and no worse. They might be traded off to other Apache tribes, or, but this happened seldom, they might be ransomed by their own people. (10) By so constructing this scene, Arnold provides readers with an extensive ethnographic portrait of Chiricahua lifestyles and an intimate portrait of Cochise. His inclusion of captives in this initial chapters revisionist portrait underscores the larger agenda he pursues through this work: to correct misconceptions about Apache peoples by explaining their culture and the complexities of their lives so that readers can see them as human beings, not demonic savages who do inflict horrible cruelties on captives. By deconstructing sensationalized representations of Apache captivity and identity, Arnold extends his revisionism to all Native peoples and captivities. Arnold uses conventional Anglo expectations about captivity to counter those sensationalized images. His explicit claim that female captives need fear no sexual assault calms readers anxieties over miscegenation (10). Later, Arnold reintroduces this explicit denial of Apache rape of captive women when Jeffords counters Terrys fears after their initial encounter (208, see epigraph). He has Cochise capture and torture to death a band of renegades who have besieged a stagecoachthereby using their punishment as a tool to emphasize his commitment to the peace treaty. Toward the novels end, Arnold has Cochise release captives as a signal that the War is over(395).

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187 Elsewhere, Arnold uses captivity as a tool for reeducation. For example, he has Cochise capture Tevis, an Anglo trader who hates Apaches and who has publicly denounced Cochises ability as a tribal leader and husband; through his captivity Tevis realizes that his former perceptions of Apaches and captivity were wrong. To further reeducate readers, he details how conventional rhetoric of captivity and Native identity precipitate the Apache wars by blinding Bascom to the truth about the Ward childs captivity and Cochises role in it (162-77). Amid these overtly political uses of captivity, Arnold introduces a more subtle, political instance, one which other authors have used to rearticulate captivity conventionsthe tradition of captivity between Native peoples. He has Cochise explain to Jeffords that Sonseeahray, Morning Star, is only now undergoing her puberty rites, because she has been a captive among the White Mountain Apaches for nearly six years. After the White Mountain warriors join Cochises band, they return her as a gesture of good faith, since to have done so earlier would have constituted an apology, a loss of face that the White Mountain warriors would not have tolerated. But she was not molested and she came to hold an almost religious status and she was loved and respected for her good ways. Here Arnold has revealed several extremely unconventional images of captivity. When the movie version, Broken Arrow appears (1950), many of these subtleties vanish in the translation: Morning Stars captivity, Cochises distribution of captives, etc. Instead, the movie gives us a dramatic scene whose tension is predicated upon conventional images of captivity. After having saved Machogees (Robert Foster Dovers) life, Jeffords (Jimmy Stewart) attempts to negotiate with the band of warriors

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188 they encounter. He seems to be making progress when suddenly the band turns on him, trussing and gagging him. Their actions seem particularly treacherous and completely at odds with the universal humanism the movie has argued so far. The movie plays on this convention, and its attendant expectations of ignoble savagery and horrible torture, before revealing their reductive determinism when the next scene reveals that the warriors have tied Jeffords to prevent his warning an approaching pack train, which they have ambushed. This use of captivity is for maximum revisionary effect: calculated to elicit then undercut expectations of captivity as part of a larger agenda for rearticulating Apache identity as human beings. The movie orchestrates these scenes to clearly reorient audiences toward Native identity and captivity itself. Just as it has redefined captivity here, this movie will also redefine conventions regarding Native identity. What follows is the familiar focus of most critical analyses of the movie. However revisionary that may be, it still lacks the full flavor of the multiple perspectives on captivity that Arnold develops in the novel. Arnolds message continues to appear in new venues, as when the anthology series 20th Century-Fox Hou r remakes Broken Arrow in 1956 as the pilot for its series. This version featured major stars in its roles (Ricardo Montalban, John Lupton, and Rita Moreno) and thereby attests to the continued prominence of Arnolds message. Broken Arrow also runs as a regular television series from 1956 to 1960. Finally, Broken Arrow appears as a comic book (1957-1958). Such continued representation of its positive endorsement of native peoples and its rearticulation of captivity indicate the depth of this versions hold on audiences as well as

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189 a general climate of acceptance to such revisionist arguments at this time. Arnolds continued participation in his original messages rearticulation reveals his commitment to that original formulation from 1947. Still more evidence of Arnolds commitment to his revisionary positions comes from work he does after this period, like the Bonanza episode he writes The Honor of Cochise (1961) in which a racist Cavalry officer (Deforest Kelley) tries to poison Cochise (Jeff Morrow) and his peace party. Such incidents reconfirm his original mission in Blood Brother (1947). Comics Current Context Like movies in the Forties, comic books from this period follow a strategy of reorienting toward contemporary issues, a trend particularly apparent during the War (Horn, 210-11). Comics like Western Comics The Wyoming Kids Magic Finger (1952) complicate such reductive images of identity and captivity. Elsewhere, other comic books continue conventional representations of captivity. With its reputation for translating classics into accessible versions for broader audiences, Classic Comics Illustrated contributes to the continuing dialogue on captivity with its productions of The Last of the Mohicans (1942), The Deerslayer and The Pathfinder (1944), The Song of Hiawatha (1949), and Daniel Boone (1952)--each of which reinforces conventional images of captivity. According to Mike Benton, Western comic books begin this decade primarily with reprints of popular comic strips ( Red Ryder Comics 1940-1957) or adaptations from popular radio and movie Westerns ( Tom Mix 1940-1942). This trend continues after the War, until a real explosion in western comics . began in 1948. Fueled by the declining readership of superhero comics and by the rising popularity of the Saturday

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190 morning B western heroes, western comic books soon became the most popular comic-book genre on the newsstands (121). Benton further contends that publishers either choose movie-cowboy comics or original creations, the latter because of the lack of licensing fees. Because of the economics involved, a greater number of original characters appear at this time. Not surprisingly, many of these Western comic books feature the same sorts of stereotypes popular from the last decades (e.g. crooked whites misleading Native peoples and renegades who masquerade as red Indians to lead their gangs in crime sprees). Herg's Tintin in America (1945) is one such instance. It portrays an unflappable Tintin captured by "savage" Blackfeet who plan to torture him to death at the torture stake (all of which we see in great detail) until Tintin begins a fight among the Blackfeet by shooting them with resin he has taken from the torture pole (21-23). In large part the Blackfoot motive is manufactured by the gangsters who want Tintin's threat removed from their operation. Therefore, in this instance what appears to be an act initiated by "savages" against an innocent boy actually is the result of manipulative white renegades who use traditional practices to their own ends. The republication of this (1979) and other Tintin adventures dealing with captivity (like The Broken Ear [1945] and Prisoners of the Sun [1949]) allow Herge to continue its dialogue today. However, the most innovative revisionism occurs in the back-up features of such titles, like Lobo (in Wild Bill Pecos the Westerner 1948-1951) and Frank Frazetta's White Indian (in The Durango Kid 1949-1955, and separately reprinted in the White Indian title in 1953-1954) with their prominent white captives and the attendant arguments for revision. At this same time John Severin's American Eagle a feature in

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191 Prize Western Comics (1949-1955), consistently represents Native peoples in positive and serious ways. As these few titles suggest, a handful of comic books at this time actively represent Native identity in positive ways, and often rely upon revisionist images of captivity to promote that positive image. As we shall see in the next chapter, comics in the Fifties continue and amplify this trend, thereby providing a solid basis for other revisionist agendas to perform their own rearticulations during that decade and in the following decades. However, before we turn to that discussion, we should consider one comic book from this period which consistently and explicitly deals with issues of captivity and Native American identity, Firehair Firehair 1945-1952 Firehairs adventures in Rangers Comics (1945-52) reveal the ways in which comics often directly engage conventional images of captivity and Native identity by problematizing both categories. In Ranger Comics (# 58, 1951), John Starr reverses the roles of captor and captive to comment upon the ways in which prejudices too often precipitate violent actions: He begins this argument by having a Lakota youth wounded while trying to steal horses from a wagon train. The settlers minister to his wounds, but the remainder of the raiding party believe their companion is captured and deserving rescue for those palefaces will torture our brother. Firehair arrives to resolve this impending conflict, but not before the story has demonstrated the disastrous effects of conventional perspectives (here made emphasized through reversing the agencies involved). This issue further complicates this revisionary agenda by featuring Firehair in a conventional pose: as a captive bound to a torture stake. Such contradictory discourse reappears in the next decade, and with the same effects.

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192 In Rangers Comics (#64, 1952) Pawnees led by Bloody Knife capture Firehair and her companions while they are out hunting. In this episode, John Starr uses captivity to contrast Pawnee depravity with Sioux/Lakota humanity in the familiar formula meant to validate the protagonists tribe over its neighbors. However, he adds additional elements that further complicate this formulation: After the captives become Pawnee slaves, Firehair helps her companions escape, leads them to the fort (which the Pawnees plan to attack), and then leads the counterattack, wherein she exacts her revenge on Bloody Knife for his exceptional cruelty to her and the other captives. In the storys final panel, the fort traders thank Firehair for her timely warning which saved them from certain death. She in turn, thanks them: And if you hadnt been here, wed still be Pawnee slaves! As these details reveal, Starr uses captivity both to contrast the captive and captors respective tribes, but he also prominently features Firehairs continual attempts to thwart her captors abuse and her ultimate triumph over them. In this way, Starr also revises images of female captives as passive victims. Such graphematic movements and moments indicate one of the major ways in which comics engage and rearticulate conventional representations of Native peoples and captivity. Its occurrence here in the middle and end of the Forties confirms the continued presence of revisionist works prior to the second half of the Twentieth Century. In Firehair this presence assumes a revisionary force that operates at several levelsfrom the general levels of conventional captivity representations to the specificity of patriarchal denial of female captives capabilities. Moreover, its presence in a popular media like a comic book indicates the pervasive levels at which such revisionist agendas

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193 operated and were received by both adult and children audiences. Such a fact succinctly argues for the extent to which such revisionist ideologies have been accepted and could have positively altered opinion about captivity and Native American identity at this time. Television Our final example from this decade bridges our discussion into the next decade in many ways. The Adventures of Pow Wow first appears as a local television production in 1949 before being incorporated into Captain Kangaroo in 1957, and finally nationally syndicated in 1958. Although much of its storyline relies on stereotypes, the series' basic message is positive: consider your actions thoroughly before acting. In this way, child audiences have a weekly, positive image of a Native child whose self reliance comes in large part from his tribal identity (as he regularly draws on his identity through his access to traditional tribal stories, which are also shown to the audience). Moreover, Pow Wow provides an alternative to the obligatory sidekick/servant role assigned to many Native characters at this time (e.g. Little Beaver ). Such an apparently minor representation has major effects in the rearticulation of Native imagery at this period. Its resilience and decade-long lifespan also indicate the willingness of audiences to accept such a positive image. Coupled with the larger acceptance of revisionary perspectives as manifest in the many works we have examined thus far, we can argue that audiences are readily accepting of such agendas well before 1950.

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CHAPTER 6 THE FIFTIES Indeed Bessie had been through a terrible experience, but it wasnt what the sisters thought. The experience from which she was suffering, when she arrived, was that she had been wrenched from her people, the Indians, and turned over to strangers. She had not been freed. She had been made a captive. --Dorothy Johnson, Lost Sister On the seventh morning he must sit, a captive between his father and Aunt Kate in what they called the Great Spirits lodge, with the strong scent of the white people and their clothing about him. --Conrad Richter, The Light In the Forest "Now it strikes me that, if we're set on recovering white prisoners, then we ought to make an effort at recovering lost Indian children" --Will Cook, Until Shadows Fall . . You ought to know theres nothing could bring the whole tribe down on us any quicker than if they thought we was holding a captive Kiowa child! --Alan LeMay, The Unforgiven To claim that serious revision of negative images of Native peoples begins in 1950 with the movies Devils Doorway and Broken Arrow we would have to ignore the five decades worth of material we have just considered. Moreover, we would have to ignore the work being done in these years by authors like Dorothy Johnson, whose revisionist agenda is pervasive. The appearance of Arnolds Blood Brother (1947) alone moves back the possible date of such critical structures, as well as indicating the devaluation this novel holds there. Rather than hailing 1950 as a watershed year, we 194

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195 need to recognize it as the middle of a centurys worth of works focused on revising conventional representations of captivity and Native identity. Perhaps no author best illustrates this claim than Dorothy Johnson. Fiction Dorothy Johnson A quick survey of Johnsons work in the Fifties indicates the depth of her dedication to revising conventional images of captivity and Native identity. A Man Called Horse first appears in Colliers (7 January 1950); Flame on the Frontier in Argosy (December 1950), and Journey to the Fort in Colliers (4 April 1952). She then collects these works into her first Western fiction collection Indian Country (1953), which is then retitled A Man Called Horse in 1970 to capitalize on the movies success. This early anthology illustrates the prominence of her authorship and the centrality of revisionism to her agenda as an author. Contemporaries like famed Western author Jack Schaefer recognize this intent and endorse it, as he argues in the Foreword to Indian Country when he distinguishes Johnsons work from its contemporaries which are cheap and simply sensational; instead, he argues, her stories are uncompromising in the authenticity of their material and the integrity of their treatment of it. 1 Contemporaries 1 Schaefers Foreword reads in part: Still the flood of Western fiction flows from the presses. It sweeps over the counters of the bookstores and the racks of the newsstands. It is the paramount escape-writing of our time. Much of it is cheap and simply sensational and most of it offers nothing more than exciting and adventurous entertainment--the glamorized or deliberately dirtied surface trappings of the western frontier. But there are a few writers who do much more, who match and surpass the others in the sheer vigor of the writing itself and who dig deep into reality and are uncompromising in the authenticity of their material and the integrity of their treatment of it. Slowly they are building a body of true literature about the American West. Dorothy Johnson is one of these. (Schaefer, Foreword to A Man Called Horse )

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196 Seth Agnew and John T. Frederick agree. 2 Such accolades point to Johnsons centrality to Western fiction at this time. Her revisionist works on captivity provide much of this centrality. Therefore, when these authors celebrate and promote her talent, they are also celebrating and promoting her revisionist positions on captivity and Native identity. This revisionism continues even past the publication of Indian Country Although not included in Indian Country Lost Sister also indicates her continued attempts to redefine captivity as not simply an anomaly at the beginning of this decade. It first appears in Cosmopolitan (1956) where she had also published the short story version of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence. It wins the Spur Award for Best Short Story that year as well. Again, this accolade indicates audience receptivity to the issues she promotes through her revisionary captivity narratives. Taken together, this body of work illustrates an authors constant drive to revise standard images of captivity and Native identity through short stories. A Man Called Horse features an anonymous white protagonist taken captive by Crows in 1845. He had gone West seeking equality--He wanted to live among his equals--people who were no better than he and no worse either (164). He quickly becomes disillusioned, but uses his money and class to hire men to create the illusion he seeks. Until, On a day in June, he learned what it as to have no status at all. He became a captive of a small raiding party of Crow Indians (165). Captivity provides him with admission to an alternative society, which ultimately fulfills his original desires. But first he must endure the status of no status at all. 2 Agnew argues that Here are Western stories at their best. There is no romanticizing of the noble savage, or of the intrepid pioneer. Here are credible men and women in credible situations. (Alter 16). Frederick defines Johnsons anthology as Some of the best of this new Westerns fiction (Alter 282).

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197 To illustrate this process, Johnson deliberately equates his status with that of plunder. In doing so, she emphasizes his commodification: They took him along in a matter-of-fact way, as they took the captured horses. He was unshod and naked as the horses were, and like them he had a rawhide thong around his throat (165). She continues this equation throughout the story, as when she has him brought into the Crow camp, leading the white man by the rawhide around his neck as through he were a horse (166). This equation erases any privileging his racial or gendered status would have afforded him in conventional captivity narratives--he is, as she points out, just another piece of booty. He realizes the pragmatics of his situation require him to give up anger, which he does. Instead, he chooses to be a horse--docile, without pride. The captive was a horse all summer, a docile bearer of burdens, careful and patient (167). He resigns himself to being the property of Greasy Hand, the old woman who beats and berates him, but he also continues to make notes of his captivity that he can relate on his return. His continued actions and comments reveal his calculated movements to rise socially within the Crow camp so that he might finally escape. After his coup on the dead warrior and his marriage to Pretty Calf/Freedom, escape becomes somewhat problematic: He was no more a horse but a kind of man, a half-Indian, still poor and unskilled but unladen with honors, clinging to the buckskin fringe of Crow society (173). Circumstances conspire to force him to stay, during which time he learns to understand the Crow people and their life ways. When he finally returns home, He did not find it necessary either to apologize or to boast, because he was the equal of any man on earth (179). He has achieved that equality through his revised perspective of captivity and Native identity.

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198 Such is not the case for the movie version (1970) of Johnsons short story. Before the short story becomes a movie, it appears on a weekly episode of the extremely popular Wagon Train (1958). Edward Buscombe argues that this version was one of the more colourful and intriguing episodes presented (422). Moreover, this episode appears a little more than a year after the series began (1957), which indicates the receptivity of television audiences to such revisionism and the willingness of this series producers to feature Johnsons story with its strong revisionist argument. Its resurrection and promotion as a major motion picture in 1970 indicates a similar degree of audience receptivity to revisionary perspectives, as many critics have argued. However, as the transferal from short story to small screen in 1958 indicates, 1970 was not the axis of revisionism critics like Slotkin claim it to be. This first film version of Johnsons story, A Man Called Horse (1970), promotes Native identity through its untranslated Lakota dialogue and Native actors, but otherwise Hollywoodizes the story and Native peoples. 3 Its final insult is its vindication of Horses (Richard Chamberlains) superiority over his captors/adopted culture in his restaging of the Battle of Agincourt to prevent their massacre by a neighboring tribe. The two movie sequels, Triumphs of a Man called Horse (1983) and Return of a Man Called Horse (1976), further promote Chamberlains rather than Johnsons story. They exclude any significant revision of captivity conventions (even when the band is held as slaves by ruthless whites from whom Horse rescues them). Tuskas anecdote is telling: And in the event, Johnson cannot be held accountable for any foolishness produced by Hollywood. Once, when I commented to her on how poor a film I thought A Man Called Horse to be, she responded with asperity, If you think that ones bad, 3 Controversy begins with the movies release, perhaps most famously formulated in Dan Georgakas They Have Not Spoken: American Indians in Film, (1972).

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199 wait until you see Triumphs of A Man Called Horse [HBO 1983]! I did. It was the second sequel, and she was right. (244) Tuska even confronts Jack DeWitt, the screenwriter, about his editorial changes and his choice of endings, to which DeWitt replies that he modeled the movies ending on Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and that no one cares about the other stuff (Tuska, The American West in Film 237). Despite such editorial changes, Johnsons original story articulates the first of a continuous series of revisionary pieces to which she contributes strong pieces over her entire writing career. For example, Flame on the Frontier (1950) completely redefines the standard formula of dramatizing the different reactions to captivity by two sisters (the one sister who accepts her new identity as a tribal member, and the other who resists). This formula is common, and usually used by negative formulations, like Northwest Passage (1940) and Charge at Feather River (1953). Speares Calico Captive (1957) provides a counter to this generalization, by problematizing the very category. And in Flame on the Frontier, Johnson performs the same sort of maneuver for the same sort of effect. To accomplish this she dramatizes the two possible reactions to captivity through Mary Amandas rejection and Sarahs acceptance of their captors culture. After years, both sisters seem to be assimilating well until the ransom party comes. Instead of using the standard solution (resistor returns and acceptor either stays or is killed), Johnson complicates the issues by having Mary Amanda remain with her husband and child, and Sarah return. She then complicates this solution further by having Sarah wed a prejudiced wife-beater and Mary Amanda jeopardize her marriage with Snow Mountain by her reaction to the ransom enquiry. Mary Amanda/The Foreigner finds her happiness among the Santee, while Sarah suffers her lot among whites. Her salvation is that Horse

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200 Ears had extended an offer to her that anytime she was ready, she could come back to live with him. To emphasize this storys focus on the determination of perspective, Johnson profiles man of the other characters. For example, she details how Hannah, the sisters mother, reacts to their captivity. In addition to her focus on Hannah, Johnson also profiles Snow Mountains reactions to Mary Amanada/The Foreigners possible redemption. In short, Johnson includes almost every possible perspective relevant to the story. By not simply focusing on the two sisters, Johnson creates a world that ripples and reacts to their captivity in ways that the two-dimensional approach can not. Readers realize that captivity is extremely complicated. Johnson creates a venue for understanding this argument and countering the binary simplicity of the standard approach--a technique and theory she will develop throughout her other works Continuing her initial foray into revisionary captivity narratives, Journey to the Fort (1952) offers another set of perspectives. Here Johnson again complicates revisionism by having Mrs. Foster experience unrelenting rejection of her captors culture and unremitting guilt over her having scared her seven-year-old daughter Mary to make her flee their captors. She communicates all of this to Bessie as the wagon train they accompany after her release awaits an impending attack by Lakota warriors. Johnson relieves this guilt by reuniting mother and daughter at storys end. In between, Johnson tackles many of the central issues relative to captivity narratives. We cannot explain such continued antagonism toward her captors simply by noting that Johnson derives this short story from Fanny Kellys captivity narrative. To do so would involve us in a circular argument aimed at proving Johnsons authenticity through

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201 her storys correspondence to Kellys narrative. In her writing and interviews Johnson repeatedly addresses the shortcomings of such a methodology. In an interview with Sue Matthews, for example, Johnson explicitly argues that Kellys narrative served as a jumping-off place for her short story Journey to the Fort--yet another example of the technique she called iffing or the switch which involved reexamining a situation from various angles that have not previously been used (Alter 26-27). In interviews like those recorded by Matthews, Johnson warns against reading her fiction as simply derived from historical narratives. Commenting on The Lost Sister, Johnson explains this caution, with particular reference to the differences between her and Capps treatment of Cynthia Ann Parkers captivity narrative. Lost Sister is based on a real event, the story of Cynthia Ann Parker, a little girl who was captured by Indians and raised by them. Her son was the famous Quannah Parker, the Comanche chief. The Comanches are home folk to Ben Capps, and he wrote an excellent book called A Woman of the People that was based on the life of Cynthia Ann Parker, too; but if you read those two stories youd never know they were written about the same person because fiction writers just dont work that way. All you need is a jumping off place. (Matthews 126) From this jumping off place Johnson has crafted a revisionary tale with power, a drive she will continue in her next piece, Lost Sister. In Lost Sister (1956), Johnson jumps off from Cynthia Ann Parkers narrative into a sea of issues raised by captivity conventions. She does so to firmly emphasize the validity of revisionists, as the epitaph for this chapter illustrates. To launch this campaign, she opens this story with a nine-year-old boy narrator awaiting the return of his Aunt Bessie, who had been living with the Indians (46). This same nephew had just recently lost his father in a raid, and so looked forward to wiping them out when [he] got older. (But when [he] was grown, they were no menace anymore.) More importantly to Johnsons agenda in this story, he comes to realize the limitations of conventional ideas

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202 and embrace revisionisma change manifest in his using Quannahs photograph and life as standards to shape his own (50-51). In contrast, Johnson has Aunt Margaret remain so firmly entrenched in her conventional ideologies that she never stopped hoping that one day Bessie would cease to be different, that she would end her stubborn silence and begin to relate the events of her life among the savages, in the parlor over a cup of tea (49). Such dismissive attitudes inform Johnsons position relative to the issues she raises. Johnson emphasizes Aunt Bessies status as a captive. In doing so, she argues for the relativity of the terms, as she does when describing Bessie initial encounter with her sisters: She did not cringe, my Aunt Bessie who had been an Indian for forty years, but she stopped walking and stood staring, helpless among her captors (48). She also defines Quannah as a captive, especially through his photograph (50-51). In doing so, Johnson foregrounds the work other authors from Capps and Jackson to Hasseloff will do with these characters and situation. As such, we can say that Johnsons work initiates a constellation of revisionism around Nadua/Cynthia Ann Parker. Dorothy Johnson is not the only author using the magazine format to revise images of captivity at this time. Authors like Will Henry contribute to the redefinition of captivity at this time. For example, in his Comanche Passport (first appearing in Zane Greys Western Magazine September 1951) he has the white scout Cooper inflict an excruciating torture on his Comanche captive and in The Skinning of Black Coyote (first appearing in Esquire November 1951) he has Tracy taken captive on the first page, but then has Tracy uses that captivity to skin Black Coyote at storys end. Louis LAmours legendary Hondo first appears as The Gift of Cochise in Colliers, 5 July

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203 1952 (reprinted in Zane Grey Western Magazine June 1970). Given its extended dialogue with captivity and Native identity, LAmours story bears closer examination. It also warrants discussion for the ways in which LAmours original formulation offers a revisionary strategy (similar to that of historical romance works later this century) which evaporates as the short story becomes institutionalized in its novel and the movie forms. LAmours The Gift of Cochise (1952) promotes a revisionist agenda which echoes throughout its permutations as Hondo (as a Fawcett novel, a major hit movie in 1953, and finally a TV series in 1967). Through such reiteration, LAmours revisionist argument continues for decades the dialogue he begins in this story. This influence extends horizontally to other authors, given LAmours status as a definer of Western genres. This short story revolves around the stamina and courage displayed by Angie Lowe after her husbands death, Cochises (and by extension most other Apaches) appreciation of those qualities, and Ches Lanes sense of obligation to aid the unknown widow of a man who helped him in a gunfight. In this sense, it does not differ significantly from his other works and those of other authors. But LAmour distinguishes his story through his uses of captivity. Not only does he transform a formulaic piece into something unique, he also advances a revisionist argument about captivity and Native peoples in the process. Cochise and his band capture Ches and bring him to Angie, where Cochise declares No take Apache man, you take white man. This man good for hunt, good for fight. He strong warrior. You take em (66), and thus begins their fated relationship. Cochise has provided Angie with a spouse, and ironically brought Ches to the end of his search. In the process, LAmour invokes standard images of Apache cruelty toward captives and

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204 Ches Lanes ability to withstand any degree of that cruelty. Lanes resistance and triumph over his captors provides the ultimate proof of his deserving a reward, which comes in the form of a forced marriage with Angie. In this twist on the John Smith theme, the white male captive does not receive a red princess, but a white one. Captivity, then, functions as a means to achieve a romantic conclusion that otherwise would have been forbidden by convention. When this story becomes the novel Hondo it essentially maintains the same themes and issues from the original. Various critics have long debated the translation of this story to the screen and novel and LAmours appropriation of James Edward Grants screenplay as his own. Its transformation to the big screen maintains central aspects of the original storys plot this original, though it does serve primarily as a vehicle for promoting John Wayne. With respect to its use of captivity, the movie (and the novel, since LAmour derives his novel form the movies screenplay) maintains the essential drive of the original short story: captivity becomes the vehicle uniting two fated lovers, and reflexively turning Hondos captors into itinerant matchmakers. The TV series modifies the basic storyline slightly, as we shall see in the next chapter. However, consistent throughout all these permutations is the sense of positive Native American identity, a quality revealed through captivity. Conrad Richters Light In the Forest 1953 Like LAmour, Conrad Richter also uses captivity to endorse Native identity and revise captivity conventions in a way that continues to echo today. Richters agenda in creating such a revisionist work is evident both in his novel and his notebooks. Drawing on Richters novel notebooks, his daughter Harvena Richter chronicles in great detail the process around his writing The Light in the Forest ( Writing 113-25). What begins in

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205 large part as a means of relieving Richters perpetual fears of debt, Light In the Forest soon posed greater problems for Richters theory of fiction. In July 1951 Richter approaches the senior editor of The Saturday Evening Post asking if it would be interested in a couple of short stories to be written to finance the six or eight months it would take me to do a short serial for the Post ? Its to be laid in Ohio and Pennsylvania in the early pioneer period of The Trees It starts with an upright, likeable and capable white boy captive of the Indians returned unwillingly ( Writing 113). Richters characterization of True Son as an upright, likeable and capable white boy articulates much of what Richter views as the process driving the novel: his heavy emphasis on contrast and conflict as the determining factors for successful fiction. For example, he became depressed over what he perceived as a lack of these factors while writing the series: I cant see that it is anything. This morning when I picked it up, I was greatly disappointed . It is only a narrative, all the same theme of conflict between son and parents, whites, etc. ( Writing 114). Given his general state of pessimism, Richters denigration of his work seems unnoteworthy. However, his skepticism underscores the ways in which he crafted this novel to frustrate such easy binaries: all the same theme of conflict between son and parents, whites [and Indians?], etc. Additional notebook entries strengthen this claim: e.g. his decision to use multiple narrators; not to use the easy binary of True Sons original home life being miserable, thereby generating more sympathy for True Son and consequently less for his parents; etc. Further, Richter encodes certain universalist tendencies within this novel, as when he outlines the story: Discussions & arguments between [characters] can bring out differences between Indians and whites, among

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206 which Native beliefs in communal property and the commonality of scalping for both whites and Indians emerge prominently ( Writing 117). In fact, we could easily define Richters agenda in writing The Light In the Forest as a revisionary work arguing for the need to consider multiple perspectives simply from the novel itself. He states his purpose in so many words there. He concludes his Acknowledgements section with the following paragraph: Not that the novel represents the authors particular beliefs or opinions. He can understand and sympathize with either side. His business is to be fair to them both. If the novel has another purpose, it is to point out that in the pride of our American liberties, were apt to forget that already weve lost a good many to civilization. The American Indians one enjoyed far more than we. Already two hundred years ago, when restrictions were comparatively with us, our ideals and restrained manner of existence repelled the Indians. I thought that perhaps if we understood how these First Americans felt toward us even then and toward our white way of life, we might better understand the adverse, if perverted, view of us by some African, European, and Asian peoples today. Examples or relativism occur throughout the book, but perhaps most poignantly when Little Crane and Half Arrow regale their white hosts with Indian humor, which their hosts interpret as offensive enough to justify the pairs murder (80-82). Perspective also defines True Sons response to his uncles racist charges. Accusations fly (e.g. white childrens skulls used for footballs, 64; Uncle Willsies diatribe against Native peoples, 43-46) which True Son adamantly denies, only later to discover that some Lenni Lenape do murder white children because of the excesses of interracial warfare (108). In these harsh terms, Richter rearticulates identity to avoid the simple binarisms that would cast the Native peoples as helpless or justified victims and the Anglos as vengeful savages. By so crafting his novel, Richter uses captivity to reveal the humanity of both captors and captives--a humanity which is essentially the same for both parties.

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207 In addition to his larger focus on revising captivity through this novel, Richter explicitly revises standard representations of captivity by defining True Son as a captive during church services (see epigraph above) and when his Lenni Lenape father admonishes him to bear his return to his white family as a warrior would his captivity (3, 21). His father further encourages him by recounting the bear-captive analogy (21-22). He defines the redeemed captives in terms that emphasize their redeemed status as captivity: the sacrificial cluster of captives (25). He also further complicates issues of captivity through his brief recounting of Bejances captivity among the Wyandottes (50-52). There, he has Bejance define himself as a slave among the whites, but free among the Wyandottes. He further emphasizes Bejances status by having him warn the boys that white capitalism will enslave them as well; the only alternative, he warns, is red communalism. Bejances captivity, therefore, does more than represent an example of black captives by red captors. As these examples clearly indicate, Richters agenda in this novel is revisionist. Given that the novel was original serialized in the Saturday Evening Post (1953) and that now the novel has become canonized in childrens literature, we can see that his original audience has shifted. 4 However, his intent remains firm. This intent also reveals itself in other short fiction that he was doing at this time. A prominent example comes from his short story The Iron Shrine. There he engages several aspects of reductive representations of captivity. He begins by having Ansell Sloan, a successful ironsmith, besieged on his death bed by fellow smiths who wish to learn the secret source of his best iron (137)--which he reveals at the end to readers is really the source of strength 4 The Light in the Forest appears in serial format in the Saturday Evening Post : Part I, March 28, 1953; Part II, April 4, 1953; Part III, April 11, 1953; Part IV, April 18, 1953.

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208 and perseverance that Mary Harris instilled in him while they were captives. In the process of narrative his captivity, Sloan reveals how Marry Harris assumed the role of Hannah Dustan and thereby imparted those qualities to him. In doing so, Richter engages the conventional argument that captivity for white female captives is devastating. Will Henry/Clay Fisher Over the next two decades, Will Henry (or Clay Fisher) authors numerous works that engage the conventions of captivity in a range of ways. For example his To Follow a Flag (1952) offers competing images of captivity and Native identity but unmistakably argues against the racism that cheats Timothy of the credit he so richly deserves as savior of the cavalry column (240). He further complicates such issues through his use of captivity, particularly by having Calla and her servant Maybelle captured by the Palouse leader, Kamiakin. Kamiakin forces Calla to wait on Maybelle, thereby inverting their prior relationship. Bell, aided by his trusted Nez Perce friends Timothy, Lucas and Jason, rescue the women, only to have Lucas return Maybelle in exchange for his wife, Tsikin, whom Kamiakin has captured as well. This unusual mixture of captives of color indicates the lengths to which Henry goes to emphasize the relativity of captivity conventions. Unfortunately, when this novel becomes a movie as Pillars of the Sky (1956), all of this questioning disappears for a tribute to Jeff Chandler and the Cavalry. Such is not the case with Clay Fishers Yellowstone Kelly (1957, 1959), which maintains a constant focus on its revisionist goals. Evidence that this goal is Fishers/Henrys agenda in much of his writing comes from his other works. However, the strongest evidence comes from the original Yellowstone Kelly--Luther Yellowstone Kelly. His memoir (1926) never mentions captivity; instead it generally promotes Native peoples in positive ways. Therefore, Henrys construction of

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209 Yellowstone Kelly represents his own agenda. Since he features images revising captivity, we can deduce that an integral function of this work is to promote revision of captivity and Native identity. Given that his other works also perform similar functions, we can further deduce that revision was central to Henrys authorial agenda. In the novel version of Yellowstone Kelly Fisher inaugurates his revisionist campaign gradually, establishing his characters well in advance of any possible captivity action. Then when he has Gall take Kelly to minister to their wounded captive, he leaves Kellys status ambiguously (and intentionally) undefined. To this complexity he adds another dimension by narrating the Hunkpapa raid on the Absaroka, in which they take many horses and a captive, who, they argue, will prove a real big coup (28). Later Fisher explains that Crow Girl is a particularly useful political captive, since she is sister to Curly, a famous Crow scout for the Army whom the Hunkpapas particularly hate (45-46). This last aspect introduces additional dimensions to the red-on-red captivity argument that Fisher has already introduced above. To these, Fisher also adds an overly indulgent uncle (Gall) and his abusive nephew (Sayapi) who wants Crow Girl sexually. The result is a complex interrelationship that underscores the relativity of captivity and Native identity. Fisher continues his unrelenting revisionism with numerous other examples. During Kellys care of the captive, Fisher uses captivity to amplify intertribal differences by contrasting Hunkpapa negative reactions to torturing captives with that of other tribes (35). He endorses the ability of female captives to rescue themselves with Crow Girls escape from Gall (64-66). This move contrasts sharply with Sayapis recapturing Crow

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210 Girl, which seems to provide more of a plot point to allow Kelly to demonstrate his prowess and to avoid any continued relationship with Crow Girl. Fisher also complicates this plot by first having Kelly spout racist positions (e.g., 55). But he also balances this racism with the remainder of the novel, wherein Kelly comes to learn about the essential nature of all peoples--as he does when applying the elk paunch to Crow Girls knee (81-85). Fisher explicitly states such as part of his novels agenda when he has Kelly wonder what other secrets he might learn from her. With these qualifications, and Fishers other works, any movement toward racism seems irrefutably to be a character trait of Kellys--a trait he (and by extension readers) outgrow through exposure to the complexities of captivity and identity that Fisher constructs. The movie version of the novel (1959) essentially parallels the main plot, adding additional elements (like Kellys sidekick Anse [Edd Byrnes]). It omits elements like the dichotomy between Lakota an Comanche perspectives on torturing captives, but its most glaring omission is it removal of any agency from Wahleeahs (Andra Martins) escape to Kellys (Clint Walkers) cabin, arguing that chance brought her to them thereby removing a primary catalyst for Kelly and the audience to revise prior conventions. When Dell Publishing Co. translates the movie into a comic book (1959), it also essentially translates the movie to comic book form. As such, this comic represents the translation of a revisionist message across media and audiences, thereby ensuring the greatest possible exposure to its potential effect--though with little of the subtlety and sincerity of Fishers original revisionist arguments. Similar evaporations of revisionism occur in Paul Wellmans The Comancheros (1952)a startling development given his outspoken support of revisionism in Broncho

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211 Apache (1936). It is replete with the sensationalized and racist rhetoric characteristic of conventional codes. When the novel becomes a movie almost a decade later (1961), it retains that conventionality as it promotes John Wayne. In the same vein, John Prescotts Ordeal (1958) reinforces stereotypes when it invokes the horrors of captivity and Native identity. Similar strategies of reification occur in other novels form this time. For example Lauran Paines Trail of the Sioux (1956) ultimately confirms the savagery it had tentatively questioned. Richard Jessup's Comanche Vengeance (1957) uses captivity to illustrate the Comanche's cruelty and allow its female protagonist and male counterpart a further development of their romantic relationship. And, W. R. Burnetts Adobe Walls: A Novel of the Last Apache Uprising (1953) offers only passing, but always negative, references to captivity. In contrast to such conventional encoding, Zane Grey reconfigures captivity in Lost Pueblo (1954), a contemporary romance Western novel, through Randolph and Janeys romance, which ends with him her captive on their honey-moon train ride (279). At roughly this same time, T. D. Allens Ambush at Buffalo Wallow (1956) offers a complex collection of competing images of captivity, all of which strongly argue for revisionism. Instances include captivity-as-commodity as dramatized in Comanche Chief Voice-of-the-Sunrise and Wild Horse debate over Amitys status as a captive (46-49) or her own self-rescue from her captors (154-59). Such instances directly confront instances of conventional codes, as when Billy hears the rumors about Comanche squaws torturing captive women, of young braves loving captive women (35). However, such revisionism is not the case with Alan LeMay.

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212 Alan LeMays The Searchers 1953 and 1956 By the time he authors The Searchers (1953), Alan LeMay is a veteran Hollywood player and published author, having come to Hollywood originally to screen write for Demilles Northwest Mounted Police (1940) and subsequently authored many more screenplays and other pieces. Critics have spent countless hours arguing about this movie (1953) and its racist rhetoric, which we need not rehearse here. We can simply note that when he originally publishes the story in Saturday Evening Post under the title The Avenging Texans (1953), it represents captivity in fairly conventional terms. Its few attempts at contextualizing captivity stumble under the weight of conventional codes, as when it explains Comanche proclivity for keeping white children but raping to death white women captives (28). Similar instances also serve to underscore the captors savagery. The movie version (1956) continues this rhetoric. 5 5 The correspondence between Slotkin's analysis of Ford's "logic" and his own "logic" here in this movie is uncanny. Slotkin's argument about Ford's (de)constructive drive in his version of The Searchers informs his own reading of the film: like Ford, Slotkin creates a "logic" which simultaneously creates two conflicting misreadings." First, Slotkin assumes that the movie exists without LeMay's original Western novel, published three years prior to the movies release. In fact, he never even mentions the book. His omission overemphasizes the movies impact on captivity narratives at the expense of the book's impact--an omission that informs much of his argument about the Twentieth Century's representations of captivity narratives. Second, he lumps a variety of movie versions of captivity narratives like Two Rode Together and Duel at Diablo into overly neat categories ("sensational versions of the 'captivity myth'" and "'civil rights' Westerns," Gunfighter Nation 472-73), thereby eliding any differences these movies may have with each other or with The Searchers (a move which effectively reinstalls that film as the quintessential film version of the captivity narrative). Moreover, in his notes to this section, Slotkin again condenses and denies in his attempt to support and demonstrate the legitimacy of his claims: "Sympathetic portrayals were: Tonka (1958), discussed above; Oklahoma Territory (a "B" film) and Geronimo (1962). Elvis Presley's portrayal of a half-breed in Flaming Star (1960) is more of a "civil rights" Western in the vein of Walk Like a Dragon than a cavalry/Indian Western" (737-38). We have only to note his language here to see how he has denigrated these films and the categories to which he has assigned them. As we have seen, and will see with his other analyses, Slotkin reproduces this same erasure of alternative texts constantly throughout Gunfi ghter Nation However, when we examine his arguments in light of those texts that he either denies or ignores, we realize that we cannot accept such categorical readings. The weight of alternatives and of individuality within such categories prevents our repeating the standardized mythos of captivity narrative criticism (and the ideologies that maintain them).

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213 The Unforgiven 1957 and 1960 Alan LeMays The Unforgiven (1957) appears soon after The Searchers hits The Big Screen. Given the differences defining these two novels, The Unforgiven is arguably the revisionary solution to the problems he popularized in The Searchers With its unrelenting rearticulations of captivity and identity, The Unforgiven is a powerful endorsement of revisionary positions. Its transformation (1960) to The Big Screen with Big Stars further indicates how receptive audiences are to its arguments at this time. LeMay carefully crafts his argument with multiple layers, as evident from the novels first pages. LeMay opens his novel with an explicit scene that defines both Kelsey and Zacharys relationship to captivity--a relationship that will determine the entire novel. Arriving at a Kiowa camp to determine if a young boy is Kelseys captive son, Zack immediately recognizes that Set-Tayhahnna-tay, or Texan Bear, is not Seth, but Kelsey will not accept the truth. Thus begins the feud between these two men that will amplify this novels revisionary arguments. In revenge, Kelsey promotes the idea that the Zacharys capture a Kiowa child that they raise and christen Rachel. For surely old Kelsey was now preaching to the Kiowas the same story he had started against the Zacharys in Texas, long ago--though to a different purpose. Strange that so cruel a people should set such great store by their own children, their own kin, as the Kiowas did. The deeper the gulch, the higher the hill, it seemed sometimes. So long as that sick-minded old man was trying to cadge favor with the Kiowas, what better way could he find than to lead them to a long-captive Kiowa child? Not that they would ever believe one word the old loony said. But if he kept on digging the idea into their heads, one of them was sure to see the advantages in it, pretty soon. A Kiowa who wanted to think something generally found a way to prove it to himself. (44)

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214 From this constellation of factors, the Kiowas mount a raid against the Zacharys to rescue Rachel and the novel begins a serious examination of identity and captivity conventions. At this point, LeMay introduces a central aspect of his revisionism: red captives taken by white captors and their rescue by their original people as proof of their humanity. The extremes to which the Kiowas go to rescue Rachel illustrates the depth of their familial sense, and thereby their essential humanity. By demonstrating the desire to risk everything to rescue a captive, these Kiowas shatter much of the conventional imagery of Native identity (and in the process, captivity). The movie version of this novel emphasizes this point dramatically with the cabin fight scenes. To avoid the pitfalls of simple binarism and inversion, LeMay also introduces competing images of captivity and Native identity. He qualifies Set-Tayhahnna-tays excessive bloodlust and cruelty by claiming that he equals Kiowa savagery (93-98). In contrast, he has Lost Bird first offer to redeem Rachel from Cash, claiming that reciprocity is fair here since the Kiowas had allowed whites to redeem captives form them in the past (180). Similarly he has Hagar narrate her captivity to illustrate Kiowa cruelty (112-15). However, he spends more effort promoting explicitly revisionist images, the volume of which defines his agenda in this novel. In particular, LeMay uses the indeterminacy of Rachels identity to emphatically revise conventional images of captivity and identity. He complicates Rachels identity by having Striking Horse, the Kiowa warlock, claim to have dreamed about a Kiowa baby lost from a travois and found by whites (136). He further complicates her identity through the winter count robe that depicts 1857, as the Year of the Smallpox Epidemic, when Striking Horse gives Stone Hand a present (243). He never clarifies this

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215 present, thereby amplifying the debate over captivity and identity. He increases the level of complication by having at least three competing explanations for Rachels identity: Carr believes that Rachel is a quarter-breed, Lost Birds half sister, who Zach found and raised (124); Zack believes Rachel was Kiowa (140); while Mathilda tells Rachel that she was a captive child left by Kiowa raiders in their haste as Zack had pursued them (170-72). In the process of her self discovery, LeMay introduces another aspect of captivity. Rachel feels an affinity for the Kiowas, particularly Lost Bird, as Ben negotiates with him and Set-Tayhahnna-tay (98-99). After the accusations about her identity begin to surface, she begins to consider herself as Kiowa. At one point LeMay has her do so in terms that explicitly revise conventional images of captivity: The Kiowas had been stealing Spanish-Mexican women, and Texican women, for somewhere upwards of half a century, and raising stolen white children as their own. Many Kiowas had the same Spanish kind of olive skin as she had--maybe lighter than her own would be, if she were out in the weather as much. And plenty of them had wavy chestnut hair, far less Indian than her own, which was straight black. (173) However, soon afterwards she feels enmity toward these half-humans who have come to destroy everything [she] loves, which she defends (184). Identity, in LeMays formulation here, is dependent upon nurture, not nature. When LeMays novel becomes a movie in 1960, John Huston maintains the revisionist drives with an unrelenting pace. Given LeMays role as its script writer, this movie actively retools his novels arguments to achieve maximum effect on The Big Screen. Finally, given the films casting of Burt Lancaster as Ben, Audrey Hepburn as Rachel, and Lillian Gish as Ma, this films revisionist assertions about race and captivity indicate a general acceptance by audiences for those positions. Notably, the film focuses

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216 on Rachel, completely ignoring LeMays careful creation of Seth/Set-Tayhahnna-tay. And it confirms Rachels identity when Ben reads the winter count Kiowa baby girl, stolen from their camp by white men with rifles. This succinct interpretation defines Rachels life with the Zacharys as a captivity, thereby problematizing the neat symmetry of conventional captivity. It stands in direct contrast to the novels ambiguity about Rachels status as a captive on the robe. The revisionary possibilities are staggering and inform the main arguments of this film. Will Cook In Apache Ambush (1955), one of his early works, Will Cook explores the effects of captivity through a unique constellation of redeemed captives. In doing so, he avoids the limited range of responses possible for captives from the standard binary of continued vengeance and sympathetic identification. Instead, he embraces the contradictory and complex possibilities manifest in OHagen, Libby, Rosalila as a means to illustrate this broad range. He adopts a similar approach in his A Saga of Texas series. The recent reissue of Will Cook's A Saga of Texas (1959) in its original form reveals the extent of Cooks revisionary project in this trilogyaspects that are limited in the serialized version that runs in the Saturday Evening Post (14 March-25 April, 1959), which, in turn, becomes the basis for the movie Two Rode Togethe r (1961). This most recent version reveals the great extent to which Cook explicitly argues for the historical recontextualization of the Southern Plains Indian Wars--one in which crooked Indian Agents and self-serving politicians are more incendiary to this war than are the raiding Comanche warriors. To do so, he uses captivity at crucial moments to both highlight those negative factors as well as to problematize the reductive drives of the conventional ideologies precipitating this war. In the process, he also emphasizes the humanity of the

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217 captors and the captives. In this way he combines these aspects of his revisionism to create a sweeping argument. He first uses captivity in this way late in the first volume of his trilogy, after much stage setting and background work indicating who is really responsible for the racial antagonism fueling the War. There, he has Kiowas capture Lt. Gary, his series' protagonist, and Elizabeth Rishel, as part of a larger program of captivity-as-commerce that the Kiowas conduct. These Kiowas capture prisoners and then trade them in a complicated intertribal economy with the Comanches. 6 As currency in this exchange, Gary and Rishel become objects, their captors merely businessmen, and captivity becomes an economic function rather than a revelation of an innate savagery in Native peoples. Moreover, Cook uses this captivity to deflate any sensationalized associations readers may have with captivity. Because their relationship never develops after their escape, Cook is emphasizing the political nature of captivity through them rather than using captivity to unite these protagonists. From this initial foray, Cook then launches a complex strategy for rearticulating captivity in his second volume, Until Shadows Fall Here, he examines in great detail the issue of redeeming and rescuing captives, primarily why captives do not want to return to their original families. To dramatize this point, he focuses on two captives: Janice Tremain and Dancing Bear. Cook has Janice reluctantly join Gary and McCabe at the last minute of her own volition and the result of Gary's promises to take care of her 6 The fact that they hadn't killed him right away alerted him to a bigger plan, for they never were ones to be bothered with prisoners. Kill the men and take the women. That had been their way. But their ways were changed now, and he could see why. The Comanches kept slaves. They paid a good price for them, if they couldn't take them themselves. And the Kiowas were traders at heart. They'd take horses or goods or buffalo robes for the prisoners and then convert those into cash at the agency headquarters. With money in hand they could then buy the guns and ammunition from Kline, trade them again to the Comanches, get more robes and horses, make a double profit, and do it all over again (192).

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218 rescue and return (92-93). Stone Calf, her husband, then comes alone to rescue her, only to die at Gary's hand, vowing his love for her (104). These competing motives inform Cooks larger agenda in this series. He reiterates this complexity as when he has Gary react negatively to Janices identity as a captive (103) or McCabes captivity as a negative experience. He characterizes the scene when the former captives family claim them as having an atmosphere of a slave auction in the camp while white mothers were separated from their half-Indian children. The relatives did not want the half-breeds at all, just their own, while the captives wanted none of their relatives" (188). These and other scenes illustrate the ways in which Cook constantly confronts conventional images of captivity and identity Continuing this sense of complication implicit in captivity, Cook argues that conventional responses to captivity and redemption are gender specific by having the male captives successfully reintegrate into white society, while the female captives experience prejudice at every turn. In other words, he indicts patriarchy and the economy in women by creating a scene in which the redeemed/rescued female captive undergoes an ordeal comparable to that of her captivity, but this time at the hands of her original culture's sisters and brothers. He dramatizes this difference at the personal level with Janice's trial at the fort, which climaxes at the celebration of her return (again, compare Cook's original staging with Ford's), until she is rescued and removed to California by her rich political uncle. Moreover, Cook sets the stage for the final installment in this trilogy by hiring Ben Stagg and Llano Vale to locate white female captives among the Comanche and red female captives among the Texan families, this later charge explicitly indicting the

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219 reductive rhetoric that defines captivity as a violent practice committed by reds on whites. As many other authors had done previously and more will do, Cook creates a rearticulation of captivity that labels whites as captors as well as reds, thereby problematizing the assumed permanence of such labels. As Gary tells Vale: "Now it strikes me that, if we're set on recovering white prisoners, then we ought to make an effort at recovering lost Indian children" (280). Such reciprocity informs Cooks larger agenda and determines much of these novels events and characters. The movie version of Cooks serial, Two Rode Together (1961), makes a few significant changes, but overall maintains the tone and intent of Cooks original. Some of these changes reveal Fords desire to translate Cooks argument to The Big Screen. One his most effective tools in this translation is his elaborate staging of Elena Mondreagas (Linda Cristals) ordeal at the post dance as a way of emphasizing the abusive effects of reductive constructions of captivity and identity as they are imposed on former captives. The other prominent staging involves Fords linking Dancing Bears (now Running Wolfs [David Kents]) character and actions with a music box, so poignantly featured during Running Wolfs hanging scene. In other words, Ford argues for the need to abandon conventional concepts or allow them to mindlessly dictate the violence inherent in that rhetoric. Thus, Fords alteration of Cooks original formulation expands and echoes it to dramatic effects that still reverberate across television screens today. Frederick Manfreds Conquering Horse 1959 Captivity figures prominently in No Names, later Conquering Horses, search for identity and purpose in Frederick Manfreds novel Conquering Horse (1959). In general, captivity operates as a device that unites two protagonists romantically, but in doing so, it offers commentary on the determinism of captivity conventions. Manfred uses captivity

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220 here to contrast Pawnee and Lakotah values, but he also explores the deeper issues surrounding the relativity of captivity and identity. His primary vehicle is Leafs captivity among the Pawnee, who have captured her as a future sacrifice to the Morning Star. During her captivity, she constantly deceives her Pawnee captives with her unwanted pregnancy by No Name. When she can no longer do so, she faces possible death for her deceit until the Pawnee leader Stands The Ground defends her because, he explains, the Yanktons had been kind to him when he had been their captive, always treating him as if he were one of their children (196). When No Name appears in Stands The Grounds lodge, he explains that while a captive No Names father, Redbird, had particularly befriended him, elevated him from the status of slave to family member, had even saved his life, and that he remembers No Name as a child (210-14). Because of these past experiences as a captive, he reciprocates in kind, thereby illustrating how captivity offers the possibility for intercultural understanding--providing a basis for cooperative alternatives to conventional violence. Movies Current Context In Slotkins formulation, movies from the 1950s define the real reformative drive toward correcting stereotypical representations of Native peoples. This decades movies inaugurate the dichotomy of Pro-Indian and Pro-Cavalry movies. He, along with many critics, cites the 1950 movie Broken Arrow as the original expression of this movement. These critics also rehearse how The Devils Doorway misses this accolade through studio hesitation over such a radical argument for the humanity of Native peoples. As we have seen, this movement begins long before 1950 and actively appears through a variety of forms in all media, many of which used (re)presentations of captivity to define their

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221 difference from conventional Westerns. Since we have proven this point previously, we need not rehearse it here. Instead, we will begin this section with a brief overview of this periods movies, before turning to this decades other movies uses of captivity and identity to revise conventional images. To illustrate the extremes of representation during this decade, we could cite negative movies like Apache Drums (1951), with its heavily-weighted sentimentality and its Technicolor warriors constantly leaping at audiences, or Canyon Passage (1956), with its extended sequence of Indian atrocities (among which are a mother and baby tomahawked to death and children burned to death in a protracted montage, Similarly, Warpath (1951) features a protracted scene of horrific torture of captives until Forrest Tuckers character valiantly sacrifices himself (thereafter joined by other inspired captives) so that Edmond OBrien can escape with Polly Bergen to warn Custer of the Lakota plans. Fort Ti (1953), another example, sensationalizes Indians as demonic figures bent on torturing both the characters in the movie and the movie's audience: Through the director's use of 3-D effects, the Indians violently attack both subjects as when the Indian attackers burn a cabin and then turn a blazing torch directly toward the audience. This conflation of subjects erases the temporal and spatial distance between the two, thereby maintaining the negative image of Native peoples in the second half of the twentieth century. Yet another example occurs in Distant Drums (1951), which invokes captivity in stereotypical. Flaming Feather (1953) resurrects a popular form from the earlier decades in which white renegades disguised as Indians prey upon white women--their potential captivity infinitely worse than that possible by red devils. This movie further

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222 compounds this horror by having Lucky Lee (Victory Jory) redeem (Arleen Whelan) from himself (as the Sidewinder), thereby causing her to feel obliged to marry him. The celebrated Western Arrowhead (1953), which serves as a lynch pin for Slotkins liberal/conservative argument, precipitates the final confrontation between Bannen (Charlton Heston) and Toriano (Jack Palance) with Sandys (Milburn Stones) excruciating torture at the hands of his captors. In this case, captivity confirms the savagery that the movie has so relentlessly foisted onto its Native characters. Similarly, certain movies at the end of the decade also continue this negative rhetoric, like Escort West (1958) which suggests (off screen) the horrors suffered by captives. In contrast to such movies Tomahawk (1951) unrelentingly portrays the effects of racism, while maintaining a nationalist rhetoric celebrating Bridgers (Van Heflin) contributions to U.S. expansionism at the movies end. More difficult to categorize are movies like Comanche Territory (1950), which uses captivity to underscore the essential truthfulness of Native peoples, but otherwise promotes a pro-Indian Jim Bowies (Harry Carey) efforts to save Comanche lands from unscrupulous whites. War Arrow (1953) also offers a qualified view of Native peoples, simultaneously endorsing Seminole bravery and military prowess while condemning their brutality through their treatment of a Kiowa captive. That same year Tumbleweed appears with its complicated reworking of captivity conventions. Essentially the movie revolves around a small, but determined group of people (led by Jim Harvey [Audie Murphy]) who believe in the peaceful coexistence of Native and Anglo peoples, and a group of greedy Anglos who want to precipitate a race war to eliminate Native claims to resources. Captivity complicates Harveys pacific mission, but also reflexively comments upon the

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223 reductive and prejudicial perspectives held by most of the townspeople by enabling Harvey to advocate for his former captors basic humanity--a telling commentary upon the negative effects of racism. Later that same decade, Band of Angels (1957) reveals how categorization determines identity through Hamish Bonds (Clark Gable) protracted and graphic explanation to Amantha (Yvonne DeCarlo) about his role in the African slave trade, where they took captives. Moreover, Robert Penn Warrens novel of the same name (1955) does not use the term captive in this scene, but instead dwells upon the horrors Bond witnesses during the attack on the village in which he rescues Rau-Ru (163-65). Therefore the movie adds a revisionary dimension that Warren had not explored. Pony Soldier (1952) further expands such dimensions by offering competing perspectives on tribal sovereignty as focused through the lens of captivity and identity. The movie constantly asks: Does captivity constitute a barbaric, antiquated practice or a legitimate expression of native sovereignty? Furthermore, the movie dramatizes the larger issue of national rights through captivity as a means to sensationalize the debate (and potentially rearticulate the conventions from which it draws). In this way, the movie debates nationalism through captivity. This debate manifests itself literally and figuratively in the exchanges between Canadian Mountie McDonald (Tyrone Power) and the Cree Chief Standing Bear (Stuart Randall) and between McDonald and the racist captive, Jess Calhoun (Robert Horton). In fact, these two scenes inform the main impulse of this movie, which is to argue for acceptance rather than denial as the guiding principle between differing cultures and races. This debate centers on the issue of law: Cree Law versus the Queen's Law. In other words, do tribes maintain sovereignty within a

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224 nationalist state? McDonald argues that Canadian citizenship implies equality under the law, which thereby denies tribal law (in this case the right to take captives). Notably, here such questioning of nationalism serves as the movies primary focus, but in other movies exploring issues of Native sovereignty it becomes merely a vehicle for moving the plot, as in The Nebraskan (1953) or a legitimization of such nationalism, as in Charge at Feather River (1953). Contemporary movies The Indian Fighter (1955) echo Pony Soldiers rhetoric by juxtaposing national and tribal identity through complex dramatizations of captivity Captain John Smith and Pocahontas (1953) offers a similar challenge to hegemonic codes through its conflicting voicesone of which is, surprisingly a very pro-feminist voice denouncing English patriarchy when Pocahontas (Jody Lawrence) argues against Smiths (Anthony Dexters) orders. Similarly, George Shermans Comanche (1956) incorporates several contradictory elements ultimately to validate Native life ways and captivity as a multidimensional experience that defies the reductive rhetoric of conventional images. Finally, The Lone Ranger (1956) similarly problematizes categories of identity and captivity to a predictable wide-ranging audience. While these last movies problematize conventional images of Native peoples and captivity, Apache (1954), the big screen production of Paul Wellman's Broncho Apache (1936), seeks a similar strategy through Native characters. This movie emphasizes the romantic conversion possible for even the most stalwart Apache warrior, Masai (Burt Lancaster) through the power of a devoted love interest Nalinle (Jean Peters). Every aspect of the movie, including its use of captivity, attests to this conversion. Through such an extreme emphasis of the power of romantic love to domesticate even the most

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225 anti-domestic men, this movie's use of captivity markedly differs from the revisionary agendas evident in both Remington's version of Nalinles/Natastales captivity in Massais Crooked Trail (1898) and Wellmans novel Broncho Apache (1936). In doing so, it more closely aligns itself with the standard uses of captivity in historical romance novels. This same year, Sitting Bull appears with it often melodramatic scenes of the Hunkpapa leader beseeching the Great Spirit for peace. Despite this proclivity for the sentimental, the movie does explicitly indict the racism leading to genocide dramatized by the U.S. Cavalrys policies of complete submission through assimilation or extermination and the Lakota desire for peace manifest in Sitting Bulls continuous speeches and actions. By aligning Major Parrish (Dale Robertson) against these nationalist agendas, the movie identifies him with the voice of reason and justice. In this analysis, Sitting Bull appears as a typical pro-Indian movie, conventional in its antitypes. However, this movie also includes a character and scenes which rearticulate captivity and identity at significantly deeper levels. This noteworthy revision occurs through Sam (Joel Fluellen), or as he identifies himself through his Lakota name, Black-Slave-Who-Escaped-the-White-Heathens. Loaded as this name is, it informs this movies sympathies toward Anglo and Native peoples. Yet, Sams identity attests to a dimension of captivity rarely explored at this time (contemporary exceptions include Will Henrys To Follow A Flag 1952 and Dee Dunsings War Chant, 1954). He proves his ability to negotiate both worlds through his rawhide tying trick and his defense of Parrish before Sitting Bull. Despite his apparent value as a liminal character, the movie finally reimposes stereotypical identities upon him: the humble, obedient servant to the white

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226 master, who ironically tells him to go back to his own people--the Lakota--when things begin to sour for the troops at the fort. Brief though it is, this instance of African American captive reveals audience willingness to accept and explore the ambivalences of identity inherent in captivity. Trooper Hook 1957 Trooper Hook (1957) resembles these movies above that use conflicting images of captivity and identity for revisionist purpose, but markedly differs form them finally through its explicit and unrelenting confrontation with the rhetoric promoting negative images of Native peoples and captivity. This movie orchestrates this conflation with admirable skill from the movies opening with Tex Ritters ballad and the Remingtonesque drawing to the final scenes of familial happiness between Sgt. Hook (Joel McCrea), Cora (Barbara Stanwyck), and Quito (Terry Lawrence). First, it references standard images of Apache cruelty (the massacre scene) then how that cruelty manifests itself towards white, female captives. This last point dramatically appears when soldiers discover Cora huddling with her son, Quito, amidst the other Apache captives, and immediately subject her to racist abuse after they learn that she is not simply an abused white captive but is actually Nanches (Rodolfo Acostas) wife and mother of Quito. Aint you got no idea what shes been through yields to charges like: How could you whelp that butchers kid? You aint no white woman, not no more you aint! Nanches squaw and his redskin mongrel. This moment reveals the movies larger agenda of directly confronting racism. It constantly confronts such rhetoric, as in the sutlers store scene. Sometimes the confrontation is less dramatic, as when the commander Colonel and Ann Weaver (Patrick OMoore and Jean Bates) debate whether would have killed herself before becoming an Apache wife. Finally, the

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227 dialogue dramatized between Cora and her original husband Fred (John Dehner), explicitly defines the positions of tolerance and intolerance toward captivity and Native identity. However, the movie does not simply contextualize Coras actions as the consequence of extremes (a move that would reify the very categories her testimony questions). It amplifies this complexity in scenes like the stagecoach exchange in which she narrates her captivity as reflecting Native racism toward captives: But they [the Apache women] stopped [abusing her] when I became one of them. Looked like one of them. Smelled like one of them. In this way Trooper Hook represents numerous aspects of captivity silenced by conventional representations that would problematize the very categories of those conventions if they were voiced, as they are here. Just as the last decade had ended with movies like Bob Hopes The Paleface (1948), this decade also ends with a noteworthy movie using captivity-as-comedy. The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw (1959) has an Ivy League graduate intervene for his white captive Jonathan Tibbs (Kenneth Moore), who then stumbles into a John Smith-Pocahontas type marriage as part of this movies overall parodic inversion of conventional Western archetypes. Like Paleface this movie also points to a constellation of revisionist works appearing at the end of this decade which challenge the racism and exclusivity of the conventional constructions: for example, movies like The Unforgiven and Flaming Star (1960). Such works are the prelude to an avalanche of revisionism in the first years of the Sixties.

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228 Television Current Context Competing images of captivity flicker across TV screens in the Fifties. Some, like the series Hawkeye and The Last of the Mohicans (1956-57), simply repeat standardized positions about Native identity and captivity. 7 Others, like Broken Arrow (1956-1958), Brave Eagle (1955-1956), and Law of the Plainsman (1959-1960, 1962), maintain strong revisionist positions about Native identity and captivity throughout their runs. Still others offer innovative rearticulations of captivity and Native identity within the larger context of redefining Western conventions, like the I Love Lucy episode The Indian Show (1953) which directly engages reductive stereotypes through comedic excess. In fact, many shows at this time strongly advocate revisionist arguments. For example, The Adventures of Jim Bowie (1956-1958) produces many episodes in which Native characters appear in a positive light (e.g. # 20, "Osceola") or that involve some rearticulation of captivity (e.g. # 39, "Epitaph for an Indian"). But it also focuses on captivity and its construction in certain episodes, like Episode 26 "An Eye For an Eye" in which Bowie (Scott Forbes) tries to stop an Indian uprising in part by retelling the John Smith/Pocahontas legenda metatextual gesture that indicts such coding at several levels. Childrens television also shapes the images of Native Americans and captivity. The Disney series The Saga of Andy Burnett s (1957-58) explicit endorses an essential humanity for Blackfoot and Anglo peoples while the Blackfoot holds Andys party 7 Four edited-from-episodes TV movies were developed from the series: The Long Ri fle and the Tomahawk The Pathfinder and the Mohican The Redmen and the Renegades and Along the Mohawk Trail (Buscombe 408).

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229 captive. Such endorsement occurs in other series like The Adventures of Pow Wow.8 While some of its philosophy is qualified, the basic message of the show is positive: consider your actions thoroughly before acting on them, was the often repeated moral of the stories. In this way, child audiences have an alternative model for the nationalism attached to the currently popular Davy Crockett slogan "Be sure you're right, then go ahead" also currently popular. These audiences also have a regular, positive image of a Native child whose self-reliance comes in large part from his tribal identity (as he regularly draws on his identity through his appeal to and access of traditional tribal stories, which were also represented to the viewing audience). For all these reasons, such endorsements factor prominently in the larger rearticulation of Native identity ongoing at this time and provide a positive alternative to the images of Native peoples as bloodthirsty savages bent on captivity and murder. As these episodes show, television series actively investigate the possibilities of redefining captivity conventions. Perhaps the most definitive investigation occurs in the adult Western Gunsmoke Although the primary focus here is on Gunsmoke we should also acknowledge the years of revisionism evident in shows running concurrently like Bonanza (1959 to 1973). Gunsmoke 1952-1990 Radio Westerns from the 1930s through 1950s (e.g. The Cisco Kid The Lone Ranger Red Ryder Tom Mix Ralston Straight Shooters Hopalong Cassidy Wild Bill Hicko k, and Roy Rogers Show ) share many features with their contemporary serial plays, movies, books and comics: comic sidekicks, singing cowboy heroes, and women and 8 The Adventures of Pow Wow first appears as a local production in 1949 before being incorporated into Captain Kangaroo in 1957, and finally nationally syndicated in 1958.

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230 ethnic minorities in supporting roles to the heroes. As always, exceptions exist. For example, J. Fred MacDonald notes that one episode of The Cisco Kid (The Battle of Wagon Box Corral) tackles prejudice head on with its explicit praise of several Native American war leaders, while Straight Arrow a radio series popular from 1948 to the early 1950s, offers a positive image of Native peoples through its protagonist, Steve Adams a cattle rancher and crime fighter raised by the Comanches. Similar challenges appear in other radio series of this time, like Daniel Boone, Indian Scout (1948) and The Lone Ranger (1933-1958). Adult-oriented radio Westerns develop only toward the end of radio plays popularity in the 1950s, according to critics like SuzAnne and Gabor Barabas and MacDonald. They argue that this maturity results from the phenomenal success of the original radio version of Gunsmoke which premieres in 1952. MacDonald finds further evidence that Adult-Westerns of the 1950s conscientiously pursue an agenda aimed at confronting and erasing racial prejudices, particularly those against Native peoples (226-29). His brief listing of scenes and dialogue illustrates the extent to which Adult-Western Radio would go to articulate this agenda. However, as we have seen many other venues existed before and at this time that argue in adult fashion for the need to revise racist rhetorics, particularly through their use of captivity and Native identity. Gunsmoke manifests this drive first in radio, and then in television. This survey also reveals how this series, so often credited as the definitive role model of so many aspects of radio and television Westerns, confronts racism through its positive rearticulations of captivity and Native identity. Finally we will see how the revisionist drive continues throughout this

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231 period and this media to advance its arguments, which are too easily and often quickly, subsumed under general categories for Gunsmoke The Radio version of Gunsmoke runs from 26 April 1952 to 18 June 1961. These last years overlap the beginning of the original television run of the series (10 September 1955 to 1 September 1975). Moreover, many of the original radio scripts and story ideas reappear as television episodes, thereby repeating their messages against racism and standard images of captivity. In fact, one of the later Fifties shows (The Squaw) resurfaces in the last season of the television series under the same title, but with a different emphasis. In this way, the series continues to revise images of captivity and of Native peoples for over two decades during its original runs, and today through its reruns. This revisionist impulse begins with the radio series initial broadcasts and continues to the final ones. Examples are so numerous that they could easily occupy an entire chapter by themselves. Some early examples include "Jaliscoe" (1952), "Buffalo Killers" (1952), "Grass" (1953) and "Indian Crazy" (1956). Later episodes continue this exposition, as in Sins of the Father" (1955) and Speak Me Fair (1956; television adaptation, 1960). As these examples indicate, Gunsmoke directly engages racism throughout its run. When it turns to issues of captivity, it often uses that situation to further indict racism. Not all of the episodes portrayed captivity as an undeniably positive experience, as Renegade White (1952; television adaptation, 1959) shows. But the overwhelming majority of both radio and television representations of captivity seeks to complicate what could have more easily have appeared as standard, negative formula. 9 9 Some relevant episodes include: The Squaw (1958), Blue Horse (1958; television adaptation, 1959), Buffalo Man (1958; television adaptation, 1956), Gunsmuggler (1958), Cheyennes (1959; television adaptation, 1955), Long Hours, Short Pay (1961), and The Violators (1964).

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232 This problematization of captivity and its conventions through an emphasis on textuality occurs early in the series, and continues throughout as evident in the second season's "Fawn" (1953; television adaptation, 1959). This episode engages issues of captivity and racism consistently and in a complex manner by having Matt and Chester (James Arness and Dennis Weaver) learn that the prisoner they pick up from Fort Dodge is really a rescued captive, Mrs. Phillips (Helen Kleeb), who is being held until her husband can arrive. In the subsequent exchange, they and the audience learn that she was a captive among the Cheyenne for over ten years, during which time she married Chief Black Horn and had a daughter, Gray Fawn. This episode's title focuses the issues of racism and identity through captivity onto this daughter and the attendant issues surrounding her. Her mother will not abandon her; instead, she determinedly vows that they will remain together, despite the enormous prejudice that they experience waiting for her former husband to arrive and remove them from this hot bed of hate. When this episode transfers to television (1959), the producers modify Philips return to white society by having her and her daughter captured by sadistic white buffalo hunters after their release from their original captivity. Matt must rescue them from this new, crueler captivity, but they return to the same sorts of prejudice in Dodge that the original radio characters had encountered. By reiterating the similarity of the townspeople's response to captivity (generalized prejudice versus Matt's informed sympathy), this episode amplifies the same issues or racism manifest in reactions to captivity originally raised in the radio version. Such reiteration and rearticulation constantly reminds audiences to question the categorization of captivity that reductive rhetoric emphasizes.

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233 Other uses of captivity are more cerebral, as in "No Indians" (1954; television adaptation, 1959). This episode validates Native peoples as humane and human when it has Matt prove that Pawnees did not massacre a family of homesteaders; in part, he uses captivity to prove his case, arguing that the Pawnees would have adopted the two twelve-year-old boys instead of killing them. Ethnography disguises the Pawnee humanity inherent in this argument, but provides the evidence Matt needs to prove his case. Indian (1958), offers a twist on this plot. Other episodes invoke captivity as the key to resolving similar dilemmas. For example, the fourth seasons "Indian White" (1955; television adaptation,1956) reveals how prejudice prevents a former captive from reassimilating with his original culture, so much so that he returns to his former captors. Buffalo Man" (1956; television adaptation, 1958) uses captivity by Pawnees as the means to free Matt and Chester from a more insidious captivity at the hands of sadistic white buffalo hunters: the hunters flee when the fear their own captivity by the Pawnees, leaving Matt and Chester to what they hope will be a gruesome fate; instead the Pawnees prove far more humane when the free Matt and Chester, who then join them to track down these white renegade captors. In the seventh season, Incident at Indian Ford (1959; television adaptation, 1961) complicates issues of captivity by having a rescued white woman desire to return to her Arapaho captor, who boldly follows the Army patrol who rescued her single-handedly to rescue her from what he perceives as her captors. Not only does this issue complicate white female responses to captivity as conventionally portrayed, but it also relativizes the terms of captivity by casting the white rescuers as captors. "Docs Indians" (1959) also

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234 relativizes captivity into a form of hostage taking when a group of Indians capture Doc and Kitty so that Doc can treat the chief's sick son. In the eighth and final season, the producers only use captivity once, in Indian Baby" (1960), which reverses conventional images of captivity when it has a white mother who just lost her child kidnap/capture a Native child to replace her recently deceased one. This rearticulation problematizes captivity as an act of violence committed by red captors on white captives. Moreover, this single incident does not indicate any hesitancy on the series part to revise captivity, as we shall see when we witness how many of these radio episodes transfers to television and how many new rearticulation of captivity the television series creates. When the series moves to television, Gunsmoke transfers many of its original radio episodes to the screen, as indicted above. The intent remains the same: to denounce racism, most often through revisionist images of captivity. As with the radio version, the television version launches this campaign form the beginning and maintains it to the end of the series run. For example, in the first season, the television series uses former radio scripts to produce The Hunter (1955; television adaptation,1956), Indian Scout (1956; television adaptation, 1955). In part, this adaptation is born of economics, but it also indicates how the television series is as equally committed to revising captivity conventions as was the original radio series. This adaptation and reaffirmation of the radios original reformulations of captivity continues well into the television series run. The seventh seasons Indian Ford (1959) has Matt and Chester encounter difficulties negotiating the release of a white woman captive from the Arapahoes. Again, in the process, it explores issues of cultural

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235 relativism and diversity through the catalyst of captivity. As extensive as these episodes are, they do not determine the television series identity entirely. At approximately this same time, the television series begins producing its own, original rearticulations of captivity which expand on this earlier base. 10 The television series fifteenth season (1970-1971) coincides with the period Slotkin defines as the crucial year for reformative articulations on captivity (1970). However, Gunsmoke has maintained its revisionist perspective on captivity from the first, well before this date. The occurrence of these episodes at this particular time indicates less a pervasive climate of revisionism born from the triumvirate of films that Slotkin hails, but to a continuation of previous revisionism which Gunsmoke heartily endorses. This season produces three noteworthy examples of this integral aspect of the series. First, "Hawk" (1969) has Indian Police Sergeant Hawk (Brendon Boone) happen upon the home of his mother Phoebe Clifford (Louise Latham) while trailing four renegade Apaches. Clifford had been an Apache captive, but now has assumed a life among whites who know nothing of her captivity. In the process of creating a new identity she has had a new family, who also is unaware of her past. Hawk was her son, born from this captivity, which she left when she returned to her original people. She abandoned him because of his explicit testimony of her having been sexually active with 10 As the following survey reveals, the television series actively rearticulates captivity over several years. For example, "He Learned About Women" (1962), The Guns of Cibola Blanca" (1974), "The Warden" (1964), "The Renegades" (1963), "Shona" (1963), "Chief Joseph" (1965), "The First People" (1968), Chesters Indian (1962), Quints Indian (1963), Kioga (1965), Treasure of John Walking Fox (1966), Wonder (1968), Snow Train (1970), The Scavengers (1970), A Game of Death; An Act of Love (1973). As this brief survey shows, the television version of Gunsmoke offers as many revisionist arguments for captivity and Native peoples as does the radio series. Together, these two platforms voice a decades-long argument for revision. Add to this commitment the stature afforded this series, which is often hailed as televisions longest running drama series with 633 episodes, and we can begin to understand the impact this series has on redefining conventional images of captivity and Native American identity.

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236 her captors. She hates Hawk and wishes to have nothing to do with him since his existence threatens her current stability. Only when Hawk saves her current life and children from the renegades, does Clifford acknowledge her son and her past as a captive. Realizing that she has made a mistake by not voicing that narrative, Clifford gains a new sense of self through her reunion with Hawk. This aspect of empowerment through her captivity redefines and challenges previous roles ascribed to white female captives returned to their original cultures. Later that same season, "The War Priest" (1970) has Kitty (Amanda Blake) captured by an Apache war priest, Gregorio (Richard Anderson) who has escaped from his own captivity by the U.S. Army, which is shipping him and other tribal members off to Florida. However, this episode clearly argues that Kitty faces greater danger from her rescuer, a drunken and abusive Army sergeant (Forrest Tucker). Still later in this season, "Kiowa" (1970) represents an undeniable alternative that both foregrounds racism and the reductivism of standard captivity rhetoric. This revisionist episode begins with fairly standard images: a bucolic homestead violated by the capture of the familys beloved daughter and the consequential wrath and revenge enacted by the family patriarch against the captors. Moreover, this episode references The Searchers with its basic division between its main characters and even its dialogue (e.g. Injuns dont figure on some one who keeps comin on.), but finally echoes LeMays other novel, The Unforgiven The episode begins its revisionist agenda by redefining this standard plotline as captivity-as-complexity: Kiowas capture Melissa Vail (Joyce Adams) as part of a larger strategy to have her know her dying Kiowa mother (Angela Carroll). In the process, Vail

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237 (Victor French) completely changes his original hatred toward the Kiowas for pride in his heritage: he is a half-Kiowa who felt that he could assimilate under the guise of an Indian-hater. Understandably, his sons react with disbelief. However, the preacher who has accompanied them on this quest (Dub Taylor) succinctly defines the purpose of this episode when he comments on Melissas status after she has returned from her captivity: No, she aint changed, but the rest of us is more than a little. This self-reflexive commentary also informs the ways in which this episode has brought audiences to new realizations about Native identity and captivity. The stated change serves as an analog for audience changes as well. Given this consistently high degree of textuality and its prime time space, this episode does much to foreground revisionist issues. The eighteenth season offers The Drummer" (1972) with its unflinching indictment of the senseless slaughter of Native peoples. It further amplifies this indictment by revealing how martinets like Victor French manipulate popular images of captivity into sensational justifications for extermination campaigns. Its primary vehicle for this indictment is the former captive Sarah Morgan (Fionula Flanagan, who will return to work with Ames in the series How the West Was Won) and her revelations of Native humanity--a rhetoric which underscores their victimage and their persecutors inhumanity. Furthermore, this argument argues for revisionist campaigns to reveal other similar manipulations and provide audiences with a more accurate view of history and race. The television version of Gunsmoke also offers continuous revisions of captivity and Native peoples. For example, the nineteenth television season of Gunsmoke offered Women For Sale (1973) offers elaborate reformulations of captivity. First, it offers

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238 captivity-as-commerce when it has Comanches, led by Blue Jacket (Gregory Sierra) capture women and children (among whom are Shani Wallis, Sally Kemp and Dawn Lynn) for the Comanchero trade, here led by Fitzpatrick (James Whitmore). From this staring point, the two-part episode tells two separate revisionist stories. The first involves Matt and former dance-hall-girl Stella (Shani Wallis) rescuing the now-orphaned girl (Dawn Lynn), who. In turn, rescues Stella from her lifestyle. In the process, audiences see how a group of Comanches, who initially seem to threaten the party led by Matt, actually are searching for Blue Jackets band to stop their trade in captives. This articulation labels the captivity-as-commerce as a practice committed by renegades condemnable. From this point, the focus shifts to captivity-as-commodity as practiced by the Comancheros, whose pragmatic defense of their traffic in women/captives jars against Fitzpatricks protgs developing interest in one of the captives. She represents herself as a helpless victim who has legitimate romantic interests for him; however she reveals her true nature after he has helped her escape. In a scene of poetic justice, each kills the other. These two story-lines combine to reinforce the need to reconsider conventional constructions of captivity and identity. The twentieth and final season has one of the most complex rearticulations of captivity in the Gunsmoke series, "The Squaw (1975). After a band of Comanche captures Gristy (John Saxon), who is on the run from both Dillon and his former gang, he must accept a Native woman Quanah (Arlene Martel) in trade. (Her name's resonance with Quanah Parker adds a curious dimension of allusive captivity for those familiar with his and his mother's story.) The band believes that she is bad luck, and so wish to rid

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239 themselves of her. As she dutifully follows Saxon, Dillon captures him and begins his return to Dodge, with the intent of capturing the other outlaws who will want the money they carry from the stage robbery. At this point, this episode introduces the first of its many revisions of captivity. During one of their rest stops, Quanah explains that she is the product of captivity at multiple levels. First, she was born to a Cherokee mother after her mother had been captured and raped. Shunned by her people for having a child while a captive, her mother and she wandered until they found some buffalo hunters, one of whom took her mother as a squaw so that Quanah could eat. After her mother dies, the hunters traded her to the Comanches. This exchange literally and figuratively reveals the complex nature of captivity, as it commodities woman. It argues for red-on-red captivity, for the inordinately severe consequences of captivity for women captives, and for the ways in which the Comanches innovatively redefine captivity as a vehicle to rid themselves of what they perceive as bad luck. This latter point echoes L'Amour's construction in "The Gift of Cochise" and Hondo where Native peoples rearticulate captivity to facilitate a romantic union between male and female protagonists. However, here the emphasis is on the commodification that Quanah has experienced as the product of her mother's captivity, a role that she apparently accepts given her acquiescence to the band's and then Gristy's wishes. At one point she agrees to Gristys argument that she is still his property. Given this recurrent dialogue, we can also see how this episode of Gunsmoke introduces a feminist perspective about women's rights.

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240 This episode endorses the right and ability of women to control their own lives at he end when Quanah has resolved the standoff between the outlaws and Dillon and Gristy. In fact, she reveals herself as having been in control of her and her future husband's fates from the start. She also manages the standoff situation so that Dillon will allow them to go free, while he pursues the outlaws who now have the money. Such self-resolve and reliance undercut any assumptions of feminine inability pronounced in the title "The Squaw" and Quanah's apparent compliance with dominating male figures. By the episode's end, both Dillon and Gristy have realized that she is more than capable of handling herself. Realizing the faults of his own patriarchy and racial bigotry, Gristy articulates the episode's theme of equality, when he tells Quanah: "White or red, a woman's a woman. I learned that the hard way." Such a final pronouncement then underscores the sexist basis for the audience's assumptions first produced by the episode's title "The Squaw." From here they walk off into the sunset, holding hands, and with the assumption that their relationship will grow and deepen. At which point we might say that this is simply another example of the use of captivity to facilitate a romantic union between protagonists, but to do so we would need to ignore the feminist argument integral to this episode. Captivity, as we have seen, is the catalyst for the entire argument. As this lengthy testimony proves, Gunsmoke constantly and consistently promotes racial equality between Anglo and Native peoples, most especially through its representations of captivity. The shows position remains steadfast throughout the entire runs of the television and radio series. Given the stature of the show, and the fact that it

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241 continues to air daily, we can estimate the enormously determinative effect such representations have on contemporary shows and audiences. After the series officially ends, the producers revive the story several more times for made-for-television movies from 1987 to 1994. This revival provides audiences with the opportunity to reexamine issues initiated in the series. Audiences also have access to the series continued revision of captivity as the second movie brings these issues to Matts family. In Gunsmoke II: The Last Apache (1990), Matt must rescue Beth Yardner (Amy Stock Poynton) from her Apache captors led by Wolf (Joe Lara). In the process he and we learn that she is his illegitimate daughter, conceived with Mike Yardner (Michael Lerned). This episode proves Matts superior frontiersman skills, but also profiles the humanity of Beths captors. Audiences also have the additional revisionary perspective that Geronimos two sons are captives in the forts jail, from which Matt rescues them. Childrens Literature Current Context During the Fifties, children's literature runs the gamut of restrictive agendas by authorities like McCarthyism and The Comics Code. The result is a wide range of responses from simplistic stereotype to radical revision. As many childrens authors and creators are actively engaging and redefining those stereotypes as are promoting them. Moreover, the questions of audience and consumption of childrens literature reaches a pinnacle here. Obviously, children are reading and being read both Speares Calico Captive (1957) and Bullas Squanto, Friend of the Pilgrims (1954), and watching episodes of Gunsmoke, and going to see movies like Fort Ti (1951) and Comanche Territory (1950). They would have access to a wide range of representations of captivity (just through comic books, for example), and thus would have been capable of judging a

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242 particular instance from well-informed and sophisticated perspectives--not to mention the basis from works published and produced in previous decades still available to audiences at this time (a situation comparable to current audiences). Positive images of Native peoples in childrens literature abound at this time. For example, Alice Dalgieshs qualified positive endorsement of Native peoples in The Courage of Sarah Noble (1954), which is still required reading in some schools today, alleviates any anxiety over threats from Native peoples toward Anglo peoples. Famed childrens authors Edgar and Ingri dAulaire promote racial harmony through elision in their biography of Buffalo Bill (1952), just as they had in their biography of Pocahontas (1946). Similarly, Clyde Bulla rewrites Squanto's life (1954) so that he is a willing participant in both his captivity and aiding the Pilgrims, as Squanto vows at the biography's end to "be a friend to these people" (105). Margaret Friskey, on the other hand, creates a positive endorsement of Native identity through her Indian Two Feet series about this time (1959), which celebrates tribal life, but does not mention captivity. She and her press will continue this agenda for the next two decades with the Indian Two Feet series. The Childrens Press is also producing other positive endorsements of Native identity, as in its Pioneers (1957), which characterize Indians as nothing more threatening than potential rustlers of wagon train livestock. Francis MacDonalds Star of the Mohawk (1958) combines conventional and revisionist images to promote this juvenile biography of Kateri Tekawitha, a Catholic Mohawk who received official endorsement from the Church. We can find examples of similarly mixed rhetoric in textbooks from this time, as in Living Together Today and Yesterday (1958). As do other contemporary texts, this one

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243 seeks both to inform readers about Native peoples while clearly demonstrating the need for assimilationist programs and the desire by Native peoples for such programs. It does so by downplaying interracial antagonisms, as when it summarizes Anglo/Native race relations as Often there was bad feeling between the Indians and the pioneers (200). As a propagandistic tool, such a presentation would have far-reaching consequences for school-age children in the U. S. during the late Fifties and even into the late Sixties, as such texts continue to circulate in school curricula. We can see how such texts seek to avoid the issues of conflict and bloodshed in red and white relations in the U.S. In this text, only brief mentions occur of such violence, but its discussion of captivity informs a larger agenda relative to captivity. For example, on the same page that audiences read about "bad feelings" between read and white people, they also read how Manifest Destiny occurred relatively easily and bloodlessly for Native peoples. Neither does this text mention elsewhere that captivity was a fact. As far as this text is concerned, captivity (and white aggression) did not exist. This rhetoric is not unique to this one text, but, as we have seen, characterizes other historical instances of captivity (e.g. Pocahontas and Squanto) for similar nationalist aims. Given the weight such historical discourse would have received over more obviously fictional vehicles, we can imagine the confusion created for some audiences by such official erasures and unofficial explorations. We can also imagine how some audiences were able to accept the rhetorical strategy here because they had been exposed to the relativism and revisionism of fictional and factual representations of captivity elsewhere.

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244 And such venues abound, as exemplified through Walt Disney Productions. 11 As anyone who was a kid in the Fifties or knows anything about that periods culture can tell you, Disney initiates a national craze for coonskin caps and attendant frontiersman accoutrements with its Davy Crockett series, which features Fess Parker. Parker stars in five Disneyland episodes of Davy Crockett (1954-56, which are then turned into two feature films for the theater and continue to rerun on television until the present day) before returning to this buckskins for 165 episodes of the primetime television series Daniel Boone (1967-70). Parkers repeated appearances as both preeminent frontiersmen define his character, and often elide the differences between the two original men, as Lofaro and other critics argue. This consistency and constancy also provide viewers with (often) weekly exposures to captivity and its redefinition. One of the best examples of this redefinition of captivity comes in the first installment of the Disney series, Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier (1954). There, Davy single handedly solves the Creek War by preventing his friend Russell's (Buddy Ebsen) death at the hands of his captors. Disney concocts a standard scene of savage captors about to burn a bound white captive at the stake, then has Davy arrive to rescue him with his famous grin and an argument combining the Judeo-Christian ethos against violence ("Thou shalt not kill") with nationalist superiority. He then fights the Creek chief according to "Injun law," because his rhetoric has not yet had its full effect. He then proves that his law (God's and the U.S. Government's commandments) is superior the Creek law (vengeance and violence) by first besting the chief in single combat and 11 In addition, comic books at this time also promote this image. Charltons two-year run of Davy Crockett, Frontier Fighter debuts in 1955. Fighting Davy Crockett also appears that same year. Dells Four-Color series features Crockett numerous times during these years. Into this atmosphere comes Daniel Boone (1955-57), Danl Boone (1955-57), and Exploits of Daniel Boone (1956-57), all capitalizing on Crockett-mania.

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245 then sparing him. In this way captivity functions as a means for both underscoring the captors' savagery, then conversion to the "universalism" Davy imposes on them through his toothy grin and his tomahawk. Such formulations of Crocketts character perpetuate the ideas of Crockett as the outspoken champion of Native peoples in the face of Jacksonian imperialism. This movie represents Crocketts pro-Indian position explicitly--a position in direct contrast to his actual performance on the Congressional floor, his autobiography (where he relates eating potatoes fried in the human fat of Creeks he and his fellow militia men had burned alive in a cabin), 12 and the Crockett Almanacs (for example, which portray him fertilizing his field with the bodies and blood of slain Native warriors, regularly cannibalizing Native peoples, and even sharing a meal of two Native men they had killed with his pet bear and dog). 13 This combination of characteristics determines the entire movie as well. The first half is dedicated to the savagery of tribes who oppose U.S. imperialism, and the second half to Davy's defense of those tribes who follow the nationalist law--to the point of his resigning his congressional post over the government's abuse of that alliance. This curious combination articulates Disney's position on Native peoples, as evidenced by similar ambivalences at Disneylands Frontier Land where visitors could shoot from behind a log palisade at attacking animatronic Indians and then watch real Indians parade past. Similar, though much understated ambivalences exist today, as evidenced by contrasting of the peaceful Indian villages and the burning cabin on the steamboat ride around Tom Sawyers Island at Disney World. Moreover, these films' reruns over the 12 Crockett, A Narrat ive of the Life of David Crockett of the State of Tennessee pp. 88-90.) 13 Cf. particularly Albanese and Lofaro in Lofaros Davy Crockett: The Man, The Legend, the Legacy, 1786-1986 pp. 21-45.

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246 next decades as part of Disney's television series, the Wonderful World of Disney reveal the ways in which such ambivalent formulations continue to exert their influence over extended periods of time. Disney also reproduces similar ambivalences with its production of Conrad Richters Light in the Forest (1958). As we have seen, Richters novel unrelentingly argues for relativism and against racism, points which he explicitly illustrates through staging dialogue and scenes. Disney adapts many of those aspects in its juvenile production (e.g. True Sons protest against charges that Delaware kill women and children and the later scene in which he accuses Little Cranes relatives of warring on children). It even amplifies these aspects by creating Uncle Willsies character as explicitly a coward, murderer, lecher, and alcoholic. Frequently the dialogue in the movie repeats points from the novel. Such repetition reinforces key points of Richters argument. Despite these aspects, the movie finally underscores a racial division that significantly modifies Richters relativism. For example, the movie emphasizes True Sons sacrifice, along with the other captives, as a capitulatory act to allow the Indians to live in peace with the British whose bagpipe displays have overawed. It labels Del Hardys (Fess Parkers) assistance in assimilating True Son as a British gesture to maintain the peace. It dampens the fires that Richter sets by having Hardy and Millie Elder (Joanne Dru) define the solution to True Sons problem of assimilation as his needing a girl. The movie supplies that need through Shenandoah (Carol Lynley), the bond servant of Uncle Willsie and the sole survivor of an Indian massacre, which Willise sensationalizes. Romance ultimately triumphs over True Sons adopted Native identity, so that he assumes the responsibility and identity of a settler in his own homeland

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247 manifest in his and Shenandoahs plighted trough and swelling music at the movies end. But only after he has first assumed the role of patriarchal masculinist able to defend himself physically from the Willsies of the world--an initiation into which Parker flings him. In other words, the assimilationist policies that argued for land ownership and white cultural trappings will finally make whites of Indians. In this way, Disneys version avoids the difficulty of the essentialism Richter so carefully crafted in his novel for a sentimentalized endorsement of assimilation and patriarchy. Despite this continuous reexamination of captivity, Disney also promotes negative images of captivity and Native peoples. For example, Westward Ho the Wagons! (1956) represents captivity as a negative experience, from which captives can rescue themselves if they emulate famous, former captives--a point which it then illustrates when Danny (Jeff York) escapes his Pawnee captives by following John Colter's example, the subject of the protracted song scene in which Doctor John (Fess Parker) had extolled his courage and athleticism, thereby providing Danny with the strategy to survive and conquer his captors. This movie is both a theater release and a two-part feature on the (then weekly) Wonderful World of Disney (and it still runs currently on the Disney Channel), and as such continues to represent its negative message. As these examples illustrate, captivity is negative and a means to winnow the chaff from the grain. Later productions (like Geronimos Revenge 1960) articulate native identity and captivity in sensationalist terms (as a revengeful Geronimo leads a raid on a ranchers family, who save the last bullet for themselves) continue this rhetoric, thereby indicating a generally negative stance toward issues of Native identity.

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248 Similarly negative images occur elsewhere, as in William O. Steeles Tomahawks and Trouble (1955). A kind-hearted Injun! Whoever heard the like? (132) essentially sums up this book, which represents captivity as a fate worse than death and captors as demonic savages, like Tater Nose. The minor instance of Crane Legs compassion for the captive children and their comment on his behavior--It must be that some Indians were good and some were mean, as different as night and day. (85)do not counter the overwhelmingly negative codes Steele invokes here. Similar formulations also define Shannon Garsts Big Foot Wallace of the Texas Rangers (1952). Dee Dunsings War Chant 1954 Despite such deliberate attempts to validate the conventional codes, certain childrens authors intentionally create revisionist works to counter such reductive ideologies. These authors explicitly intend to revise captivity images as part of a larger and longer-term revisionist strategy. One prominent example, to which we shall return, is Elizabeth Speares Calico Captive (1957), which still continues to voice its revisionist message in school curricula today. A lesser known, though no less intense revisionist work is Dee Dunsings War Chant (1954). There, Dunsing explores the permutations and complications that arise from reductive images of captivity and Native identity, and openly challenges the legitimacy of warfare as an instrument for settling differences. She does so by casting her protagonists Rod, an Anglo frontier boy, and his friend Shakochee, a Seminole boy, into the middle of the Second Seminole War. Dunsing constantly and consistently argues that racial stereotypes prevent real understanding between individuals and groups, as when she has Shakochee assist in capturing Rod. Despite Rods protests and questions, Shakochee continues to bind his captive:

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249 Rod got to his feet, his thoughts in a painful turmoil. Why would Shakochee do this to him? Why? There seemed no comforting answer. Was it true, then, as some white folks said, that you couldnt trust an Indian? He had never believed that. Hart had said the Seminoles ethical code was sterner than the white mans. What was wrong that Shakochee would aid in taking Rod prisoner? How could things have changed so? (78) This explicit questioning of racial categories and motives illustrates the ways in which Dunsing constantly places such issues before his readers--with the intent of causing his readers to identify both with the protagonists and their dilemma, and then extend their identification to their own situations and to those represented in other works. Dunsing extends and complicates these issues by introducing Sam Ruther, an evil slave catcher who will sell African and Native Americans. Dunsing has him capture Shakochee, whom Rod frees. She has the pair recall this incident, once Shakochee and his uncle take Rod captive to their village (80-81). Toward the end of the book, he reintroduces the threat from Ruther both personally to the two boys and generally to any tentative peace between Seminoles and settlers. Ruthers reappearance reintroduces the constellation of issues about captivity and slavery that Dunsing had first used. In doing so, Dunsing joins other authors who have used captivity-as-context and captivity-as-conspiracy. 14 When Speare explores a similar constellation of captivity issues in a Canadian setting, she also encourages dialogue and debate about captivity and its construction. Elizabeth George Speares. Calico Captive 1957 In Calico Captive (1957), Newberry Award-winning author Elizabeth George Speare requires young readers to question the dominant definition of captivity as red 14 Despite her extensive redefinition of captivity here, Dunsing only tangentially explores it in the sequel to this novel, The Sem inole Trail (1956). There she has Rod captured again, but only as an accidental circumstance to his initial capture by Galda. Instead, she focuses mostly on Rods solving the mystery of a Mesoamerican artifact.

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250 violence inflicted upon white captives. Primarily, she does so by juxtaposing Miriam Willard's "captivity" among the Indians with her "slavery" among the French. In the process, Speare deliberately goes beyond a simple translation of Willards published captivity narrative to explore the deeper psychological issues of captivity, finally arguing a relativistic claim that prevents all expect the most dogmatic from seeing this novel as a revision of conventional codes of captivity and Native identity. To achieve such a rearticulation, first Speare personalizes the issues through her title character, Miriam, the Calico Captive, and her young nephew, Sylvanus. She distinguishes their individual reactions to their captivities based on gender and age differences, but allows neither captive to experience anything more torturous than some severe teasing and harsh winter conditions. She has Miriam avoid her potential marriage and her apparent horrors at miscegenation quite easily before depositing her in Montreal with its severe class and national discrimination against Anglos. She has Sylvanus, on the other hand, experience captivity as a fantasy from which he does not want to leave. By dividing her image of captivity between these two distinct experiences Speare represents the major possibilities of captivity, but then employs her more radical revisionism when she has Miriam consider Sylvanus' captivity. In her most explicit passages, Speare focuses the issues of captivity through Miriam's perspectives on the captivity of her young nephew, Sylvanus. She represents Sylvanus' love for his captors' lifestyle and his ultimate assimilation among them as the platform for her own endorsement of Native American cultures. To make her point explicit, she crafts an extended scene which combines Sylvanus' assimilation with a debate on Indian policy. Speare begins by having Willard fall in love with Pierre, a couer

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251 d'bois who has become a French officer in the French and Indian War. She also has Pierre love Willard, but has their national identities complicate their love, as when they walk through the streets of Montreal observing its inhabitants and visitors. Willard avoids the Indians on the streets, which causes Pierre to ask her about her captivity. In the process, Speare stages a scene that directly confronts standardized images of captivity: "Why are you so skittish about the Indian, anyway? Did they treat you so badly?" No, they didn't," Miriam admitted. "It was entirely different from what we expected. But you cant trust them. You never know what they'll do the next minute." "That shows you don't understand them. You have to learn to get along with the Indians. That's something you English have never bothered to try." "But why should we?" Miriam countered, astonished at the idea. Pierre shrugged. "That depends. It is the Indian's country, n'est-ce pas? I know, I've watched your English traders. They go clomping through the forest in their English boots. They are bound to show the Indians who is master, even if they get scalped doing it. We French now, we have a different idea. A sort of give and take, you might call it." "You mean you lower yourselves to their ways?" "There you go! What makes you so sure their ways are lower? The Indians lived in these woods long before we ever came here. They can teach us plenty. How far do you think the coureurs would have gone--almost as far as the great western sea--without the Indians' help?" Pierre's free arm swept in a wide arc toward the west. "I've got Indian friends out there better than any white man I know. Don't let this uniform fool you, my girl. If I had my way I'd trade it for Indian breeches as fast as I could snap a finger." (201-02) Speare first has Willard deny that her captivity had been horrific--"It was entirely different from what we expected." However, she still has Willard suspicious of Indians, a move which allows her to then introduce the idea of nationalist differences in treating

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252 Indians as the cause of the current war. Speare further emphasizes that English prejudice against Native peoples precipitates acts like captivity and, by contrast, relativist stances allow greater international cooperation (western exploration and colonialism) and individual realization (Pierre's own love of the woods). Pierre's final statement about the greater value of some of his Indian friends underscores these two points. But Speare does not leave this issue at the level of national differences of policy. She emphasizes captivity as a central component of this international exchange. In this formulation, captivity becomes a negative result of English nationalist policies prejudicial towards Native peoples. In other words, the English cause themselves to be captured because of their racial prejudice. If they would be more accommodating, like the French, they would be happier and more successful. To illustrate this point, Speare then brings Sylvanus onto the stage. Pierre tries to catch and hold him for Willard to return him to her sister, but lets him go. Willard accuses him of deliberately letting Sylvanus go, to which Pierre replies in a scene which further underscores Speare's argument here: Pierre shrugged. "I've no liking to see any animal in captivity," he said deliberately. "But he is in captivity! He's an English boy! He's my nephew!" She was sobbing hysterically. Pierre laid a hand on her shoulder. "Did he look like a captive? He is free as the air, like a young fox cub. Think a moment, Miriam. What were you going to do with him? Pen him up in some hole with a couple of women? Do you want to turn him into skin and bones like you?" "I don't understand you!" Miriam sobbed He is a white boy. He belongs to us, to his own people, and he's growing up to be a savage!" "What if he is?" demanded Pierre. "You and your talk about savages! He's living the best life a boy could have, and I would to heaven I could change places with him!" (204)

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253 Speare uses her language here (e.g. "deliberately," "captive," "savages") to problematize these very categories. She further introduces the idea of racial identity only to have Pierre refute it. This scene, taken immediately after the debate between Willard and Pierre about her captivity experiences and English prejudice, provides the final exclamation of Speare's perspective on Native peoples and the debilitating effects that captivity has had on U.S./Native policies. The continued prominence of her work today indicates that its argument continues to effect its changes. Comics Current Context The Comics Code is rightfully synonymous with the Fifties. Since its adoption on 26 October 1954, critics have debated the effects of The Code of the Comics Magazine Association of America, Inc (most commonly referred to as The Comics Code). Such debate is widespread and easily accessible to anyone interested in the effects of The Code (eg. Comicbook Confidential ). All these critics note the debilitating effects that the Code had on comics for the next two decades: overall decline in sales; the bankruptcy of several publishers; the virtual extermination of certain comic genres, like crime and horror; etc. Sabin argues that the number of comics titles drops from 6300 in 1952 to 250 in 1956, while readership plummets from around 60 million to below 35 million (163). Coincidently, he notes a rise in television viewing: around 8,000 in 1946 to 57 million in 1960--which he claims is not the cause but a contributing factor in preventing comics recovery after the Code. Along with other critics, Sabin argues that another consequence of the Code is the shift in comics to more juvenile content: the resurgence of superheroes (especially the Marvel line), and the continued popularity of the goofy

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254 teenager ( Archie ) and funny animals (primarily published by Dell, whose main line was the Disney comics, described by one historian as the epitome of clean) (163). Despite such negative effects, the Code may have encouraged greater exploration of Native American identity and issues of captivity through its severe strictures. Horns argument bears directly on this idea: The Code had a disastrous impact on most adventure comic books, but in a perverse way it helped sustain the popularity of the Western. Because of the traditional, almost ritual depiction of Western violence, the genre was less emasculated by the Code than the more objectionable crime, horror and superhero comics. Westerns thrived in this second half of the decade, with new creations out in numbers almost equal to those of the preceding years. (99-101) Horns assertion helps explain in part how revisionist representations of Native peoples and captivity might have flourished at this time. His assertion also informs how such images can navigate the Codes language prohibiting violence. The Codes language seems to apply directly to captivity themes and narratives in this periods comics. Predictably, the Code constantly offers heavy censure for crime-related material, excessive violence, and nudity (particularly female nudity), while upholding institutions like marriage, organized religion, law enforcement. With the possible exception of Article 7, Part A of the General Standards, it does not specifically address issues of captivity. Article 7 states that Scenes of excessive violence shall be prohibited. Scenes of brutal torture, excessive and unnecessary knife and gun play, physical agony, gory and gruesome crime shall be eliminated (Sabin 251). Since this statute was designed to attenuate the graphic representations of torture in places like EC Comics, then it would seem to apply necessarily to representations of captives being tortured by their captors as well as those of prisoners and victims of organized crime popularized in horror comics.

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255 If so applied, this article would dictate less sensationalized representations of that torture than otherwise might have been drawn. Furthermore, Article 10 states: The crime of kidnapping shall never be portrayed in any detail, nor shall any profit accrue to the abductor or kidnapper. The criminal or the kidnapper must be punished in every case (Sabin 251). Those comics depicting captivity by Native Americans of Anglo Americans generally conform to this article. Avenging rescuers leave a path of dead bodies as they rescue their captives, the kidnappers (captors) are punished in every case. However, as many comics from the Fifties engage these restrictions through their depictions of Native Americans and particularly those engaged in acts of captivity. Moreover, these comics continue the general trend of revising stereotypical images of Native peoples and captivity that they had advanced less than a decade ago (as in Firehair ). One of the most intense campaigns occurs on the pages of Straight Arrow comics. Straight Arrow ,1950-1956 Straight Arrow argues consistently for revisionist positions on captivity and Native identity. Based solely on the covers, Straight Arrow argues that captivity is a relative term given the many examples of red-on-red captivity that appear there. These covers usually show Straight Arrow astride Fury rescuing another tribal person from a village of hostile captors as do the covers of Number 14 where Straight Arrow rescues a female captive at the run and the covers of Number 37 where Straight Arrow frees his young protg Tioga from a torture stake. Both of these covers emphasize Straight Arrow's heroism, the victims' gratitude for their rescue, and the menace of their captors. As such, these covers and their stories reinforce conventional images of captivity by casting it with red faces.

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256 However, the stories within these and other covers reveal more elaborate arguments about captivity than these standard images do. For example, the cover of Number 22 (1952) depicts Straight Arrow rescuing white captive from the maniacal savagery of the a conventional captor who clutches a small white child's hair in one hand and a tomahawk poised to strike in the other, while the child's mother frantically tries to prevent the blow, and Straight Arrow leaps from the back of Fury to thwart this diabolical act. Straight Arrows action here informs his general character of authority figure who will dispense justice equally--an identity originating outside comics. Born from an advertising campaign to promote Nabisco Shredded Wheat, Straight Arrow first appears as a radio show (regionally from 1948-49, then nationally 1949-51), then migrates to comic books (1950-1956), and finally runs as a nationally distributed comic strip (1950-51). Characters with dual identities are not unique. But what is unique about Straight Arrow is that the title character is a Native American who disguises himself as an Anglo. Granted, his duality results from the companys request to allow him to explore a range of criminal possibilities (e.g. bank-robbing, escaped convicts, etc.) that a purely tribal identity would not allow. However, this casting of the hero as a Comanche orphan raised by whites, does markedly differ from the more standard plot line of orphaned whites raised by Indians (as we have seen countless times before). Straight Arrow/Steve Adams' sense of justice and the need for imposing that justice on the world originate from his adopted family (ala Superman), but the scriptwriters also introduce elements that encourage audiences to question racial bigotry and its effects as well as the possibilities of captivity. Often, these two issues merge into single arguments.

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257 Occasionally, the stories using captivity follow predictable patterns, as in "The Golden Peril!" (# 54) which has Tioga once again captured, this time as bait for a marauding cougar. Stories like "The City of Gold" ( Straight Arrow Number 43) utilize standard plot elements (e.g. hidden Apache cities of gold where captives are sacrificed and "Apache torture [as] the worst of all. Elsewhere in these volumes, the editors offer more complex rearticulations of captivity and Native American identity. For example, "A Birthday Present for Polly" ( Straight Arrow, # 37) represents the range of possible responses to captivity, and in so doing complicates what would otherwise be a conventional scene of captivity. "Captured by the Osages!" ( Straight Arrow # 54) redefines captivity as an intertribal practice; "The Mark of the Wolf" ( Straight Arrow # 43) extends this boundary by having Straight Arrow and a pack of wolves rescue Wolfpaw from his captors. Other stories more directly engage conventional rhetoric by shifting it onto Native peoples. From its title's allusion to saving the last bullet to its storys final panel in which red and white captives emerge from their mutual captivity at the hands of renegades, The Last Arrow" ( Straight Arrow # 43) refers to the conventional image of the last bullet saved from potential captives, but here subverts it by having Straight Arrow uses the last arrow to save his friend Packy from his renegade captors. The supplemental stories in Straight Arrow, which chronicle the adventures of a Cheyenne warrior Red Hawk, also argue for red on red captivity. For example, "The Bear Stick" ( Straight Arrow # 33) contrasts conventional rhetoric ("come to raid again for helpless maidens,") with revisionist images (Red Hawk rescuing Singing Doe from her Sioux captors) to complicate reductive. Varying this theme, "The Women Warriors"

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258 ( Straight Arrow # 35) offers the standard patriarchal fantasy of Amazon captors who "must learn their place" as domestic slaves to males. Other comic books at this time similarly question identity and captivity. For example, the Apache Kid was captured as a child by Apaches as part of their leaders ultimate scheme to brainwash him as a spy against whites. However, in time Red Hawk, the leader, changes his position and then encourages the Apache Kid to fight for justice for both races, as we learn in the introductory story The Challenge (# 8, 1951). He uses his dual identity as an Apache and as a white (Alloysius Kare) to affect his end. This liminality also informs the cover for this issue. There we see the Apache Kid prominently dancing a stereotypical war dance, while behind him a fire blazes and two white male captives languish while tied to stakes. These images dominate the cover, and as such contextualize his identity as a stereotype. However, this cover also complicates this categorization by featuring other white males who witness this dance and the captives with apparently malicious intent. Moreover, this covers subtitle asks the question directly Apache Kid: Indian or White Man? These complications alter the apparent sensationalist rhetoric the cover so graphically promotes. This cover also operates directly opposite to the rhetoric used on the cover of a Lone Ranger comic (# 86, 1955) which seeks to sell its comics through its exploitation of its image of a captive Lone Rangewhich has no basis in this issues stories. In this respect, it follows other comics covers which use sensationalized rhetoric to sell the book, despite any connection to their contents (e.g. the Indian ambushes on the covers of Western Comics # 9, 1949 and Indian Warriors # 11, 1951).

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259 Other comics from this period, like Indian Chief White Eagle also advance the notion of red-on-red captivity while avoiding the extremes of sensationalized covers or standard images of captivity to advance their revisionist agendas. For example, in The Secret of the Yellowknives ( Indian Chief: White Eagle # 31, 1958) complicates the gendered stances inscribed by patriarchal narratives of captivity. Furthermore, this comic also complicates similar stances inscribing nationality and racial identity by having Native peoples capturing other Natives for slaves. Other stories, like Grey Wolf ( Redskin # 11, 1952), have Native rescuers for Native captives. In The Iron Trail (1957) Brave Eagle must rescue a fellow tribesman held captive by unscrupulous white railroad workers who plan to use his presence to cover their robbery of the companys pay train. Other stories amplify these possibilities, as in this introductory story to Wild Western (# 38, 1954), the Ringo Kid, half-Comanche crime-fighter, rescues his mothers band from a group of scalp hunters. Prior to their rescue, a Comanche woman makes explicit that they must do what is necessary if they cannot hold off the scalp hunters: We will take our own lives rather than let the white man kill or capture us! Her ultimatum echoes that of countless contemporary and previous ultimatums by white characters when threatened by red warriors: death rather than captivity. Here, her use of that rhetoric reverses the normal terms of such an assertion about the extreme negative effects of red captivity of white captives, and thereby redefines captivity as a relative term. Such (re)presentations emphasize the limitations of negative constructions of Native identity and captivity. Some do so explicitly, as in Redskins Cheyenne Justice

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260 (# 3, 1951), when Redskin, Champion of the Cheyenne, captures a would-be white thief and holds him for the authorities, much to the thiefs dismay since he believes the conventional rhetoric about captivity-as-violence. Redskin explains: We are not as savage as you would believe. We, too, obey laws that are just and good. The Sheriff immediately adds: He speaks the truth. And if more of your kind would realize that, thered be less trouble between white men and red! Such an explicit condemnation of racism and its effects indicates the receptivity of audiences to such revisionist perspectives. This same year Indian Warriors formerly White Rider and Super Horse begins its Last of the Mohicans serial, which privileges Uncas and Chingachgook over Hawkeye. Other comics also portray Native peoples in a positive light. For example, Tontos didactic story The Horse Raid ( The Lone Rangers Companion, Tonto, # 17, 1955) features only Native characters in a positive lesson to readers. Western Fighters (1950) illustrates a climate of tolerance for Native peoples, while Blazing Sixguns (#16. 1954) features a positive image of Grey Wolf. Similarly, Marvels The Cheyenne Kid (1957-1974) promotes positive images of Native identity and captivity. As part of such recontextualizing agendas, comics also incorporate educational material in their comics. 15 In part, such an inclusion placates the censure of The Comics Code, but it also illustrates the general drive toward redefining prior, reductive relationships through ethnographic material. For example, Western Comics (#55, 1956) includes a brief three-panel explanation of Indian Tribal Names, detailing how the origin of the tribal name Arapaho to create awareness among readers of the reductive 15 Not all educational elements are positive, however. In its series on famous forts, Lee Hunter, Indian Fighter (# 904, 1958) profiles Fort Laramie, under whose guns peace was established for the Plains tribes.

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261 rhetoric that stabilizes tribal identity through tribal names. By calling attention to construction in this way, such educational aspects also seek to call attention to the construction of identity in other venues. Elsewhere, the inside front cover of Little Beaver (# 744, 1956) explains that Indian hunters acquire their phenomenal skills through schooling, and that young readers should be just as diligent in their own, yet different, studies. This comparative analogy seeks to erase racial difference. And The Lone Rangers Companion, Tonto (# 17 1955) contains a brief explanation about the common origin of Apache and Navaho peoples, despite their eventual differences. This aspect of Western comics continues into the next decade with features like Indian Weather in Tomahawk (1965) and similar features in Turok comic books. Occasionally, competing representations of captivity and Native identity appear in the same volume problematizing the conventional images, as happens between Daniel Boone and the Cherokee War Drums and has Flaming Arrows of the Son of Fire ( Redskin # 3, 1951). Similar ambivalences occur between The Prisoner in the Pueblo and Challenge of the Pacific in Ben Bowie and the Mountain Man (# 8, 1956). As these brief examples indicate, major and minor comic book titles are equally involved in revisionism. Such revisionism does not confine itself to comic books. A battle against conventional representations of Native peoples and captivity occurs daily in comic strips. Perhaps the most prominent example is Warren Tufts strips Casey Ruggles (1949-1954) and Lance (1955-1960). When Casey Ruggle s ends in 1954, Tufts transfers his authenticity-oriented style and content to Lance originally a full-page Sunday syndicated strip, which has dwindled to a third-page size by 1960 when it ends. As Casey Ruggles had also done, Lance seeks to represent the West in unflinching terms at a

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262 time when more conventional shoot-em-ups and juvenile western adventures predominate (probably as a result of the Code).

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CHAPTER 7 THE SIXTIES They also returned a woman they had captured. But you see the complication was this: Indians wasn't ever organized. Them that come in to apologize wasn't the same as what killed the whites. And them that the soldiers usually punished was never the ones who had committed the outrages. The white people on whom the Indians took revenge had no connection with the soldiers. --Thomas Berger Little Big Man Youre a white woman, the only one there was. I am not a white woman. My face is white, my eyes are the eyes of a white woman. I have often been ashamed of that. But my heart is Nocona. My baby is Nocona. Why do you want me? Cloud looked to Miguel for help and got none. But you are white, he said, knowing it wasnt answer enough. --Elmer Kelton, Texas Rifles Many novels appear at the beginning of this decade which offer prominent and profound redefinitions of captivity. For example, Zane Greys posthumous novel Bluefeather (1961) recreates PreContact Native culture in which captivity occurs within fairly conventional terms, as when the Sheboyahs discover Bluefeathers (69). This novels setting emphasizes that captivity is a universal act, not one simply predicated on red-white antagonisms. This particular rearticulations' appearance in 1961 indicates a large general interest in such captivity narratives at this time, almost a decade before Slotkin claims such interest erupts as a result of the Vietnam War and the movies Little Big Man Soldier Blue and A Man Called Horse Such interest results from the constant and continuous production by revisionists of works that counter conventional 263

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264 formulations of Native identity and captivity. This novel is yet another example of the consumption of such work and its attendant revisionist attitudes by a general audience. As we have seen in the last chapter, the history of Will Cook's novels constituting his A Saga of Texas series (1959) informs the concentrated interest in captivity that redefines conventions at this particular time. Approximately a year before it appears as perhaps his most famous novel Comanche Captives (1960), he serializes it in The Saturday Evening Post (1959). Then, approximately a year after its publication in novel form, John Ford directs the Columbia movie version of it, Two Rode Together (1961, starring Jimmy Stewart and Richard Widmark). Given these people's reputation and rank, this constellation of actors and director indicates the importance this story occupied in that periods dialogue about race and captivity. Moreover, this time Ford produces a complicated rearticulation of many of the prior conventions upon which he had relied so heavily in his Cavalry Period. Also, we can see how Hollywood generally is exploring revisionist captivity narratives during the end of the Fifties and beginning of the Sixties by noting the coincidence of movies like Comanche Station Flaming Star and The Unforgiven (all 1960). Similarly, a metaphor of this change occurs in the increasing involvement with revision manifest in the production of Clair: She coauthors the screenplay for Wellmans The Comancheros (1961), but authors and screen writes both Flaming Star (1960) and Flap (1970). Moreover, authors like Will Henry are producing works like From Where The Sun Now Stands (1960) and The Pitchfork Patrol (1962, under his pseudonym Clay Fisher), revealing prejudice and promoting Native American ways. We must also take into consideration all the other works we have previously cited, but perhaps most

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265 particularly those of the later Fifties that we have reviewed. On the basis of such overwhelming evidence, we can see how Slotkin's weighting of the end of the Sixties denies the momentum of the decade's beginning, which was very heavy indeed. Fiction One work in particular that calls such an end-loaded formulation into question comes from Bill Gullick, famous for his The Hallelujah Trail (1965). This time he adds one of his humorous Western short stories to this growing list of works from the first years of the Sixties that revise captivity. His "The White Warrior" (1960) offers a revised version of captivity, with the white protagonists helping the red protagonist, No-Horses, capture the Nez Perce woman he loves, since he has no horses (hence his name) or war honors with which to impress her father. In the process, they capture the wrong woman, and in their attempt to return her kill four Blackfeet warriors and take their horses, which they agree to give to No-Horses so that he can marry his love. Not only does this story argue for the "truth" behind the narrative, and readers' sensibility of the narrative as product (as countless other narratives have argued), but it also argues for captivity as a relative event, which may improve intercultural relations. In doing so, Gullick has articulated much at the heart of the revisionist philosophy. Similarly John Barths The Sot-Weed Factor (1960) employs comedic rearticulation as its primary mode for revising conventional images of captivity and Native peoples. In its non-stop satirical free-for-all, Barth's novel (re)presents captivity in a variety of ways (e.g. Ebeneezer and McEvoy's captivity by Tayac Chicamec, 539-79). It further questions conventional captivity by introducing portions of John Smith's secret journals where readers learn that when he and his company are captive among the Ahatchwooks, he tricks Burlingame into an eating contest as both the means for their

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266 freedom from their captors but also from Burlingame himself (557-65). Barth's novel also complicates conventional claims about the devastating effects of captivity on white women captives through Church Creek Virgin's experiences; the narrative's inability to determine whether she "goes Indian" because of the hideous effects of miscegenation or through her own volition (609) briefly summarize issues that will surround captive's choices (particularly those of white women captives) in longer forms (like Capps' A Woman of the People 1966). Of all these complications, perhaps the most notable is the way in which this novel reveals the "truth" behind the John Smith/Pocahontas legend. Here, Barth succinctly reduces the entire episode to a venereal contest, which Smith wins by a secret eggplant concoction that maximizes his miniscule member, thereby allowing him to deflower Pocahontas publicly in the ceremony, and thereby win his and his companions their freedom (730-34). Barth forces this scene to the excesses of absurdity to argue that, in part, captivity narratives are political mechanisms which may differ radically from their published form. By so doing, and by so targeting this primary narrative, Barth encourages his readers to question the "truth" behind all captivity narratives--to approach them with skepticism and with sophistication. Barth's revisionist philosophy echoes earlier attempts at similar audience sensitization using the Smith narratives (e.g. Whoopee [1930] and Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas [1938]), yet it finally differs markedly from them given the extent to which Barth pushes his narrative retelling both in form and content. In this sense it amplifies and extends these earlier messages relentlessly. Furthermore, given the continued success and popularity of this book (reprinted in 1967 and 1987 and part of many college courses and libraries), Barth's

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267 argument continues to sound its revisionist message today--a recurrent function performed by many revisionist works. Elmer Keltons Texas Rifles 1960 Another major example of revisionism at the beginning of the Sixties comes from famed Western author Elmer Kelton. His Texas Rifles (1960) offers a complex and continuous rearticulation of captivity. Lawrence Clayton claims economic self-determination defines Keltons works: Since he has supported himself as a journalist, Kelton has had the freedom to produce his own brand of fiction and has not been compelled to make concessions in order to place his work with publishers (11). Further, Clayton argues that Kelton turns from the pulps to longer fiction pieces because of the devastation unleashed by television in the Fifties. Regardless of these motives, Kelton consciously and conscientiously crafts arguments in several of his novels that revise standard images of captivity and Native peoples. Admittedly, some of Keltons works represent Native peoples negatively. For example, Buffalo Wagons (1956), Keltons first Western Writers of America Spur Award winner, uses captivity as a means for establishing a romantic union for its two protagonists, the buffalo hunter Gage Jameson and the captive he rescues, Celia Westerman. In doing so, her Comanche captors predictably fall into conventional categories that lack any real character development. As Clayton argues, this lack derives primarily from Keltons representation of Native peoples from the perspective of their Anglo antagonists, and should not be confused with Keltons own perspective (45-46). In contrast to Buffalo Wagons Keltons The Texas Rifles (1960) explores captivity from several angles before it ultimately subsumes captivity to romance (an apparently common move among revisionists given the work of previous authors like Grey and

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268 Morrow). It has, however, raised a formidable array of questions about captivity that empower readers to question the hegemony of conventional representations of captivity and Native identity. Kelton begins this initiative by employing captivity in The Texas Rifles in a variety of competing ways. First, he uses captivity to underscore the differences between his protagonist Sam Houston Cloud and his commanding officer in the Texas Rifles, Captain Aaron Barcroft. Barcroft drives his company of militia under his extreme authority; his hatred for Comanches defines him as a zealot. Cloud initially confronts this hatred, finding himself at odds with it and Barcroft until they attack a Comanche village. After the Tejanos round up the survivors, Cloud learns that Barcrofts mania derives from the loss of his family to Comanche captors. Later, Cloud apologizes to the captain for having condemned him as a bigot: I didnt know about your wife and little girl then. Man goes through a thing like that, he sees things differently from other folks, I guess (72). Barcroft then shares with Cloud more details about his wifes death and his daughters capture. This detailing allows Kelton to complicate what could simply function as justification for bigotry and murder. In doing so, he avoids the simple solutions of binarism and inversion to tell this complicated tale of captivity. Here, Kelton uses captivity-as-communication to complicate the single-mindedness manifest in Barcrofts actions by having Barcroft confess his own doubts about his daughters condition. However, Kelton avoids using captivity simply as a means for explaining Barcrofts extremist positions. To do so, he introduces Easter Routledge immediately after this exchange between Cloud and Barcroft.

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269 Clouds reaction to Easters Anglo identity echoes Jamesons reaction to Cellas identity. And Kelton has both characters conclude that these women cannot be anything but captives, because of their racial identity. However, here Kelton has Cloud (and with him readers) modify this reductive position to accommodate a multitude of possibilities--realizing the complexities inherent in captivity experiences. He further modifies that position by having Easter undergo a second captivity by her Tejano rescuers/captors. Her Tejano captors force her literally back into her identity as a white woman. Their insistent demands that she is white deny any possibility to her for her assimilated identity. As Kelton later makes clear, she had been recaptured and resubjected to an assimilation process that denies her immediate identity. By having Easter/Little Doe have a baby when she is recaptured, Kelton further complicates the issues of racial identity. Barcroft immediately reacts with horror and disgust at the thought that the baby could be hers (79). Again, Kelton avoids simple binaries and inversions, by having Cloud visibly work through his own ambivalences toward Easters sexuality. As he considers the logic behind her having had a baby, Cloud comes to a conventional conclusion: This line of thought brought him around to what worried him the most--the baby. Sure, she had probably been taken by the Indians when she was too young to know much about white mens ways, white mens rules. And she was probably married, too, insofar as Indians could be married in the view of the white man. A man couldnt blame her for what happened. Even a grown woman, taken in captivity, could not help herself. Well, he told himself, it wouldnt happen anymore. He had found her, and she was safe now. Safe--but at what a price! (85) This last qualification indicates Keltons position relative to conventional conclusions. Here, too Kelton formulates what will determine most of the remaining plot for The

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270 Texas Rifles : How do conventional images of captivity and Native identity influence the reassimilation of former captives among their original Anglo culture? In this last half of the novel, Kelton carefully interweaves assertions that delimit Easter and white women captives as victims needing rescue by white male authorities who can rescue and return (restore?) them to their former lives with assertions that questions that privileging. In doing so, he generates a dialogue which concludes that her rescue may not have been necessarily the right or the best thing for her. Clouds thinking here articulates questions of identity in complex ways that inform Keltons novel. As he develops the remainder of the novel, Kelton has Cloud maintain this line of thinking, and even Barcroft begin to bend towards it. By so casting his main male characters, Kelton proposes an alternative to Barcrofts bigotry against Native peoples and women. Cloud comes to realize the myopic reductivism of such positions and changes his initial orientation from them. Clouds continuous confrontation with his own prejudices leads him to redefine his positions. Kelton privileges Clouds ability to modify, and in doing so privileges a position on captivity that values relativity. Elmore Leonards Hombre 1961 and 1967 An equally intense psychological study of the effects of captivity occurs in Elmore Leonards Hombre (1961). This novel offers compelling portraits of former captives adjusting to their prior cultures. Primarily, it focuses on Tres Hombres (Ish-kay-nay, Juan, or John Russell) but it also reveals the prejudices faced by the McClaren girl. This dual approach allows Leonard to argue more effectively for the revisionary aspects of captivity than he could have by only focusing on Russell. In other words, had Leonard only represented Russells experiences, audiences and critics could easily consider Hombre an idiosyncratic portrait rather than a commentary on captivity. Instead,

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271 Leonard insures that readers will accept the need to rearticulate conventional captivity narrative images. Moreover, Leonard focuses unrelentingly on the liminal effects caused by captivity and their consequences to the former captives and their redeemed culture. Throughout this novel, Leonard represents Russells unwillingness to capitulate to conventional demands for behavior and identity, as when he first has Mendez and Hombre talk (12-14). Mendez continually appeals to Hombre to think and talk in English, so that Hombre could realize the necessity and inevitability of conforming to conventional capitalist identities Maybe it would look different if you thought about it in English. to which Hombre replies Its the same. For Hombre, language, culture and identity within those constructs are superfluous to the essential. He articulates this philosophy throughout the novel with his actions and in exchanges like that with the narrator when he doesnt tell the passengers That [hes] not what they think (60). His captivity has allowed him the perspective to recognize the hypocrisy of maintaining conventions--a solution which he rejects. Leonard has Hombre maintain this position throughout the novel, and has the narrator confront readers with their own constructions of perspective, as when the narrator asks the readers Maybe you can see why Hombre acts the way he does (55). The driving force behind his revisionism is Hombres captivity and the multiple perspectives it has caused and allowed him to have. Against this revisionism, Leonard pointedly poses Favors opportunism. In the process, he also stages an exchange between these two characters which reveals the excesses of racism inflicted upon Native peoples on reservations (50-52). Again, Hombres captivity has allowed him to be an Apache policeman and a white man

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272 simultaneously. This liminality allows him to recognize the intricacies of the political machine grinding Native peoples into dust. This scene also illustrates how Leonard uses the McLaren girl to reveal both the extent of the Favors racism and the basis of negative representations of Native peoples and captivity which underpins it. Further, he has Russell intervene when Mrs. Favor grills the McLaren girl about how her captivity has changed her to indicate to readers the source of her condemnations (49-50). As such, Leonard uses both Hombres and the McLaren girls captivities in concert to argue against the negative rhetoric they face from the other characters. When the novel becomes a movie in 1967, all of the McLaren girls captivity disappears. Instead, the movie focuses on Hombres (Paul Newmans) incompatibility with Anglo American culture. It retains the stagecoach scene in which Hombre pointedly reveals his having lived with the Apaches in the squalid conditions precipitated by the Favors greed. Therein lies the main thrust of the movie: revising racist views of Native peoples; captivity merely provides the means for doing so in the form of Hombre. This movie offers sympathy for the Indians, as the Favors (Barbara Rush and Frederic March) condescendingly phrase it, with a relentless sense of purpose. It represents the non-Apache world which Hombre enters as one of equally relentless racism, particularly against Native people. It maintains the relativism of the novels original representation of identity and captivity. It frequently tosses out comments like Mendezs description of Hombre as having been raised among red devils to be a red devil. The movie then uses the stagecoach ride literally and figuratively to serve as a vehicle for explicitly confronting these racist positions, clearly defining the characters.

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273 Since the female captive is no longer present, the scene attaches itself to Hombre and his captivity as a past event which has singled him out from other non Native people. Yet the movie also offers a metaphoric captivity, when Grimes (Richard Boone) presents Mrs. Favor, bound and tortured before the passengers. As the movie clearly reveals, none of those passengers, except Jessie (Dianne Cilento) and Hombre, consider rescuing her. This scene, like the stagecoach scene, contrasts the participants admissions with their action. Otherwise, the movie offers its strongest argument for revision of captivity and Native identity issues through Hombres character and the consequences of that character. The movie does, however, save a final, poignant image to underscore its relativist position on captivity and identity. The final still image in its montage is that of an actual photograph: one taken at the time of Geronimos capture in 1886 of a white boy captive in Geronimos camp. The photograph suggests that the boy is Russell, close to the time of his capture, when his story begins and, now, ends. Captivity and identity, as manifest in this anonymous figures presence, defy conventional reduction, just as this final, anonymous image provides its own silent testimony. Other works at this time also explore the complexities of captivity, though with less subtlety. For example, Walter O'Meara's In the Country of the Walking Dead (1962) offers a schizophrenic recounting of John Tanner's captivity narrative, alternately praising then demonizing (literally, e.g. 11) Native peoples. O'Mearas explanation of the origin of captivity also reflects an ambivalent position toward captivity and Native peoples. Captivity of whites by red captors, he claims, was the result of Native peoples' devastation by the white man's sickness (41). Earlier he had claimed that Indians take

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274 women captives as concubines and some children for adoption (11). While such generalizations and hasty conclusions indict OMearas scholarship, they also indicate that readers would accept such qualified reformulations of captivity well before the end of the Sixties. In other words, readers are willing to question the simple formulation of captivity as a consequence of Native excess. O'Meara's work resonates with contemporaries like Dale Van Everys American Frontier Series (1961 to 1963) and Berger's Little Big Man (1964) in seeking to revise stereotypes and generalizations about Native peoples, but can never comprehensibly articulate that point as Berger does so brilliantly in his novel. In this same year, LAmour Shalako (1962) unrelentingly forces its endorsements of explicit patriarchy (e.g. 26), using captivity as the ultimate threat against which it must defend feminized victims. The movie version (1968) echoes this argument by mirroring the novel, including a pointed scene in which Apache captors kill a woman captive by force-feeding her jewelry that she had offered them to release her. This scene emphasizes her captors cruelty, but also substitutes class consciousness for lust. Together LAmour and OMeara represent the contemporaries against which the revisionists work. In direct contrast to these works, Jane Barry positions A Time in the Sun (1962), with its complexly qualified endorsement of Apache (and by extension, other Native peoples) life ways. There she constantly represents the Native peoples as victims of literal and figurative persecution by Anglos. One scene particularly dramatizes this point: Joaquin, a marginalized warrior/translator and Annas lover, and Anna, the Anglo woman captured by the Apaches, argue over the legitimacy of an Anglo captives being

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275 burned to death by his captors. When Anna rebukes Joaquin for burning him alive, he replies Have you ever seen Apache scalps on Mexican and American saddles? Have you ever seen them geld and flay our wounded? Or what they do to our dead if we dont recover them? (105). Barrys indictments are relentless, and culminate in Joaquins murder by the Anglos as he tries to provide an alternative life for the pair. Such constant and consistent argumentations reveal Barrys firm commitment to revising prior conventional images of Native peoples and captivity, not simply her indebtedness to Arnolds Blood Brother as Sonnichsen claims (68-69). Her novel also disproves his claim that prior to Barry miscegenation could not occur, or as he puts it: To aspire was to expire (68). Her novel, as we have seen, is another in a long list of revisionist works form this century. Thomas Bergers Little Big Man 1964 and 1970 In Little Big Man (1964), Thomas Berger performs a similar revisionist operation. Captivity and its narrative reappear at crucial junctures throughout the novel. These reappearances amplify Berger's agenda for the book: a satirical Western which humanizes both Red and White peoples in order to debunk their stereotypical status and thereby ultimately to create a revision of the standard Western mythos. His pursuit of this agenda is relentless. Berger's first use of captivity narrative comes at the novel's beginning, when Jack and Caroline are not taken captive by Old Lodge Skins and his band of Cheyenne warriors. Caroline acts from conventional rhetoric, assuming that the Cheyenne lust after her white flesh. This misinterpretation informs her delusional fantasies that they will "Probly [sic] torture me in devilish ways" (17). Her conflict about gender and sexuality continues throughout the novel, but here serves to underscore the Cheyenne's essential

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276 benevolence toward these two young people who relentlessly follow them back to their camp--an inversion of the standard captivity narrative, here with the captives pursuing their captors. Once there, Caroline leaves in disgust when she realizes that she will not become the object of savage, sexual torture. Jack remains behind and is adopted. Thus at the outset of the novel, Berger has exploded two myths about captivity. First, these chapters counter the claim that one of the main objects of Indian violence and warfare is white captives. Instead, the violence directed toward the wagon train is the result of alcoholic excess. The Cheyenne return with compensation, not with vengeance, and certainly not to buy a white captive upon whom they will inflict savage tortures. Such a characterization reveals the Cheyenne as human beings, not demons. Such revisionary impulses define Bergers agenda in this novel, as revealed in his use of the terms captive and captivity. He first uses the terms of captivity when he recounts how the Cheyenne had sent a delegation to the Indian Agent to apologize for prior actions (see epigraph above). He inserts the mention of a returned captive along with the heavier emphasis on the political consequences of racist policies that deny individuality for the expedience of stereotyped groups (86-87). Berger again complicates the standard images of captivity when he has the U.S. cavalryman Muldoon "capture" Jack. During the fight with the cavalry, Jack finds himself in an impossible situation, and decides to "become" white again. In his efforts to convince the army colonel that he is white and should be accepted by the troops, Jack claims that the Cheyenne had "forced [him] on pain of death to join their war party, after having five years earlier killed [his] whole family and held [him] henceforward in brutal imprisonment" (97). This is of course a lie, but it reiterates the standard lines about

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277 Indian captivity--the very stereotype that Berger began so carefully to dismantle in his first three chapters. Here, he uses it to underscore Jack's duplicity as well as the monocular perspective of those waging war against Indian peoples--a double indictment meant to empower readers to oppose those conventions. Berger continues using captivity to complicate conventions. In one of his misadventures, Jack is taken captive by the Comanches. As Jack recounts his narrative: "They didn't treat me bad, and I reckon they intended to trade me off for guns or something, but having been put to herding their horses for them, one night I stole one and rode off" (145). In fact, Jack's entire captivity occupies approximately a half-page. This brevity combined with the ease with the relatively uneventful nature of his captivity by Comanches underscores Bergers agenda of debunking the captivity mythos. Captivity here occupies more of a footnote than the main body of a narrative--more of a non-event than a major event deserving its own narrative. In this way it de-emphasizes captivity among the Comanche (who maintain a reputation for torturing captives in standard representations) as a nonevent. Berger performs a similar function with Jacks captivity by Burns Red (157-60) He also invokes conventional rhetoric to deny its authority, as when the Cheyenne raid the stagecoach on which Jack, Olga, and their son Gus are riding, Berger again introduces captivity to both deflate its stereotypical form and function, as well as provide Jack with a plot motive for rejoining the Cheyenne. Berger emphasizes this agenda through his language: "The Cheyenne had carried off my family" (185). This summary reveals again Berger's use of understatement and truncation to de-emphasize conventional captivity. He next has Jack dismiss pursuit, since he cannot determine which raiding

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278 party to follow. He finally concludes that "If the Cheyenne hadn't killed them at the Arkansas, they weren't about to do so it after they had gone to the trouble of kidnapping" (187). Again, Berger's language here is crucial to understanding his intent: Jack enumerates reasons for not pursuing his family's captors, who he defines as kidnappers. This reasoning and language combine to deflate the stereotypical response of say an Ethan Edwards: Jack understands the situation and its impossibilities, and accepts them; he does not mount a holy war of vengeance against all Cheyenne. In other words, Jack is "the man who understands Indians" and who, therefore, does not plunge into maniacal, race hatred and warfare. By so constructing this scene and Jack's responses, Berger invites us to adopt a similarly pragmatic viewpoint. Later, he explicitly formulates this distinction: My wife and child had indeed been captured by the savages, and it was certainly possible they had been killed. But it never give me no excuse to throw over my manhood, and no matter how many misadventures you suffer, you ain't a genuine absolute failure until that occurs (193). Jack's qualification here amplifies Berger's contention about the pragmatics of captivity. During the engagement between the Cheyenne and the cavalry, Jack captures Shadow and her newborn son Frog. Initially his interest in doing so is to redeem his family with these two captives (210-11). Berger modifies their captivity through his language: I could of course present this woman and child as legitimate captives, only then they'd be let in for considerable abuse from the Pawnee and later be turned over to the Army at some fort, to be held for exchange with whites taken by the Cheyenne. Bergers language here underscores his revisionism. Berger has Jack become "realistic"

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279 about Olga and Gus's status among the Cheyenne--a realization that echoes his initial reactions to their captivity. Again, Berger underscores the pragmatics of the situation as well as the ways in which captivity depends upon context. Berger reserves his final redefinition of captivity for the scene when Jack discovers Olga and Gus among the Cheyenne. He has her married to Jack's nemesis Younger Bear, whom she dominates in a shrewish manner. Captivity has saved Jack from a horrible fate, he decides as he watches her (227-28). But prior to this revelation Berger carefully constructs her reappearance to invoke the sensationalized terms of white-woman-as-captive-slave, so that he can abruptly and dramatically deflate those very ideas, as he does below. These images converge to represent her as the abject victim of her captors' savagery, a view which Jack initially adopts, but then realizes "She wasn't a victim, that much was clear, but her whole personality has changed" (229). Here Berger explicitly reiterates what he has elaborated previously: Captivity has not reduced her to an insane slave, but has allowed her to dominate her captors. 1 In Arthur Penns movie version of Bergers novel (1970), two captivities occur with little critical notice. Most critics have almost exclusively focused on Crabbes taking Sunshine captive as part of his continuous reintroduction to Cheyenne life ways. However, these same critics either ignore or devalue two other examples of captivity that Penn uses. The first occurs when Jack (Dustin Hoffman) and Olga (Kelly Jean Peters) have fled their bankrupt business for a fresh start in the West. Critics have emphasized 1 Having performed such elaborate and extended rearticulations of captivity, Berger only reuses captivity twice more in the novel. He describes the fifty or so captives Custer took at the Washita Massacre and their condition during their march back to the fort and Jack's reactions to their plight (262, 267, 270). In addition to underscoring Custer's mistreatment of these people, Berger also emphasizes their mistreatment as captives--an inversion that casts the army as the savages. In other words, Berger has white captors take red captives to redefine the traditional terms of captivity and destabilize the ideology that employs them. His use, and its attendant result, is conscious acts in his larger agenda for redefining the traditional Western icons in Little Big Man

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280 how this scene underscores Penns indictment of Custer, since this scene introduces his lack of perspective when he personally assures Jack and Olga that the Indians will not harm them. However, Penn also underscores Custers ineptitude by having the very next scene be of the stagecoach on which Jack and Olga travel besieged by Cheyenne warriors. The next scene reveals Olga being carried away in a typical scene of captivity. Penn pointedly contrasts this scene later with his images of Olgas shrewishness toward Younger Bear (Cal Bellini), particularly her screaming at him and beating him with a duck. By doing so, Penn has undercut the conventional rhetoric of captivity (white women captives carried away screaming into sexual and physical depravity) with a revised image (captive as controlling her captor), as part of his and Bergers larger agendas of revisionism. This scene also comments upon Jacks initial claims of conventional rescue intentions, as he now avoids any possible connection to her, realizing that he is the one rescued. Penn also draws on Bergers complications of captivity with Sunshine, having Jack capture her to trade for my wife, but instead fall in love and marry her. Captivity here, as in the novel, provides Jack a means to rejoin The Human Beings, as well as poignantly demonstrates the greater humanity of the Cheyenne over the whites. The other use of captivity--when Younger Bear and his band capture Jack--also leads to Jacks return to The Human Beings. In these three ways, Penn draws on Bergers original impulse to offer revised images of captivity, but not to the same degree. T. V. Olsens The Stalking Moon 1965, 1969 Many people have come to know The Stalking Moon (1965) through the movie adaptation (1969), which starred Gregory Peck as the retired scout Sam Vetch. However, that view only represents a small portion of what Olsen intends through the novel. The

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281 novel presents multiple reinterpretations of captivity that qualify its final duel of competing masculinities between Sam and Salvaje. Before it completes its arguments with this maneuver, the novel consistently offers its "thread of understanding" (242)--several alternative perspectives on captivity, race and racism. In so doing, it intentionally complicates what could easily have become inversions. Olsen begins early in the novel to orchestrate this complexity. By shooting the woman attacking Sara Carver with a knife during the Armys raid on their camp, Sam rescues her from probable death. He, along with a sergeant, then fire and kill a spear-wielding Apache warrior. From these two incidents springs the basis for Sam and Saras relationship, as well as Salvajes motive for revenge and rescue. When next Sam sees Sara she has accommodated almost entirely to her new culture, retaining only her moccasin boots under her otherwise Anglicized attire. She defies Major Kinships suggestions that she abandon her two children to live on the reservation and thereby avoid the prejudice they would encounter within the Anglo community. Instead, she argues, they are hers and she will raise them, an opinion which Sam supports. Her decision and Sams support of it set in motion much of Olsens plot, but they also inform this novels primary emphasis on the struggles mixed-blood people face in Anglo communities. In describing Sara at this initial phase of her reaculturation, Olsens narrative passes certain negative judgments about Apache cultural values while endorsing the effects of captivity on Sara: she remains an attractive women despite her captivity among Apaches, with their inadequate diet and slush-mouthed Apache tongue (22-23). Rather

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282 reveal Olsens inconsistency, this scene prevents the novel form embracing simplistic counters to conventional arguments. From this qualified introduction, Olsen shifts his narratives focus to the issues of Indian Rights as a way of indicting those groups who championed assimilationist positions. He dramatizes a debate between Sara and the fort commander, Kinship, who does not approve of the Quaker peace policy (25-26). In the process, readers learn that Sara was captured while going to help educate and convert Native peoples. Having introduced these aspects of revisionism, Olsen then turns to a more metaphoric revisionone which requires audiences to empathize with Salvaje. The movie version doe snot even attempt this move, instead placing the focus on Slavajes desire for their sonthereby erasing Saras role as anything other than breeding stock. However, Olsens novel represents Sara and their children as captives taken by whites whom Salvaje must rescue. In this respect, the novel more actively promotes Olsens revisionist agenda than does the movie version. Benjamin Cappss A Woman of the People 1966 Back in 1956, while Dorothy Johnson is producing her short story Lost Sister as part of her larger revisionary work, Peattie writes The Ballad of Cynthia Ann a telling indictment of Western mythologizing of captivity and particularly Parkers captivity--a surprise given his nationalism elsewhere, as in "Tracks West (1949). While Peattie may have reversed his earlier positions, Johnson did not. Ten years later, Capps produces A Woman of the People (1966), an explicitly revisionist work about Parker and captivity, which heralds his entry into the issues of Parkers (and by extension others) captivity. 2 2 James Lee argues that One of the clearest signs of Benjamin Cappss seriousness as a novelist can be seen in his willingness to take chances. After writing successful novels about the life of white

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283 Sadly, though Capps original entry in revising captivity falters toward the end of his career. Capps continues to author revisionist works through his career. For example, his The White Mans Road (1969) chronicles the decline of Comanche traditional value systems under the reservation system and argues that the White Mans Road is not the road for the Comanche (and implicitly for other tribes). It also wins Capps his third Spur Award in 1969. Despite these endorsements of Native identity, he also produces qualifications of such positions. Ernest B. Speck argues that gaps and inconsistencies that dominate Capps historical work for the Time-Life series on the Old West: The Indians (1973) and The Great Chiefs (1975) 3 (42). A few examples from these two works support Specks claims as well as illustrate how these works diametrically oppose Capps arguments about captivity and Native peoples in A Woman of the People and Woman Chief A prominent example occurs in The Indians when it offers a one-page summary of Cynthia Ann Parkers captivity, including the familiar portrait of her and her daughter at breast. Disturbingly, the narrative offers the standard argument about Native male lust for Anglo females: As Cynthia Ann toiled at the work of a Comanche woman, her complexion darkened from the sun and dirt, and her flaxen hair, clipped short, became greasy. Yet as a white she remained an alluring prize--which Peta Nocona, by implication, must have (Indians 189). Such stereotypical rhetoric again surfaces with reference to captivity practices among Native peoples a few pages later, when The Indians concludes its cattlemen on the plains, he was brave enough to undertake a novel about life among the Indians as seen from the point of view of a woman. Unlike the writers of formula westerns, Capps was willing to forego the sort of novel that celebrates masculine bravery and attempt to see life in the nineteenth-century American West from a new angle (243). 3 Speck 42. In all fairness to Capps, we should also remember that Speck argues that A Woman of the People represents another of Capps departures from fact into novelistic creation (26).

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284 general summary of The fierce ritual of the warpath with the following sentence: That night the entire village would dance jubilantly, while the warriors related their heroic deeds, telling of rival tribesmen cut down and sometimes even showing off women and children whom they had captured ( The Indians 203). Such gross exaggerations do not coincide with the author who carefully represents captivity in two of his major works as more than a simplistic act of violence against feminine victims. Sadly, this is a trend we have seen before in authors like Burroughs and Brand, and perhaps occurs for similar reasons. However, A Woman of the People remains a strong voice arguing for revision. Capps primary vehicle here is the perspectival changes Helen/Tehanita undergoes while a captive. Initially, she resists any accommodation to her captors culture, battling with her sister who more easily accepts Comanche ways (in part because of her age but also because of her personality). In this way Capps uses the binary argument distinguishing the two essential reactions to captivity by captives. Having dramatized the issue this way, he slowly erodes this distinction by having Helen/Tehanita slowly accept her captor family (and by extension the other tribal members) as human beings, eventually joining their life ways so that by novels end she is the champion of Comanche identity as resistant to assimilation. This ringing endorsement of Native identity and life ways echoes on each page. Capps adds to this a thoroughly convincing argument about revising conventional captivity representations. Such conclusions are not surprising, given evidence like that of James W. Lees 1984 correspondence with Capps. There Capps argues for the essential humanity of all peoples: all peoples are three-fourths the same and one-fourth a unique

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285 culture and racial spirit (244). Lee further reveals that Capps had not researched Parkers life prior to writing the novel; instead, he writes the novel based on the oral traditions of Parkers captivity that he knows and a desire to tell the story of a captives coming of age in Comanche society (245). Such insights also recall Johnsons comments upon crafting the Parker story into Lost Sister as well as Johnsons larger endorsement of Comanche people. T. V. Olsens Arrow in the Sun 1969 and Soldier Blue 1970 Many people know that Olsen's Arrow in the Sun (1969) is the basis for the celebrated anti-war/anti-Western Soldier Blue (1970). Perhaps fewer people realize the marked differences between the movie and its original novel. In essence, the novel creates a unique situation regarding captivity by making Cresta Lee so resolute and pragmatic. Olsen repeatedly portrays her as "the go-to-hell-girl of all time" (186). Her strong-willed determination and uncensored speech constantly jar against convention and the novel's male characters. But, in the tradition of many Westerns, this story finally resolves itself through the romantic taming of such a wild spirit, in its ultimate validation of domestication (despite Tompkin's claims otherwise). Through this strong female character, Olsen creates a complicated redefinition of captivity that directly challenges the negative constructions of captivity for female captives. He starts by casting Cresta as the product of Eastern urban slums and an abusive childhood, from which she emerges with a "philosophy governed by practicality, not sentiment" (98). She is the indomitable character who confronts the troopers unwanted sexual advances and prejudices and who proves more than a match for whatever comes their way. Moreover, Olsen has Crest prove her ability to overcome any obstacle through her captivity: she rescues herself after having plotted and planned her

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286 escape for over two years by patiently learning the land, the Cheyenne language, and survival techniques, until that day when she puts he plan into action, outwits her tribe's best trackers, and single handedly returns to the white culture from which she had been captured. Such a set of circumstances echoes similar tales of self-rescue by female captive among Native peoples, and indicates the depth of Crestas determination and possibility. By casting Cresta in such terms, Olsen problematizes captivity as a necessarily negative or debilitating experience--an argument to which he will return explicitly at the novels end. He reinforces this claim by having Cresta recaptured. She calmly faces Spotted Wolf, her Cheyenne captor and former husband. There, Olsen creates a scene in which he explodes one of the primary myths driving stereotyped images of captivity. He declares that she is "in no danger . more a reluctant guest than a prisoner (158). He makes this sense of revised expectations explicit during Cresta's interview with Spotted Wolf: She asks him if he will burn her at the stake for running away, to which he replies that she has hurt his heart and their relationship, but he will willingly reaccept her (160). This tender and pragmatic exchange deflates any stereotypes regarding red captors as merciless savages whose lust overpowers any other intent toward their white female captives. Here are two people who have accepted the pragmatics of their relationship. Olsen forestalls any further reunion by removing Spotted Wolf to a battle, and placing Crest in danger of murder from her jealous mother-in-law. He then reintroduces Homer to rescue her and together they save the day. But after the battle's dust has cleared, Olsen has Cresta choose Gant over her fianc. In doing so, Olsen uses this as an opportunity to reiterate his revisionist perspective on captivity. There, he has the

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287 narrative articulate Cresta's assessment of her captivity, which also serves as this novel's relation to captivity: What about the Cheyenne captivity she had schemed so tirelessly to escape? Really, aside from her being a prisoner--and other things--the interlude had been far from unpleasant. In fact, she had taken to the life like a duck did to water. She had tanned like an Indian; she had thrived on the Cheyenne's Spartan life and rough fare. A girlhood spent in cramped and swarming cities had never permitted her more than a brushing acquaintance with sunlight and nature--things to which she now woke each day with a child's eager anticipation. (186). Such a conclusion explicitly voices what critics like Castiglia argue about captivity as providing female audiences a venue for realizing their fullest potential. Moreover, this ending echoes those found in most historical romance novels. In all these venues, captivity provides the protagonists with a romantic closure. When the novel becomes a movie in 1970 as Soldier Blue it maintains much of the novels original impulses toward revisionism, but, as numerous critics have argued, becomes a vehicle for dramatizing events in the Vietnam War. In doing so, it uses Crestas captivity to indict U.S. policies and less to profile a female captives capabilities. However, this movie is not alone in indicting such policies in the Sixties. Finally, Ed Friends The Scalphunters (1968) combines comedy and captivity to complicate issues of identity and captivity. Joseph Lee, the slave captured by the Comanches, often serves as the catalyst for this dialogue, as when he confronts Joe Bass about his identity: Indians captured me from other Indians. So Im an Indian (20). Lee uses his liminality to negotiate his possible fate of being returned to slavery among whites. In doing so, he also emphasizes the liminality generated by captivity. Similarly, when Kate and her companions fall captive to the same Kaws who have been pursuing Lee and Bass, Friend confronts the consumption of women by having Kate redefine their captivity as a manageable situation: Dont cry. Theyre nothing but men. Red men, but

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288 men (126). The movie version (1968) of this novel maintains these points, for examples by having Kate (Shelly Winters) conclude the movie with her assertion that their captor is going to get the damnedest white squaw in the whole Kiowa nation. By having Winters voice this scene, she directly confronts the general categories of negative captivity images that exist prior to this point. 4 Most directly, she confronts her own legacy of conventional captivity images, as those in movies like Winchester (1950) and Saskatchewan (1954). Movies Many movies from this period seek to revise the conventional representations of captivity and Native identity. For example, Geronimo (1962), starring Chuck Connors, resoundingly endorses Native peoples and indicts racism. This is Connors first movie since a four year hiatus doing the very popular Rifleman television series. It is also an unrelenting argument for the dignity of Native peoples and the prejudices they must counter to maintain their identity. It dramatizes these forces throughout the movie, thereby making a continuous argument for the humanity of Native peoples. It does not, however, use captivity to advance its argument, instead relying on an emphasis of injustices committed by governmental forces. The next year, United Artists releases Kings of the Sun (1963), in which red-on-red captivity defines the movies essential plot points. For example, Balam (George Chakiris) literally and figuratively flees Mesoamerican traditional captivity practices to North America, where he intends to found a new dynasty which will abstain from such practices. However, he takes Chief Black Eagle (Yul Brenner) captive through a series of 4 Philip French argues a similar point

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289 misunderstandings. Through Black Eagles experiences as his captive, Balam realizes that traditional captivity practices are barbaric and ends them. Tolerance of difference defines much of this movies plot, and is explicit by the movies final climactic scene. Given Brenners stature at this time (he had just finished The Magnificent Seven in 1960 for example), we can assume that audiences would have been more receptive to this movies revisionist message than if someone of lesser stature had played Black Eagle. Moreover, Elliot Arnolds role in the screenplay of this movie indicates its overarching drive toward revision. Similarly, in Cheyenne Autumn (1964), John Ford offers arguments about the construction of rhetorical conventions and the need to abandon them. For example, he pointedly reiterates Deborah Wrights (Carroll Bakers) intentional choice to accompany the Cheyenne. In other words, she is not a captive metaphorically or literally. He also hints at Spanish Womans (Delores Del Rio) identity as a captive who has been assimilated into the tribe. Otherwise, captivity does not enter this movie, but what Ford does constantly and consistently introduce is the humanity and dignity of the Cheyenne people. Duel at Diablo 1966 Duel at Diablo (1966) constantly plays off revisionist images of captivity and Native identity with conventional ones. Metaphorically, the movie is framed by violence (manifest in the slashing knife). It also brackets itself with two examples of Apaches torturing captives. However, by the movies end, audiences recognize that this captivity is much more complex than the first instance: here, the range of motives causing Grange (Dennis Weaver) to sacrifice himself and Jesss (James Garners) motives in loaning him his pistol transform this scene of conventional captivity into something startlingly

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290 revisionaryan analogy for the movies intention. The movies main focus on captivity and identity has transformed the violent brackets of the slashing knife from expressions of Apache savagery to statements about the never ending struggle over race. As with other movies and even novels (like Keltons Texas Rifles 1960), this movie dramatizes scenes of racism and revision, as when Grange confronts Ellen (Bibi Anderson) about her captivity and later her child (referring to the baby as it and that. In contrast, Toller (Sidney Poitier) and McCallister (Bill Travers) readily accept her maternity when she rejoins the group, and Jess has always accepted her position. In these ways, the movie unequivocally declares its revisionist identity. Hallelujah Trail 1965. Parodic Westerns frequently use captivity as part of their rearticulations of traditional forms. In doing so, they both ridicule previous and contemporary uses of captivity which argue for the savagery of Native peoples and the rhetorical use of captivity itself. In other words, once the parodic retelling of traditional Western elements begins, all of its traditional elements become subject to revision, as illustrated in the movie The Hallelujah Trail (1965), based on Gulluicks 1963 novel. This movie uses captivity to emphasize both the Cavalry's ineptitude as a peace-keeping force and the prejudicial policies defining them. Captivity, results as a calculated attempt to regain the lost goods and lands promised by U.S. treaties, not as a consequence of Native excess. The circumstances leading to these events inform this revisionism. The cavalry interpreter mistranslates the demands made by Chief Five Barrels (Robert J. Wilke) and Walks-Stooped Over (Martin Landau), saying that they Sioux will give the Cavalry presents when in fact they had demanded twenty wagons of whiskey in exchange for their return to the reservation. Consequently, when they do not receive their

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291 presents, they mount an offensive. First, they trick the temperance marchers led by Cora Templeton Massingale (Lee Remick) into believing that they are pledging against alcohol and, in the process, capture both the marchers and the Cavalry detail guarding the proceedings. Walks-Stooped Over escorts the captive Cpt. Slater (Jim Hutton) back to his commanding officer Col. Gerhart (Burt Lancaster) with his party's demands for the whiskey and the women temperance marchers. Col. Gerhart refuses the women, but agrees to the whiskey as ransom form the women. When Sgt. Buell (John Anderson) announces that "The Indians have captured the women!" this movie actively begins its revision of captivity and its attendant expectations. The Colonel reacts with conventional rhetoric--that he will attack and rescue the women. However, the captors initiate a dialogue first, since took the women captive in order to barter them for wagons of whiskey. This dialogue sensationalizes the events, demonizing the Native peoples involved, and constructs a rhetoric that justifies violence against those people based on that rhetoric. Its reference to the "confused" interpreter alludes to the original cause of the "problem"--miscommunication between the Cavalry and the Sioux both at the immediate level of exchange but also at the deeper level of cultural identity. The Cavalry's overemphasis on the economic value of each captive relative to the whiskey underscores Anglo consumptive drives. This economic aspect also emphasizes the distance that these Anglo rescuers occupy relative to conventional captivity roles: they are more worried about the whiskey than the white women. This scene then illustrates how parodic Westerns in general use captivity to both illicit and indict previously entrenched conventional expectations about captivity. It

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292 reifies these conventions toward the end when Chief Five Barrels, surrounded by a circle of Cavalry, tries to surrender. He grabs Coras petticoat and improvises a flag of surrender. When the Colonel sees that they "have" his daughter, he assumes that the warriors have rape on their minds and calls a charge. Misperception, based on conventional categories, leads to violence, but that violence becomes comedy, thereby underscoring the inadequacy of such conventions to address captivity situations. Such movies indict Cavalry actions and U.S. policy toward Native peoples well before movies like Little Big Man and Soldier Blue made such indictments inescapably explicit. Here too such movies join the list of previous movies like Broken Arrow (1950) which also argues against the prejudicial and genocidal actions of U.S. Indian policy. Such movies actively use captivity (with is attendant expectations) to effect revisionist positions regarding "traditional" Western images of Cavalry and Native peoples well before 1970. Television Current Context During this decade comedic Westerns enjoy immense popularity, from television's F-Troop (1966-68) to the big-screen's Hallelujah Trail (1965) to the daily strip Tumbleweeds (1965-present). Most of these Westerns, by invoking and debunking standard Western myths, seek to humanize stereotypes and their supporting ideologies with the intent of revising the patriarchal and nationalistic agendas that had created and perpetuated those myths. This intent echoes earlier attempts by movies like Ride 'Em Cowboy (1942) and cartoons like Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938). Because of increased syndication and strategies to transfer big-screen movies to small, home screens, television increasingly replays prior movies, animation, and television series. The effect

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293 of such reiteration is the constant presence of revisionist arguments on most U.S. televisions. New productions add to this body of works, thereby increasing the presence of such arguments well before the decades end, as seen in Gunsmoke However, this revisionist impulse is not confined solely to explicitly defined Western media of this period. For example weekly sitcoms such as Get Smarts Washington Three, Redskins Four (1967) first invoke then revise the Western genre through contemporary captivity. Regardless of the origin of its programming, television from this period actively promotes revisionist agendas, often featuring works that use captivity as their vehicle. However, not all television Westerns at this time promote racial and cultural tolerance. For example, Walt Disney Studios busily promotes stereotypes at the beginning of the decade, as in its short Daniel Boone (1960). Made for its television series Walt Disney Presents, this episode of Boones life reinforces prejudicial images of captivity and racial identity with its standardized promotion of its white protagonist (Dewey Martin) over his generic-Indian captors. In fact, it pointedly has the Shawnee capture Boone and his brother while Boone is ministering to an abandoned senior Shawnee who is dying. Boone's act of reckless humanity for "the Ancient One" earns him respect from the Shawnee Chief Black Fish (Anthony Caruso); it also emphasizes the difference between white humanitarianism and the Shawnee's ruthless cultures, thereby indicting Native captivity and captors as savage and necessarily cruel as manifest in Crow feathers (Dean Fredericks) actions and speech. This staging echoes the 1936 version of Daniel Boone, Indian Scout down to the trick knife-swallowing feat and the attendant devaluation of Native peoples such scenes promote. Further, David Victor, who writes the screenplay, bases this episode on John Bakeless 1939 biography of

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294 Boone. That same year Disney produces Geronimos Revenge (1960), also with Dewey Martin, in which the besieged defenders (including children) of a cabin save the last bullets for themselves to prevent a vengeful Geronimo from capturing them. Martin arrives in the nick of time, forestalling their fate. Other television Westerns at this time represent captivity as a category equally inflicted by white renegades and Native captors. For example, Cheyenne's "Duel at Judith Basin," (1960) presents a white gunrunner (Jacques Aubachon) who hands over a white captive (Will Hutchins) to Crazy Horse as a potential source of torturous entertainment. This episode clearly argues that the white captor's action is more heinous than if the captive had been taken by red captors: his action both encourages red violence and also defines the whites as unwilling to save a fellow white. Such a redefinition occurs in later works like Olsen's Arrow in the Sun (1969) and recalls Grey's Ohio novels sharing the same intent: to redefine captivity as a practice of white renegades as well as red captors, and when practiced by whites far more abusive than when practiced by reds. In contrast to this negative imagery, Maverick provides lighter variations on the John Smith theme in Thunder From the North (1960) by having Beau (Roger Moore) captured as part of a cultural practice to ensure future leadership alaHow Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (1971). However, an equal number of shows also promote positive images of Native peoples and captivity at this time. Some like The Lucy Show and The Beverly Hillbillies (The Indians Are Coming, 1962) choose more eccentric means (Lucy The Babysitter and Lucy the Rain Goddess, 1966) while others like The High Chaparral choose more complex ones, as we shall see below. Other series use captivity as part of their

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295 recontextualization of Native peoples as humans not savages, as does The Time Tunnel does in Massacre (1966) when Tony (James Darren) and Doug (Robert Colbert) are captured prior to Custers Battle at the Little Bighorn. Similarly, The Wild Wild West episodes like "The Night of the Arrow" (1967) indict racism against native peoples and the consequential massacres it produces. Notably, this episode emphasizes the construction and constructedness of racism and its reductive rhetoric which casts Native peoples as savages. Other episodes like "The Night of the Green Terror have Jim (Robert Conrad) and Arty (Ross Martin) captured by Indians, but as part of a larger scheme orchestrated by Miguelito Loveless (Michael Dunn) replete with typical Wild Wild West touches like West bound by his Indian captors and threatened by a crossbow which will fire when the wet leather thong tied to its trigger dries. Similar sorts of rearticulations occur in other episodes from this series, like The Night of the Raven" (1966) and "The Night of the Double Edged Knife (1965). Other series from this decade also offer consistently positive images of Native peoples and use captivity to argue for revisionism. For example, Bonanza (1959-1973) presents several episodes, like The Honor of Cochise (1961, see Chapter Four above) and Love Me Not (1964). 5 The Big Valley (1965-1969) also enters this dialogue with 5 Specific episodes include: Death on Sun Mountain(1959), The Paiute War 1959, The Last Hunt (1959), Day of Reckoning (1960), The Savage (1960), The Gift (1961), The Honor of Cochise (1961), Day of Dragon (1961), The Deserter (1962), The Beginning (1962), The Toy Soldier (1963), Journey Remembered (1963), Love Me Not (1964), The Saga of Squaw Charlie (1964), Found Child (1965), To Kill A Buffalo (1966), Ride the Wind (1966), The Last Mission (1966), Second Chance (1967), Sense Of Duty (1967), Desperate Passage (1967), The Burning Sky (1967), In Defense Of Honor (1968), The Survivors), The Sound of Drums(1968), My Friend, My Enemy (1969), Erin (1969), The Deserter (1969), Warbonnet (1971), The Desperado (1971), Shadow of a Hero (1971), and Terror at 2:00 (1971.

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296 less enthusiasm, only featuring a few episodes in which captivity and Native identity appear. 6 The High Chaparral 1967-1971 The High Chaparral often raises issues of race and relativity in its weekly episodes. The initial show explicitly encourages the possibilities of mutuality and cooperation between two apparently irreconcilable parties. It unrelentingly exposes the racism and nationalism driving much of the Western mythos, and openly opposes it for the sake of individualism and diversity. Subsequent shows revisit these issues, as with Bucks reluctant adoption of orphaned Apache children (Ten Little Indians, 1968). Other episodes, like Ride the Savage Land (1968), explore issues of racial identity through captivity. In fact this series is constantly foregrounding issues of identity through revisionist captivities, as the following list of episodes in this category alone attests: Ghost of Chaparral (1967), Best Man for the Job (1967), Survival (1968), Ride the Savage Land (1968), Bad Day for a Thirst (1968), The Hair Hunter (1968), Shadow of the Wind (1969), Time to Laugh, Time to Cry (1969), The Lost Ones (1969), The Forge of Hate (1970), and Pale Warrior (1970). Several other shows deal with identity, but not through captivity, making this series one of the premiere formats for revisionist philosophies. Shows that deal directly with and through captivity are exceptionally elaborate in their structures. For example, A Man to Watch the Land (1971) uses White Horses (Albert Salmis) captivity and acculturation to confront the racists, who then resign their reductive. Sangre (1970) argues similar lines, but complicates the issues by having 6 These titles include; Earthquake! (1965), Ambush (1967), Journey Into Violence (1967), Lightfoot (1969), and Danger Road (1969).

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297 captivity potentially exacerbate the Cannon position on universal tolerance. As with all these episodes, eventually all parties realize the greater benefits of mutuality and diversity and forge a new alliance. And, as these episodes demonstrate, the reformulations of identity and captivity are never simplistic. One of the most radically revisionist episodes deals directly with captivity, particularly its contextualization by reductive rhetorics and issues of racial identity. It also illustrates the levels of sophistication such episodes uses to advance revisionist ideas. Feather of an Eagle (1969) opens with Buck (Cameron Mitchell), Manolito (Henry Darrow), and Blue (Mark Slade) observing a group of Apaches moving camp. Blue notices a white woman among the group and grows anxious to rescue her, insisting repeatedly that her whiteness warrants her immediate rescue. Buck cautions him against his impetuous act, explaining that he can tell by the way she walks that she has been captive since early childhood: This girl is as much Apache, as much Injun, as if she was born that way. . That girl aint white. Shes Injun, shes Apache. I think she would take it very unkind if we was to try and change her. Bucks pragmatic summary of her identity explicitly articulates the issues of acculturation by foregrounding the relativity of race. Blue misperceives the situation through reductive terms: white girl among Apaches warrants rescue. Buck and Manalito view the situation with more relativistic perspectives, looking past the color of her skin. Blue, however, pursues his reductive solution and in the process is captured. Sara (Quenton Dean) rides to freedom on Blues horse reporting his death. Buck vows vengeance until he learns from Blues captors that he is still alive. Meanwhile, Sara has represented her captivity in consistently negative terms. Moreover, she appears as the

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298 psychologically ravaged victim of a wife-beater and a savage culture, when she reveals her scarred back and her bag of possessions (containing a shoe and a comb) from before her capture. Her refusal to return and her general aggression toward the Cannon ranch define her as unappreciative. Her whiteness complicates her return, as each of the Cannon family agonizes over her return--the condition for Blues release. When Santos (Frank Rameriez) approaches the Cannon ranch to retrieve Sara, he openly admits his love for her. This admission transforms her period with the Apache from captivity to true love. Sara, then willingly returns to Santos, now her husband and no longer her captor. As this summary indicates, this episode does not avoid issues of racial identity. Moreover, this episode directly confronts standard reductive rhetoric by debating issues associated with white female captives (their rejection of their captors culture, their desire for rescue, their sanctity as objects warranting any measure to rescue and retain from their captors). As a weekly show, The High Chaparrals rearticulation of captivity here indicates the levels to which it was willing to go and the possibilities of such series to redefine captivity in a continuous format and on a regular basis. Such frequency indicates a ready acceptance of revisionist perspectives by its audiences. Additional evidence of this support comes from the shows consistent appearance among the Neilson Ratings Top Twenty shows. Finally, this series, like so many others, was offering sophisticated rearticulations of captivity and Native identity well before 1970, further validating audience acceptance of such positions. Hondo (1967) is another television series that explores the issues of captivity and racism on a frequent basis. Obviously, the series is predicated upon captivity, being derived from earlier formulations by LAmour and Wayne (who continues to promote its

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299 positions by helping to produce the series). However, because of its weekly airing, captivity assumes a minor role relative to the larger issues of colonialism and native rights issues, which it weekly dramatizes as in Hondo and the Singing Wire (1967). The series first episode Hondo and the Eagle Claw (1967) repeats much of the movies version of Hondos life, but has Hondo (Ralph Taeger) rescue Mrs. Lowe (Kathie Browne) and Johnny(Buddy Foster) from a group of warriors. Given the series short life, it did not venture far beyond its original reformulations of captivity and Native identity. However, F Troop (1965-67) constantly redefines conventional formulations. During its run, it provides the same sort of relentless problematization of the standard Western mythos that, say, the comic strip Tumbleweeds does. It declares that intention in the opening theme song, then delivers it with its weekly stories. Numerous stories deal with the humanization of Native peoples and the revision of standard representations of captivity: e.g. The Return of Bald Eagle (1965), Me Heap Big Injun (1965), and The Day the Indians Won (1966). Certain episodes featured these issues as the determining points of their plots. For example, Yellow Bird (1966) has Yellow Bird (Laurie Newmar), an Army officers daughter raised by Native peoples, pursue Parmenter (Ken Barry) thereby engaging captivity at several levels. Here Comes the Tribe (1966) has the Troop rescue Silver Moon (Laurie Sibbald), a Native woman taken captive by War Cloud (Blaisedell Makee). With its constant problematization of these categories, F-Troop consistently promotes revisionist perspectives for its audiences. As a Dell comic book running concurrently with the show, F-Troop ensures a larger exposure to such revisionary arguments in the middle of this decade.

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300 Childrens Literature Current Context As we have seen in the prior decades, childrens literature keeps pace with adult literature when it deals with captivity. Some erase those issues; others, like Elizabeth Payne's historical children's book Meet the Pilgrim Fathers (1966), elide them for nationalistic agendas. It specifically says that Squanto had been "captured," but otherwise maintains a rhetoric emphasizing the two groups mutuality at this dawn of nation building (helpful Squantos and nice Pilgrim Fathers enjoying mutuality at the Thanksgiving Table). However, many works explore the issues of captivity in a frank manner, arguing for their audiences abilities to understand the complexities of captivity and the need for revision of conventional images. Elsewhere, John Peterson incorporates captivity into his The Littles series, when he has Aunt Lily captured by the Snippetts in The Littles to the Rescue (1968). The resultant misadventures underscore the ways in which reductive rhetoric can precipitate racism and violence. Famous for his novel Rascal Sterling North crafts a generally negative image of captivity in his Captured by the Mohawks, and Other Adventures of Radisson (1960). For example, he distinguishes Iroquois captivity as the absolute nadir of human expression: However, seldom in the history of the savage human race have such diabolical scenes been enacted as those which might be witnessed year after year in the Iroquois villages. Those prisoners who survived were usually mutilated for life (49). He further amplifies the differences between Iroquois and others by having Radisson differ markedly from his Iroquois captors, as when he gives to his mother an Erie woman he had captured rather than killing her (65).

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301 Robert Cruses Friends of the Wolf 1961 In contrast, Robert Cruses Friends of the Wolf (1961) offers a revisionist history of Colonial New England that complicates such conventional formulations. There he creates a fact-based novel portraying how a New England tribal confederacy launched a maritime war against increasing colonization. His intent, as he explains in his Afterword, is to reveal this relatively invisible chapter of Maines history. He also creates Native American characters who are not passive victims of colonial aggression; instead, Cruse has his characters acquire and redirect large sailing ships used by colonial whites in an orchestrated war against those colonial interests. Given the extent and intent of such an agenda Cruse also addresses certain aspects of red/white relations which are also potentially revisionist. For example, he dramatizes through the actions of numerous white characters how racial hatred promotes more hatred. He also offers a revisionist perspective on captivity and its narrative. He first introduces captivity when his main characters Massatuck and Topu, two Penobscot youths, find an abandoned sloop. As they investigate its mysterious appearance they wonder if the ships apparent lack of a crew is really a trap set for them, so that they will be captured and sold as slaves: Indians who had trusted English crews too much had been captured, killed or sold as slaves in some far-off islands called the Antilles (28). This explanatory reference reintroduces the notion that whites can and do capture red people and then sell these people as slaves, thereby complicating the issues of captivity as a red act of violence perpetrated on white victims as well as the issues separating captivity and slave narratives based on racial distinctions.

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302 Betty Bakers Walk the Worlds Rim 1965 In a similar vein, Betty Bakers Walk the Worlds Rim (1965) offers extensive commentary on the differences between slavery and captivity as manifest in the relationship between Esteban, the black slave who had accompanied Cabeza de Vaca, and Chakoh, a Native boy who accompanies and idolizes Esteban. Through this relationship and their adventures, Baker reveals the complexities of colonial identity for slaves and captives, and the comparable relativity of these states for other people, as when the Cibolans capture Esteban at the novels end. Since this was originally published as juvenile literature, it offers the same sorts of revisionist arguments that other childrens literature authors have made through their use of captivity. But Baker further modifies this dialogue by focusing on Estebans racial identity, thereby further complicating the issues of captivity and slavery as authors like Dunning had done earlier. Comics Current Context Throughout the Sixties, comics continue the revisionist trends so explicitly manifest in the Fifties. Comic books continue to advance revisionist agendas, perhaps less so than in the Fifties, but with no less conviction. Some, like the Rawhide Kid story Trapped in the Valley of Doom (1966), offer modified uses of captivity that parallel those uses by contemporary TV shows like The Wild, Wild West In this story, the Rawhide Kid must rescue Anne, her archaeologist father, and himself from the last surviving Aztecs, led by an evil shaman and a greedy white guide. The Aztecs had captured Anne, her father, and their duplicitous guide, but Anne managed to escape. She leads Rawhide back to rescue her father, and, of course, he captures the bad guy along with earning the respect of the Aztecs. However, another Rawhide Kid story, Massacre

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303 at Medicine Bend (1967), has the Lakota capture Rawhide so that he can explain to Custer that not all Indians are at war. Here, captivity serves as a possible solution to hostilities, and actually informs the Lakota desire for peace. Other comic books at this time also problematize conventional captivity categories. For example, Turok, Son of Stone (#22, 1962) has the pair of Native adventurers captured by cavemen, who intend to inflict upon them the same sorts of tortures represented in standard captivity narratives. Here, the cavemen are notably Anglo-like, while Turok and Andar are obviously Native. This formulation alone reverses the terms and categories of standard captivity imagery. Coupled with the other features in this series (educational lessons on traditional Native cultures and paleontological topics), this reformulation of captivity amplifies this comic books revisionist agendas. Moreover, this series continues the same sorts of revisionist issues championed in Dells earlier series from the late Tom K. Ryans Tumbleweeds 1965-present However, one of the most consistent and relentless revisionist comics occurs in the dailies. Tom K. Ryan's daily and Sunday syndicated (now available on the web) comic strip, Tumbleweeds which ran from 1965 to the present. 7 His strips unrelentingly indict Western iconography and its stereotypes. It tackles the entire range of icons with equal insight and intensity in order to revise negative stereotypes and encourage questioning their categorizations, the same goal as other comedic rearticulations. Its explorations of Indian imagery continue this same satirical and critical drive. In his strip, Ryan features 7 Gordon Bess creates Redeye a similarly oriented strip, also for King Features Syndicate, in 1967. Except for Horn's brief appraisal, I have not had access to it, and so cannot judge its position on captivity, but I would assume that the two positions would be consistent based on the few examples I have seen (cf. Horn 63-64).

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304 the Poohawks, a tribe of unmanageable character types whose comic misadventures constantly comment upon such negative stereotypes. For example, the warriors complain about weekly dances and the messiness of war paint. 8 Ryan, in his exploration, includes captivity with the same results. In one strip, he has Hildegard Hamhocker rescue Tumbleweeds from his captors by joining them in their torture dance. When he realizes what she intends, he refuses her rescue efforts, and instead declares that he would "rather be rescued by the cavalry!" At this point, she informs him that she has already paid his $7.29 ransom, which further insults him. However, in the last panel, Hildegard carries him away (118). Ryan's commentary on conventional sex roles in captive rescues, the commodification of captives, and the principles of captivity itself all crowd in to this strip's six panels. In doing so, this strip intensely rearticulates conventional aspects in addition to simply playing up the love angle between Hildegaard and Tumbleweeds. But this intensity also characterizes Ryan's other strips dealing with captivity. For example, in another strip one brave introduces the tribe's "captive of the week"--a white gunflinger. Ryan then sends up gunslingers through this gunflinger, whose insanity is too excessive for Chief, the Poohawks' leader, who in turn releases the captive with a final comment upon the insanity of the whole send-up (Ryan 138). In Hang in There, Tumbleweeds (1976), Ryan has Chief complain about the nightmare he had last night in which he captured single-handedly two captives who "turned out to be Yul (Brenner) and Telly (Savalas). In the next five strips, after checking in at the "captives' registration desk," Hildegard volunteers to be the Poohawk's captive so that Tumbleweeds can rescue her, 8 For another source, see a reproduced Sunday strip on p. 101 in Wild West Show Thomas W. Knowles and Joe B Lansdale, Eds. There, Ryan has his Custer-spoof character captured in a surprise attack and tied to a stake to be burned in traditional images, which are undercut by the panels dialogue.

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305 but finally leaves in disgust because thy won't accept her as a captive, commenting "How uncivilized can you guys get!?" Given the daily exposure that such revisionary rhetoric would have received from Ryan's strips' national syndication, and that this distribution spanned several years, we can easily conclude that Tumbleweeds encourages a constant inquiry into the production of Western identity so easily and widely distributed elsewhere. Moreover, the fact that his strips appear today in collections, websites, and libraries indicates the continued effects of his original rearticulations of captivity and other Western convention.

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CHAPTER 8 THE SEVENTIES Ulzana's Raid (1972), directed by Robert Aldrich, was conceived as a direct refutation of the revisionist view of Indians in Little Big Man/Soldier Blue and of the anti-war subtext of those films. Aldrich emphasizes in graphic manner the sadism and cruelty of the raiding Apaches and devotes crucial passages of dialogue to considering the question of why certain peoples seem so passionately devoted to cruelty. But these films are exceptions, reactions against a revisionism that had become the new norm in the genre. --Richard Slotkin, Gunfighter Nation But once these grieving Psa women dried their tears and started talking in their captors tongue, they had much to gain. Always these tribes make wives and daughters of such captives, the Psa women receiving the same respect they accord any woman who lives in Lakotah or Sahiela villages. For never will man disregard the meaning he gives to woman: one-who-sits-most-high; wife, one-who-sits-above. Wankani yanka, one-who-sits-above; wkanka, wife. --Ruth Beebe Hill, Hanta Yo Having abandoned the premise that revisionist impulses originate in 1970, we can now more fully appreciate how this decades revisionist works illustrate the continuity of a larger impulse. In this way, we can see how this decades works function not as echoes of radical calls in 1970, but as further movements in a longer orchestration. Many of this decades works continue similar strategies and forms, as we shall see. However, some works offer intriguing developments. For example, Gayle Rogers The Second Kiss (1972) complicates the history of historical romances as argued by most critics. In his novels (1973, 1976), Forrest Carter offers more extensive revisionist arguments than in the movie version. And Ruth Beebe Hills Hanta Yo (1979) represents captivity from 306

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307 many perspectives as part of its larger revisionist agenda, although all of that revisionism disappears in the movie version (1984). These developments inform and invigorate the larger tradition of revisionist works in which they appear. Fiction Gayle Rogers The Second Kiss 1972 In addition to rearticulating conventional images of captivity and Native identity, Gayle Rogers The Second Kiss (1972) foreshadows many of the developments in historical romances using captivity for revisionist purposes that become so common by the end of the Eighties. Rogers novel coincides with the rise of the paperback historical romance in the early Seventies, as Radway argues (Matrix 449). Since it was originally a hardback, it does not qualify technically as a historical romance. However, it does display all the characteristics of the genre that Krentz. By historical romance novels I mean those works employing standard romantic plots and characters published for mass audiences, like those explored by critics like Radway, McCafferty, and Castiglia. By standard romantic plot I mean the basic structure described by critics like Jayne Ann Krentz, when she argues that this plot structure involves vicarious escape, androgynous characters, and clearly defined plots that validate heterosexual love as a norm and a potential goal for both partners. This coincidence of form and function causes The Second Kiss to retroactively question the definitions of the genres origins, as we shall see in the next chapters extended discussion of historical romances. While crafting a romance novel consistent with the standard plot forms, Rogers also advances a revisionist agenda by problematizing the conventional categorizations of captivity and Native identity. First, Rogers crafts a plot in which captivity precipitates a romantic conclusion for Maria and Nakoa. Previous authors have used this device, and

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308 historical romance authors will continue to use it. Here, as there, the captivity also serves as a vehicle for realizing the protagonists otherwise impossible relationship (e.g. 37-39). Rogers language also invokes the conventions of historical romance as when she has Nakoa and Maria attest their love for each other (e.g. 146) or in their sex scenes (e.g. 303). She also uses standard characters like Atsana, the ethereal mystic who haunts burial grounds and is less of this earth than of dreams (e.g. 101) and whose doomed love for Apikunni results in their mutual tragedy. As others will continue to do long after this novel, Rogers maintains and nourishes these standard romantic plot line and characters in conjunction with her revisionist agendas. She introduces those agendas virtually from the beginning of Maria and Nakoas relationship. They range the gamut from realizations that the Pikuni are clean (53) to extensive example of traditional tribal practices (ranging from preparations for the Sun Dance Ceremony 159-63 to preparations of buffalo 149) and life ways (traditional societies functions and origins, 47 and 62). As part of his agenda to accelerate her assimilation within the tribe, Nakoa forces Maria to repeat her language lessons constantly (e.g. 63). In time she comes to realize that Pikuni language is beautiful, full of metaphoric possibilities that she had never realized (62). She underscores the centrality of accurate representations of Pikuni life ways by including a bibliography (324-15). This inclusion echoes previous authors like Brand and Burroughs who had so thoroughly researched their subjects prior to writing their revisionist works. It also foreshadows those historical romance authors like Janelle Taylor and Cassie Edwards who will include similar rhetorical devices, usually extensive endnotes detailing historical and ethnographic information relevant to their novels.

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309 But Rogers reserves her most extensive revisionism for her representations of captivity. By making the primary focus of her novel the romantic relationship between a white female captive and a red male captor, Rogers can and does rearticulate the conventional captivity narrative rhetoric. By constantly shifting the focus from traditional Pikuni experiences for captors and captives to the innovations that Nakoa creates because of his love for Maria, Rogers can contrast these two possibilities as well as advance the argument that captivity was never reducible to such traditions. Moreover, readers come to realize the difficulties associated with romantic relationships between captors and captives, a theme explored by Native authors like Erdrich and Silko. In this way Rogers most effectively counters the reductivism inherent in conventional captivity representations and encourages readers to accept revisionist arguments about both captivity and Native identity. Forrest Carters Gone to Texas, 1973 and 1976 Forrest Carters novel Gone to Texas (originally titled, The Rebel Outlaw: Josey Wales 1973) offers more subtlety reformative images of captivity than the movie. In the novel, Carter (re)contextualizes Ten Bears and Little Moonlights characters, as well as casting Native characters in a more positive light. Carter uses captivity to endorse these Native characters and Native peoples in general as part of his larger revisionist agenda. First, he has Little Moonlight/Taketoha appear as a Cheyenne whom Black Kettle had outcast for, what he believed, was insufficient resistance to her rape by an Arapaho. Here, then the film differs with its explanation that she had been a captive, the film insisting on captivity-as-complexity, whereas the novel insists upon the arbitrariness of a leader who is elsewhere revered. However, both movie and novel portray her as garrulous and deserving of Joseys admonishments about her talking (80-81). Both novel

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310 and movie portray Lone Watie, Laura Lee, and Sarah as captives of the Comancheros from whom Josey must rescue them. But the novel adds Little Moonlights explanation to Josey and Lone that the Comancheros trade captives to the Comanches for horses, thereby redefining the captors as Comancheros, and their exchange with the Comanches as captivity-as-commodity (115-6). When the novel explains Ten Bears intentions for the captives he plans to take, it is in terms of the violent revenge he will exact on them as recompense for the atrocities whites had committed against his people (174-75). Where the novel significantly departs in its reformation of captivity is in terms of Ten Bears own captivity. Readers learn that he and Spotted Horse were captured when young warriors by Tonkaways. His memory reveals in detail that their captors systematically ate Spotted Horse alive, until Ten Bears managed to free himself during the night and kill their captors. Upon his return to the Comanche camp, he began to rise in power and respect (163-65). Besides representing the traditional antagonism between these two tribes, Ten Bears captivity narrative also distinguishes him as resourceful and thereby a fit model for other captives to emulate, as his narrative circulates among his people. From these positive uses of captivity, Carter launches a more explicit revisionism in The Vengeance Trail of Josey Wales (1976), which appears in the same year as his equally (in)famous The Education of Little Tree and the movie version of his first novel. To achieve this goal, Carter figures the edge, to borrow his phrasing, so that readers who are insensitive to his revisionism will believe that this second Wales novel is simply a captivity-rescue novel with Mexicans as the captors and Josey as the superior frontiersman-rescuer. They wont see how he places the sun so that they are caught with

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311 it in their eyes, to continue this metaphor. Carter infuses this novel with protracted revisions of captivity. As part of this revisionism, readers witness the extreme brutality of the Mexican captors towards their captives, a phrase which Carter uses throughout to emphasize their position in his rhetoric. And, he does have Wales and his band rescue these first two, earning the respect of Geronimo in the process (who had freed himself with the help of Ten Spot). But Carter underscores the revisionist aspects of this reformulation with his extended passages (re)contextualizing Apache life ways as the consequence of Spanish imperialism, not some innate cultural ferocity (e.g. 354-62, 383-85). These passages provide more than fuller plots: they argue directly to readers for a revisionist perspective on officially authorized narratives, captivity and otherwise, of Native peoples. Here Carter hits readers with both barrels, to return to the earlier metaphor. Such an agenda reveals Carters continued commitment to revising standard images. Paul Gallicos Miracle in the Wilderness 1976 Paul Gallico's novella Miracle in the Wilderness (1976) unabashedly functions as a testament to Christian redemption and mercy in was that resonate with earlier captivity narratives. It revolves around the conversion experiences of a family of three captured by Algonquin's on Christmas Eve. The party witnesses a miraculous sight during their return to their captors' country: a family of three deer kneels in the forest as if in prayer. The strangeness of this sight and the joy it causes the cause their captors to determine the meaning of the deer's actions. Jasper then recounts the story of Nativity (complete with the animals kneeling in prayer). His testament only intensifies the captors' fascination with the event. Upon learning that a rescue party of Iroquois and English are approaching, the captors' leader decides to leave the captives there: he reasons that since

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312 the rescuers will stop to attend to the captives and since they have witnessed this miracle, they should not offend the God to whom the animals and Jasper's family pray. Gallico introduces the argument that the captors' leader was "a human being beset by most of the problems that have dogged the footsteps of man and leaders down through the ages" (20). Such minor attempts to humanize that leader temper what is otherwise an explicit celebration of Christian values. By having this miracle occur during the horrors (immediate and impending) of captivity, Gallico argues that God will attend to His charges whenever and wherever He finds them--even in the seemingly hopeless situation of captivity-a message consistent with some of the most celebrated captivity narratives. When Turner Broadcasting Company decides to revise and reproduce Gallico's story for television (1991), it chooses to introduce contemporary issues of political correctness, but essentially maintains the essence of Gallico's original. It does have Jasper (Kris Kristofferson) translate an Indianized Nativity story (complete with Cherokees and Cheyenne, along with other tribes, meeting for a Sun Dance and a Native Mary and Joseph) to convert the awed captors. In doing so, it approaches the ways Run of the Arrow (1957) uses OMears Christianity: as proof against assimilation. Moreover, the book and movie resemble most strongly Against A Crooked Sky (1975) with its explicit endorsements of Christian beliefs. For example, it has Charlotte Turner (Jewel Blanch) convert her captivity and her captors through her resolve to maintain her Christian ethos--so much so that a tribeswoman sacrifices herself for Charlotte because of the power of the passage from John 15:13 and the tribe resolves to abandon its traditional practices of sacrificing captives. Taken together, these uses of captivity by these works indicates an overarching concern to validate Christianity through/against an extremely

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313 antagonist threat of altering the characters relationship to Christianity through captivity and adoption. In other words, captivity serves Christianity as a final proof. In doing so, it approaches the ways Run of the Arrow (1957) uses OMears (Rod Steigers) claim about his identity to his captors: that he will be Sioux in all things, except in his adherence to his Christian beliefs, which he will maintain; that remnant of his previous life allows him to sympathetically put his enemy Lt. Driscoll, (Ralph Meeker) out of his misery when he is being tortured by his captors. However, the major distinction between these two is that Run of the Arrow tries very diligently to represent Sioux/Olalla culture with respect, even having Running Coyote (John C. Flipper) give OMears ethnographic and linguistic lessons while Against a Crooked Sky has an imaginary tribal culture as its captors. Frederick Manfreds The Manly-Hearted Woman 1975 Elsewhere, other Western historical novels invoke captivity as part of a larger agenda to revise conventional images of Native peoples. In The Manly-Hearted Woman (1975), Frederick Manfred uses captivity minimally through a character named Molest, short for Molest Me The White Men Have. Manfred recounts briefly her captivity: first captured by the Omaha, she is traded to the Kansa, who in turn trade her to a white fort where she is bound and gang-raped, before fleeing to rejoin her tribe. She and the remainder of her tribe believe her contact with the whites has tainted her, and that Flat Warclubs lovemaking can restore her to a prior wholeness (99-100). This brief recounting, however, outlines the complicated nature of captivity: captivity becomes an act imposed on captives by any number of groups for any number of reasons. Race does not determine captivity. Reassimilation can be realized. By doing so, Manfred joins other authors who use captivity among Native peoples to illustrate a revisionist argument.

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314 Clay Fishers Black Apache 1976 In more traditional Western fiction, captivity continues to also play a range of roles. For example, Clay Fisher continues to contribute complex rearticulations of captivity as he had done from the Fifties on (e.g. Yellowstone Kelly ,1957). In this tradition, his Black Apache (1976) uses captivity as a means to readmit Flicker to the society he abandoned after his wife was murdered and raped by a white army officer. Flicker had vowed to elevate the Apaches to an equal status with the whites (94-95), but has come to realize that white domination of the Apaches is inevitable. He then accepts the responsibility for rescuing a white woman from marauding Yaquis--again, the price for his readmission. However, at this point the narrative diverts from its standardized storyline to allow Stella to relate her captivity narrative (134-42). During this scene, we learn that her original captor was a Mexican bandit, who lost her to Apache captors, who traded her to other Comancheros and other tribesmen because of her refusal to have sex with her captors. Eventually, she is raped repeatedly, gives birth to twins, which her (at this point) Apache captors consider an ill omen and subsequently avoid her, relegating her to the role of slave. Finally, Geronimo gives her as a token of trust to the Yaquis during a truce negotiation. Then she learns that she is intended for the fate worse than death--Monkey Woman's camp--and decides to escape. At this point Flicker and Father Nunez find and rescue her. This sordid and protracted detailing of her captivity illustrates the economic function of captivity, but also echoes earlier examples of how patriarchally-oriented male captives to voice their narratives with the intent of illustrating their captors' atrocities, but in doing so permit alert readers to see the true nature of the captivity presented. Such is not the case with LAmours novel which appears at this same time.

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315 In his To the Far Blue Mountains (1976), LAmour sprinkles passing references to captivity, all of which echo his agenda elsewhere to revise conventional images of captivity. First he has the Muslim character Sakim describes his experiences as captivity to Europeans (157), then he introduces Wa-ga-su, a Catawba rescued from his Seneca captors, and finally he has Jago relate vaguely his capture among the Tuscaroras (245). Apart from these, he does not use captivity explicitly, but these passing references are significant in their origin and their revisionist implications. They are minor notes that strike major cords, particularly from the author of Hondo for the ways that they argue multiple perspectives on captivity, and thereby its revision. As with previous decades, not all Western fictional works use captivity as a means to endorse Native peoples or to revise race relations. Some, like Fred Grove's The Child Stealers (1973) actively uses captivity as part of its racist rhetoric. Similarly, Evelyn Sibley Lampman's recount of Olive Oatman's captivity White Captives (1975) unrelentingly defines Native peoples as "savages," and even redefines the sacrifice of the Cocopha captive as a Mohave innovation on the Crucifixion (123). Lewis B Pattens Cheyenne Captives (1978) similarly invokes captivity as a means to define captors (and by extension all Native peoples) as savages whose lust for white flesh legitimates their destruction. In part, such works illustrate the need for continued rsistance by revisionist works. They also illustrate why revisionist works continue to engage stereotypical uses of captivity. They do not, as critics like Slotkin argue, indicate some sort of apocalyptic events signaling the death of the Western. One more event occurs at this time which resonates throughout the next decades: the publication of Dee Brown's Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee (1970). This revisionist

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316 book effects the popular and academic perception of Native peoples; it continues to speak with authority today. Although he does not specifically use the word "captivity" in his book (preferring "kidnapping" and "kidnapped" instead; Quannah Parker is a "half-breed," with no mention of his mother or her story, 11), Brown does explicitly label what early colonists did to Native peoples as slavery. In doing so, he equates their captivity with slavery, a move other revisionists (like Silko) will also make in an attempt to recontextualize the issues and promote understanding of and from both states. Ruth Beebe Hills Hanta Yo 1979 Chunska Yuha, a Mdewakantonwan Dakotah, testifies to Hills integrity and desire to represent the Dakotah in English, a project stretching back at least until 1963, and which functions as a two-way bridge that spans a gulf two hundred years wide (11). From such ostensibly revisionist goals, Hill crafts her novel which is literally full of major and minor instances of captivity, all of which contribute to her lager revisionary program. 1 For example, readers find captivity sprinkled throughout the novel in minor, though informative, ways: when the Sicangu capture two Sahiela women (43-44); when Peta cautions Olepi against marrying one of the Sahiela captives, so that he can keep his lineage, and the burgeoning Lakotah band, pure (48); the Oyantehumpa captives (132); the claim that Palani eat captives (206); when Tonweya contemplates capturing a Oyatenumpa girl to replace the lost sister his mother mourns (425); and when Kehala marries Yuza, the Psa boy-captive who had defied the Lakotah (443). She promotes traditional accounts of captivity when she describes the fate of grieving Psa captives (see epigraph above, 475). She illustrates the extremes of captivity 1 Mystic Warrior (1984) the TV-movie version of her novel, completely ignores Hills constant focus on captivity; instead it only mentions it once as a threat from an invading tribe toward the very end of the movie.

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317 through its didactic function: from Olepis tortures of a captive as a lesson to the young men about the possible fate of captives (266) to Pselas abuse of Palani captives and subsequent bragging of it (465). But she also explores in depth more complex relationships with captivity, as through Tonweyas experiences with captivity. Elsewhere, Hill develops captivity at great length, as she does with Anpaglis character. Hill further complicates relationships with captivity by having characters enact captivity in nontraditional ways. Captivity appears throughout her novel in minor, explanatory capacities (when the Lakotah send back ten Psa captives whom no one adopted with gifts and horses as a way of placating the captives' original village, or that Winu's abusive nature is the result of her own abuse as a captive, or that Olepi lacks to the ability to love because his mother was a captive, and as the origin of Hunka ceremony, 639, 485, 676-69). She expands on these instances when she has Ahbleza, as part of his larger peace agenda, take a Psa captive as his hunka to demonstrate the true meaning of that ceremony, or when she has Tabloka take the white trader captive so that he can have a translator for written English, like the Psa have, only to have the whole affair literally explode in their faces (777). She also offers versions of captivity not often seen, as when Pesla and some other warriors who wanted a different remembrance of this attack, warriors who desired performing iwicahupi on those male captives they had spared for such purpose (626). One of her most telling instances occurs through Anpagli. During a raid on the Psa camp, Tonweya captures Anpagli, a Psa woman. Hill carefully constructs her defiant attack on her captor, and her subsequent reaction to being a captive (624-31). Unlike her

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318 sister captives, she refuses to mourn her fate as a Lakotah captive, thereby earning the contempt of her sister captives. Instead, she believes her husband Tasa will rescue her, so she plots and executes her own escape. Tonweya recaptures her, and returns her to the captive band. There, she learns that he husband constantly tried to rescue her, only to be killed by her captors. In this act of defiance she continues her previous brave defense against assimilation: So let these captives try to tell her differently; let the jealous claim that the small flame which lights the camp makes identification of a beadwork design difficult and that those leg-covers belong to a different Psa, one who persists in his search for the yellow horse. Let these persons say anything they choose to say, but she, Anpagli, will go on knowing that Tasa dies trying to get back his woman. Why wail? Instead why not remember that Tasa helps her make-a-baby, a man-baby to whom she will say: your father dies bravely; your father dies trying to protect you. And now Anpagli dared truly scheme; in one way or another she shall escape the enemy camp and return to her people. She will see Tasas child growing up among his own, Tasas sonhis only son nowwho shall become a good-man, a four-honors man. Why let the unborn child hear her wailing? Instead, let him hear a voice singing proudly. (631) Visiting the other Psa-captives in the village, she almost reveals her pregnancy, but resigns herself to escape or die before becoming like them: dispirited and disheveled. As she escapes, Anpagli considers her unborn sons future: But if he stays among the cut-throats they will own her son and teach him a loathing for the Absa. He shall take horses from the Absa camps and kill persons whose blood flows in him. He will not rememberperhaps he never will knowhis true-tribe. And never will she see him lay his hand proudly on his breast and hear him say, I am a child of the Absa, a child of the alert, big-nose bird. And so, gladly she will die traveling these grasses and hills before ever she gives birth to her son in the camps of these cut-throats, the Lakotah. (641) When Tonweya recaptures her, she has just aborted her son, believing that he will be stillborn since her baby-gifts were not accepted at a traditional baby-pool. Once back in

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319 the Lakotah camp, Anpagli quickly assimilates, accepting Tacincala as her sister and Cankuna as her mother. Eventually she and Tonweya fall in love and marry. As this last instance illustrates, Hill is equally interested in revising conventional images of captivity and identity as she is in representing traditional images. The extreme degree to which she does so indicates the profundity of her commitment to revisionism. Movies While we have already discussed the faults defining movies like Return of a Man Called Horse (1976) and The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976), we have not discussed other movies from this decade that engage conventions in meaningful ways. In keeping with this drive toward complicating conventions James Olsons novel Ulzana (1973) explores captivity only briefly in its explicitly revisionist account of Chiricahua Apache life in the last half of the nineteenth century. He incorporates historical events like Bakers actions of what he believed to be Apache captives and the consequential war that results and ethnographic practices like torture by Apache women of captives (66-67, 171), but he does so in a very distanced way. In another instance he comes close to reiterating the very stereotyped images which his introduction claims to counter when he has the warriors raid a wagon train. After the raid, Son-dai-say smashed the [captive] babys head against a large boulder. Olson explains that his action is the consequence of the babys being too young to travel on the desert, thereby contextualizing its murder as both pragmatic and humane, given the torment it would otherwise suffer accompanying the warriors back to the ranchera (73). Elsewhere, Olson introduces captivity in more extensive passages that illuminate acculturation. First, Olson introduces Baychen, an ancient Mexican captive, believed by many to be a witch. Ulzana befriends her and learns from her of the world outside

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320 Apachera, as she recounts her captivity narrative (42-44). Olson later has Ulzana announce to Captain Creighton that Victorios raiders took a white child captive to raise as an Apache, to which Crieghton replies Not this one. Well get him back (173). As these examples show, Olsons use of captivity ranges the gamut of possibility with the intent of revising reductive constructions. When Olsons book becomes a movie in 1973, it retains its drive toward relativism and explanation (as when it contextualizes Ulzanas raid as an attempt to regain lost power and the grief caused by his sons death--even Apache war chiefs feel pain). It also graphically depicts the fate of captives several times (the trooper drug away at the beginning of the raid). But the movie is much more explicit in its questioning of the construction of Native American identity and its expression in violence (of which captivity forms a part). To foreground this intent, Robert Aldrich orchestrates scenes in which DeBuin (Bruce Davison) explicitly states and questions premises of universal humanity and specific savagery. For example, before the patrol DeBuin argues that his fathers universalist beliefs define Native Americans as people, a point which DeBuin questions throughout the movie as he begins to witness the atrocities committed by the raiders. But Alrdich also contextualizes the violence Ulzana unleashes when he has DeBuin question Ke-Ni-Tay (Jorge Luke) about this peoples cruelty. There, Ke-Ni-Tay explains the Ulzana is seeking to regain his lost power through the violence of the raid. Furthermore, he recontextualizes the savagery of both sides by having the soldiers mutilate Ulzanas dead sons body, then having McIntosh (Burt Lancaster) explicitly label DeBuins discomfort as the consequence of his having to realize that white men can act like Indians.

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321 In keeping with the balanced approach, Aldrich variously uses these revisionist constructions with scenes that support stereotyped ideologies, as when the trooper shoots Mrs Rukeyser (Gladys Holland) before she can be captured and killed and has Mrs. Riordan (Dran Hamilton) beg DeBuin to kill her before the Apaches can recapture her. However, in these two instances of violence and captivity, Alrdich also plays another revisionist card when he has Ulzanas raiders rape and leave Mrs. Riordan alive so that DeBuin will weaken his forces. McIntosh explains that Apaches normally rape women captives to death, so that Mrs. Riordans survival is meant as a strategy to divide and conquer DeBuins forces. Here, captivity functions in a standard way, but also with a revisionist twist--as a calculated strategy that will maximize the captors success. In this way, the captors use Anglo captivity narrative traditions to their advantage. While trying to reinstate those traditions, McIntosh loses his life--an ironic commentary on Western iconography comparable to that of Ford in Fort Apache (1948) or Johnson in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence (195). Television While these novels are offering their revisions, television continues to offers its versions through series like Gunsmoke (e.g. Woman for Sale and Squaw) and reruns of movies like Little Big Man Several made-for-television movies and series from this decade also offer revisionist perspectives on captivity. For example, I Will Fight No More Forever (1975) dramatizes Cooks original novel and receives two Emmies. Hanna-Barbera produces an animated version of The Last of the Mohicans (1976) which avoids issues of miscegenation first by having Chingachgook kill Magua, and then by having Alice (accompanied by her annoying lap dog Pip) ride off into the romantic sunset with the last of the Mohicans, Uncas: captivity is an unpleasant interlude along the way,

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322 where Magua revealed his lustful intention for Cora, but nothing more. The made-for-TV versions of The Last of the Mohicans (1977) and The Deerslayer (1978) offer less-qualified revisions of captivity and Native identity. The Quest (1976) provides an excuse for weekly misadventures Out West rather than a serious reformulation of captivity. Centennial the mini-series based on James Michners novel by the same name, runs from 1978 to 1979 and offers examples of captivity-as-communication. Finally, the Disney movie The Treasure of Matacumbe. (1976) introduces captivity as one of the many adventures possible during its treasure hunt, otherwise it is a minor element in the plot-line. Little House on the Prairie 1974-1983 Elsewhere, programs adopt more explicitly revisionist stances, as does Little House on the Prairie Perhaps such a claim is not too surprising, given its audience and the fact that Michael Landon was exposed to a high degree of revisionism during his Bonanza days. When this series confronts the reductivism of conventional rhetoric, it does so vigorously, as it does in "Injun Kid" (1977). This episode dramatizes the racism toward Native peoples and the prejudice directed toward former female captives. It uses two plot lines, one focusing on Spotted Eagle (Caesar Rameriz) and the other on Amelia (Ivy Jones). In this way, this episode makes the issues of identity and captivity more accessible to its audiences. Moreover, by having Spotted Eagle appear to be Amelias son by her captor, the episode inextricably binds the two issues together. Amelias father immediately rejects her son because of his identity and because his existence refutes the story that her father has been telling now for twelve years: that she was captured by the Lakota. Amelias return to her fathers house jeopardizes his use of captivity to prevent people from knowing that she was a willing squawthat she chose

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323 to marry a Lakota man while she was teaching at the reservation school. This episode then elaborately builds a series of scenes which reveal the extremes of racial hatred by the prejudiced whites in contrast to the acceptance manifest by the Ingalls and the legitimacy of the Lakota boy and his culture. The metaphors of "savagery" and "blood" constantly and consistently emphasize the issues of racial tolerance. Amelias father refers to the atrocities of the Great Sioux Uprising, which Charles Ingalls (Michael Landon) immediately counters with the claim that both sides committed such acts. All of this bigotry climaxes when the grandfather's visceral hatred turns to acceptance and open love, which causes him to claim publicly his kinship to the Indian boy and confess his own past mistakes in denying that relationship. This conversion serves as a metaphor for all bigots, the ultimate message of this show. In this sense, this episode reiterates similar calls for tolerance, sowing seeds (to use this show's metaphors) for a more tolerant future. But in delivering this message about bigotry, this episode has introduced the larger constellation of issues surrounding captivity--both in terms of its legitimacy and its "true" nature. Quite a lot for a one-hour, prime-time children's program noted for its promotion of family values. In keeping with this spirit (literally and figuratively) Halloween Dream (1979) offers a Halloween fantasy involving Laura and Alberts captivity. Originally dressing as Indians for a Halloween party, the pair is captured by a band of Indians. Resourceful as ever, Laura manages to free the pair. The chase scene climaxes in a wild wagon ride through town, much to the Cavalry officers regret that he could not exterminate the captors and their tribe. The final scenes metatextual gesture of having Willie begin his dream-sequence all over again, underscores this episodes emphasis on the construction

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324 of identity and captivity through negative rhetorical media. In other words, the audience realizes that this episode is a fiction as much as they realize that conventional representations of identity and captivity are fictions. How the West Was Won 1976-1979 Under its numerous titles, the series based on How the West Was Won offers revisionist images of almost every aspect of traditional Westerns on a regular, if not weekly basis. When it is syndicated and run on the Turner Broadcasts systems in the Eighties and Nineties, it continues to represent its revisionist agenda. With its continuous episode format, it is able to develop nuances of character and plot that are normally avoided by feature films and single-episode series. Of all its revisions, its rearticulations of captivity feature most prominently to our study. We shall examine two separate scenarios below, but first we will briefly review the original extent of the series. Originally, the series launches as a three-hour movie, The Macahans (1976), which moves the story line along from the close of the original movie to a Western relocation of the featured family. This movie also represents James Arness first role away from the Gunsmoke series which had just ended, and so has his drawing power. From this success, How the West Was Won a 6-hour movie (1977), follows. Finally, the series by the same name (26 one-hour shows in 1978, and 11 two-hour shows in 1979) appears. Television viewing audiences are able to see this revisionist Western weekly for a three year period, before it moves to syndication. The sheer volume of this material and its continuous play argue effectively for an audience who chooses a sophisticated approach to material often played stereotypically elsewhere. Moreover, stars from this series trade off and from their success in other Western vehicles during and immediately after this

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325 series original run (e.g. Bruce Boxleittner). This interaction also argues for the viability and desirability by audiences of alternative Westerns. Captivity plays itself out in quite sophisticated ways during several episodes of the television series How the West Was Won. Episodes 7-10 offer rearticulations of Western iconography, but most particularly of captivity. After being involved in a stagecoach accident, Jessie MacCahan (Vicki Shreck) and her aunt Molly Culhane (Fionnula Flanagan) become separated. Molly returns to the stagecoach line and enlists the aid of someone named Deek Peasley (Harris Yulen) who claims to have been a close friend of Zeb MacCahans (James Arnes) to find Jessie. Since the accident Jessie has been wandering the desert suffering from heat stroke and dehydration. During her wanderings a young Native American man, Teel-o, (Ray Tracey) of indeterminate tribal identity discovers her. He first decides not to shoot her, and then he offers her food, water, and a ride on his horse back to his village. He offers her no hint of physical abuse. When she realizes that he is a Native and that he is taking her in the opposite direction of the nearest town, she adamantly refuses to go with him. In a move designed to save her from her own ignorance of the landscape, he then grabs her and tries to place her on the horse. Fearing abuse and the possibility of captivity, Jessie struggles and accidentally kicks his horse, which bolts away. Disgusted at her actions, the still anonymous young man chases the horse leaving her alone again in the desert. After he has gone, she realizes the severity of her situation. Thus ends the first episode in this encounter with captivity. When the story resumes with the next installment, Molly, Laura (Kathryn Holcomb) and Josh (William Kirby Cullen) have joined Peasley in their search for Jessie.

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326 When Peasley announces that an Indian is with her, Laura immediately asks Mr. Peasley, are you saying Jessie has been captured by Indians? Lauras question magnifies Peasleys observation from one Indian to a multitude, and thereby illustrates the ease with which standardized conceptions emerge from situations involving Natives and Anglos. Increasingly, Peasley reveals his malevolent intent toward the MacCahan family by delaying the search and making comments about Jessies probable abuse at the hands of the buck. For example, he replies Depends on if anything is occupying his time, when asked how far ahead they might be. His tone reveals hints at the probable sexual abuse that the buck is inflicting on Jessie. Again, Peasley uses the cluster of images associated with captivity in Anglo representations to increase the familys anxiety when Josh insists that they continue the search since Jessie is out there with that Indian. He pointedly replies Indian bucks got something on his mind, son, day or night it aint gonna matter, know what I mean? Through such means Peasley heightens the familys fears associated with captivity by Native Americans, and thereby increases the degree of revenge he can exact from Zebs family. In direct contrast to such abusive images, the editors present scenes in which Teel-o and Jessie share food, tentative companionship, and communication. We watch as she struggles unsuccessfully to communicate her name to him. Realizing her frustration, he then explains in sign language that she will ride with him for five days to his village. Unlike the stereotyped images popularized about Tarzan movies, here communication does not immediately transform the bestial into the civilized, allowing romance to then develop. Instead, two people struggle to overcome each others cultural and linguistic

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327 differences as they survive in the desert. Captivity does not describe the relationship these two characters share. In addition to the ways in which these images serve to articulate the binary of captivity, the editors also intersperse these scenes with those recording the efforts made by Zeb to repay what he considers his debt to the Arapahos that saved his family by buying and driving a herd of cattle up from Texas for them. In the process he will teach various tribal members how to be cowboys. As we watch the search for Jessie, we also watch Zeb, Luke (Bruce Boxleitner) and the Arapaho drivers move the herd up, struggling all the way against the environment and the prejudices against Native peoples. The cattle drive serves as a background revealing the extent of such hatred against which the series editors and producers position scenes displaying the integrity of the Arapaho drivers. In this way the series serves as a form of reformative vehicle stressing the need for intercultural equity. Captivity proves central to such a campaign. Childrens Literature Many childrens books at this time offer revisionist perspectives. For example, Caroline McDermott's Little Crow (1974) represents Native peoples as humans with the same sorts of inhibitions and expectations as other peoples. In its attempts to correct the record about black settlement in the West, Barbara Brenners Wagon Wheels (1978) has the main characters confront their inherited prejudice against Indians and realize that some Indians are good. Margaret Friskeys Indian Two Feet and the Wolf Cubs (1971) and Indian Two feet and the ABC Moose Hunt (1978) offer additional positive endorsements of Native identity without using captivity. Perennial favorites like Scott ODells Sing Down the Moon (1970) offer more complicated and extended rearticulations of captivity, and thereby more fully articulate the premise of this study.

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328 Scott O'Dell Scott O'Dell's Sing Down the Moon (1970) offers many different images of captivity as part of its larger agenda of revising images of captivity. Most centrally to the story, it represents Bright Morning and Running Bird's captivity among the Spaniards in New Mexico, Rosita's disavowal of her own Native heritage for that of her captors. ODell also access aspects from other captivity narrative traditions when he portrays Nehana, the Nez Perc captive, demonstrates the type of resolve and courage that many Native accounts of female captives portray and encourage O'Dell represents captivity as a practice committed by Hispano-Americans on Native peoples. By revealing that the captors have taken captives from other tribes, as far north as the Nez Perc, O'Dell indicates that this practice was extensive and devastating in its erasure of individual and tribal identities. He drives home his point by personalizing the practice through Bright Morning's captivity. Finally, by having Tall Boy and Mando rescue the fleeing captives, O'Dell invokes then redefines the conventional pattern of captivity and rescue that critics like Slotkin emphasize. Here, however, O'Dell's reformulation emphasizes the practice of captivity upon Native peoples as part of his larger revisionist agenda in this retelling of The Long Walk and other policies toward Navaho peoples in the later nineteenth century. Furthermore, we may emphasize the publication date of this novel, as occurring in the pivotal year that Slotkin designates as defining the revisionist movement. However, as we have seen in numerous occasions, other revisionist works were diligently operating prior to this year. We should emphasize that this author of juvenile literature, like Lenski, has chosen to represent an apparently stable practice in terms that problematizes its stability as well as inviting

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329 young readers to further reconsider this practice and other similarly "stable" historical "facts." Sing Down the Moon also represents the first in a series of revisionist works that ODell authors. For example, he inaugurates a trilogy focusing on Julin Escobars exploits among the Meso and South American tribes at the very moment of their Conquest by Spain. He begins with The Captive (1979), his most explicitly revisionist work in this series as the title suggests. There he introduces the notion of Spanish slavery as captivity for Native peoples (e.g. 27-30). He details the violence and desperation of their captivity, before having them commit suicide rather than continue as Spanish captives. He demonstrates how Spanish conquistadores would intentionally provoke situations which would allow them to claim entire native populations as captives (72-73). Throughout this process he constantly uses the term captive to define their state. Such scenarios bears out Las Casas claims about Spanish colonial captivity. But ODell also complicates this simple binary by introducing Las Casas positions on enslaving African peoples (91). By so doing, ODell signals his intention of complicating the issues for his readers. He further complicates these issues in his other two works. For example, in The Amethyst Ring (1983), he has Atahualpa confront Pizzaro with an explicit statement of his captivity: Am I not a captive in your hands? (179)--a claim which redefines Atahualpas status as that of a captive and his story as a captivity narrative. In contrast, Moctezuma defines himself as Corts prisoner ( The Feathered Serpent 194), thereby revealing ODells careful deployment of captivity. He further complicates these issues by profiling Maya customs of sacrificing captives. He offers the argument that captives willing undergo such sacrifice, but then

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330 contrasts that sense of moral obligation with the defiance of an Aztecan captive (208). He justifies Escobars, now Kukulcns, acceptance of the custom at several points (most dramatically when he has Escobar confront. Perhaps his most complex redefinition of captivity comes when Excobar becomes Moctezumas captive, and almost a sacrifice. Chalco has tricked Escobar into a subtle verbal redefinition of captivity that defines it as a reciprocal obligation, rather than prelude to torture and death (128-30). ODells rearticulation here reveals the subtlety of his agenda. He reiterates this redefinition at the beginning of The Amethyst Ring In these ways, ODell extends his initial redefinitions in The Captive (1979) through the entire series, The Amethyst Ring (1983) and The Feathered Serpent (1984). William O. Steeles The Wilderness Tattoo: A Narrative of Juan Ortiz 1972 In direct contrast to his work in Tomahawks and Trouble (1955), William O. Steeles The Wilderness Tattoo: A Narrative of Juan Ortiz (1972) intersperses his version of Ortizs life with contemporary historical events and customs to contextual Ortizs life within the Sixteenth century worlds he inhabited and thereby redefine captivity as a relativistic practice. For example, he uses this structure to represent a balanced portrait of these worlds when he writes: Timucuans were no more warlike and cruel than other southeastern tribes, or than their Spanish opponents. It was a cruel age in Europe in the sixteenth century, and the thousands of people in the cities who flocked to see a criminal tortured were no better than the Indians watching an enemy tormented in their public square (39-40). As anyone familiar with Ortizs narrative will recognize, Steele relies upon this captivity (captivity-as-context) to formulate this universalist argument. As such, it fits into the longer tradition of rearticulating captivity for juvenile audiences so

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331 that they might be more sensitive to the reductive impulses driving much of conventional imagery. Comics Current Context This decade seems to begin with conventional images of captivity defining comics. For example, the Tarzan comic book entitled The Captive! (1972) has Tarzan taken captive by a scheming tribal leader while saving Tantor. Bound and about to be tortured to death, Tarzan pronounces himself I . AM CAPTIVE! (11)--a category emphasized further by the text and panels which represent captivity in very conventional terms, but which the cover art completely ignores. Similarly, the cover for the Rawhide Kid (#108, 1972) features mortal combat between the Kid and an Apache warrior, but does not hint that the story inside, Desert Fury, argues forcibly for a revisionist definition of captivity. readers learn that Sarah Evans has escaped after two years captivity among the Apaches, who forced her to marry one of them and consequently had a child which she is determined will never be raised among those savages! (6). She joins stagecoach passengers who reassure her that her ordeal is ended and that they will ferry her to freedom. However, her husband Grey Eagle, is equally determined that he will rescue his wife and child from the whites. In the ensuing showdown, the passengers, with the exception of the Rawhide Kid, agree to give her to the Apaches so that they can save themselves. This act causes Sarah to voluntarily return to her Apache people, as she chooses those who love her over the savages who would bargain their lives for hers (21). One passenger turns to the Kid and says: I dont get it. .. Her choosin to go back and live among the savages! to which the kid replies, To her, theyre not savages! The savages are her people, who wanted to abandon a woman and baby to save themselves!

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332 Indictment doesnt come more explicitly than that, and indicates again, how authors can structure their rhetoric about captivity to subvert prior stereotypical expectations. Continuing in this same vein, Marvel begins its short-lived Red Wolf (1972-73) in which the Cheyenne avenger (in the spirit of Straight Arrow ) disguises himself as a white Army scout so that he might better defend the helpless red and white citizens of the plains. Captivity, when its occurs, is the result of red and white renegades who are kidnapping captives rather than following some traditional tribal patterns, and ends in predictable resolutions. However, not everyone is endorsing red identity or captivity at this time, as another title from Marvel will prove. The cover for The Mighty Marvel Western (#35, "Wagon Train Massacre") tells everything about this issues image of captivity. There, Stan Lee portrays an embattled line of Anglo men in the foreground defending a group of wagons from an Indian attack, while two Native riders in the background have broken through the defense and are taking an Anglo woman captive. Oblivious to her captivity, the Rawhide Kid stands with six-guns blazing, offering reassurance to the woman in the wagon to his right: Dont worry. maam! Our six-gunsll hold those renegades off! She, however, cannot respond as her captor has clamped his hand over her mouth as he grabs her from the wagon. This ironic scene articulates the anxiety inherent in the familiar stance of Anglo-male-defender and Anglo woman-victim. Here, Lee portrays that anxiety graphically by juxtaposing the very act of captivity that the cover storys hero claims will not occur. The captors ability to thwart such a claim stems from their having rushed in from behind, implying their cowardly avoidance of the Kids deadly accurate six-guns, and seized a captive who, in concert with the face-to-face nature of endorsed violence has

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333 watched the battle and is therefore unaware. All of this relative positioning of the captors further implies the standard line about Native male lust for Anglo females, here so dominant that it causes a warrior to avoid (implicitly honorable) battle with other males. Of course, in keeping with this tradition, such depravity warrants the excessive violence of the captives rescuers in keeping her from a fate worse than death. However, the inside story does not represent captivity in anything approximating these terms. Such is not the case in the underground comics of this time. Some of this decades most radical revisions of captivity and Native identity derive from underground artists like Robert Crumb, whose Whiteman Meets Bigfoot (originally in Homegrown Funnies 1971), directly references and redefines the conventional captivity narrative. As the title suggests, a Bigfoot captures an Anglo, holds him in a form of sexual captivity before releasing him. However, he returns to his captor once he realizes the relatively greater freedom and possibilities he can have with his Bigfoot captor-now-lover. In this way Crumb references earlier works exploring the effects of reassimilation as well as the larger issues of captivity. As the title also suggests, this story deals with categories of identity, particularly conventional captor/captive roles. But this is simply one story in Crumbs extensive work. In the next decade, William Messner-Loebs will also explore a similar storyline (1987), but in this decade Jack Jacksons work represents the most sustained rearticulation of conventional images of captivity and Native identity in comics. Jack Jacksons Comanche Moon 1979 Jack Jacksons Comanche Moon (1979) operates on a level comparable to Hasseloffs and Capps novels for its complex rearticulation of captivity. Actually a collection of three earlier comics ( White Comanche 1977, Red Raider 1977, and Blood on the Moon 1978), this graphic novel has become a milestone in comics criticism for its

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334 unrelentingly realistic portrayal of the persecution of the Comanche peoples in the Nineteenth century (comparable to Art Spiegelmans Maus series, for those who are unfamiliar with it). 2 This novel forms part of Jacksons larger avowed intent to revise stereotypical images of the Western mythos so that modern audiences can realize the truth behind the fictions promoted by that mythos. He had performed a similar revision of white-red relations in his Nits Make Lice), which reveals the extreme racism motivating exterminations and other cruelties perpetrated in the name of nationalism by the U.S military and citizenry. Here, Jackson focuses on Quannah Parkers life as the primary focus, but together he needs to tell his mothers story. In doing so, he revises standard definitions of captivity (in particular as Capps, Johnson, or Hasseloff do) in ways that exceed comparable redefinitions because of the graphic nature (yes, that is a pun) of his novel. In other words, because of his form, Jackson can represent captivity and its redefinition in startling ways that solely textual forms cannot. In this way, his novel illustrates what critics have argued is one of the distinguishing characteristics of graphic novels and comics in general. To begin this rearticulation, Jackson first invokes standard references to captivity: bloody thirsty savages raping, killing, and pillaging a white settlement. The dreaded Comanches menace the Parker stockade, and by the end of the second page have taken Cynthia Ann captive. In the last panel of this page she sits behind a Comanche warrior, her horror stricken face contorted as her mother pleads for her life (9). He 2 Critics like Rusty Witek argue for Jacksons centrality to underground comics because of his graphic revisionism. Similarly, Roger Sabin argues that His superbly-rendered historical trilogy depicting the story of Comanche leader Quannah Parker . was a tour de force of comics realism that movingly personalized the tragedy of Native American displacement (173-74). 1 For additional insight into the problems of this translation, see Brian C. Johnsons Epic Struggles (1991).

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335 continues this rhetoric with images of an arrow pinioned bemoaning the captives fate God . Help them. . Gasp! . .in the bosom of the Comanche! The next page (11) unrelentingly portrays the rape and torture of the women captives taken by the Comanches, with Cynthia Ann again watching with horror stricken eyes. He then profiles briefly her introduction to Comanche life, her stoicism and bravery allowing her to be adopted (12). Here, then begins his chapter White Comanche, the first part of his revisionary portrait of Cynthia Ann Parker/Naduah, Quannah Parkers mother. At this point, Jackson contrasts her initial experience as a captive by emphasizing the humanity of her captors, who become her adoptive parents. We see her developing into a Comanche woman, and we also see the Comanche people as people, with individual quirks of behavior and speech. This humanizing drive determines much of how Jackson portrays the Comanche people in this novel. He couples this with a revisionary agenda that relies heavily on (re)contextualizing captivity. We have seen how he contrasts standard with revisionary rhetoric, but he also performs the further complication by including scenes like the one in which Comanche warriors lead a white child into captivity. There, the lead rider comments More fun than stealing cows. . and a lot more profitable! This comment amplifies his narratives claim about the economy of captivity for Comanches at this time. His use of vernacular language, comparable to contemporary speech, emphasizes the warrior as a person rather than a stereotype. He continues this humanization in the next chapter A Son Named Quannah, which profiles her marriage to Peta Nacona and their life together. Here he also shatters this idyll by having her recaptured by Texas Rangers. Jackson pointedly uses the terms recaptured and captive to describe her state with the rescuers. Doing so, he

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336 problematizes the solidity of those terms in standard formulations. He continually emphasizes this distinction by having Petas Mexican slave protect his masters wife and help her escape capture (37) to his death. He has the Rangers equate Cynthia Ann/Naduah and their booty as equivalent spoils (38). He will continue this revisionary rhetoric throughout the remainder of the novel, as he does when he has Quannah see a daguerreotype of his mother taken at the time of Cynthia Anns capture (111). He also extends the context of captivity by having white soldiers take a Comanchero captive (93). But his most telling example comes immediately after his initial designation of Cynthia Anns captivity, the chapter Second Captivity. There, Jackson details the difficulty Cynthia Ann experienced during her brief, forced reassimilation with her Anglo family. In large part, her experience parallels that of the Cynthia Anns represented by Capps, Johnson, and Hasseloff. But here Jackson uses the graphic nature of his work to its full extent, much as he had done in Nits Make Lice with his portraits of the graphic nature of white military savagery on red victims. Here, Jackson shows the scarring Cynthia Ann/Naduah performs after relatives deaths, the blood steaming from her slashed breast (40). He also reveals how Topsano, her daughter, accommodates to her new lifestyle, an aspect of Cynthia Anns/Naduahs reassimilation most other authors do not explore. Here, he does so by having Topsano play with her doll while with a group of white children. In the background, a white man comments on her facility with English, in contrast to her mother, but Jackson emphasizes his racist perspective by overcharacterizing his face (41). In these ways Jackson extends the arguments against conventional captivity ideology associated with Cynthia Anns/Naduahs recapture.

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337 Jacksons graphic novel formulation remains unique in the force and extent of its revisionist argument. His work differs markedly from works like Milo Manara and Hugo Pratts Indian Summer (1983) through its intense revisionary focus. Jacksons unique status results from the depth of his commitment to revision as well as economic factors. American Adult Comics decline in the 1970s, according to Roger Sabin, because of the combination of three major factors: the 1973 ruling that individual states could determine their own obscenity laws, sky-rocketing paper costs from the mid-1970s and the promulgation of anti-paraphernalia laws in 1973, which shut down the headshops in many states. Without a retail network, the culture could not survive for long (174). Fewer venues for radical revisions like Jacksons insure that such messages will remain relatively unique. Native American Literature Leslie Marmon Silkos Ceremony 1977 Revision of captivity defines Leslie Marmon Silkos work, from Ceremony (1977) through Storyteller (1981) to Almanac of the Dead (1992). She constantly and consistently rearticulates captivity from a deeply-held Laguna perspective, but also from a need to revise standard images of captivity held at the general level. This level of engagement and its sophistication argue for the centrality of revisionism to Silkos agendas. In Ceremony (1977), Silko uses captivity in an apparently minor way. However, as she develops its resonance throughout the novel, it gains amplitude. It also represents a rearticulation of captivity and Native identity that emphasize their construction in a reductive rhetoric. In this way, her use of captivity reveals the lie that was devouring everyone and everything and against which Betonie helps Tayo battle (191). Silko will

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338 return to this same lie in Almanac where it will assume a major importance, in part driving the captivity/slavery machinery rampant in the world. Here, her use of captivity is far more subtle. She reveals how Betonies grandmother was a captive, but a captive with a difference. She begins with her capture: His grandmother orchestrates her capture as part of the counter to the lie by hiding herself in the pion tree and signaling her presence with her blue shawl. She is in a tree when the Navajo raiders discover her and does not react as most captives do another indication that this is not an ordinary captivity. The man in the tree moved toward her cautiously, expecting her to fight, but she came down on her own, dropping softly into the dry needles under the tree. She did not cry like captives did, or jabber in her own language with tears running down her face. She held her mouth tight, teeth clenched under her thin lips, and she stared at them with hazel green eyes that had a peculiar night shine of a wolf or bobcat. (147) The raiders are ambivalent about releasing her, but will not allow their fear to compromise their masculinity. Reluctantly they take her with them, searching for Descheeny to get them out of this situation. Here, Silko has the raiders refer to her as the Mexican captive then offer her to Descheeny in conventional terms: Shes quite valuable, but she slows us down. You know how they are. Crying and screaming. Descheeny smiled at the lies. He shook his head. I can see what you have (148). Reductive rhetoric does not work here at the level of plot and reader: Descheeny and we both know that she is not a conventional captive. Descheeny proposes that they return her to her parents the next day, but she refuses because of the reactions her people would have. Silko then includes Descheenys wives reaction to the captive: they view her as unclean and subhuman one of those alien things that should not be touched. But Descheeny recognizes her contribution to the healing ceremony that will counter the lie.

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339 Silko elaborates this relationship so that we see that Descheenys interest in the captive is more than sexual. In so constructing this captivity, Silko engages conventional images at almost every level, providing us with a preview of what she will do so extensively in Almanac (1992). Storyteller 1981 Storyteller (1981) significantly reflects this agenda. As she creates a work that approximates oral forms and celebrates traditional and mixed Laguna culture, Silko prominently uses captivity. Here, she uses it in perhaps her most famous passage, Yellow Woman (54-62). Her narrative represents another version in a larger, traditional constellation of Yellow Woman stories (cf. Allens Spider Womans Granddaughters (211-18) which redefine captivity within traditional contexts which empower female captives. This captivity narrative has been so thoroughly explored by critics and anthologized that we need not discuss it at length here, but we do need to note here the impact of this story relative to revisionist captivity narratives. Silko revisits this complex later in Storyteller with Storytelling in which the narrator experiences the Yellow Woman story first hand, but, as she summarizes it, cant tell it very well (94-98). In other words, when she explains to her husband where and why she had gone, she does not convince him. In part, her failure lies with her husbands disassociation with traditional Yellow Woman stories. Instead, he lives in a contemporary world in which kidnapping is simply that, not a transcendent experience. The narrators appeal to the traditional complex does not coincide with her husbands perspective. Finally, Silko includes an autobiographical note about Juana which reveals the complexity and relativity of captivity in New Mexico during the nineteenth century (88

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340 89). There she reveals how Juana was kidnapped by slavehunters who prowled New Mexico in search of Navajos to capture and sell. This brief sketch provides a poignant reminder that other Juanas were captured and raised Mexican in New Mexico and other states, and that the only narrative of their captivity is this slight reference to their captivity among the Mexicans. By including this detail and giving the general context of organized slavery/captivity of Navajos by the Mexican, Silko argues for the existence of a formal captivitya position that she expands in her Almanac as we saw in the introduction.

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CHAPTER 9 THE EIGHTIES Bull Shield then unsheathed his heavy knife and began to saw my fingers off, one by one. At first I tried to be silent to show that it did not bother me. My hands were numb because of the cold. But then the pain hit the warm parts of me and coursed through my body like lightning. I nearly bit my tongue off. Then I screamed like a real-lion and fainted again. --James Welch Fools Crow I am an American. A white man. But I cannot live with the trickery and deceit I see being staged here. I dont think of my actions as treason. I am merely attempting to even the odds, if only in a small way. If most Americans understood what was being done to the Seminoles, they would not find me guilty. Enough said. --Fern Michaels, Wild Honey Our people do the same if they capture enemies. So do the Montagnais and the Huron. An enemy must be made to cry out in pain. That is why they torture us. But, alone, the Iroquois is like you or me. --Brian Moore, Black Robe Many people know the movie version (1990) of Michael Blakes novel, Dances With Wolves (1988). Through these two vehicles, audiences experience revisionist uses of captivity and Native identity with compelling force. The novel offers readers their first insights into Stands With a Fists' captivitya compelling example of empowering female captivity narratives. The movie version of this novel, which Blake also adapts, continues that same insight, but omits and changes certain details. Captivity, in both cases, however, remains the prerogative of more savage tribes, and therefore a means to 341

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342 legitimating the featured tribes (Comanches in the novel/Lakotahs in the movie). In this sense, although the movies success has done much to foreground issues of Native identity, it has not done much to advance revisions of captivity. However, the Eighties witness a virtual explosion of revisionism in historical romance novels and Native American Literature. Multiple series appear (e.g. Janelle Taylors Savage series). Louise Erdrich is prolific in her revisions of conventional images, from her poems (e.g. Captivity) to her prose (e.g. American Horse). Western historical fiction abounds with revisionist examples of captivity and identity. John Boormans Emerald Forest (1985) offers its arguments about captivity and identity. In short, virtually every genre and media continues to represent revisionist arguments. Moreover, with the increasing presence of venues like cable television, older arguments are continually resurfacing for new audiences. Fiction Historical Romance Novels To claim that historical romances begin using revisions of captivity and Native identity in this decade we would have to ignore over a centurys worth of material. First, we would need to ignore arguments like Janice Radways about the origin of the sweet, savage romance genre in the Seventies (Matrix 449). We would also have to ignore the longer tradition of works combining romance, history, captivity and Native identity. The list of such historical romances using revisionism is long and includes many works that we have already considered, such as Childs Hobomok (1824), Sedgewicks Hope Leslie (1827), Reids The Scalp Hunters (1851) and The White Chief (1872), Ryans Squaw Elouise (1892), almost all of Greys novels, Burroughs The War Chie f (1927), Barrys A Time in the Sun (1962), and Rogers The Second Kiss (1972).

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343 Given the greater number of used or trade paperbacks still in circulation, our chances of reconstructing this centurys uses of captivity and Native identity to advance revisionist arguments in historical romance is greater for the last decades or so of this century. This survey begins in the Eighties then extends into the Nineties for the same reasons of continuity that we have explored in previous chapters (e.g. placing Gunsmoke in the Fifties chapter but also discussing there episodes from the Sixties to the Nineties). This then is a survey of romance novels from the last two decades of the Twentieth Century and their uses of revisionist arguments. To gauge both the depth of and constancy of revisionism in this genre, we will survey various novels before turning to a detailed focus in this chapter and the next on a handful of these of novels which exemplify the revisionism we have considered thus far. Some historical romance novels simply use the terms of captivity in the broader metaphorical senses common in most historical romances--with no reference to captivity by Native Americans. Titles range from Victoria Holts The Captive (1989) with its portrait of Rosetta Cranleigh locked in a Turkish harem to Anita Gordons The Captive Heart (1995) set in Medieval Normandy. Not all historical romance novels offer extensive, or even actual, revisionist captivity images, as the following survey reveals. Jane Archers Captive Desire (1989) echoes earlier uses of captivity like those of Grey as Victoria and Cord discover romance while freeing his sister held captive by his former gang. Carol Smith Saxes Captured Moments (1993) refers to the capturing of photographic images, but otherwise does not explore captivity. In Joann DeLazzaris Scoundrels Captive (1991), Kincaid holds Jessica captive in a cabin. Christine Dorseys Sea Fires has Miranda Chadwick kidnapped by a pirate Gentleman Jack Blackstone.

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344 Victoria Holts The Captive (1989) has Rosetta captured by pirates. In Blaine Andersons Loves Sweet Captive (1989), Braetana is captured by pirates. Other titles nominally using captivity for standard plot lines include: Patricia Phillips Royal Captive (1977); Elaine Crawfords Captive Angel (1992); French, Emily Frenchs Capture (1994); Victoria Lynnes Captured (1995); Joan Johnsons Captive (1996) all invoke captivity, but not by Native captors. Other romances capitalize on apparent captivities, as in Christine Dorseys My Savage Heart (1994) featuring a cover reminiscent of The Last of the Mohicans (Daniel Day Lewis running toward the viewer, in a flowing homespun shirt with rifle and belt) movie poster, but does not otherwise engage captivity. Similarly, Penelope Neris Silver Rose (1988) capitalizes on current interests in such revisionary captivity narratives through its cover illustrations of Silver dressed as white Indian, though its captivity is metaphorical. Novels like Dorseys and Neris invoke captivity conventions from both the standard romance and reductive captivity narrative traditions. However, many historical romance novels use captivity by Native Americans for a variety of positive purposes. Primarily, they use it as a vehicle for uniting the novels protagonists, a traditional romance vehicle. Specifically, these historical romance novels use captivity as the means whereby the Anglo heroine enters a Native world to discover love, usually as the result of her having been rescued from her captors by a Native male who then precipitates her love and assimilation into the tribe. Examples include: Constance OBanyons Savage Desire (1982), Janelle Taylors Savage Conquest ( 1985), Madeline Bakers Love in the Wind (1990), Kathleen Drymons Gentle Savage (1990), Catherine Harts S ilken Savage (1990), Kathryn Hocketts Sweet, Savage Surrender

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345 (1990), Madeline Bakers A Whisper in the Wind and Prairie Heat (1991), Cassie Edwards Savage Dance (1991), Constance Bennetts Moonsong (1992), Joanne Redds Dance With Fire (1992), Colleen Faulkners Savage Surrender (1992), Gentle Warrior (1992), Lori Copelands Promise Me Tomorrow (1993), Genell Dellins Comanche Wind (1993), Deborah James Warriors Touch (1994), Theresa Michaels Apache Fire (1995), Cassie Edwards Savage Dance (1996), Gideons Loving Samantha (1996), and Rolling Thunder (1996) reverse the conventional patterns to have Native women free white captives so that they might find romantic happiness together. In Savage Illusion (1993) Cassie Edwards complicates this plot by having her protagonist, Jolena, a Blackfoot who was raised by whites, find out her true heritage . her true people (69). Captivity provides he means for her realizing her true self. As these surveys reveal, combinations of captivity in historical romance novels occur frequently. But many romance novels also rearticulate such conventions by using captivity to promote positive images of Native identity and to argue for revising prior definitions of captivity as necessarily expressions of violence. They do so in two main ways. First, they reveal positive and often factual information about Native peoples, itself part of a revisionist impulse defining almost all of the works featured in this study. Second, they often intentionally complicate the conventional, negative rhetoric of captivity to explicitly argue for revision at several levels. However, most novels using the larger convention rely on captivity to distinguish one of their protagonists. Captivity defines them with certain unique qualities that allow them to successfully negotiate both worlds, a variation on the frontiersman mythos so thoroughly explored elsewhere. Some examples include: Janelle Taylors Sweet Savage

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346 Heart (1986), Madeline Bakers First Love, Wild Love (1989), Johanna Lindseys Savage Thunder (1989), Madeline Bakers Comanche Flame (1992), Teresa Howards Cherokee Embrace (1992), Catherine Andersons Cheyenne Amber (1992), Georgia Gentrys HalfBreeds Bride (1993), Karen Bales Loves Bright Star (1994), Catherine Comptons The Lady and the Outlaw (1994), Shannon Drakes Branded Hearts (1994), and Madeline Bakers Chase the Wind (1996). Common to all of these novels are positive endorsements of native peoples and their life ways. Several of these novels have the protagonists realize their romantic fulfillment through an alternative world separate from white patriarchy and prejudice and tribal affiliation, an aspect of romance novels that McCafferty and Castigilia have admirably explored. Captivity only nominally enters these novels, usually as a defining character trait for the (usually) male protagonists that precipitates his distance from the majority of white society and thereby the catalyst for his attraction to and for the female protagonist. For example, Rosanne Bittners Unforgettable (1993) and Tame the Wild Wind (1996), and Genell Dellins Red Sky Warrior (1996) profile two people who create their own alternative to the differing worlds each represents. Madeline Baker explores this alternative through time travel in The Spirit Path (1993). In contrast to these uses of captivity, Lindsey McKennas Brave Heart (1993) features a white woman who confronts abuse and prejudice toward Native peoples and thereby gains admittance to the Lakota world where she finds true love. Other novels complicate traditional definitions of captivity to effect revisionist ends. Captivity becomes rescue for Crimson, a former captive, when she rescues Joseph, her Native lover, from his Army captors in Paula Fairmans The Tender and the Savage

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347 (1980). In Cheyenne Star (1984), Susannah Leigh explores the effects of redemption for captives through Kristyns torment over leaving her adoptive Cheyenne world and husband for the world and life of her redeemer. Janelle Taylors Sweet Savage Heart (1986) and Cassie Edwards When Passion Calls (1990) similarly complicate the standard revisionist captivity narrative by exploring the effects of redeemed captives negotiating white worlds. Consistent with each of these is the theme that the former captive (who is white) can and does only find true love with another white person, thereby echoing the same sorts of misceginational fears apparent in other decades, like the Twenties with movies like Daughter of the Sioux and The Red Rider (1925) and Brands series. Moreover, these novels differ from works by Johnson or Hasseloff because of their emphasis on fairly standard romantic plot themes and resolutions. In addition to offering textual situations and explanations that detail Native customs or issues relevant to Native peoples, some historical romance novels offer extensive, formal end notes to contextualize the novel and offer further validity both to that story and to the authors agenda in representing them. For example, Janelle Taylors (1991) offers an extended explanatory note detailing both the sources of historical accuracy and her intention to represent that accuracy for revisionist purposes. In Savage Illusions (1993) Edwards continues her endeavor to write about every major Indian tribe in America (438). This explanatory endnote distinguishes each of her novels, again legitimating both her novel and herself as author of that novel (a strategy pursued by other authors dealing with captivity, like Thom). In the main text of S avage Illusions Edwards also explains the preparation of buffalo and its centrality to the Blackfoot economy. In her endnote, she explains further about Blackfoot culture and Forever Ecstasy

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348 how her forthcoming novels will profile a new tribal people. Other authors specifically match custom with captivity, like Susan Johnson in Blaze (1992) when she incorporates a series of footnotes detailing Absarokee customs of wife-stealing as a means of contextualizing the struggle between Hazard and Spirit Wolf for Blaze. Works like Madeline Bakers Lakota Renegade (1995) include numerous Lakota phrases along with its cultural notes. Other authors include historical aspects, as does Georgia Gentrys Song of the Warrior (1995) when it features the devastation of the 1877 Nez Perce War and then amends this textual exploration with an historical endnote, decrying past depredations on the Nez Perce people (423-30). Gentry add similar notes to the ends of her other books in this series. Historical romance novels of the Eighties provide both conventional and revisionary images of captivity, often playing one off against the other before finally revealing the novels revisionist endorsement. For example, Parris Bonds The Flash and the Firefly (1979) offers standard romantic plots of Anne rescued from her Comanche captors by Brant, with whom she finds true love. That same year Lou Cameron offers The Wilderness Seekers (1979) with its exploration of Two-Hearts, a white Shawnee captive, who chooses Joe Floyd over Wo-Kan, again with the attendant messages about racial continuity. In a more traditional use of captivity for romance authors, famed author Fern Michaels offers Captive Passions (1977), with its standard plot line of two star-crossed lovers who realize true love after a series of stormy encounters. Captivity, as the title implies, is nominal and conventional as the two characters seek love on the high seas, not among Native peoples. However, as we shall soon see, Michaels also offers revisionary images of captivity in her body of works.

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349 Before she does so, she exhausts the conventional uses of captivity, particularly that of romantic captivity by pirates. For example, in Captive Innocence (1981), she has Royall flee the Puritanical prison of her future marriage for an adventure in Brazil, finding love from the buccaneer Sebastian, who introduces her to sexual and romantic passions. Despite all of this, Royall never loses her captive innocence (377). Similar circumstances define captivity in Captive Secrets (1991). She uses captivity very precisely in Captive Splendors (1980) to emphasize the humanity of Wrens rescuers. Initially, Caleb believes that Wren has been captured, but soon learns that his old friend Sassacus, a Pequot chief, has helped her. Into this situation, Michaels pointedly adds scenes that emphasize the colonial depredations of Dutch interests in the New World. Though minor to the larger plot, Michaels use of captivity here underscores her revisionist agenda. This novel represents her initial exploration of captivity outside of convention. However, it is not her last. She next offers her Wild Honey (1982), in which she radically revises images of captivity and Native American peoples. Her focus is on the Seminole Wars, and the intersecting agendas of race and sovereignty manifest in characters like MacAllister, Osceola, and Savannah James/Chala (Wild Honey). In doing so, Michaels invokes many of the categories we explored in the introduction. Her multiple uses also inform many of the other historical romance authors who revise conventional images of captivity. Fern Michaels Wild Honey 1982 In this novel, Michaels represents the complex intersections of identity and captivity possible during the Seminole Wars in Florida. She begins by having the two male protagonists, Sloan MacAllister and Osceola, grow up together, before Osceola returns to his people to pursue his destiny, leaving his mother in Sloans care. She also

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350 introduces the novels namesake, Savannah James/Chala (Seminole for Wild Honey), whose parents were murdered by Creeks, and her racist uncle, Brevet Major General Thomas Jessup, commander of U.S. forces in Florida. Michaels then begins the major revisions of her novel by having Sloan captured by a band of Seminole warriors led by Mico. Brought to the village, Sloan anticipates a conventional end to his captivityhorrible torture and death (59-60). However, Osceola arrives and rescues his old friend, who agrees to join them in their war against removal. Into this surface plot, Michaels introduces the complicated issues of slavery and captivity, both as manifest in Black Seminoles and red captives/slaves. Her position is explicitly revisionist. She targets reductive categories at almost every turn. For example, she has Osceola explain Seminole disgust for Creeks by recontextualizing the Seminole Wars as retaliation by the U.S. government for their alternative social relations with African Americans (e.g. 72, 89). Because the Creeks ally themselves with the U.S., the Seminoles despise them; when the Creeks keep any blacks and Seminoles they capture, they earn further condemnation from the Seminoles (e.g. 121, 303). Through such means, Michaels recontextualizes the Seminole War as a conflict about identity. Michaels next complicates the issues of captivity and identity by introducing Chala. In detailing her arrival with the Seminoles, Osceola describes his people as soft for the little ones. Would it were so with the whites. Perhaps there would be an end to war. Sloan replies All whites dont crave war. All whites are not alike just as all Indians are not alike (81). Such explicit equations define Michaels position on identity and indict the reductive rhetoric of conventional formulations of identity.

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351 As do other historical romance authors, Michaels invokes conventional romantic uses of captivity. For example, during Sloans plans to take Chala to New Orleans to train her as a spy Michaels offers this metaphoric use of captivity: In one swift moment he reached out his arm, intending to capture her and bring her to heel (133). She also has Sloan vow to tame her: That little hellcat will soon be obeying my every command. Shell know who is the master! (81-82). Situations develop that fulfill this standard romantic plot line, but Michaels never abandons her original revisionist arguments. Instead, she constantly reveals Jessups insane hatred and duplicity toward Native peoples and the atrocities those qualities precipitate. Through her combinations of romantic convention, captivity and history lessons, Michaels creates a telling commentary on the effects of reductive rhetoric on people. In Wild Honey she maintains a relentless argument for the positive effects of revising such rhetoric, an argument echoed by other romance authors over the next decade. Janelle Taylors Gray Eagle Series, 1981-1985 Janelle Taylors Gray Eagle series presents certain challenges to those who would claim her as a revisionist. In large part, this difficulty comes from her reliance on conventional gender roles found in many historical romances: dominant male, submissive female, who achieve some sort of equality through their relationship, but not before patriarchal order emerges as the defining force in that relationship. On this point alone, she differs from most revisionists who challenge patriarchy and racism through their works. However, Taylor also uses the coding strategy that many revisionist uses: juxtaposing conventional and revisionist elements to reveal the excesses of the conventional positions. In this regard she qualifies as a revisionist. Since she doe snot

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352 ally herself openly with either camp, we could claim that her position enacts the same sorts of graphematic gestures that she makes in her novels. Her individual novels demonstrate these characteristics. For example, Savage Ecstasy (1982) offers a seemingly endless series of captivities and rescues, during which time Taylor protracts Alishas suffering as Gray Eagles captive, most often reducing her to chattel in a larger power play. However, Taylor also interjects specific instances that reverse that power relation, as when she has Alisha rescue Gray Eagle from his white captors. However, she then has Grey Eagle capture Alisha and take her to his Lakota homeland, where they will, over the course of the series, discover their true love for each other. In contrast, Defiant Ecstasy (1982) emphasizes captivity-as-commerce, particularly the traffic in women, through the complications arising from Alishas akito tattoo. As Grey Eagle and Mato Waditaka battle over her possession, the Cheyenne (Mahpiya Sapa) and Lakota battle over her identity as well. Into this struggle, Taylor interjects assertions that prove Grey Eagles concern for Alisha derive from his love for her, and not simply her possession as a kaskapi as when she argues that the reason Grey Eagle rescues Alisha form the soldiers who had recapture[d] the white girl is because had stolen the heart of the fiercest savage in the West! (11). To further prove this romantic angle, Taylor introduces Powchutu, the half-breed translator who loves Alisha and wants to make Gray Eagle look badly so she will go away with him instead. He insinuates that Gary Eagle is the stereotypical savage captor to Alisha to create a rift between them. In doing so, Taylor introduces a constellation of

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353 revisionist issues, all of which complicate any reductive labels placed on Grey Eagle or the novel: It had never been rumored that Gray Eagle took white female captives before. I know. Every day I have come to see more and more how they view ex-captives. I think perhaps the womens treatment of me is the worse, for they should understand what it would be like to change places with me. They should know that a woman cannot refuse the strength of a man. Why do they believe that they would have had the strength and courage, even the honor, to resist it all, at any cost to their sanity and lives? Do they fear facing the knowledge of what they might do if they were placed in that same situation? You are a constant reminder of their possible captivity, Powchutu assured her, of what could just as easily happen to them. They rebel against the truth that they would not resist their captors. They have seen the results of torture. They know inside that they would not rebel against any order. Your condition when you arrived here told them that you had resisted, and yet lived. Their own cowardice and envy blind them to understanding and sympathy. (41) Later, Taylor has Alisha plot her escape in terms that explicitly use negative constructions of captivity and Native identity to deflect attention from her. In doing so, Taylor also emphasizes the: I will not make the same mistakes with my people as I did before. Now that I know of their feelings about ex-captives, I will find some story to tell them about my family being killed and my being the lone survivor. Or, I can say we were taken prisoner, but I luckily escaped before I was ravished. That should satisfy their curiosity and hate. If all else fails, I will latch onto some available young fellow to help me . . (373-74) However, she does not have the chance to do so, as Gray Eagle reclaims her and takes her to be his bride. But Taylor also incorporates captivity in ways that are more consistent with traditional romance usages, as when she has the couple return to Grey Eagles camp: She softly laughed at the girl in the water wondering what Gray Eagle would say if he knew he had not captured her today, but in truth rescued her (86). Later she has Grey Eagles father describe her as the winyan who has captured your heart and clipped the

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354 great eagles wings (380). Such combinations, here and above, indicate the range of Taylors ability to rearticulate captivity and identity as manifest in her other novels in this series. Western Historical Novels Unlike Don Wrights The Captives (1987), many Western historical novels at this time avoid entirely the clichs of standard captivity plots to offer captivity as part of a larger representation of Native peoples and cultures. Some of these include captivity, but only as a minor element in their revisionist representations. In a similar vein, Lucia St. Clair Robsons Walk in My Soul (1985) offers a balanced account of early nineteenth-century Cherokee life, particularly as manifest in the liminal worlds of border peoples like Tianas family. She uses captivity early on when Tiana and her sisters pretend to be Nancy Ward, the Beloved Woman of the Cherokee, and spin out all the aspects of her captivity and her involvement with other captives (e.g. 8-9). Robson also includes examples of traditional Cherokee captivity, as in the story of Stonecoat whose captivity produces the rich Cherokee tribal heritage (18-19). In this way Robson defines the Cherokee people as having a complex tradition of captivity narratives. Other novels are more metaphoric in their use of captivity than these, as in The Rivers Daughter (1993). There, Velma Munn redefines Dark Waters time as a hostage as captivity, another act of violence precipitated by the lack of mutuality and communication she and Barr seek to establish between their two peoples. Two other novels that feature Native American women as protagonists and downplay captivity are E. P. Roeschs Ashana (1990) and Kate Camerons Orenda: A Novel of the Iroquois (1991). In contrast, G. Clifton Wislers Spirit Warrior (1984) avoids captivity altogether.

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355 Yet another group of Western historical novels focuses almost entirely on captivity as part of its revisionist agenda. In doing so, these novels explore multiple aspects of captivity in order to revise captivity conventions and represent Native peoples and cultures as valid. One of these is James Alexander Thoms Follow the River (1981) which explores the full range of responses to captivity as it chronicles Mary Ingles captivity narrative. Thom, whose other works also focus on early American historical figures, presents a balanced portrait of the men and women in Kentucky at this time. Native and Anglo characters display the fullest possible relations to captivity, thereby refuting stereotypes. In part, Thoms agenda in so representing his characters is to compare the relative humanity of both sides in this bloody war--to contextualize the individual circumstance he represents as well as the larger issue of captivity (as he explains in his explicit Afterword.). Captivity reflects the individual circumstances of captors and captives, and is not a stock possibility for either side. In other words, by so representing and focusing on captivity as he does, Thom uses captivity to validate human universals. He also expressly refutes the stereotypical image of female captives as incapable of rescuing themselves, even at the risk of losing their newly born babies in the process. In this way, Thom actively counters reductive representations of captivity and Native peoples at several levels. Western historical novels from this decade also continue to offer a full range of captivity images. For example, Leigh Franklin James Wings of the Hawk (1981), second in his Saga of the Southwest series, offers conventional images of captivity and rescue, as when Bess Callender is captured by Comanches and destined for the Comancheros, only to be rescued by John Cooper. Will C. Knotts Golden Hawk (1986)

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356 inaugurates a series in which its white protagonist rises to prominence among his Comanche captors, then uses that superiority to rescue his sister Annabelle, who had also been captive, from the Comancheros and subsequent traffickers that own her. Other western historical novels use captivity to indict the racism inherent in conventional captivity rhetoric. In Fair Land, Fair Land (1982), his final installment to the series begun with The Big Sky (1947), A. B. Guthrie has Dick and Higgins contrive Stimsons situation to resemble conventional captivities: first he enlists Teal Eye and Little Wing to act like frenzied women captors bent on Stimsons torture (208-13). They contrive this captivity to maximize Stimsons pain as recompense for his trying to shake them down. Other than this exaggerated instance of captivity, Guthrie avoids any real focus on the issues of captivity and Native identity. In contrast, Pat Winters River of Destiny (1984) not only features a central Native character but many aspects of revisionist captivity in the bargain. For example, its protagonist Weeononka, a Quapaw medicine woman and leader, is captured by Native captors, and then sold as a slave, where she meets Frenchman de Tonti, LaSalles second in command and also captive, with whom she finds true love. By so casting this story, Winter has advanced issues of red-on-red captivity and expanded the possibilities of romantic captivity narratives beyond standard plot lines. In the process she informs readers about several Native cultures during the Seventeenth century. Other works reveal various aspects of revisionism. For example, in Song of the Cheyenne (1987), Jory Sherman draws on Native captivity traditions when he has Sun Runner remember his captivity among the Crow, who made [him] a slave. Sun Runner escapes with the help of an Absaroka woman, Blue Shell, who is killed in the

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357 attempt, and the Bear-Who-Helped-Him, who helps him escape and becomes his spirit animal (79-91). Expanding on revisionist impulses, Loren Eslemans short story Magos Bride (1989) features Mago, a half-Yaqui bandit chief, who has a proclivity for capturing women to become his bride until he captures Cervata, who outwits him and escapes with one of his men. The title indicates the irony of reductive categories by proclaiming Cervatas ability to forestall Magos drive towards captivity. Brian Moores Black Robe ,1985 and 1991 Such is not the case in Brian Moores novel Black Robe (1985). There, he dramatizes the competing perspectives of Native and Franco American perspectives in Seventeenth Century Canada. Moores constant emphasis on this competition, and ultimate validation of both systems as flawed, argues for a human universalism which cannot be solved through appeals to epistemological priorities (as the scene dramatizes the competing systems illustrates, 86-87). This argument appears most explicitly when Moore has the party captured by Iroquois (129-48). There, he elaborates the excruciating horrors of the tortures inflicted by their captors on Lafourgue, Daniel, Annaka, Comina and Outiji. In the middle of this scene, Moore interjects a telling commentary on captivity and humanity. When Annaka declares their captors are wolves, not men, her father, Comina, argues that they are men whose fear of revealing their own vulnerability to each other precipitates their excessive cruelty to captives: Our people do the same if they capture enemies. So do the Montagnais and the Huron. An enemy must be made to cry out in pain. That is why they torture us. But, alone, the Iroquois is like you or me (139). Ultimately the captives use this truth to their advantage, but Moores assertion of fear of this underlying humanity as the primary motivation for captivity and its excesses informs his entire argument about revising captivity and Native identity.

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358 When the novel becomes a movie in (1991), it retains the basic arguments about perspective. However, it abandons Moores qualification of Iroquois motives for a standard negative characterization of their captors as savages. In fact, the movie completely eliminates Cominas speech; instead it has Annaka simply carry out the deception at her fathers signal. The movie also eliminates the final captivity of Lafourgue and Jerome by the people at Ihonatiria, replacing it with a scene and on-screen commentary that underscores the ultimate uselessness of Lafourgues actions as the Hurons succumb to disease and incursions. Since Moore adapts the novel to the screen, we must wonder what motives cause him to abandon such integral parts of his original argument. If we can base our conclusions on prior instances like LeMays The Unforgiven then we can partially explain such omissions as some of the consequences of translating novels to the screen. 1 Richard Wheelers Skye Series, 1987-1994 For similar revisionist purposes, Richard Wheeler uses captivity in his Skye series, he always uses it in ways that inform and question captivity conventions. For example, in Skyes West: Bannack #2 (1987) he problematizes the issues of subjection and subjectivity traditionally determined for white female captives through Floras choice to remain with her captor, Old Bull (189). Elsewhere in the series, Wheeler either avoids captivity, instead targeting Indian Bureau corruption in Skyes West: Wind River 7 (1993). One of his most explicit revisions of captivity occurs in Skyes West: Yellowstone 4 (1990) where he introduces a young Sitting Bull, who has orchestrated Skye and his partys capture, because of Skyes having killed some Hunkpapas years before (140-41). As he does here, the primary focus of much of this series captivity issues is Skye and his family, Mary, Victoria, and his horse, Jawbone (154)a theme

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359 repeated Skyes West # 5: Bitterroot (1991) when he considers their fate at their Pikuni captors hands (92-93). Elsewhere, as in Skyes West # 3: The Far Tribes (1990), Wheeler unflinchingly portrays the horrors of captivity, as during Kills Dog womans torture (72-74) When other characters denounce such practices as barbaric, Skye replies that the situation is similar to that of slaves in the South (81) and that it is a traditional, cultural practice (91). Skyes West # 5: Bitterroot (1991) also explores political dimensions, but here complicates Skyes responses by placing him under a pacifist injunctive from the Friends party he guides. Childrens Literature Childrens literature from this decade offers a wide range of revisionist issues comparable to those explored by adult forms. They range from the implicit threat of captivity/slavery for Californian tribes in Eleanor Coerrs The Bell Ringer and the Pirates (1983) to extended engagements of captivity conventions, usually found in longer works for older readers. For example, Robin Moore's Maggie Among the Seneca (1987) offers an extremely balanced perspective on Native peoples and life ways through Maggie's captivity. Juvenile audiences will appreciate the complexity and subtlety of Moore's handling of Redwing/Maggie's marriage to Firefly, and its consequential awakening sexuality. They will also realize that captivity is more complex than simple racial differences when Sullivan's army marches on the Seneca town and captures it. Then, a Colonial officer attempts to capture Maggie for the ransom he can get for her, not form any humanitarian or heroic motives. His hatred of her child, Hoot Owl, further defines his motives as purely economic and self-serving, especially coupled with Maggie's explicit claim that she wants to go with her family, the Seneca (85-88). From this scene

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360 alone, audiences realize that captivity is a complex experience in which issues of race and identity arise and resolve along differing lines. But Moore insists on making her revisionist arguments about captivity and Native peoples explicit, and does so in her Afterword (101-04) where she elaborates both on "the adoption system that acted in the prisoner's behalf" and the legitimacy of Seneca life ways. Overall, Moore represents traditional Seneca life ways and people with accuracy and enthusiasm; captivity, thereby, transforms itself into less an act of violence than of transition and realization for Maggie and Moore's audiences. The very next year, Sollace Hotze offers readers another revisionist novel with her A Circle Unbroken (1988), which represents with sensitivity and insight the struggles of her protagonist Rachel/Kata Wi to reassimilate to her original culture after her recapture. She cannot and will not forget the life she had as a Lakota girl, and constantly fights to prevent the erasure that almost everyone demands of her. Instead, she views her experience as the basis for greater intercultural communication. This last aspect defines the majority of the book (captivity-as-communication), but Hotze also emphasizes captivity-as-complexity as she has her protagonist struggle through the pragmatics of maintaining presence in a world that demands absence. But this same period also sees a curiously negative example occurring from an author who had championed Native peoples previously. Despite other books like Sing Down the Moon and The Captive Scott Odell constantly glazes over the issues of captivity in his recounting of Pocahontas' later life in The Serpent Never Sleeps (1987). For example, regarding Pocahontas' capture by Argall, O'Dell casts Japazaws and his wife as the evil panderers of her capture, but he does not call her captivity one. Instead,

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361 he has Pocahontas curious about the ship and English people, and Serena Lynn the instrument for Pocahontas choosing to go on board the Treasurer In this way, the whole issue of captivity evaporates, as Pocahontas and Serena sail back to Jamestown, with Pocahontas happily confiding things to Serena, like her sacred name. Curiously, O'Dell has Argall call Pocahontas a captive prior to his taking her. In this instance, he characterizes her as a captive as part of his rhetoric to belittle Powhatan political structures: "What has a gaggle of old men to do with the proud daughter of the mighty Powhatan?" he sputtered. "Is she a captive, a slave, a helpless toy, not allowed to make up her own mind, treated in such a humiliating fashion?" (145). Argalls conflation here equates captivity with powerlessness, and casts the Powhatan elders as captors holding Pocahontas, and thereby casting himself as her rescuer (further, "returning" her to her "rightful" people). A most curious incident indeed from an author who had so consistently portrayed Native peoples as persons and captivity-as-complexity, but perhaps best conveyed in the novel's subtitle and its priority of place over person: The Serpent Never Sleeps: A Novel of Jamestown and Pocahontas We can also see how O'Dell borrows directly from Smith's discourse about Powhatans when he has Serena meet Chief Powhatan ("a despot") and witness Powhatan dancers ("Shouting invocations in hellish voices") (107, 110), so such a dismissal of captivity seems more consistent with his agenda in this novel than in Sing Down the Moon (1970). Such apparent changes in perspective also gain credence when we remember that ODell has just finished his Mesoamerican trilogy ( The Captive 1979, The Amethyst Ring 1983, and The Feathered Serpent 1984) with its own ambiguities toward captivity.

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362 Comics With the continued success of graphic novels and action comics, captivity in comics seems to have dwindled from its apex in the Seventies with Jacksons opus. Strips like Ryans Tumbleweeds and Besss Redeye continue to offer revisionist images on a daily basis. But most comics versions of captivity have virtually disappeared by the Eighties. One notable exception is William Messner-Loebs his graphic novel Tall Tales (1988), the first installment of his famous Journey series. It explicitly revises captivity conventions much along the lines that Crumbs Whiteman Meets Bigfoot had done, but Messner-Loebs adds additional elements that make their rearticulation of captivity into more than a singular event. Tall Tales Chapter Four, Woodschildren, offers an extended and complicated commentary on captivity. It interweaves the frontier humor tradition of tall tales with a tribe of Bigfeet and captivity to produce a complex recontextualization of captivity traditions. This chapter recalls Crumbs revision of captivity with Bigfoot, but here Messner-Loebs offers a far more complex reformulation. For example, Messner-Loebs constructs this chapter so that several layers of captivity exist simultaneously before combining at the chapters end. First, he has Wolverine MacAlistaire, the series protagonist, captured by Hurons for the purpose of rescuing the chiefs daughter from her captors, a tribe of Bigfeet. The chief has chosen MacAlistaire because they consider him uniquely qualified to rescue his daughter: he is a ghost, so can interact with supernatural beings more effectively than the previous tribal members who have attempted to rescue Riverwind and failed. They add to MacAlistaires motivation by explaining that he, and another captive, will not suffer the cruel torture they plan for them if he refuses.

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363 At this point, Messner-Loebs has revised captivity so that it becomes a form of hostage-taking for pragmatic purposes--a conditional state negotiable through contract. He then further modifies this definition of captivity by having Bigfeet take Native women captive, as we and MacAlistaire learn when they encounter the Bigfeet, who have taken them captive in the process. MacAlistaire faces another ritualized bout of violence with the Bigfoot champion Whitetooth, until he realizes that he cannot possibly defeat him. At this point MacAlistaire negotiates with Blackfang to exchange Red Sticks, the pompous Huron accompanying MacAlistaire on the rescue effort. Red Sticks and MacAlistaire have been at odds throughout the story, each differing on the way to handle the rescue. Furthermore, Red Sticks views this rescue as his guarantee of political ascendance, as well as a chance for a momentary fling with Riverwind and a chance to murder MacAlistaire. Factoring all this into the negotiation, MacAlistaire reasons with Blackfang that Native women captives have failed to strengthen the Bigfoot gene pool is that their birth canals are too small, whereas a Native male captive could service as many Bigfoot women as possible. He then trades Red Sticks for his and Riverwinds freedom. Messner-Loebs leaves little doubt that Red Sticks has become a love slave as part of the narratives justice, but in the process he has also revealed that captivity need not simply devolve into the ritualized combat portrayed in so many standard images of captivity; negotiation can resolve what is easily reduced to violence. Moreover, the pragmatics motivating the Bigfoot captors emphasizes Messner-Loebss use of captivity-as-commerce, and his attempts to revise it into captivity-as-complexity.

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364 Native American Literature Current Context As we have already seen, Native American literature is replete with narratives revising captivity and Native identity as defined by conventional rhetoric. Some, like Louis Erdrich's poems in her collection Jacklight (1984), are well known and celebrated for their revisions of captivity. There, poems like "Indian Boarding School: The Runaways" indict the boarding school experience of many Native students as a literal and figurative captivity (11) and "Captivity" explores the effects of captivity on Mary Rowlandson. In this last poem, Erdrich has Rowlandson conclude that her captivity was completely and irreversibly relativizing, as when Rowlandson declares "Rescued, I see no truth in things" (26-27). Captivity becomes a form of continuous complexity, resisting reduction by even those who experienced it. In addition, her poem "Captivity" parallels more contemporary critical explorations of Rowlandson's captivity, such as Zabelle Derounian's argument (1987) that Rowlandson suffered from survivor syndrome after her return. Taken together, these facets illuminate the ways in which Erdrich complicates what has been reduced to a standard, so that readers can avoid those same reductive binaries that have promoted the canon previously--the same sorts of critical (re)contextualizing that these same critics have declared as necessary to avoid the same sorts of pitfalls against which Erdrich cautions us. Given Erdrichs centrality to current Native American literature courses and collections, these poems will continue to argue their revisionist positions to audiences for decades to come. Other revisions of captivity are less well known than Erdrich's, but as dedicated to redefining captivity and its contexts as part of a larger revisionist agenda. For example, Barney Bush offers a more complicated rearticulation of captivity in his poem "Taking a

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365 Captive" (1984). There, he explores the ambiguities of identity realized through captivity. He focuses on a silent subject ("my young captive") whom the narrator encourages to realize his own power as one of the people. The ambiguity occurs when we try to determine who this "young captive" is: another Native person whose alienation from his/her own people requires a radical (re)immersion in his/her traditional culture or an Anglo person who was "born by/ mistake in another world" and another time which self realization in a traditional way will correct. Both possibilities amplify the distance from traditional culture and identity that the "young captive" must cross to realize him/herself. Bush employs a metaphorical captivity as the means to validate such a salvation, defining himself in the process as the captor who will take the captive (regardless of identity) into a captivity that will nurture and heal the wounds the captive has received previously through the consequences of being outside traditional society. Still others offer revisions of captivity that are apparently nominal or metaphorical, but which rearticulate captivity in profound ways once readers realize how and why these works redefine captivity. For example, Louise Erdrich inverts conventional captivity narrative imagery by having Albertine lose her son Buddy to white captors. Allen argues that this tale resembles traditional Northwestern Coastal traditions of Raven capturing women and children and tricking them into eating feces so that they will stay with him (candy bar equals shit in Allens equation) ( Spider Womans Granddaughters, 48-49). Despite the relevance of this analogy, Allens assessment misses the other levels of revisionism Erdrich employs here. Another example which more fully develops its revision of captivity is Janet Campbell Hales The Jailing of Cecelia Capture (1985). Its titular reference to captivity, which we learn is a traditional name shortened from Eagle

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366 Capture to Capture by the demands of the white world away from traditional Yakima culture (52-53), inaugurates this novels multiple levels of revisionism. This redefinition of a family name to emphasize its violence in a general sense over its original specificity of purpose reveals the sorts of reductive redefinition imposed on Native peoples by stereotypical ideologies dominant in white society. Hale also emphasizes how these ideologies conspire to confine and redefine tribal members in ways that produces insanity, as when Cecelia begins to act toward Corey like her mother had reacted toward her (116). There, motherhood has become a form of captivity, rather than a source of identity. Finally, Hale constructs this novel to emphasize Cecelias many different states of captivity (those above and her literal captivity in jail), thereby amplifying the jailing along multiple paths. Although she never explicitly equates Cecelias status with that of captivity, Hale intentionally constructs an extended metaphor that requires readers to revise previous notions of captivity that simply reduce it to an act of violence precipitated upon a captive in conventional imagery. Finally, Paula Gunn Allen offers her collection of various works, Spider Womans Granddaughters (1989). In it she challenges patriarchal constructions of Native womens identities. In the process, she reveals a wide range of revisionist captivity images (e.g. Zitkala-Sas A Warriors Daughter and Silkos Yellow Woman). This books inclusion in college curricula indicates its potential for revising prior conventions. James Welchs Fools Crow 1986 As we saw in the Introduction, James Welchs Fools Crow (1986) offers an intense examination of captivity among his Pikuni [Blackfoot] characters. Primarily he argues for captivity-as-complexity, but he also represents traditional aspects of captivity and its narrative among Native people. His primary emphasis is on captivitys devastating

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367 effects on captives and their survivors. By so focusing his uses of captivity, Welch has rearticulates conventional captivity imagery through his specificity (Pikuni practices) and its universality (the devastation for captives and captors regardless of tribal or racial identity). Finally, his formulation enacts an indictment against the violence in captivity, regardless of its characters identities. Welch introduces at least three aspects of captivity in his novel. First, he offers an extended examination of the effects that captivity has on his main characters, White Mans Dog/Fools Crow, Fast Horse, Yellow Kidney, Heavy Shield Woman and Red Paint. Second, he offers a direct refutation of standard claims about appropriate masculine responses to captivity through Yellow Kidneys captivity narrative and his travails after his return to the Lone Eaters camp. Third, he offers a seemingly understated refutation of standard claims about Native male sexual lust for white flesh through Fast Horses comments on the fate of a captured white woman (which we have seen in the Introduction). In portraying the first aspect, Welch explores the possible impacts of captivity on his Pikuni characters and by extension on other Native peoples. He does so by charting the responses of Yellow Kidneys family (Heavy Shield Woman and Red Paint), White Mans Dog/Fools Crow, and Fast Horse to the possibility that Yellow Kidney may not be dead, but a captive of the Crows (Absaroka) they had raided. Welch first hints at Yellow Kidneys possible fate as a captive when he has Eagle Ribs confront the groups reaction to the thought of Yellow Kidneys death (36). To this specific indication, Welch appends White Mans Dogs anxiety over his dream (which Yellow Kidneys narrative confirms as his own experience in the Crow camp) and Fast Horses refusal to fulfill his

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368 obligations to Cold Maker (which hints that Fast Horses knows of Yellow Kidneys fate, but refuses to act on that knowledge). When White Mans Dog confronts Fast Horse about his refusal, Welch introduces what will serve as the first of two subtextual references to traditional Pikuni images of captivity. Welchs second revisionist instance of captivity (when Yellow Kidney thinks of Seco-mo-mukons tale prior to his own death, 238-41) offers a more subtle intertextual reading; but here he suggests an analogy between Yellow Kidneys captivity and those captivities experienced by Pikuni and other Blackfoot peoples. In doing so, he constructs a parallel that comments on the relative nature of captivity as defined through traditional Pikuni perspectives (much as Silko does in her Yellow Woman tales as well as the numerous narrators recorded in collections of traditional tribal narratives). Here, White Mans Dog offers Fast Horse his opinion that Cold Maker holds Yellow Kidney prisoner until Fast Horse fulfills his vow, so he will help Fast Horse fulfill it by hunting with him (49-50). However, Welch reconstructs readers expectations about captivity through first representing his characters responses to Yellow Kidneys possible fate as a Crow captive. He places his greatest emphasis on Heavy Shield Womans responses, particularly her conviction and actions to return him from his fate. At first she responds in the traditional manner of a Pikuni woman grieving the loss of her husband: refusing food, cropping her hair, slashing her arms and legs with a knife, and painting her with face white ash. Then on the third day of her mourning, announces that she has dreamed that Yellow Kidney can not return unless she participates in the Sun Dance, which he will witness (41-42). In the process of fulfilling this dream, she exhausts herself and becomes

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369 old before her time, though she recognizes it as a necessary rescue for Yellow Kidney (131). By so defining Heavy Shield Womans responses to Yellow Kidneys captivity, Welch has made her integral to his narrative in a way that demonstrates how the effects of captivity extend beyond the captive. In essence, she authors the narrative: without her, Yellow Kidney would lack a means whereby to return. Consequently, we as readers would have a narrative that valorizes captivity as a means of asserting masculinity at the expense of femininity. Her claim proves true for herself as well as the other members of her family and the band itself. In this way she becomes Yellow Kidneys rescuer. Into this milieu of responses to Yellows Kidneys indeterminate fate, Welch then introduces the captives return. The effects this return has on these characters and on Welchs reconstruction of captivity for traditional peoples prove far-reaching. First, Yellow Kidney returns as Heavy Shield Woman had seen him in her dream--covered in skins and rags and so physically altered that the Lone Eaters do not recognize him at first. From this initial shock Welch than breaks to Yellow Kidneys own captivity narrative as he relates it to the gathered members of the All Friends society later that night (72-81). He has Yellow Kidney relate how the horse raiders were searching the Crow camp for buffalo runners when Fast Horse begins taunting them. When the Crows respond, Yellow Kidney hides in a teepee in which he discovers the bodies of several young Crow women, he has sex with one of them, then discovers to his horror that they are dying from small pox and that his sex partner has died during intercourse. Fleeing the teepee, Yellow Kidney is captured by the Crows, who torture him. He narrates how he offers the traditional male response of defiance to his captors: I spit at him and called

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370 him a Crow dog-eater; then I began my death song, for I knew that they would now kill me. And I wanted to die a good quick death, scorning my enemies (77). However, he does not. Bull Shield, the Crow chief, decides to make an object lesson of him and saws off his fingers. Yellow Kidneys responses to Bull Shields torture and his narration of it provide another example of how Welch deconstructs the traditional emphasis on masculine defiance and stoicism in the face of torture: Bull Shield then unsheathed his heavy knife and began to saw my fingers off, one by one. At first I tried to be silent to show that it did not bother me. My hands were numb because of the cold. But then the pain hit the warm parts of me and coursed through my body like lightning. I nearly bit my tongue off. Then I screamed like a real-lion and fainted again. (77) The Crows tie him to a broken-down horse and set him loose as a warning to the Pikunis that similar fates await any raiders they might catch. In doing so, Yellow Kidneys captors have invoked the terms of captivity as rhetoric to prove their own superiority over the Pikunis. By not killing Yellow Kidney and giving him an honorable death, they have invoked the horror of captivity as a means for preventing further hostility through fear. However, by breaking the narrative conventions of captivity they have also allowed the terms to dismember themselves in a similar manner: when the Pikunis mount a counter raid that kills Bull Shield and many of the Crow villagers. From here, Yellow Kidney endures an agonizing period of wandering, until he discovers a band of Spotted Horse People (Cheyenne), where a medicine woman cures him of his torture and the small pox he contracted from the dying Crow girl. From here, he returns to his people and extends the cycle of questioning to them that he had begun while wandering on the plains. To do so, Welch has Yellow Kidney literally and figuratively return into the narrative of his death/captivity, and thereby disrupt the terms and expectations of captivity. He continues this revisionist process by having Yellow Kidney narrate his

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371 captivity, thereby revealing the ways in which his responses counter expectations of captives under torture. Moreover, Welch has Yellow Kidney interpret his captivity and torture as the consequence of his dishonorable actions with the dying Crow girl: But there in that Crow lodge, in that lodge of death, I had broken one of the simplest decencies by which people live. In fornicating with the dying girl, I had taken her honor, her opportunity to die virtuously. I had taken the path traveled by the meanest of scavengers. And so Old Man, as he created me, took away my life many times and left me like this, worse than dead, to think of my transgression every day, to be reminded every time I attempt the smallest act that men take for granted. (81) Thus, Yellow Kidney suffers personally as a consequence of his own actions. However, members of his family and his village suffer as well, thereby demonstrating the interrelatedness of the individuals actions and the larger social group. By returning him to the Lone Eaters Welch prevents them from constructing Yellow Kidneys death as a noble one, and instead requires them to examine the principles upon which they found their beliefs in masculinity and virtue. As his narrative relates, they cannot define masculinity simply in terms of appropriate responses to aggression. Instead, they must also consider the morality of masculine figures and their actions. In this sense, Yellow Kidneys broken, disfigured body serves as a constant reminder to question the legitimacy of reductive constructions of identity and captivity. Moreover, Welch extends a similar line of introspective questioning to his readers who might have expected Yellow Kidneys defiant death at the hands of his captors or his miraculous escape from them. He requires readers to question their own premises about Native, and non-Native, constructions of captivity. Welch introduces the story of Seco-mo-mukons deceitful claims of captivity immediately prior to Yellow Kidneys death (238-41). This second use of captivity in Fools Crow offers a subtle commentary on Yellow Kidneys captivity. In the story that

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372 Yellow Kidney remembers how Seco-mo-mukon disguises his own neglect of the bands fire bundle by claiming that the Underwater People had captured him and extinguished the coal as punishment for the Medicine Pipe Keepers supposed neglect of proper prayer. The Medicine Pipe Keeper abandons the sacred pipe bundle to Seco-mo-mukon, who eventually dies by lightning for his treachery. Remembering this story, Yellow Kidney experiences an epiphany about his own abilities. He resolves to return to this family and make the best of his situation. He drifts off to sleep dreaming of Seco-mo-mukon and the people who trusted him. Yellow Kidney dies immediately after this. As this and the above examples illustrate, Welch redefines captivity and identity in a variety of ways.

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CHAPTER 10 THE NINETIES She had heard countless stories about women who had been taken captive, who had been tortured and raped by savages. She had listened in horror to lurid tales of women who had killed themselves rather than submit to rape and degradation. Of course, there were almost as many stories of women who had embraced the Indian way of life, who had married their captors, learned their language and customs, and borne their children. Outrageous stories of women who had refused to be rescued, who had gone running back to their Indian men when they were forcibly taken away. --Madeline Baker, Lakota Renegade But Ive seen as bad things and worse done by Americans. And Mexicans. And other Indians. Part of the troubles between white men and red are because of mans natural arrogance. Neither side can see hes jist as bad as the other when the chipsre down. I aint so sure I like the implications of that, Mister Hudson, Lowell said thoughtfully. Maybe thats because I really dont want to accept the truth of it. Life aint so easy out here, boy, if a man has any charitable or decent thoughts at all. Once you start tryin to see Injins in a proper light, things get a mite confused, because then you got to look at yourself jist as hard. Theres many a chil caint do that, Sergeant. Its easier for em to just not see Injins as human beings. --John Legg, The Frontiersman The made-for-TV-movie Stolen Women: Captured Hearts (1997) serves as metaphor for most of this decades works. Its title articulates the distinctions that it so resolutely makes: captivity-as-violence becomes captivity-as-complexity, as Anna (Janine Turner) finds her romantic and spiritual fulfillment with her Lakota soul mate, Toklah (Michael Greyeyes). Revision defines its images of captivity and Native identity. Similar strategies resonate throughout historical romance novels and other genres and 373

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374 media from this decade. Two For Texas (1998) invokes similar modes through Sanas (Irene Bedards) captivity among the Choctaws in what otherwise would be a glorification of nationalism. In both cases, the complexities attaching themselves to these main female characters through their captivities alters standard plot lines. Fiction Historical Romance Novels Nan Ryans Written in the Stars 1992 The inside cover of Nan Ryans Written in the Stars (1992) reads: She freed a Captive Savage and found at last a Worthy Lover over an illustration of the pair embracing and about to kiss. These two elements illustrate much at the heart of revisionist arguments in historical romance novels. Ryans agenda seems much more explicitly revisionist than Taylors. For example, in the opening pages of this novel, she intentionally deploys a sensitive Native male character, Shoshoni Chief Red Fox to counter the reductive image of red captors as savage. Her Native male is heroic and compassionate as he risks his own death to save the life of an infant belonging to the people who are annihilating his. His act declares him as indifferent to color barriers when innocent life is concerned. Correspondingly, when Daughter-of-the-Stars accepts the infant as her own she also enacts a form of unprejudiced compassion that runs counter to most stereotypes. However, by having Starkeeper be the biological product of white parents and the cultural product of red ones, Ryan has also invoked a common explanation for the superiority of her novels male protagonist. From this point, Ryan begins to introduce revisionist elements about captivity, as when she has Starkeeper captured and labeled The Redman of the Rockies as part of a

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375 Wild West show (61). However, Ryan then complicates this revision by having Starkeeper and Diane engage in a protracted series of sexual teasing, with him still behind bars, until one day he escapes. At this point, she introduces conventional rhetoric: With Diane tossed over his shoulder, the Indian hit the ground running and within seconds was fifty yards away from the railroad tracks. After the initial shock, Dianes keen brain began to function with the usual clear, unemotional reasoning. She fully realized she was being captured by a wild, primitive creature and she had to be rescued immediately. (116) When Ryan has Starkeeper grab Diane and throw her over his shoulder before bolting form the moving train carrying the Wild West show to Denver, Ryan distances the compassionate Starkeeper from the savage Indian running away with Diane on his shoulder. Her shift to Dianes usual clear, unemotional reasoning also distances the two characters and Ryans motives from her actions: Dianes usual clear, unemotional reasoning concludes that she was being captured by a wild, primitive creature and she had to be rescued immediately. This wild, primitive creature is the same person who had been trapped and savagely treated by the western troupe, and who had elicited such sympathy and sexual interest from her, yet here he is little better than a wild, primitive creature and an Indian. Throughout the remainder of the novel, Ryan modifies traditional Indian captivity narratives and captivity in romance novels through her subtle deployment of the terms of captivity (e.g. 154, 162, 167, 199, 204, 209, 222, 225, and 252). For example, she describes Starkeeper as Dianes captor while they are eluding their pursuers, but she has problematized that captivity through her contexts (119). Moreover, the frequency with which she shifts back and forth from revisionist to conventional perspectives indicates the fluidity of identity which she promotes through this novel. These dualities

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376 modify Dianes captivity into a both a traditional captivity within the genres dominant modes and one which questions those modes by foregrounding its captors liminal identity. In this way Ryan creates a captivity narrative that is neither simply the tale of a woman captured by a Native warrior, nor the captivity common in romance novels regardless of their subject matter (e.g. Penelope Neris Desert Captive Midnight Captive and Sea Jewe l). Instead, she uses captivity-as-communication to foster greater understanding between the pair and between her readers and Native peoples in general. Ryan ends the novel with the couple happily ever after in Starkeepers mansion, made possible by his secret mineral wealth. In the process, she has had captivity run the entire gamut of possibilities in this novel, only to ultimately resolve its revisionist issues through having both characters embrace their Anglo world. Rather than simply labeling this ending as an unsatisfactory capitulation with formal requisites or dominant ideologies, we should consider it in light of her novels use of captivity and identity. This new sense allows us to appreciate the multiplicity of the novels last lines, when Diana describes Starkeeper (now Benjamin Star, white millionaire) as chained: But he was chained. In chains he could not cast off no matter how forcefully he strained against them. Chains no silver key could magically unlock. Chains that would never rust or weaken with the passing of the years. Chains of love. (422) Karen A. Bales Apaches Desire 1993. In direct contrast to these more romantically conventional uses of captivity, Karen A. Bales engages a vast range of captivity and identity issues in her Apaches Desire (1993). First it introduces Aissa, a former Apache captive who now lives with her lover, Shadow Hawk, and her father on her fathers ranch. Aissas former husband, Ray

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377 Grimes, arranges her capture by Mexican slavers. From here, Bale creates an extremely complex interweaving of revision that engages virtually all aspects of captivity and identity. From this beginning she introduces further possibilities of captivity. For example, she has Ataza, the chief of Shadow Hawk band and Shadow Hawks uncle, articulate Broken Moon and Singing Birds captivity within revisionist terms: For nearly a generation, these slavers had tormented the Apaches. How many of his people had died in the airless, disease-filled mines of Mexico? (45). Bale continues to advance this issue when she has Shadow Hawk and the rescue party search for their relatives: they first go to a mine closer to the Apaches homeland because Ataza had decided to go there first in the hopes that the slavers had wanted to be rid of their Apache captives as soon as possible (95). Bale continues this rearticulation throughout the rest of the novel. As part of this (re)education of her readers, she constantly adds layers of revision that complicate conventional images and simple inversions. For example, she opens Chapter Three with Broken Moons perspective on her and her daughters captivity: Broken Moon sighed, resting her chin on Singing Birds head. So, she was a captive again. Only this time, she knew it would be far worse than when she had been taken captive by a Comanche warrior when she was a young woman. As frightened as she had been at the time, she had quickly adapted to the Comanche ways, and to her surprise, she had found that she had fallen in love with her captor, Black Hawk. She had always missed her people, had always wanted to visit them, but after she had given birth to Shadow Hawk, she knew that Black Hawk would never permit her to take his son from the Comanche camp. Not until her husband had been killed on a raid and Shadow Hawk was fourteen summers old, had they gone to her people. Now, after years of living in freedom, surrounded by love, she knew again the old fear of captivity, of being treated like a slave, of knowing her value was like that of a horse of a mule. When she could not work, she would not be kept alive. (47-48) Her explicit references to intertribal captivity extend conventional boundaries of captivity and identity. She also extends these boundaries by having Aissa and Teroz, her original

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378 captor, develop a friendship after her release, which telling comments on the roles of captive and captor (e.g. 55, 404). Captivity then is more than simple violence; it is a complex series of experience that defy reductive categories. Western Historical Novels For many western historical novelists, captivity is a central theme, as in John Leggs work. For example, in Blackfoot Dawn (1993) Legg uses the same sort of staging explored above, but he also introduces elements which complicate the debates, like Hannahs blood lust against her former captors (228) and Blue Mountains choice to remain with his captors (293-95). Leggs Winter Thunder (1994) follows suit, but reorients the debate by having Chardonnais metaphorically rape his Absaroka captive, Black Blood with a knife (e.g. 158, 322). Mountain Thunder (1994) invokes more conventional images of captivity when Abe Rawlins must rescue his family by himself. Finally, his F ire Along the Big Muddy (1995) and The Frontiersman (1995) switch venues from the mountains to the plains, but not the sorts of revisionist agendas that Legg has used previously (as evidenced by one of this chapters epigraphs). Other novelists also (re)present captivity in revisionist terms, as does Mike Roarkes First Frontier series (1993-1995) which offers complex rearticulations of Iroquois culture and captivity practices as well as providing examples of Anglo captivity of Native people. Notably, Roarke has Jinja react to a scene of captivity antithetically to the conventional frontiersman rescuer ( Shadows on the Longhouse 170-71 and 90). Similarly, in his White Apache series (1993-Present), Jake McMasters divides Clay Taggarts captivity in ways that emphasize the binary determinism of conventional representations. Like Thompson, McMasters constantly stages scenes which dramatize these binaries, all of which privilege Clay, but which also constantly reveal the humanity

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379 of Delgadito and the other Apaches in the series. Echoing earlier works like The Mine with the Iron Door (1923) and Miracle in the Wilderness (1976), Gilbert Morris Lone Wolf (1995) constantly questions the possibility of former captives reassimilating into their original culture until they embrace Christianity. Kate Horsley's Crazy Woman 1992 Kate Horsley's Crazy Woman (1992) argues about the legitimacy of captivity providing white women with an alternative to their current situations. In the process, she also argues for the sovereignty of Native peoples and against the racist agendas that have murdered and determined those peoples' lives for too long. Moreover, it does not simply reify Native life as the preferred choice of sane people, but complicates what margin of freedom Sara gains through her captivity among the Apaches by leaving her adrift in a world of magical realism within white culture, much as Silko does her Yellow Woman story, with the female protagonist empowered but ambiguous about her own identity. Similarly, Horsley has her protagonist less the object of her captors' intense lust as an incidental experience to which they must relate as her details of Kates "captivity reveal: She decides to accompany the three Apache warriors; she is not captured by them (109). This scene in itself explodes the myth of red male desire for white female flesh, as Horsley so explicitly argues. Horsley continues to shatter similar myths throughout her novel as she presents other stereotypical responses and then counters them in her attempt to represent these Native peoples as people. As such, Horsley's novel serves as a metaphor for many of the past decade's explorations of women and captivity produced for popular markets.

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380 Don Coldsmiths The Spanish Bit Series, 1980-Present Don Coldsmiths series on The People ( The Spanish Bit Series) often represents his characters as complex and individual, a strategy directly confronting the reductive rhetoric stereotyping Native peoples under a savage rubric. This is his primary vehicle for revising images of Native peoples, but he does occasionally confront conventional representations of captivity, as he does in Return of the Spanish (1991). There, he uses Strong Bows/Bear Paws captivity by the Pawnees to illustrate the communicative function of captivity: both as a revision of conventional definitions of Native identity and captivity and as a tool used by captives to insure their lives. To accomplish this goal, Coldsmith uses captivity at two major junctures in the novel. First, he reveals the competing political and personal motives determining captivity, primarily through Lone Elks lengthy musings on Strong Bows/Bear Paws fate. He uses this dialogue to illustrate the political and individual complexities involved in captivity, as seen through Lone Elks musings on Strong Bows fate and Strong Bows constant need to create relationships with his captors. Second, he uses captivity to Coldsmith devotes nearly two whole chapters describing Lone Elks thoughts and resolution of Strong Bows impending death. First he has Lone Elk consider that Strong Bow comes from a tribe that while not allies, were not enemies, either (140), so his claims to being only an interpreter were probably true. Next, he considers how Strong Bow had tried to remedy the insult [of not joining the telling] with his own stories. That was good (141). He then considers the legitimacy of each claimants demand for Strong Bows life: Pumpkin Rings, who had lost both a son and her husband in the battle, was demanding the right to publicly torture and kill the prisoner. Her claim was valid, of course, and there was much public sentiment in her favor. This opinion was probably

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381 weighted by a desire to watch the torture. There had been little opportunity for such entertainment for several seasons now (141-42). Laughing Crow, who claims the right to scalp Strong Bow because the Spanish priest he killed was tonsured. In part Crows claim was a joke, given his tricksterish nature, But this time Crow showed no sign that he was ready to abandon the joke. Maybe this time he really expected to harvest the scalp (142). If he refuses Crows claim, the consequential public furor could harm Lone Elks credibility, and diminish his influence as a leader (142). Pretty Sky, who had assumed that the captive was her fathers prisoner, has become attracted to him and potentially wants him for a husband (143). The second major juncture at which Coldsmith uses captivity occurs as Bear Paws plans his escape. His motivation, as Coldsmith constructs it, comes in large part from a vital oral tradition of captivity narratives among the People. These tales stress captives loyalty to their original people, and thereby help construct a desire for captives to return to the People. Even while such thoughts [about Pretty Sky] troubled his rest, he continued to think of escape. It was something that one must think of. From the time they were small, children of the People were taught pride in their heritage. If one is captured, the first thought is of survival. If one must die, let him do so with dignity. But if not, he does what he must to survive, and to return to the People. There were inspiring stories of such courage, in the legends. Children were told of Pale Star, kidnapped as a child and carried far away. She had grown up as a slave, and married twice before she returned to the People, bringing her second husband with her. She was among the most honored of women. Or Horse Seeker what an inspiring tale. His vision-quest took him far away. It had been necessary for him to spend a season among another nation, and to fight to retrieve the sacred Elk-dog medicine of the People, the Spanish bit worn by the First Horse. A child, raised on such stories of pride and loyalty, does not forget. One must escape and return to the tallgrass country of the Sacred Hills. So all his activities, his nebulous plans, revolved around this one goal. He began to plan how he could gather a small amount of food, to be ready to take him at a moments notice. (173)

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382 As Bear Paws considers this tradition, his thoughts are troubled by his desire for Pretty Sky. He is caught between the horns of a dilemma that Coldsmith resolves through a series of circumstances that allows Bear Paws to follow his desire for Pretty Sky while removing the threat posed by competing claims on his life. Finally Coldsmith demonstrates through Bear Paws assimilation into Pawnee life that captivity can lead to stronger communities. This novel forms the basis for subsequent novels like Bride of the Morning Star (1993) and Child of the Dead (1995), which reinforce the communicative principles so central to all his works in this series. Moreover, in many of his other novels (e.g. Man of the Shadows 1983: Song of the Rock 1989; Trail From Taos 1989; Walks in the Sun ,1991) Coldsmith represents captivity in similar terms which reveal his continuing emphasis on captivity-as-communication. David Thompsons Wilderness Series, 1990-Present Similar sorts of revisionist situations occur in David Thompsons Wilderness Series, but most often in conjunction with conventional rhetoric. This juxtaposition informs Thompsons desire to problematize conventional categories. In his thirteenth Wilderness installment, Apache Blood (1992), Thompson offers a complex representation of captivity that often directly confronts the reductive stereotypes fueling similar historical novels. He sets his revisionist stage by having Winona, Zach and Blue Woman taken captive by Apaches. This simple fact sets in motion a train of prejudice and stereotype that he has carefully constructed prior to their capture and which he must directly confront after their rescue. There Nate and Shakespeare debate the cause of Apache torture of captives (12-13) in conventional terms. Once Winona and their son are captured, Thompson has the pair

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383 again debate the cause of Apache captivity practices, this time with an intentional contrast: Shakespeare contextualizing the practice in history and tradition, while Nate imagines the worst (Winona suffering the ultimate indignity, [139]). Thompson continues to have Nate overreact to his familys capture, but with each instance he has Nate come to a greater realization of the complexity of captivity. He even has Winona try to convince Nate of his reductive perspective when he comes to rescue her by contextualizing Apache captivity practices and life ways (144-45). Given the frequency and timing of these staged debates between conventional and revisionist positions on captivity and Native identity, Thompsons revisionist agenda becomes very evident. In Wilderness #22: Trails End (1995), Thompson again stages debates between conventional and revisionist perspectives, this time through Nates rescue of three Absaroka captives from their Lakota captors. Predictably, Thompson also uses this novel as a vehicle to demonstrate Nates superior frontiersmanship, but he does not waver from his larger agenda of supporting revisionist images of captivity and native identity. Judd Coles Cheyenne Series, 1992-1998 Captivity permeates Judd Coles Cheyenne series, most often as part of strict traditional perspectives. Touch the Skys liminality also provides plenty of opportunities to explore identity as a category. Often Cole combines these two foci into one. In Cheyenne #4, Vision Quest (1993), uses captivity to distinguish noble Cheyennes from savage Pawnees, as when one warrior cautions another: You do not want to be captured by lice-eaters. But his warning was unnecessary. Swift Canoe, like all Cheyenne warriors, lived in dread of Pawnee torture. His knife was already in his hand. (143)

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384 He then validates Touch the Skys masculinity in traditional terms by having him resist stoically resist his Pawnee captors tortures (120). Such formulations invoke the conventional image of captivity as a fate worse than death, which he invokes more directly through Honey Eaters captivity (103) by Lagace, a white whiskey runner, needed to capture some redskins and learn as many details as he could (80) When Lagace captures her, she reaches for the knife which all young Cheyenne women wore in case of the threat of capture. They valued chastity so strongly that they would rather kill themselves than face the possibility of defilement by rape (103). Again, Cole defines captivity as a fate worse than death, one which legitimates Touch the Skys vengeance. In this sense, Cole has not really represented Cheyenne captivity tradition as translated Anglo traditions onto Native peoples. Yet Cole also introduces the ideas of red captives and white captors along with traditional Cheyenne perspectives on captivity. But such justification is necessary for his plot line, as we see when Touch The Sky rescues Honey Eater. However, Cole does continue to stress that Honey Eaters period with Lagace is captivity, thereby defining captivity as a crime visited upon Native peoples by Anglo peoples, as the following example illustrates: Now, as she turned her face into a stray shaft of moonlight, Touch the Sky spotted the dark, swollen place over her temple where she had been pistol-whipped during her capture (213). Later, Lagace captures Touch the Sky who reacts in stereotypical masculine way, by defying his captors and their torture--the Indian way as Cole phrases it (138). In this as in his other books, Cole does not radically alter definitions of captivity. Instead, he introduces revised images of captivity (white on red captivity) in conjunction

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385 with more stereotypical images of captivity (Touch the Sky reacting the Indian way to his torture while a captive). By so manipulating the line between radical and moderate revisionism, Cole offers readers who might not otherwise be receptive to radical revision a platform which caters to their agendas, while representing a reformist agenda. Hopefully, such an ambivalent strategy will alter readers perspectives to a more radical level. The one instance in which he does cross this line, and actively promote a revisionist perspective on captivity is in Comancheros #7. There he has Honey Eater actively manipulate her Kiowa and Comanche captors Iron Eyes and Hairy Wolf, joint leaders of the Comancheros, to forestall the rape and murder of other Cheyenne captives as well as her own capitulation as their mutual sex slave. In the process, she allows Touch the Sky to engineer her and the other captives escape, but not before replacing this active female captive with a more traditionally passive one who welcomes Touch the Skys rescue. Admittedly, Cole does introduce the notion of Mexican slave traders and the captivity of Native peoples by these captors, but the characters and situations are minor compared to the promotion of Touch the Skys superiority in rescuing Honey Eater. Finally, Cole subsumes his revisionist impulses to convention. Clifton Wislers The Medicine Trail Series, 1991-1995 Clifton Wislers work resonates with Coldsmiths in basic setting and revisionary focus. In one of his first The Medicine Trail novels, Stone Wolfs Vision (1991), Wisler explores the intricacies of captivity through Stone Wolf and Star Eyes. Stone Wolf had taken her captive earlier, and as the following scene illustrates, had initiated a string of problems not normally considered in captivity narratives. Here, Wisler dramatizes the relativity of captivity through scene like the one where Stone Wolf and Star Eyes

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386 disagree about her status among the Cheyenne/Tsis tsis tsas: she is a captive who refuses to assimilate through selfish motives (12-16). In this novel, Wisler also explores other aspects of captivity, again with the intent of redefining captivity. For example, he has Stone Wolf dream that the People are overrun by Crows, Rees, Pawnees, and Snakes who ravage the camp, massacre the villagers, and take captives. When he awakes he determines that his dream will not happen, so he seeks to renew Mahuts. (46-48). Later, Pawnees attack the camp, kill and old man, and take seven captives (61). Soon after this, Stone Wolf and Marcel Freneau, son of a trader who had been taken captive years before, recall when his father was taken captive and how strange he must have seemedLike a skinned rabbitto a people unaccustomed to white men (77-78). Later, Bear Claw argues that they must strike the Pawnees in their winter camp and exterminate them so they will no longer be a threat to the People: Never again will we have such a chance. Here are all the enemy in one place where we can rub them out. Many horses will fall into our hands, and the captives will fill the lodges emptied by winters hard time (147). Stone Wolf argues against genocide. In the old days, men would be content to strike the enemy with the flat head of their lances. We had enemies then as now, but there was respect among us. Now war is only killing. Men strike each others camps, slaying the innocents. Before, young ones would be taken into our lodges, adopted as our own. Now theres talk of rubbing, out all the Pawnees, even the smallest child. This has never been our way. (155) Wisler again uses another aspect of captivity when he has scouts bring word the Skidi Pawnees were assembled in a great camp, preparing to sacrifice the life of a captive to the Morning Star.

PAGE 399

387 Its a bad thing, Stone Wolf muttered when he heard. Captives should be protected from all harm. Have the Pawnees become like the Snakes, eager to cut apart their prisoners, adding torment to humiliation? Its said the captive is a Snake, White Horn explained. If its true, perhaps they mean to return cruelty with cruelty. Maybe, Stone Wolf said, knowing how among the People the life of a captive was guarded as that of a son. To harm the defenseless was unpardonable. (160-61) Such examples illustrate Wislers use of captivity to define both traditional practice by the People and the historical relativity of such practices. Proof of Wislers general commitment to revisionism comes from his other titles, like the Warriors Road (1994). There Wisler repeatedly dramatizes the genocidal persecution of Native peoples in contrast to the Native peoples traditional and proportional response. To illustrate this difference, he creates elaborate scenes like the following when Burnt Willow Woman, confront Wolfs insensitivity to the plight of white captive children: Burnt Willow Woman cried. This raiding must end. Already women and children have been killed. Wihio women and children, Wolf said icily. Havent you seen the little children dragged about our camp? Some are so thin you can count their bones. Little boys who havent seen five summers. Girls, too. They cry for their dead mothers. Our own lodges shelter mourners, too, Wolf noted. You should take the little ones back, Burnt Willow Woman said, frowning. Its too hard on a white skin to be one with the people. Look how your own cousin, Curly, has suffered. If these children suffer, its their fault for being born white, Wolf growled. Go! Leave this lodge! Burnt Willow Woman shouted. I gave birth to you, but youve become a stranger. Listen to your own words! Is a bear at fault for being born with claws? Should the Wihio shoot us because were not white? Thats what they do, Wolf said, shuddering.

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388 Yes, but they cant be blamed for it. Theyre all crazy. For a Tsis tsis tsas to paint his heart so dark is for him to lose his way. Keep your eyes on the sacred path, Wolf Running. What you young men do now will bring only dark days for all of us. (140-41) With this explicit staging to show how genocide can alter traditional patterns of warfare and captivity into an act of vengeance, Wisler rearticulates captivity by Native peoples as a relative act, responsive to individual and historical change, not simply an act of essential savagery. Television Television by this point in the century has access to virtually every revisionist movie and animation made. These works appear with remarkable frequency, thanks in large part to the consumptive demands of 24-hour cable demands and the promotion by stations like American Movie Classics (AMC) and Turner Movie Classis (TCM) of their historical collections (like showing White Fawns Devotion 1910, as part of AMCs annual film restoration festival ). Moreover, the 1990s witnesses Turner Broadcasting Networks commitment to rebroadcasting Westerns, such as TNTs almost daily presentation of a variety of syndicated shows (like High Chaparral Hondo and How the West Was Won ) and Western movies Other stations also host daily episodes of works with strong revisionist arguments, like TVLands daily airing of Gunsmoke episodes. The consequence of such rebroadcasting is the continual revival of the revisionist arguments these individual episodes make as well as the daily demonstration of a previous commitment to revisionism that is often denied by media and critics. In addition, new series like Hawkeye (1994-1995) offer their own versions of revisionist arguments about captivity and Native identity, primarily by focusing on the threat of French captivitya far cry from Coopers original. Made-for-television movies

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389 also offer their voices to the call for revision. In Brothers of the Frontier (1996), captivity functions as a direct contrast to the savagery and inhumanity of the white society the protagonists flee. In this sense, Brothers of the Frontier is much closer to The Sign of the Beaver (1983, 1997) in its promotion of Native humanity for young audiences (not to mention its promotion of its young stars, like Joey Lawrence). Captivity functions as the primary contrasting element in this general promotion of diversity and tolerance. Childrens Literature Michael Dorris Morning Girl and Jane Yolens Encounter 1992 We have already discussed several childrens works from this decade; now, we will turn to two more exemplary works. The Columbian Qunicentennial precipitated an abundance of revisionist texts. These two exemplify that spirit, particularly in their uses of captivity. In this pointedly anticolonial text, Jane Yolen has an anonymous Taino tribesman recount Christopher Columbus initial landing on San Salvador and subsequent colonization of the Caribbean. Her book echoes the reorientation performed by Michael Dorris in his Morning Girl (1992), also published to coincide with the Columbian Qunicentennial. There, Dorris imagines the Taino world up to Columbus landing through the thoughts and experiences of his title character. He pointedly reveals their humanity, before abruptly silencing them with Columbus entry about first contact in which he proclaims them future slaves, of whom he will capture six for proof. The disjuncture between these two texts symbolizes the differences between the two cultures. Together these two books represent the ways in which childrens texts specifically attack the valorization of colonial expansionism embodied in Columbus and the subsequent celebration surrounding that conquest.

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390 Yolen opens Encounter with the boys nightmarish vision of birds descending on the islanders, which turn into Columbus ships, which Shannons paintings vividly illustrate. No one heeds the boys repeated warnings that the creatures coming from these ships are evil and not human, and should not be welcomed. However, the Tainos ignore his warnings because they believe that as a child he lacks credibility. This lack of respect for childrens perspectives proves crucial to Yolens version of Caribbean colonization. She pointedly reorients this story to reveal a possible Taino perspective as a way of countering the overvaluation of Columbian perspectives, which facilitate colonization then and now in her estimation. Along the way she incorporates incidents recorded in Columbus notebooks, such as the islanders grasping a sword which cuts their hands, which she personalizes by having the narrator perform this act. She expands upon this interrelation in her Authors Note following the story, which also reiterates her purpose in creating an anticolonial text. This is a book with an explicit purpose, revealed within the narratives body as well as in the Authors Note. Yolen relies on captivity to underscore this purpose, and in doing so the Taino youths story becomes a captivity narrative. She intentionally reverses the terms of captivity When no one listens to him about the threat posed by the strangers, the narrator prays to his zemis, a stone totem: If it must be, let something happen to me to show our people what they should know. Soon after this plea, he and five others are taken back to the boat. Yolens text and Shannons illustration for this scene belie the purpose behind this visit to the shipsrepresenting the Tainos captivity. This is the something that the boy has prayed will show [his]people what they should know. This is the

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391 something that Yolen focuses on as part of the larger anticolonial rhetoric informing this book. Yolen has the boy narrator relate the incident in this way: The next day the strangers returned to their great canoes. They took five of our young men and many parrots with them. They took me. I knew then it was a sign from my own zemis, a sign for my people. So I was brave and did not cry out. But I was afraid. After the ships leave the bay, the narrator realizes that he must escape and does swimming to a nearby island. There he tries repeatedly to communicate his warning to others, but they refuse to listen to him because he is a child. Yolen and Shannon then combine their talents to bring home their anticolonial rhetoric with the last page of text and illustration (a rhetoric begun with the cover illustration of Columbus towering over a small Tainio youth whose outstretched hand symbolically wards offs the encircling grasp Columbus ominously extends around him). Yolen has the narrator, now an old man, bemoan the loss of his, and other native, cultures to the colonial expansionism begun by Columbus voyages to the Caribbean. The final line of this soliloquy informs this retelling of Columbus explorations as a cautionary tale for all people against the evils of colonialism and ignoring the wisdom of children: May [my story] be a warning to all the children and all the people in every land. Current Context In this same year, Disney offers its version of Pocahontas (1992). Given its topicality, little can be added here except to note that it uses captivity to emphasize Pocahontas commitment to peace. By having her rescue Smith at the very moment that the impending war is about to break out, the movie completely redefines Smiths captivity as an expression of the forces precipitating this war, not an expression of Powhatans or other native peoples savagery. In doing so, it erases any of the

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392 motivations behind
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UFE0000611/00001

Material Information

Title: Revising captivity narratives
Physical Description: Mixed Material
Language: English
Creator: Smith, William Clay Kinchen ( Dissertant )
Ault, Don ( Thesis advisor )
Publisher: University of Florida
Place of Publication: Gainesville, Fla.
Publication Date: 2002
Copyright Date: 2002

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords: Dissertations, Academic -- English -- UF
English thesis, Ph.D.
Captivity narratives

Notes

Abstract: Revising Captivity Narratives demonstrates the power and potential for revisionist studies to redefine canonical structures. In doing so, it directly confronts those critical and theoretical models determining much of current captivity narrative studies. This study thereby joins with a handful of dedicated revisionist works within the field of captivity narratives studies (e.g. by critics like Christopher Castiglia, Kathryn Zabelle Derounian-Stodola, James Arthur Levernier, and Rafia Zafar) as well as those revisionist critics outside the field (e.g. Maria Alonso, Lata Mani, Meaghan Morris, and Gayatri Spivak). To do so, the study performs an extensive archaeology of the Twentieth Century’s production of captivity narratives—particularly those which have been formally and formerly denied by canonical captivity narrative criticism. It reveals how many of these works emphasize the indeterminacies of ethnicity, gender, and race as part of a larger revisionist agenda used to counter the reductive effects of conventional definitions perpetuating and perpetuated by these categories (e.g. Native peoples are savages). This study also reveals the enormity of the material denied by canonical critics. In doing so, it seeks to promote continued reexamination of canonical structures in captivity narrative criticism as well as encourage the larger climate of awareness to prevent colonialism and racism from continuing in the academy. This study follows the basic pattern of surveying a decade’s production of material in each chapter under generic headings. I also emphasize particular individuals and their works when appropriate. This structure allows these works to speak for themselves, thereby foiling the critical drive toward binarism and instead initiating a dialogue about constructions within the canon. By doing so, I have remained true to the moral dimensions of those critics mentioned above and hopefully maintained the integrity of the works presented.
General Note: Thesis (Ph.D.)--University of Florida, 2002.
General Note: Includes bibliographic references (leaves 398-440).

Record Information

Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
System ID: UFE0000611:00001

Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UFE0000611/00001

Material Information

Title: Revising captivity narratives
Physical Description: Mixed Material
Language: English
Creator: Smith, William Clay Kinchen ( Dissertant )
Ault, Don ( Thesis advisor )
Publisher: University of Florida
Place of Publication: Gainesville, Fla.
Publication Date: 2002
Copyright Date: 2002

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords: Dissertations, Academic -- English -- UF
English thesis, Ph.D.
Captivity narratives

Notes

Abstract: Revising Captivity Narratives demonstrates the power and potential for revisionist studies to redefine canonical structures. In doing so, it directly confronts those critical and theoretical models determining much of current captivity narrative studies. This study thereby joins with a handful of dedicated revisionist works within the field of captivity narratives studies (e.g. by critics like Christopher Castiglia, Kathryn Zabelle Derounian-Stodola, James Arthur Levernier, and Rafia Zafar) as well as those revisionist critics outside the field (e.g. Maria Alonso, Lata Mani, Meaghan Morris, and Gayatri Spivak). To do so, the study performs an extensive archaeology of the Twentieth Century’s production of captivity narratives—particularly those which have been formally and formerly denied by canonical captivity narrative criticism. It reveals how many of these works emphasize the indeterminacies of ethnicity, gender, and race as part of a larger revisionist agenda used to counter the reductive effects of conventional definitions perpetuating and perpetuated by these categories (e.g. Native peoples are savages). This study also reveals the enormity of the material denied by canonical critics. In doing so, it seeks to promote continued reexamination of canonical structures in captivity narrative criticism as well as encourage the larger climate of awareness to prevent colonialism and racism from continuing in the academy. This study follows the basic pattern of surveying a decade’s production of material in each chapter under generic headings. I also emphasize particular individuals and their works when appropriate. This structure allows these works to speak for themselves, thereby foiling the critical drive toward binarism and instead initiating a dialogue about constructions within the canon. By doing so, I have remained true to the moral dimensions of those critics mentioned above and hopefully maintained the integrity of the works presented.
General Note: Thesis (Ph.D.)--University of Florida, 2002.
General Note: Includes bibliographic references (leaves 398-440).

Record Information

Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
System ID: UFE0000611:00001


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REVISING CAPTIVITY NARRATIVES


By

WILLIAM CLAY KINCHEN SMITH


















A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT
OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA


2002




























Copyright 2002

by

William Clay Kinchen Smith




























I would like to dedicate this work to my family, especially my wife Beth and our children
Bonnie, and Jess. Their love has supported me throughout all the hesitations and
frustrations of this dissertation.















ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have been especially blessed during this process. Each time someone helped me

along the way, I came to a fuller realization of the essential good in all people. This work

has been a confirmation of that truth.

I would like to acknowledge everyone who played key roles in this project. First,

and foremost, I would like to acknowledge God for the mercy given me during this

process. As a result, I have made mercy a lesson for my own life.

I would like to acknowledge my committee members' extraordinary efforts on my

behalf. Each of the committee has demonstrated qualities that distinguish them as

individuals and scholars. I have truly been fortunate to work with each of them. I would

like to thank Don Ault for his constant effort on my behalf, both professionally and

personally. He has truly never let me down. To Carl Bredahl I would like to say thank

you for your belief in my abilities to complete this project. His influence has determined

much of its agenda. To John Cech I would also like to say thank you for broadening my

horizons through your work on children's literature and for modeling the gentleman

scholar. Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank Eldon Turner for his patience

and persistence in helping me realize my goal.

Finally, I would also like to thank five people who have proven especially

instrumental in realizing this project. To Kathy Williams, I would like to say thank you

for everything that you have ever done for my family and me. To John Van Hook, I

would like to say thank you for your enthusiasm and expertise. To Helen Martin, I would









like say thank you for your patience and your diligence throughout this entire process.

To Bill Stephenson, I would like to say thank you for your continuing faith in my

abilities. And to Jim Albury, I would like to say thank you for your time and

innumerable talents: your facility and grace are inspiring. I am truly honored to have

known and worked with each of these extraordinary people and will always cherish those

experiences.
















TABLE OF CONTENTS
page

A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S ................................................................................................. iv

ABSTRACT ............... .......................................... xi

CHAPTERS

1 IN TR O D U C TIO N ...................... .... .............. ....................... .............

O rigins and E effects of the C anon ......................................................................... ... 6
Critical Sources ...................................................................... ......... 13
M e th o d o lo g y ..................................................................................................... 1 7
M odes of Representation ............ ........................................................ .............. 19
Captivity-as-Complexity ......................... ................... 19
Captivity-as-Com edy ..................................... ........... ... .... ...... .. 21
Captivity-as-Commodity ......... ..... ....................................... 26
C aptivity-as-C ontext ........................................... .... ........ ........ ............ 28
C aptivity-as-C conspiracy .............. .......................................................... 30
Captivity-as-Contrast .................. ........................ ...... .... .......... .. .......... 32


2 1 9 0 0 1 9 1 9 ...................................................................................................3 5

F ictio n ..................................................... 3 9
Frederic Rem ington ................ .... .. ....... ........ ........ .......... .. 39
Frederic Remington's John Ermine of the Yellowstone, 1902....................... 44
Stewart Edward White's "The Girl Who Got Rattled," 1904............................ 48
Jam es W illard S chu ltz............................ ... ... ........................................... 50
Honored Willsie Morrow's The Heart of the Desert, 1912 ............................. 56
Zane Grey .... ......................................... ......... 59
M ovies........................................... .............. 66
Comics .............................................. .............. 72
C children's Literature .................. ............................................. ............ .. 73
Current Context......................... .......... ............ 73
Ernest Thompson Seton's Two Little Savages, 1903.................................... 73
N ative A m erican L literature ....................................................................... 74
Charles A. Eastman and Elaine Goodale Eastman ........................................ 74
Turtle's W ar Party Traditions ...................................... ........... ..... ......... 76
Geronimo ............................................ 77
Current Context. ........................ .................. .. .......... 78












3 T H E T W E N T IE S ........ .... ............ .............. .............................................. ..80

F ic tio n ........... ... ......... .......... ......... .... ... ........................... 8 1
Stewart Edward White's Daniel Boone: Wilderness Scout, 1921.......................... 81
Hamlin Garland's The Book of the Indian, 1923.............. .... ................ 82
Harold Bell Wright's The Mine with the Iron Door,1923 ................................ 88
Zane Grey's The Vanishing American, 1925............................. ........................ 91
M ax Brand (Frederick Faust) .................................. ............. .................. 95
Max Brand's Thunder Moon series, 1927- 1928. ............................................. 100
Edgar Rice Burrough's The W ar Chief, 1927. ............................................. ...... 105
Oliver La Farge's Laughing Boy, 1929 ........................... ..... ........ ......... 113
Movies ............... ...... ............................... 114
Children's Literature .................. ..................................... .. .......... .. 119
Native American Literature ................. ............................... 120
Zitkala-Sa's American Indian Stories, 1921. ..................................... ........ .. 120
Hum-ishu-ma's Cogewa, 1927. ......................................... 122
Resourceful Captives in Captivity Narrative Traditions..................................... 124

4 THE THIRTIES .................................................. .............. ......... 126

F action ................... ...... ... ..... ..... ...................................... ... ...... 12 7
Edgar Rice Burroughs' Apache Devil, 1933................................................. 127
Max Brand's Red Hawk Series, 1934-35.............................. 128
Zane Grey's The Lost Wagon Train, 1932. ............................... ............. 132
Paul Wellman's Broncho Apache, 1936................................... .............. 134
M o v ie s ................................138............................
Current Context................................. .............. 138
W hoopee!, 1930. ............... ...................................... ........ .. ............ 138
S e ria ls ......................................................................................................... ..... 1 4 0
The Lightning W warrior, 1931. ...... ..... ................................................... 141
Custer's Last Stand, 1936. ........................... ....... ................................... 142
Treachery Rides the Range, 1936. ............. ...... .......................................... 144
Children's Literature .............................................. .. .. ........... ............ 148
Stewart Edward White's The Long Rifle, 1930.......................... .............. 148
Holling C. Holling's The Book of Indians,1935........... ................................ 150
The Three Stooges' Back to the W oods, 1937................................................... 153
C o m ic s ............................................................................... 1 5 4
N active A m erican Literature ............................... ... ................................... 155

5 T H E F O R T IE S .... .. ....... .. .. .. ................................................................ 158

Fiction .............. ............ ...... .. ... .......... .. ......................... 160
Mary Bethell Alfriend's Juan Ortiz: Gentleman of Seville, 1940. .................... 161
Walter D. Edmonds' Drums Along the Mohawk, 1940. ..................................... 163
L.L. Forem an's The Renegade, 1942. ........................................ .............. 165










M movies ...................................................................... 167
N orthw est P passage, 1940 .................................................................................... 167
N orthw est M mounted Police, 1940....................................................................... 168
Ride 'Em Cowboy, 1942. ................... ......... ........... ............ 169
V alley of the Sun, 1942.............................................. ....... ..... .............. 171
C children 's L literature ................... ........ ................................................. .. .. 173
Lois Lenski's Indian Captive, 1942. ............. ................................ ............. 173
C current C ontext................... .............. .................... .. .... .... ..... .. ............ 176
After the War ................................................ 178
A H orse Fly Fleas,1948. ................................ ................................................ 182
The Paleface,1948 ...................... .. .......... .. ...... .................. .................. .. 183
Elliott Arnold's Blood Brother 1947 and Broken Arrow 1950, 1956-1960........ 184
C om ics .............................. .......... ....................... ........... 189
Current C ontext.................. .............. ....... ... ............ 189
F irehair, 1945-1952 .......................................... .......................... ................ .. 19 1
T elev isio n ..................................................... 19 3

6 T H E F IF T IE S ....................................................................................................... 19 4

F ic tio n ......................................................................................... 1 9 5
Dorothy Johnson ....................... .............. ............... 195
Conrad Richter's Light In the Forest, 1953 ............ ...... .............. 204
W ill H enry/Clay Fisher ........................... ... ... ................ .... ........ 208
Alan LeMay's The Searchers, 1953 and 1956 ................................ 212
The Unforgiven, 1957 and 1960. ..................................... 213
W ill Cook ............................................. .. .... .... ............ .. 216
Frederick Manfred's Conquering Horse, 1959. ............................................ 219
M ov ies................................... .............. ...... 22 0
C u rrent C ontext........................................................................................ 22 0
Trooper H ook, 1957 .. ......................... ........ .............................. .............. 226
T television ............................. .................... 228
Current Context.............................. ........... .............. 228
Gunsmoke, 1952-1990. .. ......................................................................... 229
Children's Literature ............... ......... ......... ........ 241
Current Context ........... ....................................... 241
Dee Dunsing's War Chant, 1954. .... .................................... 248
Elizabeth George Speare's. Calico Captive, 1957 .................................... 249
C o m ic s .................................................................................... 2 5 3
Current Context.................................... ........ 253
Straight Arrow, 1950-1956 ............. .... ............ .... .................... .. 255

7 THE SIXTIES ........... .................. .................. 263

Fiction ...................... .. ............... ..... ..... ... ............ 265
Elmer Kelton's Texas Rifles, 1960.. ............................... .......... ... ...... .... 267
Elmore Leonard's Hombre, 1961 and 1967.......................................................... 270
Thomas Berger's Little Big Man, 1964 and 1970. ........................................ 275


viii









T. V. Olsen's The Stalking M oon, 1965, 1969. ................................................... 280
Benjamin Capps's A W oman of the People, 1966 ............................................. 282
T. V. Olsen's Arrow in the Sun 1969 and Soldier Blue 1970............................. 285
M o v ie s ............... ........................................ ..................... 2 8 8
D uel at D iablo, 1966 .............. ........................................................ ............. 289
Hallelujah Trail, 1965. ............................................... .... .............. 290
T television ............................. .................... 292
Current Context. ............................................. ...... ............. 292
The High Chaparral, 1967-1971 .................... ...................... 296
C children 's L iteratu re ................................................................................. .. .. 300
Current Context........... ................ ...................... 300
Robert Cruse's Friends of the Wolf, 1961.................................. .............. 301
Betty Baker's W alk the W orld's Rim, 1965 ................................ .. ................ 302
C o m ic s .................. .................................................................................................... 3 0 2
Current Context......................................................... .............. 302
Tom K. Ryan's Tumbleweeds, 1965-present..................... ... ........... ... 303

8 T H E SE V E N T IE S .......................................................................... .....................306

F action .............. .......... ... ...... .............. ............ ..................... ...... 3 0 7
Gayle Rogers' The Second Kiss, 1972. ........................................ .................... 307
Forrest Carter's Gone to Texas, 1973 and 1976 ............................................ 309
Paul Gallico's Miracle in the Wilderness, 1976................................................. 311
Frederick Manfred's The Manly-Hearted Woman, 1975. ........... .. ........... 313
Clay Fisher's Black Apache, 1976.............................. ................... 314
Ruth Beebe Hill's Hanta Yo, 1979. ............. ................................. ............. 316
M o v ie s ...................................... ..................................... ............... 3 1 9
Television.................................. ........ ....... .......... 321
Little H house on the Prairie, 1974-1983 ...................................... .................... 322
How the West Was Won, 1976-1979.............. ............................. .............. 324
C children 's L iteratu re ................................................................................. .. .. 32 7
Scott O 'D ell ..................... ........ .. .. .............. .... ............ ....... 328
William O. Steele's The Wilderness Tattoo: A Narrative of Juan Ortiz, 1972. .. 330
C o m ic s .................. .................................................................................................... 3 3 1
Current Context............................................................................. 331
Jack Jackson's Com anche M oon, 1979 ..................................... .................... 333
N ative A m erican Literature ..................................................................................... 337
Leslie Marmon Silko's Ceremony, 1977. ................................... .............. 337
Storyteller, 1981 .............. ....... ................................... ................................ 339

9 THE EIGH TIES .............. ... ...................... ......... .. ......................... 341

F action .............. ........ ... .................................. .. ................. 342
Historical Romance Novels..................................................... 342
Fern Michaels' Wild Honey, 1982.......................... ....... .............. 349
Janelle Taylor's Gray Eagle Series, 1981-1985 ...... .... ................................... 351
W western H historical N ovels .............. ............................................ .............. 354










Brian Moore's Black Robe, 1985 and 1991..................................................... 357
Richard Wheeler's Skye Series, 1987-1994. ............................................... .. 358
C children 's L iteratu re ............................................................... .................. .. 3 59
C o m ic s .............................................................................. 3 6 2
N active A m erican Literature .............................. .. .................................... 364
Current Context. ....................................... .. ........ .. ...... .. ............. 364
James W elch's Fool's Crow, 1986. ........... ................................. ............. 366

10 THE NINETIES ............ .... ..................................... .. .... .......... 373

F ictio n ......... ..... .. .................... .. ...................................................... 3 7 4
Historical Rom ance N ovels....................................................... 374
Nan Ryan's W written in the Stars, 1992. ......................................... .............. 374
Karen A. Bale's Apache's Desire, 1993. .................................... .............. 376
W western H historical N ovels ................ ........................................................... 378
Kate Horsley's Crazy W oman, 1992 ................................................. 379
Don Coldsmith's The Spanish Bit Series, 1980-Present................................... 380
David Thompson's Wilderness Series, 1990-Present.................. ................... 382
Judd Cole's Cheyenne Series, 1992-1998............................... .......... 383
Clifton Wisler's The Medicine Trail Series, 1991-1995...................................... 385
Television..................................................................... .......... 388
C children 's L iteratu re ...................................................... .. .. ..... ... .... ........ .. 3 89
Michael Dorris' Morning Girl and Jane Yolen's Encounter, 1992...................... 389
C current C ontext.. ................ ................ .................. ...................... ... ................. 39 1
C om ics ........................................ ...... ... 392
N active A m erican Literature .............................. .. .................................... 393

11 C O N C L U SIO N ........................................................................... .. ........ 395

L IST O F R E FE R E N C E S ........................................................................... ........ .......... 398

B IO G R A PH IC A L SK E T C H ........................................... ...........................................441




















x















ABSTRACT OF DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF
THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE
REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY REVISING
CAPTIVITY NARRATIVES

By

WILLIAM CLAY KINCHEN SMITH

December 2002

Chair: Donald Ault
Department: English

Revising Captivity Narratives demonstrates the power and potential for revisionist

studies to redefine canonical structures. In doing so, it directly confronts those critical

and theoretical models determining much of current captivity narrative studies. This

study thereby joins with a handful of dedicated revisionist works within the field of

captivity narratives studies (e.g. by critics like Christopher Castiglia, Kathryn Zabelle

Derounian-Stodola, James Arthur Levernier, and Rafia Zafar) as well as those

revisionist critics outside the field (e.g. Maria Alonso, Lata Mani, Meaghan Morris, and

Gayatri Spivak).

To do so, the study performs an extensive archaeology of the Twentieth Century's

production of captivity narratives-particularly those which have been formally and

formerly denied by canonical captivity narrative criticism. It reveals how many of these

works emphasize the indeterminacies of ethnicity, gender, and race as part of a larger

revisionist agenda used to counter the reductive effects of conventional definitions

perpetuating and perpetuated by these categories (e.g. Native peoples are savages). This









study also reveals the enormity of the material denied by canonical critics. In doing so, it

seeks to promote continued reexamination of canonical structures in captivity narrative

criticism as well as encourage the larger climate of awareness to prevent colonialism and

racism from continuing in the academy.

This study follows the basic pattern of surveying a decade's production of material

in each chapter under generic headings. I also emphasize particular individuals and their

works when appropriate. This structure allows these works to speak for themselves,

thereby foiling the critical drive toward binarism and instead initiating a dialogue about

constructions within the canon. By doing so, I have remained true to the moral

dimensions of those critics mentioned above and hopefully maintained the integrity of the

works presented.















CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION

One way to counter these stereotypes, we found, was to stress the vastness of the
material and to refer to as many of the thousands of texts as we could. Too many
commentators still focus on a relatively small core of familiar--canonized
narratives, so in this study we have tried to bring unfamiliar texts to light but still
not neglect some of the better know accounts like those of Mary Rowlandson and
John Williams.

--Kathryn Zabelle Derounian-Stodola and
James Arther Levernier, The Indian
Captivity Narrative, 1550-1900

Contemporary criticism continues to assert the "unity" and "conformity" of both
captivity narratives and their subjects, shaping a large body of literature into
predictable patterns that sustain the colonizing and paternalistic stereotypes
endorsed by earlier editors.

--Christopher Castiglia,
Bound and Determined

"... it is between different things that one can think difference. But this difference
may be understood in two ways: as another difference or as access to
nondifference.

--Jacques Derrida,
"The Essay on the Origin of Languages"

For the long haul emancipatory social intervention is not primarily a question of
redressing victimage by the assertion of (class- or gender- or ethnocultural)
identity. It is a question of developing vigilance for systematic appropriations of
the unacknowledged social production of a differential that is one basis of exchange
into the networks of the cultural politics of class- or gender-identification.

In the field of ethnocultural politics, the postcolonial teacher can help to develop
this vigilance rather than continue pathetically to dramatize victimage or assert a
spurious identity. She says "no" to the "moral luck" of the culture of imperialism
while recognizing that she must inhabit it, indeed invest it, to criticize it.

--Gaytari Spivak, Outside in the Teaching
Machine










What do Daffy Duck and Derrida have to do with captivity? The same thing that

Meaghan Morris and Minnie Mouse do. Or Leslie Marmon Silko and Jack Jackson. I

could continue these pairings, but I won't because you get the point. If you don't, or if

you think this is the start of a bad joke, then I hope that you will realize my point by

reading this dissertation. You see, what I am proposing is no joke, but a serious inquiry

into the necessary deconstruction of a canon--the revision of captivity narrative studies

through the inclusion of formally and formerly erased texts.

As do other calls for canonical revision, mine takes as its major premise the need to

end the determinism and exclusivity exercised by that canon. It also argues that this end

results only by beginning a sustained critical dialogue which (re)examines silenced texts

and the theoretical apparatus that has silenced them. In doing so, such revisionists hope

to initiate new critical and theoretical structures that operate from principles of inclusivity

and a continuous awareness of the institutionalization of determinism-as a preventative

to future institutionalized exclusivity. Such principles derive from initial forays by critics

like Gayatri Spivak and Jane Tompkins, but have gained immeasurable volume and

support from an ever-growing body of critics as far-ranging as Lata Mani, Meaghan

Morris, and Maria Alonso. This study allies itself with these principles and people.

In addition to these critical charges, this study derives its principles and purpose

from the very texts it examines. All of them actively seek to engage and correct the

reductive rhetoric of conventional images of Native identity and captivity-that

representational matrix that defines and confines Native peoples as savages and captivity

by such peoples as necessarily an act of violence. Captivity then becomes an expression

of that identity-revealing the essential savagery of the captors and providing










justification of nationalist policies of extermination and diasporas. In doing so, these

conventional images perpetuate and are in turn perpetuated by absolutist constructions of

identity (usually in terms of race and ethnicity) that privilege racist ideologies-which

revisionists also target for correction.

To counter such reductive rhetoric, revisionists emphasize the determinacies of

such colonizing rhetoric: by constantly and consistently underscoring the relativities of

identity and captivity as defined negatively by patriarchal, nationalist ideologies which

rely on stereotypical images of Native American peoples and captivity by such peoples.

In this way, these revisionist agendas work in tandem, explicitly and implicitly, to effect

changes in general (mis)perceptions propagated by such reductive rhetoric. Regardless

of their individual styles, these revisionists seek to unsettle what appear as absolutes so

that further dialogue and rearticulation can result between groups of people polarized by

reductive rhetoric. Most often, works invoking such recontextualization use captivity and

its narrative as the means whereby captives (and audiences) realize the validity of

humanity of captors (and their cultures) and the misrepresentation of identity by

conventional constructions.

To effect such changes, revisionists have used a variety of forms and every type of

media. Herein lies a partial explanation of critical oversight of this material and its

ideologies. The sheer volume of material is overwhelming, as the size of this study

illustrates and I can personally attest. Moreover, access to certain forms and particular

articulations proves difficult: the availability and (sometimes) even existence of these

representations depend upon the vagaries of broadcasters and collectors. Sometimes that

access proves impossible or only referential. For example, I wish I could have seen the










1939 movie Geronimo, the 1955 version of The Vanishing American, or the 1960's

television serial "The Iron Horse"; but they and many other examples remained

inaccessible during my research. However, a huge number of texts were accessible and

thereby provide the basis for this study

Moreover, I hope that the present collection provides a starting point for future

dialogue and further exploration of this material and topic. In this respect, I also mean

this study to function as a repository for this material--to provide a record and a resource

for future investigators who might encounter problems of access. I chose to retain as

much of the relevant detail from individual works as prudent so that others may more

freely judge the impact of this material and the void caused by its denial. Finally, I

organized the material under basic chronological order, with generic and media headings,

so that readers could easily chart their own courses through the texts. These aspects,

then, determine much of the shape and size of the present study.

Another major factor instituting this material's relative and actual anonymity

within the field of captivity narrative studies is the determination exercised by the field's

original formulation. As we shall in detail below, when Philip Carleton and Roy Harvey

Pearce formalize the field of captivity narrative studies a half-century ago, they literally

and figuratively determine much of the field--what would and could be considered when

discussing captivity narratives. The consequence of their formulation is a canonical body

of works which dismisses or denies most of the works I consider in this study,

A final factor promoting this material's neglect lies in the inherent prejudices

against certain materials outside of their perceived and imposed genres. We have made

great strides in the last three decades to include a variety of works and media within the









generalized category "popular culture studies." However, certain prejudices still exist

even within fields like cultural studies and American studies despite the elaborate

arguments otherwise made so persuasively by critics like Chandra Mukerji and Michael

Schudson (1991). To borrow Gerald Graff s term, "educational fundamentalism" is still

more the norm than the exception (A48).

As I indicated, some people reading this dissertation will object to its transgression

of those boundaries (mixing comics, romance novels, children's literature, movies, and

Native American literature). Some of the staunchest critics working with canonical

captivity narratives may even brand this work a heresy. But we must set aside any such

prejudices if we are to examine meaningfully what this material has to say both about

captivity narratives in the Twentieth Century and about the determination of the field of

captivity narrative study by an exclusive canon.

We cannot disparage individual examples of captivity and its narrative because of

certain aesthetic criteria, investing a certain group with "the moral luck" of "authentic

marginality" against which Spivak cautions us pointedly (60, 57) To do so would

perpetuate the very essence of the canonical force I am trying to redefine. Instead, we

must consider everything that uses captivity to revise expectations predicated upon

convention: comics (like Firehair, 1945-1952), cartoons (like Johnny Smith and Poker-

Huntas, 1938),children's literature (like When the Great Canoes Came, 1993), historical

romance (like Madeline Baker's Lakota Renegade, 1995), B- and even C-grade Westerns

(like The Great Sioux Massacre, 1965).1 All are equally valid in this study because all of


1 In this way, I resemble Leslie A. Fiedler's inclusive definition of any media production with
Indians in it as constituting a Western, but I do limit my categories to those productions directly referencing
(usually to refute them) conventional categories of red captors and white captives. Instead, I include
virtually everything that uses captivity to revise conventional images of captivity and Native identity. This









them seek to revise conventional and stereotypical representations of captivity and Native

peoples. Such inclusivisty necessarily counters the exclusivity inherent in the current

canonical structures.

Finally, the very fact that authors, animators, and other artists have continued to

rearticulate captivity and Native identity as part of revisionary agendas over the past

century argues for their inclusion in critical considerations of captivity narratives studies.

The existence of this enormous body of works indicates the pervasiveness of this

ideology and its vitality. Given the economic constraints and determinations of the

capitalist markets in which these works appear, this vitality and variety argue strongly

that revisionist representations of captivity "sell"--in every sense of the term. Moreover,

the continued audience receptivity to such revisionist arguments cannot simply be

explained by the market-model that critics use to dismiss diversity as a direct result of

consumerism's insatiable demands (e.g. Alf H. Wale). Instead, we need to recognize the

existence of a continuous body of works formerly and formally relegated to the shadows

of critical perception--a body which has maintained its vitality with audiences despite

critical efforts to declare it extinct or insignificant.

Origins and Effects of the Canon

All of these inclinations [to equate what is new with what are usually called
'revelations' and a readiness to denounce or indict] hinder an understanding of
the invisible structures and mechanisms. .that influence the actions and thoughts
of individuals--an understanding that is likely to lead to sympathetic indulgence
rather than to indignant condemnation.

--Pierre Bourdieu
On Television



last criteria allows me to consider every media, including tabloids. Unfortunately, I could not include the
Weekly World News headline "Satan's Corpse" (5 Dec. 1995) because it ultimately reifies conventional
definitions by arguing that Satan's human form was tortured to death by his Lakota captors.










Canonical formation of captivity narrative studies begins with the field's original

voices, Philip D. Carleton and Roy Harvey Pearce. Their voices create the structures that

have determined much of captivity studies for the past half century. Predictably, we see

how these original pronouncements echo throughout the immediate areas (determining

the scope of possible captivity studies) and in the more general area (determining

genealogies in American literary studies for years). Consider for a moment how many

captivity narrative studies and anthologies of American literature privilege Mary

Rowlandson's narrative, but remain silent on the influence of Juan Ortiz, and you will see

what I mean. The corollary to my project's potential effect on this canon is the revision

of American Studies produced by critics like Jane Tompkins and Walter Benn Michaels.

Carleton and Pearce initiate a long-standing determinacy in the Forties when they

formalize captivity narrative studies. In "The Indian Captivity Narrative" (1943),

Carleton argues that the "uniformity" and plain style of the early narratives distinguishes

them from the sensationalized excess of later ones. He also argues that captivity

narratives have maintained a "fully developed formula that has persisted since the very

first settlement of the country to the twentieth century" (176). Such dates attest to his

belief that captivity narratives were only valid when based directly on actual captivity

experiences.

Like Carleton, Pearce emphasizes hegemony and historicity in his formulation,

"The Significance of the Captivity Narrative" (1947). There, Pearce argues for a

historically unified development of captivity narratives which corresponds to a

nationalistic image of U.S. history. At first, he recognizes the polymorphous nature of

captivity narratives, but by the beginning of his second paragraph he defines a










hierarchical structure for captivity narratives which legitimizes itself through the

exclusion of precisely those narratives that are polymorphous. His language reveals his

valuation of this hierarchy. For Pearce, "the first, and greatest" narratives were "simple,

direct religious documents" (2-3), then, as the centuries and imperialism progressed in the

U.S., they devolve into "an occasion for an exercise in blood and thunder and sensibility"

(12), most often supporting that nationalism or reveling in their own sensationalism. This

shift from an original, factual narrative, to a fictional form is what Pearce calls "the

stylization of the captivity narrative" (4). In his conclusion, he defines three stages

through which the captivity narrative evolves: "As religious confessional, as propaganda,

and as pulp thriller" (20). Throughout his formulation, he casts captivity narratives as

relative to an originary authenticity which time and tone have diluted. We can see

Pearce's formulation here as the first major critical echo and endorsement of the

formulation first proposed by Carleton, whose work he acknowledges in his first

paragraph.

This characterization continues to predominate over the next half century as the

primary model for captivity narrative studies. Predictably, such a paradigm excludes

captivity narratives by nonwhites and limits canonicity to those narratives which support

this model. Narratives attain their relative authenticity only through their correspondence

to this model. Thus, narratives like those of John Tanner and Mary Jemison become

anomalies proving the rule, rather than indicative of a larger body of works silenced by

this model promoted by critics whose authority is virtually absolute.

The long-term determination of Carleton and Pearce's pronouncements manifests

itself in the majority of critical work on captivity narratives for the remainder of the










Twentieth Century. For example, Hennig Cohen and James Levernier's The Indians and

Their Captives (1977) argues that in the Twentieth Century, "the captivity theme became

a structure and metaphor for complex, pretentious art forms" (xiv). Elsewhere, they

write: "By the end of the late nineteenth century the genre had lost most of its historical

and autobiographical integrity. It ultimately blended with the 'penny-dreadfuls' of

American's Victorian-age fiction" (3). Such finality illustrates how influential Carleton

and Pearce have been for captivity narrative studies.

A major example of their determination occurs in the extensive work of Richard

Slotkin, particularly in his Regeneration Through Violence (1972) and Gunfighter Nation

(1993). In Slotkin's scenario, the mythology of regeneration through violence evolves

through and by two forms of captivity narrative: one which emphasizes the captive's

passive acceptance of the captivity by a feminized subject (a la Mary Rowlandson) and

the other which emphasizes the active rescue of a feminized captive by a patriarchal

frontiersman (ala Daniel Boone) masculinized either by prior experience (so he knows

Indians better than others, even themselves) or by the rescue itself. Further, the latter

form incorporates the former into "a single unified Myth of the Frontier in which the

triumph of civilization over savagery is symbolized by the hunter/warrior's rescue of the

White woman held captive by savages" (Gunfighter Nation 15). This myth, when used as

part of a nationalist rhetoric, promotes racialist bigotry and violence that then traps its

audiences and authors into a circular logic demanding more violence to support it. This

logic is so exclusive and authoritative, Slotkin argues, that alternatives are virtually

impossible (461-62). His own investigations seem to bear this out, as he only cites the

existence of a handful of "alternatives," as the following summary indicates:









Between 1956 and 1964 the "Cult of the Indian" lost ground to a recrudescence of
more traditional "savage war" renditions of White/Indian conflicts. Although
sympathetic portrayals of the Indian continued to appear, they were outweighed in
number, popularity, and scale by movies that emphasized Indian savagery. Among
the most vivid of these movies were two sensational versions of the "captivity
myth": Huston's The Unforgiven (1960) and Ford's Two Rode Together (1961). A
Thunder of Drums (1961) and A Distant Trumpet (1964) offered more or less
"orthodox" cavalry/Indian conflicts; Budd Boetticher's Comanche Station (1960)
and Sam Peckinpah's Deadly Companions (1961) use Indian savagery as the
background of a formulaic journey or revenge plot. John Wayne's "Mexican
Western," The Comancheros (1961; a virtual remake, Rio Conchos, appeared in
1964), brings the Cold War subtext of these movies to full articulation. Even the
"civil rights" Westerns [e.g. Duel at Diablo] produced in the 1960s address the
problem of anti-Black racism by contrasting good and heroic African-Americans
with a "genuinely" savage race-enemy, the Apache. (Gunfighter Nation 472-73)

He further argues that Westerns experience a last revisionary gasp in 1970 with the

release of movies Little Big Man, Soldier Blue, and A Man Called Horse (1970), all of

which articulate liberal, anti-war ideologies-using captivity and identity as vehicles for

countering progressive agendas. These claims provide examples of his erasure of the

revisionism occurring in most of these movies and for the five decades prior to these

movies' appearance in this and other media. For Slotkin, this two decade period (1950-

1970) forms the most intense and definitive in the life and death of the Westerns.

Furthermore, Slotkin's model relies too heavily on a binary opposition between a

liberal and conservative perspective. Such reductive strategies are precisely what the

majority of alternatives target with their uses of captivity, seeking instead multifaceted

perspectives from which to view the complexities of captivity and identity. The sheer

weight of this "alternative" material overwhelms any model which defines it as miniscule

or irrelevant. What we shall see in the coming pages is a vital and vibrant history of

"alternative" Westerns in a rich variety of media and genres (not just a handful of

movies), which use captivity as part of a rhetorical strategy to counter captivity-as-

conflict and reductive representations of Native peoples.










Before we proceed, I need to address further the binarism that requires me both to

place "alternative" in quotes and even use the term itself. As I have indicated, both by

my quote marks and my argument, "alternative" reifies the very terms it should

jeopardize. Placing the word in quotes does not sufficiently define it as a false category,

its designation emphasizing its inapplicability; instead, it constantly keeps the terms from

Slotkin's model alive through artificial means. Moreover, placing the word in quotes

does not sufficiently designate it as a grapheme, to use Derrida's term, but instead

continues to echo Slotkin's model.

If we are to move beyond such language, and the attendant ideological reduction of

the bodies of works to which it refers, we must do what critics like Spivak and Morris

have argued: allow multiple voices to speak simultaneously. The same charge applies to

my use of "conventional." However, I retain its use throughout the study as a short-hand

way of referencing the context of negative imagery of captivity and Native peoples.

Also, "convention" emphasizes the hegemony of those texts in contrast to the diversity of

discourses in "alternative" texts. To paraphrase Mani, I am not in any way conceding the

power of erasure to such colonial discourse by emphasizing it, but neither am I

capitulating with it by not emphasizing it. The very idea of an alternative body of such

magnitude itself denies that erasure and deserves more than a secondary status. To

emphasize its performative function I use the term "revisionist."

With reference to Native American peoples, I follow a similar strategy and adopt

Gerald Vizenor's injunctions about defining Native identity in Fugitive Poses by my use

of the term "Native." Vizenor's quote here defines my position explicitly, informing my

avoidance of binaries:










The indian is a mundane romance, the advertisement of the other in the narratives.
Natives are elusive, the traces of presence are unnameable in literature; the origins
are deferred, and the acts of reading native stories are the difference, a postindian
"fragmentary insight." The tricky native, not the racialist simulation of the indian,
is an invitation to a "pleasurable misreading." (35)

Similarly I dispense with the designation "Indian" with reference to captivity and

its narratives, particularly since much of this study focuses on the rearticulation of

captivity as exclusively a violent act committed by red captors on white victims and its

narrative as a political tool which perpetuates and is perpetuated by such reductive

rhetoric. Structurally I repeat this rearticulation by placing examinations of works by

Native authors at the end of each chapter--a literal and figurative ciphering that

rearticulates the canonical notion of captivity and its narratives only as products of

"indian" violence. Here I also echo Derounian-Stodola's insightful distinctions about the

term "captivity narratives" in her Women's Indian Captivity Narratives (xi-xii, 1998),

and in so doing further demonstrate my continuity with existent critics calling for the

revision of captivity narrative studies. By emphasizing the play of differences, this study

counters prior determinative models that have enacted, and by so doing, have perpetuated

racialist attitudes against Native peoples as normative.

Finally, this argument does not exempt non-Native peoples from responsibility for

past or current programs or practices that injure Native peoples. Instead, it provides

further means for dialogue about those issues, specifically about how racism reduces

peoples and practices to conventional expressions of violence. It also specifically targets

how academia can perpetuate racism and thereby creating new generations of people

inclined toward colonial perspectives, or conversely, by recognizing that production,

cease it and begin encouraging significant inquiry into the mechanisms driving racism.









In this last point, I join other revisionists working on captivity narratives who call for

revision to what they see as a dominant and dominating model.

Critical Sources

However the public/popular distinction for me does not entail an opposition
between the official and the vernacular, or the academy and the street; public
(institutional/strategic) and popular (practical/tactical) are asymmetrical categories.
I am interested in the varying forms and degrees of involvement between public
culture and popular practices in my period of study, and I take genres, narratives,
and rhetorical practices to be material and historically persistent, as well as
productive modes of such involvement.

--Meaghan Morris,
Too Soon, Too Late

As I stated above, much of my study's impulse derives from both critically and

creatively revisionist works. For the moment, I will focus on those critical revisionists;

the body of my study will focus on those creative revisionists, whose work extends far

beyond the decades of critical revision. I proudly attach my study to the handful of

dedicated critics of captivity narratives who have raised their own voices to call into

question the determinacy of prior models. Those of you familiar with Kathryn Zabell

Derounian-Stodola and James Arthur Levernier's work (1993), for example, will see how

my work expands their claims. But readers will soon realize how and where my work

departs from theirs. In large part, our approaches differ in the range of our investigations,

but we maintain similar goals of revision through inclusion.

These critics have maintained the need for canonical revision for almost three

decades now. This revisionist impulse arises from a variety of works, like Norman J.

Heard's The Black Frontiersman (1969) and Vaughan and Clark's Puritans Among the

Indians (1981). Heard's book celebrates a range of African American captives (e.g.

Estevancio and Louis Pacheco) and thereby actively engages several issues of captivity as









an exclusive construct, while Vaughan and Clark explicitly state that the original

captivity narratives were told by Native peoples about European colonials capturing their

people and that the current construct of "captivity narratives" derives from the exclusive

monopoly on publication exercised by European Americans (2). Another early

revisionist example occurs when Annette Kolodny (1981) extends the boundaries of the

canon by questioning its determination of female captives and their narratives in her

examination of the Panther Narrative. From these early claims, revisionist inquiry

expands exponentially when critics like Christopher Castiglia (1996) and Kate

McCafferty, John Saillant, and Rafia Zafar rearticulate the field of inquiry to include

romance novels and slave narratives.2 Gary Ebersole (1995) concludes his argument for

a religious recontextualization of captivity narratives studies with an examination of

South American and contemporary North American popular narratives. More recently,

critics like Paul Baepler continue this momentum with his work on American Barbary

captivity narratives (1999).

Some of the most significant consequences of such an approach are revisionist

studies that emphasize the human ambiguities in an otherwise determined area. For

example, Colin G. Calloway designs his anthology North Country Captives: Selected

Narratives of Indian Captivity From Vermont and New Hampshire (1992) to illustrate

that the "north country was not a racial battle line," but "a porous zone of interaction


2 We will return in more detail to McCafferty and Castiglia during the study.
Saillant argues that Leonard Hayne's text Mystery Developed (1820) "merged the language of the
captivity narrative with the language of slavery and emancipation" as part of a larger strategy to vindicate
the Boom brothers (123).
Zafar argues that because they "shared 'non-white' status with their captors," African Americans
modified their captivity narratives to engage the determinacies in Puritan narratives-what Carleton calls
that "simple indigenous American prose" form (176). Zafar also notes that by the 1800s, African
Americans shifted "from telling tales of Christian trial and redemption at the hands of heathen Indians to
relating narratives of oppression under the dominion of Christian whites" (19).









where colonists and Indians lived alongside each other as often as they fought, where

cautious coexistence was more usual than open conflict" (viii). These regional narratives

eschew the more common Puritan reliance on Satanic characterizations for Native

captors; instead "they more often portray Indian captors as human individuals rather than

agents of the Devil" (viii). These narratives, Calloway continues, reveal that "the reality

of Indian-white interaction, even in captivity, was far more complex" than Puritan

narratives would have it." Correspondingly, his study reveals the limitations imposed on

critical inquiry by too narrowly focusing on Puritan origins in captivity narrative studies

(a striking parallel to the power of revisionists who challenged the construction and

consequence of Matthiessen's American Renaissance).

We can gauge the growing momentum of this movement toward revisionism by

noting the changes in Richard Van Der Beets' position relative to the canon. In the

reissue of his Held Captive by Indians (1994), Van Der Beets argues that the critical field

of captivity narrative studies has burgeoned since his book's original publication (1972).

He also argues that subsequent anthologies fail to accurately represent the range of

captivity experiences recorded, but instead reinforce the concepts advanced by Pearce

and similar critics by restricting the field of study to a small canon (xv).3

Other critics take this exclusivity as the impetus for their revisionary studies. We

find one of the most ambitious models in Kathryn Zabell Derounian-Stodola and James


As this survey indicates, these critics above are significantly questioning and rearticulating the
field of captivity narratives, thereby producing a healthy debate as to the identity of the field. However not
all critics pursue their stated agendas, For example, In the introduction to the 1992 republication of Mary
Jemison's captivity narrative, June Namias dates captivity narratives from the late seventeenth to the early
twentieth centuries (10)--the recurrent effects of Carleton and Pearce. Elsewhere, Namias attempts to
redefine captivity as a practice transcending cultural boundaries by arguing that Native Americans,
Europeans, and Africans had participated in traditional captivity practices long before the appearance of the
Anglo-centric genre of captivity narratives (8-9), but she does not explore her claim in depth. Such
ambivalence indicates the need for expanded canons, but also a certain anxiety over their expansion.









Arther Levernier's The Indian Captivity Narrative, 1550-1900 (1993).4 There,

Derounian-Stodola and Levernier demonstrate the need for critics of captivity narratives

to expand the genre's horizons historically and culturally, as well as engage the racist

nature of many narratives and the institutionalized agencies promoting that exclusion, as

revealed in the epigraph above. As part of this agenda, they include narratives written

before Rowlandson's (e.g Ortiz and Nufiez de Pineda y Bascunan) and from sources other

than Anglo-American narratives (e.g. Mexican-American and African-American). In

doing so they revitalize a restricted field by encouraging a dialogue about the form and

function of captivity narratives and the critical assumptions underlying the narratives

considered in the field.

Finally, perhaps the most succinct insight into the current state of captivity

narrative studies comes from Christopher Castiglia (1996) who argues that

"Contemporary criticism continues to assert the 'unity' and 'conformity' of both captivity

narratives and their subjects, shaping a large body of literature into predictable patterns

that sustain the colonizing and paternalistic stereotypes endorsed by earlier editors" (21).

Three of the most influential of these "earlier editors" are two of the field's initial voices,

Philip D. Carleton and Roy Harvey Pearce, and their direct descendent, Richard Slotkin.

To understand the present problems of critical inquiry into captivity narratives, we need

to examine how these originary figures have defined the field of critical inquiry.



In contrast, Gordon Sayre performs but does not identify the need for inclusion other than to
recontextualize Smith and Rowlandson's narratives:

Although the captivity narrative genre in American literature has commonly identified
Rowlandson as its founder, this collection includes her text, Smith's, and a range of others that
reach back to the sixteenth century and outward toward other types of captivity. When examined
in this larger context, a few common features emerge, connecting the genre's two Anglo-
American originators with their successors. (3)









Methodology

But if theory as tool kit is not to degenerate into theory as grab bag, if theory is to
address the present in any meaningful way, what is necessary is a rigorous politics
of translation in the widest sense of the term: transcoding that is scrupulously alert
to specificities, avoiding the triple pitfalls of conflation, erasure, and elision.

--Lata Mani,
"Cultural Theory, Colonial Texts"

By structuring my study as I do, I avoid the risk of setting up a "problematic chain

of equivalences" between "very real differences," and thereby enacting "the triple pitfalls

of conflation, erasure, and elision," to borrow from Mani (393-5). In this way, I enable

these textual bodies to speak for themselves, provide their own contexts, and exist

independently of restrictive models--trying to achieve what Alonso, Mani, Morris,

Spivak, and others have advocated as the break with the past that will allow something

new and real to emerge, instead of simplistically repeating the past.5 My methodology

also engages the interpretivist/structuralist debates raging in cultural studies today by

seeking to balance these two poles (Mukerji 22). Finally, I do not propose this

"alternative" history as a binary solution to a monologic erasure. Such a move would

perpetuate the illusion of a space outside of power relations in which "the resilience and

creativity of the human spirit [can exist] in its refusal to be dominated" (Abu-Loghud,

1990). Instead, I try to representt the existence of resistance and its erasure to inform the

determinacy of the canonical process inherent in captivity narrative studies in the U.S.-

precisely the sorts of historicization that critics like Alonso and Mani argue are

essentially to distinguish critical projects.

Alonso's argues that only by historicizing the deployment of a dominant rhetoric can we deny its
apparently hegemonic control.
In Too Soon, Too Late (1998), Meaghan Morris perceptively argues for the limitations of current
models and the need to redefine them (224), as revealed in her epigraph in this chapter.
I also follow a similar path derived from Pierre Bourdieu's exploration of journalism by creating
this study as "an exchange within a larger debate" (11), which in part will be generated by this exchange.










My study focuses on those works which specifically seek to revise captivity

narrative conventions and their attendant ideologies about Native peoples. By captivity

narratives I mean what Derounian-Stodola argues so succinctly in the introduction to her

Women's Captivity Narratives (xi, 1998). If I considered all works invoking captivity

outside of this focus, I would have to consider works as far ranging as Nevil Shute's

romantic melodrama An Old Captivity (1940), Kate Webb's reorientation of the

Cambodian offensive through her North and South Vietnamese captors' treatment of their

captives in "Three-Week Captivity" (1971), and Renegades' (1989) playful relationship

with captivity when it has Hank Storm (Lou Diamond Phillips) "capture" Buster

McHenry (Kiefer Sutherland) as part of his strategy to regain the stolen tribal artifact and

regenerate McHenry as the frontiersman who knows Indians (my nod to Slotkin).

Instead, I focus on those works which revise conventional representations of Native

peoples and captivity by such peoples.

Despite the size of this body of works, most of these works use a fairly common set

of rhetorical modes to argue for revision of conventional representations of captivity and

Native peoples. With this in mind, I have defined and illustrated those modes below to

familiarize readers with the major rhetorical modes that they will encounter with the

individual texts in the subsequent chapters. In doing so I have also retained Mani's

warning about "the triple pitfalls of conflation, erasure, and elision" by then allowing the

remainder of the works considered to retain their own voices within a chronological

ordering. This combination also allows readers to see how continuous and constant

revisionist production has been for the past century--itself proof against the determinism

of canonical formulations









Modes of Representation

Captivity-as-Complexity

"It had never been rumored that Gray Eagle took white female captives before."

"I know. Every day I have come to see more and more how they view ex-captives.
I think perhaps the women's treatment of me is the worse, for they should
understand what it would be like to change places with me. They should know that
a woman cannot refuse the strength of a man. Why do they believe that they would
have had the strength and courage, even the honor, to resist it all, at any cost to
their sanity and lives? Do they fear facing the knowledge of what they might do if
they were placed in that same situation?"

"You are a constant reminder of their possible captivity," Powchutu assured her,
"of what could just as easily happen to them. They rebel against the truth that they
would not resist their captors. They have seen the results of torture. They know
inside that they would not rebel against any order. Your condition when you
arrived here told them that you had resisted, and yet lived. Their own cowardice
and envy blind them to understanding and sympathy."

--Janelle Taylor,
Savage Ecstasy

Predictably, of all the rhetorical modes used by revisionists, captivity-as-

complexity proves the most difficult to summarize but is also the most essential element

in all revisionist representations. It obviously seeks to confront captivity-as-conflict

through its intricacy and ambiguity--confronting head on captivity narratives which

reduce captivity to an act of violence committed by savages blinded by their own passion

and excess. Moreover, it directly counters the reductive rhetoric and simplistic binarisms

characteristic of negative stereotypes and forms defining Native American identity and

captivity.

As we shall see, examples abound, but here works like Mary Louise Clifford's

When the Great Canoes Came (1993) illustrate this point. There, Clifford represents the

early history of Virginia tribes after Pocahontas, revealing the savagery of whites

inflicted upon Native peoples, one example of which is the brutal torture of Pamunkey









captives by Bacon's troops (28-30). Moreover, Clifford includes an extended narrative of

Opechancanough's captivity among the Spanish (1560-1570) to explain his adamant

resistance to any European colonization (42-53). Other works like Mette Newth's The

Abduction (1989) utilize a similar format of shifting perspectives to reveal the relativity

of captivity and an explicit indictment of European practices of capturing peoples of

color and slavery. Instead, such captivity narratives argue for a universal humanism that

is forcibly erased by nationalist and individual greed to perpetuate racial differences in

negative terms. Such captivity narratives reveal this constructedness and its

consequences, with the further intent of preventing similar circumstances for future

participants.

Moreover, such strategies illustrate Stuart Hall's principles of oppositional codes.

In developing his trilogy of possible audience responses to coded productions, Hall

argues that the oppositional code represents the most proactive position for audiences

since it allows audiences the ability to renegotiate the dominant-hegemonic positions

representedd to them. Many of the revisionists considered below actively use this

strategy for that effect.

One of the single best examples of such a use of captivity narratives is Cynthia

Hasseloff's Satanta's Woman (1998). In part, Satanta's Woman follows from a longer

tradition of captivity-as-complexity fostered by authors like Dorothy Johnson and Jack

Jackson.6 But it goes beyond these works' use of captivity by representing the

complexities of the captive's experiences in greater detail. However, her distinction is not




6 Tuska claims that Hasseloff copied "Johnson's captivity story, "Lost Sister" (1956) in long-hand
to study her narrative technique" (382).











simply a matter of length; it hinges upon the representation of the multiple possibilities of

captivity.

To do so, she pointedly avoids the simplistic binarism that would counter

stereotypical captivity-as-conflict with an overtly positive endorsement of Otherness. For

example, she has Adrienne come to greater realization of her Christian identity through

her captivity (e.g. 202), then to a morality that transcends the precepts of both Judeo-

Christian and Kiowa precepts, and even becomes a potential source or reconciliation

between the two cultures as when she begins to show Woven Blanket and the others how

to plant seeds, and their inherent meaning (242). Hasseloff includes traditional captivity

elements when she has Woven Blanket recount the Kiowa woman Ah-tah-zone-mah's

captivity narrative which relates how she brought Buffalo Medicine to the people (119-

20). Furthermore, Hasseloff plays off conventional and revisionist images when she has

Adreienne and her family captured (45-66). She has Adrienne recall Satanta's brutality

even during the height of her love for him, as when she watches him dance his pledge to

return Lottie to her (239-40). Again, Hasseloff avoids the simplistic erasure of past

horrors; instead she reveals the full range of possibilities for captivity. Undoubtedly, her

major emphasis is on the relativity involved in captivity. She places most of her authorial

weight on validating Adriene's Comanche captors and their life ways as human, not

savage.

Captivity-as-Comedy

"Due to the length of our program, it will be necessary to cut short this thrilling
chase between Capt. Johnny Smith and the Indians."

--Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas










Captivity as comedy encompasses a diverse range of media and the entire century,

but it reiterates the same rhetorical position: conventional captivity is a construction of

nationalistic and patriarchal origins.7 Many comedic uses of captivity specifically indict

the very basis for the conventional images of captivity and identity by overemphasizing

the convention's major attributes. This focus through excess reveals the excessive nature

of conventional images. Notable examples of this mode include Abbott and Costello's

Ride 'Em Cowboy (1942), John Barth's The Sot-Weed Factor (1960), and The Hallelujah

Trail (1965), Tom K. Ryan's Tumbleweeds comic strip (1965-present), and Great Scout

and Cathouse Thursday (1976).

In addition to this general indictment of racist agendas, many cartoons from the

Thirties also target specifically the ways in which its reductive rhetoric employs captivity

to further vilify Native peoples.8 For example, in Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938)

Egghead, portraying John Smith, accidentally knocks over his subtitle. This gesture, in

addition to casting Egghead as Smith, and the cartoon's title in metatextual terms, indicate

the ways in which this cartoon will directly engage the representations of captivity



If we were to include all uses of captivity for comedic effect, we would need to include movies
like Congo Maisie (1940), in which Ann Sothern forestalls her captors through her vaudeville magic act, or
the more recent Revenge of the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise (1987), where the hazing frat brothers don
Mesoamerican costumes and pretend to sacrifice a maiden they have "captured" and taken to a psuedo
MesoAmerican temple. However, my intention is to explore not simply every comedic use of captivity, but
those which seek to redefine captivity and promote the humanity of Native peoples. Southern's performance
reifies a racist, imperialist view of ignoble savagery which can be manipulated by the most amateurish
performance, while the mock sacrifice serves only to further humiliate the pledges and reinforce
stereotypical images of Native peoples. In both cases, captivity confirms, rather than challenges, negative
concepts of hierarchy and identity. But such is not the case in the overwhelming number of examples that
we will examine which use captivity to directly challenge that apparently dominant rhetoric.
8 The Warner Brothers animation studio busily creates images of Native peoples that engage racist
concepts while promoting them. This graphematic discourse defines much of Warners' and other studios'
animation with regard to race and gender issues. Anyone who has seen any of the following titles will
recognize how easily the two coincide in Warner cartoons like Sweet Sioux, for example. During the
Thirties, it produces at least seven cartoons that directly bear on our investigation here: Westward Whoa
(1936), Sweet Sioux (1937), Injun Trouble and Johnny Smith and Poker-Huntas (1938), Pied Piper Porky
(1939), Scalp Trouble and Sioux Me (1939).










surrounding the Smith/Pocahontas legend: as one of the prime icons of this legend,

Smith's captivity and the legend itself will become targets for literal and figurative

displacement. After the ship lands in America, the theater management informs viewers

that "Due to the length of our program, it will be necessary to cut short this thrilling chase

between Capt. Johnny Smith and the Indians." This direct address both invokes the

audience's familiarity with the basic story while denying its near-sacred status. The next

scene reveals Smith on the chopping block, a dotted line defining where his captors will

slice off his head (literally using golf strokes) while a cheering section clamors with the

contemporary football cheer "Give 'em the axe! The axe! The axe!" This conflation

underscores the violent nature of the cheer as well as collapsing cultural and temporal

differences between the captors and attendants of a football game in 1930s U.S. This

collapse accelerates over the next scenes. When Poker-Huntas learns what is happening

from Walter Winchell on the radio, she speeds to Smith's rescue in her car. His captors

give chase in their cars, after counting to 50. During the chase, Poker-Huntas directly

addresses the audience, saying "Now, don't you people out there get excited, because you

see the Indians don't catch us and we escape on a ship." Egghead prevents her from

finishing the story, but the cartoon ends years later with the couple happily married.

They offer their numerous children as a direct reproof of The Last of the Mohicans,

thereby directly challenging the authority of Cooper's novel and its attendant ideologies,

as well as directly referencing contemporary movie versions (like the 1932 Mascot serial

version or the 1936 big-screen version starring Randolph Scott).

Other examples from this time argue for a pervasive revisionism. During Porky's

protracted exchange with the King of the Cats (disguised as a giant rat to prevent Porky










from receiving his reward form Hamlin's mayor) in Pied Piper Porky (1939), the Warner

animators reference this revisionist perspective. By doing so, it continues to representt

revisionist issues to audiences thereby amplifying the potential effects of such agendas.

Van Buren Studios' Molly Moo-Cow and the Indians (1935) offers a much more detailed

revision when it has Molly Moo-Cow rescue her two duck friends from a male Indian

who imagines them as a roast duck dinner. He captures them by encircling them with

arrows. The ingenious ducks (ala Last of the Mohicans) drop arrows from his quiver to

indicate their trail to Molly. Molly discovers them as their captor has tied them upright

(not like the image of the duck dinner he had originally imagined) to a stake. He gathers

fuel and tenders a fire, at which point Molly arrives to plead and then fight for their lives.

By shifting the ducks from potential duck dinners to actual captives (horizontal to vertical

"roasting" positions), this cartoon clearly references the conventions of captivity. The

ducks are not longer entrees but captives. By having them become captives, this cartoon

has redefined the conventional terms of captivity: captivity can now be of any one,

regardless of species.

As spurious as this may at first seem, this translation emphasizes the relative

exclusivity of conventional captivity--its rigidity and reductiveness. This cartoon further

emphasizes this constructedness by contrasting the Indian male's savagery with the

Indian woman's humanity (her intercession on Molly and the ducks' parts). A

contemporary Three Stooges short "Whoops! I'm an Indian" (1937) Curly's

impersonation of a Native woman is replete with similar revisionist references to

Pocahontas in contrast to rapacious whites. Finally, a decade later, Fleischer Studios'

produces Wigwam Whoopee (1948), in which Popeye (as John Smith) and Olive Oyl (as










Pocahontas) enact their own version of this revision of the Pocahontas/Smith legend and

its effect on representations of captivity.

As these examples indicate, many studios and media used similar referential

orchestrations to emphasize the constructedness of Pocahontas and Smith's story,

particularly Smith's captivity. These different examples target Smith's captivity because

of its primacy and authority over other captivity narratives. In other words, by

referencing and revising "the" source of conventional captivity narratives, these media

seek to revise all aspects of conventional captivity imagery.

One final example illustrates how animation engages and extends prior restrictive

representations of captivity. Early in this decade, Disney releases Pioneer Days (1930).

This cartoon is replete with standard rhetoric: pioneers fulfilling Manifest Destiny and

having a good-old-fashioned dance to cheer themselves up while evil Native characters

(here anthropomorphized into liquid weasels whose savagery drips from their every

move) spy and plot their murder and capture. When the inevitable confrontation comes, it

is in standard circled wagons format, enlivened by the animators' humorous presentation

of the situation. Predictably, one of the evil weasels captures Minnie, thereby

necessitating Mickey's masculinity to empower him to rescue her. Minnie suffers the

conventional binding to a stake and threats of death and the fate worse than death, while

Mickey ineffectively struggles to overcome her captor. With its "ironic" ending, this

cartoon emphasizes the constructedness of conventional captivity images, and especially

calls the entire complex into question through Mickey's inability to rescue Minnie, and

her own ability to rescue herself. What appears is a strong, independent female captive,

whose resourcefulness rivals that of her Native counterparts and other Anglo captives









who affect their own rescues. This endorsement of female captives' capabilities and

problematization of conventional captivity terms completely contrasts with the cartoon's

original reification of conventional, reductive rhetoric.

Captivity-as-Commodity

Epics follow a well-paved story line which satisfies a host of white male
expectations: the white woman is captured by "savages"--and "we all know how
they treat their women"; she is forced to live in a state of utter humiliation and
abjection, raped, beaten, tortured, finally stripped and murdered. Such little
comedies serve to titillate the white male, intimidate "his woman," and slander the
persons upon whom the white male has shifted the burden of his own prurient
sadism.

--Kate Millet,
Sexual Politics

Captivity-as-commodity brings a constellation of issues with it whenever it

appears. Obviously, such a use of captivity brings up what have become standard

questions of commodification: Who is commodified? By whom? Why?9 These three

simple questions translate into incredibly complex sets of issues revolving around

captivity in general and the specific instances being represented. Moreover, emphasis on

the economic dimension of captivity redefines it as a practice driven by markets, not by

the Native captors' essential savagery.

Perhaps the two best places to see this dynamic are where the authors specifically

designate the captives as part of a commercial circulation system in which captivity is

simply a component: in other words, when captives appear equal to horses or other goods

(e.g. Dorothy Johnson's "A Man Called Horse," 1950, and Will Cook's Saga of Texas,

1959). Such an explanation immediately confronts the reductive equation of captivity

with conflict, and in part, justifies captivity as part of another/an Other's economic (and

In this respect, I do not differ from the perennial source of such questioning, Gayle Rubin's "The
Traffic in Women" (1975).











by extension cultural) system. Many of these examples involve Native female captives,

which in turn indicts many of the conventional assumptions about. Moreover, many of

these works using captivity-as-commodity foreground the silencing imposed upon red

and white women when commodified by captivity and by their original cultural identities.

The Big Sky (1952) illustrates these last points. In the movie version, white

trappers seek to use Native female captives as part of larger, personal bid for imperialism.

In other words, by ransoming a female captive and returning her to her people, these

trappers seek to insure their own monopoly over trade with her people. In both movies

the protagonists explicitly define the female captives as purely economic pawns in a

larger game. In both cases, the tribe to which the female captive is returned is Blackfoot.

And in both cases, opportunism and greed turn to romance and relativism, as the would-

be-exploiters becomes romantically involved with the captives. In the movie version of

Big Sky, Teal Eyes (Elizabeth Threatt) is a captive, while in the original book (1947)

Guthrie has her as simply someone who had been rescued from the Missouri River and

kept among the lower trading settlements until Jourdanais seeks to return her to her

people as part of his trading strategy. The movie explicitly rearticulates conventional

captivity by contextualizing Teal Eyes' narrative as one of captivity: When Jim (Kirk

Douglass) asks Zeb (Arthur Hunnicutt) to explain her reason for being on the journey,

Zeb succinctly states: "Crow war party catched her. Crow and Blackfeet hate each other.

Pure luck she slipped away 'fore they could kill her." This brief explanation foregrounds

both economic and intertribal dimensions of captivity, as well as featuring a resourceful

Native female captive (part of a larger Native captivity narrative tradition). Moreover,









her role as "hostage" in Jourdanais' scheme redefines her "return" to her people as a

second captivity.10

Across the Wide Missouri (1951) and The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976) perform

similar sorts of economic erasure of female captives. Alternatively, revisionist uses of

captivity-as-commerce emphasize that economy, as does a wide range of texts from Two

Rode Together (1961) to the Gunsmoke episode "The Squaw" (1975) to Kenneth

Thomasma's Naya Nuki (1982)

Captivity-as-Context

Ironically, the earliest New World captivity narratives must have been told by
American natives: Spaniards, not Indians, first seized hapless victims to serve as
guides, interpreters, hostages, or curiosities. But the Indians soon retaliated, and
because Europeans long had a monopoly on the written word, most printed
accounts related capture by Indians. Hence "captivity narrative" came to mean an
account, usually autobiographical, of forced participation in Indian life.

-- Alden T. Vaughan and Edward W. Clark,
Puritans Among the Indians

Another integral part of revisionary captivity uses is captivity-as-context.

Essentially, this category argues for the relativity of the terms and designation of

captivity. It forms a corollary with captivity-as-conspiracy in its emphasis on the

constructedness of captivity for political motives. Richard Wheeler's The Two Medicine

River (1993) and Earl Murray's Flaming Sky (1995) do so for adult audiences, while

Sherry Garland does so in her young adult historical novel Indio (1995). Ostensibly, her

novel chronicles the transition of Native peoples into Mexicans in Post-Contact Texas

and Mexico. In the process, however, she also defines the Jumano peoples taken by the

Spanish slavers as "captives" (124), with its consequential rearticulation of conventional


1 Intriguingly, the French version of this movie retitles it as La Captive Aux Yeux Clairs--thereby
directly defining it as a captivity narrative.











roles and definitions for captivity. She includes a "traditional" Jumano story, about how

the first woman rescued a group of people from their captivity, for which she was

punished (59-60), thereby invoking certain Native traditions on captivity. And, finally,

she includes the story of Ipa's sister Xucate, who was also captured with her, as she plans

and executes her escape from their abusive captors (213), thereby referencing traditional

Native captivity forms as we have seen. In this way Garland has recontextualized

captivity as a construction dependent upon the individual example's circumstances.

Paul Fleischman, perhaps best known for his 1989 Newberry winning Joyful Noise,

offers his version of this mode with his Saturnalia (1990). He makes this alignment

explicit through his endnotes in which he the slavery and captivity of Narragansett people

by English Colonists (111-2). Similarly, well known Magic Tree House author Mary

Pope Osborne emphasizes the contextuality of captivity in her Standing in the Light

(1998). By so doing, Fleischman and Osborne join the league of other juvenile authors

who wish to effect long-term changes to perceptions of captivity and Native peoples by

emphasizing their contextuality.

Many reference-oriented works also employ captivity-as-context to reveal the

existence of captivity in formerly/formally erased categories. For example, captivity

appears without apology in works like The American Girls' Welcome to Josefina's

World, 1824 (1999) which represents captivity as a given in New Mexican society at this

time by profiling a Navaho captive among the Spanish, Rosario, and a Spanish captive

among the Apache and her treatment upon return, Refugio (38-39). Along similar lines,

Kim Dramer's Native Americans and African Americans (1997) represents the relativity









of captivity among Native and African Americans, as well as revealing the extent of the

slave/captive trade in Native Americans by EuroAmericans (16-17).

Captivity-as-Conspiracy

Consider the use of the experience of enslavement in works by black writers. This
is not a subject that plays much of a role in Indian narrative works, not because
Indians weren't enslaved but because their traditions don't include them in the
same form in which it appears in black American traditions. For us, the whole
issue of enslavement is part of the issue of conquest and colonization. In that
context, it becomes a theme that shows up frequently in Native writers' stories
about jail, boarding school, war, and abduction. In all of these stories the
underlying theme is about forced separation, signifying the loss of self and loss of
personal meaning. Separation as loss (rather than as maturation or liberation) is a
theme found all over Native America in both pre-contact and modem forms, and is
particularly central to Native women's stories in both their told-to-people and told-
to-the-page modes

--Paula Gunn Allen,
Spider Woman's Granddaughters

As with the other modes, captivity-as-conspiracy underscores the constructedness

of captivity conventions (which is a larger strategy to demonize Native peoples and

thereby facilitate their colonization and even extermination). In other words, authors use

captivity to reveal the conspiracy driving such nationalism and racism. Leslie Marmon

Silko's Almanac of the Dead (1991) represents one of the most radical revisions of

captivity yet. It incorporates several aspects of captivity from metaphorical fantasy

(Ferro's fantasy of himself as Jamey's "captive," 455) to historical rearticulations of

captivity and slavery (Clinton's revisionist project, 413-31). In the process, Silko

unrelentingly redefines captivity in the terms that she has used previously: captivity is a

construction used by colonial powers to perpetuate their own authority; once revealed,

characters and readers realize the binarism inherent in such constructions versus the

realities of captivity. Or as she phrases it near the end of this novel: "Ignorance of the

people's history had been the white man's best weapon" (742).










Silko most forcefully rearticulates captivity and slavery as they manifested

themselves in the Americas. At the general level it drives much of the plot, both as an

aspect of the larger darkness at work in PostContact America. At the specific level, she

highlights captivity practice and experience to define characters. Often, she combines

these two perspectives, telescoping the specific and general into one. For example, she

uses long chronological listings of events that are obscured by history or denied as

instances of captivity (e.g. Angelita's reading the list of resistance, 527-30 and Clinton's

list 742-46). These listings reveal both the construction of these categories and their

relativism. Another place she redefines captivity is by labeling the jailing of Geronimo

and his people as "the lifelong captivity" they had to endure because of their resistance to

colonial expansion by U.S. interests (129). She further amplifies this redefinition by

repeatedly revealing the exploitation motivating much of the Apache persecution (e.g. 80,

133, 220-29). In one of her most radical revisions, she has Mosca imagine a Moslem

world order in which European "captives" prove too demanding of their time and

attention so they would opt for natural population increases to take over Europe (611).

In short, Silko's revision of captivity in Almanac of the Dead is as thorough and as

confrontational as every other topic in this work. Anyone who has read the book will

know to what extent that can be.

As with Silko, authors using this mode often reveal the racist dimensions of

conventional captivity rhetoric. The most often do so by problematizing the terms of

captivity and slavery. This equation further emphasizes the political dimensions of

captivity in conventional images. Perhaps one of the best examples of this reformulation

occurs when famous children's author Joyce Hansen argues for the relativity of captivity









as a concept and definition in The Captive (1994), the narrative of an Ashanti prince,

Kofi Kwame, captured in Africa and brought to the U.S. where he is sold as a slave. To

underscore the relativity of slavery and captivity, she has Kofi constantly and consistently

define himself as a "captive" (e.g. 124). As other children's authors do, Hansen also

advocates for the ability of her audiences to comprehend this relativity. She has the

further intention of complicating the terms of captivity at an early age so that readers will

continue to question categories of captivity and identity throughout their lives.

Other authors engage in similar reformulations of captivity for Hispano and Native

Americans. One telling example comes from Jim Whitewolf's recounting of his Kiowa

heritage also reveals the racist constructions of captivity with regard to Hispano and

Native Americans. For example, he reveals how the U.S. military imposes racial identity

upon a group of captured Kiowa warriors at Fort Sill (Brant 69).

Captivity-as-Contrast

Critical energies in cultural studies of popular media are often pulled between two
rival but complicit temporal modes I have touched on in this book: chronic stasis
("it's all more of the same, nothing ever changes") and acute contemporaneity or
dynamitis ("that was then, this is now! "). Both prolongations of historicism, ...

--Meaghan Morris,
Too Soon Too Late

Most often those authors using captivity-as-conspiracy will also use captivity-as-

contrast to amplify the differences between red and white peoples, particularly as an

inversion of standard representations. These texts use captivity to illustrate the extremes

to which Anglo captors go in their actions, in contrast to Native peoples. For example,

Zane Grey continually invokes the image of captivity by white renegades as the absolute

nadir of possible captivity experiences--far more brutal than anything Native captors

could inflict. Clifton Wisler represents the horrors of white torture of red captives in










Among the Eagles (1989). There he has Willie futilely try to prevent the torture and

murder of two Native children captured by Schultz, the gigantic miner, teamed with Bee

and Hawler who savagely abuse two Native children that they have captured (89).

Similarly, T. T. Flynn's last novel Night of the Comanche Moon (1995), plays off a

revisionist captivity narrative (Mexicans taking Comanches and others captives) against

more traditional images of Comanche abuse of captives. As part of their revisionist

agendas, both novels constantly and consistently attribute the excesses of captivity to

non-Native captors.

In contrast to these relatively simple uses of captivity-as-contrast, other authors

complicate these issues by erasing the binaries of race such uses often reify. In Fool's

Crow (1986), James Welch offers extensive revisions of captivity, which we will explore

later. However, he uses captivity-as-contrast, not to illustrate the excesses of white

captors, but to argue for those excesses as a consequence of a larger degenerative pattern

affecting both peoples. To do so, he invokes images from captivity conventions. He

specifically attributes desires for white women to the renegade band led by Owl Child.

He portrays them lazing about, discussing the "white women" they had had before and

their desire for more in the future. Owl Child jokes that Crow Top "wants himself

another white woman" because "they are better than his hand, even better than his dog!"

(208). When the party raids the white family to avenge Fast Horse's wounded pride and

side, Welch has the members rape the mother, then leave her in a state of shock as

testimony to Owl Child's virulence. Owl Child rationalizes not killing her thusly: "And

when they see that nothing-look in her eyes they would become frightened" (217).

Moreover, Welch has Fast Horse kill the white father too quickly, thus depriving him of









the pleasure of slow torture. In both instances, Welch frustrates conventions of captivity.

Admittedly, he does have the white woman raped and devastated mentally and

emotionally, and the white man killed, but in doing so he emphasizes the ways in which

Owl Child uses captivity to redefine the terms of his and his people's devastation by

whites.

What follows represents my best effort to remain faithful to the moral aspects of

revisionism. I have tried to faithfully representt these texts in a way and place that

allows them to continue their dialogue, with the further intent of their initiating a

continuing dialogue about captivity narrative studies.














CHAPTER 2
1900-1919

"Notice to hostile Injuns--Next time you massacre this settlement, bring back the
pail, and don't leave the covers off the milk pans"

--Ernest Thompson Seton,
Two Little Savages

"She was returning to the home of her childhood; not voluntarily, but as a captive;
captive to her own kindred, her father and mother!"

--Captain Mayne Reid,
The Scalp Hunters

The Mexican government is trying to root out the Yaquis. A year ago his tribe was
taken in chains to a Mexican port on the Gulf. The fathers, mothers, children, were
separated and put in ships bound for Yucatan. There they were driven, beaten,
starved. Each slave had for a day's rations a hunk of sour dough, no more. ...
You see, the Mexicans won't kill outright in their war of extermination of the
Yaquis. They get use out of them. It's a horrible thing. Well, this Yaqui you
brought in escaped from his captors, got aboard ship, and eventually reached New
Orleans. Somehow he traveled way out here.

--Zane Grey,
Desert Gold

To begin our discussion of the Twentieth Century's contribution to revising

captivity and Native identity, we could start virtually anywhere and with anyone--the

wealth of possible choices is staggering. We could begin, for example, in the Nineteenth

century with authors like Lydia Maria Child's Hobomok (1824) or Catharine Maria

Sedgwick's Hope Leslie (1827). We could also add William Apes's autobiographical

writings. These three, along with numerous others, are still in print and readily available

at the start of the century, still voicing their revisionism. However, we will begin with

examples from popular authors Edward S. Ellis, Captain Mayne Reid, and Marah Ellis









Ryan. These examples indicate the extent and continuity of revisionist representations of

captivity prior to the actual turn of the century. They also hint at the largely unexplored

body of works from the Nineteenth century that foster alternatives to the sensationalized

rhetoric of most captivity narratives, primarily by problematizing the terms of captivity,

representing captivity as a complex experience, and Native peoples as people.

Ellis' Wolf Ear The Indian (1900) does so by having Wolf Ear, an Oglallah warrior

adopted by an Anglo family, rescue Edith from his evil twin who is in the act of capturing

her. By so representing Edith's captivity and Wolf Ear's action, Ellis relativizes captivity

and identity. Similarly, Reid's The Scalp Hunters (1851) problematizes conventional

codes by juxtaposing them with revisionist counters. Primarily, it plays off the standard

image of the white female captive (Adele) who has lost her mind and self as a

consequence of her captivity against the barbaric captivity of the Navahos Sequin's party

takes while trying to rescue Adele (355, 444-5).

However, he saves his final, and most effective transcoding for the novels end,

which he destabilizes by explicitly labeling her new situation as captivity: "She was

returning to the home of her childhood; not voluntarily, but as a captive; captive to her

own kindred, her father and mother!" (446-7). This statement indicates the possibility of

audiences accepting radically revisionist arguments in the middle of the Nineteenth

Century and later. Because this statement appears in a Reid book, it carries a great deal

of authority with audiences, who will consequently be willing to accept its revisionist

impulse.1


1 In The White Chief (1872), Reid offers another twist on conventional captivity plots by having
Commandate Vizcarra, and his cohort Captain Robaldo, kidnap Rosita, the object of the Commandate's lust
and convince her that she is a captive of either Yutas or Jicarillas-what he calls this "travestie of Indians"
(182).









In Squaw Elouise (1892) Marah Ellis Ryan articulates revisionist arguments in two

significant ways. First, Ryan profiles tribal custom which allows women to be held as

slaves, which in turn introduces the notion of red-on-red captivity. Second, and more

significantly, Ryan has Elouise maintain Dunbar as a figurative captive while she nurses

him back to health-"a prisoner of love," as Norris Yates puts it (119). Yates further

argues that this aspect of the novel illustrates

that Elouise is trying to assert her independence as a woman even as she submits to
the demand of both white and Native American cultures for the female's total
subservience to the male she loves .... The covert message: Under the double
standard in white society husbands are relatively free to walk away, and many
wives have virtually enslaved themselves to hold their mates, sometimes without
being aware of their self-enslavement or realizing that by accepting the double
standard they are in essence creating their own captivity, forging their own chains.
(119)

Despite its insight, Yates' reading ignores how Elouise allows her "captive" to

decide his own status--a direct refutation of the overt slavery system from which Elouise

comes and the one which she continues to inhabit. Elouise, by her rearticulating

Dunbar's captivity, offers a model by which to refute these absolutist patriarchal

institutions--a point to which both Yates and Reep would agree.2

All of these authors advance revisionist positions through rearticulations of

conventional images of captivity and Native identity. All significantly alter the roles



2 As Diana Reep shows, few novels from this period allow Native American women to be anything
other than devoted worshippers of the white male protagonists for whom they ultimately die, as in Stewart
Edward White's The Silent Places (1904) and in Jack London's Smoke Bellew (1912) (94-96). As Reep
and Yates argue, women characters at this point may function as objects of rescue, but as a rule may not
rescue themselves to their male love interests. However, in Ryan's case here, Yates argues that
The two-voiced strategy may here operate in reverse. The book's message about what male
chauvinism, Indian and white, does to women was socially unpalatable, yet it may have
outweighed the conventional but barely brushed-in message at closure that the ideal marriage is
that of a white hero to a passive and virginal white woman young enough to look up to him as a
father figure and quasi-god as well as husband. This kind of ending is proper regardless of the
hero's previous conduct concerning any sexually attractive but socially ineligible female. (120-21)









played by captives and captors within the convention. In so doing, they emphasize the

hegemonic reduction inherent in that convention by explicitly portraying Native peoples

as people, not simply demons driven by excesses against Anglo characters, and by

representing captivity as a relative construct. Each may end his or her novel with

conventional endings: death insuring against miscegenation; conventional heroes and

heroines (re)uniting in true romantic happy endings; Native characters willingly serving

Anglo characters. But these endings do not erase the problematization their novel's

rearticulations of captivity and Native identity had first introduced into the convention.

Now, I do not intend to suggest the origin of Twentieth Century revisionism in

Reid's, Ryan's, or Ellis', or for that matter Childs' or Sedgwick's works. Pinpointing the

origin of this movement necessarily would involve much more research than could be

encapsulated here. It would also necessarily precipitate us into the sorts of critical and

theoretical pitfalls against which critics like Mani warn us. My intention here is to

demonstrate the existence and vitality of a movement actively engaged in revising

conventional images of captivity and Native identity.

Moreover, as this brief survey indicates, many sources exist at this time, which

have not received critical attention by captivity narrative theorists perhaps because they

do not fall under the canonical umbrella (these works would be more familiar to

children's literature critics than captivity narrative critics, which again underscores the

myopia in which the field operates for the most part). To demonstrate this vitality and

variety, we will turn to a larger survey, again in works perhaps obscured to captivity

narrative theorists because of their designation as other than captivity narratives. We will

begin with an apparently unlikely source, Frederic Remington, then follow with works by










Stewart Edward White, James Willard Schultz, Honore Willsie Morrow, Zane Grey, and

a host of others--all of which reveal how wide spread revisionism is at the start of the

Twentieth Century.

Fiction

Frederic Remington

Remington's visual work contrasts sharply with his verbal work with regard to

captivity and Native Identity. In his visual works, he almost exclusively promotes

conventional images of Native peoples and captivity, while in his written work, he often

complicates and even contradicts these conventions. This conflict reveals Remington's

own ambivalence toward these conventions, and becomes more apparent when compared

with his contemporaries.

Remington's visual work contrasts sharply with contemporaries like C. M. Russell,

who never portrayed captivity (with one minor exception)3 or Native peoples negatively.

For example, Russell's positive work for Frank B. Linderman's Indian Why Tales

(1915), which lovingly represents traditional Blackfoot tales and life ways, contrasts

sharply with Remington's work which primarily represents Native peoples as studies or

as antagonists. In contrast, Captured (1898), one of Remington's images of captivity, is

more consistent with contemporaries like Irving Crouse's The Captive (1892): both





Janice Broderick calls Russell's The Capture of Laura Edgar (1894) "uncharacteristic" (26-27).
She argues that Russell derives this painting from Wimar's The Abduction of Daniel Boone's Daughter by
the Indians (1853) and Billy Bowlegs (1861), both of which would have been widely available. In
addition, she argues for a striking similarity between Russell's image and that of a plate in the
contemporary popular history Indian Horrors: or. Massacres by the Red Men (np. 1891, p. 143) by Henry
Davenport Northrop, entitled Capture of the Boone and Galloway Girls (Broderick 34, n. 20). The actual
engraving in Northrop's anthology (p. 142) shows three young girls menaced by four Native warriors. For
a reproduction of Russell's painting, see Broderick page 60, which reveals Russell's very sedate image of
captivity.










images invoke conventional rhetoric of feminized Anglo captives awaiting their fates at

the hands of menacing Dark Others.

According to Alexander Nemerov, in Captured Remington relies heavily on the

contrast between the smooth whiteness of the captive's body and the rough darkness of

his captors as metaphors informing this painting's Progressive ideals.4 This strategy fits

with Remington's ideological representations elsewhere, which Nemerov neatly sums up

by asking of this painting: "How better to show Anglo-Saxon lineage than to show a

trooper about the be 'blooded to de heels'?" (22). Remington, then, uses captivity in this

painting to maintain an impassable gulf between Anglo and Native peoples.

Other paintings like Return of a Blackfoot War Party (1888) reinforce the violence

inherent in conventional images of captivity. The painting clearly shows a Blackfoot war

party's roughly herding two bound Native captives toward a Blackfoot village. Occurring

almost a decade before Captured, this painting is Remington's submission to the National

Academy of Design for that year and appears in George William Sheldons' Recent Ideals

of American Art (188-89). This notoriety popularizes this image and its illustrator, but it

also promotes the image of red-on-red captivity.

His magazine illustrations amplify this negative rhetoric. Given their wider

audience, these illustrations promote that rhetoric to a wider audience than his gallery

work. "A Trooper's Fate in Apache-Land," for example, represents the initial phase of a


In his reexamination of Remington's works (1995), Alexander Nemerov argues that his painting
Captured (1899) "conventionally depicts the whites of the Old West as sacrifices to progress: they died so
that the West could be settled" (21).
Remington's depictions of Anglo stoicism in the face of impending torture and death at the hands
of dark Native others might produce an invigorating effect on their viewers, as his comments elsewhere
indicate that he intended they should. But, as Nemerov argues about Captured (1899), they might also
serve to underscore the lack of masculinity both solider and gallery-viewer share (126-27). If so, they
would enact a form of captivity on the viewer--dragging the viewer off to be victimized as in "A Trooper's
Fate." This indeterminacy assumes further dimensions when we consider how Remington intended
Captured to be his means for full membership in the National Academy of Design in 1899.










soldier's captivity, leaving the viewer to complete the trooper's fated torture and death by

his captors. While three warriors search for any signs of rescue, two more warriors, each

clutching one of the trooper's booted feet, drag his unconscious body toward his "fate."5

Dark Otherness conspires to inflict unspeakable acts on a hapless, white victim. The

conclusions of these acts appear in "We Discovered in a Little Ravine Three Men Lying

Dead with Their Bodies Full of Arrows 1899" (reproduced in McClure's, June 1899) and

"Your Soldier-He Say" (reproduced in Owen Wister's Done in the Open: Drawings by

Frederic Remington, 1902).

However negative his visual position on captivity may be, his verbal position is far

more reversionary. Such contradictory positions toward captivity inform Remington's

larger relationship with captivity--a relationship that is complex and stands in direct

contrast to the more general image of him as purveyor of a racist Western iconography.6

In fact, through the numerous pieces he authors, Remington problematizes the very

iconography he is so often credited with championing.' In particular, "Massai's Crooked

Trail" (1898) celebrates an alternative captivity narrative tradition that questions the very

basis of paintings like Missing, which he was composing at the same time.

Some of his other pieces unmistakably extol the virtues of Native peoples and

question nationalistic attempts to control and eliminate them like "Uprising of the Yaqui

Indians" (Harper's Weekly, 29 August 1896). Elsewhere he also represents Native

Frederic Remington's Own West, p.23.
6 For example, Remington reveals racist ideas his often quoted claims in "On the Indian
Reservations" (Centuy, July 1889) that Native peoples lack any identifiable rationality (Samuels 35).
We catch glimpses of his ambivalence toward this reductive rhetoric when we compare his
illustrations to the "Red and White on the Border" chapter of Theodore Roosevelt's Ranch Life and the
Hunting Trail (1888, republished in 1915) with Roosevelt's extreme language. In this chapter, Roosevelt
offers an extended account of atrocities committed by Sioux captors during the Sioux Uprising. He
manages this scene of violence inflicted on the captives with finesse (e.g. "putting them to death with
tortures that cannot be hinted at" 107). Remington, however, does not contribute any comparable image to
this chapter. Instead he represents Native peoples with remarkable restraint and respect.









identity in a positive light, as in his last and most lengthy exploration of a more-Native

side of the frontier issue, The Way of an Indian, which is first serialized in Cosmopolitan

(November 1905 March 1906) then reprinted in hard cover in 1906. We can gauge the

extent to which Remington identifies with revisionism, when we consider that he lists

The Way of an Indian among his writings in 1902, more than three years before it was

published, while he does not mention John Ermine, which he was writing at the time.

Moreover, this was his last published piece. Further evidence occurs in his 1907

confession to Perriton Maxwell: "I shall never write another word. I only wrote those

books of mine to introduce people to the subjects I was trying to draw. Pony Tracks,

Crooked Trials, The Way of the Indian [sic] were done with the deliberate view of

educating men and women, who knew not the West, up to a certain standard of

appreciation for its beauties, fascinations, and intrinsic worth" (Samuels 627). Despite

his heavy emphasis on the didactic function of his writings as simply vehicles for self-

promotion, Remington introduces issues that problematize categories of racial identity.

His primary vehicle for such questioning these categories is captivity as revealed in

Crooked Trails (1898).

Remington's Crooked Trails (1898) offers a variety of potential revisions to

captivity conventions. For example, Remington ends this collection with an experimental,

even metatextual, piece, "The Spirit of Mahongui," which sacrifices much of the details

of Bailloquet's captivity among the Iroquois for stylistic effect.8 In this respect, it offers

an oblique gesture toward revising conventional captivity narrative forms and ideologies.

"Joshua Goodenough's Old Letter" foregrounds the rhetorical elements of captivity

8 This story reappears many times elsewhere: First, in Harper's Monthly (November 1897), then
reprinted separately that same year as A Rogers Ranger in the French and Indian War, 1757-1759
(Remington's second book), next in Crooked Trails (1898), and finally in Stories of Peace and War."









narratives through its narrator's self-reflexive commentary on a group of Rangers who

had been captured an then killed by their Mohigan captors when they discover Mohigan

scalps among the captives. However his most extensive revisionism occurs in "Massai's

Crooked Trail" (originally published in Harper's Monthly, January 1898).

Ostensibly, Remington's "Massai's Crooked Trail" is the transcript of what "the

old Apache chief of scouts" told him when he "demanded" to know about Massai

(Samuels 277). However, if we read this account of Massai's life as simply that then we

miss the way in which captivity figures centrally to the story-both literally and

figuratively. Remington embeds Natastle's captivity by Massai and her narrative of that

captivity as a means whereby to frustrate the official drive toward reductivism.

Apparently Massai captures women from the reservation whenever he "was tired of

making his own fires, and wanted a woman." He tells her: "If she was a good girl he

would not kill her, but would treat her well and always have venison hanging up"

(Samuels 280). However, he continues to treat her as a captive, abusing her whenever his

"heart was bad" (280-81). After a long meditation, he returns her to the agency,

requesting her to "'tell the white officer that she was a pretty good girl, better than the

San Carlos woman, and that he would come again and get another." This succinct

message, coupled with the lengthy insights into Massai's character that the story has

provided through Natastle's captivity, informs many aspects of Massai's captivity

practices. Primarily it recontextualizes those captivities as aspects of a more complex

character rather than simply manifestations of a psychopath.

By so recontextualizing Massai's life through Natastle's captivity, Remington

frustrates the official reductions of his life to that of" a problem to successive chiefs of









scouts, a bugbear to the reservation Indians, and a terror to Arizona" who kills women

who "did not please his errant fancy" (282). Instead, Massai emerges as a complex

individual whose actions, especially capturing women, defy conventional labels. By

extension, Remington argues that captivity is not necessarily a categorical instance of

violence precipitated by the inherent excesses of Native peoples; instead, it is an

experience dependent upon the vagaries of the individual captor and his captive.

Moreover, the epitome of such excess emerges as a human being with the ability to love

another individual, as testified by Natastle's captivity narrative. In this way Remington

uses conventional representations and expectations of captivity and Native identity to

revise those very conventions. These contradictory impulses allow audiences to

significantly renegotiate and oppose the hegemonic codes represented in the story--a

strategy absent in his visual works

Frederic Remington's John Ermine of the Yellowstone, 1902

He continues this strategy in his longest, and perhaps most famous, work, John

Ermine (1902). Remington opens John Ermine by invoking the logic defining the

majority of conventional captivity narratives: that whites can only be in Indian villages

against their will-as captives-and that the only moral option for the whites who

observe them there (literally and figuratively) is to rescue them. Specifically, Remington

has Rocky Dan, a local faro dealer, return to Alder Gulch with the news that he has seen

"a white boy out in that Crow Injun camp, with yeller hair braided down the sides of his

head, all the same Injun" and "that them Injuns has lifted that kid from some outfit, and

that we ought to go out an bring him in" (3). Dan's observation and hasty conclusion

motivate his fellow townsmen to mount a rescue party, but not before Remington's

narrative comments on this effect: "The story blew down the gulch on the seven winds.









It appealed to the sympathies of all white men, with double force to their hatred of the

Indians. There was no man at Alder Gulch, even the owners of squaws,-and they were

many,-who had not been given cause for this resentment" (3-4). Here Remington

clearly invokes the reductive effects of conventional captivity ideology to emphasize its

reductive rhetoric.

To emphasize this point, he further develops this argument by contrasting the

"captive's" status among the Absaroke with that among his Anglo "rescuers." One of the

party, known as The Chairman, cautions against a full-assault, and for negotiations for

which he volunteers himself and a mixed-blood known as Chick-Chick. Together they

confront the Crow camp with extermination if they d not turn over the boy they believe to

be a captive. "One white boy is not worth that much," Chick-Chick argues. Before he

complies with their demand, the old chief tellingly declares that: "He is Crow; his skin is

white, but his heart is Absaroke. It makes us bleed to see him go; our women will mourn

all this snow for him, but to save my band I give him to you. Take him. He is yours" (8).

The rescuers return to their town, but not before Remington's narrative again comments

on the effects of this rescue: White Weasel "was indeed unharmed as to body, but his

feelings had been torn to shreds. He added his small, shrill protesting yells to the general

rejoicing" (8-9). Thus far, Remington has constructed sympathy towards the boy and his

adoptive people, who unwillingly sacrifice him to save the remainder of the band,

whereas the white miners act out of "resentment" and "hatred" towards a general concept

of Indians-as-savages, despite the fact that many of them were "the owners of squaws."

In constructing these events in this way Remington has placed the onus on prior

sensationalized and negative rhetoric, which here precipitate violence and the forced









removal of a boy from his adoptive people. He clearly casts the townspeople as myopic

reactionaries in direct contrast to the pragmatic Absaroke chief who sacrifices the

happiness of one individual for the sake of the larger group. Finally, he comments on

the mental and emotional anguish White Weasel suffers at the hands of his "rescuers." In

this way Remington pointedly indicts the rhetoric driving these miners to act.

Remington continues to comment upon this rhetoric and its effects. He has the

miners dub him Gold Nugget, and celebrate White Weasel and the future they project for

him throughout the night. In doing so, they also celebrate their own heroism as rescuers

within the rhetoric of reductive captivity. Remington then amplifies the ambiguity he had

introduced through the chiefs speech and the boy's reaction to his rescue by detailing

White Weasel's brief period of reassimilation, then having him disappear.

Before he explains this disappearance, Remington offers a portrait of the

Absaroke- "The Crows, or the Sparrowhawks as they called themselves" (13)-that

privileges their culture, territory, and detente with whites above other Northern Plains

tribes. He then briefly recounts how Ba-cher-hish-aha, White Weasel's "foster-mother,"

had rescued her son from the mining camp. Once again, Remington represents how

imperative family remains for the Absaroke, in contrast to the miner's exploitative

impulses and imposition of their own concepts of proper familial and racial relations. He

also introduces the notion of alternative captivity traditions: one in which mothers can

and do rescue captives from their captors--a modification of the standard model that

privileges patriarchal rescuers; another in which Native people rescue Anglo captives

from Anglo captors.









White Weasel returns to the life he led before, but Remington carefully constructs

the next scene to distinguish White Weasel from his peers and adoptive tribe. As the

boys play war games with blunt-tipped arrows, White Weasel receives an arrow in the

face without crying out or stopping his charge. Two older Absaroke watching the game

comment on White Weasel's stoicism:

He may be a war-chief-he leads the boys even now, before he is big enough to
climb up the fore leg of a pony to get on its back. The arrow in his face did not
stop him. These white men cannot endure pain as we do; they bleat like a deer
under the knife. Do you remember the one we built the fire on three grasses ago
over by the Big Muddy when Eashdies split his head with a battle-axe to stop the
noise? Brother, little White Weasel is a Crow. (15)

Here, Remington explicitly invokes captivity as a means for distinguishing cultural

groups, as many others have, into those savages who delight in torture and captivity and

those, usually protagonists, who do not. He creates terms that complicate this neat

binary, since the basis for comparison foregrounds the inability of race to ultimately

determine actions, despite the claimants' assertions. One example occurs during a

discussion of White Weasel's potential as an Absaroke leader: "Little Weasel's fortunes

had taken him far a field. He was born white, but he had a Crow heart, so the tribesmen

persuaded themselves. They did not understand the laws of heredity. They had never

hunted those" (22). This ambiguity prevents his characterizing the Absaroke as being

privileged observers, thereby avoiding the binarism that simply inverts conventional

terms. Instead, Remington complicates all assertions of racial identity through statements

like this.

To prove his point, Remington devotes the remainder of the novel to White

Weasel's failed attempts at reassimilating into Anglo culture. His primary focus in doing

so is White Weasel's failure to realize Merril's (Crooked-Bear's)prophecy that he will









become white again, own wagons full of sugar and coffee, and even marry a white

woman, before he renames him John Ermine (73-74). Remington manifests all of this

failure through White Weasel's relationship with Miss Searles. When she rejects his

liminality for conventional Anglo masculinity (Butler), Remington has White Weasel

devolve into a subhuman character: "All the patient training of Crooked-Bear, all the

humanizing moods of the pensive face in the photograph, were blown from the fugitive

as though carried by the wind; he was a shellfish-eating cave-dweller, with a Springfield,

a knife, and a revolver. He had ceased to think in English, and muttered to himself in

Absaroke" (268-69).

Most critics have emphasized this ending as a definitive statement of Remington's

Progressive ideology. For example, Bold sees this conclusion as the inevitable outcome

of Remington's allowing progressive elements to encircle his indigenous characters (52-

64). However, these critics ignore the reversionary impulses determining the novel's

course from its opening--the places where Remington indicts those conventions. The

rhetoric of conventional captivity precipitates this tragedy, not the inevitability of

colonial domination. White Weasel's tragic end results from the original impulses

motivating the miners to "rescue" him from who they believe to be his Absaroke captors.

Thus, Remington argues for a revision of those conventions

Stewart Edward White's "The Girl Who Got Rattled," 1904

In a strategy similar to Remington's, Stewart Edward White also emphasizes the

constructedness of conventional captivity in order to empower readers to rearticulate that

rhetoric. His short story "The Girl Who Got Rattled" does more than define the reticent

protagonist of Arizona Nights (1904): it engages the expectations produced by

sensationalized captivity narratives and throws them on their ears. As with most short









stories, this one relies on its ironic ending, but in doing so, it rearticulates the very

foundations of negative stereotypes against Native peoples promulgated by horrific

captivity narratives. White constructs an elaborate scene which allows him to both

invoke then deny the very discourse he targets. First, he creates a stereotypically shy

cowboy protagonist, Alfred, whose affection for the dismissive Easterner, Miss Caldwell,

renders him mute. White then has this character galvanize into a no-none-sense action-

hero when he realizes that a Sioux war party is heading toward the spot where Miss

Caldwell is enjoying a ride. White next interjects standard rhetorical imagery to define

the attackers as demons: e.g. "an outlandish and terrifying species" (327). He thereby

invokes the standard matrix of imagery associated with Indian attackers sensationalized

in captivity narratives. Readers also see the effects of such imagery when they witness

Miss Caldwell's abject terror at the thought of the attack. White then constructs an

elaborate scene which brings the terror associated with their upcoming fight and the

contextual reading White has invoked into full detail when he has Alfred counsel Miss

Caldwell about the impending attack (327). White invokes the conventions of the-last-

bullet and the-fate-worse-than-death, emphasizing them textually through his

punctuation. He does, however, avoid any explicit sexual threat to Miss Caldwell by

detailing her violent fate. Having thus constructed this scene, White sets about to deflate

it and its attendant context of negative imagery about captivity and captors. He has

Alfred fall into a prairie dog hole at the moment of the attack. Seeing him fall, Miss

Caldwell believes he is dead and therefore shoots herself. Her belief in Alfred's warning

literally leads her to kill herself, not her would-be captors. Her belief that captivity is a

fate worse than death causes her to take Alfred's advice too literally.









Readers both appreciate the macabre humor in the situation (as when Alfred

comments "Pore little gal! She hadn't ought to have did it!" [329]) as well as the sense of

how their own belief in horrific captivity narratives can lead to a similarly truncated

conclusion. Like Alfred, White warns that we readers should not believe everything that

we hear about captivity, or we too may reach a rash decision with similarly self-defeating

consequences. We could dismiss such an ending and its ironic play with the conventions

of captivity as simply White's need to fulfill a conventional need of the short story form

or his desire to distinguish this story from other similarly-focused stories (and thereby

gain publication through this alternative formulation). But to do so we would deny the

intricacy of his construction and its potential effects to redefine readers' expectations

about captivity narratives. Yes, White uses irony here, but not just for formal reasons.

He clearly intends to effect revisions to readers' perspectives on captivity.

James Willard Schultz

Beginning in the 1890s and continuing into the 1940s, James Willard Schultz's

revisionist contributions consistently endorse Native peoples and life ways. As part of

this agenda, he also rearticulates conventional captivity images. Given the length of his

commitment to this argument, and the stature of his authorship, we can argue that his

revisionism helps determine of the debate at this time and for a large number of readers.

Finally, the length of his commitment and its popularity indicate a high degree of

audience acceptance of those positions.

Warren Hanna's biography of Schultz (1986) provides invaluable information for

estimating Schultz's literary presence, and correspondingly the extent of his revisionist

arguments. For example, we discover that Schultz produces two or three books annually

for Houghton Mifflin between 1912 and 1947, the year of his death. Houghton Mifflin









continues to exercise exclusive control over Schultz's works for years after his death.

After that contractual agreement expires, several other publishing houses reissue versions

of My Life as an Indian, and other of his works. Overall, Hanna estimates that more than

two million Schultz books have been published (261). Add to this the constant presence

of his serialized pieces (such as "Red Crow's Brother," The American Boy,

October/November 1927)-most of which later became books-and we begin to see the

phenomenal presence Schultz and his work command for roughly the first half of the

Twentieth Century.

In his autobiographical My Life as an Indian (1906, 1924)9 Schutlz includes a

chapter devoted to the captivity narrative of an Arickaree woman, Is-sap-ah'-ki (Crow

Woman), which he represents in her own words. By giving her a voice (textually, her

own; metaphorically, to her and other silenced captives ) and her own chapter in this

collection, Schultz signals the importance of her narrative to his works' explicit political

renegotiation of stereotyped views of Native peoples. Moreover, he relates a captivity

narrative that constantly challenges the conventional drive toward simplistic violence.

Her narrative reveals that her Absaroke captor pities her enough to allow her to

bury her husband, who he died in their defense. Moreover, her captor does not take her

husband's scalp because of her pleas. He takes her to be a slave for his six wives who

constantly abuse her. When he confronts them for their actions, they try to kill Is-sap-

ah'-ki. As a result, she accompanies him everywhere. On a raid, the warriors leave Is-

sap-ah'-ki and another Crow woman to tend the camp, never to return. Is-sap-ah'-ki

deduces that they have been killed and that she and her companion must try to reach her


This book first appears in Forest and Stream magazine under the title "Lodges of the Blackfeet" in
1906 and 1907.









people. She manages theirjourney until they are captured by Bloods. Her captor, Deaf-

Man, proves to be a kind husband and she is "happy" as his wife. Later, one of Is-sap-

ah'-ki's companions convinces Deaf-Man to let her live with her, where she has remained

into her old age. As this narrative reveals, not all captivity narratives follow conventional

plot lines that depict captivity as simply negative.10

Perhaps his most concerted effort comes in the next decade with his Bird Woman

(Sacajawea), The Guide of Lewis and Clark. Her Own Story Now First Given to the

World By James Willard Schultz (1918). Repeatedly throughout Bird Woman, Schultz

argues that his version of Sacajawea's tale will counter the prevailing misconceptions of

her role in the Lewis and Clark expedition. For example, he details her many names as

part of his larger agenda to argue that readers need to understand the ways in which

ethnocentrism obscures the realities of Native American identity and cultures. He then

focuses on her captivity narrative in great detail to emphasize this point.

By so doing, Schultz maximizes her narrative's revisionist potential to advance his

larger agenda of reeducating a public wholly ignorant of such intricacies. He seeks to

capitalize on his authority as an acclaimed author to further support this campaign. He

had acquired this authority through his earlier works, which include a series profiling his

adventures among the Blackfeet peoples. The first in this series, With the Indians in the

Rockies (1911), features Ah-ta-to-yi's (Thomas Fox's) experiences among the Blackfeet

people, who constantly emerge as human beings not savages. Here, he does not mention

captivity at all, instead devoting many pages to detailed instructions about winter survival

1 In another story, a Blackfoot-speaking Kutenai shares his "Story of the Fish-Eaters" with Schultz
and Nat-ah'-ki, a romantic captivity story (121-33). In another story, while raiding a Piegan camp, Crows
mercilessly slaughter any they can reach instead of taking captives (195). Taken in conjunction with his
narrative of Is-sap-ah'-ki's captivity, these stories represent Schultz's attempt to reformulate captivity and
its conventions to promote Native identity and alternative captivity traditions.









as the Blackfeet would practice it. However, in one of the next installments of Ah-ta-to-

yi and Pitamakan's adventures, With the Indians in the Rockies (1913), captivity figures

prominently as the pair discover that stereotypes about captivity by other tribes do not

hold. One of his most radical revisions occurs in On the Warpath (1914), another

installment of young Ah-ta-to-yi's (The Fox's) adventures among the Blackfeet. There,

Schultz introduces captivity in a variety of situations, all of which emphasize the

shortcomings of negative constructions of captivity when compared to the realities of

captivity experiences.

As outspoken as these works are, Schultz's magazine work is just as outspoken.

Much of this work proceeds his longer pieces (1890-1900), providing a comparison as

well for Remington's work from this same time. Moreover, these shorter magazine

stories would also increase the audience exposed to his revisionist agenda--either by

diversifying his readership or increasing it given the stories' size and ready availability in

a wide variety of venues. Finally, given the earlier dates of these shorter pieces, we could

argue that their popularity (with their revisionist arguments about captivity) provide the

necessary basis for the larger works. That these stories sell and are popular informs

contemporary reception to revisionist arguments.11 In fact, several of these stories

reappear in anthologies of his works over the next decades. For example, Forest and

Stream's editor Grinell "incorporated many of these tales [that he had published in the

magazine] into Schultz's book Blackfeet Lodge Tales" (Silliman viii).

Two stories illustrate the range of his revisionism. In "A War Party" (1890),

Schultz interweaves accounts of a Blackfoot war party with aspects of traditional

1 Elsewhere, other authors are performing similar revisions and representations of captivity to mass
audiences, as in George Bird Grinnell's Blackfoot Indian Stories (1913). The major difference in their
strategies, though, is that Schultz audience is diverse, while Grinnell's audience is more specific.









Blackfoot tales about persons being held captive by people living underwater.12 In doing

so, he offers the explanatory matrix ending the traditional tales: that this captivity

explains Blackfoot traditions of offering gifts to such underwater beings before crossing

bodies of water (compare Schultz's version with accounts in Wissler and Duvall.). In

this respect he is communicating to his audiences a traditional, Native American

perspective on captivity as well as one aspect of Native American captivity narrative

traditions. Another remarkable use of captivity employs fiction to advance his revisionist

perspective. Schultz's "To Old Mexico" (1900) revises conventional captivity

expectations by having Spai-yu, a Mexican character adopted by the Blackfoot, mount a

revenge raid against his own brother for past injustices.13 As these two examples

illustrate, Schultz's magazine work offers a variety of rearticulations of captivity, which

help revise conventional rhetoric of captivity and Native identity.

At this point, readers may consider that revisionism is the exclusive purview of

Western authors. However, other authors working in other genres and media are using

captivity to revise its conventional context. For example, O. Henry's famous short story

"The Ransom of Red Chief' (1907) explicitly and implicitly redefines captivity. O.

Henry uses an alternative version of captivity to dramatize Red Chiefs excess--a product

of sensationalized and negative constructions. As O. Henry formulators the story, Red

Chief cannot decode this rhetoric; in the process of revealing this fact, 0' Henry also

cautions his readers against such rhetoric and its debilitating effects. Finally, the

popularity of this short story, with its invitation to reconsider captivity, has kept its



1 Originally published in Field and Stream, June 19, 1890 under the pseudonym A. B. Anderson,
then collected and published in an anthology in 1907 under the same pseudonym.
1 Originally published in the Great Falls Tribune (March 4, 1900).









revisionary potential before readers for almost a century now proving the viability of

revisionist positions for large audiences.

At the same time revisionist authors like O'Henry, White, Remington, and Schultz

question the basis for conventional representations of captivity and Native identity, other

authors work to silence any such reformative voices. A poster for Buffalo Bill's Wild

West Show illustrates this drive by prominently displaying a scene from The Summit

Springs Rescue (1907) in which a knife-wielding Native woman threatens a bound white

female captive (presumably Maria Weichel) as another Anglo woman and child

(presumably Susanna Alderdice and her infant) struggle on the ground.14 Riding to her

rescue is the cavalry, led by Buffalo Bill. The troupe's daily performance of this scene

continues to enact its reductive rhetoric, reinforcing through repetition its negative

formulations: savages who will take and pollute and/or kill white women; strong male

rescuers who arrive to reinstate the stolen women into their original theater of

exchange.15 Audiences observe both the static image and the live performance,

collapsing and reinforcing its iconography in ways that cause each to underscore the

other's representation of Native Americans as essentially savage and captivity as one of

the most explicit expressions of their murderous excess. Similarly, famed Western artist

Charles Schreyvogel unveils his large canvas painting of this image the next year, as The

Summit Springs Rescue--1869 (1908), adding a degree of high-art validation to the scene,

its enactors, and the iconography. Finally, the Vitagraph short Terrible Ted (1907)

invokes captivity as part of a juvenile fantasy of power relations, which ultimately

reinforces the stereotypical representation of captivity-as-conflict.

14
Thomas W. Knowles and Joe R. Lansdale 62-63.
Slotkin's arguments about this aspect of captivity narratives rings true. Cf. particularly 467 and
361-62 in Gunfighter Nation.









Honor Willsie Morrow's The Heart of the Desert, 1912

While such forces muster for conventional ideologies, other voices join the call for

revision. One such group that successfully opposes the convention's codes are those

women authoring formula Westerns at this time. As Yates represents the state of early-

twentieth century formula Westerns by women, a handful of female authors deserve

wider recognition for the ways in which they engage and expand the confines of formula

Westerns.16 Among this list of authors, Yates argues that Honore Willsie Morrow merits

reconsideration because of the ways her Western novels "broadened the subject matter of

the formula to include woman's search for religious faith and her right to participate

actively in politics. She also pioneered on another frontier when she became one of the

first formula writers of either gender to offer as a happy ending the marriage of a white

heroine to a Native American hero" (101).

This latter point refers to Morrow's novel The Heart of the Desert (1912) in which

the Native American hero Charles Cartwell, whose Mescalero name is Kut-le, rescues the

white heroine Rhoda Tuttle from the deterioration and degradation of her existence in

white society, manifest in her relationship with John DeWitt. In performing this rescue,

Kut-le invokes the terms of captivity; by having him do so, Morrow invokes those same

terms only to revise them as a commentary on the state of contemporary gender and

racial politics. Morrow constantly has Kut-le vow to "give up [his] race for" Rhoda, if

she will only marry him. However, only after he takes her captive does she realize the

full potential of his identity and potential loss. And at this point the two characters




1 Similarly, Elizabeth Ammons argues that "Many white women writers tried to divorce themselves
from the tradition of the domestic novelist that, with few exceptions (in their view), contained and
trivialized women fiction writers in the United States for most of the nineteenth century" (121-22).









extricate themselves from their racial identities and unite romantically in spite of "the old

sense of race distaste" that precludes their interracial relationship (48).

Specifically, Morrow has Kut-le take Rhoda captive as the means whereby to

restore her health and allow her the opportunity to realize her own self; in doing so,

Morrow extends and expands the revisionist possibilities of gender politics that Yates

correctly identifies as driving much of this novel's purpose. For Yates, Morrow alters the

standard romance plot driving most formula Westerns to emphasize the possibilities

Rhoda, and by extension all women, have for altering similar roles. However, Yates

misses the centrality of captivity and its revision to Morrow's innovation. In other words,

Morrow uses captivity to redefine both the formula Western and the possibilities of

captivity for female captives, not the other way around.

To do so, Morrow casts Rhoda as first a frail invalid that by novel's end has

transformed herself and the primary males in her life into capable beings. Rhoda has

even saved these men's lives, thereby reversing her original state and indicating the

possibility for similar transformations and capabilities for readers. And the vehicle for

this realization is a revisionist definition of captivity. Morrow has Kut-le define his act of

salvation as theft, Indian-style: "As a white man I can no longer pester you. As an Indian

I can steal you and marry you ... That's just what I'm going to do! ... If I steal as a white

would steal. I would be caught at once. If I use Apache methods, no white on earth can

catch me" (50).

As Rhoda is abducted, Morrow invokes standard rhetoric of sensationalized

captivity narratives: "Utterly helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end

worse than death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of her









reason" (54). From this initial invocation, Morrow develops their relationship from

antagonism to adoration so that by novel's end they are deeply in love and mutually

respectful of each other's positions. Morrow has them literally ride off into the sunset

together. Again, this romance of self-realization depends upon a revisionist notion of

captivity. Later authors like Zane Grey and Madeline Baker use this plot line, again with

a central emphasis on redefined/ing captivity and Native identity-thereby proving how

central this strategy is to revisionists.

Elsewhere at this time, other authors also advance positive images of Native

characters. Some do so directly through revised captivity images, others by avoiding

issue of captivity altogether. For example, Gwendolen Overton's The Heritage of Unrest

(1901) reveals the prejudices against Felipa's mixed racial heritage before having her

succumb to racial intolerance at the novel's end. Marah Ellis Ryan's Indian Love Letters

(1907) presents a series of love letters written by a dying Hopi educated in the East to the

white woman he met and fell in love with there; ends with the Hopi woman attending him

as she writes her wrath to this white woman. B. M. Bower's Good Indian (1912) plays on

the common saying that "The only good Indian is a dead Indian" from its introduction of

Grant Imsen (8-9) by exploring the effects of education and acculturation on him.

Identity issues abound until the novel's end when Imsen rescues Phoebe and they unite in

a romantic union. Captivity does not occur here, but a positive endorsement of the

possible relations between a red man and white woman does. Similarly, Honore

Willsie's Lydia of the Pines (1917) represents the depredations that Native peoples suffer

under assimilationist policies. Her attack and indictment of such policies remain constant

throughout this book, ending with a call for a revised patriotism-one which









acknowledges these assimilationist evils and which strives to institute new policies which

will maintain Native sovereignty.

While these women challenge the larger conventions reducing captivity and Native

identity to expressions of violence, other authors are adding their voices to the call for

revision. One of the most highly recognized authors engaged in revision through formula

Westerns at this time is Zane Grey.

Zane Grey

Perhaps best known for his Riders of the Purple Sage (1912), Zane Grey has been

continually examined by critics and audiences for his formulations of Western

iconography. However, most critics have ignored his reformulations of captivity, which

begin with his first novels and continue to his last. When they do discuss his uses of

captivity, they almost exclusively confine themselves to his conventional uses, as in

Riders.17 To this seminal work, critics can add other Grey titles like The Light of

Western Stars (1914), The Lone Star Ranger (1914), and The Border Legion (1916)--all

of which constantly rely upon the conventions of captivity narratives, primarily the

convention of the strong white protagonist rescuing the white female captive/love-interest

from a menacing, Dark Other.

Such images reference contemporary uses of conventional rhetoric like that in the

movies The Indian Scout's Revenge (1910) and Captured by Mexicans (1914) which cast

Hispano Americans as captors whose brutality exceeds that of Native captors. Similarly,

Edgar Rice Burroughs' The Cave Girl (1913) represents a white female captive (Nadara)



1 Lee Mitchell, for example, argues that: "If the persistence of the 'captivity plot' suggests that
Americans have from the beginning felt insecure in their cultural identity, Riders of the Purple Sage marks
nonetheless a special moment in the history of that narrative form, appearing at a moment of particularly
acute anxiety about American culture that the novel itself helped to form" (Westerns, p.136).









rescued literally and figuratively by the protagonist (Waldo/Thandar) from savage

Otherness, with both characters achieving the predictable romantic fulfillment as rich,

recognized figures in a hierarchical class order to which they are restored. However,

Grey modifies this variation in subsequent novels like Code of the West (1923) and Lost

Pueblo (1927), where the white protagonist kidnaps his love interest and subsequently

marries her in a form of romantic captivity much more consistent with historical

romances. However, to generalize in this way, we ignore Grey's implicit and explicit

uses of captivity to revise these conventions.

Despite this trend toward conventional uses of captivity, Grey also performs some

amazing revisions to this convention in a number of works. These examples are almost

equal in number to those of his conventional uses. For example, he orchestrates his

revisionist impulses within conventional contexts in works like Desert Gold (1913)18 --a

strategy similar to Morrow's above. There, Grey assigns these conventional roles to

Mercedes, Rojasa, and Thorne (and Gale). But in doing so, Grey also introduces a

dedicated Yaqui helper to Gale, whose desert survival skills prove invaluable to the

party's successful rescue of Mercedes. Grey could have let this anonymous character

remain as the stereotypical Indian helper so prominent in fiction, but Grey appends

additional aspects to this figure that inform his revisionist impulses. In doing so, he uses

the apparent shallowness of this character to advance deep political issues. He can then

use this character as a vehicle for indicting the racial extermination of the Yaqui people

then underway by the Mexican national government. In exposing this governmental

practice, he offers readers a revised image of captivity with the intent of ending this


1 Desert Gold is first serialized in The Popular Magazine, 1 April, 15 April, 1 May, 1913; and
republished in Zane Grey Western Magazine, December 1948).









practice. Moreover, by setting this novel in the present, he redefines captivity as a

contemporary act, not an historical footnote.

Grey is unrelenting in his indictment in two places: when he first introduces Yaqui

and when he has Gale realize that racial identity is completely ambiguous. Grey offers an

extended passage in this first instance which politicizes Yaqui's situation in terms that

revise conventional representations of captivity (see epigraph above, 133-34). This direct

indictment prevents this novel from simply casting Yaqui into the same role that

Chingachgook occupies in The Last of the Mohicans. It informs readers as to a current

and real genocide occurring across the border. Furthermore, Grey's language specifically

defines this situation as one of captivity, thereby revising standard rhetoric which casts

red captors and white captives, Here, the situation is complicated and requires readers to

confront their standard expectations about captivity.

Grey then continues the effects of this rhetoric when he has Gale realize that he and

Yaqui are equivalent, despite any apparent racial differences.

Yet Gale was reminded of the Indian's story. His home had been desolated, his
people carried off into slavery, his wife and children separated from him to die.
What had life meant to the Yaqui?

What had been in his heart? What was now in his mind? Gale could not answer
these questions. But the difference between himself and Yaqui, which he had
vaguely felt as that between savages and civilized men, faded out of his mind
forever. (234)

Again, Grey uses captivity, and its redefinition, as the vehicle for redefining racial

identity. Gale's epiphany results from Yaqui's captivity narrative, and serves as a

metaphor for readers to experience a similar realization.

Published posthumously, Grey's "Yaqui" (1976) is another explicit indictment of

the Mexican persecution of the Yaqui represented in terms of captivity. In this story









Grey reveals in horrific detail how the Mexican government hunted and captured Yaquis

as slaves. But he is unsparing in his images of the Yaquis' abuse by their Mexican

captors. This brutality exceeds that attributed to Native peoples toward their captives,

which analogy is central to Grey's agenda. He (re)defines the Yaqui's experience as

captivity, thereby redefining captivity. Grey, therefore, uses captivity to argue against

this persecution.

As one of his last published works, "Yaqui" illustrates the depth of Grey's

commitment to revisionist programs. However, he begins this commitment at the

beginning of his career. In his first published novel, Betty Zane (1903), Grey invokes

captivity to modify a traditional romance plot and romance to modify a traditional

captivity plot. Critics like Stephen May have adequately dealt with the historico-fictive

aspects of this story (34-38), but have not examined Grey's tentative uses of revisionist

captivity images in this and his other Border novels. Here, for example, he has Issac and

Myeerah engage in a protracted series of captivities that suggest alternative solutions to

conventional captivities plots. This impulse comes to a head when Myeerah explains at

length to Issac her motives for having him recaptured (92-94).

This detailed scene illustrates Grey's revision of captivity and identity. He replaces

violence with romance as the motivation for Issac's captivity. He also defines Native

society as more fluid than Anglo society in terms of racial diversity: Issac can become a

Wyandot, while Myeerah cannot become white. He will develop this corollary, before

finally concluding it (as many other romance authors will later this century) by having the

couple achieve peace away from white settlement, the only place such an alternative can

exist (as Castiglia would argue). Thus, Grey again invokes captivity as a means to









achieve conventional romance, but he modifies it by having the Anglo male protagonist

accept his identity as Other instead of abandoning a Native woman who dies from grief

so that he can marry a white woman. Captivity, then becomes the catalyst for this

couple's realization of romance outside traditional boundaries-a strategy echoed by

many later romance authors using this same plot.

After this revision, Grey offers another, which will become a standard for him--

captivity by white renegades. Here, he has Betty almost captured by Miller for his own

desires. But Betty thwarts his efforts, and in a telling rebuke redefines the language of

captivity. She replies to Miller's repeated offer, that "I'd be burned at the stake before

I'd take a step with you!" (189). Clearly, she prefers death as a captive by red captors

than life as a captive with her white captor. Grey intentionally magnifies the horrors of

captivity by white captors through this language, and in the process rearticulates captivity

at several levels. This formulation will become a mainstay for his work, combining the

conventional reduction of renegades to subhuman status with the correspondent

questioning of captivity-as-violence to foreground the rhetoric of captivity and race that

problematize both categories.

Grey's next installment in the trilogy, The Spirit of the Border (1906), uses

captivity in a far more conventional way than Betty Zane, even using it to justify

religious conversion of Native peoples. His final installment, The Last Trail (1909),

replaces Betty with Helen and Leggitt with Girty, but retains the essential plot of Spirit.

Conventional images abound, as the following examples show. While a captive to

Brandt, Helen takes courage from the stories of the bordermen's ability to rescue her

(206-07). Later, Grey has Wetzel kill Case at the very moment that he was about to kiss









Helen, as convention dictates (213). The novel ends with the bordermen having removed

the threat of captivity by white renegades so that Progress can continue unhampered. In

this sense, captivity is an impediment to that progress.

In his subsequent novels, Grey's continues to use captivity, but more often to revise

the conventions that these early novels promote. As some of the above examples

indicate, Grey actively revises conventions. For example, Grey's The Lone Star Ranger

(1914) explicitly redefines captivity as relativistic and determined by political, rather than

racial, categories.19 Grey casts Jennie as a captive who endures captivity at least twice.

In detailing these captivities, Grey expands the possibilities of conventional rhetoric and

problematizes both that rhetoric and its agents. He does so by defining Jennie's status

with Bland as "captivity," one which Duane vows to end. He has Euchre, Duane's friend,

relate Jennie's narrative as an inspiration for Duane to act and rescue her from her

captivity and himself from a future as an outlaw:

He had been forced into outlawry; she had been stolen from her people and carried
into captivity.

They had met in the river fastness, he to instill hope into her despairing life, she to
be the means, perhaps, of keeping him from sinking to the level of her captors.
(93)

Grey's rhetoric here is explicit: it equates the white traders who acquired Jennie

with "captors" and her period with them as "captivity." Once again, Grey advances the

idea that whites can and do capture other whites, and that the conditions that result are no

different, and often worse, than the conditions that would result if the captors had been

red. This strategy problematizes captivity as a consequence of race, and by doing so



1 According to Loren Grey, the editors at Harpers pasted the first half of The Last of the Duanes to
the final installments of The Rangers of the Lone Star to create The Lone Star Ranger because they thought
The Last of the Duanes was too violent (Rangers of the Lone Star, 11).









argues for readers' awareness of the construction of captivity for negative political

purposes.

Grey does not simply end this revision here with Duane rescuing Jennie and

restoring her to her original family. Instead, he brings them to the point of Duane

returning her to that family before he has her endure "her second captivity" (135). He has

Duane unsuccessfully rescue her from this captivity. Instead he has her pass into

ambiguity, since Duane cannot learn with any certainty that she had died during her

second captivity. In fact, he kills too quickly in the heat of his vengeance the man who

could have proven her death. This inability for Duane to bring closure to Jennie's

situation further emphasizes Grey's initial point that white captivity is equivalent to red

captivity: Jennie disappears among her white captors as quickly and impossibly as she

could have among red captors. Moreover, this plot resolution prevents Duane from being

the omnipotent frontiersman who always manages to rescue the victim. In this way Grey

rearticulates these conventions, thereby emphasizing their rhetorical function.

In addition to this reformulation in the mid Teens, The Last of the Duanes appears

throughout the remainder of the century in reprints. It switches formats, as when it is

serialized in Argosy (September 1914) and in Zane Grey Western Magazine (October

1947), but retains the same representationn of captivity that appeared in the original.

These reiterations form a continuous dialogue upon captivity that encourages readers to

question the conventions of standard captivity narratives. Moreover, this reprinting

illustrates the way in which an initial rearticulation of captivity can continue to echo long

after its original publication. As such, these reprintings continue the dialogue begun in









the original and potentially reach new and wider audiences than the original had done

when serialized, thereby expanding the audience receptive to revision of captivity.

Moreover, this story appears in several movie versions over the next three decades,

each time with one of that period's major stars playing the lead: 1919, with William

Farnum; 1924, with Tom Mix; 1930 with George O'Brien; and 1941, with George

Montgomery. Each of these retellings invokes the originals' revisionism, amplifying and

augmenting its argument in tandem with the printed versions' continuous (re)appearance.

In this way, Grey's argument remains before generations of audiences.

Movies

Kevin Brownlow argues that critics like Ralph and Natasha Friar ignore many

contemporary movies when they claim that Hollywood created a homogenous body of

anti-Indian movies in the early decades of this century (327-28). He further argues that,

in marked contrast to the movies from the Thirties and Forties, many Silent Era movies

offer historically and culturally accurate, as well as sentimental, portraits of Native

cultures and peoples, a point echoed by William K. Everson. Unfortunately, as

Brownlow notes, the full extent of that body of movies can never be known since most of

these movies are either lost or incomplete due to deterioration and other forms of neglect.

Numerous movies represent Native peoples in a positive light. Movies like

Ramona (1910, 1916) and Hiawatha (1910) offer noble savagery, while movies like Song

of The Mended Flute (1909) and The Wildwood Flute (1910), both directed by D. W.

Griffith, respectively feature well-known Native actors Chief Dark Cloud and James

Young Deer (who later becomes a director for Pathee Freres producing such movies as










The Cheyenne Brave and Red Deer's Devotion) in conventionally sentimental portraits of

Native identity.20



The movie industry publications from this period reflect a general acceptance of Native peoples,
as when contemporary media decry the inaccuracy and bigotry certain movies had foisted onto their
viewers. For example, in 1911 a group of Indian delegates arrived in Washington and condemned
producers with gross libel for racist movies (Brownlow 329). In that same year Moving Picture World
editorialized that contemporary movies would counter past prejudices and misrepresentations: "All of the
more artistic Indian movies exalt the Indian, depict the noble trait in his character and challenge for him
and his views and his manner of life the belated admiration of his white brother" (Brownlow 330). The
month before this editorial, Stephen Bush had decried the reductive aspects of conventional imagery in his
"Moving Picture Absurdities" also published in Moving Picture World:

The greatest of them all is the Indian. We have him in every variety but one. We have
Indians A la Francais, "red" men, recruited from the Bowery and upper West End Avenue. We
have Licensed Indians and Independent Indians-the only kind we lack are the real Indians. ...
General Sherman said that there were no good Indians except dead ones. He had never seen the
moving picture Indian. There is no medium of morality about him. He is either wholly good,
seemingly transplanted from the skies, or else a fiend and an expert scalper in constant practice.
Those who know him best describe the Indian as stoic and unemotional, but what a change when
the red brother poses before the moving picture camera. He is as busy and talkative as the
"villain" in the first two acts of the old-fashioned melodrama.
You cannot escape the moving picture Indian. Recently I visited five moving picture
houses in a Southern tour and five in a city in New England. The Indian was everywhere. The
moviemakers tell us that the demand for this sort of thing is overwhelming. I studied the audiences
in the theatres visited, while the Indians were doing their worst on screen, and noticed no feverish
enthusiasm denoting approval. I sincerely believe they were tired of them, especially as the music
with the picture is always the same. (Bush 60)
This formulation of a qualified positivism and even Bush's sarcasm indicate an audience awareness of such
movies as constructions. But we also hear contradictions to this positivism. For example, in 1911 Moving
Picture World critic Louis Reeves Harrison argued that: "The noble red man, who used to sell land that he
never bought or paid for, drink the proceeds and then murder the purchaser in cold blood, is becoming
immortalized" (Brownlow 334).
Earlier that same year, another editorial urges producers to use "Real" Indians to document the
vestigial remains of their racial characteristics before they were erased through assimilation (Bataille 59).
Four years later, Ernest Alfred Dench in his book Making the Movies (1915) argues that using such "real
Indians" only excited their natural urges toward violence: "It might be thought that this [movie work]
would civilize them completely, but it has had a quite reverse effect, for they work afford them an
opportunity to live their savage days over again, and they are not slow to take advantage of it" injuring
white actors and firing live ammunition (Dench 61). And a decade later, publicists for Thomas Ince's
movie company invoke a similar rhetoric to sensationalize their movies, only to be contradicted by Ince
when he wrote that "Arousing their [Indian actors'] anger sufficiently to attack the enemy with any
semblance of reality was one of the hardest things I ever had to tackle in my whole career in motion
pictures."
The years 1914 and 1915 demonstrate the competing forces defining Native peoples in movies. In
these two years Buffalo Bill Cody finished his collaborative movie documenting what he claimed would
represent the truth about the last decades of the Plains Wars to the Massacre at Wounded Knee. The movie,
which appears under various names and in various edits, met with governmental suppression which, with
the exception of one copy of the final reel, leads to its destruction (Brownlow 233-35). After its premiere,
tribal spokesmen protest Cody's representation of Wounded Knee. The Cody movie enters an arena in
which movie companies toss off factual movies like Life Among the Navahos, Camping With the
Blackfeet, and The New Red Man (Brownlow 243). However, other companies dedicate themselves to
making positive movies about Native peoples, which meets with popular success, like Edward S. Curtis' In









Several movies from this period directly engage issues of past and present bigotry

toward Native peoples, as does The Friendless Indian (1913). Moving Picture World

(1913) summarizes the movie's plot: "Condemned to walk alone, a Red Man saves a life

and is given only a nod for thanks-after all, he is Indian." Lone Star (1916) portrays the

devastation enacted by assimilationist policies when its Native character returns from

Eastern schools, having become a surgeon, to help his people only to become an outcast

from them and the white society which had encouraged him. Such movies directly

counter the sensationalism of movies like D. W. Griffith's The Battle at Elderbush Gulch

(1913), in which hordes of dog-eating Indians besiege settlers, slaughtering men, women,

and most graphically babies along the way--a scene duplicates in the movie's promotional

poster.

Griffith's productions at this time illustrate this tension between positive and

negative representations of Native identity and captivity. Two years before he produces

The Battle at Elderbush Gulch, he had made Flaming Arrows, The Last Drop of Water,

and Fighting Blood (1911), all of which capitalize on negative stereotyping of Native

peoples and promote their extermination as an inevitable part of Manifest Destiny.

However, he also had produced positive movies like The Mended Flute (1909) and A

Pueblo Legend (1912). And he uses captivity in a revisionist sense in more than one

movie, as in his The Indian Runner's Romance (1909) where a Native warrior must

rescue his love from her white outlaw captors. He offers more radically revisionist

arguments in The Redman's View (1909) when white invaders capture a Native woman,


the Land of the Headhunters (1914). In 1915 Rodman Wanamaker releases his thirteen reel documentary
on Native customs History of the American Indian which inspires the creation of Northwestern Movie
Corporation, which produce Indian Life (1918) and Before the White Man Came (1920). Nurse Among the
Tepees, a 1920 public health documentary, exposes the ravages of trachoma among Arapaho children.









whose lover attempts to rescue her, but is captured instead. When the pair faces death at

the hands of their white captors, one of the whites rescues them by asserting their validity

and prompting their freedom. In this respect Griffith resembles his contemporary

Thomas H. Ince who produces revisionary movies like Custer's Last Raid (1912), more

radically outspoken movies like The Invaders (1912), whose title says it all, and

extremely outspoken movies like The Heart of the Indian (1912), in which whites

massacre a Native village. But his legacy seems to depend on the conventional and

sensational images of captivity that he creates.

These men are not alone in their directorial uses of conventional images of

captivity and Native identity. Famed director Raoul Walsh crafts the critically and

popularly acclaimed movie The Conqueror (1917), a sentimental portrait of Sam

Houston's (William Farnum's) origins and love for Eliza Allen (Jewel Carmen), with a

gratuitous scene of captivity. Cherokees (Eagle Shirt, Chief Birdhead, and Little Bear)

capture Eliza as she searches for Houston, but soon release her when they recognize her

identity and speed her on her way to the couple's romantic fulfillment. While not

revisionist in its impulse, this movie illustrates the ways in which Hollywood invokes

conventions at this time for sensationalism and profit. Similarly, Geronimo's Last Raid

(1912) has a very negatively stereotypical Geronimo take two white lovers captive as part

of his larger depredations. In the process, the pair of captives manages to escape, thereby

reinforcing conventional roles of captivity: violent red captors, submissive white

captives, and resourceful male captives/rescuers. At this same time, as we saw above,

Morrow directly confronts and revises such conventional formulations in The Heart of

the Desert (1912).









Other movies from this period offer revisionist representations of captivity, such as

Daniel Boone (1907) in which a Native woman helps Boone rescue his two daughters

from their captors and The Redman and the Child (1908) which depicts a Native man

rescuing a white child from white outlaw captors before finally taking the child away to

live with him at the movie's end. Ince also produces An Indian's Bride (1909) in which

Little Bear must rescue his white lover from Mexican captors before finally agreeing to

assimilate in order to obtain her father's blessings for their impending marriage. Tuska

considers this a remarkable production, given the larger climate against miscegenation at

this time (American West 251). These movies obviously redefine reductive responses to

captivity by offering alternatives to the standard representation--revisions which

emphasize the humanity and compassion of these red captives and rescuers.

However, much more characteristic of this period is the sentimentality and

melodrama of White Fawn's Devotion (1910). There, a white Englishman living with an

anonymous tribal woman (White Fawn?) and their daughter in the wilds of the West,

receives word that he has inherited a fortune and must return to England. Upon receiving

this news, White Fawn chooses to commit suicide rather than leave her homeland or

allow her daughter to leave. The daughter assumes that her anguished father committed

murder and informs the local chieftain, who mounts a party to apprehend the murderer.

A lengthy chase ensues, in which one stalwart warrior finally captures the man and drags

him back to the camp. There, his captivity resonates with John Smith's, by having his

bound form spread over a sacrificial rock. Then, the movie rearticulates these

conventions by having the chief insist that daughter slay her father as justice. During his

instructions, he continually cuffs her head forcing her to commit the crime. And in true









tradition, White Fawn arrives just at the moment of his execution to explain her case and

plead for his life (again reintroducing Pocahontas elements). The chief then informs the

trio they must leave--to where we never know, but captivity conventions rush in and

resolve everything.

While these movies directly revise standard images of captivity and Native peoples,

other movies from this same period engage captivity in ways that inform a corollary to

these standards: the dark other as captor. As we have seen, and will continue to see, in

these apparently standard representations, new definitions of captivity emerge which

challenge previous ones. For example, Cecile B. DeMille's The Captive (1915, infamous

for one of its actors' dying from a stray bullet during filming) deals with European war.

This ambiguous title both invokes previous standard definitions of captivity by Native

Americans. By expanding the definition of captivity to other non-red peoples, the movie

invites audiences to reconsider the constructedness of captivity.

Finally, the context of captivity expands even further in contemporary

rearticulations of captivity. Many critics have already documented the public interest in

prostitution, white slavery, and their corollary with captivity that pervade the early

decades of the twentieth century.21 The sensational success of Traffic In Souls (1913)

indicates the general public's interest in this constellation. We can gauge this interest by

the fact that this dramatization of the John D. Rockefeller Report on prostitution grosses a

half a million dollars before its close. This movie's redefinitions of captivity invoke





21 Cf. particularly: Kevin Brownlow's Behind the Mask; Annette Kuhn's Cinema, Censorship and
Sexuality: 1909-1925; Eric Schaefer's "Bold! Daring! Shocking! True!": A History of Exploitation
Movies, 1919-1959; Kay Sloan's The Loud Silents: The Origins of the Social Protest Movie; and Frank
Thompson's Lost Movies: Important Movies That Disappeared.









captivity-as-context to emphasize both the relativity of the captors and the fact that

captivity continues to occur at the present time.

Comics

Conventional images of captivity abound in comics at this time as well, though

most often in a negative way. One example occurs in Frederick Opper's Alphonse and

Gaston weekly strip (1903) which elides the differences between their captivity by

African cannibals and captivity by Native Americans (Blackbeard 51). Such reduction

informs the general perceptions of captivity and captors promoted by such images--a

rhetorical strategy explicitly illustrated by the parallelism in scenes elsewhere, as in the

infamous broadsheet of Mary Godfrey's captivity (1836).

Such conventional uses of captivity also occur in places where innovation and

revision are hallmarks--Winsor McCay's Little Nemo in Slumberland. In one installment

of his widely popular strip (Sunday,7 January 1906), McCay uses standardized rhetoric to

represent captivity, and in so doing collapses racial categories in ways that echo Opper

and others He uses sensationalized images of Indians capturing a next door neighbor girl

and menacing Nemo during her rescue. He even represents the Indians as a horde of

simianesque caricatures whose features also reference contemporary negative images of

African(American)s in a general devaluation of Otherness, before he has them riddle

Nemo with arrows as he falls back into consciousness. No innovation here from an artist

synonymous with the term, just reiteration of standard imagery, as he does throughout the

strip when he references captivity.22 As these examples reveal, revisionists are intensely

engaged at many fronts in their strategy to rearticulate captivity and Native identity.


2 Other examples include his pages from: 2 June 1907, 30 August 1908, and 28 August 1910. Cf.
Little Nemo, 1905-1914: pp. 94, 159, and 263 respectively.









Children's Literature

Current Context

Thus far we have seen several children's literature pieces enacting revisionist

strategies. In particular we have profiled Ellis' Wolf Ear (1900), Reid's works, and

O'Henry's "Ransom of Red Chief' (1906). As these works reveal, children's literature

authors are as engaged with revisionism as are authors of adult literature and other

genres. Another major author at this time enacting his form of revision is the Seton's

novel does not advance any significant revisionist agenda. However, like them, it does

offer a graphematic gesture that confronts conventional imagery through its excessive

construction of that convention.

Ernest Thompson Seton's Two Little Savages, 1903

At the same time that Remington, White, and Schultz are advancing their

revisionist agendas, Earnest Thompson Seton is creating his adventure books for

children. Perhaps best known as the founder of the Boy Scouts of America, Seton also is

a prolific author. One of his earliest books, Two Little Savages (1903), affords us the

opportunity once again to see how children's literature at this time is performing many of

the same functions as adult literature and movie. Sam (Great Woodpecker) and Yan

(Little Beaver) take to the woods to play Indians, or rather live as Indians. They have

become enamored of Indian lifestyle from the books they have read, and so decide to

enact their fantasy. The create their own tribe, the Sangers, and otherwise indulge their

fantasies. When plagued by a neighbor boy, Guy, they capture him, then bind him to a

torture pole (219-31). The chant that they will ". .burn him at the stake with horrid

torture!" They conduct a protracted ceremony of "torture," verbal rather than physical

abuse, finally adopting him with the name Sappy. They will recount Sappy's bravery









while being tortured as a captive, before making him their new chief (439-40). Later,

Yan leads a "massacre" of his own family--a raid of the pantry in which he mocks axing

his baby sister Minnie. His mother watches the proceedings, then leaves him the

following note: "Notice to hostile Injuns--Next time you massacre this settlement, bring

back the pail, and don't leave the covers off the milk pans" (285).

Captivity, to this point, has been a comical farce--an exaggerated fantasy conducted

by boys playing Indian. Since captivity is no longer a "real" possibility, the boys can

safely indulge in it as fantasy. Moreover, captivity lends further authenticity to their

fantasy. However, fantasy becomes reality when the three-fingered tramp invades the

boys' camp, demanding food and beating them. Yan manages to escape this all too real

captivity and, in turn, captures the tramp (484). They bind him to a tree, as they had

Sappy and as "real" Indians would do their captives. However, their captive manages to

slip his bonds. Arguably, their play-captivity serves them well when they need to enact a

real captivity.

Native American Literature

Charles A. Eastman and Elaine Goodale Eastman

While these Anglo authors and artists argue for revising the conventional rhetoric

which denigrates Native peoples and relegates captivity to a simplistic act of violence,

Native American authors are also actively producing revisionist works. For example,

Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa) orchestrates his own strategic counters to racist

representations of Native peoples and captivity, ostensibly within the contexts of

children's literature. As part of his larger agenda to promote interracial understanding

between Native and Anglo peoples, Eastman writes Wigwam Evenings (1909). There,









his narrator Smoky Day relates his version of Turtle's War Party, which draws heavily on

this traditional story complex's use of captivity.

In this version, Turtle organizes a war party composed of Live Coals, Ashes, the

Bulrush, the Grasshopper, the Dragonfly, and the Pickerel. As they "advanced bravely

into the country of the enemy" (36), each member of the party meets with an abrupt

ending-Live Coals extinguished by the river, Bulrush planted in the river mud,

Grasshopper stuck in some mud and losing his legs in the process, Dragonfly so

overcome with grief at Grasshopper's death that he dies-until only Pickerel and Turtle

are left alive. Each time that one of the party dies, the others make some disparaging

remark about his inability as a warrior. Then as Pickerel and Turtle advance into the

enemy territory, they are surrounded. Pickerel escapes by swimming away, but Turtle is

captured because of his slowness. "They took him to the village, and there the head men

held a council to decide what should be done with him" (36). As each council member

proposes a new torture, Turtle responds by claiming "That is the "brave death I would

choose!" He then details how he would: "trample the fire, and scatter the coals among

the people" if they were to "roast him alive"; "dance in the boiling pit, and clouds of

steam will arise and blind the eyes of the people." Finally, he escapes.

The Eastmans contextualize the individual tales in this collection as allegories that

reflect the high degree of morality maintained among traditional Lakota peoples,

especially through such didactic devices. They weave a narrative verification of this

claim by having their readers watch the ways in which his audience, even Teona and

Waola, mature under the effects of the telling. Captivity, then becomes an integral

portion of these characters' didactic experience. In this way the Eastmans simultaneously









illustrate their claim for Lakota morality while countering claims that such Native

American traditional tales and values are simply the manifestations of a savage or

childlike culture. Moreover, they perform the same sort of didactic function on their

Anglo readers by having them realize this mutuality. Captivity, then, serves to unite

rather than divide people.

Turtle's War Party Traditions

Turtle's War Party reappears in many different tribes, but with much of the same

plot and details as in Eastman's version. For example, the Omaha "How Big Turtle Went

on the Warpath" and "Great-Turtle on the Warpath" (Welsch 203-16, 128-38) are

virtually identical. Elsewhere, it retains the same plot and characters, but then ends as an

explanatory tale in the Lakota tale "Turtle" (Deloria 77-80) and the Seneca version

(Parker 159-64). An Arapaho version combines these two functions with a twist by

having Turtle, Wart, Vulva, and Penis appear as the characters and then explain the

function of sexual organs (Dorsey and Kroeber 486). An Iroquois version ends with

Turtle's satisfaction with being a turtle (Bierhorst 31-36). From this brief survey, we can

see how central this story is to both traditional Native narrative traditions, but also its

centrality to Native captivity narrative traditions.

This tradition adopts various forms, but essentially performs two main functions.

First, these traditions perform didactic functions that encourage and instruct audiences in

the ways to survive their own potential captivities (from resisting tortures to resourcefully

planning their own escapes). Second, they provide models that necessarily represent the

range of possible captivity experiences, thereby forestalling any reductive trend that

might make captivity into a political tool justifying genocide.









Examples abound. For example, PreContact captivity narratives and their

representations occur in Moche art and the Popal Vuh.23 We can also see them in

Sixteenth Century French Florida and Spanish Mexico (Laudonniere, 76-77, 85-86 and

Clendinnen). In more recent accounts, we find a half dozen different symbols of

captivity from a wide range of tribes including Ogllalas and Aztecs (Mallery 598-600);

Nineteenth Century Blackfoot and Sacree painted robes represent narrate captivity (e.g.

Running Rabbit's robe and Calf Child's accounts in Brownstone 46-49, 67); Flying

Hawk's winter count designating the year 1843 as Wikaya aklipi, "When they brought in

captives" (McCreight 167). Elsewhere, we find examples of traditional captivity

practices and its narratives in James Mooney's accounts of Seneca captives among the

Cherokee (351-62) and the Omaha tale "Forty Warriors" (Welsch 186-90). The

complexities of interracial captivity appear in Lucas Vasquez de Ayoll6n's attempts to

found a colony along the Pee Dee River in eastern South Carolina in 1526 (Katz 22-23).

In short, countless examples exist detailing and proving the existence of continuous and

varied captivity narrative traditions among Native peoples for several centuries.24

Authors like Eastman, Hum-ishu-ma, Silko and Welch draw on these to amplify their

(re)tellings of that tradition.

Geronimo

Similar sorts of revisionist arguments about captivity and identity appear in

Geronimo's as-told-to biography (1906). There, S. M. Barrett provides extensive

accounts of traditional Apache perspectives on captivity. In the process, readers realize a

2 See Tedlock pp. 170 and 182 for visual representations and pp. 136-38 for verbal descriptions of
Hunaphpa's capture and sacrifice of Xbalanque.
2 Here, I briefly recount my research about this tradition, which I am currently submitting for
publication under the title "Native American Captivity Narrative Traditions and the Case for Revising
Canons."









Geronimo who is very human, and an Apache people who are equally so. This revision

occurs primarily through images of captivity. For example, Geronimo contrasts the

treatment of Apache captives by Mexican captors and Mexican captives by Apache

captors: "We never chained our prisoners or kept them in confinement [as the Mexicans

had done], but they seldom got away. Mexican men when captured were compelled to

cut wood and herd horses. Mexican women and children were treated as our own

people" (67-68). He also includes stories of Apache women rescuing themselves from

their Mexican captors, a point to which we shall return in the next chapter. In short,

Barrett and Geronimo uses captivity to revise conventional reductions of captivity and

Native identity--particularly captivity by Apaches and Apache identity, since these are

the savage extremes of both.

Current Context

With similar revisionist agendas, E. Pauline Johnson's fictional pieces advance

revisionist images of Native identity. "As It Was in the Beginning" (1913) unrelentingly

and intentionally confronts contemporary prejudice against Native peoples. Given her

wide publication and celebrity (particularly in Canada and Great Britain) during her

lifetime, Johnson obviously intends such fictional pieces to radically revise images of

Native peoples, and, in this case, revise perspectives on Indian Boarding Schools, just as

Louise Erdrich will do so pointedly in her poetry later--redefining them as places of

captivity not of capability.

At this same time Hum-ishu-ma finishes Cogewa (1927) in 1914 with the intent of

altering popular misperceptions of Native peoples. As we shall see in the next chapter,

captivity is central to that novel's agenda. Since it is not published until the next decade,

we will suspend our discussion of it until then.






79


This survey indicates the ways in which these works extend the possibilities of

positive Native American identity and interracial community through their revisionist

uses of captivity. Add to this works by authors like Remington, White, and Grey, as we

have seen, and we begin to see how the "origin" of Western fiction is inextricably bound

to rearticulating captivity for revisionist purposes. As we shall see in the next chapter,

this revisionary aspect drives much of the forms and functions of other media and genres

as well.














CHAPTER 3
THE TWENTIES

"Good! It is even better than I could have believed. In my wildest dreams I never
hoped to see a white man suffer such unmerited torture. In time, perhaps, you will
come to a degree of sympathy for an Indian, and to understand, a little, his feeling
toward the white race."

--Harold Bell Wright,
The Mine with the Iron Door

Had it been a matter only of trusting herself to him alone, perhaps she would not
have hesitated; but there were the other members of his tribe--the squaws. She had
heard stories of the cruelties of the squaws toward white women--and Geronimo!
She recalled every hideous atrocity that had ever been laid at the door of this
terrible old man, and she shrank from the thought of permitting herself to be taken
to his hidden den and delivered into his cruel and bloody hands. ...

"I know why you afraid," said Shoz-Dijiji presently. "You hear bad stories about
Apaches. You hear much talk, bad talk; but always from mouths of enemies of
Apache. You wait. You see how Apache treat friend. You no be afraid. You
savvy?"

--Edgar Rice Burroughs,
The War Chief

Unlike movies from this period, fiction from the Twenties offers a constant and

consistent level of revisionist argument. Many authors promote revisionist positions,

despite stiff opposition from editorial policies that severely limit such positions. Some,

like Max Brand, offer extended series of novels arguing for revisions of Native identity

and captivity. Others, like Oliver LaFarge, offer single arguments. Regardless of the

amount each author offers, together they offer a concerted strategy that supports itself

from these authors' popular stature and the wide availability of their works. However, all

of these authors must work against institutionalized policies of racism and popularized

media like movies that promote conventional definitions of Native identity and captivity.









Fiction

Stewart Edward White's Daniel Boone: Wilderness Scout, 1921

One example of revisionist captivity rhetoric from early in this decade occurs in a

seemingly unlikely place, Stewart Edward White's biography Daniel Boone: Wilderness

Scout (1921). Now, at one level, this revisionism may not seem so unlikely, given that

White had written "The Girl Who Got Rattled" (1904) almost two decades before. But,

at other levels, White's extensive and explicit endorsement of Native peoples, given

Boone's experiences with captivity, indicates the depth of his revisionist agenda.

In this biography, White offers numerous pages arguing for the humanity of Native

peoples. He argues that the historical record often reflects the political agendas of

imperialist image makers, rather than the actual circumstances, as seen in the treatment of

captives by both whites and reds (e.g. 75-79). In these pages, white captors are as equally

cruel to red captives as red captors are to white captives. By specifically exploring the

reality behind the myths of captivity, White uses captivity as a means to revise readers'

images of Native peoples from ignoble and noble savages to people.

Given that he originally wrote this book for the Boy Scouts of America, arguably

White intends to modify the opinions of both his contemporary child audience

(specifically those male youths whose identity as Scouts derived much from Boone's

iconoclastic image as progressive pioneer) and of future generations as his audience

matures into adulthood and is replaced by the next. Additionally, because the book is

reprinted over the next decades for audiences outside the Scouts, other audiences and

publishers accept and promote White's revisionist philosophy for decades after his

original reformulation. This particular reissue coincides with the height of the Davy

Crockett craze initiated by Disney (in this particular case in 1957, a year after the craze









began). As critics like Lafaro argue, the conflation of these two frontiersmen indicates

the power of the media to shape audiences but also provides added impetus for audiences

to explore revisionist venues like White's biography. Finally, this book currently exists

on library shelves, indicating that White's work still exerts its revisionary potential today.

Hamlin Garland's The Book of the Indian, 1923

At roughly this same time, celebrated Native rights activist Hamlin Garland is

publishing his final formulation of his reformist agenda. Garland uses captivity as a

metaphor throughout his The Book of the Indian. This strategy allows us to explore his

Indian Rights fiction in terms other than the binaries established by William Meyers and

Owen Reamer's faulting Garland's Indian fiction for its substantial lack of ethnographic

and biographical authenticity and its ultimate lack of formal aesthetics.1 Such a position

extends the reorientation argued by Jack Davis about Garland's questioning the impact of

acculturation to Native peoples. Moreover, by seeing how Garland uses a revisionist

position on captivity and Native identity issues, we come to realize how central this work

is to his overall agenda of reforming Anglo/Native relations.

Since many critics have previously examined in detail the genealogy of Garland's

texts on Native issues, I will only briefly sketch it here. Garland's shift from a Western

progressive ideology to one that was more critical of that imperialism arises from his

tours of Western tribal lands and reservations in 1890. From this exposure Garland

quickly inaugurates a campaign to reform what he perceives as the reservation system's



1 Reamer perpetuates this prejudice when he argues that "Perhaps because Garland saw the plight of
Indians in the 1890's, while he was still in the first flush of enthusiasm as a reformer, he identified their
cause with that of other downtrodden folk. If nothing else, he considered them a part of the glorious early
days on the frontier, the passing of which he was already coming to regret. If he could help his red brother
in any way, he would. If not, he could plead the red man's cause by enshrining him in fiction as he then
was, for future generations to contemplate" (285).









primary abuses, formalized in his article "The Red Man's Present Needs" and

fictionalized in his The Captain of the Grey Horse Troop, both of which appear in 1902.

These two pieces mark the apex of public reception for his works aimed at reforming

reservation abuses.2

But this year marks the point at which his potential effectiveness as a political

reformer in Washington, a role encouraged by then President Teddy Roosevelt, is at its

highest. However, Garland soon plummets from this height, toppled by the bureaucratic

neglect and dismissal his policy changes encounter. Within a few years his texts aimed at

reforming reservation abuses vanish from these internal Washington circles, circles with

negative attitudes echoing Senator's Brisbane's condemnation scene from The Captain of

the Gray-Horse Troop: "'Human beings!' sneered Brisbane 'they are nothing but a greasy

lot of vermin-worthless from every point of view. Their rights can't stand in the way of

civilization'" (126).

To counter such bigotry, Garland writes several pieces representing the humanity

of his Native subjects as well as more formal attacks like "The Red Man's Present

Needs" (1902). In A Daughter of the Middle Border he declares "We have had plenty of

the 'wily redskin' kind of thing" and so he would author its counter. From this basis

Garland envisions a larger revisionist project, which eventually becomes The Book of the

American Indian, but at present his focus is on the immediate body of works countering

those conventions.





2 Before this time, he had contributed several shorter pieces like "The Eagle's Heart" (Saturday
Evening Post, 8 September 1900). He continues to contribute pieces even after publication of The Book of
the American Indian, like "Drifting Crane" (Argosy, January 1930).









His "editorial friends" fault them for their overly sympathetic portrayal of Native

peoples. For example, Meyer notes that initially "The Silent Eaters" fails to be published

because of "a lack of public interest in Indian material" and its length (309). This same

lack of interest keeps it from being published until Harpers anthologizes it along with

some previously published pieces, but their packaging illustrates how two decades later

publishers still did not view Garland's reformative position as economically viable. Such

a position does not coincide with more dominant modes of reconstructing a Western

experience in which Natives are reducible to neat categories of savagery-whether noble

or ignoble. In his reconstructed remarks, Garland replies to such detractors with an

explicit statement of his reformative intent: "My stories take the cruelty and dirt and sloth

of camp life for granted-such facts have been sufficiently dwelt upon. I have drawn the

tender and humorous side of their lives as well as the patiently heroic side" (Companions

on the Trail 48).

1902 also marks the year in which Garland formally plans, according to his

notebooks, to publish "A Book of Indian Tales," that will become The Book of the

American Indian (Reamer 302). The Book of the American Indian collects pieces

previously published (e.g. "The Story of Howling Wolf" [1903]) as well as his longer

unpublished project ("The Silent Eaters"). Together these pieces represent a formalized

statement of his reformist views, though by the time of their publication as The Book of

the Indian he has become a minor voice in reformist issues. Yet this final statement of

his views provides major rearticulations of conventional images. Finally, it represents

Garland's unwavering belief in the ability of his writings to cause audiences to precipitate

reform of current relations between Anglo and Native Americans.









However, when he seeks a publisher, he finds steady opposition to his project.

Somehow, he manages to sell the project to Harpers, and the book finally appears almost

two decades after its initial creation. When it does, he explicitly objects to the

publisher's choice of Frederick Remington illustrations, because he views them as

perpetuating the stereotypes that he intends his verbal texts to counter (cf. Reamer 289).

Remington's other visual representations of captivity (e.g. Captured, 1899) support

Garland's objections, as we have seen above. Despite Garland's objections, Harpers

decides to include Remington's work, though twenty or thirty years old, as a means to

increase sales of Garland's book. This editorial move illustrates the general

marginalization that Garland has encountered for his project from its beginning. From

this and other obstacles that he, Burroughs, Brand, and Hum-ishu-ma face, we can

characterize this period as one of opposition to such reformative works.

Despite these conventional codings, Garland succeeds in communicating his

message. To do so, he highlights the revisionist impulse of The Book of the American

Indian through literal and figurative images of captivity. Garland deploys captivity not as

an act distinguishing "good" Indians from bad ones, but as an act distinguishing

traditional tribal perspectives from dominating governmental ones. In The Book of the

American Indian the U.S. government is the one who captures, in the name of formally

instituted assimilationist policies. By so characterizing the government, its policies, and

those made to suffer under them as captors, captivity, and captives respectively, Garland

actively reinvents these notions of captivity to indict those policies and the government

that institutes them. He also represents traditional perspectives on captivity as part of his

larger agenda to recontextualize Native peoples and their cultures as legitimate without









Anglo American authorization. To do so, he chooses as his vehicle a series of short

stories, which together present a continuous message of revisionism.

He launches this strategy from the opening line of"Nitsina": "There was

lamentation on the lodges of Sunmaker's people, for the white soldiers had taken away

the guns of Hawk's young warriors, and now they were to be sent away into lands of

captivity" (15). He echoes this rhetoric when he describes their departure: "... and the

hopeless captives moved slowly out across the prairie" (16). Garland heightens the

sympathy of his readers for these captives by having Nitsina learn to write so that she can

communicate her love and fidelity to Hawk, who, along with the other warriors, is being

held captive in Florida. Such formulations equate reservation life with captivity, an

ongoing state from which the captives have no hope of rescue--except through revising

popular opinion. Garland returns to this revisionist rhetoric later in "The Silent Eaters"

There, Chapter Six of this story explicitly equates reservation life with captivity through

its title "In Captivity" (204-15).

Garland continues recontextualizing Native peoples on reservations as captives in

"The Iron Khiva." There, he dramatizes the insensitive desire of Anglo Protestantism to

obliterate Native (here, Pueblo) values in the name of progressive assimilation. This

story ends with the tragic deaths of two youths appointed to go east, who kill themselves

rather than face their captivity. Only at this point does the commander relinquish his

desire to force the Pueblos to assimilate: "... these men of the East were planning to carry

their children into captivity" (31). The threat of such captivity empowers the Pueblo to

oppose those policies: "We were willing that our children should go down to the Iron

Khiva-til now-now when you threaten to steal them and carry them afar into captivity









where we can never see them again, we rebel. We will fight! Of what value is life

without children?" (32). Despite their willingness to fight, the Pueblos here finally

relinquish: "In the morning we must take the lads to their captors" (33). Garland has

used captivity and the Pueblo's reactions to it to underscore the relativity of conventional

constructions of captivity.

In keeping with his larger agenda, Garland represents traditional tribal perspectives

on captivity as in the story of Old Sun's Wife. He recounts the story of a female captive

who takes her captivity literally into her own hands. When she was "a mere maid," she

was "kidnapped" by the Gros Ventres chief, whom she stabbed within sight of his village,

thereby earning her the right to wear three eagle feathers and sufficiently elevating her

value for Old Sun, who makes her his wife. To illustrate this story, the editors choose

Remington's illustration of a woman knifing her captor on horseback. This illustration

originally appears in Harper's Magazine, December 1891, for "Chartering a Nation" by

Julian Ralph. This decision illustrates the earlier points Garland raised about the

Remingtons. Elsewhere, Garland uses captivity to define a character's extreme kindness,

and in so doing provides an image of red-on-red captivity. In "The Remorse of

Waumdisapa," he describes Waumdisapa in these terms: "No one feared him-not even

the children of the captive Ute woman who served Iapa-and yet he had gained his

preeminence by virtue of great deeds as well as by strong and peaceful thoughts" (113-

14).

As these numerous examples illustrate, Garland creates intricate rearticulations of

captivity conventions in The Book of the Indian. He covers an extremely wide range of

possibilities to highlight the narrow focus of conventional images and to effect a change









in the determination such a focus exercises. He intends to broaden the perspectives of

audiences on captivity and Native peoples, thereby correcting prior misperceptions and

facilitating future relations. Although Garland will continue to argue for reform and

author numerous works, like Prairie Song and Western Story (1928), he will not author

any significant pieces like The Book of the Indian again. Given the extremes that

Garland faces in realizing its publication, this collection represents a defiant voice

opposing the reductivism instituted and institutionalized by publishers at this time. As

such, it is a prominent rearticulation of those codes, not the minor, final note in a

reformist's range that many critics designate it as.

Harold Bell Wright's The Mine with the Iron Door,1923

In Mine with the Iron Door (1923), Harold Bell Wright ultimately uses

conventional images of captivity and Native identity to endorse a Christian ethos. In the

process, he performs other revisionary strategies that complicate such a neat

reformulation. The result resembles other authors, like Morrow and Grey, who embed

oppositional codes in an apparently conventional argument so that readers can revise their

own positions relative to those conventions. Wright modifies the then-popular theme of

birth-mystery plots and Indians who know the secret of lost mines through his deliberate

use of stereotyped images of Native people and captivity to reveal their construction.

Having performed this revisionist feat, he then recontextualizes his formulation within a

Christian context--thereby arguing for the ultimate justification of those values.

To do so, Wright first introduces Natachee as a devious retrograde who has rejected

his Eastern education and plunged blindly back into his traditional lifestyle-so much so

that he alone inhabits the canyons away from his and white people. He tells Edwards, the

white male protagonist, when they first meet: "What I learned there [in the white man's