On the painter & showman George Catlin, documentarist of the now quite lost 19th century Native America, & appended with a small gallery of the artist's work...

So, if you've followed along thus far then you know too well that I've been reading an abridged edition of The Journals of Lewis and Clark; and it has proved very satisfactory to present here many of the interesting details recorded within its pages.  Of course this is often accompanied by much of my sometimes lighthearted, sometimes very earnest commentary, and so I mean this very much in the latter sense when I add that I hope you enjoy it all as much as I do...

One thing I find especially compelling about the journals is that they open an incredible window into a world that no longer exists, but once truly did; a world then as now quite alien.  In penning and posting these essays, I find myself turning again and again to the paintings of George Catlin for their illustration.  He's a natural (and I think equally fascinating) choice for the task:  like Lewis and Clark, his work is also primarily documentary in nature and it, too, offers a glimpse into a world that has long since disappeared.  And furthermore it was Catlin's prescient sense of its impermanence that spurred the artist to document Native America in what has become one of our most exceptional, expansive bodies of American painting.

Catlin's work is particularly apropos to the endeavors of Lewis and Clark since so much of it was painted not too long after the expedition's original journey, the documentation produced by the two parties often overlaps the same tribal cultures, and Catlin himself even accompanied the later-career William Clark in a diplomatic mission up the Mississippi river in 1830.  I think he's apropos to Amicus Curiositatis, too - specifically because he was not just a painter but also played the roles of collector, curator, and showman; Coupling his paintings with an equally impressive array of indigenous artifacts (and even live indigenous peoples themselves), he created a sort of traveling cabinet of curiosities that toured the United States and continued to even greater reception in Europe.   George Catlin was, in fact, himself an amicus curiositatis, and an amicus rerum mirabilium to boot...

Portrait of No-ho-mun-ya, or "One Who Gives No Attention" -  Iowa tribe, 1844
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum

No-ho-mun-ya accompanied Catlin to Europe and died in Liverpool before the exhibition departed for Paris.

So then you see, I think he's a good match all around - as both illustrator and subject as well.  And as I wind down the meditations on Lewis and Clark,  I want to share more of his terrific paintings and think, too, that a short biography of the painter is in order:

George Catlin was born in Pennsylvania in 1796, where his interest in Native Americana was piqued in childhood from, among other things, listening to his mother's tales of her own frontier childhood and capture by Indians.   Later Catlin studied law and apparently never actually received much formal art training; but at some point in his early adulthood he was struck with a sense of the impermanence of the Native American - as they looked and lived and were then, which is to say their existence as an unaffected, autonomous culture - and in a stunningly life-changing move, he left law and headed to the western frontier.  

Catlin took it upon himself to document the appearance, style, and presence of the Native American.  In 1830 he accompanied Clark up the Mississippi and soon after made then-frontiersy St. Louis his base for subsequent artistic expeditions along the rivers and into the lands of numerous indigenous tribes - including many that we encounter in the Lewis & Clark journals, such as the Mandan, the Hidatsa, the Blackfeet, and so forth.  The result of his artistic output during the 1830s was a stunning collection of six hundred plus paintings that read today like bright Polaroids of a past mostly gone to shadow.

George Catlin not only collected painted imagery but also the artifacts and handicrafts of the Native American tribal civilizations among whom he traveled and worked.  In the 1840s, he amassed together both paintings and artifacts and took his "Indian Gallery" back east.  The exhibition was supplemented with Catlin's own lectures and even the presence of actual Native Americans themselves.  It is often noted that the paintings were hung in salon style, which is to say the walls were fairly paved with canvases - hung closely next to one another, above one another, and so forth.  Definitely a far cry from the style of today, where museums bewilderingly seem to pride themselves on how little of their collection is actually on display.

"Ah-móu-a, The Whale, One of Kee-o-kúk's Principal Braves" Sac and Fox tribe, 1835
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum

Catlin's Indian Gallery never proved as profitable as he had hoped.  Eventually he packed up the collection - live Indians and all - and headed for a tour of Europe, where by default appetites for the curiosities of  Native America were significantly less-sated.  The poet Charles Baudelaire wrote upon seeing the exhibition in Paris: "M. Catlin has captured the proud, free character and noble expression of these splendid fellows in a masterly way......"   Though I think it should also be noted that at this time, in the interest of further enhancing the expensive-to-maintain production, Catlin took to dressing Caucasians in American Indian costume and presented them in various tableau vivant-style vignettes.  So really, I'm not sure that anyone today (or then) is exactly sure what they hell they were looking at, in Paris, in the 1840s.  But pretty exotic entertainment in a world before television and internet, one has to admit!

Financial troubles persisted, and though he had tried consistently but unsuccessfully to sell his collection en masse to the United States government, eventually Catlin was forced to sell his 607 paintings to private hands.  They were purchased in 1852 by the wealthy industrialist Joseph Harrison, who unfortunately kept them not on public display but stored away in a factory.  However, the collection remained more or less in tact.

Besides this initial body of work from the 1830's, Catlin produced other collections, such as an extensive series of engravings for the 1841 publication of his Manners, Customs, and Condition of the North American Indians, as well as two other subsequent publications.  Additionally there is also what is known as his "cartoon collection": produced after relinquishing the initial bulk of paintings to Harrison, Catlin set out to recreate them - working not from life as with the originals but from preparatory sketches and outlines done for his work in the 1830s.  Today the nearly complete collection of original paintings is held by the Smithsonian American Art Museum, and the American Museum of Natural History in New York also holds 700 of Catlin's sketches.  His work is in the collections of several other museums and enjoyed by many.  As the website for Gilrcrease Museum - home to an extensive American Indian and Western art collection in Tulsa, Oklahoma, notes:  "Indians loved him.  Catlin's authentic portraits and depictions of the natives' culture and lifestyle are enlightening and fun..."



"Comanche Village, Women Dressing Robes and Drying Meat" 1834–35

From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum

So really, I think there is something rather inspiring about this individual.  He left behind what would have undoubtedly have been a very comfortable, conventional career in law and struck out - talented but basically untrained - into what was otherwise an unknown, unprescribed life.  And much of it was lived beyond the borders of what was then considered civilized.  He had an idea and an urge - to see and to capture -and in following those inner impulses throughout his life, he had by his death in 1872 created what was to become a stellar and essentially priceless assemblage of historical and ethnographic knowledge, much beloved and relied upon by many generations since. (Wow!) And you know, through both prosperous times and difficult, he made the most of what he had to work with and, from what I can see, stayed on the path: stayed true to himself and his vision.  So there is probably something we all can learn from this George Catlin.

- a.t.s.

 So, all of that said, let's look at some paintings...

"Wash-ka-mon-ya, Fast Dancer, a Warrior"  Iowa tribe, 1843
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

"Náh-se-ús-kuk, Whirling Thunder, Eldest Son of Black Hawk"  Sac and Fox tribe, 1832
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

 

"Bird's-eye View of the Mandan Village, 1800 Miles above St. Louis" Mandan/Numakiki tribe,  1837–39
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

It is interesting to note that the Lewis & Clark expedition spent its first winter camped among the Mandans who lived (or at least wintered) on the Missouri river.  I imagine their architecture wouldn't have changed much in the following 30 or so years, so it's a fair assumption to say this is what the explorers themselves saw daily.

"Back View of Mandan Village, Showing the Cemetery"  Mandan/Numakiki tribe, 1832
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

The Mandan did not bury their dead but left the bodies to decompose on raised scaffolding.  Once they are clean and sun-bleached, the skulls were arranged in large, geometric circles.

Eeh-nís-kim, Crystal Stone, Wife of the Chief,  Blackfoot/Kainai tribe 1832
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

When Lewis & Clark passed back through in 1806 other tribes had warned them that the Blackfeet were the terror of the neighborhood, and indeed their passage was not without incident.  Looks like they chilled out a little in the interim.  Although I have never been a big fan of the name Crystal, I can handle it on her.

 "Buffalo Bulls Fighting in Running Season, Upper Missouri" 1837–39
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Apparently during this season literally thousands of buffalo congregated together.  The buffalo are today an occasional, ornamental novelty and this land is probably an under-occupied subdivision thrown up during the housing bubble...

 

"The White Cloud, Head Chief of the Iowas"  1844-45

 From the National Gallery of Art, Paul Mellon Collection.

This Catlin portrait was made into a postage stamp in 1998.

"Bull Dance, Mandan O-kee-pa Ceremony"  Mandan/Numakiki tribe,1832
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

"La-dóo-ke-a, Buffalo Bull, a Grand Pawnee Warrior"  Pawnee tribe, 1832
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

"Wi-jún-jon, Pigeon's Egg Head (The Light), Going to and Returning from Washington" 

Assiniboine/Nakoda tribe, 1837-39

From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Going, going....  Wi-jún-jon went to meet then President Andrew Jackson and spent 18 months in the United States.  Upon his return home he was filled with, writes the Smithsonian and quoting Catlin, "astonishing accounts of the white man’s cities. They eventually rejected his stories as 'ingenious fabrication of novelty and wonder,' and his persistence in telling such 'lies' eventually led to his murder."   Poor Wi-jún-jon didn't fare too well either in this portrait.

"Cú-sick, Son of the Chief"  Tuscarora tribe, circa 1837–39
From the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

...and Gone.  Cú-sick has been educated in the U.S. and is now both a Baptist preacher and, according to Catlin, "a very eloquent speaker."

(I am indebted to the Smithsonian American Art Museum for the better part of these images.  To further explore their much more extensive collection, and I highly recommend it, check out  "Campfire Stories with George Catlin : Encounters of Two Cultures" .  Additionally, Wikipedia was consulted in the construction of this essay.)

Omnivore's Delight; Or, A short history of dog eating in North America...

It occurs to me that we Americans, when presented with the idea of eating a dog, tend reflexively to call to our minds certain Asian cultures where the practice is decidedly not as taboo as it is here in the States.  Usually it's the Koreans that take the spotlight, but the Vietnamese and Chinese are certainly known to sup on the pup as well.  Maybe it was the television series M.A.S.H. - which was set in Korea - that helped cement the idea in the minds of a generation: to this day I still remember the folksy Colonel Potter and his pithy reference to the rover ragoût of the locals.  So, for whatever cause, Asia today has the preeminent reputation for its consumption, but it might surprise you to know that North America used to be quite the epicenter of dog eating as well, and especially who was eating it...

I first came into knowledge of an American form of the practice upon reading of Hernán Cortés' dramatic conquest of Aztec Mexico in 1521.  Apparently the Aztecs (and their many surrounding, subjugated vassals) had two primary, domesticated sources of meat: turkeys and dogs - especially a small, plump breed of dog comparable to a Chihuahua and called itzcuintlis.  It's important to note that prior to the arrival of the European, the Americas were completely void of  all those types of meat so well furnished at the grocers of today.  There were no cows, no pigs, no sheep, no chickens - all of that was introduced by the Europeans, and, inadvertently, with them the devastating poxes that these animals naturally carried and against which the unexposed native populations had little to no immunity.  Otherwise, there was also game to be hunted, such as deer and duck and whatnot, but as far as animals whose temperaments actually lent themselves to feasible domestication, it was just the turkey and the dog.  Today in Mexico the turkey is still known as guajalote. or to anglicize the pronunciation wa-ha-lo-tay, which is not Spanish but actually is derived from the old Nahautl tongue.

From a Diego Rivera mural of the Tlatelolco animal market in the Palacio Nacional, Mexico City.
Note the deer, fish, iguana, frogs, and succulent little dog.

It's also interesting to note that horses were not a part of the pre-Columbian American landscape, either.  They, too, arrived with the Spanish, and their absence and is often cited as a determining factor in why the wheel was never fully exploited by the indigenous civilizations of the Americas - since really, even if they did have a wheel, there weren't any animals to pull it anywhere.   The Incas, however, did successfully utilize the llama as a pack animals, which is small-hoofed and agile on the uneven, stepped roads that wind throughout the Andes where horses would have been practically worthless.   Otherwise if you wanted something hauled somewhere in the Americas, you pretty much had to haul it there yourself.


Speaking of hauling things yourself - and returning now to the ongoing subject of the Journals of Lewis and Clark - one really has to wonder how the two explorers and their extended party arranged to keep themselves fed over the course of a two year journey.  Their plan, as it turned out, was two-fold: to hunt and to trade, and the expedition packed quite heavily with guns and ammunition for the former and Indian-popular trade goods for the latter.  And as such the group set out into the great unknown, laden with these initial supplies and - what particularly thrills and/or gives me anxiety at the thought of - basically in loose reliance on whatever the landscape, the natives, and fate would furnish for them.  And let me tell you this: they ate it ALL...

When Lewis' and Clark's Corps of Discovery first started off the living was good.  The plains fairly teemed with rich and tasty beasts like buffalo - not too far a cry from beef, really - and the caravan was well-stocked with flour, salt, and spices for its artful preparation for table. They also brought a supply of booze to wash it all down with.  But as the landscape changed, so did the travelers' diet, and I soon learned that the expedition basically ate whatever they could get their hands on - which most often was whatever was convenient to kill.  Sacagawea was adept at foraging for native plants and roots to supplement their diet, but their mainstay staple consisted of the fresh kill, and with minimal discrimination at that.  Once the group had passed the great herds of buffalo, there was still venison to be found.  When they started to cross through territory particularly infested with very aggressive Grizzly bears, guess what they started eating.  I have no idea how that must have taste, but for once I'm guessing it wasn't like chicken.

The landscape east of the Rockies was bountiful and meaty, but when the expedition started across the difficult mountainscapes, its offerings changed.  There was still the occasional deer to be had, but in scarcer measure.  At times there was absolutely nothing for days, and the expedition, who had procured pack horses from the Shoshone after leaving behind the rivers, began to rely on horse meat as their main food source.  And once they got west of the Rockies, things really changed for them remarkably...

Salmon was a great mainstay for both the economy and the table of the Pacific Northwest Indians, among whom Lewis and Clark traveled.  Indigenous "flathead" tribes occupied the river banks where the fish swam in great plenitude, though seasonally, and the natives had a means of beating and preserving the salmon into a form that could be used for trade with other tribes for other commodities.  Besides salmon, their diet also included the smaller, smelt-like euchalon, or candlefish (that I wrote of in the earlier post Another horrible idea in home decorating), as well as foragable plants and roots, such as the quamash, from which they made a sort of bread.  This fare is what the expedition now began to eat, and the abrupt change from an almost entirely meat-based diet to one of fish and starches was acutely upsetting to their digestive systems; there was lots of illness reported as a (not necessarily immediately recognized) consequence. 

Flathead Chinook with the mighty salmon, from George Catlin, 1861.  Note the baby on her back, with its little head tucked into the flattening device...

The preserved fish was often an iffy proposition to the travelers, and some horse meat dining continued.  But another type of animal would soon enter their culinary repertoire: the dog.  Writes William Clark during his stay among the Choppunish - or Nez Perces - dated October 10th, 1805:

a miss understanding took place between Sharbono one of our interpreters and Jo & R Fields which appears to have originated in just [jest].  our diet extremely bad haveing nothing but roots and dried fish to eate,    all the Party have greatly the advantage of me, in as much as they all relish the flesh of dogs, Several of which we purchased of the nativs for to add to our store of fish and roots &c. &c.

And though Clark personally is no fan of dog meat, it becomes quite popular among the rest of the expedition.   And anyway, as we see from his entry on October 18, 1805, sometimes it really was the best one could do, especially when one's trading partners didn't have the most consistent integrity: 

The fish being very bad those which was offerd to us we had every reason to believe was taken up on the shore dead we thought proper not to purchase any,   we purchased forty dogs for which we gave articles of little value, such as beeds, bells & thimbles, of which they appeared very fond,    at 4 oClock we set out down the Great Columbia accompanied by our two old Chiefs,  one young man wished to accompany us, but we had no room for more & he could be of no service to us.

Well, William Clark may not care for the dog meat, but Meriwether Lewis and the rest of the gang can't seem to get enough of the stuff, as one can readily read in his journal entry from April 13, 1806:

I also purchased four paddles and three dogs from them with deerskins. the dog now constitutes a considerable part of our subsistence and with most of the party has become a favorite food; certain I am that it is a healthy strong diet, and from habit it has become by no means disagreeable to me, I prefer it to lean venison or Elk, and it is very superior to the horse in any state.

Buffet?  George Stubbs' Bay Horse and White Dog, circa early 1800s.  (Really, though there is a plethora of images of dog meat online - usually served Asian-style - I really must allow us to use our imaginations for at least the purpose of this post...)

As the expedition made its way westward and into winter, their diet eventually expanded to include regionally available game such as Elk, though the salmon on which so much of the region harvested disappeared from the rivers until springtime.  The group made their winter camp close to the Pacific coast - at Fort Clatsop, so named for the Indians living nearby.   And although they had succeeded in achieving their lofty goal of making it to the ocean, the road home was now too treacherous and a return journey would not be feasible until the mountain snows melted.

As the party built their fort close to the Pacific, they hoped that their stay would coincide with a visit from a trading ship so they might replenish their stock of supplies.  Thomas Jefferson had furnished them with letters of credit expressly for this opportunity, though some historians have questioned why he didn't send a U.S. ship himself to meet the party.  Unfortunately a ship never stopped during their stay and they were obliged to make do.  They were long out of liquor, and the otherwise sparseness of the larder, coupled with the excessive rains of the Pacific Northwest, made for a holiday season far less merry than hoped.  Writes Clark on their Christmas dinner of 1805:

we would have Spent this day the nativity of Christ in feasting, had we any thing either to raise our Sperits or even gratify our appetites, our Dinner concisted of pore Elk, so much Spoiled that we eate it thro' mear necessity, Some Spoiled pounded fish and a fiew roots. 

And no horse meat was available to supplement their dinner, either.  Having traversed the Rockies and again been able to return to river travel, all the horses had been left in the care of a local tribe pending the expedition's return on their journey home to the east.  I get pissy when we don't have the right kind of Christmas ham - I can only imagine how spoiled elk must have gone over...

But bleak as Christmas dinner was, Lewis' and Clark's culinary fortunes were about to change again with the introduction of a new delicacy: whale blubber.  Clark records the introduction of the blubber in his journal entry of January 3, 1806 ( and also takes a moment to note that his comrades' fondness for eating dog continues into the new year unabated):

At 11 A. M. we were visited by our near neighbour Chief or tid Co mo wool ... and six Clatsops.   they brought for Sale Some roots berries and 3 Dogs also a Small quantity of fresh blubber.   this blubber they informed us they had obtained from their neighbours the Cal la mox who inhabit the coast to the S.E.  near one of their Villages a Whale had recently perished.  this blubber the Indians eat and esteem it excellent food.  our party from necessity have been obliged to Subsist some length of time on dogs have now become extremely fond of their flesh; it is worthey of remark that while we lived principally on the flesh of this animal we were much more healthy strong and more fleshey then we have been Sence we left the Buffalow Country.  as for my own part I have not become reconsiled to the taste of this animal as yet.

Although their winter at Fort Clatsop afforded neither bounty nor luxury in terms of diet - and indeed, as we have seen from my previous essay, a greater part of the expedition did succeed in contracting venereal disease from the indigenous population, the most salient features of whom were their artificially flattened heads and odd tattoos  -  Lewis' and Clark's time by the sea did afford them a welcome opportunity to restore their salt supply.  And really, if you thought eating dog stew sucked, try the low-salt version of it.

Meriwether Lewis - always the more prolific and lyrical writer on the duo - takes a moment in the sedentary winter to reflect upon their diet in this extended passage dated January 5, 1806, including the nature of whale blubber and how it stacks up against in a taste comparison against dog meat.  He also addressed the party's want of salt, want of bread, and ultimately on his own increasingly omnivorous disregard for the species of his dinner:

At 5 P.M. Willard and Wiser returned,   they had not been lost as we apprehended.  they informed us that it was not until the fifth day after leaving the Fort that they could find a convenient place for making salt;  that they had at length established themselves on the coast about 15 Miles S.W. from this, near the lodge of some Killamuck families; that the Indians were very friendly and had given them a considerable quantity of the blubber of a whale which perished on the coast some distance S.E. of them; part of this blubber they brought with them, it was white & not unlike the fat of Poork, tho' the texture was more spongey and somewhat coarser.  I had a part of it cooked and found it very pallitable and tender,  it resembled the beaver or the dog in flavor.  it may appear somewhat extraordinary tho' it is a fact that the flesh of the beaver and dog possess a very great affinity in point of flavour.

These lads also informed us that J. Fields, Bratten and Gibson (the Salt Makers) had with their assistance erected a comfortable camp killed an Elk and several deer and secured a good stock of meat;  they commenced the making of salt and found that they could obtain from 3 quarts to a gallon a day; they brought with them a specemine of the salt of about a gallon, we found it excellent, fine, strong, & white;  this was a great treat to myself and most of the party, having not had any since the 20th Ultmo.; I say most of the party, for my friend Capt. Clark declares it to be a mear matter of indifference with him whether he uses it or not;  for myself I must confess I felt a considerable inconvenience from the want of it; the want of bread I consider as trivial provided, I get fat meat, for as the species of meat I am not very particular, the flesh of the dog the horse the wolf, having from habit become equally fomiliar with any other, and I have learned to think that if the chord be sufficiently strong, which binds the soul and boddy together, it does not so much matter about the materials which compose it.  Capt. Clark determined this evening to set out early tomorrow with two canoes and 12 men in quest of the whale, or at all events to purchase from the Indians a parcel of the blubber,   for this purpose he prepared a small assortment of merchandize to take with him.

Interesting or what?  So apparently dog does not taste like chicken.  It tastes like beaver.  I wonder how that stacks up against bear?

Well, here I will take a moment to clarify that it would be quite faulty to assume that every American Indian tribe was eating dog regularly.  The reality is that many found the practice just as taboo as you and I.  Another reality is that plenty of other, unexpected cultures (and here I am talking Switzerland, for starters) have also had their episodes with the canine cuisine, as a visit to Wikipedia will reveal. A lot of what the human diet comes down to is availability and convenience - and that, as I learned in an Intro to Sociology or Anthropology or Something-ology class many years ago - it has been shown that universally human communities exploit the foodstuffs that offer the highest nutrient and calorie yield to the lowest amount of effort required in its harvest.  It brings to mind very literally the expression, the juice ain't worth the squeeze.  This is to say that we are surrounded with the edible-yet-inconvenient and of such do not bother to partake.  Maybe it's also to say that sometimes dogs taste better than berries, unless there's a fat, juicy buffalo out back...

Apparently as the expedition made its way homeward with its newly adopted appetite for the dog, some of the tribes they encountered - while often accommodating in the commercial sense -were not entirely impressed in the cultural sense.  Write Clark on May 5th, 1806:

while at dinner an indian fellow very impertinently threw a half starved puppy into the plate of Capt. Lewis by way of derision for our eating dogs and laughed very hartily at his own impertinence;  Capt. L. -- was so provoked at the insolence that he cought the puppy and threw it with great violence at him and struck him in the breast and face, seazed his tomahawk, and shewed him by sign that if he repeated his insolence that he would tomahawk him,  the fellow withdrew apparently mortified and we continued our Dinner without further molestation.

Well, apparently the expedition itself wasn't entirely impressed with their new custom, either.  Given the calibre of Lewis' reaction and overall humorlessness in the matter, clearly the Indian man's ribbing touched an unexpectedly and acutely raw nerve.  I am guessing all members of the party quit the habit upon their return to "civilization" back east.

Meanwhile in 1805: Portrait of an Extraordinary Musical Dog by Philip Reinagle - from the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts collection

On an amusing closing note I'll say that as I sat one afternoon in my usual coffeehouse (engrossed with this draft on my laptop), I hardly noticed a man shuffling from table to table with a little Pit-Lab mix in his hands.  Not, anyway, until he thrust the dog in my face and bluntly offered: "Puppy?"  I confess I really had to do a double-take before I realized he was trying to find the dog a new home.  Otherwise I found myself on the verge of polite excuse: "Oh no, thanks. I had a heavy lunch..."

- a.t.s

The Native American Couture, pt. 3: easy sex, radical bodymods & a nominee for Worst Tattoo of 1805.

I've much enjoyed reading The Journals of Lewis and Clark, as anyone whose followed Amicus Curiositatis thus far can pretty easily attest.  But I confess I did have a moment of hesitancy when I started finding in its narrative an increasing number of very casual references to the Native Americans encountered along the way as flatheads.  Particularly as the expedition made its way westward past the Missouri river.  I wondered if this was, more or less, the frontier equivalent of certain pejorative terms - and I am sure I don't need to catalog them for you to get the picture - for other races and cultures based on differences in physical appearance and dress.  Well, old books really are the great repositories of antiquated and sometimes embarrassing social order and language; indeed, ofttimes it is curiosity with these cultural fossils that spark engagement with the old books to begin with.  But I think mostly we want to be turned on more than turned off.  And it was in this spirit I found myself midpage, asking: Hmmm. Really?

So it relieved me considerably to learn -  and it is my pleasure to share - that the term flatheads was actually not being applied to Native Americans in general as a pejorative but instead rather matter-of-factly to a collection of indigenous tribes whose heads were really quite literally and intentionally flattened!  Say whaaat?

Here I am speaking specifically of the native tribes of the Pacific Northwest that Lewis' and Clark's expedition encountered, whose peoples were in the habit of flattening their heads in infancy. The culture actively institutionalized cranial disfiguration as a means to an aesthetic ideal, and they were quite keen on tattooing, as well.  And, mercifully, the term flathead - though of course not in English - was already in common usage before the paleface ever even made the North American scene...

Meriwether Lewis tells all in his observations from March 19, 1806.  (And of course I, not Lewis, put the really compelling bits in boldface, as is increasingly becoming the habit...)

The Killamucks, Clatsops, Chinnooks, Cathlahmahs and Wac-ki-a-cums resemble each other as well in their persons and dress  as in their habits and manners.  their complexion is not remarkable, being the usual copper brown of most of the tribes of North America.  they are low in statu[r]e reather diminutive, and illy shapen; poss[ess]ing thick broad flat feet, thick ankles, crooked legs wide mouths thick lips, nose moderately large, fleshey, wide at the extremity with large nostrils, black eyes and black coarse hair.  their eyes are sometimes of a dark yellowish brown the puple black.  the most remarkable trait in their physiognomy is the peculiar flatness and width of forehead which they artificially obtain by compressing the head between two boards while in a state of infancy and from which it never afterwards perfectly recovers.  this is a custom among all the nations we have met with West of the Rocky mountains.  I have observed the heads of many infants, after this singular bandage had been dismissed, or about the age of 10 or eleven months, that were not more than two inches thich about the upper edge of the forehead and reather thiner still higher.  from the top of the head to the extremity if the nose is one straight line  this is done in order to give a greater width to the forehead, which they much admire.  this process seems to be continued longer with the female than their mail children, and neither appear to suffer any pain from the operation.  it is from this peculiar form  of the head that  the nations East of the Rocky mountains, call all the nations on this side, except the Aliohtans or snake Indians, by the generic name of Flatheads.

Well how about all of that!?  It certainly makes one wonder what must have been the impetus to get into that sort of habit in the first place.  What are the roots of the tradition?  Was it mythology?  Magic?  Boredom?  I mean, really, what does make someone decide it would be a swell thing to mash their baby's head in a press?

A page from Lewis' and Clark's journals illustrating the flattening process and its result.

I have to think how really odd it must have been to be a member of the expedition at this point - that is to say, a complete outsider - as they traveled among these tribes, by far I think the freakiest people Lewis and Clark were to encounter.  I know I would have had my share of W.T.F. moments, which isn't always a bad thing per se (unless of course you burst out laughing and hurt some one's feelings). And if the head-shaping thing was not enough, apparently the tribes were into some intentional swelling of the legs as well, through some sort of ornamental binding.  Lewis continues on the topic in his entry from above:

The large or apparently swolen legs particularly observable in the women are obtained in great measure by tying a cord tight around the ankle.  their method of squating or resting themselves on their hams which they seem from habit to prefer to sitting, no doubt contributes much to this deformity of the legs by preventing free circulation of the blood.

I am (lightheartedly) left to wonder if this isn't some sort of indigenous, 19th century equivalent of suffering stilettos for the sake of an attractive effect on the leg.  After all, every culture really does have its aesthetic idiosyncrasies.  (Though I will take a moment to again clarify explicitly that these expressions of body modification were exclusive to these Pacific Northwest tribes - though the title of my post might lead one to believe otherwise.   As far as the title goes, I am using Native American to reference in particular the indigenous peoples encountered in the narrative of The Journals of Lewis and Clark, and I am lumping this post's information in with a series generated around the explorers' observations of the appearance of these tribes during their journey from 1804 to 1806.  I will also clarify that today there is an actual, formally-titled Flathead tribe - who do not intentionally flatten their heads. I am most definitely not writing about them.)

A flathead mother giving her baby the treatment, from 1860. Note the small feet, large legs, and extensive tattooing as well.

So these Native Americans were very different than their European observers, on many levels.  As we see, both groups had radically different ideals of beauty - clearly - and both also prescribed to different ideals in sexual expression.  Not only did the Indians of the Northwest practice forms of body modification, they were also big on tattooing their skin.  In the following passage William Clark touches again on the forced swelling of the legs and the tattooing, and also reveals a little bit about native sexual mores - at least as perceived through the filter of his own, which of course is always the way.  This passage illustrates what I think must be nominated as Worst Tattoo of 1805, and it's also the beginning of a fairly amusing little sexual narrative.  From Clark's journal entry from November 21, 1805:

An old woman & Wife of the Chunnooks came and made a Camp near ours.  She brought with her 6 young Squars (her daughters & nieces) I believe for the purpose of Gratifying the passions of our party and receving for those indugiences Such Small [presents] as She (the old woman) thought proper to accept of.

Those people appear to View Sensuality as a Necessary evel, and do not appear to abhor it as a Crime in the unmarried State.  The young females are fond of the attention of our men and appear to meet the sincere approbation of their friends and connections, for thus obtaining their favors,     the Womin of the Chinnook Nation have handsom faces low and badly made with large legs & thighs which are generally  Swelled from a Stopage of the circulation to the feet (which are Small) by maney Strands of Beeds or curious Strings which are drawn tight around the leg above the ankle,     their legs are also picked [tattooed] with different figures,  I saw on the left arm of a Squar the following letters J. Bowman,   all those are considered by the natives of this quarter as handsom deckerations, and a woman without those deckerations is Considered as among the lower Class   they ware their hair loose hanging over their back and Sholders     maney have blue beeds threaded & hung from different parts of their ears and about ther neck and around their wrists,   their dress otherwise is prosisely like that of the Nation of War ci a cum as already discribed.

A tattoo of "J. Bowman" on your body?  How the hell does one end up with that?!  That's almost as regrettable as Johnny Depp's Winona Forever - especially when one looks at Winona Then and Now.  Well, to be fair in considering the provenance of such a tattoo, the Lewis and Clark expedition was not the first group of white folks these Indians had seen - only the first to come across land from the east.  By the time Lewis and Clark arrived at the Pacific, there was already regular maritime trade between natives and whites along the coast.  The expedition had even considered hopping a ship for the ride back home. 

I guess one can assume that Mr. (or Ms.?) J. Bowman was somehow connected to this coastal commerce.  But, to reference Winona Forever again, was it the mark of love?  Or (and it amuses me to think as much) was this abstract, just another example of a sort of illiterate cross-cultural appropriation - like when the Japanese borrow English words out of any sensible context to lend an international cachet to product packaging. Or vice versa, when Americans sport t-shirts emblazoned with Kanji characters that might translate to either "Peace" or "Ear Wax" for all they really know.  So what did it mean, then, that J. Bowman?  Did it just look cool?

It's also interesting to see reference to Indian class structure, when I think many of us grow up with perceptions of indigenous society as a more egalitarian, destratified thing.  Quite the contrary, really, as - at least in the research I found of someone writing about the Upper Chinook Clackamas, and there is no reason to believe allied tribes were much different - the society was divided among a wealthy, hereditary ruling class, a lesser sort of commoner or middle class, and a whole lot of slaves.  Slavery, though, was something one could buy one's way out of, and conversely find oneself in as the consequence of debt.   It's interesting to see also the reference to status indicators and symbols, something that seems to transcend any cultural boundary, though in this instance is imbued in tattoos - which of course are generally not a traditional indicator of inclusion into our own upper classes. (My late and upright Protestant grandmother would have added anklets and pierced ears to the list, as well...)

The aforementioned head-flattening was also central in conveying and even accessing social status. Says one Anglo observer in 1835: "It is even considered among them a degradation to possess a round head, and one whose caput has happened to be neglected in his infancy, can never become even a subordinate chief in his tribe, and is treated with indifference and disdain, as one who is unworthy a place amongst them."  Apparently you just can't shatter a glass ceiling with a round head; it's a conehead's world...

How much would you pay for a night with this woman?

Well, on a semi-sexy note, apparently those six aforementioned "squars" did succeed in securing some goods for a little nooky, though the Journals' narrative indicates the exchange was not limited exclusively to sex and trade goods.  Writes Meriwether Lewis upon encountering the six ladies yet again on March 15, 1806:

we were visited this afternoon by Delashshelwilt a Chinnook Chief his wife and six women of his nation which the old baud his wife had brought for market.  this was the same party that had communicated the venerial to so many of our party in November last, and of which they have finally recovered.  I therefore gave the men a particular charge with rispect to them which they promised me to observe.  late this evening we were also visited by Catel a Clatsop man  and his family.  he brought a canoe and a Sea Otter Skin for sale neither of which we purchased this evening.  The Clatsops who had brought a canoe for sale last evening left us early this morning.

Oh dear! A bit of a disaster, really!  Every one's got the clap - the treatment for which at the time is mercury.  But fortunately lessons are learned, so writes Meriwether Lewis on March 17, 1806:

Old Delashelwilt and his women still remain   they have formed a ca[m]p near the fort and seem to be determined to lay close s[i]ege to us but I believe  notwithstanding every effort of their winning graces, the men have preserved their constancy to the vow of celibacy which they made on this occasion to Capt. C. and myself.  we have had our perogues prepared for our departure, and shal set out as soon as the weather will permit.

Personally I am wondering how these men could have found the wherewithal to lay with some freaky flat-headed, tatted-up, swollen-leg gals - but I guess pussy is another of those things that transcends cultural borders.  Generally as long as it isn't tattooed or flattened.  Though in the defense of the ladies, there is always something to be said for tenacity...

- a.t.s.

The Native American Couture, pt. 2: mad about beads; wherein the author discourses additionally on the occasional uselessness of European currency and its interesting consequences.

It's not uncommon to hear disparaging commentary on the beads-for-land trade that opened the island of Manhattan for European colonization.  At least not if one hangs out with liberal-minded, hyper-educated types (and here I'll ask, why wouldn't you?).  The transaction in question occurred between the Dutch and the indigenous Lenni Lenape tribe in 1626, and apparently cross-cultural misunderstanding ruled the day: the Dutch thought they were making an outright purchase; the natives - possessing no concept of personal land ownership - instead "interpreted the trade goods as gifts given in appreciation for the right to share the land."  And the goods that secured the transaction - be it for tenancy or outright ownership - consisted of a bag of  "beads and trinkets" valued then at 60 Dutch guilders.  I don't know that one could even buy a string of beads in Manhattan for that today, though back then I am sure it made for a fairly sizable bag.  But what I think is interesting - especially for people like ourselves, whose every consuming move is governed and facilitated by ethereal, fiat currencies like the US$, and who are generally removed from any sort of barter or commodity-for-commodity trade - is not the price, but the means of payment: firstly, that the Dutch did not settle the account in guilders, or even plain old gold for that matter, and secondly, that they paid primarily in beads.

So apparently it's true: money really doesn't buy everything, though it seems likely everything still has its price.  I'm not an economist (just the alumnus of a sophomore Principles of Macroeconomics course, the sole sparking interest in which I took in the British economist John Maynard Keynes, his bisexuality, and his involvement in the Bloomsbury group), but what it really comes down to, and perhaps you will agree, is this: a unit of exchange only has liquidity if both parties imbue it with value in relatively equal measure.  Which is to ask, what the hell is a Lenni Lenape going to spend a guilder on in 1626?  What, for that matter, are they going to do with a gold coin short of flip it or wear it, or flip it to see who gets to wear it?

An interesting example of the very non-European non-primacy of gold comes from the Spanish conquest of "New Spain".  When the conquistador Hernán Cortés made his entrada into the Aztec-dominated lands we now know as Mexico, although the Spaniards could easily be diagnosed as suffering from a robust case of gold fever, the Aztecs, while rich in the shiny commodity, did not value it above all others.  The Aztecs - who were quite terrific with feathers and wore them to no end  - actually valued the feather of the Resplendent Quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno) most of all.  Diplomatic offerings were sent to the conquistadors as they approached Tenochtitlan from the gulf, including quantities of the coveted quetzal feathers, to demonstrate the wealth, power, and opulence of the Aztec emperor.  But of course a gold-hungry Spaniard had no cultural impetus whatsoever to reciprocate in appreciation.  I mean, really, what if aliens invaded and we tried to appease them with offerings of Louis Vuitton handbags?

European School portrait of Montezuma II - note the feather work on the outside of his cloak and shield. I've always been especially fond of the orange and blue coloration of this painting, as well.

In an earlier post I wrote of Indian sign language being the lingua franca of the North American continent: an effective means of communication that could successfully carry one, more or less, across the comparatively primitive, polyglot "wilderness," from sea to shining sea.   Obviously in a world without traveler's checks, or even formal currency for that matter, paying one's way along the journey presents a challenge, and from the Dutch experience we already see that beads could open doors.  Similar valuation of beads is found throughout the Lewis and Clark journals, from which I can comfortably say that they were the most universally accepted trade commodity, and indeed paid many an expense as the expedition made its way from St. Louis to the Pacific and back again.  Of course the natives were also keen on procuring guns, axes, kettles, metal tools, blankets, and tobacco - but beads in particular seem to have been a hit.  Possibly because they are such fun to wear (I mean, they are hardly essential to living), and the Native Americans of course had a terrific sense for personal adornment.  Beads one can work with, guilders one cannot.

As Clark and the expedition make their way along the Columbia river, he takes time to reflect on the primacy of the bead among the salmon-fishing tribes living along its banks. His journal entry of November 1, 1805, really hints at the widespread currency of beads:

...however they git in return for those articles Blue and white beeds copper Kettles, brass arm bands, some scarlet and blue robes and a fiew articles of old clothes, they prefer beeds to any thing, and will part with the last mouthfull of articles of clothing they have for a fiew of those beeds, those beeds the[y] traffic with Indians Still higer up this river for roabs, Skins, cha-pel-el [biscuitroot] bread, beargrass &c. who in turn trafick with those under the rockey mountains for Beargrass, quarmash roots & robes &c.

Clearly there is widespread currency in beads.  And I'll also add here, though it is not entirely relevant, that I suspect beads were much prettier in 1805, or at least of more consistent integrity - when everything was naturally derived, handmade, and American Indian apparel was the apparel of everyday life and not costume for the odd pow wow.  No artificially dyed feathers or plastic beads here, paleface.

Portrait of Shó-me-kós-see, or "The Wolf", of the Kansa tribe.  Painted by George Catlin in 1832. From the Smithsonian collection.

Beads were often worn copiously - on strands and integrated into complex mixed-media accessories as well.  Returning from the Pacific, Clark notes the appearance of the Choppunish, or Nez Percés (from the French for "pierced nose").  His journal entry from May 7th 1806:

The orniments worn by the Chopunnish are, in their nose a single shell of Wampom, the pirl & beeds are suspended from the ears. beads are worn arround their wrists, neck, and over their shoulders crosswise in the form of a double sash. the hair of the men is cewed in two rolls which hang on each side in front of the body. Collars of bears claws are also common; but the article of dress that in which they appear to bestow most pains and orniments is a kind of collar or breastplate; this is most commonly a strip of otter skins of about six inches wide taken out of the center of the skin its whole length including the head. this is dressed with the hair on. this is tied around the neck & hangs in front of the body the tail frequently reaching below their knees; on this skin in front is attatched pieces of pirl, beeds, wampom, pices of red cloth and in short whatever they conceive most valuable or ornamental.

Bear fur and claws are particularly valued in apparel as the bears of the west - especially the grizzly - were dangerously aggressive and extremely hard to kill.  Lewis and Clark, armed with shotguns and accustomed to the more docile black bears of the East, underestimated the temper and might of the grizzlies and were surprised to find that felling one often required both multiple gunshots and a hell of a lot of running for your life until the bear finally dropped.  Needless to say, gunless and armed with just bow and arrow, the indigenous Americans were not keen to take them on and so to actually fell a bear was considered an accomplishment and by extension, seemingly, to sport the trophy of such a kill, high status.

The noted warrior Shon ta yi ga, or "Little Wolf" of the Iowa tribe - painted by George Catlin, 1844. Note the abundance of beads, as well as the formidable bear claw necklace.

Here's a truly interesting passage, one where William Clark pretty much spells out the value of beads to his American Indian associates in no uncertain terms.  He also describes some of the more gruesome and curious accessory choices of the Nez Percés, and again I will put the more sensational details in boldface, since that's the sort of person I am. From his entry dated May 1th, 1806:

...they do not appear to be much devoted to baubles as most of the nations we have met with, but seem anxious always to recive articles of utility, such as knives, axes, Kittles, blankets & mockerson awls. blue beeds however may form and exception to this remark; This article among all the nations of this country may be justly compared to gold and silver among civilized nations. They are generally well clothed in their stile. Their dress consists of a long shirt which reaches to the middle of the leg, long legins which reach as high as the waist, mockersons & robe. those are formed of various skins and are in all respects like those of the Shoshone. Their orniments consists of beeds, shells and pieces of brass variously attached to their dress, to their ears arround their necks wrists arms &c. a band of some kind usially serounds the head, this is most frequently the skin of some fir animal as the fox otter &c. I observed a tippet worn by Hohastillpilp, which was formed of Humane scalps and ornemented with the thumbs and fingers of several men which he had slain in battle, they also were a coller or breastplate of otter skin ornimneted with shells beeds & quills. the women brade their hair in two tresses which hang in the same position of those of the men, which ar[e] cewed and hand over each shoulder &c.

 A tippet, by the way - and I had to research it myself - is a sort of long scarf that wraps over the shoulders and hangs down the front on either side, such as one finds in the vestments of certain types of clergy, though the natives' were made from skins.  Would you wear one? Would you wear one covered with thumbs and fingers?  Well, maybe...

Another terrifically curious example of the occasional worthlessness of European currency is one that culturally and stylistically still touches our lives very much today.  In the early years of global maritime trade - when state-chartered companies like the East India Company (founded 1600 by Elizabeth I) and its Dutch equivalent, the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (of 1602) were sending ships on the astonishingly long voyage around the cape of Africa and on to ports in Asia - the initial goods for acquisition were spices.  The appetite of the European market for which simply could not be satiated, and historically many fortunes were made trying. 

Many desired varieties of spices came from the "Spice Islands" of Indonesia and elsewhere in Southeast Asia, and though the European ships set sale with stores of gold to make their purchase, the producing tribes of the islands were basically pre-literate and without currency - and they found no utility whatsoever in gold, either.  Again, what does a guilder buy you in the jungle?  So spices-for-gold was a no go, however the natives would trade for more practical items, particularly textiles.   And so the trade became triangular: European ships would exchange gold for textiles in India, then sail to the islands to trade Indian textiles for spices, then return to Europe to resell the spices for gold on the European market.  Problem solved.

But thanks to the success of the spice trade, another market was opened as its accidental bi-product: some of these spice-heavy ships started returning home also with leftover remnants of Indian textiles.  The directors of these trading companies - and I am quite sure their wives, too - got a look at the colors and the patterns and basically said, "These. Are. Fabulous."   And so shortly ships began returning laden with textiles as well, which in turn introduced the Tree of Life design to Europe and European craftsmen, which is pretty much the common evolutionary ancestor to every piece of large-scaled floral patterned chintz to which we somewhat reflexively accredit today as the backbone and basis of the "English country look".  French merchants especially came to appropriate the Indian design motifs as they soon realized, amidst great demand, it was far more profitable to domestically manufacture Indienne-style knock-offs than to actually go to the expense of importing them for resale - and this is why "French Provencial" textiles are often a curious combination of European flora mixed with Eastern design elements such as paisleys and palmettes...

(Yeah, I basically ache to write scads on this - in my esteem a fascinating and antique sort of cross-culturalism - but that will have to wait until after I finish up with Lewis & Clark, which I assure you is only going to get freakier...)

The Native American Couture, pt. 1: skins on skin. Or, the peek-a-boo chic...

Last month there was something of an uproar here in town when a party promoter proposed what would be an ill-fated, or at least ill-themed, Thanksgiving food drive at a local club.  The name of the party was originally slated to be  "Pocahotass" and it invited fashion-forward attendees to dress up, more or less, as Pilgrims & Indians. 

And while I suspect the initial intention of the gay promoters was one of innocence (coupled with an overwhelming desire to wear feathers), probably little more than to invoke the sort of celebratory, elementary-school playfulness most likely apparent the last time any of us actually did dress up as Pilgrims and Indians, naturally the event was immediately seized upon by critics who vociferously dubbed the entire affair far too exploitative and insensitive.  Well, in retrospect I suppose anyone could have, or should have, seen that coming.  Apparently in this world of ours there is simply no room for the canned good-collecting homosexual dancing in feathered headress - unless of course it's of the Vegas showgirl variety.  But still the reality remains: nobody really wants to dress like a Pilgrim and anyone, with any style, would rather dress like an Indian.  Or I'll just say this: that in the classical Native American costume there is a certain style, a flair, and a materiality that today's fashion queen likely wants to explore in greater depth...

As Lewis and Clark make their historic journey across the continent, they are in almost constant company with Native Americans along the way: the Mandans and Minnetarees of the upper Missouri river, the Shonshonee, the Nez Perces, the various Chinnook tribes along the Columbia to the Pacific.  Many of the tribes, particularly those around the Rockies, are isolated from both the "white" settlements of the East and the maritime trade along the Pacific coast, and have never encountered a European before.  They are, however, generally cognizant of their existence, and in some cases posses possibly second and third-generation traded goods from Spanish colonials and frontiersmen to their south (I am guessing in Colorado).  Both Lewis and Clark take copious notes about what they encounter on their long journey, and the appearance, dress, and customs of the natives are no exception.

 The Mandan medicine man, Mah-to-he-ha, or Old Bear, painted by George Catlin, 1832 - Smithsonian Collection

 

In my reading of The Journals of Lewis and Clark, I've noted some passages for consideration: ones that illustrate the almost exclusive usage of animal skins in the construction of garments - as these tribes have no means of fiber processing at this time - and their sense of adornment.  But interestingly (or maybe I am just a perv), these passages also reveal the Native American's comparatively racy sense of bodily display - which is to say, more accurately, absence of Judeo-Christian modesty - of which the white explorers were unable to feign ignorance, for better and, as the record I think amusingly shows, sometimes for worse.  That's right, often they were lettin' it all hang out!  And I'll be happy to put the illustrative passages in bold face for the sake of simple sensationalism, but besides that, it is actually interesting to see what constitued the fashion...

Here William Clark shares his sartorial observations among the Nez Perces, who traditionally led a seasonally-nomadic existence through Idaho, Washington, and Oregon.  His entry from October 10, 1805:

The Cho-pun-nish or Pierced nose Indians are Stout likely men, handsom women, and verry dressy in their way,  the dress of the men are a White Buffalo robe or Elk Skin dressed with Beeds which are generally white, Sea Shells & the Mother of Pirl hung to the[i]r hair & on a piece of otter skin about their necks   hair Ceewed in two parsels hanging forward over their Shoulders, feathers, and different Coloured Paints which they find in their Countrey  Generally white, Green & light Blue.  Some fiew were a Shirt of Dressed Skins and long legins & Mockersons Painted, which appear to be their winters dress, with a plat of twisted grass about their Necks.

The women dress in a Shirt of Ibex or Goat [bighorn] Skins which reach quite down to their anckles with a girdle,   their heads are not ornemented.  their Shirts are ornemented with quilled Brass, Small peces of Brass Cut into different forms, Beeds, Shells & curious bones &c.   The men expose those parts which are generally kept from few [view] by other nations but the women are more perticular than any other nation which I have passed [in s[e]creting the parts].

On October 17th, 1805, Clark has an encounter with another group down the road, where the ladies are, apparently, plus-sized and hardly modest. I wonder if this constitutes the 1805 equivalent of a camel toe...?

The Dress of those natives differ but little from those on the Koskoskia and Lewis's rivers, except the women who dress verry different, in as much as those above ware long leather Shirts which [are] highly ornimented with beeds shells &c. &c. and those on the main Columbia river only ware a truss or pece of leather tied around them at their hips and drawn tite between their legs and fastened before So as bar[e]ly to hide those parts which are so sacredly hid & s[e]cured by our women. Those women are more inclined to Co[r]pulency than any we have yet Seen, their eyes are of a Duskey black, their hair of a corse black without orniments of any kind as above.

Shé-de-ah, or Wild Sage, of the Wichita tribe painted by George Catlin, 1834 -Smithsonian Collection

Catlin wrote: “Amongst the women of this tribe, there were many that were exceedingly pretty in feature and in form; and also in expression, though their skins are very dark. … [They] are always decently and comfortably clad, being covered generally with a gown or slip, that reaches from the chin quite down to the ankles, made of deer or elk skins.…"  The Smithsonian adds "The sensual appeal (of this portrait) suggests that the artist was not always an objective observer of Indian life."

I've mentioned before that Lewis is the more gifted writer of the two, and this, perhaps the most sensational of all, does not disappoint. He records on March 19th, 1806, as the expedition prepares to depart the Pacific and make their journey home:

The Killamucks, Clatsops, Chinnooks, Cathlahmahs, and Wic-ki-a-cums resemble each other as well in their persons and dress as in their habits and manners .... The dress of the women  consists of a robe, tissue, and sometimes when the weather is uncommonly cold, a vest. their robe is much smaller than that of the men, never reaching lower than the waist nor extending in front sufficiently to cover the body.  it is like that of the men confined across the breast with a string and hangs loosly over the shoulders and back.  the most esteemed and valuable of these robes are made of strips of the skins of the Sea Otter net together with the bark of the white cedar or silk-grass.  these strips are fist twisted and laid parallel with eath other a little distance assunder, and then net or wove together in such a manner that fur appears equally on both sides, and unites between the strands.  it make[s] a warm and soft covering.  other robes are formed in a similar manner of the skin of the Rackoon, beaver &c.   at other times the skin is dressed in the hair and woarn without any further preparation.  the`vest is always formed in the manner first discribed of their robes and covers the body from the armpits to the waist, and is confined behind, and destitute of straps over the sholder to keep it up.  when this vest is woarn the breast of the woman is concealed. but without it which is almost always the case, they are exposed, and from the habit of remaining loose and unsuspended grow to great length, particularly in aged women in many of whom I have seen the bubby reach as low as the waist.  The garment which occupied the waist, and from thence as low as nearly to the knee before and the ham, behind, cannot properly be denominated a petticoat, in the common acceptation of that term;  it is a tissue of white cedar bark, bruised or broken into small shreds, which are interwoven in the middle  by means of several cords of the same material, which serve as well for a girdle as to hold in place the shreds of bark which form the tissue, and which shreds confined to the middle hang with their ends pendulous from the waist , the whole being of sufficient thickness when the female stands erect to conceal those parts usually covered from formiliar view, but when she stoops or places herself in many other attitudes, this battery of Venus is not altogether impervious to the inquisitive and penetrating eye of the amorite.

Oh, Meriwether Lewis, that's a hell of a way to say you can see a gal's muffin!  But of course though, truly, we like nothing really impervious to the inquisitive and penetrating eye, amorite or otherwise.