BILL MALONE INTERVIEW

   

   [BEGIN SIDE 1]

   

   This is Brad Cole from Northern Arizona University.

We're at the Hubbell Trading Post with Bill Malone,

who's the trader-manager for the Hubbell Trading Post.

It's Friday, August 14, 1998.  Also present in the room

are Karen Underhill from Northern Arizona University,

and Lew Steiger, running the sound and camera

equipment.

   

   Cole:  Bill, let's start from the very beginning.

When and where were you born?

   

   Malone:  I was born in Gallup, New Mexico.  You want

a date on that?

   

   Cole:  Sure.

   

   Malone:  November 9, 1939.

   

   Cole:  And who were your parents?

   

   Malone:  Odell James Malone and Thelma Malone.

They're both still alive.  My dad lives in Lubbock,

Texas.  My mom lives in Grants, New Mexico.

   

   Cole:  Did you grow up in Gallup, then?

   

   Malone:  I lived in Gallup 'til I can't remember,

I'd say 'til I was about ten years old.  My mom and dad

lived on top of a hill overlooking the old Gallup

Intertribal Ceremonial Armory Building where they used

to have the tribes get together.  Our house--maybe the

reason I'm living out on the reservation--our house was

kind of a hogan-shaped house, or a cluster of hogans

put together.  Maybe that's where I got that "I want to

live with the Navajos" in me.

   

   Cole:  What did your parents do?

   

   Malone:  My dad was a railroader.  My mom worked as

a waitress in different cafés in town.  I'm going to

say about 1950 we moved to Texas.  My dad got

transferred to Texas, or else had to quit the railroad--

so we moved to Texas.  From Texas it was there for a

while.  Then Durango, Colorado.  I finished school in

Durango, went to college there about one year, and then

joined the Army.  Got out of the Army in 1961, and came

back to Gallup, New Mexico, and got a job with a trader

named Al Frick at Lupton, Arizona.  At that time, my

mom had remarried, and had married a trader by the name

of Hugh Lee, who actually was a trader here in Ganado

at one time, at Lee's Trading Post across town.  I

worked for Al Frick for about a year, and then quit

that job, worked construction for about six months and

then went to Keams Canyon for a short time, not even

three or four months, and then went to Piñon for about

eighteen years and worked for the McGee family--that'd

be Bill and Cliff McGee.

   In 1981, I came here to Hubbell's Trading Post.  And

it was like walking out of the back door of Piñon and

walking in the front door here.  There wasn't any hard

change to me, except maybe you see more tourists here,

because it is a national historic site.  Here at

Hubbell's I work for Southwest Parks and Monuments,

which is a nonprofit cooperating association, and I

kind of work under the thumb of the Park Service, so to

speak.  It's been a great time here.  I've really

enjoyed my stay.  I hope I have another five or ten

years in me, I don't know.  I've enjoyed being a trader

here at Hubbell's and also at Piñon.

   

   Cole:  What attracted you to the trading business?

   

   Malone:  I had a background in electronics,

microwave technology, when I got out of the Army.  I

tried to get some kind of related jobs when I got to

Gallup when I got out of the service, and I couldn't

even get a job changing radio tubes in radios for Santa

Fe Railroad, because there was an older guy like me

behind the counter, and he said, "Sonny, you need

fifteen years experience before you can get this job."

So....

   I got asked to work at the trading post, and I just

kind of stepped into that and stuck with it.  Along the

way, I met a Navajo girl at Lupton, by the name of

Minnie Goodluck, and I always use the pun that I took

her good luck away.  We've had five children, fourteen

grandkids.  We've just really enjoyed it.  Most of my

kids are married to Navajos.  You might say they're

gonna wash me out by remarrying a Navajo and thinning

out the white blood, so to speak.  It's been enjoyable,

and I have some great grandkids, a nice family, I

really enjoy it.  My wife, along with being a

postmaster at Piñon--she might have been one of the

first Navajo postmasters on the reservation--she was

appointed by Sam Steiger.  When we moved here to Ganado

you might say I lost her job for her, for being a

postmaster.  We've really enjoyed it on the

reservation.  Our only boy is a Navajo policeman in

Chinle.  Our first daughter is a teacher in Gallup.

Second daughter is a postal worker in Gallup.  Third

daughter is married to a well-known silversmith by the

name of Perry Shorty, and they live in Tuba City.  My

fourth daughter is married to a Navajo from Sanders,

and they live in Salt Lake City.

   

   Cole:  What was Lupton like when you [first arrived

there]?

   

   Malone:  Lupton was a pretty rough place.  The

trading post was nice, but there was a lot of drinking

that went on at Lupton.  They had a couple of bars

there, and it was wild and wooly on the weekends.  I

didn't really miss it.  I mean, now that the bars are

gone from Lupton, it's a much quieter atmosphere down

there, but it used to be pretty wild and wooly down

there.

   

   Cole:  So was that a bull-pen-type trading post, or

a full service?

   

   Malone:  It was a bull-pen-type trading post, and

very small.  They had a wareroom that wasn't much

bigger than this room, and they had one little room

that they stored the saddles and the file cabinet for

the pawn.  They did pawn in those days.  The store was

quite small too--it wasn't a whole lot bigger than this

building right here.

   

   Cole:  And you mentioned you worked for Al Frick?

   

   Malone:  Al Frick.  He was the trader.

   

   Cole:  How long had he been a trader?

   

   Malone:  He'd been a trader all his life.  His dad

was a trader down at Houck, and his brother and himself

were traders at Houck, and then he got the trading post

at Lupton.

   

   Cole:  And how did you end up then moving on from

Lupton?

   

   Malone:  My stepdad, Hugh Lee, was workin' for the

McGees at Keams Canyon, and he called and asked if I

wanted a job at the gas station.  Since I was

unemployed, I said, "Sure, why not?"  So I moved up

there and worked probably three or four months at the

gas station, and then Cliff wanted to know if I'd go to

Piñon.  So we packed all our belongings on the back of

a stake-bodied truck--we didn't even have a car then

that ran--and drove over to the hill, from Polacca to

Piñon, and the first thing my wife said was, "I don't

like it, there's no trees here."  Eighteen years later

when we were leaving, she was crying.  I was too, in a

sense.  You know, I hated to leave, it was sad to

leave, 'cause we really enjoyed Piñon.  There were a

lot of great Navajo people up there.  It was a really

nice place.

   

   Cole:  Describe Piñon for us, when you first

arrived, if you could.

   

   Malone:  Well, there was a tall structure and a

metal barn.  Across the street was a boarding school,

and a few hogans and what scattered around, but there

was not much else there.  About two or three churches.

And that was about it at Piñon.  I kept waiting, they

kept saying, "Next year we're gonna have a school.

Next year we're gonna pave the road."  Well, after we

left, they built a school, they've got a big shopping

center there.  They just got a couple other nice new

things there.  They've got a big housing project.  So a

lot of things happened after we left there.  But it

takes time for things to happen out here.

   

   Cole:  Do you speak Navajo?

   

   Malone:  (In Navajo) ___________________.  I talk it

a little bit.  I talk it good enough to get around in

the trading post.  I do well enough with my Navajo.  I

guess you call it "trader lingo," but I do all right

with it.

   

   Cole:  And when did you start to learn that?

   

   Malone:  I guess I started at Lupton, and I don't

know if you've had any interviews with any other

traders that said that they've accidentally said things

wrong--I've done that many a time--said the wrong

thing, thinking I was saying something else, and really

said something off the wall that would send a lady out

the door screaming, or something like that.  I've

talked with Bruce Burnham about things like that, and I

guess he's made his trip-ups on occasion, when he was

just learning and starting up.

   

   Cole:  Can you give us any examples?

   

   Malone:  No, I wouldn't give you an example.

(laughter)  I'd probably get whacked when I got home

for giving you an example like that.  (chuckles)  But

I'll comment in English about a story I heard about a

couple of other guys making a bad comment.  A couple of

Navajo elders--in fact, they were at Bruce Burnham's

store--were standing around, and they actually--what

they thought they were saying to an older gentleman was

that he had a real nice pretty belt on.  And what they

actually told him was he had a pretty penis, I guess

you would say.  (laughter)  That's about as risque as I

want to get there.  So it's real easy to trip up.  They

should have said (in Navajo) _______________, "your

belt is really pretty."  But I'm not going to say what

they did say.  I could say it, but I won't.

   

   Cole:  So do you have a Navajo nickname?

   

   Malone:  Gosh, I don't know if I've ever had a

Navajo nickname or not.  Not that I know of.  They just

call me Billy.  My real name is Billy Malone--not

William Malone, but Billy Malone.  A lot of 'em call me

Billy.  I don't know what they call Bruce, but when I

lived at Piñon and he was just down the road, I used to

hear about Brucie.  I think he used to hear about

Billy, but we never put any context to who each other

was.  I had gone down to the post once where he worked,

and he wasn't there.  Lij Blair wasn't there, and I

don't know, I don't think Lij knows this yet, but there

was a young trader I bought four or five old rifles

from, and I heard later on from Bruce, he said, "You're

the son of a gun!" in terms something like that.  He

said, "You're the son of a gun!  They fired that kid

for selling those guns."  (laughter)  But I wasn't

doing anything wrong.  I asked if they were for sale,

and he said yes, and I bought 'em.  Probably Lij's

collection.  I gave 'em away to some friends and kids

and what not.  I might have one of 'em left.  Lij will

probably come lookin' for it.  (laughter)

   

   Cole:  What were the living conditions like for you

and your family at Piñon when you first moved there?

   

   Malone:  It was sparse.  I guess I lived in a

trailer most of my life out here on the Navajo

Reservation.  At Piñon we lived in a trailer with an

add-on.  And then by the time I left Piñon, I think

there had been about three more add-ons to that

trailer.  So you just went out both sides and out the

back and out the front.  You couldn't add onto 'em

anymore.  It wasn't like living in a grandacious old

home, or a home that they'd built on the trading post

site, because there wasn't really anything that nice at

Piñon.  There was a house in the back of the store that

was kinda nice, but it wouldn't be a grander place.

Some of the traders had some nice places out here, like

down at Nazlini had some nice homes.  A little bigger

place like this would be nice.  I mean, where could you

find a fireplace with petrified wood and Anasazi pots

stuck into it?  Before the Antiquity Law, I guess you

would say.

   

   Cole:  How about the living conditions for the

Navajos when you first arrived at Piñon?

   

   Malone:  Well, actually they had some pretty nice

homes at the boarding school, which were Navajo

employees.  Most Navajos at that time lived in the

hogan out on the reservation or out in the hills or out

in the woods, or whatever you want to call it.  Most of

the Navajos I knew then were in hogans.  Since the

joint use area thing--have you talked about that with

anybody? about the joint use thing?  A lot of people

that lived on the wrong side of the Navajo-Hopi line,

so to speak, have been awarded a payoff of whatever you

want to call it, and have been built a pretty nice

home.  Some of 'em were fairly nice, some of 'em were

done shoddily and started fallin' apart a few years

after they moved in 'em.  But a lot of new homes sprang

up around Piñon because of that.  And Piñon was kind of

on the borderline of whether it would be Hopi land or

Navajo land.  And actually, the line was on beyond

Piñon, over towards Black Mountain.  When they awarded

it, when they finally couldn't decide how to do it and

just cut the land in half, the line actually went down

towards Dinnebito.  But a lot of Navajos were on the

wrong side of the line.  So a lot of 'em had moved,

probably married a lady from Piñon or somewhere in

there, had their home built around Piñon somewhere.

And there were even a few homes here in Ganado from

people on the joint use land that would be over towards

Jeddito and Toyei.  And a lot of them have had their

homes built around here.  When you drive around and see

some of the nicer homes out here, you can almost--not

in all instances--but most of the time figure that it's

a joint use house that's been built on the Navajo side

of the reservation.

   

   Cole:  Was there much activism about that issue when

you were at Piñon?

   

   Malone:  It was very much talked about, and a lot of

people were violent about it.  They didn't want to

move, and a lot of people still haven't moved.  To me,

I think our government made a harsh decision in how

they thought that somebody was on the wrong side or

right side of the line.  It'd be hard to tell a Navajo

person that's fifty, sixty years old, that has their

grandpa, their great-grandpa, maybe their great-great-

grandpa buried in the back yard, and tell 'em, "This is

really not your land.  You don't belong here."  So it

was a very tough thing for that to happen to a lot of

those people.  And I don't think the Navajo Tribe

actually thought the ax would fall that way, but I

think our government didn't know how to divide it up,

and they just split the land mass in half.  And if you

happened to be on the wrong side of it, you were in

trouble--especially the people around Coal Mine Mesa

and what not.  So there's a lot of Navajos that got

moved.  Living out here for thirty-five years, all the

Navajos I know--I don't care where you're born out

here, if it's in Crownpoint, where it's desolate, and

there's just flat rocks and nothing; or if it's up here

where you got a lot of cedars, or up around Crystal--

wherever a Navajo is born, that land is their land,

they're inbred to that, and it's their home.  And

whether it's lush or not, they still are attuned to

that land.  Some people might drive through some of the

areas of the joint use and say, "There's nothing out

here," but the Navajos have it in their blood, their

roots are there, and that's their homeland.  It's hard

to tear 'em away from it.

   

   Cole:  Describe for us, if you could, sort of the

trading at Piñon.

   

   Malone:  Mostly we didn't see that awful many

tourists, so to speak of.  It was mostly what we would

call the local people.  A lot of people would come in

to buy groceries, sell baskets, buy baskets, sell their

rugs, sell sheep, sell cattle, sell horses.  I can

remember when the tribe was payin' ten cents a pound

for horses to get 'em off the range, and they were

probably only worth a nickel a pound.  I can remember

when--well, like anybody else growing up, I bought

sheep and I bought horses and cows.  Two instances I

can remember.  I bought this little calf one time, and

I thought it was a little steer calf.  It looked a

little rough, but the cattle buyer came down, and I

think I'd paid like eighty dollars for the thing, which

was about what they would have been worth.  The guy

came down and looked at it and he said, "I'll give you

twenty bucks for the dwarf."  And I said, "The dwarf?!

What are you talking about?"  He said, "That's an

inbred calf over there, and it's only worth twenty

dollars."  So I learned a lesson there.  But we kept

the dwarf and ate it, so we got our eighty bucks' worth

of meat out of it.

   I think I bought a horse one day, and it died the

next.  So I learned lessons about how to inspect

animals and grow 'em.  Here at Hubbell's we don't buy

any animals.  They would like you to, but economics

don't work on wool and sheep anymore, because what the

trader on the reservation can get for the product is

not what they can get in Gallup.  Gallup will always be

a nickel more a pound, or ten cents a pound more, and

you can't pay it out here, because you gotta sell it to

the guys in Gallup, so you can't compete with 'em.  I

just don't want to be the bad guy for shortchangin'

somebody on their animals.

   Now, when we had the drought two years ago, I saw

people comin' in and cashin' checks for sheep, goats,

five bucks a head.  And you know, that's ridiculous.

But they really had no choice, they were gonna die on

'em anyway.  Hay got up to ten bucks a bale out here,

so you couldn't afford to keep buyin' hay to keep 'em

alive.  So it was tough on the people that had animals--

it was real tough.  And the ones that did buy all that

hay and what not, is for the love of the land or love

of the animal, more so than economics, because

economics didn't even fit into it.  They were losing

all the way on it.

   

   Cole:  What type of store was it when you moved to

Piñon?  Was it a bull pen operation?

   

   Malone:  It was a bull pen operation.  It stayed a

bull pen for quite a number of years, and then Cliff

McGee, who was the owner, changed it.  It seemed like

every time we'd get somebody in there, like one of his

brothers was there, and another fellow was there,

they'd want to change it.  We moved the office around a

lot, but it stayed bull pen basically.  I guess it was

a bull pen up 'til about five years before I left.  It

really didn't change the amount of business you did,

from the bull pen to open service, so to speak, because

the numbers didn't go up significantly in money count--

it stayed about the same.

   

   Cole:  Tell us about some of your favorite memories

of different customers that you might have had.  Were

there any that really stand out?

   

   Malone:  Oh, there's quite a few I could think of.

I remember an old man named Tapaha Legai [phonetic

spelling].  He was probably known as one of the richest

men around Piñon.  He always carried like two wallets

on him.  They said he had his money buried out behind

his hogan in a can somewhere.  I never went looking for

that, but I know a lot of people were always after him

for it.  But I can remember when he would come in to

cash his check.  After he cashed his check, he would

take out a wallet out of his back pocket and he must

have had twenty rubber bands on that wallet, and take

all those rubber bands off and look in there, look at

his money, count his money twice before he put it in

there with it.  Then he put all the rubber bands on it

and put her back in his back pocket.  He was a really

colorful gent.  He had a lot of cattle.  He'd come in

with his wife, and his wife's name was Big Mary, and

his daughter's name was Little Mary.  They'd always

come in with their cattle and sort 'em out.  They'd

bring in the whole herd and they're only gonna sell six

or eight or nine, and they'd bring forty of 'em in so

they could get the nine in that they wanted to get rid

of, and run 'em into the back of the trading post, put

'em in the pens and sort 'em out, and kick the others

loose and make the sale and go home.  But he was a very

colorful gent.  In fact, he's been painted a lot--

mostly off of the photographs that Jerry Jacka [later

corrected to Ray Manley] took out at Piñon.  He did a

series he called "The Vanishing Indian."  He took some

great shots of a lot of really old people that were at

Piñon at that time.  I think in that book of his, there

was only one young girl in that book, and that happened

to be my wife's niece.  She's probably the only one

alive out of that crew of people now.  There were about

thirty photographs there, and they're all gone.  I wish

I would have taken more photographs, but I was kinda in

the fast lane, bein' a trader, busy doin' this and

that, so we didn't get too many photographs when we

were out here.

   

   Cole:  What other types of services did you provide

as a trader?

   

   Malone:  Oh, I guess I've done all the things that

traders did in that time--make their phone calls, write

letters, go to funerals.  I've even shot horses at

funerals when asked by the family to do so.  I had a

hard time shooting a horse, too, sometimes, because

it's kind of hard just to shoot a horse, but it's part

of their belief in doin' the funeral.  It's kind of an

honor to be asked to do something like that, and I've

done that.  I can remember one family, I think I went

to 'em three times with death messages, because the

police department in Chinle couldn't get out, it was

muddy, rainy, or what.  And I can remember one daughter

said, "Please don't come see us anymore, because we

know when you're comin', it's something bad, bad news

is comin'."  So that was probably the last time I had

to do that for 'em.  But I think it was three times I'd

been up to their house for something like that, and it

was terrible.

   Other than that, I guess I did just the usual

things:  went to squaw dances and fire dances and yé’ii

bicheiis and things like that--which is fun.  The

healing ceremonies they have are very powerful.  They

have a lot of belief in 'em, and very expensive to

have.  So they're quite expensive.

   

   Cole:  When you say "expensive," how?

   

   Malone:  Well, I imagine a yé’ii bicheii today, a

yé’ii bicheii ceremony, which lasts nine days, could

cost you anywhere from $5,000 to $8,000, easily--just

in things you have to do for the medicine man and to

all the people that come by.  You have to treat

everybody, be nice to everybody, for the whole nine

days.  So it's a very expensive venture.

   

   Cole:  Were there any expectations of the trader to

be involved in that, or provide....

   

   Malone:  Well, I think I got asked today if I would

help out with a squaw dance.  I think the local traders

are always asked, "(in Navajo) _________, help me," you

know, to donate something, or in monetary ways, or a

shawl, a basket, food.  So you get that a lot out here.

   

   Cole:  How would you describe the Navajo economic

system as compared to the Anglo system?

   

   Malone:  As compared to the Anglo?  Well, it's

changed a lot.  The younger generation are like us.

You know, they run their checkbooks, they have jobs,

they know what things are.  The older generation, like

my mother-in-law, in fact, they know about getting

their check on the first of the month, and there's a

belief around among the Anglo community, I think, that

every Navajo or every Indian gets a check.  The only

checks the Navajo get are the ones that are deserved

of--whether they're on retirement, Social Security,

disability, something like that--they just don't go in

and pick up a check every month.  It's like in the

Anglo world:  if we deserve a check for something, we

get a check for it.  But the ones that do, the older

ones, during the month they might run short on cash, so

they go to town with their nice jewelry and pawn it at

a pawn shop.  Then during the next month, they either

go in and take it out, or they pay on the pawn.  So

they kind of have a different thing about money than we

do.  Their money, you might say, is tied up in their

jewelry.  We got our money tied up in a checkbook, so

to speak.  So they have a different sense of what money

is.  They would probably rather go out and buy a nice

bracelet or a belt or some old beads, and consider that

as their money, so that they know they can always go

somewhere and get a quick loan on it.  Where us, if

we've gotta go get a quick loan, it's gonna take ten

pages and three weeks of work before the bank's gonna

okay it for us.  We can't just walk in a bank and

borrow $300 that easy anymore.  A Navajo can take a

nice concho belt to a pawn dealer and pick up $300

without any trouble.  So they probably tried the bank

thing, some of 'em, and they're not impressed with how

much time it takes and the trouble it is, so they'd

just rather go to a pawn shop and get their money when

they need it, that way.

   

   Cole:  I was sort of curious, when you were talking

about the fellow with the two wallets.  Was that kind

of unusual that somebody would keep that much cash?

   

   Malone:  Well, I don't know if he was around when

the banks went broke or not, but he probably decided

he'd better have it all in his back pocket, (chuckles)

because he was his own bank.  I never knew how much he

carried at one time, but I know he had thousands of

dollars on him at times.

   (aside about backhoe, tape turned off and on)

   

   Cole:  Bill, we were talking about your years at

Piñon Trading Post.  Were you just the manager there,

or did you have a buy-in or anything?

   

   Malone:  No, I was just the assistant manager, and

then the manager.  I didn't have a buy-in there, or I'd

still be there, 'til about 2033, I think.  Cliff McGee

and myself talked about buying his interest one time,

and I got to thinking, "God, I'll never be able to get

this obligation off my chest," so I didn't go for the

buy-in.

   

   Cole:  And you worked for Cliff McGee?

   

   Malone:  Right, Cliff McGee.

   

   Cole:  And what was he like?

   

   Malone:  He was really a nice fellow, well-liked by

the Navajos.  He was the kind of a trader that would

fly in.  He'd come in two or three days a week, and

later on, maybe one or two.  But always on paydays and

things like that.  I guess you might say I was there in

the interim.  But there were two or three of us at the

trading post all the time, and quite a few Navajos

there, too.  I still do business with one of the

Navajos that used to work at the trading post at Piñon.

He and his wife come down here and sell me rugs and do

a little credit now and then, a loan now and then.  We

do do some loans here at Hubbell, but we don't charge

interest on it, because of the Federal Trade Commission

money laws--it's just too much of a harassment to mess

with FTC on the reservation.

   

   Cole:  Were you at Piñon when the FTC hearings took

place?

   

   Malone:  I was at Piñon when the FTC hearings came

out.  I don't know how they picked Piñon, but I think

they wanted to know who the biggest trader on the

reservation was, and I think Cliff thought he was.  And

they just picked on him.  I mean, they picked him,

singled him out mostly, and they really ran him through

the paces.  I mean, they had a law in effect, and they

waited about a year 'til after it was over, and they

came back and everybody was out of compliance.  They

could have got the whole reservation.  But they really

picked on Cliff McGee, and he paid it off.  He got

fined, and he paid off his debts and what not.  I think

they went around....  I think they even came here to

Hubbell's.  I think Hubbell's had a little run-in with

'em, but not as much of a run-in as they did at Piñon.

But the bad thing about what they did, they did a lot

of what I call unethical reporting.  If something would

have been two dollars in the trading post, they

reported it was four.  Everything was out of context.

It hit the national news.  I got letters from little

old ladies in Cincinnati, Ohio, about what a mean old

guy I was, or mean young kid I was, or things like

that, and I didn't appreciate it, but there was nothing

you could do about it.  It happened, and it just kinda

went by.

   What really happened on the reservation was pawn

went away.  That really scared all the traders who were

doing pawn on the side, to get out of the pawn

business.  All the pawn went to town, family heirlooms

were probably lost.  We were talking about Navajos and

their pawn.  A trader on the reservation would never,

never kill somebody's good pawn, because they're gonna

lose the whole family's business.  So they would always

keep their pawn for 'em a year, two years, three years.

In town, when people go to town and pawn their pawn,

they'd better get it out when the deadline is due.

There's a few pawn dealers that would let a family keep

their pawn over the time limit.  I would say one would

be Mr. Griswold in Tse Bonito.  That's off the Navajo

Reservation line.  Probably Mr. Richardson in Gallup.

But there are very few of 'em, that if their pawn is on

a deadline and it's a nice enough piece to go for a lot

of bucks somewhere, it's gonna be dead and gone.  So

when the FTC hearings were final, the traders on the

reservation quit pawning.  I only know one that is

doing pawn now, and that would be Van Kuren [phonetic

spelling] in Tuba City.  And I think a Navajo owning

the business doesn't have to adhere to the FTC laws--as

far as I know.  So that's probably their way around any

FTC laws.  And they do adhere to the law on the

reservation, which is you have to keep it for twelve to

thirteen months.  And in business, if you're going to

do 1½ percent, essentially what you're doing is loaning

$100.  At the end of a year it's accrued to $118.  You

probably figure you can do more with your $100 in

business and make $18 profit in a year's time.  So

that's another reason there's no pawn on the

reservation.

   

   Cole:  What exactly....  You talked about Cliff

getting put through the wringer.  What specific types

of things happened?

   

   Malone:  They even do it today.  If you go to town,

you pawn something for ten dollars, there's an up-front

10 percent charge on the pawn.  Well, with the new

Federal Trade Commission law, that's illegal, you can

only charge $1.80.  Or would it be $1.80 on $10.00?

No, it wouldn't be.  What's 1½ percent?

   

   Cole:  A dollar and a half, on ten.

   

   Malone:  Yeah.  So that's the legal limit.  No, it'd

be less than that, wouldn't it?

   

   Cole:  Fifteen cents.  Yeah, that's right.

   

   Malone:  Fifteen cents.  So that's the legal limit

for the pawn on the reservation.  And in town, they can

charge you 10 percent and a chart set-up fee, and

things like that, so it's pretty lucrative.  I think

even in Flagstaff, the lucrative thing to do in pawn

is, I don't know, a $5.00 to $8.00 set-up fee on a

pawned article.  So just writin' up the ticket, you're

$5.00 to $8.00 ahead right there, just for doin' the

ticket on the pawn transaction.  And that doesn't

adhere on the reservation.  So he was chargin' that.

And then on cash loans, 10 percent was the norm out

here.  And when you say 10 percent at one whack, well

that turns into 180 percent on a yearly basis, so

that's where the traders were breaking the law, and

that's what got 'em in trouble.  But I know at the time

that happened, every trader out here was still taking

pawn.  The Gap was taking pawn, I imagine Lij Blair was

taking pawn, but I know when that all happened,

everybody just "Whoa!" just backed up, closed their

pawn doors, quit taking pawn.  It just all went away.

And the Navajos still had the need to pawn, and now

they have to go off the reservation to pawn.  And I've

heard local people at chapter houses say, "We need to

get the pawn laws changed," you know, as late as a year

ago, two years ago, "because all of this money is

leaving the reservation, and none of it's staying here.

It all goes off, out of town."  You go to town....

Well, if you need fifty dollars, and you have to go to

town to get it, the first thing that happens is, "Well,

we gotta put some gas in the car.  We're hungry, we

gotta go eat."  You're lucky if you come back home with

ten dollars of that fifty you needed to maybe pay your

utilities or something.  So it's pretty tough to go to

town and do pawn.  I mean, it's not tough to pawn, but

it's tough to get home with your money, because all the

glitters are there, all the needs.  You need the money

back here to pay UNTA, but yet you're gonna have to

spend money to get home and probably money to eat while

you're there.

   

   Cole:  I guess you've described a little bit, but

how did that then change Piñon Trading Post, not being

able to take pawn?

   

   Malone:  Well, I think it probably slowed it down a

little bit, because after all, it's another money

transaction that makes money.  So it's just something

that you don't have that amount of money to depend on.

Although I know most pawn dealers that are in the

business, it's an enormous expense just to build up the

pawn so that your interest will start steam-rollin'

along to kind of take care of things.  But in the

meantime, you've got this vast amount of jewelry or

other items, whether you're doing rifles or saddles or

shawls or things like that, and it takes a vast area to

store 'em.  So it all kind of works against each other.

You think you're making money, but you've got to pay a

lot of rent, or you've got to pay storage, or things

like that.  And then if you ever have a fire or

something, you're liable for a big chunk of things like

that, and it's quite an investment to carry insurance

on things like that.  But the thing that it did do to

the whole reservation is it cut off any more cash pawn

or cash loan dealings, and it all started going to town

or off the reservation.  So I'm sure it hurt all your

local traders.

   I've primarily been involved in trading posts where

they were twofold:  they bought rugs, they bought

crafts, and you sell 'em.  So I don't think a trading

post out here, unless it's something like a Thriftway

operation, that only sells soda pop, candy bars, and

quick things, is gonna make it.  You've got to have a

flow of people around to keep that business going.  If

you're a trading post and you don't do crafts, I don't

think you're going to survive out here.

   

   Cole:  What kinds of arts and crafts were going on

at Piñon?

   

   Malone:  We bought jewelry from people--mostly rugs.

Bought a lot of rugs, and big rugs.  That was the home

of the big rugs on the Navajo Reservation, actually.

We did a lot of baskets and other things like that.

And then during the rest of the year, in season, you

bought wool in the spring, you bought lambs in the

fall.  If you had a good year with piñons, which there

hasn't been any around for a while, you bought piñons

when piñons were comin' off the trees.  It's pretty

tough to go piñon pickin' at less than a dollar a

pound, because you gotta fill up your gas tank, buy

some food, and go out there and sit in the hills and

pick up those piñons under the trees.  And if it isn't

a dollar a pound or more, it's not economical for

people to go pickin' piñons anymore.  And it used to be

kind of a fun thing.  But on the other side of it, the

monetary thing is there too.  My wife and my kids have

gone out picking piñons, and you know, you'll be gone

for a day and overnight, and you come back with two

coffee cans full of piñons and you can't relate that to

money and time.  You'd have to be frugal to make any

money out of it, 'cause you're out there eating and

spending money on gas and things like that.  So it's a

hard way to make money, on piñons.

   

   Cole:  Was the Piñon Trading Post, when you started,

primarily a cash business, or was there still a lot of

credit?

   

   Malone:  No, it was primarily credit.  In those

days, I can remember welfare checks were like thirty

dollars, and of course we're talking 1962, 1963.  But

can you imagine getting along on thirty dollars a

month?!  I mean, that'd be pretty tough.  Of course, I

think pop was probably fifteen cents then, but that

still doesn't relate to what you can live on.  I think

in today's margin of the thirty-dollar check, it's

probably built itself up to around five hundred

dollars.  I think people in control of those kind of

things, personally--I've always been kind of a Democrat

person all my life.  When I went to Piñon, I was signed

up as a Republican, but there were no Republicans out

there.  I got tired of not seeing anybody on the

ballot, so I signed up Democrat, but I still vote

however I feel or [for] whoever I want to.  But I think

every congressman or every senator or something, they

should give 'em five hundred bucks a month, kick 'em

out in the middle of a reservation somewhere, and let

'em see if they can live on that five hundred a month,

see how tough it is.  They might learn a lesson.

   Most of the traders I know probably claim to be a

Republican.  I even used to tell my boss--he would

complain about welfare this, welfare that--and I said,

"That's how we make our living.  Why are you

complaining?"  At Hubbell's, we're not really tuned-

into making our living off of welfare--it's off of the

crafts.

   

   Cole:  And then how did Piñon evolve?  Did it become

more cash-oriented, say, after the pawn and stuff went

out?

   

   Malone:  I would say it became more cash-oriented,

yeah.  But there were still people doing credit when I

left Piñon.  Now they have a big Basha's Store there,

and it's probably evolved into--the last time I was

there, they had a café in what would have been the

grocery store part of it.  They moved the grocery store

part out to the gas station, and made kind of a Quik

Stop out of that, and they have where the office and

yard goods used to be--the dry goods, so to speak--

turned into a hardware store.  So it's really changed a

lot.  And it's the same thing in any of your businesses

in town.  It's kind of hard to compete if you've got

Wal-Mart in town that sells everything, or K-Mart.  And

if you were the local TG&Y or a little hardware store,

or a little mom and pop store, it's kind of hard to

compete if you've got a big Shop-o-rama right next door

to you.  So you have to change, or you just go away.

   

   Cole:  Who are some of your favorite weavers from

Piñon?

   

   Malone:  Oh, golly.  Esther Beck was a good weaver.

Her daughter Phyllis.  Lucille Silver.  I guess the

Bajis [phonetic spelling] who were just here today,

from Whippoorwill.  Darlene Baji.  Ruth Todachini

[phonetic spelling].  There's just probably hundreds of

'em.  I can't name 'em all off.  I could just keep

rollin' names along.  We even have a girl that used to

babysit our kids that's turned into a fantastic weaver.

Her name is Barbara Tso [phonetic spelling].  Her

mother Ruby is a good weaver.  There's just....  Eloise

Geeshee [phonetic spelling].  Mary John Begay.  Helen

Shoney [phonetic spelling].  There's just a lot of good

weavers in Piñon--lots of 'em.  And there's a lot of

'em here at Ganado.  I know weavers from Cameron to Two

Grey Hills to Gallup to Piñon--lots of weavers.  I

mean, we've got a lot of weavers that come here.

   

   Cole:  How do you go about buying a rug?

   

   Malone:  I guess like today, I told you I had to buy

two rugs that turned into four.  I probably throw 'em

down on the floor, look at 'em a little bit, talk to

the weaver a little bit about what she thinks she

wants, and make my offer.  I got turned down once

today.  I bought six rugs and one went to town.  The

one that went to town was really a nice rug, but it had

an eagle in the middle of it, and to me it'd be a hard

rug to sell.  Some people might like eagles on their

rug, but it was such a big rug that it would have to

hang on the wall to do it any justice.  It was really

made to be a floor rug.  We were just a hundred dollars

off.  I could have bought it for $1,500.  I think I

offered $1,400 on it.  It was one of those things where

it's a judgement call, and I didn't know if I really

wanted it that bad or not.  But the other rugs I

bought, I like, and I'll be real happy with.  Like I

said, I've bought so many rugs that I can throw a rug

out and look at it and kind of tell if it's off center,

if the sides are crooked, color changes or other things

that happen with rugs.  It doesn't take me long to look

at a rug and figure what I can get for it.  And I try

to pay as much as I can for a rug.  I don't try to beat

somebody to death on the price.  I want to be fair.  If

I can do it, I do it.  And I've had a lot of ladies go

to town and bring their rugs back when they didn't get

the offer that I offered them here.  (aside about

light, tape turned off and on)

   When I re-met Bruce Burnham, so to speak, he and his

wife had come by one time down here when I'd just moved

here, because that's about the time I met him, right

before I came here.  I asked them what they were doing,

and they said they did the roadshows--went out and sold

jewelry and rugs and baskets or whatever.  I had a real

rough pile of little rugs I'd bought from Mr. Jensen

over at Crystal.  Bruce didn't want to mess with 'em.

His wife said, "I'll try 'em."  And she took 'em out

and sold 'em (snaps fingers) that quick.  They came

back and said, "We want some more!"  I said, "I don't

have any more.  I mean, that's all I had," I said.

"Besides that, if I sold you something that I got here

at Hubbell's, it'd probably cost you a little more than

these did.  You're living right in rug country at

Sanders.  Why don't you start buying your own?"  At

that time he was kind of streamlined into jewelry.  And

I'd say that's probably when Bruce really started

kickin' in the rugs again, 'cause he'd done rugs at

Dinnebito, but he hadn't done rugs at Sanders or at

Corina [phonetic spelling] when he was down there.  But

I would say that's probably when he jump-started rugs

again, and he's really gone a long ways with it.  But

he's kind of gone through the Burntwater series, and

now he's in the Germantowns.  He's really doing some

fantastic things with the Germantown rugs.

   

   Cole:  Do you have any favorite memories associated

with buying or trading rugs?

   

   Malone:  I think one of my most favorite memories

about rugs was when I was leaving Piñon, a grandma by

the name of Helen Bly wove me a chief wedding blanket

style rug and gave it to me as a going away gift.  And

that was very dear to me.  I mean, it still is.  I

still have the rug, it's stored away somewhere.  But I

don't know too many traders that when they left town,

somebody gave 'em a $1,500-$2,000 rug and said, "Here's

a gift, take this with you as you leave."  And I bought

a lot of rugs from her even after I came here.  She

died a while back of cancer, and it was very sad.  But

that's one of my most favorite times of buying a rug.

And I buy a lot of rugs.  I buy rugs from weavers

here....  You buy rugs, and then you buy rugs that are,

"Oh, gosh, this is really nice.  This is something I'd

like to own."  But you can't own all the nice rugs that

you see comin' down the trail, because you'd have to be

a millionaire to do it.  So you could just say, "That's

mine, that's mine."  But I do buy a lot of nice rugs

that really make me feel good inside when I buy 'em.

And I hope I make the weaver feel good too, when she

sells 'em.

   

   Cole:  You mentioned that at Piñon you bought

baskets, too.  Was that....

   

   Malone:  Well, mostly you might say I bought baskets

from medicine men.  We bought a few new ones, but the

basket capital of the Navajo Reservation would be like

Navajo Mountain, Inscription House, up in that area.

That's where they really make most of the baskets.

They do a few around Kayenta, and they do some up in

Utah, but not down here, as a rule.  There's only one

lady I know in this whole area, down at Steamboat, that

makes baskets.  They're not as nice as the ones I see

coming in that come in from the northern reservation.

But most of the baskets we bought, or the baskets I buy

now are mostly from medicine men.  It's part of their

ware, or part of their monetary gain of doing a

ceremony.  And when you do a ceremony, you need a

basket.  If it's a three-day ceremony, you might need

three baskets.  That becomes the property of the

medicine man.  After he gets it, he usually goes out

and sells it to a trading post or somebody he knows.

He will sell it to a Navajo if they say they need a

basket, but a lot of times he doesn't want to dicker

with 'em on the price, so he just comes in, "Bill, I

got three baskets.  You want 'em, you look at 'em, you

buy 'em."  I've probably got more baskets than anybody

else on the reservation.  I sold one this morning, two

yesterday.  They just come in all the time.  So we've

got more baskets than we need.  When I first came to

Hubbell's, they had a stack of baskets on the stove--

about four or five of 'em--and there was a sign there

that said, "These are for Navajos only.  We cannot sell

these to Anglos."  And I didn't even realize the sign

was there, but somebody asked me about it, and they

were mad as heck about it and said, "How come I can't

buy that basket?  I've got money.  What's the deal

here?"  I asked one of the girls who said, "Well, we

just can't get any baskets."  I said, "Well, I'll get

the baskets."  So you just put the word out, and here

they come.

   

   Cole:  What about jewelry at Piñon?

   

   Malone:  They had two styles there.  They had what

we call old style and then about that time the chip

inlay, the Tommy Singer style of jewelry kicked in, and

everybody in town--he had some relatives there, and

everybody in town was makin' 'em.  We bought Tommy

Singer stuff at the trading post 'til it was just

hangin' out of drawers and what[not].  That style of

jewelry kind of came and went away.  Now it's back to

either contemporary or traditional style.  There's a

lot of craftspeople in the area.  I won't call 'em

craftspeople--they're artists, they're master

silversmiths.  We've got some of the biggest names in

the world that live right around Ganado or were born

here.  Ray Tracey is from Ganado, and he's well-known

in the jewelry business.  Raymond Yazzi lived here.

He's really from south of Gallup, but he lived here for

a number of years.  Tommy Jackson.  My son-in-law,

whose name is Perry Shorty.  Eddie Begay lives here.

There's just a myriad of artists that sell their

jewelry here at Hubbell's.  Phil and Fannie Russell--

they do contemporary things.  And he bounces back and

forth.  He'll do contemporary, and then he'll do

traditional.  We just have a lot of silversmiths here

at Ganado--more than you can find money to buy their

jewelry with.

   

   Cole:  What would some of your favorite memories at

Piñon have been?

   

   [END SIDE 1, BEGIN SIDE 2]

   

   Cole:  This is Brad Cole from Northern Arizona

University.  We're visiting with Bill Malone at his

home at the Hubbell Trading Post National Historic

Site.  It's August 14, 1998.  [This is Side 2.]

   Bill, you'd talked about a photographer earlier.

   

   Malone:  Right, I made a misquote on a book that was

full of photographs of old people from Piñon.  I used

the name Jerry Jack.  I should in fact have used the

name Ray Manley, as the person who [took] those

photographs.

   

   Cole:  We were sort of wondering, when you moved to

Piñon and you were recently married, apparently you had

several children there.  What was life like for your

family at Piñon Trading Post?

   

   Malone:  I think my kids liked it a lot.  They might

or might not have fond memories.  I know when we left

Piñon, my kids didn't want to move to Ganado.  They

wanted to stay in Piñon.  Part of 'em went to school in

the boarding school there, because they were half

Navajo.  And then later on they started runnin' buses

up from Chinle to take 'em to school in Chinle, which

was a forty-eight-mile one-way drive, which is a long

drive, but it's not the longest out here.  I think

there's some longer drives around than that.  I think

the one from Greasewood to Holbrook is farther.  But my

kids spent a lot of time on the schoolbuses, just going

to school and coming back.  I guess they had a lot of

fun.  They used to go horseback riding, they had a lot

of Navajo friends that they played with, they grew up

with Navajos.

   I can remember, oh, a couple of instances.  One time

the wife and I were out driving around, looking for our

kids, and out in the distance there were three kids

going by on horses, and their hair was just straight

back.  I made a comment about, "Those kids are crazy.

One of 'em might get killed.  I wonder whose kids those

are?"  My wife said, "You'd better look again.  Two of

'em are our daughters."  But they used to go out and

ride horses, like kids would anywhere.

   I remember another instance of one of our daughters

getting sick--our oldest daughter--and my wife took her

to the hospital, and she was gone and back.  I didn't

put a time on it, but I knew it was awful quick to go

to Keams Canyon and come back.  About two days later

the daughter cleared up and was real well.  I stuck my

foot in my mouth, "See what the white man doctor can do

for you?"  And she said, "Well, I hate to tell you, but

I took her to a medicine woman."  So the Indian healers

do have knowledge of how to heal a lot of sickness out

here, and can really do some neat things with people.

I suppose most of 'em, after they have a ceremony or

something, will tell you, "After my ceremony is done,

why don't you go see the white man doctor now, and see

if you can get a second opinion," so to speak.  But I

was really surprised, my daughter was deathly sick, and

she cleared up that quick.  And it was just some herbs

that a lady knew what to use for.  And they worked real

fine.  It's things like that, that people out here

wouldn't expect that to happen.  They might associate a

medicine man with a witch doctor or something like

that, but not true.  They have fantastic healing

capabilities--for certain things.  Some things might be

beyond their realm, but for a lot of things they can

handle things like that.

   I guess it's hard to bring back a lot of those

memories because it seems like there were so many good

things happening that I can't remember that there were

any bad things.  Everything was real nice.  All my kids

loved their time at Piñon, and they really liked it.

We've got fond memories of 'em goin' to the fair every

year.  Of course, being doting parents, we had to dress

'em up and hang 'em out in Navajo beal, the rug dress,

and put the jewelry on 'em and everything.  And when

they got old enough to tell me, "Dad, we really enjoy

going to the fair, but we didn't like to have to wear

those scratchy, hot dresses," 'cause it was in the

summertime and it'd be real hot.  So when they got to

be thirty-fourish, they told me how hot and scratchy

they were.  But they like their pictures that they were

in.  It's really neat for the way they grew up.  They

all grew up good.

   

   Cole:  What about your wife?  Did she ever work at

the trading post?

   

   Malone:  My wife became a postmaster at Piñon, so

she didn't really work at the trading post.  The kids

worked around it sometimes, on things like helping me

stock.  The oldest daughter worked at the trading post

'til shortly after I left there.  She married a Navajo

who became a policeman.  They lived there for a while,

and then they moved to Cottonwood, and then on down to

Chinle.  As far as working there and getting wages, no,

they didn't work there and get wages.  They were just

kind of, like most kids around a trading post, free

help.  And I think a lot of kids that got that,

traders' kids, got too much of it, and they went away

from the trading posts and never came back.  But I know

a lot of kids that are that way--or a lot of traders--

their family didn't care about the trading post, they

went somewhere else after they got away from it.

   I hired my daughter when I first came here, but I

got the....  What's the term?

   

   Cole:  Nepotism?

   

   Malone:  Nepotism slapped on me.  So I said,

"Daughter, I hate to do this to you, but I gotta fire

you."  So she didn't work here anymore.

   Out here on the Navajo side, I would say just about

everybody's related.  You can probably go down to the

store and find a lot of people that are related to each

other, but it's hard not to find that happening on the

Navajo Reservation, because you've got four clans that

you can work off--two on your dad's side, and two on

your mom's side.  With those four clans roamin' around,

you can run into relatives real easy out here.

   

   Cole:  How did your wife come to be the postmaster?

   

   Malone:  When we first went to Piñon, there was

another lady who was the postmaster, and they moved

away.  She became interim, so to speak, and was

later....  At that time, congressional people would

appoint a postmaster in an area, and Sam Steiger is the

one that appointed my wife to be the postmaster at

Piñon.  I don't know, she might have been the first

Navajo postmaster on the reservation--could have been,

I'm not sure.

   

   Cole:  I'll jump back one more time.  Did you and

your wife have a traditional wedding ceremony?

   

   Malone:  When my wife and I got married, we probably

didn't think about a traditional marriage.  We were

gonna get married at a church, and for some reason or

other--this was a preacher she knew--he didn't want to

perform the marriage.  I don't know if it was because

she was marrying a white guy or what, it didn't happen.

So we got married by the magistrate court judge in

Gallup.  There weren't too many mixed marriages when we

first got married.  There were a few around.  I guess

Bill over at Torch Cavern had been married for quite a

while.  I think I beat Bruce to the punch--I know I

did.  I don't think Hank had been married yet.  Hank

would have been after he got out of Vietnam.  So

there's not too many out here that were, but there's a

few.

   

   Underhill:  How were you treated as a mixed couple?

   

   Malone:  I think we had problems with both our

families for a while, but we probably became the most

stable out of everybody.  I've been very well accepted

by Navajo and everybody else out here, actually.  So we

don't have any problems, we never did.  And probably

the reason was we lived the farthest away from

everybody.  They had to come see us, or we had to go

see them.  But everything worked out real fine.  And

everybody else I know that's married Navajos has seemed

to get along real fine.  I mean, marriages, like

anything else, it works for some, and [doesn't for

others].  It's that way on both sides of the fence--it

doesn't matter what world you're in, if you're in

Navajo world, Hopi world, or what.  I think Navajos

accept a mixed marriage more so than a lot of other

tribes do.  All my kids have census numbers, all my

grandkids have census numbers, so technically they're

Navajos.  And most of my grandkids are three-quarter,

because my kids have married Navajos.  So the kids are

three-quarter.  They're more Navajo than my kids are.

   

   Cole:  And what would be some of your best memories

of Piñon?

   

   Malone:  Oh, I don't know.  I don't know about best

memories, but I can remember when we had the big snow

one year, and we were stuck in the front yard for about

two weeks, couldn't go anywhere.  We were snowbound.

The Navajos that did get around were coming in on

horses.  And even when they had the constant rains

during the spring--when it should have been snow, it

was rain--and the ground was three feet deep in mud,

the only way you could get around was to come in on a

horse.  Helicopters were flying around everywhere.  It

was a trying time.  I guess it was a hard time.  But it

all turns into fun if you go out and play in the snow

or have a mudball fight or something like that.

   

   Cole:  Do you remember what years those were?

   

   Malone:  The big snow was in the sixties--I think

the late sixties.  And the muddy time was a couple of

times, and that was in the seventies.

   

   Cole:  And when did you move to Hubbell Trading

Post?

   

   Malone:  We moved here in 1981, about May of 1981.

   

   Cole:  And what attracted you to change?

   

   Malone:  A man named Art White, for the Park

Service, came out and asked if I'd interview for the

job.  And I didn't want the job, really.  I didn't want

to move.  Everything was at Piñon, I hated to move, my

kids were entrenched in school in Chinle.  But I told

him I'd interview for the job.  I came down and

interviewed and was selected for the job by Southwest

Parks and Monuments.  I said, "Uh-oh, now I gotta

move!"  And it seemed like I left lots of memories and

lots of good things, and a lot of stuff at Piñon

because I just didn't have anywhere to store it or

anywhere to pack it.  I went back and got some of it

and lost some of it.  It was sad to leave, but I still

see a lot of the old friends we had at Piñon come by

and see us here.  Just like two of the ladies who came

in today--well, three of 'em actually.  They were from

the Piñon area.  I knew 'em there, and I still know 'em

here.

   

   Cole:  You mentioned that Hubbell and Piñon were

sort of similar, but what are some of the differences,

working here?

   

   Malone:  Well, for similar, they were both Hubbell

posts.  Piñon was a Hubbell post, which I knew.  About

the only thing they had left of Hubbell when I was

there was the safe inside.  "John Lorenzo Hubbell" was

on the safe in the pawn room.  I guess the only reason

it's still there is the safe door is smaller than the

safe, so you can't get it out of there.  But the

similar things were they're both rock buildings, they

were built in the early 1900s.  Actually, this was the

first store, so to speak.  Actually, it was the second

store.

   The first store for Hubbell was across town here in

Ganado, by the lake.  Somebody died in that store.  The

story goes that a Navajo that died there was being

chased by some other people for being a witchcraft

person.  And they killed him or shot him right in the

doorway of the store.  So that became ch’íidii to the

Navajo, they would not go in that store, they would not

buy any of the groceries in that store.  They didn't

want anything out of that store.  And I don't know what

Mr. Hubbell did with all of the stuff he had in the

store.  I don't know how he could have brought it

across town, 'cause the Navajo in those days, knowing

that something like that would happen, wouldn't want

any food or anything from a place like that.  So I

don't know what he did about that.  But he came to this

present site, and there was a man named William Leonard

here.  And he bought in and bought him out, and

Mr. Leonard left.  And then out of the old trading

post, he started the post we have today.  The jewelry

room and the rug room would have been the first two new

buildings on the site, which would have been the

grocery and the wareroom.  And then he added on the

grocery store, bull pen, the wareroom, the barn was

goin' up.  There's an old photograph that shows all of

that with the old, what they called "Leonard Building,"

which would have turned into the home.  And then later

on, I know, like most women, Mrs. Hubbell said, "I want

a new home," and she got the grandiose home that's

there right now.  And I guess the Leonard buildings

were used for a few years, probably as storage or

what[ever], and they finally caved in and went away.

They had dirt roofs, so they probably didn't want to go

to the expense of putting a tar roof on it, so they

just caved in.  They tore 'em down and hauled 'em away.

   The things that would have been different about

Hubbell's here at Ganado and Piñon would be Piñon was

primarily a Navajo store where you worked with Navajos.

You had a few visitors come, or a few dealers to buy

rugs and things like that--but not so much as it is

here at Hubbell's.  It's probably just the exact

difference here.  You have mostly people coming to buy

rugs, and less people coming to buy groceries.

   

   Cole:  And you still buy rugs in the same manner

here?

   

   Malone:  Same manner as what?  The way I've been

doin' it for thirty-five years?

   Cole:  As Piñon.

   

   Malone:  Yeah, we still buy rugs kinda the same

manner.  But it's a lot different.  In 1963, I could

buy a rug that would fill the floor of this house--I'm

talking something that would have been a twelve by

eighteen or something like that.  They were only $350-

$500 dollars in those days.  Today, to buy a rug like

that, they could run anywhere from $15,000 to $20,000--

a big rug.  So things have changed.  And little rugs, I

know weavers that get $2,500 for a small tapestry rug,

$4,000, $5,000.  Nobody ever dreamed that rugs were

gonna cost that much in those days.  And it's a demand,

as long as the public will pay that for a rug, for a

nice work, the demand will be there.  And I know

weavers that have quit weaving because they say, "I

can't get the price I used to get for my rug.  I'm not

going to make any."  But a lot of other younger weavers

step up and fill that demand there--maybe not for the

price that their grandma got, or their mom got, but

they're still weaving.

   

   Cole:  What is the future of weaving?

   

   Malone:  I think weavings will be around for a long

time.  They are getting smaller and more expensive.

It's probably gonna weed out a lot of weavers.  I think

a lot of traders--I don't know, a lot of traders will

probably say there are a lot of rugs around still--and

there are, but there's less of us buying rugs now.

You've got Hank Blair--and he's at Lukachukai.  You've

got really nobody buying rugs in Chinle.  I would say

really nobody buying rugs in Kayenta.  Navajo Mountain

is gone.  Inscription House, they buy rugs.  Shonto

kinda used to, but I don't think it's like it was.

Keams Canyon buys rugs.  Piñon buys a few--they're not

buying as many as they used to, or they would have

bought the three I got today from that area.  Bruce

buys 'em down south here at Sanders.  The Navajo Tribe

buys 'em in Window Rock.  Two Grey Hills, Toadlena,

Shiprock, and that's about it for the reservation.  So

all the weavers you have on the reservation now either

have to hit the few places that buy 'em, or they have

to go to town, or go to Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Sedona,

Flagstaff.  I know there's a lot of rugs around, and

there's not that many that are of collector quality.  I

mean, everything is collectable, but some people want

the most fantastic thing they can find.  And of course,

along with that, they want the best price they can get

too, so it's a twofold thing.

   

   Cole:  What about the difference between Ganado--

rugs that are produced in Ganado versus Piñon?  Are

they a different style?

   

   Malone:  Well, being in the rug business for as long

as I [have], it's real hard to generalize and just go

right through the different rug styles.  Here at

Ganado, there's a lot of weavers that can cross over

and do a lot of different weavings.  Like, if [they]

can weave a Ganado, they can do a good Burntwater, or

they can do a good Two Grey Hills, or they can do a

Klagetoh.  I think the rug I find that's harder for any

of 'em at all to do is the Wide Ruins rug, which comes

from down south of us.  And there's no Wide Ruins

Trading Post anymore, so those rugs are kinda just

goin' everywhere.  But I find that an exceptional

weaver that does a Wide Ruins rug cannot be duplicated,

so to speak, by a weaver from another area.  So that

would be one of the hardest to do, I think.  But Ganado

has always been known for its Ganado Red rugs.  But the

Ganado area, because of Mr. Hubbell, was a big area.  I

mean, Piñon was a Hubbell post, so they did a lot of

Ganado style weavings from the Piñon area.  And I think

everybody kinda does what's really hittin' it right

now.  Of course, I can always sell a good rug of any

area weaving--whether it's Two Grey, Teec Nos Pos,

yé’iis, Wide Ruins, Ganado--any of 'em.  Probably two

of the newer innovations on weaving lately are the

raised outline Coal Mine Mesa rug has been converted

over with the Teec pattern.  And that's really helped

that rug a lot.  The Burntwater rug came into being,

and has really gone through the paces.  There's two

other types of weaving around right now.  One is what

Bruce Burnham is doing in Sanders with the revival of

the Saxony pre-plied Germantown style of wool that the

Navajos wove with when they were taken by the

government to Bosque Redondo.  He's really doing a

great job with revivals on the Germantowns.  There's

some other rugs comin' around into being, primarily

caused by a fellow named Professor or Dr. Lyle MacNeal

[phonetic spelling], Utah State University, with the

Chair-ell [phonetic spelling] wool.  And there are some

great Chair-ell wool rugs comin' out now that are

exceptional.  I mean, they're a fine quality and

they're really great rugs, and we have a few of 'em

down at Hubbell's.

   What else can I say?

   

   Cole:  What do you think makes a good trader?

   

   Malone:  I think the number one attribute is

honesty.  Second would be you have to be a little

benevolent.  Third, you just have to have....  I've

seen good traders go sour because they get too cross,

too cranky.  And maybe that comes with old age.  But

when you get somebody that gets to be cranky all the

time, you start losing your customers.  And honesty--I

mean, you can do somebody bad once, but they're not

comin' back for seconds.  And especially in this day

and age, they're not tied down to anybody.  They're on

four wheels, and that truck can take 'em wherever they

want to go--whether it's Gallup, Flagstaff, Phoenix,

whatever.  If you're not right with 'em, they can get

in their car and go.  Like in the days of old, where

they were in wagons....  When I first went to Piñon

there were probably fifteen wagons there.  I'm not

saying people were tied down, but they would have a

harder time traveling somewhere.  But the people in

pickups don't have trouble traveling.  If they were at

Dinnebito or wherever they were, if the trader wasn't

right with 'em, they just got in their car and went.

   I think most of the traders that have been out here

have been pretty nice with the Navajos.  I mean, you

don't hear that many bad trader stories around.  You

might hear a few, but there's always two sides to a

story, and most of the time people just take one side.

I suppose there's been some rough guys out here.  I've

known some rough guys that were....  I've been around

when I thought traders were rough, like visiting

another place, and I thought, "Boy, I don't know how

that guy stays in business."  And pretty soon that

place is dried up and gone, or he left.  So if a trader

wasn't right with his clients, he wasn't gonna last too

long in an area.

   

   Cole:  What have you learned from the Navajo?

   

   Malone:  I'm still learnin'!  I've learned a lot of

things.  I mean, I've learned to respect their culture,

learned about their religion, learned what nice great

people they are.  I think along with learning from the

Navajo, I've watched a change, probably associated with

that thing [indicating satellite TV disc] right there.

I mean, even in a remote place, you see satellites now,

and Navajo kids growing up today, probably the thing

that's gonna hurt not the culture, but things like

weaving and what not, is Navajo kids want to be like

the guy next door, or the people next door.  They want

a nice car, they want a nice job, they want a nice

house.  And if you live out here entirely, sometimes

it's hard to do it.  So I've seen more Navajos in the

fields that they never were in before, like nursing,

teaching, superintendents, principals.  They've just

really come up.  And when I first came out on the

reservation, you were lucky to see a Navajo working as--

there were no Navajo teachers, there were a few working

at boarding schools, maybe as an aide or something like

that.  They didn't have any jobs of supervisory

capacities.  So that's all changed, and it's changing

fast.  Down at the trading post there's a couple of

girls going to college on the side.  I have a fellow

working there, who is a Hubbell descendant, by the way,

on the Navajo side, that is a medical technology person

in college.  He's in his senior year in college.  So

you've got these kind of kids coming up these days.

Even like my own, some went to college, some didn't

want to.  One of my daughters said, "Dad, please don't

send me to college.  I don't want to go."  Two of 'em

are goin' to college, one has a good job with the

postal service, one's been to college and is teaching.

So things are changing for Navajo kids out here on the

reservation.  And the older Navajos, a lot of 'em have

already--when I say "older," most of 'em about my age

have retired from working at schools or things like

that.  So it's a little different now than it was

thirty-five years ago.

   

   Cole:  What do you think you've taught the Navajo?

   

   Malone:  I hope I've taught 'em some good things.  I

mean, it's just nice to....  Well, like the other day,

I went into Gallup and I had to go see a guy, a trader,

Shash Yaz [phonetic spelling] in Gallup, Don Tanner.

And I walked in and I must have seen thirty people that

I knew, and everybody comes up and handshakes with you,

gives you a hug.  And that isn't because....  I mean,

that's because they like you, and you've made an inroad

somewhere, so they still respect you.  I hope I go down

as a trader that had respect with the Navajos I know--

and I know I will.

   

   Cole:  What have you learned from the Navajo?

   

   Malone:  I'm still learnin'!  I've learned a lot of

things.  I mean, I've learned to respect their culture,

learned about their religion, learned what nice great

people they are.  I think along with learning from the

Navajo, I've watched a change, probably associated with

that thing [indicating satellite TV disc] right there.

I mean, even in a remote place, you see satellites now,

and Navajo kids growing up today, probably the thing

that's gonna hurt not the culture, but things like

weaving and what not, is Navajo kids want to be like

the guy next door, or the people next door.  They want

a nice car, they want a nice job, they want a nice

house.  And if you live out here entirely, sometimes

it's hard to do it.  So I've seen more Navajos in the

fields that they never were in before, like nursing,

teaching, superintendents, principals.  They've just

really come up.  And when I first came out on the

reservation, you were lucky to see a Navajo working as--

there were no Navajo teachers, there were a few working

at boarding schools, maybe as an aide or something like

that.  They didn't have any jobs of supervisory

capacities.  So that's all changed, and it's changing

fast.  Down at the trading post there's a couple of

girls going to college on the side.  I have a fellow

working there, who is a Hubbell descendant, by the way,

on the Navajo side, that is a medical technology person

in college.  He's in his senior year in college.  So

you've got these kind of kids coming up these days.

Even like my own, some went to college, some didn't

want to.  One of my daughters said, "Dad, please don't

send me to college.  I don't want to go."  Two of 'em

are goin' to college, one has a good job with the

postal service, one's been to college and is teaching.

So things are changing for Navajo kids out here on the

reservation.  And the older Navajos, a lot of 'em have

already--when I say "older," most of 'em about my age

have retired from working at schools or things like

that.  So it's a little different now than it was

thirty-five years ago.

   

   Cole:  Let's switch gears a little bit.  Were you

ever a member of the United Indian Traders Association?

   

   Malone:  I was associated with 'em through Cliff.  I

mean, I went to a couple of their meetings with Cliff

McGee who is tied-into the United Indian Traders

Association.  Hubbell's was also a member of the United

Indian Traders Association.  I guess I went with Cliff

because he was a member of it, and I was his right-hand

man, so to speak.  It was just kind of a gathering once

a year, and everybody said their piece and complained

and moaned and did their thing, and everybody went back

home and waited for next year to come.

   

   Cole:  Do you remember some of the bigger issues

they grappled with?

   

   Malone:  I think they grappled a lot with the

Federal Trade Commission thing.  Other than that, it

was always the other things that were around, like

whatever the social service things were gonna do or

weren't gonna do, or what Social Security was doing, or

what the welfare programs were gonna do.  But I think

probably one of their big issues would have been the

Federal Trade Commission thing.  And that was probably

what I would call the nail in the coffin of the Traders

Association, because it kind of split everybody up and

got 'em goin' ten different directions, and it just

kinda died out.  It turned into a thing of there was no

way anybody could help anybody, and so the organization

just kind of went away.  But they did have a nice

coffer of money that was laying there in trust, so to

speak.

   

   Cole:  Did the Association help Cliff out when he

had his problems?

   

   Malone:  I don't think they did.  I think they

probably said that they couldn't.  Not that I know of,

if they did help him out.  I think he asked for some

help, but I don't think they helped him.

   

   Cole:  And then you said you attended a few annual

meetings.  What were those like?

   

   Malone:  I'm thinking they were around September,

October.  They were in Gallup.  They usually held the

meetings in Gallup.  It was just kind of go to town and

have a night out and have a meeting on Sunday and go

home.  Stay overnight in Gallup and be back to work the

next day.  I can't remember that much about 'em,

because I wasn't that involved with 'em.  I was just

like the assistant.

   

   Cole:  And why have you stayed in trading?

   

   Malone:  I don't know, I look at it, and it's kind

of like, "God, I don't know anything else!  What would

I do?"  I'd hate to have to go to town and be a car

salesman.  I suppose if I ever went somewhere else,

it'd have to be something associated with the arts and

crafts or something:  selling jewelry, selling rugs,

something like that.  There's a couple of times I

thought, "Well, I'll bail out of this and go do

something."  But I never really got that intent about

doing it.  I just like it out here.  I go to town

occasionally on a Friday night to see my girls in town,

and I'm back on Friday night.  I'm kind of a workaholic

trader.  Sometimes I'll work thirty days in a row.  I

just love my job.  I get up to go to work.  I know

traders....  I've always said I wouldn't be the kind of

a trader that moved to town and just drove in and did

five days, or did three days or two days.  I just like

it out here.  Every day's a challenge.  There's

something new that happens every day.

   

   Cole:  And if you could relive your life, would you

do anything differently?

   

   Malone:  No, I wouldn't do anything differently.  If

I would have known what was the hot spot to buy

something, I might have said, "I'll buy that trading

post," or something.  I can even remember when the Park

Service bought Hubbell's Trading Post, and I thought,

"That much money for that place?!  Why?"  And when

you're young and brash, you don't really go around and

look at a collection like they have that was amassed

here.  I mean, it is probably truly one of the better

Southwest art collections in the world.  I don't know

who else would have something to rival it, but it's

really a great one.

   Even when I lived at Piñon, I probably only stopped

here about three or four times.  We used to get off at

noon on Saturday, and it's one o'clock before the store

is cleared out and empty.  It's a two-hour run to

Gallup, and in those days, Gallup shut its shutters

down about six o'clock.  They didn't have the malls or

any of that.  So if anybody here is married, they know

how much the wife wants to get to town to do her

shopping.  So if anything, I used to come across the

old board bridge here, pull in, stop and get a few cold

sodas, look around real quick, and head on out.  And I

didn't even often stop at other trading posts.  Once in

a great while, go on a trip, but not too much.  I mean,

you know, once in a great while I'd make that journey

and go up to like Navajo Mountain, or over to Crystal

or Shonto once in a while.  Not too often did I go out

and away.  Even like down to Dinnebito, I think I only

went there twice in the fifteen, eighteen years I lived

at Piñon.  Just went there twice.  So if you're a

working trader, you kind of stay where you're at.  And

even like today, this is kind of a rare occasion for me

to take this much time away from the trading post.

   

   Underhill:  If I can interject a second, I wonder

what the relationship with the National Park here is,

for you to have a different sort of boss.

   

   Malone:  Well, the National Park Service owns the

site, and I work for Southwest Parks and Monuments.  So

it is a nonprofit cooperating association to the point

of after your wages and expenses, my organization

donates the profits back to the Park Service.  So it's

really great because it gets spread around.  Trading is

a rough thing.  If it was so lucrative, there would be

more people in the business.  But it's a pretty tough

thing.  I mean, people think that traders are rich.  I

think that's a long, long ago thing.  Traders today are

havin' it just as tough as people that are in any other

kind of business.  I guess it's the nostalgia or the

thing about it.  I mean, everybody thinks you can come

to Hubbell's and it really grows on you.  But it's a

rough business.  You're in competition from everybody

up and down the world, so it's tough to get along.  You

just kinda have to slide along and keep things goin'.

And the thing that's nice about it, I think, is if you

don't keep things goin', how's the grandma gonna be

able to teach her granddaughter how to weave and keep

these kind of things going for a long time.  How's a

grandpa gonna teach his grandson how to be a

silversmith?  A lot of this all....  I know a few

artists who can make it on their own, just in doing the

weaving or doing the silversmithing, but a lot of them

have to have a job on the side to support all this.

   Did I mess you up anywhere there?

   

   Cole:  Actually, I have one question from a long

time ago.  You had mentioned the tribe at one point was

buying horses to get 'em off the range.  (Malone:

Right.)  Were wild horses like that a problem?

   

   Malone:  Well, I think out here, if you drive

around, and as you're going across the reservation,

you'll see fifteen or twenty horses in a pile.  It's

like everything else--we kind of accrue these things.

A lot of Navajos don't ride their horses like they used

to.  They only have one or two that they're using, and

the rest of 'em are dóó bíláahdi, kind of "and beyond"

or "and others."  It's just some more they have that

they don't use, but they're their property, so they

want to claim 'em as theirs.  And really, horses are

probably a prominent thing to the overgrazing we have

on the Navajo Reservation.  I mean, I think a lot of

the younger Navajos have accepted that there's a lot of

overgrazing, but if you try to tell an elder that

"you've got to cut back on your herd, you've got to cut

back on your horses," they don't like it.  And mostly

from the John Collier days, when they just rounded up

everything, shot 'em, killed 'em, didn't pay 'em for

it, just said, "You're overgrazing, we're gonna get rid

of 'em."  They killed their sheep, they didn't get

compensated for it.  So they have all these extra

horses.  It was that sort of a situation when they were

roundin' up horses to get rid of 'em, 'cause they had

too many around.  And even when the JUA thing came up,

the Navajos didn't know why, but people like

yourselves, and another Navajo as an interpreter would

go around to different hogans and, "Do you have a sheep

permit?  How many sheep do you have?"  Well, most of

the Navajos felt somethin' funny was up, so they

probably would lie.  If they had 300 sheep, they only

[admitted to] 150.  So these guys went around and got

all these statistics for a while, or all the numbers.

So when the JUA started buying sheep from the Navajo at

1½ [times] what the sheep was worth, when they bought

the first 150, the Navajos said, "You know, this is a

pretty good deal, I'm gettin' good money for my sheep."

I even know of some that probably went to town to buy

some sheep to bring 'em back out here and make a profit

on 'em.  But when the number come up to 150 and they

still had 150 more, they said, "Well, this is all the

sheep you're supposed to have."  So that didn't work

out right.  And the people who didn't know what it was

about cut their sheep herd in half, but probably would

have cut some more, but they didn't know what the

situation was.  But it did help reduce a lot of

livestock off the range when they did that.  But I

mean, it's kind of generally known that there's

overgrazing out here.  The drought we just had the last

two years overcame a lot of that.  I mean, people had

to sell 'em for nothin'.  A lot of 'em probably won't

get back into the sheep business.  And it's a tough

business to be in, if you ever document it.  I used to

help some ladies out in Piñon, and some other rancher

types.  And by the time, if you document what they put

into the business of raising the sheep, really all the

enjoyment you're gettin' out of it is eating your own

meat.  I mean, the wool, the lambs, by the time you pay

the herder, by the time you pay the other bills along

with it, you're losing money big-time on running sheep

out here.  And especially now since they don't have the

incentive on the wool like the government used to kick

in, it's really down now.  And wool's probably at an

all-time low.  I mean, it's been low before, but it's

hard for me....  I don't know any trader out here that

could buy wool and make a nickel a pound on it.  But by

the time you pay for the bag, and by the time you pay

for the guy to jump on it and put it in the bag, and by

the time you pay for the guys to put it on the truck,

you've lost money on it.  So that's why there's not a

big turnout for wool anymore.  At Piñon, we used to buy

300 bags, 600, 700 bags of wool a year.  Maybe 300 bags

of mohair.  It's just not there anymore.  No money in

it.

   

   Cole:  Any other questions, Lew?

   

   Steiger:  I'm sure ________.  Let's see.

   

   Malone:  Well, I hope I do this for ten more years.

I feel like I got another ten years in me.  I want to

be here 'til I "die with my boots on," so to speak.

And most of the traders I know probably would do that.

I mean, I don't know what Hank would do, or Al

Townsend, or Bruce Burnham.  I hear Bruce once in a

while saying, "I'm gonna sell my store.  I'm gonna do

this...."  But I think eventually one of his daughters

will get into the business.  And I have a couple of

daughters that will probably get in the business if I

had a business on the side somewhere that they could

run that wouldn't be a conflict for me to be into.

   

   Steiger:  Working here at Hubbell's, has that led

you to really explore the history of trading here?

Hubbell's real famous--was he really the first trading

post ever out here?

   

   Malone:  Well, he was one of the first.  Most of

your traders all float into the country when the

Navajos come back from signing their peace treaty.

They had been acclimated to coffee beans, sugar, flour,

yard goods, canned goods, and here came the trader--

just like anywhere else.  And I'm not sure how many

traders were here previous.  There doesn't seem to be

too much said about the traders here previous to the

peace treaty thing.  And I don't think there were too

many around, because this was Indian country.  You

could get an arrow stuck in your back or anything like

that.  And really, it was, you might say, the settlers

coming through the country that complained that "the

Navajos are stealing our horses, or oxen, or sheep," or

whatever, that got the ball rollin' for the Army to go

pick up the Navajos.

   

   Steiger:  Take 'em on the Long March and all.

   

   Malone:  Right.  And in those days, the government

wasn't very nice to Indian people.  I mean, you know,

it was pretty rough on 'em.

   

   Steiger:  I wonder what would have brought Hubbell

out here to start.

   

   Malone:  Well, Hubbell was workin' kind of as a

calvary scout, and he dropped out of that and he hung

out around Fort Defiance quite a bit.  And he dropped

out of that and went into the trading business.  He was

twenty-three years old at that time when he started--a

little older than I was.  How'd you like to be twenty-

three again?  (laughter)

   

   Steiger:  So he just came out and just started....

   

   Malone:  Right.  He'd already roamed through the

country.  He'd been up into Utah and whatnot, and this

must have been the site he liked, was the Ganado area.

And he had a great relationship with Ganado Mucho,

which was a Navajo head man here in this area.  In

fact, he was saved by him one time.  I guess some

Navajos kind of got hostile with him, but Ganado Mucho

stepped in for him.  But he was well-liked by the

Navajos in this area, and his sons were too.  He had

two sons, two daughters.  One of his sons, the oldest

one, John Lorenzo, Jr., went over to the Hopi side of

the reservation, like Keams Canyon and Oraibi.  And

Ramon stayed here in Ganado, worked with his dad and

took over after his dad couldn't handle the business

anymore.  They had a great empire.  They had I can't

remember how many trading posts, but Gino's [phonetic

spelling] the man to talk to about that.  And I think

anybody that came by, if they were a relative, a

friend, or a guy lookin' for a job, he would outfit 'em

with a wagon and some grub and whatnot and said, "Why

don't you go up to Salina, why don't you go to Nazlini,

why don't you go to Black Mountain, why don't you go to

Piñon, and start a trading post?"  But the one thing

everybody needed was water.  So wherever they went,

they had to have water.

   

   Steiger:  When they started then, do you get the

sense that it was predominantly a barter situation?

   

   Malone:  Well, I've heard a lot of old stories, and

they're probably true.  It was mostly a barter system.

I think when you started out the year, you counted the

money in the cigar box, and it was essentially about

that way when the year ended.  It was how much money

was in the cigar box.  Of course rugs and things like

that, they would have had to been inexpensive, but

money was at an all-time high in those days too.  I

mean, $300 in those days is probably like gone to

heaven, probably like $30,000 today.  So most of the

trading posts, even when I worked at Piñon, we ran tabs

with our wholesalers.  We got our Coke for six months

at a time.  We paid bills off twice a year.  We paid it

in the spring when we bought wool and sold it, and then

we paid it in the fall when we bought sheep and sold

'em.  If you had a good year with piñons or something,

that was just extra.  But I guess I would say when I

first started in trading, it was mostly running up a

tab on both sides--the store would run a tab with its

dealers, and the same way as Hubbell would have done

with C.N. Cotton or Gallup Mercantile or any of those

people that supplied things.  And in those days, I've

talked to different people that come out.  One guy said

traders were pretty crafty too.  They'd call a guy in

town and say, "I've got 1,000 pounds of freight.  What

would you charge me to haul it?"  And without asking

what the freight was, they'd roll out a price.  Well,

when they'd come out to Hubbell's, the 1,000 pounds of

freight was a big pile of skins.  We were talking about

sheep skins and things.  And you know, in those days,

or even today, they're rough, they've still got a

little meat on 'em, so the flies are runnin' around,

the maggots are runnin' around.  And they kind of have

a bad whiff to 'em.  So he said, "I hauled 'em to town,

but I had to put 'em on top of the bus and tie 'em down

through the windows."

   There's stories like that--all these traders can

tell stories.  I was talkin' to John Kennedy, whose dad

built Salina Springs.  They were comin' over the

mountain from Window Rock to here.  Have you ever been

over the summit?  Do you know what I'm talkin' about?

   

   Cole:  Yeah.

   

   Malone:  It's quite a long hill.  Well, they were

comin' up one winter morning, and they'd had breakfast

and loaded the wagons up, hooked the horses to 'em and

everything, and had gone 'til lunchtime.  Somebody

said, "It's lunchtime, shall we stop and have lunch?"

His dad said, "Why don't we just walk back to the

breakfast fire?" 'cause they hadn't gone a hundred

yards all morning.  That's how bad the hills could be,

goin' around.

   Of course, when I came out here, the primary roads

were all paved.  I think the only dirt roads I can

remember that were rough was from Inscription House up

to Navajo Mountain, from Fort Defiance to Wheatfield,

to Tsaile, around to Round Rock.  The pavement used to

end at Round Rock.  Of course the road from Many Farms

to that cutoff to Kayenta was all rocky and rough.

I've been on that road.  And the road from Piñon, back

over the back, was dirt 'til they put a little paving

on it.  But most of the roads out here had already had

pavement.  So I'm not that old of a trader that I can

reminisce about the dirt road days way back when.

Probably some of the Foutzes or some of them....

   

   Steiger:  When Hubbell started, what would he have

started with, aside from money?  Would he have just

gotten a bunch of beans and flour?

   

   Malone:  That's right.  He would have had flour,

beans, coffee beans, tins--if they had peaches and

pears and tomatoes and things like that--sardines.

I've eaten many a what we call "trader's lunches"--

either bologna and cheese or sardines and crackers--on

the back steps at Piñon with some of the old guys that

used to come by.  They would have had to freight 'em

all in from either Gallup or somewhere.

   I know a Navajo here in town, his name is David

Kirk, and he was instrumental in what they call the

Black versus Lee decision.  It was in the days of when

somebody didn't pay you a bill, even in the Anglo

world, you would go garnishee their check.  Hugh Lee or

Lee Trading Post garnisheed a Navajo's herd of sheep.

Anyway, it went all the way to the Supreme Court, and

the decision was that the State of Arizona had no

jurisdiction on the Navajo Reservation.

   (phone rings)  And I'll bet that's a girl calling to

say....  I'm past my time, I might have to go to lunch.

   

   Cole:  Well, thank you very much for taking the time

out.

   

   Underhill:  We really appreciate it.  (tape turned

off and on)

   

   Malone:  This is my last granddaughter.  This is

Briana Jewel Pete.  (to child)  Look over there.  Oh,

she's not interested.

   

   Steiger:  She sure is a cutie.

   

   Underhill:  She sure is.

   

   Malone:  Thank you.

   

   Cole:  When she's thirty, she'll probably hate this

tape!  (laughter)

   

   [END OF INTERVIEW]