SALLIE WAGNER INTERVIEW

   

   

   

   [BEGIN SIDE A]

   

   This is Karen Underhill with Northern Arizona

University.  It's December 15, 1998.  We're at the home

of Sallie Wagner.  She's being interviewed for the

United Indian Traders Association [Oral History]

Project.  Also in the room are Brad Cole from Northern

Arizona University, and Lew Steiger.

   

   Underhill:  Sallie, if we may begin at the

beginning, could you tell us when and where you were

born?

   

   Wagner:  (laughs, others respond with laughter)  A

long time ago!  I was born in 1913, in Wheeling, West

Virginia.

   

   Underhill:  Who were your parents?

   

   Wagner:  Do you mean their names?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  Elsie Whitaker was my mother, and Dwight

Wagner was my father.  I had an older brother and an

older sister.

   

   Underhill:  How many years were you in West

Virginia?  Had you spent your childhood there?

   

   Wagner:  Until I was about twelve or thirteen, and

then I went away to school.  In the summers, I came out

here.  I had persuaded my father to bring me out.

   

   Underhill:  And what attracted you to this area?

   

   Wagner:  Well, we had quite a bit of property in

West Virginia, and there was a prehistoric site on it,

and I kept finding things.  Actually, my brother

collected arrowheads at a great rate.  Then when he got

tired of whatever he was collecting, he passed it on to

baby sister.  So he passed on the arrowheads to me.

Then I kept finding more things around outside, and I

became interested in the people who had done these

things, and I read all sorts of things--most of them

just novels.  Then I was reading the travel section of

The New York Times, one Sunday afternoon, and it was

all about this part of the country, and I persuaded my

father to bring me out.

   

   Underhill:  Wonderful!  What did you think on your

first trip?

   

   Wagner:  Oh!  I was bowled over, as most people are,

and I kept coming back every year.  And then after I

was old enough, I came by myself.

   

   Underhill:  How old were you the first time you

came?

   

   Wagner:  I think I was about fourteen.

   

   Underhill:  And where all did you go when you would

come out for the summer?

   

   Wagner:  Well, we started in Albuquerque and we

hired a car and a driver and we saw everything around

the Albuquerque area, and then came to Santa Fe and did

that here, and then to Taos.  We drove up to Mesa

Verde, and believe me, a trip to Mesa Verde in those

days was awful!  So I saw a good deal of the Southwest,

early.

   

   Underhill:  And what did your father think?

   

   Wagner:  He loved it.  My mother came out once, and

she liked it, too, but she wasn't very well, so she

only came the one time.

   

   Underhill:  And where did you go to school then?

   

   Wagner:  I went to the National Cathedral in

Washington, to boarding school, and then to the

University of Chicago.

   

   Underhill:  What did you study?

   

   Wagner:  Anthropology.  What else?!

   

   Underhill:  You mentioned you came back by yourself

then.  Was that to live, after you graduated from

college?

   

   Wagner:  No.  No, it was in the summers.

   

   Underhill:  What brought you ultimately to the

Southwest, when did you come and stay?

   

   Wagner:  Well, of course we lived on the Navajo

Reservation for thirteen years, and we kept coming over

here from there.  But to stay, to live year-round, in

the fifties.

   

   Underhill:  When did you go to the Navajo Nation,

and what brought you there?

   

   Wagner:  Navajos! brought us there.  That was in

1938.  My husband was in the Park Service, and we were

sent to Canyon de Chelly.  We liked the Navajos, but we

didn't like working for the government.  We'd gotten to

be friends with Cozy and Inja McSparron, who had the

trading post at the mouth of the canyon.  We moved in

with them and we resigned from the Park Service.  We

were sitting around one evening, trying to decide what

to do next, and Cozy said, "Why don't you buy a trading

post?"  Well, that fit right in with our interest in

anthropology, so Cozy and Inja and the two of us looked

around for posts for sale, and we found Wide Ruins.

   

   Underhill:  What attracted you to Wide Ruins as

opposed to other places?

   

   Wagner:  There weren't very many other posts for

sale on the reservation.  There were two others, at the

Sawmill and Nazlini.  We liked Wide Ruins better, it

was more attractive.  It was by itself, not in a

community.  So we took a course in trading from Cozy

and moved in!

   

   Underhill:  Do you remember what you paid to take

over the Wide Ruins Trading Post?

   

   Wagner:  I don't remember.  It wasn't much.  I think

it was about $10,000.  The post had been very badly run

down.  There was almost nothing in it.  There was a

caseful of moth-eaten fur hats and a few canned goods--

that was about it.

   

   Underhill:  What were the living conditions like at

Wide Ruins when you first arrived?

   

   Wagner:  Well, at first, they were comfortable.  We

had indoor plumbing and that sort of thing.  But all

the time we were there, we heated entirely with

fireplaces.  As you know, it gets pretty cold out

there, but there was plenty of wood, and the Navajos

kept us supplied with it.  We did redo the place

considerably.  The one bathroom was in a remote area,

so we put in another bathroom near the bedrooms, and

put on a new roof.  One end of the living room had been

nothing but chicken wire plastered over so we had to re-

do that.  Yeah, there was a lot of re-doing.  It gave

jobs to the Navajo, too, and gave us a good

introduction to them.  They had not had a viable post

there for so long that they were very happy to see the

shelves stocked.

   

   Underhill:  What kind of goods did you carry?

   Wagner:  Oh, everything!  Just like all trading

posts did--buckets and saddles and axes and canned

goods and clothes.  We got rid of the fur hats.  Boots,

wagons, hay, penny candy--anything you care to mention.

   

   Underhill:  And at that time would you take

livestock and wool?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, yes! that's how the customers paid off

their debts.  The business was run almost entirely on

credit-- like all the posts.  They would pay off with

wool in the spring and with lambs in the fall.  And

then we would sell those products, drive the sheep to

the railroad.

   

   Underhill:  And how long a drive was that, to get

the livestock to…

   

   Wagner:  Well, that would depend.  Sometimes we

trucked them, and then it would just be a day.  But if

we drove them, we always wanted to drive them slowly,

and it'd take maybe three days.

   

   Underhill:  And would you go along?

   

   Wagner:  No.  No, we hired the Navajos to do that.

   

   Underhill:  What were the Navajo customers like in

that era?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, they were great!  I really liked them.

They were quite honest.  I think that sort of thing

varied from various places on the reservation.  But at

Wide Ruins they were very nice people.

   

   Underhill:  And what did your family think of you

living in such isolation?

   

   Wagner:  Well, my father thought it was a great

idea.  My mother was gone by that time, but I belonged

to quite an extended family back in West Virginia.

They still think I'm crazy.  I've tried to lure a few

of them out here, and actually I have.  I have three

cousins living here in Santa Fe now, who came out

because of me.  But most of the family disapproves.

   

   Underhill:  Did you learn to speak Navajo?

   

   Wagner:  Not really.  I can trade in it, but I'm

particularly stupid when it comes to languages.

Actually, you see, on Cozy's recommendation, we hired

Bill Cousins, whose father was a trader.  You may know

of the Cousins brothers.

   

   Underhill:  We haven't met them yet, but we know the

name.

   

   Wagner:  And we hired Bill, theoretically,

temporarily.  Of course he spoke Navajo, but he proved

to be so important that he stayed on the entire time we

were there.

   

   Underhill:  And that was thirteen years that you

were there, then?

   

   Wagner:  Uh-huh.

   

   Underhill:  And what was Bill Cousins like?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, he was great!  And then in the later

years, his wife came down and helped, too.  I think

Bill was the most honest person I have ever met in all

my life.  He would lean over backwards to be honest

about every little detail.  He also had a great sense

of humor.  He used to tease the Navajos a lot, and they

liked it, they thought it was fun.  They liked him.

   

   Underhill:  And do you remember what kinds of

teasing would go back and forth between customers and

you as a trader?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, sure.  Let's see.  Well, he would

deliberately mispronounce their names so that somebody

would come out being called "Mouse's son," that sort of

thing.  And also, he would instruct one of the Navajos

to dust the store, and the Navajo would start dusting,

and he'd dust all around the customers, he'd dust them

off, and dust off Bill. Yeah, it was really a good

friendly way to behave with all of them.

   

   Underhill:  For someone who's not familiar with

Navajo culture, how would you describe them as a

people?

   

   Wagner: Of course, most people don't think of

anything outside their own culture.  I would say that

they were individualists�  I really wouldn't try to

explain their culture.

   

   Underhill:  How did the trading post business change

from the time you arrived until the time you left?

   

   Wagner:  It didn't really change, but we knew it was

going to, and that's why we left.  It was after the

war, and of course the men coming back from service had

seen things on the outside, and there was a

restlessness among the people, that we knew was not too

good.  We didn't want to see that.  We wanted to say

goodbye while we were still friends.  Navajos still

come over here to see me once in a while.

   I don't know whether you've read my book.  You're

asking me questions that are answered in the book.

   

   Underhill:  We need it in a live format!

   

   Wagner:  That is the one published at the university

here.

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  I also did one that Northland Press

published.

   

   Underhill:  That's the one I think we have.

   

   Cole:  Yeah.

   

   Underhill:  How did you get the supplies that you

traded with at the post?

   

   Wagner:  We dealt exclusively with the wholesale

houses in Gallup, and almost entirely with Gross-Kelly.

They would send out big trucks loaded down with all our

supplies periodically.  They did this all over the

reservation, of course--all the wholesale houses did.

We would simply order through them.  Now, most of the

traders paid off, I think, through the wholesale houses

with the wool and the sheep.  They would pay off what

they owed, that way.  But you see we had our own

private funds, so we skipped the wholesale houses, and

we would sell directly to the Boston wool market, the

feed lots, that sort of thing.  And, we would pay cash

to the wholesale houses.

   

   Underhill:  Unusual.  Would salesmen come out to see

you?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, yes.  As a matter of fact, one of the

salesmen was Si Goldman.  His daughter is the head of

the Rape Crisis Center here.  I'm quite involved with

that center, and she and I have become good friends.

It was a great surprise to us to find out that her

father was Si Goldman--just like it must have been a

surprise to you this morning.

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh, exactly.  And what was he like?

   

   Wagner:  Si?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  A very nice man.  He's still living in

Albuquerque.  You should interview him!

   Underhill:  How frequently did he come to visit?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, maybe once every six weeks.  Of course

there were other salesmen who did the same thing.

   

   Underhill:  How common was it for tourists to come

through?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, we never had tourists.  Oh, I can't say

never, because one would turn up occasionally who'd got

lost or something like that.

   

   Underhill:  And who were your friends at that time?

Who did you socialize with?

   

   Wagner:  Well, we had a lot of people, friends from

outside to come and stay with us for a week or so.

That happened too much, as a matter of fact.  There was

one stretch of time, two years, when Bill and I didn't

sit down to one meal alone together.  That got to be

much too much.  So we were very careful about issuing

invitations, but people came without invitations

sometimes.  We'd meet somebody in Colorado Springs

where my sister lived, at a cocktail party or something

like that, and when we would meet these persons, they

would say something like, "Oh, you live on the Navajo

Reservation?  We're going to stop by and see you the

next time we go by."  Of course the polite thing to say

is, "Well, I hope you do."  But we got so we would say,

"(polite laugh), hm."  Not say anything!  But they came

anyway sometimes.  But then of course we enjoyed most

of them.

   

   Underhill:  And how often did you go to town?

   

   Wagner:  Not very often, maybe every six weeks or

two months.  Oh, well, besides these people that came

to stay with us, we were also friends with the

government people up at Klagetoh, which was north of

us.  You probably know where Klagetoh is, on the way to

Ganado.  (someone enters, tape paused)

   

   Underhill:  What were the traders like of that era,

the people that you met who were also traders?

   

   Wagner:  We didn't meet any traders.  The only ones

we knew were Cozy and Inja, his wife.

   

   Underhill:  And how would you describe them?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, they were wonderful.  Cozy had a wicked

sense of humor.  He used to play practical jokes on

everybody.  He insisted that his wife, who's name was

Inja, I-N-J-A, that she was named for her grandmother's

home state, Inja-anna. Cozy was an old-time trader.

He'd been on the reservation for many years.  He really

knew the Navajos, and he knew the canyons, Canyon de

Chelly and Del Muerto Monument.

   

   Underhill:  What sort of advice did he give you as

you were embarking on your own enterprise?

   

   Wagner: Oh, well, of course the best advice was to

get Bill Cousins!  That was really wonderful.  But it

wasn't advice exactly, it was just how to trade.

   

   Underhill:  Can you describe for us a typical trade

interaction in your store?

   

   Wagner:  I wrote that up in my book! Well, a woman

would come in with a rug, and she would come in very

quietly, carrying the rug wrapped up in a flour sack.

She would look around, finally, and if any of her

friends--and most of them were her friends--she would

eventually go over and touch hands.  You know, they

don't really shake hands, they just touch hands.  Then

she'd probably sit down on the loafers' bench and sit

there for an hour or so.  Then she'd come up and put

the rug, still wrapped in the flour sack, on the

counter.  Then one of us would take the rug back into

the room where we kept the rugs and unwrap it and

spread it out and look at it and decide what we were

going to give for it.  We paid very high prices for the

rugs that pleased us.  We liked the simple patterns.

Then she usually would follow us back, and we'd tell

her how much we would give her, whereupon she would

demand more, but we never bargained, simply because we

didn't like to--and anyway, we always gave high prices.

So she would agree, usually.

   Then the trading would begin, and she would pick out

eight yards of percale, maybe.  We'd measure that out,

and then we'd write down the amount that that cost her

on a little piece of paper, and deduct it from the

price of the rug.  Then she would go on to buy four

cans of green chile, maybe, and then we'd deduct that

from [the price of the rug].  Usually we would tell her

every time that we deducted something, how much she had

left.  And that would go on.  She'd buy a pair of

shoes, an axe handle, fifty cents' worth of hay for her

horse, 'cause she came in on a horse--and that sort of

thing.

   Or, if the man or the woman--the customer--did not

have something to trade at the time, and they were

regular customers and we knew how honest they were--and

nearly all of them were quite honest--then we would

give them credit, and write that down on a piece of

paper, and we would give them whatever was left, and we

would keep track of how much was due us, on separate

little pads for each customer.  And then, as I said,

they would pay off in the spring and in the fall.

   

   Underhill:  And who did most of the buying, men or

women?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, both.

   

   Underhill:  Did the women often have a separate

account based on a rug sale?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.

   

   Underhill:  What were the most popular items for men

and for women?

   

   Wagner:  Well, it always was a sack of flour, a can

of baking powder, and they always wound up with five

caramel lollipops. They bought the percale for skirts,

men's shirts, leather--just plain leather.  I was

trying to think what else.  Oh! that's something funny--

before the war they always bought a can of tomatoes,

and they would want us to open it.  Then we would put a

dollop of sugar in, and give them a plastic spoon, and

they'd eat it.  But after the war, they didn't eat it

anymore.  I never understood that.  But after the war,

they started buying underwear, which they had not

before the war.

   

   Cole:  How much hay would fifty cents buy?

   

   Wagner:  About that much.  You know, off of a bale.

   

   Cole:  So just enough to feed the horse at that

point.  They weren't going to take it back with 'em.

   

   Wagner:  No.

   

   Underhill:  Did you have a guest hogan, where people

would come and stay while they were trading?

   

   Wagner:  No, we didn't.

   

   Steiger:  If they had to feed their horses, they

must have been comin' from pretty far, then?  Or not

necessarily?

   

   Wagner:  Not necessarily, because, see, they would

come in and spend nearly the whole day.

   

   Steiger:  So just to give their horses somethin' to

do?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.

   Underhill:  A trading post is often, of course, the

center of the community--a place to socialize (Wagner:

That's right.) and other kinds of things.

   

   Wagner:  There was a school about a mile away, up on

the hill, and of course that too is a center.  I don't

know how it is now, but at that time, there was a shop

for the men to use, and a laundry for the women to use.

   

   Underhill:  And what other kinds of services did you

provide besides just staples and goods and livestock?

   

   Wagner:  An ambulance service.  I think all the

traders did that.  Whenever anybody wanted to go to the

hospital, we'd take them.  And of course we wrote their

letters for them, they always said exactly the same

thing, "Dear Son, today while I have nothing to do, I

write a short note to you.  Everything here are fine.

Please answer back." It was always that!

   Oh, yes! and then too, of course the railroads and

the beet fields and what not, they were recruiting

workmen, and they would do that through the trading

post.  We would sign up men to either go to the beet

fields or to work on the railroad.

   

   Underhill:  And would you handle the payroll checks

as they came in from those jobs?

   

   Wagner:  Yes, if that did so happen.  Usually they

were paid where they were working.

   

   Underhill:  How did the introduction of cash impact

your business when people were getting paid externally?

   

   Wagner:  Then they'd pay cash to us.

   

   Underhill:  Did you handle pawn items at all?

   

   Wagner:  Oh yes, goodness yes.  This jewelry I am

wearing was one of a pair of bridle conchas that died

in pawn.

   

   Underhill:  How much of your pawn went bad, or died?

   

   Wagner:  Very little.  We never gave high prices for

pawn, because we didn't want it to die.  Once it's gone

from 'em, then it's gone for good, and they don't have

anything to fall back on.  If they keep the jewelry,

then when they really have need, they'll have something

that they can use to get some money.  So we

deliberately tried not to have dead pawn.  Also, I

think all trading posts would lend pawn back to the

owners when they were having a sing or something

special.  They would come in and ask if they could

borrow their pawn.  They would always bring it back.

And then of course a lot of the people who didn't

really need the money that they were getting for the

pawn, would pawn things just in order to have them safe

in the store safe.  And that's common with all the

posts--it was.  I understand things have changed.

   

   Underhill:  Did you have a bullpen arrangement?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, sure.  Didn't they all?

   

   Underhill:  In that era!

   

   Wagner:  Yeah.  And the bullpen, the area where the

customers were out in front of the counters was one

small step below the level of the floor in back of the

counter.  That's the way it was when we bought the

place.  I suppose there's a psychological advantage to

that.

   

   Underhill:  You mentioned the teasing that went back

and forth.  Did you have a nickname that the Navajo

customers used to call you?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, they called me "Red Hair,"

Bitsii' ich�i'ii.

   

   Underhill:  How involved were you in community kinds

of activities--ceremonies and those kind of things?

   

   Wagner:  We took a good deal of part in those.  Of

course, from our anthropological background, we were

interested in that.  And yes, we went to a great many

ceremonies, and we had ceremonies performed over us.

   

   Underhill:  What kind of ceremonies did you have

performed for you?  Were these healing ceremonies?

   

   Wagner:  Well, I had a healing ceremony for hay

fever.  I had hay fever terribly.  It was so

debilitating.  Finally a medicine man undertook to cure

me.  And of course he painted my face and he chanted

over me.  But then he held his hand under my nose, and

his hand was filled with very finely pulverized

greenery.  And I had to inhale that.  Well, it nearly

killed me, it nearly blew the top of my head off!  But

it cured me, it really did.

   

   Underhill:  Did you ever find out what it was that

he had?

   Wagner:  No.  (pause)  Actually, I did send some of

it to the ethnobotanical laboratory at the University

of Michigan, but it was a conglomeration of things, and

it was so finely pulverized that they didn't do

anything with it.

   

   Underhill:  What kinds of things did you see in

terms of ceremonies and impact like that?  Did you

observe any other healing ceremonies while you were out

there?

   

   Wagner:  Oh yes, many.  Sand paintings, of course.

That was the principal thing.  And then the Y�ii

bicheii, the Night Chant, and the Mountain Chant.

Sure.

   

   Underhill:  How accepted do you think you were by

the community?  Any problems?  Or were you welcome to

be a part of that society?

   

   Wagner:  I think we had quite an impact.  First of

all, it was quite an impoverished community when we

first went there.  We started rebuilding the post and

the house and that immediately gave jobs to quite a few

people.  Then we had been so impressed with the rugs

that Cozy was getting in at Chinle.  And I still think

the Chinle rugs were the best that were ever made,

except way back in the early days.  But we wanted to

improve the rugs at Wide Ruins, and they were doing

terrible weaving there--it really was pretty awful.

But they knew better--they just didn't bother.  And so

we began an educational program.  We paid rather high

prices when they would do what we wanted them to.  We

never gave them any designs, anything like that--they

did their own designing and their own dying.  But it

was how well the rug was woven, and whether the pattern

was pleasing, which made the difference in the price.

And they were able to meet those standards.  So they

got quite well paid, and that, along with the jobs of

construction for the men, raised the economic level.

The Wide Ruins type rugs are still being made there.

So we did have an impact on the community.

   

   Underhill:  How did you distribute your rugs that

you took in for trade?

   

   Wagner:  There again, we skipped the wholesale

houses, and we sold directly to mostly interior

decorating shops, places like that.  Then the rugs

gained a reputation, and people would come to Wide

Ruins  You asked about tourists earlier.  Well, of

course these were not tourists.  They came directly to

buy the rugs, simply because we had a reputation for

good rugs.

   

   Underhill:  Who do you remember among the weavers?

Does anyone stand out in your mind?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, yes!  The entire family of Hosteen

Glish--all of those women wove prodigiously, and they

wove beautifully.  They were very dependable.

   This rug here on the floor was made by Ralph Jones'

wife.  She was one of the best of the designers, but

she didn't make very many rugs, unlike the Glish

family, who were at their looms all the time.

   

   Underhill:  And how is that art of weaving

transferred from mother to daughter?  In your opinion,

how was that taught?

   

   Wagner:  Of course, I guess in all communities, the

daughter learns from the mother.  But in our attempts

to improve the weaving at Wide Ruins, we hired a

teacher from Fort Wingate, a Navajo woman who had been

teaching weaving at the government program at Fort

Wingate.  You know, it was a boarding school at that

time for Navajos.  Then there was a building in back of

the school at Wide Ruins that was not used for

anything.  In fact, the roof leaked and was in pretty

bad condition.  We bought the materials to renovate

that building, and the Navajos did the work. They made

that into a workshop, with one side of it for the women

for weaving--or the students, the little girls--and the

other side for the little boys to learn things like

tanning of skins and carpentry and such like.  Then we

built portable looms for the little girls, and provided

them with wool, and guaranteed to buy their rugs.  So

we had quite a supply of little bitty rugs.  Those

little girls, they really learned.  They were taught by

the woman from Fort Wingate, and we paid her salary.

   

   Underhill:  Interesting.  The wool--was that raw

wool that was then carded?  Or did you use any

commercial wools?

   

   Wagner:  No, it was raw wool that they brought in.

And then we would sort it--keep out the long-stapled

wool--and we would turn that back to the weavers--not

only to the little girls at the school, but to the

regular weavers.  We would deduct the price of the wool

from what we gave for the finished rug.

   

   Underhill:  Do you recall at all what the average

price of a rug that you would provide to the weaver,

what you paid for rugs, even a ballpark figure?

   

   Wagner:  What we paid for rugs?  Well, I do remember

that for a saddle blanket, single-weave saddle blanket,

was eight dollars. Now, that rug there, we paid $2,000

for.  That was an unheard of price in those days.  This

size rug, which is a more normal size, we would pay

maybe $75 to $100.  But we were always sold out!

   

   Underhill:  Which is great!  Were you a member of

the United Indian Traders Association?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.

   

   Underhill:  Did you have a hallmark, a stamp?  Were

you handling jewelry at all at that time?

   

   Wagner:  The last few years on the reservation we

took over the Pine Springs Post.  Malin Cousins, one of

Bill�s brothers, ran that.  I think, yes, they did have

a mark.

   

   Underhill:  What were the issues that you recall

that the Association was dealing with the years that

you were in the trading business?

   

   Wagner:  Well, of course, that was the years of the

Drefkoff episode--that crazy Russian that moved onto

the reservation and was about to take over everything.

   

   Underhill:  We have not heard this story.  Can you

tell us?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, goodness.  Well, it was so complicated.

It was when Krugg was secretary of Interior, and this

Russian, whose name was Drefkoff, he had an apartment

in the same building in Washington that Krugg had.  On

the strength of that, he said that he had a great

friendship with Krugg, with the result that he was

given extra privileges and what not.

   He and Norman Lytell, the attorney that the Navajos

had hired, they got together and they wrote up laws for

the traders, which would have put us all out of

business immediately.  The Traders Association had

meeting after meeting in Gallup about this, and finally

we went to Washington and appeared before Congress

about it. Bill, my husband, was one of the principal

speakers at the hearings.

   

   Underhill:  And do you remember what year that was?

   

   Wagner:  No, I don't.  It was in the forties, I

think.

   

   Underhill:  And what was the outcome of the hearings

in Washington?

   

   Wagner:  Well, Drefkoff and Lytell and Krugg were

reprimanded by the Congressional committee, and things

simmered down and went back to normal after that.  But

it's all in the Congressional Record.  I think they

have a copy of it down at the School of American

Research here.

   Underhill:  That should be good to see.

   When you took over the trading post, what was the

arrangement with the Navajo Tribe at that time?  Did

you have a lease?

   

   Wagner:  No, we bought the post.  Of course we were

bonded by the government, but not by the tribe.

   

   Underhill:  And so these regulations would have been

then federal regulations, not tribal regulations, that

the Association was fighting?

   

   Wagner:  They'd have been both, actually--and

principally tribal.  But at that time, the Navajos

didn't really understand business practices.  So

dealing with them, with a set of regulations like that,

was extremely difficult.

   

   Underhill:  Do you recall what sort of regulations

they wanted to impose on the traders?

   

   Wagner:  Well, they wanted to have the tribe get a

percentage--and I've forgotten what percentage--of the

gross business that we did.  Well, with trading going

back and forth, the gross would add up considerably.

That would have been impossible.  I don't remember much

of the details of what was demanded.

   

   Underhill:  You mentioned that the Navajo didn't

understand business practices.  What was the Navajo

economy like, or their economic philosophy at the time?

   

   Wagner:  Well, just the trade.  (pause)  I don't

know what you mean.

   

   Underhill:  We've talked to folks who have pointed

out that in Navajo society there is no sense of free

enterprise or individual gain.  And when you said that

they didn't understand business practices, is that what

you meant, that they're more collectivist in terms of

their outlook and, "you share"?

   

   Wagner:  Yeah, it's true that in a way they didn't

have the idea of individual gain, in that if somebody

has more than other people, then they share that.  It

brings everybody down to a level.  But at the same

time, the Navajos are great individualists, but not in

the matter of economic gain.

   

   Underhill:  And were you called upon to "share" in

your position as traders?

   

   Wagner:  No.  No.  That's why I wonder about these

Navajos who want to take over trading posts.  Must be

pretty hard on them.

   

   Underhill:  The Gross-Kelly operation--you mentioned

that you bypassed that in terms of handling your wool

and livestock.  Did you know Gross-Kelly well?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.

   

   Underhill:  What was he like?

   

   Wagner:  He wasn't a person.

   

   Underhill:  (laughs)  Oh!  We wondered!  (laughter)

So I'm asking a silly question!  We'll strike that.

   

   Wagner:  They were the Grosses and the Kellys, two

families.  There were several people in each family.

Actually, the Kellys still live here in Santa Fe.

   

   Underhill:  Okay.  We were trying to figure that out

the other day while we were driving.  People have said

C. N. Cotton began the business, and then someone else

told us…

   

   Wagner:  That was an individual.

   

   Underhill:  Yes.  Someone else told us that C. N.

Cotton worked for Gross-Kelly, so we've been confused.

(laughter)  Well, now I've asked a silly question.

(laughs)  And how did you find your markets in Boston

and other places?

   

   Wagner:  Salesmen came out.

   

   Underhill:  And were they trying to lure business

away, then, from the wholesale houses in Gallup, by

dealing direct?

   

   Wagner:  That's the part I don't know.

   

   Underhill:  (laughs)  But they were there.

   

   Wagner:  Why don't you interview Bill Cousins?

   

   Underhill:  I think he's on the list.

   

   Cole:  Yeah, we're going to.

   

   Wagner:  Good!  Give him my love.

   

   Cole:  Okay.

   

   Steiger:  You had mentioned before that you would

sell the rugs to interior decorating houses.  Where

were those located?

   

   Wagner:  Most of them in California and New York,

Chicago.

   

   Cole:  I was wondering, who did you buy Wide Ruins

from? just to get that on the record.

   

   Wagner:  Peter Paravette.  His niece, Dora Balcomb,

had owned it.  As I understand it she walked off and

left it, and left him with the debt, and he took over

the post.  That's what I understand--I don't know for

sure.  And so we bought it from him.

   

   Cole:  The other thing I was wondering, too:  did

you ever commission rugs?

   

   Wagner:  No.

   

   Cole:  So you always just bought 'em when they

brought 'em in?

   

   Wagner:  Uh-huh.  It's practically impossible to

commission anything [from] an Indian, I find.  You

order moccasins, and they'll come and they'll draw

around [your] foot, and then they'll take it home and

they'll look at it and say, "Oh, it can't be that big!"

and make it smaller.

   

   Underhill:  Were you working with silversmiths at

all?  Any jewelry activity in your area?

   

   Wagner:  Not at Wide Ruins.  At Pine Springs, we

left that to Bill's brother.

   

   Underhill:  Now, with United Indian Traders

Association, did you attend the annual meetings during

the years that you were a member?

   

   Wagner:  During the Drefkoff episodes, we attended

all the meetings, but not otherwise, no.

   

   Underhill:  And who were some of the folks you

remember as members of the Association during that

episode?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, practically everybody:  the

Richardsons, the Lees.  Oh, what was his name?  Can't

remember.  But nearly all the traders were up in arms

about this.

   

   Underhill:  What were those traders like?  You came

from the east coast and had a college education.  What

kinds of folks were traders at the time?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, they were just people.

   

   Underhill:  What do you think it takes to make a

good trader?

   

   Wagner:  Patience, principally.  And it helps to

have a sense of humor.  And a real feeling for the

people.

   

   Underhill:  What are some of your favorite memories

from those years?  Does anything stand out in your mind

that you thought were good moments?

   

   Wagner:  Well, I particularly remember old

Lukachukai.  He was very old.  He'd been a captive of

Kit Carson.  He was so dignified and so handsome, and

he liked us, we liked him.  I remember him

particularly.  And the Glish family.  Hosteen Glish

worked for us in the store.  And then the Toddy family.

Joe Toddy worked for us as a yard man, and it was his

little boy, Jimmy (Beatien Yazz), who turned into the

artist who is well-known today.  Of course I remember

them particularly.  And some of the old women.

Lukachukai's wife.  In spite of being a medicine man,

he wasn't very well-off, and his wife wore rags and

tatters.  I used to knit mittens for her.  I remember

her coming in one time in the snow.  Like all of them

did, they wrapped their feet in rags.  I gave her a

pair of galoshes, and she almost cried, she was so

thankful for them.

   

   Underhill:  You mentioned the poverty when you

arrived.  Were conditions fairly primitive?  Livelihood

was based on sheep at that time, then?

   

   Wagner:  The what?

   

   Underhill:  Conditions for the people, when you

first arrived, you mentioned that the poverty was

fairly extreme.

   

   Wagner:  Uh-huh.

   

   [END SIDE A; BEGIN SIDE B]

   

   Wagner:  … that straightaway there on the highway.

Well, Dan wanted to show off his new car, so he got it

up to seventy, and then eighty.  Around ninety, sure

enough, a siren.  So he pulled over, and this state

policeman came over and started to write out a ticket,

and then he looked over and saw Soley sitting shotgun,

and the poor policeman, he didn't know what to do.

He's already started to write out the ticket.  So he

said to Soley, "Oh, Mr. Van Solen, I didn't know it was

you!  What shall I do?!"  And Soley, looking straight

out the windshield, said, "Officer, do your duty."  And

those two old coots, they sat in the duck blind in

Colorado for two days without speaking to each other!

So that was the head of the Kelly clan.

   

   Steiger:  We're rollin'.

   

   Underhill:  This is Karen Underhill with Northern

Arizona University.  It's December 15, we're at the

home of Sallie Wagner.  In the room are Brad Cole, and

Lew Steiger, as well.

   We were talking a little about conditions, poverty,

and how things had improved over time.  What were the

transportation conditions like when you first came?

   

   Wagner:  You mean our personal transportation?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  Oh, the roads were simply awful!  They were

always bad, except in the middle of the summer.  Of

course, in the winter there was snow, and quite a bit

of snow.  Then in the spring, that snow would melt and

leave mud.  In the fall it would rain and there'd be

more mud.  And oh, yes, then in the middle of the

summer it would be sand, and the wind would blow that

across dunes, so they were always bad.  You know, I

keep wondering, how did we get along without four-wheel

drive?  But there wasn't any such thing then.  Of

course we had trucks.

   

   Underhill:  And were you ever stuck?

   

   Wagner:  (laughs)  Oh, frequently!  Usually, as a

matter of fact.  We carried shovels and axes in the

car.  I remember sitting for forty-eight hours on the

road between Ganado and Chinle once. We worked and

worked and worked to get out:  hauled rocks, chopped

brush, rebuilt the road. We did a lot of that.

   

   Underhill:  And how long was your average trip to

town, when you did go?  How long did it usually take to

get there?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, it was about an hour-and-a-half to

Gallup.  It was seventy miles, mostly on Highway 66.

   

   Underhill:  And is that also where you took people

when they were ill, when you were providing ambulance

services?

   

   Wagner:  No, we'd go to Ganado.  That oftentimes was

quite a trip, too, 'cause the road would be bad, and

the Indians sick.

   

   Underhill:  Were you ever asked to assist with

burials?

   

   Wagner:  No.  I don't know why not.  Well, yes,

once--not to do the actual burying, but to--more than

once--to provide the new clothes and a blanket to wrap

the body in.  But we didn't do the actual burying, no.

   

   Underhill:  Were there any missionaries in your

area?

   

   Wagner:  They came down from Ganado and

St. Michael's, but there were none actually in the

area.

   

   Underhill:  How popular was Christianity among the

people in your area?

   

   Wagner:  Well, on the days that they [the

missionaries] came down from Ganado, they  [the

Indians] were all Presbyterians, and the Presbyterians

would pass out maybe clothes or maybe pamphlets or

whatever.  And then when the Catholics came down, they

were all Catholics, and they all got holy pictures. And

I remember Annie Wauneka--you know who she was--saying

to me once, "Well, I'm supposed to be a Christian, but

I'm really corn pollen."

   

   Underhill:  What do you think the Navajo folks

thought of you as traders, or the missionaries, or

people working at the school?  Did you ever hear them

describe their reactions to Anglo folks?

   

   Wagner:  No.  I know they were very fond of

Mrs. Kaiser, the teacher at the school.  She was there

for quite a number of years, and a very nice woman, and

I know they liked her a lot.  As for the missionaries,

I really don't know.  I think that they probably just

accepted them as something transitory, I suppose.

   

   Underhill:  How did you receive your news of the

outside world while you were there?

   

   Wagner:  We had a radio.  As a matter of fact, the

one and only time I have ever listened to short wave

was a Sunday morning--I hate gadgets--I hate that thing

over there, that TV--I just don't fiddle with them--but

that one morning, for some reason, I was fiddling with

the short wave, and I got the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

(long pause)

   

   Underhill:  What impact did World War II have on

your area?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, tremendous impact, because the men

either all went into war industry or went into the

service.  And then, of course, when they came back,

they'd seen the outside world, and they had ideas.

That's when we realized that the Navajos were going to

change.  We didn't want to see it happen.

   

   Underhill:  What kinds of ideas did they come back

with, after they had seen the outside world?

   

   Wagner:  Well, let's see, they wanted more

possessions than they'd had before.  They weren't as

sure about their own culture as they had been before.

And of course that marginal state is very destructive

to the individual.

   

   Underhill:  Did the Depression in the late thirties

have any impact on your post?

   

   Wagner:  No.

   

   Underhill:  (inaudible)

   

   Wagner:  Late thirties?  It was in the early

thirties.

   

   Underhill:  What year did you go to…

   

   Wagner:  Nineteen thirty-eight.

   

   Underhill:  The Depression was early thirties, but

by the time you were there, there was no problem?

   

   Wagner:  Extreme poverty.

   

   Underhill:  What do you think people should know

about the trading story?  You've read, of course, many

books on the subject.  Is there something that you

think people who haven't experienced it don't grasp or

don't understand?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  I think that they should realize the

important position of a trader, how the trading post

was an absolute necessity.  And they should realize

that the traders are really friends of the Navajos.  In

popular literature, the Indian trader is always

portrayed as cheating the Indians.  Well, if he does

that, he doesn't last very long on the Navajo.  That is

a mistaken concept.  I think that in the early days of

trading, that may have been true, when there was not a

trading post, when the individual trader went out to

the tribes.  But even then, I wonder, because if he was

not honest with the Indians, they would soon find out,

and he wouldn't last.  But it's a stereotype of the

trader, that he cheats the Indians.

   

   Underhill:  What differences would you say there

were between--I've been told the country traders--and

the stores in town, the folks in town, the folks who

were working in Gallup, Flagstaff, or Farmington, the

border towns?

   

   Wagner:  Well, of course the ones in town also dealt

with tourists.  They were more curio shops.  They were

actual trading posts, too, of course.  And they were

not controlled as the ones on the reservation were.

The ones on the reservation had to be bonded to the

government. Theoretically, their prices were

controlled--theoretically.  They weren't really--at

least ours weren't.  But I think that the bonding gave

a minimum of control.  Of course it could be used to

get rid of a trader.

   

   Underhill:  How did you go about acquiring the bond?

Was it through the BIA?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, you couldn't help it, you couldn't stay

there if you weren't bonded.

   

   Underhill:  And was this the Bureau of Indian

Affairs that did the bonding?

   

   Wagner:  It was the government, yeah, the BIA.

   

   Underhill:  Did the BIA come and check on posts from

time to time?

   

   Wagner: Theoretically, yes.  But it was very

theoretical.  Now, whether that was at other posts or

not, I do not know.  Well, I can't imagine Bill Cousins

ever doing anything that would cause trouble.

   

   Underhill:  And you don't remember a visit from

____________?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, yes, I do.  But they would simply have

lunch with us and go away again.

   

   Underhill:  You mentioned a couple of times teasing

and humor and things.  Are there any humorous episodes

that stand out in your mind from your time there?

   

   Wagner:  Well, in my book I've written quite a few.

And I think the one that really stunned me was when a

woman came in with a newborn baby on a cradleboard.

She put it up on the counter and I chucked it under the

chin and said "goo-goo" at it and what not.  Then I

said to her, "Is it a boy or a girl?"  She looked at me

as though I'd lost my mind and said, "Well, of course!"

It absolutely stunned me! Cross-cultural confusion.

   

   Underhill:  Why did you stay up until World War II?

The war was causing changes as people were coming back,

but for thirteen years, that's a long time to be in one

place and isolated.

   

   Wagner:  Well, actually, you see, my husband was in

the Reserve Navy, and so he was called up before Pearl

Harbor.  That's why I happened to be alone, fiddling

with the [short wave] radio.  He was in charge of the

anti-submarine nets at San Diego Harbor.  And then when

we actually did go into the war, I spent my time going

back and forth to San Diego and coming back to Wide

Ruins.  It looked like the war was going to go on

forever, so we actually sold the post.  But the man who

bought it didn't get along with the Indians.  In fact,

I understand he took to shooting at them, and quite

understandably, they quit coming.  So he couldn't keep

up his payments, and we took it back.

   

   Underhill:  Did you have Bill Cousins there with you

during that time?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  But he got a job working in a defense

plant in Los Angeles, and he hated it.  When we got the

post back, he came right back.  He couldn't wait.

   

   Underhill:  With other traders in the Association,

your interactions, did you find that you were always

respected as a trader, as a woman?  Was that ever a

problem for you?

   

   Wagner:  No.

   

   Underhill:  It was fairly common then for women to

be running trading posts while husbands were away?

   

   Wagner:  I never thought of that, I don't know.

Well, Bill Cousins was there.  He was really doing it.

You'll like him.

   

   Underhill:  And then after the war, you mentioned

that you were selling things like underwear.  What

other kinds of products did you have to begin to

acquire to meet those needs?

   

   Wagner:  Well, let's see.  We had a slightly wider

supply of canned food--not much more, but some.  They

were beginning to get cars, and so we'd sell oil and

gas.  We had a gas pump.  I don't remember anything

else, except those tomatoes they didn't eat.  I don't

know.

   

   Underhill:  Were Navajo people given food stamps at

all during the war?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.

   

   Underhill:  They had that as well?

   

   Wagner:  Yes, they had the stamps just like the rest

of us did for certain foods and for shoes.  What else?

I don't remember what else. Coffee!

   

   Underhill:  When did you get your first telephone?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, there was one there.

   

   Underhill:  When you arrived?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  Or was there?  No, there wasn't!  We

had one put in.  Yes, I remember, that was when we

first went there, and it was, of course, a ring-down.

It connected to the school, and then from the school to

Klagetoh.  And then from Klagetoh to Ganado.  And then

from Ganado to Window Rock.  And then from Window Rock

to Gallup. Yeah, getting a call through was sometimes

quite a problem, because there wasn't anybody to really

man the switchboard at Ganado, or, I suppose, at

Klagetoh either.  If a nurse happened to be going by

the switchboard when you were ringing, she'd answer it.

Otherwise, you didn't get anybody!

   

   Underhill:  Did your telephone become a community

phone for everyone in your area?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  But the Navajos didn't have much use

for a phone, and of course the teachers had one of

their own up there.  Every now and then, I remember Joe

Toddy�s daughter ran away.  No, she had been sent to

the school at St. Michael's, and she ran away from the

school, so they called to tell Joe that.  I answered

the phone, and I called Joe in, and Joe was terrified

of the telephone.  I tried to show him what to do.

He'd hold the receiver way out here, and hold way back

from the phone, and then yell at it. So really, they

didn't have much use for the phone, or much knowledge

about it.  Things have changed.

   

   Underhill:  When you moved to Santa Fe, to this

home, did you go back?

   

   Wagner:  No.  You know, it burned, it's no longer

there.

   

   Underhill:  Did you keep up much with the trading

business after that?  Or moved on to different things?

   

   Wagner:  Well, I got involved with the Pueblos.  For

quite a number of years I was going around to the

pueblo villages and to the Spanish villages and buying

up any really good craft work.  Then I would ship that

off to various stores that would like to handle that

kind of thing.  But it got to be too much for me,

because all those villages were pretty wide apart, and

I'd spend my days going to those and maybe pick up one

thing.  Then I did all the packing myself.  About the

time when it really got to be too much, was when folk

art became popular, and there was really no more need

to promote the folk art around here.  It took off on

its own.  So I could relax!

   

   Underhill:  Well deserved!  When you were traveling

to the Pueblos, did you buy from individual artists?

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  And to the Spanish villages too.

   

   Underhill:  Silly question, but how did you

determine what pieces were good, and what things you

thought might sell?

   

   Wagner:  That was my personal choice.  One of the

cousins who is living here now is doing that sort of

thing worldwide.  She's a member of the board of the

World Wildlife Fund.  She has started what you might

call a business, although its nonprofit, as mine was.

When she goes to these meetings of the World Wildlife,

and they're usually in rather strange parts of the

world, she buys the really good crafts and brings them

back here.  She's been having sales of those.  The

things are really so beautiful.  She has exquisite

taste, and she has access to this sort of thing all

over the world.

   

   Underhill:  When you were gathering up crafts and

distributing them, did you find it was difficult to

create a market, or were the stores you were dealing

with very interested in handling things?

   

   Wagner:  With the Pueblo things?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  Well, I already had access to them through

the stores that we'd been selling to from Wide Ruins.

Then it grew.  People would hear about me.

   

   Underhill:  What do you think caused the huge

interest that we now have in Pueblo and Hispanic

crafts?

   

   Wagner:  I think a lot of it was deliberately

fostered--you know, the media gets hold of something

like that and runs with it.  And they did!

   

   Underhill:  How has that, do you think, impacted the

quality of crafts?  Have you seen a change in quality,

now that there's more demand?

   

   Wagner:  I think it's better, actually, because then

things like the Santa Fe Indian Market began to grow

and blossom.  The craft work was judged, and people,

collectors, demanded good quality.  Before that, there

was a lot of junk that was just tourist souvenirs--and

there's still that.  But the people who are really

interested in producing good things now have an outlet,

which they did not have before.

   

   Underhill:  And what do you think of the quality of

Navajo weaving these days?

   

   Wagner:  Well, to my taste, it's too "picketty."

It's too detailed.  I like the really handsome, simple

things.  But this is my taste.  I don't like a rug that

is full of little bits of design, and that's what they

tend to do now, even at Wide Ruins.  (break, tape

paused)

   

   Underhill:  I apologize for jumping around, but as

we were talking during our break, Lew pointed out that

we should ask what your father did in West Virginia.

   

   Wagner:  Well, my family was in the iron and steel

business from before the Revolution.

   

   Underhill:  Oh, my!

   

   Wagner:  He was the president of the Wheeling

Corrugating Company, and a member of the board of

directors of the steel company.

   

   Steiger:  So West Virginia, you were there because

it was connected to all the mining and stuff that went

on there?

   

   Wagner:  Yes, my grandfather brought the steel mills

from the east coast across the mountains to the Ohio

River. It's all very involved. And widespread.  And I

have lots of relatives back there.  The last time I was

there, a cousin of mine gave a dinner party and invited

only cousins, and there were eighty-five of us.

   

   Underhill:  Oh, my gosh!  (laughter)  Wow!

   

   Wagner:  Of course we count cousins unto the third

and fourth generation.  Now, the one that's here, that

I was telling you about, she's my first cousin three

times removed.  (laughter)  But we call each other

"cousin."

   

   Underhill:  A big clan.  (laughs)

   

   Wagner:  Uh-huh.

   

   Underhill:  Now, when you were younger and you

became intrigued with the Southwest and archaeology,

what did you envision life being like?  What did you

think you would end up doing?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, I wanted to be an archaeologist!

   

   Underhill:  And did you want it to be in the

Southwest, or an archaeologist anywhere?

   

   Wagner:  No, with Indians--not necessarily

Southwest.  And as a matter of fact, I did work with

the Pennsylvania Museum in the mound area.

   

   Underhill:  Interesting.  And was that during

college or after college?

   

   Wagner:  No, it was before.

   

   Underhill:  Before college!  (Wagner:  Uh-huh.)  Oh,

my!  (laughs)  That's great.  A very fine museum.

   

   Wagner:  But once I came to the Southwest, like

everybody else, I was hooked on it.

   

   Underhill:  And what captured your attention?

   

   Wagner:  Here?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh, as opposed to West Virginia.

   

   Wagner:  Oh, heavens!  Well, the wide-open country,

the big sky, the freedom for the individual here.  The

social constraints were not, and are not what they are

in the East.

   

   Steiger:  Were you able to follow your interest in

archaeology?  I mean, did you do any digging?

   

   Wagner:  Well, I did with the Pennsylvania Museum,

in the mound area.

   

   Steiger:  But not out here?

   

   Wagner:  Yes, I did, with the School of American

Research--just one year.  And then I became more

interested, actually, in ethnology than archaeology.

But I'm still interested in archaeology, and I'm on the

board of the School of American Research.

   

   Cole:  Tell us about--you mentioned Ansel Adams

staying at the trading post.  Do you have any stories

about him, or what he was like?

   

   Wagner: Yes.  I don't know whether you should turn

this off or not.

   

   Underhill:  We'd like to leave it on.

   

   Wagner:  Ansel used to do an imitation of a

lighthouse.  He had very snappy black eyes, and he used

to do this imitation of a lighthouse.  (demonstrates)

   

   Underhill:  Erick like that, like Ansel Adams, or

archaeologists, or folks who were…

   

   Wagner:  Yes.  Clyde Kluckhohn.  We fished him out

of the wash in the middle of the night one night.

Idiot!  I don't know why he didn't know better.  He and

one of his students drove their station wagon into this

roaring arroyo.  It was raining like crazy.  We had to

pull him out.  So he and his student stayed with us for

a little while.

   Well, there were quite a few well-know people in

their fields, like Martha Graham, she stayed with us

once.  Erick Hawkins, who was her husband at that time,

and who later had his own company and was quite famous--

he visited us many times.  He visited me here quite a

number of times.  He and I used to go back out onto the

reservation, camping.

   And let's see, who else?  Dr. Ted Kidder, the

archaeologist.  There were quite a number of people

like that, well-known.

   

   Underhill:  And were these friendships personal

friendships, and that's how they came to call upon you?

Or were they out touring?

   

   Wagner:  Sometimes one, sometimes the other.  Like

Martha Graham and Erick Hawkins, they simply were

touring around and dropped in, and we got to be friends

that way.  I had known Ted Kidder before, and I'd known

Claude Kluckhohn before.  As a matter of fact, that

meeting where we pulled him out of the arroyo was like

your meeting with Jan.  Pulled him out and we sat on

the bank and looked at each other. Well, well!

   

   Underhill:  Now, you reacquired the trading post

when the person to whom you had sold it couldn't meet

payments.  When did you sell it again?

   

   Wagner:  It was in the fifties, but I don't remember

the exact date.

   

   Underhill:  And what prompted that sale?

   

   Wagner:  Because we knew the Navajos were changing.

   

   Underhill:  To whom did you sell the second time?

   

   Wagner:  We sold it to the tribe.  We could have

sold it to the Lee chain, but the Lees owned all the

other posts around there, and we didn't think that was

such a good idea, to give them a monopoly in the area,

so we sold it to the tribe itself.

   

   Underhill:  How did it work out in terms of an

operation?  Did you hear tell of how the tribal

ownership worked?

   

   Wagner:  I really don't know.  They hired Anglos to

run it, but I don't know from then on.

   

   Cole:  What about Pine Springs?  Did you sell that

one also?

   

   Wagner:  We never really owned that.  We leased it.

The government itself had bought it.

   

   Cole:  And what became of Bill Cousins, then, when

you sold out?

   

   Wagner:  He went to work for one of his brothers,

who had, let's see, the hardware store in Gallup.  He

went to work for him.

   

   Steiger:  So going back and forth in the Ganado

area, did you become familiar with the Hubbells and all

that stuff?

   

   Wagner:  Oh, I knew them, but that's all.

   

   Underhill:  If you could go back in time and change

anything, is there anything that you would change about

that time period?

   

   Wagner:  I'd go back to the way it was before the

war. Yes.  Yeah.  I really liked it there, and I liked

and admired the Navajos.

   

   Underhill:  What do you think you learned from the

Navajo people?

   

   Wagner:  Patience!    sYes, indeed.

   

   Underhill:  You're not wearing a wristwatch, huh?

   

   Wagner:  No watch.

   

   Underhill:  What do you think you taught the people

that you lived with?  Or shared anything with them?

   

   Wagner:  You mean the Navajos?

   

   Underhill:  Uh-huh.

   

   Wagner:  Well, I think we persuaded them to make

good rugs.  The rugs they were making when we first

went there were awful.  I don't know.  I hope that they

learned something good from us--I don't know.

   

   Underhill:  Is there anything that you would want to

add about the trading experience?  We've talked about

the stereotype and what people should know.  Is there

anything else that you would like to add to the story

or to the piece that we're missing?

   

   Wagner:  Unt-uh.

   

   Underhill:  [Lew] always has a good question.

   

   Steiger:  Well, ____________, I have one more, and

then I'll shut up.  You talked about Lukachukai, this

medicine man who cured you of your allergies.  We've

heard some pretty incredible stories.  The McGees were

telling us about medicine men that could find things

that were lost.

   

   Wagner:  What?

   

   Steiger:  We've heard stories about amazing things

that medicine men did, and I'm wondering if Lukachukai,

if you know of other instances of his practice that

were remarkable.  If you saw him pull off anything.

   

   Wagner:  Well, the time that Mary Toddy ran away

from school and she was gone for several days,

naturally everybody was worried about her.  I don't

believe it was Lukachukai--it may have been Black Rock--

did hand trembling to find her.  He said that she was

at a certain hogan at a certain place up in the

mountains--and she was!

   

   Steiger:  Yeah, that's amazing.

   

   Underhill:  Was the hand trembling a ceremony that

people observe, or the medicine man goes off by

himself?

   

   Wagner:  No, you can see it.  (long pause)  Is that

it?

   

   Steiger:  Can't think of anything else intelligent.

   

   Underhill:  You're much more intelligent than we are

about these questions, I think!

   Well, thank you so much for sharing some of your

memories with us this morning, and for your patience,

and good humor when we did not know who Gross Kelly was

not!  Thank you.

   

   [END OF INTERVIEW]