The Other Arizona, Redux

In 1871 an O’odham war party slipped north of the Salt River and attacked a group of Yavapais below Four Peaks in the Mazatzal Mountains. The Pimas killed most of the adults but took the children captive, including a little boy named Wassaja. They sold him to an Italian photographer named Carlos Gentile for thirty dollars, and Gentile renamed him Carlos Montezuma. That name encompassed a world of changing meaning for Wassaja and Indian children like him. Gentile gave the boy his first name, but the second was generic Indian, harkening back to an Aztec past that had nothing to do with the Yavapais of central Arizona. Wassaja would never see his immediate family again. His mother was shot by army scouts while searching for her children. His father died on the San Carlos Reservation. His sisters were sold to a man who took them to Mexico. It was a time of diaspora and disintegration, when the Anglo world felt justified in taking Indian children away from their parents to “civilize” them. Wassaja grew up in Illinois and New York, far from his kinsmen and the sacred mountains of his people. When he returned to Arizona thirty years later, Carlos Montezuma was a physician and a leader in the emerging pan-Indian movement. One of the first Native Americans to receive a medical degree, he spent seven years working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) on reservations across the West. His experiences gave him an abiding contempt for the BIA and its reservation system. Like Booker T. Washington and other reformers of the era, Montezuma believed that Native Americans had to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and “press forward where the Indians ought to be—man among men.” He advocated hard work and