A Potlatch at Neah Bay: Blankets, Money, and a Makah Celebration

Editor Argus: Happening to be at Neah Bay recently, I was astonished to see such numbers of cheerful, neatly dressed Native people. The prevailing good humor of the crowd showed plainly that it was an occasion. On inquiry I learned that the grand potlatch was the exciting cause, and that certain great and good men of the tribe, in a spirit of generosity, would endow their friends and relations with gifts.

Were you ever at a potlatch? Unhappy men, I presume not, for the potlatches up the Sound are neither rich nor numerous enough to make such an occasion interesting, and their attempts at display are as much inferior to the genuine article as a glass of Port Townsend whisky is to the nectar the gods feed on. Bear with me a moment while we contemplate the beauties of this custom.

The festivities were in progress when, accompanied by a friend and representing an unmuzzled press, we made an unostentatious entrance and took a position in what seemed, from certain indications, to be the lady circle. There must have been 400 Indians in the building, and a dance was in progress which looked like a cross between a Scotch reel and the limp of a boy with a stone bruise on his heel, interspersed with a mild yell now and then. Guided by the monotonous thump of the Indian drum, the whole formed a scene of wild gaiety quite startling to see. Now and then would occur a kind of promenade: the drums would hold their peace while the festive throng sponged away perspiration, which streamed from every face. Some venerable man would rise and make a remark on this interesting occasion. The Indian orators are very dignified and delivered themselves with impressive eloquence when the light lit up their eyes; their words count for much. The short, sententious speeches over, the dance resumed with more noise and universal swaying of bodies in excellent accompaniment to the chant, which all joined in, keeping splendid time, with as rapid exclamations and gesticulations as a French opera singer. By and by the song became slow and soft, a kind of wail, and finally ceased.

These Makahs, for whose profit and comfort nature and Uncle Sam so liberally provide, are as a tribe quite wealthy, controlling in individual instances a good deal of capital. One was pointed out to me, the widow Gaines of the tribe, who, I understood, was worth several thousand dollars. At a signal from somebody the drums and noise subsided, and next in order was the sensation of the day, the formal potlatch of money, blankets, etc. Each recipient's name was loudly called, much in court bailiff style, the knowing rascals courting an enviable notoriety by waiting till called several times. As they advanced up the broad, clear floor to receive their gift, some of their faces were fine studies. Some put on a look of humble, patient waiting—these were generally females. The elderly man received his money or blankets with a look which said, 'I'll take them to accommodate you,' and stalked off to his seat. The young fellows stepped nimbly forward and almost snatched them. Outside some young bloods were dashing about on their cayuse horses to the evident admiration of their mammas and sweethearts, who sat around in little knots pensively devouring hard bread and molasses, or with vain conceit disfiguring their broad, good-natured faces with vermilion and tallow. Several hundred dollars in cash and more blankets than one could shake a stick at were given away. The Nitinaht guests from Vancouver Island got most of the plunder.

One distinguishing trait of these people is their correct appreciation of financial values, and they can in a trade see just as far into a grindstone as a white man. They cultivate some of the social virtues, being profuse in hospitality when a quarter is in sight. Their aspirations are simple, the end and aim of existence being the acquisition of dry halibut and blankets. In their fishing for halibut they go far out to sea, starting in early morning and returning, if not out all night, at the close of the day. Some of them are expert whalers and have taken several whales the past summer. Always after a successful whaling an aroma of scorched blubber pervades the camp, the trying-out being done by the women, whose raiment becomes fearfully soiled; but as this work only lasts during the summer months, they have all the winter in which to make a neater toilet. Soap is always in demand. I think that article must in some way be mixed up with their ideas of a future state, for they seldom mix it with water, but place it religiously away to be handed down to the unwashed rising generation. These nomads of the sea are a cheerful race.