A Racial Rift on the Frontier
The Apache Novels of Edgar Rice
Burroughs
by Alan Hanson
There are those in American society
today who call themselves progressive reformers. They like to point fingers,
and one of their digits has, from time to time, been aimed at Tarzan
of the Apes, as they accuse his creator of racism. It is a charge
that has failed to draw popular support, in large part because race relations
is a minor player in the Tarzan saga, dominated as it is by other, much
broader themes. The same cannot be said, however, of Edgar Rice Burroughs’
two Apache novels. Race relations are at the thematic heart of The
War Chief and Apache Devil, and it is difficult to
discuss this saga at all without referring to the author’s interpretation
of the historical racial tension between Apache and white man.
For Burroughs in the 1920s, it was
just as controversial a subject as it is for an author today. In fact,
The
War Chief was rejected by the editor of “The Country Gentleman,”
the first magazine to which Burroughs submitted it, because the editor
did not think his readers would accept the independent Apache hero Burroughs
had created. There is a difference, though, between the themes of race
relations and racism. When an author directly or indirectly favors one
race over another, he opens himself to criticism from the advocates of
the slighted race. How skillful, then, was Burroughs when he wrote about
the 19th Century struggle for possession of the American frontier? Is there
a basis in those two novels for a charge of racism? Many who have read
the two stories would quickly respond that, yes, Burroughs did favor one
race — the Apache. Even some of his most well known reviewers have seen
it that way, as illustrated by the following passages.
“Indians, particularly Apaches,
are treated with great sympathy in ‘The War Chief’ and ‘Apache
Devil;’ their historically confirmed atrocities against white settlers
are largely justified as the reaction against the treachery and aggression
of the whites.” — Richard Lupoff, “Edgar Rice Burroughs: Master of
Adventure” (1965)
“It is true that to a certain
extent Ed was writing as a reformer, his indignation about the white man’s
behavior is forcefully presented.” — Irwin Porges, “Edgar Rice Burroughs:
The Man Who Created Tarzan” (1975)
“What is notable is the fact
that Burroughs is one of the first white novelists to portray the Apaches
in particular and Indians in general with understanding and sympathy.”
— Robert Morsberger, Introduction to “The War Chief,” Gregg
Press edition (1978)
If Burroughs did intend to favor
the Indians in his Apache novels, he no doubt received more criticism for
it in the 1920s than he could expect today. In the politically correct
atmosphere in which we live, such racism is acceptable. The reverse would
not be (although the pendulum seems to be swinging back to the right).
Laying aside for now the concept of political correctness, the purpose
here is to test the nearly universal perception among Burroughs fans and
scholars that the author portrayed the Apaches as a more virtuous race
than the white Americans of that time.
As the statements from Lupoff, Porges,
and Morsberger indicate, ERB’s Apache novels can be viewed more as a condemnation
of the white race than an ennobling of the red one. However, by giving
Shoz-Dijiji white ancestry and having him return to white society at the
end of the second volume, ERB left the saga open to another interpretation,
that white culture was being portrayed as preferable, despite all the surface
criticism of it. In his article, “Civilization and The Noble Savage:
The Apache Novels of Edgar Rice Burroughs,” published in “Paperback
Parade #10” (December 1988), Link Hullar summarized this argument:
“Shoz-Dijiji, as the central
character and most important of the noble savages, betrays Burroughs’ racism
once again. Yes, Shoz-Dijiji stumbles upon white values, white morality,
white ethics, and even falls in love with a white woman but Black Bear
is not Apache. He is, after all, white himself. One can see here that,
in spite of ERB’s balanced treatment of the different cultures, this undercurrent
of racism remains. Shoz-Dijiji’s case shows that race is more important
than environment. Even though reared as an Apache, Black Bear is too noble
to resort to torture, begins to accept white notions of fair play and justice,
and, by the end of the second novel, has made the decision to settle down
on the ranch of Wichita Billings to pursue love and happiness in the white
man’s world. Obviously, racism did not vanish in the pages of ERB’s Apache
novels.”
Romanticizing
the Apache Race
Who is right? Did Burroughs uplift
the Indian in his Apache novels, or was he merely romanticizing a race
that had been subdued by a superior one — his own? It is not an easy question
to answer. It requires the reader of Burroughs’ Apache novels to keep a
watchful eye open for evidence of racial preference on either side.
First of all, Burroughs clearly
portrayed both races as feeling superior to the other. Both raised their
children to hate all members of the other race. ERB explained that Wichita
Billings was raised “in an atmosphere of racial hatred, schooled in
ignorance and bigotry by people who looked upon every race and nation,
other than their own race and nation, as inferior.” This early education
in racism was reinforced by the repeated use of the racial slur “Dirty
Siwash” in reference to all Apaches and the use by several white characters
of the infamous generalization, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”
While painting the whites as racists, Burroughs also pointed out that the
Apaches were guilty of the same thing. Geronimo taught the young Sho-Dijiji
that all whites were cowards and liars, and that it was his duty as an
Apache to “kill and torture and hate” the Mexicans and the Americans.
Gian-hah-tah, Shoz-Dijiji’s boyhood friend, contended that, “The pindah-lickoyee
are low born and fools. They are not fit for an Apache. “ The Black
Bear himself considered it the “bitterest of insults” for it to
be said that an Apache was white.
Burroughs had his hero act out his
racial hatred on several occasions, such as when Shoz-Dijiji came upon
three white prospectors drinking at a water hole. As he asked the rhetorical
question, “What the hell are you doing here, you dirty white eyes?”
the Apache shot arrows through the hearts of all three. In portraying both
sides as being equally prejudiced toward the other, Burroughs comes across
as an objective narrator, at least in this aspect of the story.
ERB carefully pointed out the importance
of point of view in the struggle between Indian and white man. Blinded
by racial hatred, neither could understand what motivated the other. Of
Geronimo, ERB noted, “It was as impossible for him to get the viewpoint
of the white man as it was for the white man to get the viewpoint of the
Apache.” Toward the end of Apache Devil, Burroughs explained
that, “in common with whites, Apaches possessed the very human trait
of easily forgetting the wrongs they had committed against others, even
though they might harbor those that were committed against them.” In
his Apache novels, Burroughs showed how this inability of both sides to
admit wrongdoing deteriorated into a cycle of revenge that last three hundred
years. The whites won in the end, not because their culture was better
or worse, but simply because they outnumbered the Apaches. Burroughs had
an Indian Scout explain, “We cannot kill them all — they are as many
as the weeds that grow among our corn and beans and pumpkins — for though
we cut them down, they come in greater numbers than before, flourishing
best in soil that is wet with blood.” Again, the author has be credited
with presenting a racially balanced point of view (along with some vivid
figurative language.)
Wichita
Billings Humanized the Apaches
If ERB’s Apache novels, then, actually
give a balanced view of the Apache wars, placing equal amounts of blame
on both sides, why are the stories seemingly so sympathetic toward the
Apaches? There are three reasons; all of them surface elements that have
nothing to do with the narrative or actions of the characters. First, the
story is told from the Apache point of view and so naturally comes off
as understanding of it. For instance, the Apaches saw themselves as defenders
of their homeland from invaders, surely an image with which the reader
can sympathize. Burroughs even included the following stretch of a comparison.
“The Black Bear killed not for the love of it but from a sense of duty
to his people and loyalty to the same cause that inspired such men as Washington
and Lincoln — freedom.” Second, Burroughs included many passages designed
to humanize the Apaches. Burroughs’ mouthpiece for these sentiments is
the character of Wichita Billings.
“Among themselves they are entirely
different people from those we are accustomed to see on the reservation.
No one who has watched them with their children, seen them at their games,
heard them praying to Dawn and Twilight, to the Sun, the Moon and the Stars
as they cast their sacred hoddentin to the winds would ever again question
their possession of the finer instincts of sentiment and imagination.
“Because they do not wear their
hearts upon their sleeves, because they are not blatant in the declaration
of their finer emotions, does not mean that they feel no affection or that
they are incapable of experiencing spiritual sufferings.
“Apaches do not esteem personal
comfort as highly as we do and consequently, by their standards — and we
may judge a people justly only by their own standards — we have not suffered
as much as they, who esteem more highly than life or personal comfort the
sanctity of their ancient rites and customs.”
This passage, and others like it
scattered throughout both novels, do not justify the atrocities of the
Apaches, but rather were designed to show the reader that Indians possess
qualities that whites generally find admirable. Finally, when ERB engaged
in biting sarcasm directed at whites and their civilization, it has the
effect of making the reader sympathize with the Apaches. For instance,
in The War Chief, the author asked the reader to make allowances
for Shoz-Dijiji, for, “had he had the cultural advantages of the gorgeous
generals of civilization he might have found the means to unloose a poison
gas that might have destroyed half the population of Sanora.” Such
sarcasm is designed for the white reader to feel both shame for his own
race and compassion for the Apaches. The same can be said for the following
passage after the final surrender of Geronimo in Apache Devil. “Once
again a Christian nation had exterminated a primitive people who had dared
to defend their homeland against a greedy and ruthless invader.” Notice
that none of the devices ERB used to create sympathy for the Apaches had
anything to do with the actions of the Indians in the two Apache novels.
It appears that ERB’s favoritism
for the Indians in his Apache novels is only surface deep. When it comes
to actions and emotions, Burroughs portrayed both sides as being equally
cruel, hateful, and insensitive. He never attempted to justify the actions
of the Apaches, only to explain the motivation that prompted them.
The
Apaches Neither All Bad Nor All Good
In accusing Burroughs of veiled
white racism, Link Hullar made much of the fact that Shoz-Dijiji was really
white, and that his refusal to torture implied that whites were inherently
more humane than Apaches. One does begin to suspect just that early in
The
War Chief when, after killing his first white man, Shoz-Dijiji
took the scalp but refused to mutilate the dead or torture the wounded.
A hasty reader could easily jump to the conclusion that it was Shoz-Dijiji’s
superior white heritage that caused him to act so humanely, while the lowborn
savages around him gave in to the natural bloodlust of their race. However,
Burroughs made it immediately clear that, in reality, Shoz-Dijiji was not
the only Indian who refused to torture. “He was not the only exception
among his fellows to the general rule that all Apaches took delight in
inflicting diabolical sufferings upon the helpless.” Therefore, whether
or not to engage in torture was a personal decision for each Apache, Burroughs
suggested, and not a racial tendency. Besides, the author made it clear
that some whites tortured Indians, as well as killing women and children.
The choice to commit atrocities was a personal, not racial, decision on
both sides. In narration, ERB clearly stated his point of view. “Apaches
are human and as individuals of other human races vary in their characteristics,
so Apaches vary. The Apaches were neither all good nor all bad.”
The characters of these two novels
bear that out. Geronimo is portrayed as a good Indian, while Juh is a bad
one. Lt. King is portrayed as a good white man, while Dirty Cheetim is
a bad one. There is no clear evidence that any of Shoz-Dijiji’s actions
in either book were dictated by his white heritage.
Hullar also saw Shoz-Dijiji’s willingness
to enter white society as a concession to the victorious and superior race.
However, Shoz-Dijiji was simply exercising the best option left open to
him at that point. He could have shipped out for Florida with the rest
of the tribe (and history has certainly proved he was wise in his refusal
to do that). He could have lived a solitary life in the mountains, as he
first intended to do, but the loneliness of that life caused him to return
to the woman he loved, who just happened to be white. I say “just happened”
because it cannot be said that his white blood drew him naturally to love
a white woman. After all, Wichita Billings was not Shoz-Dijiji’s first
love. That was Ish-kay-nay, an Apache woman, whom Shoz-Dijiji clearly loved
deeply and would have married had she not died.
In fact, besides not being a reflection
of the author’s racist ideas, Shoz-Dijiji’s white heritage is virtually
irrelevant in the story. The sequence of events in the two novels could
have been exactly the same had ERB made Shoz-Dijiji a full-blooded Apache.
Shoz-Dijiji was raised an Apache and became a leader among them. That could
have happened had Geronimo been his biological father instead of Jerry
McDuff. We’ve seen that his decision not to torture enemies was a personal
one, not related to race. Even if he had been an Apache, he would not have
gone with the tribe to Florida. He had already made that decision before
Geronimo told him about his real parents. In the end, Wichita Billings
vowed her love for Shoz-Dijiji while still thinking him an Apache. His
parentage played no important role in the story line.
ERB’s
Concession to Sell Books
In the final analysis, it appears
that ERB’s choice to give Shoz-Dijiji a white father instead of an Apache
one appears to have been an economic decision, not a racist one. Burroughs
knew he was writing for a white audience, and he knew his readers would
have difficulty identifying with a hero of a different race. Also, ERB
knew his white readers could never sympathize with a hero who tortured
enemies and killed women and children. The white blood that flowed in Shoz-Dijiji’s
veins, then, was a concession Burroughs made to sell books. The conclusion
that it was a racist element in the story is simply not supported by Burroughs’
treatment of the character in the two novels.
Finally, it should be noted the
whole debate about the effect of Shoz-Dijiji’s white blood on his character
is minimized by the fact that he was, in reality, of mixed heritage, something
Hullar seemed not to realize. While his father was white, his mother, Annie
Foley was the granddaughter of a Cherokee Indian. Therefore, Shoz-Dijiji
was at least one-eighth Indian by birth. If ERB were trying to make a point
about the superiority of white culture, he surely would have made Shoz-Dijiji’s
ancestry purely European, like he did with Tarzan. In fact, ERB’s Apache
epic ends with a great irony. Throughout his youth and early manhood, Shoz-Dijiji
was proud he was an Indian. In the end, though, he was told that he was
totally white. He was never to know that the blood of both races flowed
in his veins. One can understand Geronimo’s reason for withholding that
information from his adopted son, but one cannot help but feel sorry for
Andy McDuff, who was so suddenly and so completely cut off from a culture
and a lifestyle that he so obviously loved. Critics like Link Hullar, who
see racism in the presence of irony, have completely misread Edgar Rice
Burroughs’ balanced and tragic interpretation of the Apache wars.
— the end —
