NOHWIKE’ BÁGOWA:

THE HOUSE OF OUR FOOTPRINTS

ANNE GROEBNER

The buildings of Fort Apache have been standing for over 150 years. It is a reminder of the Apache wars, a time in history that changed a traditional, cultural community forever. It still stands as a reminder of what happened because that’s what they, the White Mountain Apache elders, want people to remember. That time in history when the United States Calvary posted a military camp, Camp Apache, to subdue the Apaches, move them off of their homeland, and put them on a reservation. The battles that ensued and the historic trauma it caused have filled history books and inspired movies. It was the last stronghold of Native Americans fighting for freedom. Fighting until the last renegade warrior was captured and removed. What is left are these buildings and a community of people with a rich history that they want to share, so they have resurrected and continue to renovate this part of history that is now called Fort Apache Heritage Foundation, The White Mountain Apache Tribe “Nohwike' Bagowa,” and the White Mountain Apache Cultural Center.

The museum started in 1969. The Tribal Council appointed Edgar Perry as its first director and they set it up in General Crook’s Cabin. This is what Ann Skidmore, present museum director and longest staff member of the Park, told me. “They collected photographs, artifacts and started a library collection of books. They also went out into the community and interviewed the elderly.” They had language experts come and teach the staff the Apache language and worked on the Western Apache dictionary as well as hymnals. It was the first time their own people learned to read and write Apache after it was forbidden by the Anglos to be spoken.

In 1976, the United States Bicentennial year, they managed to get some funds and they moved the museum to the barracks, located on the other side of the Theodore Roosevelt School. Colonel Wharfield, a commanding officer at the Fort, donated funds and some of his own belongings. “I was fortunate to have seen some of the original military gear,” Skidmore tells me. “Sadly,” she says, “the museum caught fire in 1985 and they lost about 95 percent of all of he artifacts. We got out with very little, but we were fortunate to have gotten every person out safely.” The school children and staff came to help, but they couldn’t salvage much because the fire had started in the ceiling and the rafters fell down on top of everything.

They had no choice but to return to General Crook’s Cabin with the few items that were left. “I cried,” Skidmore tells me. “It was the sweet grandmas that told me, ‘Do not cry. Out of ashes good things will happen again and we are going to start over…this is not the end.’” So they put her back on her feet and said, “Let’s go!” Many people donated their office furniture and office supplies as well as photographs and artifacts. They were back in business. 

When the insurance money came in, they built a shell structure for the new museum, but quickly ran out of money and the empty building sat for over 10 years. Then because General Crooks Cabin needed restoring, they were forced to move into one of the small cabins next door and stayed there for about four years.

In 1995, Ramon Riley was put in charge by the late Chairman Lupe. He became the museum director. In 1997, when the new building was completed, they moved into their permanent home. “It took years and years to get a nice building!” Skidmore states. “This is something that the grandma’s and grandpa’s wanted. They wanted a nice building with glass cases with displays that would tell their story.” Many times it felt like the money would be gone, but it was the grandma’s and grandpa’s that encouraged  Skidmore to keep going, to carry these things through, to keep the fires burning — “Don’t let the fire burn out!” they said.

Skidmore is in her sixties and has mentioned retirement. She started working there in 1980 and soon it will be her 43rd anniversary and she wants a cake. However, her goal before retirement is to get all of the documents, photos, and other artifacts, some borrowed from large institutions such as The Smithsonian and The Museum of American Indians in Washington DC,  all digitized so that her staff can have quick access to the information. She says people want to know their family history and some even come in to get their “Apache” name.

When Ramon Riley arrived, he was the museum director and worked with John Welch, the Tribal Historic Reservation Officer to try and put Fort Apache back together and back on the map. The White Mountain Apache Tribal Council knew that it was world known and hoped it would bring the much-needed funds to restore it back as close as possible to its original condition. They wanted a tourist attraction. Ramon and John established the Apache Elder Advisory Group and the Tribal Preservation Office and they got busy. 

The new structure was just sitting there and they needed a museum. So, they got some funds and some grants, hired a museum specialist named Nancy Mahaney, designated her as the museum director, and Riley became the Cultural Resource Director. He also began his present duties as the NAGPRA representative (Native American Graves and Protection and Repatriation Act) for the Tribe. NAGPRA  was passed by Congress in October 1990, and President George H. Bush signed the law on November 16, 1990. NAGPRA provides a process for federal agencies and museums that receive federal funds to repatriate or transfer from their collections certain Native American cultural items — human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony — to lineal descendants, and to Indian tribes.

Through NAGPRA, they applied for funds and then Riley, along with the Elders Apache Advisory Board traveled all over the country to places like New York and Washington DC to find artifacts and human remains from their homeland. During the process, they realized that other Apache Tribes would lay claim to some of the artifacts and that it might cause some problems, so they combined forces with six other Tribes. “Things started to happen after that,” Riley told me. “We went to different museums and appeared before the NAGPRA Reveal Committee. The new law in favor of Native Americans didn’t appeal to some museums that were losing their artifacts, but for the Native Americans, after years of losing this battle, NAGPRA was finally a win for them.

“This place here, people don’t want to talk about it, but I do,” Riley states. “I want to speak the truth because nobody had spoken truth here. Historical trauma happened pretty bad here.” At the age of 82, Riley remembers things talked about by his mom and other elders in his Tribe.  “They were told to kill every man, woman, and child because some other renegades were killing ranchers and miners. The army came from the south. They came from Fort Thomas across the Black River. They destroyed the food caches, destroyed crops, and killed animals including horses. But the two Apache Chiefs said ‘Don’t do anything.’ And they got out the flag for peace. The two chiefs knew that we lived on the Mother Earth. We had everything we need here. We have the four seasons, food in the mountains, and water. So they said, ‘Don’t do anything or we will be exterminated or sent to prison.’” And so their people lived near Fort Apache. People from Cibecue, North Fork, Charrizo started coming here. This was where peace was put into place. They brought in schools and churches and the rest is history.

They have gone through a lot and so the elders knew that this place that holds, Nohwike’Bagowa —The House of Their Footprints — was a place to hold onto. This was their motherland, Mother Earth. “We should be rich people,” Rileys says. 

At 82, Riley also talks of retirement, but says there is still so much to be done.

Krista Beazley has been the CEO of the Fort Apache Heritage Foundation for about seven years. She is over new purchases and inventory at the museum’s gift shop and works with Ann and her staff to build local inventory. “We only buy from local Tribal Members,” Beazley says. “We noticed that tourists prefer authentic Native American handmade items.” Because many on the reservation live in poverty, it helps put money into the community.

Beazley also oversees projects to restore buildings and diligently works on grants to bring in the much-needed funds. They are working on the “Home of Harmony” project which was formerly the boys’ dorm, a mirror image of the girls’ dorm. The Home of Harmony project will have six nice apartments on the top, more office space, and two elongated office spaces in between. They are still debating on an additional interpretation of the site or whether to use the elongated space for local Tribal craftsmen to sell their items in an open market. 

“About 75 percent of the buildings here are restored and occupied,” Beazley tells me. They rent to commercial and residential tenants and they have a waiting list. Theodore Roosevelt School needs housing for its teachers and they are working on a large space in building 113 for their stem lab which is desperately needed. Beazley tells me that if someone commits to renting for 10-plus years, they will expedite the renovation and move them in sooner and at a comparable rent based on surrounding Navajo and Apache rental structures.

The Tribe and the Foundation are working together to go after the remaining funds from the BIA and to get the funds as soon as possible. They are also working on several other grants and funding projects. They already have their master plan in place, so as soon as the money arrives they will get to work. Beazley, as well as Riley and Skidmore, hope that within a couple of years, they will get to the point where they will see bus-loads of tourists at their new site.

Fort Apache Historic Park is open Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., Saturday from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., and Closed on Sunday. Their winter hours change to the Monday through Friday hours, but if large groups want to come on Saturday, they can call and make arrangements ahead of time and a staff member will come and let them in. 

“To the living Apache of Arizona… — in sorrow at what they lost, and awe at what they saved.”

Dedication by David Roberts, Author of “Once They Moved Like The Wind.”