By Steve Bankhead
**Originally published in the December 27, 1997 Santa Cruz Sentinel**
Cherokee adoption of European culture in the early 19th Century might give the impression of a collaborative people, but the tribe was actually a source of constant perplexity for early settlers.
British pacification efforts around 1730 were rebuffed by Cherokee chiefs, who described war as "our beloved occupation." A colonial officer later described the tribe's independent nature: "They are like the devil's pig; they will neither lead nor drive."
Colonists also disapproved of Cherokee traditions allowing females to sit on war councils and serve as chiefs. For that, Cherokee males were sometimes accused of living under a "petticoat government."
Equal to their fascination with war was the tribe's fascination with words. Hostilities began with a chief chanting this war song: "Wherever the earth's enlightened by the sun...Moon shines by night, grass grows, or waters run...Be it known that we are going like men afar...In hostile fields to wage destructive war."
Also high among the tribal passions was humor. Making a point in council with a witty line was highly esteemed. That humor was richly displayed in tribal animal myths. An 1845 edition of their newspaper, the Cherokee Advocate, told the story of how animals trapped the trickster rabbit with a tar wolf. But the rabbit escaped by convincing the captors that their worst punishment would be to throw it into a thicket, which was actually the rabbit's home.
Three years later, Joel Chandler Harris was born in the displaced Cherokees' ancestral homeland in Northern Georgia. Their stories were still told by slaves formerly owned by Cherokees, and Harris published them decades later in his Uncle Remus stories.
The Cherokee animal stories might have been ascribed to others due to lack of knowledge, or lingering Georgian guilt over living on their stolen lands. Another factor, however, was the prevalent belief that Native Americans had no sense of humor. Actually, Native Americans simply had little to laugh about during the 19th Century.
For the Cherokees, it was a time of captivity and forced exodus. One-fourth of the tribe perished in the 1838 Trail of Tears removal to Oklahoma, and most of what they managed to rebuild there was devastated when the tribe was split into Union and Confederate factions during the Civil War.
The tribe of laughter had become the tribe of tears.
It came to pass that as the 19th century ended, there was a decree that Cherokees gather in Oklahoma for a final census - the Dawes Roll. A Cherokee woman named Mary dwelt there, and she had a likable son named after the tribal leader William Penn Adair. Her son became skilled in ranch chores, especially roping; and displayed that art in wild west shows billed as The Cherokee Kid.
On rare occasions when a trick failed, be began salvaging routines with wry comments like "Swinging a rope is all right, if your neck ain't in it." Such gags became even more popular than his rope tricks, and he acquired star billing. But his full name of William Penn Adair Rogers seemed too long for such an unassuming fellow, so he was simply called Will Rogers.
His satire struck a common chord with the American people, and he eventually had a syndicated column for his social commentaries. When he wrote "I don't make jokes, I just watch the government and report the facts" the entire country laughed - including the government.
He even needled his own party. proclaiming "I am not a member of any organized political party. I am a Democrat." Of progress, he declared "You can't say civilization don't advance, for in every war they kill you in a new way."
Concerning his own heritage, Will remarked "My ancestors didn't come in the Mayflower, but they met the boat." And public affection allowed him to get away with calling Thanksgiving a holiday "started by the Pilgrims, who would give thanks every time they killed an Indian and took more of his land."
When Will died in a 1935 plane crash, his typewriter was found containing an unfinished column ending abruptly with the word "death". But while he lived, he brought our country the healing gift of laughter during World War I and the Depression. And his humor probably brought the greatest joy to the world of the Cherokees, for they understood the full context of his gentle yet incisive barbs. Besides, it had been many years since there was much for Cherokees to laugh about at all.