Challenging Bias in Apache History: A Journey Toward Cross-Border Truths

For some time now, I have known of my Apache family’s history of interactions with the United States and our efforts to establish Apache Indian reservations with both the U.S. and Mexico. Of the three treaties signed with the U.S., the 1852 Treaty was the only ratified. The 1860 Gila Apache Indian Reservation, placed into reserve by the U.S. in the modern communities of Gila and Cliff, New Mexico, had been forgotten. By 1877, the U.S. government dissolved the Southern Apache Indian Agency. I am aware of the reservations my ancestors sought and proposed peacefully, including the site near Fort Bowie, Arizona, in December 1879. However, the U.S. had no interest in opening another Apache agency in southeastern Arizona, as it already had San Carlos, where many groups had been relocated. The Gila and Chiricahua have lived on several reservations of other tribes but never received a permanent reservation for our communities in our homelands.

Following the failed attempts for a reservation with the U.S., my family made another effort in Mexico on November 9, 1881. We initiated peace negotiations with Joaquin Terrazas and his troops in Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, Mexico. We aimed to establish the sacred Carcay Mountains as our reservation, but this attempt was also unsuccessful. This summer marked my first visit to Chihuahua, where I engaged with the local community while researching my Apache roots. My friend and host, Dr. Philip ‘Felipe’ Stover, organized various meetings during my trip to facilitate discussions with knowledgeable individuals in the area. He even hosted a brunch with his history colleagues, including Maestro Leopoldo Horacio Chavez, one of the most knowledgeable public historians in the region, where we had a thoughtful conversation about the Apache in Mexico.

Sitting at the table in Dr. Felipe’s home, not far from the Carcays, I realized I held personal beliefs about the Apache based on assumptions, experiences, and expectations shaped by my life in the United States. I learned my research was also influenced to fit U.S. historical narratives surrounding the Apache. I needed to expand my definition of North American Indigenous to include Mexico. Additionally, I confronted my prejudices regarding who identified as Apache and who is Mexican. As it happens, many Mexicans have Indigenous roots. Therefore, Mexican refers to a nationality rather than an ethnicity.

Thanks to Dr. Felipe’s friend Maestro Chavez, I received personal instruction in geography, history, and translation, which improved my ability to interpret Spanish church records. Guided by Dr. Felipe's translation, our research focused on Tan-din-bil-no-jui, or ‘Juh,’ one of the Apache leaders who cared little for Anglos or Mexicans and played a significant role in negotiating peace alongside his affinal relative Geronimo in 1879 and 1881. According to insights from an informant interviewed by anthropologist Ana María Alonso, PhD, Juh was baptized Lino Leyva, the son of Leonardo Prudencio Leyva, also known as ‘Pláceris (Láceris/Placeres/Laceres)’ who was considered an Apache associated with the Janos presidio.

Another leader, Niseforo ‘Feroz’ Leyva, predated Pláceris as a leading Apache at Janos. Beginning in 1800, Pláceris’ uncle Feroz came to peace with Spaniards living at Janos. His relations continued through Mexico’s Independence, demonstrating my family's historic diplomacy in Janos, Chihuahua. Following a truce on September 16, 1832, Feroz, Costilla, and (José) Chato from the Gila–El Cobre area (Silver City) visited Mexican officials at Janos. After Feroz faded from the scene, Pláceris rose in leadership.

In May and June of 1846, Pláceris and my 4th great-grandfather Francisco Maturino Silva, AKA ‘Maturán,’ a Bedonkohe Apache band leader, had a series of peace negotiations with the Mexican Commander of the Galeana presidio. On June 24, 1850, Pláceris was among the signers of a treaty between the “Chihene and Nahnhi [Nednhi] Bands of Chiricahua Apache and [the Mexican State of] Chihuahua.” He also played a role in peace treaties with the United States. However, he did not sign the 1853 Treaty with the Rio Mimbres and Rio Gila Apache like his cousins, my 3rd great-grandfather Josécito and José Nuevo (also Feroz's nephews). In June 1855, Pláceris, José Nuevo, and several of my direct ancestors signed a treaty with the U.S. for a reservation in the Mimbres Valley in New Mexico. That treaty was not ratified. The author Edwin R. Sweeney places Pláceris’s rancheria on the Mimbres River in southwestern New Mexico in 1856. Pláceris’s Nednhi band also camped in the Carcay Mountains near Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, demonstrating transborder living.

In Chapter Four of the Ethnographic Overview and Assessment of Chiricahua National Monument and Fort Bowie National Historic Site, the anthropologist Dr. Scott Rushforth presents a detailed “Chiricahua Apache Historical Timeline.” In listing the Apache Geronimo’s final surrender, Rushforth cites a September 7, 1886, military entry stating, “Three men, three women, and a boy leave Geronimo’s group, never to return. Their fate is unknown, but they are likely killed by Mexican troops.” Nothing more of my family who remained free is contained within the remaining timeline that ends on October 4, 1980, with the completion of the Fort Sill Apache Tribal Headquarters in Oklahoma.

One inaccuracy in Western historical narratives is the assumption that the Apache who fled to Mexico before being sent to Florida as prisoners of war were killed. Some of them lived long lives. Neil Goodwin shared Anthropologist Thomas Hinton’s research notes with me. Hinton interviewed a credible rancher, Mr. Neil Parker, in Batuc, Sonora. Parker told Hinton that in 1948 or 49, he and a Mexican guide met Apaches after crossing the Aros River (in Nednhi Apache band territory). While in the gorges west of Rancho Malanoche, the two men came upon Apaches in buckskin with G-strings [loin clothes], moccasins, and long hair. An Apache approached and spoke little Spanish. He identified himself as Apache, living with thirty Apache families. Some living there claimed a connection to Nana (pronounced Nanay), a Chihene Apache band leader taken captive and sent east as a prisoner of war. Similar information in Florence Cline Lister and Robert Hill Lister’s book, Chihuahua: Storehouse of Storms, supports Mr. Parker’s encounter. Citing former two-time Chihuahua Governor Francisco R. Almada, in 1966, the Listers wrote, "It is estimated that approximately twenty-five Apache families still roam the no man's land of mountains between northern Sonora and Chihuahua (p.310)."

This perspective challenges the prevailing belief that only a tiny remnant of free Apaches existed in Mexico. Could twenty-five families in 1960 have descended from fewer than a dozen individuals in the Sierra Madres 75 years earlier? The late anthropologist Grenville Goodwin, who lived near the Apache community, documented his experiences and research through ethnographic interviews. In the 1930s, he interviewed several members of the Western Apache community and recorded interactions with the Chiricahua Apache people.

One of Grenville's diary entries detailed his interviews with Chiricahua Apache elders Sam Kenoi and Sam Haozous, who personally knew an Apache man who had fled to Mexico refusing to surrender in 1886. This man was Adelnietze, son of Nahilzay (one of the Chokonen Apache band leader Cochise’s war captains) and a grandson of Maturán. Adelnietze had a son, and they noted that the son would have been in his fifties or sixties at the time of the interview, which took place on July 4, 1938. Additional research suggests that Satsinistu was likely the teenage male and son of Adelnietze, described as having fled to Fort Bowie with Natcułbaye (Elías), Adelnietze, and the women.

“In the book Chasing Geronimo, U.S. Army Lieutenant Leonard Wood, on September 8th, 1886, writes, “Last night three bucks, one of them a brother [cousin] of Natchez, a well-grown boy, and three women left camp.” While not all the names of those who escaped were provided, authors like Edwin R. Sweeney, Neil Goodwin (son of Grenville Goodwin), and others have provided some names. These names include Apache Massai, Apache Kid, Apache Juan (a son of 3rd great-grandfather Isac Gardiła), José María Elías AKA Natcułbaye and wife Dejonah (a 3rd great-grandparents), Adelnietze, and Satsinistu, and the families of the captive youths Lupe, Carmela, Julio, and countless others. In the late 19th century, the Tombstone Epitaph on August 20, 1890, highlighted additional free Apache individuals, including Na-pi-a and El-cha-nache.”

Seven years later, on August 15, 1897, the San Francisco Call newspaper reported an encounter between a group of surveyors and Elías (Natcułbaye). The article lists Elías as a sub-chief of Geronimo’s band of Bedonkohe-Ndendahe [‘Standing in front of the Enemy’], pictured in the C.S. Fly photographs from March 1886. While crossing paths in the wild, Elías, identifiable by his Apache accent, revealed he had traveled to Nogales, near tudiłhił [Douglas, Arizona], for business. Despite being armed and carrying a heavy backpack, the surveyors, unaware of his identity, chose not to apprehend him, especially as he was far from the San Carlos Apache Reservation.

The next day, they learned that he had purchased ammunition cartridges. Elías eventually returned to the Sierra Madres, having evaded capture once again. It was said the State of Sonora desired a peace treaty with my great-grandfather Elías. My family believed that Mexico and the United States could not be trusted, and thus no treaty transpired. He passed away of natural causes in 1903 with no permanent reservation.

Exploring my Apache ancestors' untold stories is more than just a historical examination; it is a powerful reclamation of identity and truth. By challenging the biases found in conventional narratives, I honor the resilience and sovereignty of those who came before me. Their unwavering dedication to fostering peace and preserving their way of life despite immense challenges exemplifies our enduring spirit. Uncovering these hidden histories reaffirms our rightful place within our homelands and the broader context of North America, ensuring that the Apache legacy will continue to inspire future generations.