I always love it when an interesting story falls into my lap, especially when it has to do with the history of Arizona. This one came courtesy of my friend Pam during our coffee talk. Pam and her husband love to travel around Arizona in places many of us will not get to see. Armed with a GPS and surveyor maps, they take their 4 wheel drive truck and head out into the desert to parts unknown. One of the places they came across is where the Oatman massacre happened. I haven’t heard of this story, so I did some research and now I’m sharing it with you.
In January 1851, the Oatman family along with an emigrant party entered Arizona which was part of the New Mexican territory. Mr. Royse Oatman was a member of the party which had around ninety members. Many arguments caused the group to divide up with the Oatmans, the cook and about twenty or so others heading off on their own. By the time they arrived in Tucson, their provisions were just about depleted, and many from the group decided to stay.
Two other families besides the Oatmans decided to head off to California where they felt that a better life was waiting for them. Not packing well for the long journey, they pushed forward across the ninety-mile desert. Around the middle of February they arrived at the Pimo villages hoping to replenish their supplies. Since it had been a bad season, the Pimos had nothing to spare. The Wilder and Kelley families decided not to push on but Mr. Oatman wanted to continue. With his supplies almost gone, Mr. Oatman was wondering about the miles of desert between the Pimo villages and Fort Yuma with much more desert beyond that before reaching California.
Soon to arrive from Fort Yuma was a Dr. Lecount, who did much exploring of the Pacific coast, and told Mr. Oatman that the route was safe. He saw no hostile Indians and encountered no other problems along the way. This news gave Mr. Oatman much hope and he decided to continue to California right away. On March 11, the Oatman family, along with a sparse supply, Dr. Lecount and a Mexican guide, took off on the long journey to Fort Yuma. After seven days, Mr. Oatman realized that his family and oxen were unable to continue and needed help. Dr. Lecount and his guide went ahead for help but were attacked by Indians and had their horses stolen. His guide went ahead with the Dr. Lecount following far behind. He left a card tied to a tree to warn the Oatman family about the Apaches attacking them. The Oatmans missed the warning, pushing on and right into massive storms. Miles from any towns and terrified, Mr. Oatman tried not to show any fear but some of his family saw him shed tears while resting in the wagon.
The next day while in a rough mesa, they unloaded some of the stress off their road weary animals by taking many of their personal items out and pushing the wheels to ease the burden. They came upon a flat area near a river and stopped there to rest. After crossing a creek bed and dense thickest, they found themselves at the foot of a rocky bluff. They realized that they needed to unload more items from the wagon in order to make it over the hill. Sitting at the top and seeing the long dusty road for which they have already passed, Mr. Oatman felt worried about what lied ahead for his family. Will they starve to death before reaching their destination, he just didn’t know.
Shortly afterwards, he noticed a band of Indians approaching them from the road. The Oatman children went to their father for protection and he told them not to be afraid. He tried to stay strong for his family and assured them that the Indians would not hurt them. He figured that if they treat them with kindness, the Indians would react in kind. When they approached, Mr. Oatman spoke to them in Spanish, asking them to sit. They sat down, asked for tobacco and pipes, smoked together in what seemed like a token of friendship. Then they asked for some food and all they were able to give them was a little bread. Afterwards, the Oatman family began reloading their wagon and noticed their visitors were looking a bit eager. Then unexpectedly, the Indians started yelling, raised their clubs and unleashed their fury on the family. Their fourteen year old boy, Lorenzo, was first and was struck in the head, and then Mr. Oatman was beaten many times before falling to his death. Mrs. Oatman clung to the youngest child, screaming for help before they both were bludgeoned to death. Lorenzo lay bleeding to death while his sisters Olive, who was sixteen, and Mary Anne, all of eleven, were dragged aside. They pushed Lorenzo’s bloody body over a cliff where he fell about twenty feet onto the rocks below. Olive and Mary Anne where taken hostage by the Apache, while Lorenzo lay dying below.
Lorenzo didn’t die and was able to climb back up the hill where the dead bodies of his parents, brothers and sisters, were still lying beaten and bloody. Not seeing the bodies of his sisters, Olive and Mary Anne, he sadly knew they were taken captive and knew their fate was not good. He managed to reach a river, sleep for a few hours, and then try and reach the Pimo villages. After a few days of crawling on his hands and knees and suffering from dehydration, he laid under a bush to die. Lorenzo’s journey was not to end there, he overcame being surrounded by a pack of wolves, the harsh elements of the desert before coming upon two Pimo Indians that fed him and gave him water. Leary of them because of what he had been through, he pushed on alone until he came upon two white-covered wagons, the Wilder and Kelley families. He told them what happened to his family. They waited a few days for Lorenzo to gain his strength and travel the ten days to get to Fort Yuma.
Lorenzo’s story doesn’t end at Fort Yuma and the story of his two captive sisters was also able to be told as well. After witnessing their family being brutally murdered, Olive and Mary Anne were taken through the desolate area by the Apaches without wearing any shoes. Eleven year old Mary Anne became weak and kept lacking behind. Her and Olive’s feet were cut and bruised and their clothes torn from the trauma they endured. As Mary Anne started to fall from weakness, one of the Indians picked her up and carried her across his back. After traveling over two hundred miles, they finally arrived to a valley with several huts where the Apache lived. The girls were greeted with loud screams, wild dancing and put in the center of a circle. They both prayed that death would take them away before any more painful acts would be bestowed upon their very frail bodies.
For many months the girls were treated harshly by their captors, who often didn’t bother feeding them sometimes for two days at a time. Mary Anne was growing weaker and became too ill to work at times. She and Olive would sing hymns and pray that God would take them away from all the suffering they had to endure. By March of 1852, the girls were traded to a band of Mojave, who took them back to their tribe in Colorado. Even the Mojave were having trouble with their crops leaving them in short supply of food. Mary Anne was so weak and wasting away that Olive knew her little sister was dying. Not long after while lying in her sister’s arms, Mary Anne passed away. Olive was allowed to bury her sister in a small grave that she kept nurtured.
Many years have gone by and Lorenzo had never given up on trying to find his sisters. With the aid of Mr. Henry Grinnell, who organized an expedition, he was able to keep up the rescue efforts. After wandering into Arizona and hearing Lorenzo’s story, he was compelled to help him search for the two sister that were taken captive so long ago.
Mr. Grinnell, with the help of Francisco, a Yuma Indian, he was able to purchase Olive from the Mojave. He met Olive for the first time in Colorado where she was sitting on the ground. Her hands covered her weathered painted face and she was wearing the clothes of the Mojave. As he asked her questions, she cried and never took her hands off her face. Several days after arriving at Fort Yuma she finally talked and saw her brother for the first time since the massacre. He took her to his home in Los Angeles, then they moved to Oregon and finally settled in New York.
In 1854, Mr. Poston found the bones of the Oatman Family, gathered them up and buried them in unmarked graves. Using a penknife and a board from his wagon, he carved the family’s name and date into it.
(The photos come courtesy of my friend Pam. She said the area had an eerie and creepy feel to it.)
~Julie~
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