C. G. WALLACE

"You Can't Beat Something With Nothing"

C. G. Wallace parlayed Will Rogers' philosophy with his love for Indians into one of the West's most rewarding adventures.

For Arizona Highways Magazine by Mike Tharp Staff Writer with The Wall Street Journal "You can't beat something with nothing." Will Rogers' words are carved on a wooden plaque hanging above the desk of C. G. Wallace in the den of his Spanish-style home here.

The words represent a philosophy of success for one of the last and most famous traders of the Old West. For half a century, Mr. Wallace lived and worked among the Indians on the Zuni reservation in northwestern New Mexico. During a colorful career that began in 1918, he established a rapport with the Zuni and Navajo achieved by few other white men. In the process, he stimulated the development of Southwestern arts and crafts, compiled one of the world's best collections of Indian works and amassed a personal fortune.

His contributions have been recognized by Indians and white men alike. "He didn't take it all out without putting a lot back in," says one Indian expert. Echoes Glenn Emmons, former U.S. commissioner of Indian Affairs during the Eisenhower administration: "C. G. is more responsible than anyone else that Zuni handicrafts today are as fine as they are."

An intensely private man, Mr. Wallace has repeatedly refused to allow publicity about his accomplishments. But the 76-year-old North Carolina native now realizes that his treasure trove of knowledge should become part of the rich heritage of Western lore. In unfolding the tapestry of his experience, he reverses the tradition of the Indian weaver who steadfastly refuses to look back on her rug until the last thread is pulled tight and cut. Says Mr. Wallace: "One of my old Indian friends stopped in to see me a few weeks ago. He told me that, like his, my road is getting shorter and shorter."

He is also motivated by the desire to find a fitting forum for his magnificent collection of Indian handicrafts. The collection is currently being catalogued and thus unable to be viewed by the public. "There are things in there you couldn't find anywhere else today at all," says Nancy Fox, curator of collections at the Museum of New Mexico's Anthropology Lab in Santa Fe. Adds Clay Lockett, a long-time dealer in Indian arts and crafts and now an appraiser for shops and museums: "It's fabulous, fantastic whatever you want to say about it. For Zuni and Navajo jewelry, there's nothing in the world that comes close."

Mr. Wallace hopes to keep the entire collection together and in the Southwest. "I could have disposed of this many years ago if I'd wanted to split it up and sell it in sections," he says. "But I'm interested in seeing it placed in New Mexico or Arizona since I've always considered it native to the two states and a product of the most artistic Indians in America."

The story of C. G. Wallace could best be told in a book, but highlighting some of the events of his life reveals how he has parlayed Will Rogers' pithy advice into the stuff of which legends are made.

He was born in Richmond County, North Carolina, in 1898, went through the fifth grade in a local school and worked at a series of jobs getting a grubstake together. His enchantment with things Indian began as a child near a mineral spring in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. He recalls walking near the spring after a summer rain, picking up pieces of flint arrowheads and pottery shards washed downstream by the water.

From conversation and correspondence with friends and anthropologists interested in Native American culture, he became even more fascinated with Indians. After visiting the Smithsonian Institution's collection and rejecting a chance to trade furs in Alaska, he decided to visit a friend in Gallup in 1918.

One of his fondest memories is his first impression of the Zuni reservation that was to become his home. "I topped a hill overlooking the valley where the Zuni village lay," he remembers. "It was just at sunset, there was no breeze and the smoke from all the bake-ovens was going straight up. The sun was setting on the terraced adobe village and it was very quiet. I can just shut my eyes and see it now."

He got a job in an Indian trading post owned by Louis Ilfeld, and after working for him for a few years, Mr. Wallace bought the post in the village of Zuni. "From the very beginning," he says, "I was interested in their artistic ability, their ways of worship and how they combined religion and pleasure together in their daily lives."

One of his first endeavors was to become "totally acquainted" with the entire village of some 1,600 persons (with about 15 beds and a dozen eating tables among them). He spent "many nights each week" after the store closed visiting the Indians in their homes and seeking to build their trust in him.

"When I came to Zuni, they gambled, they played and they didn't do much work at all. I made up my mind that I'd have every man, woman and child working and by the time I left just about all of them were," he says. (Mr. Lockett, the veteran dealer, says Mr. Wallace "almost single-handedly took the Zuni tribe from poverty to where they were doing very well.") He also learned to speak Zuni, Navajo and "sheepherder Spanish otherwise I'd have been talking to myself," he says with a smile. (He still speaks Zuni in conversations, and his son Ken, vice president of finance for a Phoenix based motor hotel company, says he can tell when his father is thinking in Zuni "because he has trouble with his syntax." Mr. Wallace's wife, Elizabeth, recalls driving through Terra Haute, Ind., with her husband when he suddenly started chanting, "'Tik-wa! Tik-wa! Tik-wa!' I didn't know Zuni then, but after I finished going through the red light, I learned he was saying 'Stop' ")After he began to converse with the Indians, Mr. Wallace discovered "that they seemed to have a sixth sense." He says the Zuni are able to tell intuitively whether a person "has heart."

While he ran the trading post on the reservation, Mr. Wallace was constantly on the lookout for discarded antiques ladles, stone axes, pottery, dresses woven by the squaws. He bartered with the families for these relics and in turn sold them to museums and collectors in the U.S. and Europe.

By 1919, he became well-acquainted with the five smiths in the village who were doing some silver work, primarily for their own people, and some for the Navajo. Mr. Wallace soon began obtaining turquoise from a shop in Denver and the mines in Lone Mountain, Nevada, Villa Grove, Colorado, from some copper mines in Arizona and from his own Last Chance Mine near Douglas, Arizona. "It was known from the beginning by all miners that the place to sell all their big turquoise was C. G. Wallace's," he says.

As the Great Depression worsened, Mr. Wallace provided jobs for many of the families on the reservation. "Just to survive," they made such tourist items as lampshades, good-luck charms from rabbits' feet and beadwork trinkets. All this time, however, Mr. Wallace was encouraging the local smiths to work jewelry and inlay it with turquoise. "Zuni inlay really took over," he says, "and eventually I had about 300 Zuni and Navajo smiths about half and half working for me. Some lived up to 50 miles away, but I never tied them in to working for me alone they're individuals out there."

Initially, the best outlet for beads and jewelry was the Navajo reservation and other traders. Mr. Wallace soon expanded that to shops, museums and customers throughout the country. "If we didn't sell it, it was all over," he recalls, "It was up to me to sell merchandise to keep the store open. At times, I wrote up to 50 letters a week to market the stuff."

The system of pawn "amounted to very little" in Zuni, he says, "because all the worthwhile Zuni had open credit. I trusted them. There was never any Indian who walked into my store and wanted money and didn't get it."

In a landmark event in 1927, Mr. Wallace encouraged the first woman to make silver jewelry at Zuni, Della Casa-Appa. "She and her husband lived near the store," he says. "She used to bring me her work in her apron at night" because she was afraid other women would resent her efforts. "Then it caught on just like a brush fire," he says, to the extent that today about three-fourths of Zuni jewelry is now made by women in the pueblo.

"I never ceased to impress on them that they should stay with tradition and do unique pieces," he says. "I didn't want their work to become too common. Individuality and authenticity are what made Indian jewelry valuable."

One way he urged the Indians to stay with their roots was by collecting more than 600 pots from which the smiths and lapidarists took ancient designs and patterns. "There's no piece that they ever made that I'm ashamed of," he notes with pride. "That was my every thought to express themselves and their abilities in an artistic way." (Mrs. Wallace remembers that their oldest son, Wayne, who runs the family ranch in Arizona, carried an Arizona pot back to his father from a camping trip. The Wallaces still have the pot on the mantle over the fireplace.) In addition, he also improved the handling and quality of the reservation's livestock. He paid shepherds one cent a pound more for each pound of wool they would grade and tie into bundles. But his attempt to help the Zuni expand their farming operations "was a complete failure," he admits. "They just wanted to be patch farmers" working for subsistence, rather than a cash crop.

While compiling his collection of more than 2,500 items, Mr. Wallace used the same standards of individuality and irrepeatability that he encouraged in the artists who made them. "Once a piece went into my collection, I never sold it," he says.

Besides a professional business relationship with the Zuni and Navajo, Mr. Wallace participated in other phases of their life. One of their games of chance consisted of a 26-mile race in which they ran while kicking a stick ahead of them. He would frequently run in part of these races, four miles to the sacred mountain on the reservation and four miles back. He remembers accompanying one old war chief who climbed to the top of that mountain along a rugged cliff-face. "I had a cold when I went up there," Mr. Wallace recalls, "but the clean cold air on top cleared it right up." And although he is reluctant to violate any trust by discussing his role, other observers believe that he sometimes participated in sacred religious rituals in the kivas of the pueblo.

Combining the horse sense of a born trader with a burgeoning demand for Indian arts and crafts, Mr. Wallace began to expand his business operations. At one point in his career, he owned two trading posts in Arizona, two stores in New Mexico, a shopping center and motel, and ranches in both New Mexico and Arizona.

When his wife (whom he had met when she was teaching school in Gallup in 1930) became ill a dozen years ago, he began selling off some of his interests to be with her. Ultimately,

Her illness was the major consideration that led him to his decision to leave Zuni. "It's the hardest thing I ever had to do," he says. "I've only been back once since I left, to visit my brother (who also owns a trading post there) when he was ill. I came in at night and left at night. I didn't want to go back. I'd rather remember it the way it was."

Today, at 76 ("I'm really twice that old because I've had a lot of 18-hour days," he grins), he spends most of his time between his motel and with his wife in their comfortable home here. Although infirm, Mrs. Wallace retains the grace, gentility and ironic wit characteristic of her Southern upbringing in Mobile, Alabama. She owns an impressive stable of thoroughbred race horses on a ranch south of Albuquerque, and has won numerous first-place trophies, plates, blankets, and state awards with her horses.

Despite his age, Mr. Wallace continues to work as if he were running four miles to the sacred mountain. His face is as lined and weathered as some of the old Indians whose portraits decorate the walls of the motel. But his reminiscences and reflections now remain as incisive as when he handed out ideas, turquoise and silver to Zuni and Navajo smiths when the nearest town was 40 miles away.

"I have no conception of why I did what I did maybe my number just never came up," he says, fingering a handsome turquoise tie clip. "I've been trying to figure that out. I darn near froze to death several times my ears, feet and fingers and I still can't figure it out. One reason might be the people I dealt with. I miss the old people I knew out there," he says. "The Zuni, the Hopi, the Navajo are some of the best people of any kind I ever met."

He has also kept the sense of humor that once prompted him, garbed in a white 10-gallon hat and long leather coat, to roll a Bull Durham cigarette with his boots on the linen tablecloth of a posh New Orleans restaurant. Gesturing at the walls of his office in the motel, he says, "I've been in business for myself for nearly 60 years and this is the first private office that I've ever had and it's about as private as a streaker."

Concerning the current state of the art of silversmithing, Mr. Wallace says, "There are only a few keeping the quality way up, and they're the ones making big money. There's such a demand for Indian jewelry that anything can be sold." He estimates that since the 1920s, prices have soared 10 or 12 times over what he originally sold his pieces for.

Besides the health of his wife, Mr. Wallace is concerned that his collection be relocated in a suitable setting. But some of his friends believe that his love for it won't let him part with it. "It's like a child to him," a close associate says.

One recent morning while showing a visitor his array of Indian art objects, Mr. Wallace cradled a bird fetish necklace sculpted by his favorite craftsman, Leekya. "He could see through a stone," he said softly. "For the first time in my life I wish I could see into the future. I used to not give a hoot about it, but I wish now I knew what the next few months or year will bring. I do. I really, really do."

IJ-73 Superb design and meticulous smithing in gold and turquoise have gone into this necklace and earring set by Francis and Della James. From Tanner's Indian Arts, Scottsdale, Arizona IJ-74, IJ-75, IJ-76: Lee A. Yazzie's lapidary artistry and skill won the Grand Prize at the 1974 Gallup Ceremonials. The silver body was designed and cast by Preston Monongye. Tanner's Indian Arts, Scottsdale, Arizona

More Classics From Hopi Masters

Right: Shalako bola by Preston Monongye. Don and Nita Hoel Collection, Sedona, Arizona. PETER BLOOMER Apparel and Jewelry Saks Fifth Avenue, Phoenix Photography by Paul Markow Silver overlay by Glenn Lucas. Don and Nita Hoel Collection, Sedona, Arizona. - PETER BLOOMER CHANNEL WORK: Stone set in silver compartments (see pages 22 and 23). The polishing is usually done after setting. The Mickey Mouse ensemble, by Zuni Veronica Natacio, shows the most refined technique of inlay into channel, with each piece being shaped and polished before setting. The Jewel Box Vault Collection, Phoenix, Arizona.

PURE INLAY: Stone into wood and wood into wood. Pure Inlay at its best is shown in Elliot Qualo's six piece masterpiece, below.

SINGER MOSAIC: Random cuts of stone set in epoxy was originated by Tommy Singer and generally copied by family enterprises of the same name. R. W. Mullen Collection, Scottsdale, Arizona.

PURE MOSAIC: See bola tie by Lee A. Yazzie, page 32.

Right: Channel work and inlay classics from the C. G. Wallace Collection.

Abroad in the world, people know the sophistication of the Southwestern tribes through knowing the products of their arts. Sophistication, old, deep, and yet ever young, is revealed in the pottery work, the painting, the basket work, the silverwork and weav-ing. Again, profound sophistication, as in the stately and gracious art, calm, but with passion - the passion of worlds and ages moving through it, of the Sha-lako ceremony at Zuñi pueblo, the Red Deer Dance at Taos. But it is in the brooding meetings of tribal councils, in long conversations with old and young leaders of the tribes, and in the intimacy of the spa-cious home life of Pueblo and of Navajo hogan, that one experiences that sophistication of every day which makes him know: these people and their ways are not near their end, they are nothing frail. The sophistica-tion of ancient China, of the Socratic circle or the Acadame, of Father Zossima in The Brothers Kara-mazov. Here is greatness, holding its own.

from: On The Gleaming Way

COLOR CLASSICS 35mm COLOR SLIDES

THIS ISSUE 35mm slides in 2" mounts, 1 to 15 slides, 40¢ each, 16 to 49 slides, 35 each, 50 or more, 3 for $1.00. Allow three weeks for delivery. Address: ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, 2039 West Lewis Avenue, Phoenix, Arizona 85009.

Special Editor's Notice:

This special edition is the fifth and last of the ARIZONA HIGHWAYS Magazine 1974 Collector's series. In reviewing the long list of friends, consultants and sources of information and materials we wish to make a special acknowledgement to Jerold Collins, director of the Gila River Indian Arts and Crafts Center, Sacaton, Arizona. Jerry is one of the most knowledgeable men we know in the cultural and business ends of the Indian arts and crafts field. We are also grateful to Forrest Fenn, John Foutz, Pat and Ross Rhoton and the people at W. S. Dutton's RARE THINGS, Santa Fe, N.M. who gave of their time and knowledge knowing their wares would not be part of our illustrated presentation.

Due to travel commitments for the month of August, we have assigned publication and production responsibilities for the September, 1974 edition to Tom Cooper, who teaches magazine journalism at the University of Arizona at Tucson. Tom has worked with our magazine during vacation periods in the past and this year he came to us with what we think is one of the most exciting and different themes we have ever presented. He has personally selected each photograph and illustration, and has been given full editorial liberty and responsibility. We are very grateful to Tom for relieving us of the pressures and tensions related to publishing dead lines. We congratulate him for an outstanding achievement and hope you join us with your letters.

Sincerely Yours NEW LIFE FOR OLD SHOW

I would like to take this opportunity to compliment you on your Collectors' Series. Arizona Highways has done an excellent job of bringing to the vast majority of the public the beauty of our native American craftsmen.

It is organizations and people like yourselves, who see the necessity for this awareness and have the talent and machinery to meet this need, that has brought the Arts and Crafts Industry to the pinnacle of today's success. With your success you have brought a greater understanding and appreciation of our native American crafts and craftsmen. As the new Director of the Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial, I applaud this achievement by your magazine to upgrade the awareness of the general public.

It is only through the education of the public to quality products that the Crafts field can progress and move forward.

Once again Congratulations on an excellent series.

Sincerely, Bill Ganong Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association Gallup, New Mexico An Official Agency of the State of New Mexico

SON OF A GREAT FATHER

Recently a Mr. Tom Cooper of your staff asked to borrow a painting by Nelson Begay for reproduction in a forthcoming issue. Nelson is receiving a credit line and payment for permission to reproduce it. Mr. Cooper also said that we would receive some sort of credit line as well. While I appreciate the gesture, I would request that such printed acknowledgement NOT be given our store.

It is my feeling that since Arizona Highways is a non-profit magazine designed to promote tourism in Arizona, any store or individual connected with a touristcentered enterprise, should be more than happy to assist the magazine in this manner without expecting or being given credit lines as reward. Increased tourism and more knowledgeable tourists are our reward, and that, I feel, is reward enough.

If we can ever be of assistance to you in providing items or information for articles, please feel free to contact us. Thank you.

Mark Bahti Tucson, Arizona

Welfare of Indians through self help programs. He was a friend to the people of the Southwest especially its Indians. Tom Bahti is the author of Southwestern Indian Tribes and Southwestern Indian Ceremonials. Tom Bahti has a special niche in the Grand Hall of Fame of the Southwest.

Our second reason for printing Mark Bahti's letter is to extend his attitude regarding the relation of Arizona Highways Magazine to the state of Arizona and the promotion of tourism and resultant benefits.

Mark himself is reason number three. In addition to being a successful operator of the Bahti Gallery Shop, 1708 East Speedway, Tucson, the young man in his early twenties, is establishing an enviable reputation for being an exemplary citizen, an astute merchant and a master silversmith.

THE PROFESSOR IS APPALLED

In an issue explicitly dedicated to Navajo weavers and their magnificent creations, it is unfortunate indeed that Arizona Highways did not see fit to carefully establish the proper pronunciations (and later the proper transcriptions) of the names of Indian weavers. (Such an oversight betrays a lack of regard for the high degree of individual expression that infuses Navajo weaving and suggests that, as far as Arizona Highways is concerned, the products of an artistic tradition are to be more highly valued than the persons who maintain that tradition and give it fresh direction.

It is equally unfortunate (in fact, I find it slightly appalling) that a publication which has been concerned with Southwestern Indians for over a quarter of a century should observe in an Editorial Note: "That's the way it is with Indian languages . designed for communication, not for grammatical comparison." This betrays nothing but ignorance, for it has been clearly established by professional linguists that Indian languages are every bit as grammatical and in many cases, more complexly so as English. By implying otherwise, Arizona Highways perpetuates the thoroughly erroneous notion that Indian languages are more "primitive" or "impoverished" than their "civilized counterparts." Obviously, such nonsense is blatantly incompatible with an editorial policy that seeks to increase cross-cultural understanding by disseminating accurate information about Arizona's Indian population.

How would Picasso (or is it Pistachio . . . or Picacho . . . or . . . Oh, what the heck!) have felt if similar things had been said about his native Spanish?