An Anthropologist's Arrival: A Memoir

Coming of Age in Arizona

148 Coming of Age in Arizona for me, the summer of 1931 was the coming of age in a new life. How long it was since I had looked into the future with joy and confidence! The surprise of it was almost heartbreaking, and more so since I had expected nothing. I knew that assignments for work were to be given out, but I expected nothing. I knew that money was scarce in that year of the Depression. The grants would go to established scholars like Mead. My heart did thump a little when Gladys told me that Ralph Linton was taking a group of first-year graduates to the Comanche and suggested that I apply.* I did, and the answer was no. Three of the boys in the class were to go. I was used to being the left-out female. “Papa Franz wants to know if you’re going with Linton,” Gladys shouted. “Of course not.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” That was because I was not used to telling anyone my disappointments . I was planning to earn a little money during the summer and perhaps take some courses. “Well, you’ve lost some time in waiting,” Gladys scolded. “Go see Papa Franz right now.” I felt a stirring all through me like that of water as it is just coming to boil, the tiny bubbles along the rim of the pan, scarcely recognizable. The small movement at the bottom * Ralph Linton (1893–1953), like Underhill and Reichard, was of Quaker roots and grew into a well respected though at times controversial archaeologist and ethnographer . During the 1930s he was associated with the training expeditions of the Laboratory of Anthropology in Oklahoma with the Comanche Indians. Linton held positions at the Field Museum in Chicago, University of Wisconsin at Madison, Columbia University (he was appointed to Boas’s post upon his retirement), and, finally, Yale University. See: Gillin, John. 1954. Ralph Linton, 1893–1953. American Anthropologist 56(2):274–280. Coming of Age in Arizona 149 of the pan. Is it? Will it continue? I know nothing more moving than that delicate beginning of upheaval, prophetic of so much strength. I saw Papa Franz. He sent me to Dr. Benedict. I was told that only $500 was available for a beginner like me.* It would not take me across the world, to any of the darling problems we had all dreamed of. * Underhill’s dissertation fieldwork would also be financed by small annual contributions from her father and fellowships from the Columbia Humanities Council. Griffen, Joyce. 1989. Ruth Murray Underhill. In Women Anthropologists: Selected Biographies. U. Gacs, A. Khan, J. McIntyre, and R. Weinberg, eds. Pp. 355–360. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Pg. 357. Figure 20. Ruth, likely during her graduate school days, circa 1935. Becoming an anthroPologist 150 “But,” said Ruth, with her quiet look of a seer, “there is one Indian tribe which has had no recent study. The Papago, a quiet agricultural group.” Seeing my stunned expression, she added, “Oh! You would find them too uninteresting?” “No, no, no!” The scarcely recognizable bubbles were seething within me. I had never heard of the Papago, or Tohono O’odham, as they’re now called. I did not know where they were, but this meant my first touch of anthropological tools. I would glimpse some live human beings from this new point of view that had nothing to do with reform. “There is a party going?” “No. Dr. Boas thinks you might go alone.” I? Alone? My bubbles were hissing, snapping, boiling over. I could not make out the sense of Ruth’s words. “Could you manage on that amount?” “What amount?” “Five hundred dollars.” In these days when even undergraduates get grants of several thousands, that statement sounds comic, but this was the Depression and, to me, $500 seemed like a chime of bells, a shower of gold.* “Of course. Where, where are the Papago?” “In southern Arizona. A small tribe. In a very hot country.” • I really had no experience with, no exposure to Indians. In my youth Mother used to read us “Hiawatha,” which I liked only because of the story’s rhythm.† I knew that Buffalo Bill with his Indians performed at Madison Square Garden. Also, the Quakers were always interested in Indians. I remember once, when I was twelve or so, sitting in the business meeting and hearing the...