It started as a domestic dispute brought on by a rowdy Christmas party at a nearby American fort in 1869, according to Tlingit witnesses.
Eventually, it spiraled into the full-scale artillery bombardment of native villages around Wrangell, and resulted in the deaths of at least three (possibly more) Tlingit clansmen, a white business owner living near the fort, and a woman’s severed finger. The discrepancy in casualty stems from the tendency of Tlingit oral histories to employ tales like those of the Wrangell bombardment as moral lessons, according to Zachary Jones, in town this week to seek additional Tlingit accounts of the bombardment, as well as recount his anthology of Tlingit accounts of the bombardment. Jones’s work is funded in part by the National Park Service’s American Battlefield Preservation Program, which aims to record and preserve historic battlefields around the US. Taylor previously visited the community in 2012. His primary job is as an archivist and collections manager for SEALASKA.
Tempers have run high about blame for the incident. Soldiers’ accounts of the events largely portray the events as a forcible (and justified) installation of American law on the frontier, though even contemporary American observers were critical of US Army actions surrounding the event, Jones said.
The Tlingit accounts – Jones presented a recorded version of one oral history – largely focus on the embodiment of Tlingit ideals displayed by one member of a local clan in giving himself up to US forces in order to stop the bombardment, despite his adherence to traditional Tlingit law which demands compensation in the event of a wrongful death, according to Jones.
“History is not absolute,” he said. “I think that’s something to think very carefully about. This is a situation where— if you wanted to look at it on ethical grounds— the army was shelling a village in the winter filled with men, women and children. I personally don’t feel the army is legitimized in doing that.”
When a woman at the fort’s Christmas party intervened in a dispute brought on by overly aggressive behavior on the part of U.S. soldiers, her finger was injured. In retaliation, soldiers killed two Tlingit brothers, whose father, following Tlingit custom, exacted compensation by killing a member of the local community. In retaliation, the Army opened fire indiscriminately on the Tlingit communities ringing the harbor at the time. The bombardment went on for two days, until Tlingit representatives negotiated a cease-fire. They faced an ultimatum from the Army to surrender the father, or face a renewed bombardment.
During the cease-fire, the father surrendered to the Army to spare the other Tlingit from the onslaught.
The willingness to face down his destiny demonstrates a Tlingit concept of strength of mind, body and spirit, Jones said.
“’He danced to his death,’” he quoted the original account. “He is allowed to dance his final dance and sing his own memorial song, and then he marches up the scaffold on his own. He put the noose over his head, took it, and jumped off himself.”
The history of the event has driven passions ever since. A 1976 disclosure of the soldiers’ letters resulted in the republishing of a 1940 account related by William Tamaree, which comprised the majority of Jones’s account.
The American Battlefield Preservation Project aims to provide information to local communities about the possibility of preserving or commemorating battlefields on American soil.
The history isn’t always well-known, said Rudy Briskar, who attended a presentation about the bombardment.
“Until you really put it out there for people, they don’t really understand that hey, they were attacked by the US Military,” he said. “It’s kind of been swept under the rug. Everything’s kind of been ‘hush-hush, don’t talk about this.’”
Those with information wishing to contribute to the report should contact Jones via phone at (907) 586-9261 or e-mail at zachary.jones@sealaska.com.
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