bars, and bedrooms, reflecting common be- lief on such matters as the loss of freedom in marriage, sexuality in children, hostility among relatives, and the differences among coitus and love and diffuse, enduring soli- darity. Thus, granting the worth of describ- ing culture as a system of cognitive struc- tures or symbols and the necessity of con- structing ideal-type systems for this purpose, there remain certain issues of sampling by class of utterances, as well as by class of speaker, which cannot be begged without opening the door to any number of alterna- tive systems, which are equally elegant and equally valid and which differ either because they are based on a different sampling of types of people and types of statements or because a different initial frame was chosen or both. Does this study of American kin- ship equally well represent Wasps, Negroes, American Indians, Jews, Puerto Ricans, Poles, etc.? Does it represent young college students and their grandparents? Is Schneid- er’s model or my model correct, or are they both correct in one way or another for dif- ferent subgroups of the population and/or for different contexts of utterance? To what extent does his scheme base itself on reli- gious and legal definitions, on answers in personal genealogical interviews, on popular literature, on bull-sessions and worldly wis- dom? Do all American groups maintain this symbol system? And if not, which ones? How about the others? One cannot know, and no procedures are indicated in this work for finding out. Schneider insists that his model of the symbol system is universally valid for Americans (“at one level, that of the distinctive features, there is no variance,” p. 112). The introduction only advises that the author collected interviews from 53 mid- dle-class white families in Chicago with vari- ous religious affiliations and ethnic origins, has read a lot and lived in America himself for many years, and knows nothing that dis- agrees with his conclusions.

But perhaps some of these questions may find answers in the promised subsequent publications. Schneider has embarked on a major study of American kinship, and the fact that this early essay can bring into focus so many fundamental issues augurs well for the productiveness of the whole en- terprise.

106 American Anthropologist [71, 19691

Social Structure and Social Life of the Tlingit in Alaska. R. L. OLSON. Anthro- pological Records, 26. Berkeley & Los Anseles, University of California Press, 1967. x + 123 pp., bibliography. nap.

Reviewed by PETER STONE Chicago, Illinolis

In the preface of this monograph, Olson states that “the following materials were se- cured during a series of visits, each in the summer season, in the years 1933, 1934, 1949, and 1954” (p. v). The published re- sults of this extended fieldwork are aptly de- scribed by their author as materials, for they are just that. In large part this monograph consists of only slightly edited field notes on Tlingit culture history. “Except for the nec- essary changes to conform to fair English, most of the materials I offer are verbatim accounts and statements” (p. vi). These materials, however, are neither graced by an introduction nor a conclusion-nor are there any chapters as such.

OIson has employed unnumbered head- ings to subdivide his data into twelve major sections: “Tribes, Towns, and Households” (pp. 1-17), “Personal Quarrels” (pp. 17-19), “Marriage and Divorce” (pp. 19-23), “The Clans and Clan Legends” (pp. 23-37), “Clan Emblems and Other Clan Property” (pp. 37-47), “Caste, Rank, and Classes” (pp. 47-55), “The Ownership of Territory” (pp. 55-58), “Potlatches” (pp. 58-69), “Feuds, Raids, and Wars” (pp: 69- 82), “The History of the Tantakwan” (p. 82- 102), “Incidents in the History of the Klwak- kwan” (pp. 103-1 lo) , and “Religion, Sha- manism, and Totemism” (pp. 110-123). These twelve sections are sandwiched be- tween a brief three-page preface (pp. v-vii) and an even briefer bibliography.

The order that these sections create is not always readily apparent. For example, the first section, “Tribes, Towns, and House- holds,” is further divided into two subsec- tions: “The Tribes” (pp. 2-4), and “The Town and the Household” (pp. 5-17). These are certainly straightforward head- ings, but the materials found under them are a rather mixed lot. For some unexplained reason all of the clans and houses of the Sanyakwan (a southern tribe) are presented

(paper).

Book Reviews 107

in the subsection titled “The Tribes.” Al- though some thirteen other tribes are men- tioned in this subsection, none of their re- spective clans or houses are listed. In the following subsection, “The Town and the Household,” however, the clans and houses in the Chilkat tribal towns of Klukwan (pp. 7-9) and Chilkoot (p. 10) are presented along with those of the Tantakwan (pp. 10-11) and Aukkwan (p. 11) tribes. The clans and houses in the tribal town of Tuxe- kan are also presented. These materials, however, are not to be found in either of the two subsections of “Tribes, Towns, And Households.” Strangely enough, they appear in the eleventh major section, “Incidents in the History of the Klawakkwan,” under the subheading “Houses of the village of Takdjikan (Tuxekan)” (p. 110). Olson’s data on the tribes, clans, and houses were, no doubt, scattered throughout his field notes. That these and other materials have not been more carefully ordered in their publi- cation is unfortunate. Specialists already fa- miliar with the published literature on the Tlingit will most certainly find it well worth their time to sort through Olson’s collected data, for most of the material is unmatched in its attention to detail.

Olson briefly mentions that his “chief concern was a study of the structure and functioning of the complex social life” (p. v). This prefatory remark, however, is his only reference to the theoretical framework into which the vast bulk of his collected materials were ordered and synthesized. The absence of both an introduction and a con- clusion underscores the unfortunate fact that the greater part of Olson’s structural-func- tional theory remains embedded in his data. There is no apparent theoretical concern of any kind reflected in the topic headings of this monograph.

A partial explanation for this apparent absence of theory seems to be offered by Olson in the preface: “I was increasingly aware that no study of Tlingit society at this late date could ever be thorough or com- plete, and that I could best merely hope to supplement the earlier researches of Krause and Swanton” (p. vi). Olson is far from clear as to just what he means by a “thor- ough or complete” study of Tlingit society. It is obvious that he was not interested in

even an incomplete study of the living Tlin- git society that he observed for over two de- cades. Olson’s crying over the grave of Tlin- git culture sounds remarkabfy similar to some of the mournful prefatory remarks made over half a century ago by George T. Em- mons in The Whale House O f The Chilkat. “The old houses have disappeared, the old customs are forgotten, the old people are fast passing, and with the education of the children and the gradual loss of the native tongue, there will be nothing left to connect them with the past” (1916:3).

It would seem that part of the human condition is that the old people are forever fast passing. Olson has clearly demonstrated that, in so far as the Tlingit are concerned, the old people still manage to give a pretty fair account of their respective clan histories and traditions before they do pass on. And so it goes, the golden age for Olson is the sack of Klukwan for Emmons. Interestingly enough, the earlier golden age for Emmons was viewed through far sterner eyes when Krause had the good fortune to be in it: “It would be better if one could hope for the establishment of an organized govern- ment to end the present state of lawless- ness’’ (Krause 1956:49).

However blunt Krause’s plea for law and order may now seem, it is an undeniable fact that the Tlingit culture that he observed in the early 1880s was going through a pe- riod of rapid change, and at times this pro- cess was indeed quite violent. Olson’s oldest informants were born in this period of ano- mie. In spite of this they were able to re- count events that occurred well before the birth of their parents. These clan traditions, while not always thorough or complete, are amazingly detailed. As they now stand, they @re a significant supplement to the earlier re- searches of Krause and Swanton. Neither of these earlier writers, however, shared 01- son’s concern with the structure and func- tioning of Tlingit society. Unlike OIson, they never fully appreciated that “every Tlingit was a unit in an intricate web of relation- ships” (p. vi) that could be genealogically ex- pressed. Although the Tlingit culture of the 1880s was markedly different from the one in which Olson’s best informants were liv- ing, they were still in a very real sense genealogically linked with the past.

1013 American Anthropologist [71, 19691

So detailed was all this genealogical knowledge that J. B. was able to give me accurate information on many hundreds of persons, not only from her own clan and tribe but also from tribes as distant as the Stikine. The genealogical charts I constructed reached through twelve generations and meshed perfectly with data I obtained from other informants. It was said of the really high-caste people, especially those of Chilkat, that they would lie awake at night for long hours thinking on the great names and deeds of these “through whom they had come” (p. vi). These remarks by Olson not only attest to

his consummate patience and skill as a field- worker, but they also reflect the profound difference between his understanding of Tlingit social structure and that of Krause and Swanton. This is not to denigrate the earlier attempts of these important writers. Neither of them, however, seem to have ap- preciated the importance of genealogies as a valuable key to the study of both the social structure and culture history of the Tlingit. For this reason it is unfortunate that Olson did not find space to publish at least one of the Tlingit genealogies that spanned 12 gen- erations. To date, Durlach is the only writer who has published a Tlingit genealogy [ 1928). This neglected data was obtained from Louis Shotridge, who could only recall some nine generations of his Chilkat kins- men. The genealogical data that Olson col- lected from JB would have significantly sup- plemented the Shotridge genealogy, since they were from the two principal intermar- rying clans in the Chilkat town of Klukwan.

As they now stand, Olson’s materials are studded with cryptic references to “JB,” “GM,” “BB,” “DC,” “JK,” “LS,” etc. Some of these people, such as Mrs. John Benson of Klukwan (JB) and Swanton’s Sitka infor- mant, Don Cameron (DC), can be identi- fied. Others, such as “JK’ and “LS” are not identified. This shorthand is not without its problems. There are, for instance, two dif- ferent men who are both indicated by the initials “LS.” Although these two men come from different clans and moieties, this fact is not clearly established by Olson. Since these two men both married women from the Kiksadi clan in Sitka, this distinction is of no small importance. The first “LS” to be mentioned is described as belonging to the

Wolf moiety (p. 5 ) , and he therefore wrongfully “bargained to sell to a certain museum the fine house posts and other cere- monial items from Whale House at Kluk- wan which belonged to the Ganaxtedih clan of the Raven moiety” (p. 5 ) . This is clearly Louis Shotridge from the Kagwantan clan in Klukwan, who worked for the University Museum in Philadelphia. The second-men- tioned “LS” is described as belonging to the Kiksadi clan in Sitka, but no mention is made of his moiety. “A Tsimshian man, PS, married a Sitka Kiksadi woman and came to live in Sitka. Their son, LS, named Skau- wutlyetl (who of course is a Kiksadi), mar- ried a Kiksadi girl named Anwugik” (p. 20). Knowledgeable readers of this inces- tuous vignette will quickly realize that “Skauwutlyetl (who of course is a Kik- sadi),” is also a Raven and therefore a dif- ferent LS from the museum collector in Klukwan who belonged to the Wolf moiety. Olson, however, should have made this clear, for, in the space of just two pages, LS appears again. Unlike the Raven LS on page 20, the LS on page 22 is Shotridge, who “began flirting with a Kiksadi woman who was already married and had children” (p. 22). Even so LS (Shotridge) “finally fi- nanced her divorce and married her” [p. 22). If it was Olson’s desire to protect the ano- nymity of his informants, he has at times paid an exorbitant price in simple clarity to achieve this end. Louis Shotridge was repaid in full for selling clan property that was not his. The proceeds from this dubious business venture were not, however, used by him to finance incest with a clan sister.

Fortunately the overall quality of Olson’s materials are vastly superior to the identity crises cited above. His collected myths and early clan traditions are especially valuable. Not since Swanton has there been such a complete account of the Nexadi clan, so fre- quently mistaken by other writers as “the third Tlingit phratry” among the Sanya- kwan.

Throughout this monograph there are numerous typographical errors. In most cases these are easily recognized. Some of the misspelled proper names, however, are not always so readily apparent: “Gangu- kedih” = Cankukedih (pp. 22, 23, 72); “Glingit” = Tlingit (p. 33); “human hand

Book Reviews I09

house” = human head house (p. 53); “Shil- kat” = Chilkat (p. 80); “Ghe Ganaxtedih” = The Ganaxtedih (p. 82); “Saxhittan” = Xashittan (p. 88); “Banaxadi” = Ganaxadi (p. 96). Olson, in referring to “Olson (1936) for an account of Tlingit education” (p. 49) obviously means Olson (1956).

In spite of the apparent lack of editing, Olson’s materials are a significant contribu- tion to the growing body of ethnographic data, which should now more than ever jus- tify a study of the social structure and social life of the Tlingit in Alaska.

References Cited

DURLACH, THERESA M. 1928 The relationship system of the Tlingit,

Haida and Tsimshian. American Ethno- logical Society Publications, 11.

1916 The whale house of the Chilkat. An- thropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History 19 (1).

1956 The Tlingit Indians. Erna Gunther, trans. American Ethnological Society Pub- lications. Seattle: University of Washington Press.

1936 Some trading customs of the Chilkat Tlingit. In Essays in anthropology presented to A. L. Kroeber. Robert H. Lowie, ed. Berkeley: University of California Press.

1956 Channeling of character in Tlingit so- ciety. In Character and cultural milieu. Douglas G. Haring, ed. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press.

EMMONS, GEORGE T.

KRAUSE, AUREL

OLSON, RONALD L.

Cheyenne Memories. JOHN STANDS IN TIM- BER and MARGOT LIBERTY. With the as- sistance of Robert M. Utley. Yale West- ern Americana Series, 17. New Haven & London, Yale University Press, 1967. xv + 330, bibliography, 29 illustrations (1 foldout), genealogy of John Stands in Timber, index, 2 maps. $7.95, 59s 6d. (cloth) .

Howling Wolf: A Cheyenne Warrior’s Graphic Interpretation of His People. KAREN DANIELS PETERSEN. Introduction by John C. Ewers. Palo Alto, American West Publishing Company, 1968. 64 pp., footnotes, notes on the plates, 12 color plates. $14.00 (cloth).

Reviewed by E. ADAMSON HOEBEL University o f Minnesota

John Stands in Timber, a Northern Chey- enne, was a natural culture historian. As a boy, if the old people talked all day, he would be there. When he returned from school in 1905, a literate young man, he un- dertook to write down Cheyenne traditions, interviewing old Cheyennes, visiting old bat- tlefields, keeping steadily at it until his death in 1967. Through all this time, it was his in- tention, as “tribal historian,” to write a book about his people. His dream was realized when he found an able amanuensis in Mar- got Liberty.

Cheyenne Memories is in no sense a per- sonal autobiography. Rather, it is presented by Professor Liberty as “the tribe’s collec- tive memory of its past.” It really is not that, of course, for Stands in Timber has screened all the material through his own mind, and it has of necessity been screened again and edited by Mrs. Liberty as she transcribed her tapes and ordered the epi- sodes and accounts into a smooth-reading, chronological sequence.

The first third of the book covers Chey- enne myths, political organization (chiefs and military societies), tribal ceremonies, and medicine practices. The accounts are in- teresting, particularly as to what they reveal in matters of surviving interest to recent Cheyennes. Their main appeal, however, will be to the uninitiated in Plains ethnol- ogy. Nonetheless, new data of significance for Plains specialists will be found (pp. 75-78) in the description of an adjunct to the Sacred Medicine Hat, the nimhoyeh, or “Turner” (Deflector), which is used to turn away arrows, bullets, and sickness. This, evi- dently, provides the protective power asso- ciated with the Hat. There are also new sidelights on the suicide vow of conspicuous death in battle (pp. 61-63) and its critical and hitherto unreported role in Custer’s an- nihilation on the Little Big Horn (p. 193 ff) .

The second third of the volume covers a long series of skirmishes and battles with the Crows, Shoshones, and Whites: a fighting people’s account of their legendary feats- tempered with a charming candor. “My grandfathers and others use to tell me that hearing the women sing that way made