After Coronado gave up on the Seven Cities of Whatever, he penned a missive to the King summarizing his experiences and discoveries. Ask yourself what tone and intent are suggested by his choice of words nearly six centuries later. 

The full letter, a classroom edit, and printable versions can be found here. 

HOLY CATHOLIC CAESARIAN MAJESTY: On April 20 of this year I wrote to Your Majesty from this province of Tiguex, in reply to a letter from Your Majesty dated in Madrid, June 11 a year ago. I gave a detailed account of this expedition, which the viceroy of New Spain ordered me to undertake in Your Majesty’s name…  

“Caesarian” here presumably means “like Caesar” rather than referring to the circumstances of his delivery at birth. Still, it does open up some humorous alternatives – “Your Royal Breechness,” “Divine Preemie-inence,” etc.

It’s also nice for those of us reading 500 years later that he essentially begins with “previously, on Coronado’s Journey…” I wonder if that was a formal norm or an acknowledgement that the King was a busy man and might have no idea who Coronado was or why he should remember him.

I described it all, and the sort of force I have, as Your Majesty had ordered me to relate in my letters; and stated that while I was engaged in the conquest and pacification of the natives of this province…

You know, because that’s what people do to kill time – conquer and pacify…

…some Indians who were natives of other provinces beyond these had told me that in their country there were much larger villages and better houses than those of the natives of this country, and that they had lords who ruled them, who were served with dishes of gold, and other very magnificent things; and although, as I wrote Your Majesty, I did not believe it before I had set eyes on it… {but it seemed} important that it should be investigated for Your Majesty’s service, I determined to go and see it with the men I have here…

Already this sounds like a desperate effort to cover his own behind, doesn’t it? “OK, so, here’s what happened and I totally didn’t believe them but then I was like, I totes owe it to the KING to check it out ANYWAY and so, like… no WAY this was my fault!”

After nine days’ march I reached some plains, so vast that I did not find their limit anywhere that I went, although I traveled over them for more than 300 leagues. And I found such a quantity of cows in these, of the kind that I wrote Your Majesty about, which they have in this country, that it is impossible to number them, for while I was journeying through these plains, until I returned to where I first found them, there was not a day that I lost sight of them. 

Tatanka!

And after seventeen days’ march I came to a settlement of Indians who are called Querechos, who travel around with these cows, who do not plant, and who eat the raw flesh and drink the blood of the cows they kill, and they tan the skins of the cows, with which all the people of this country dress themselves here. They have little field tents made of the hides of the cows, tanned and greased, very well made, in which they live while they travel around near the cows, moving with these. They have dogs which they load, which carry their tents and poles and belongings. These people have the best figures of any that I have seen in the Indies…

That’s about as succinct a description as you could ask of life on the Great Plains – flat as far as you can see, nomadic natives, living in tipis and utilizing just about every part of the buffalo they hunted. The use of dog travois was common on the Plains as well. 

The last part about their figures was not nearly so awkwardly suggestive as some of you wondered just now. These were different times, and Coronado is trying to be descriptive, and thorough. I kinda wonder if it also suggests a tendency to see the Querechos as interesting creatures in nature rather than real live individuals. 

I traveled five days more as the guides wished to lead me, until I reached some plains, with no more landmarks than as if we had been swallowed up in the sea, where they strayed about, because there was not a stone, nor a bit of rising ground, nor a tree, nor a shrub, nor anything to go by. There is much very fine pasture land, with good grass. 

And while we were lost in these plains, some horsemen who went off to hunt cows fell in with some Indians who also were out hunting, who are enemies of those that I had seen in the last settlement, and of another sort of people who are called Teyas; they have their bodies and faces all painted, are a large people like the others, of a very good build; they eat the raw flesh just like the Querechos, and live and travel round with the cows in the same way as these. I obtained from these an account of the country where the guides were taking me, which was not like what they had told me, because these made out that the houses there were not built of stones, with stories, as my guides had described it, but of straw and skins, and a small supply of corn there…

Texans with painted bodies and faces? Must have been on their way to a college football game. This was the first sign of trouble with their journey to “Quivira” which couldn’t be ignored to accommodate avarice.

It seemed to me best, in order to see if there was anything there of service to Your Majesty, to go forward with only 30 horsemen until I should be able to see the country, so as to give Your Majesty a true account of what was to be found in it… And with only the 30 horsemen whom I took for my escort, I traveled forty-two days after I left the force, living all this while solely on the flesh of the bulls and cows which we killed, at the cost of several of our horses… and going many days without water, and cooking the food with cow dung, because there is not any kind of wood in all these plains, away from the gullies and rivers, which are very few.

I love the subtle reminder that Coronado was not, of course, doing any of this for himself, but for the King. It also says something about the size of the group with which he normally traveled that going on with 30 guys was really stripping it down to a skeleton crew. 

And perhaps I’m reading too much into what is, after all, a modern translation of a centuries-old letter in another language, but I sense his frustration leaking through already – “there was not a stone, nor a bit of rising ground, nor a tree…” and “cooking… with cow dung, because THERE ARE NO #@$%ING TREES OR TWIGS OR PICTURES OF TREES SO $%&@ IT WE’LL JUST USE POO!! THAT’S RIGHT – WE’RE COOKING WITH POO!!”

It was the Lord’s pleasure that, after having journeyed across these deserts seventy-seven days, I arrived at the province they call Quivira, to which the guides were conducting me, and where they had described to me houses of stone, with many stories; and not only are they not of stone, but of straw, but the people in them are as barbarous as all those whom I have seen and passed before this; they do not have cloaks, nor cotton of which to make these, but use the skins of the cattle they kill, which they tan, because they are settled among these on a very large river…

The people here are large. I had several Indians measured, and found that they were 10 palms in height; the women are well proportioned and their features are more like Moorish women than Indians. The natives here gave me a piece of copper which a chief Indian wore hung around his neck; I sent it to the viceroy of New Spain, because I have not seen any other metal in these parts except this and some little copper bells which I sent him, and a bit of metal which looks like gold. I do not know where this came from…

His disappointment is palpable, but it’s not the full-blown disgust and frustration we’re going to see further down. The sad desperation of sending a lone copper necklace to the viceroy almost breaks my heart for Coronado. The years, the hope, and the depravations endured… for a copper necklace of unknown origin.

The province of Quivira is 950 leagues from Mexico. Where I reached it, it is in the fortieth degree. The country itself is the best I have ever seen for producing all the products of Spain, for besides the land itself being very fat and black and being very well watered by the rivulets and springs and rivers, I found prunes like those of Spain and nuts and very good sweet grapes and mulberries. 

“So, your Majesty, the trip was pretty much a bust in terms of riches and gold and such. But OMG if you could have seen the PRUNES! So, um… can you maybe, like, not be too mad about the gold? Because… prunes?”

Here’s my favorite part.

I have treated the natives of this province, and all the others whom I found wherever I went, as well as was possible, agreeably to what Your Majesty had commanded, and they have received no harm in any way from me or from those who went in my company…

“…as well as was possible…”

What a wonderfully cautious bit of self-justification. 

And what I am sure of is that there is not any gold nor any other metal in all that country, and the other things of which they had told me are nothing but little villages, and in many of these they do not plant anything and do not have any houses except of skins and sticks, and they wander around with the cows; so that the account they gave me was false, because they wanted to persuade me to go there with the whole force, believing that as the way was through such uninhabited deserts, and from the lack of water, they would get us where we and our horses would die of hunger…

I can’t help but see his pen jabbing at his paper, Coronado muttering to himself as he scribbles his frustration within the confines of acceptability to one’s sovereign… 

“One thing IS for SURE, however… There’s. No. $#%&ing. Gold. Or. Metal. Or. Any. Thing. Else. $%#*. !@*%&%. #%&*TW#@&%@#$!!@# In. This. #$&@Y$@. Land.”

It’s here we see the first written expression of perhaps the single greatest conflict between white guys and the red guys over the next four centuries.

“They don’t plant anything… and they wander around with the cows…”

To the average European, nature is there to be subdued. Reworked. Made into your b*tch. 

To the average Amerindian on the Great Plains, nature is there to be understood. Utilized. Perhaps a bit revered. 

They were not starry-eyed environmentalists as some would have them portrayed, but they certainly asked for different things out of life than the typical white guy. The first bewildered, annoyed record of this realization comes from the European perspective comes from Coronado, right here.

It didn’t bode well for future white-guy / red-guy relations.

RELATED POST: Coronado (Why Don’t You Come To Your Senses?)

RELATED POST: Turkin’ Back And Forth

I previously asserted that History is, by definition, a written record of the past. By that definition, the history of Oklahoma began in 1540 and Francisco Vásquez de Coronado was its first historian. 

He set out to find untold riches by following rumors of lavish cities inhabited by wondrous people. His exact route is debatable, but he seems to have started north from what is now Mexico and traveled into New Mexico and/or Arizona in search of these “Seven Cities of Cibola.” 

He got into a few scraps with the locals, but his journey was otherwise unexciting until he encountered a young man the Spanish quickly nicknamed “The Turk.”

The Turk, most likely a Wichita or Pawnee, assured Coronado that the real treasures were to be found in “Quivira,” far to the east. He offered to lead them there, and each time they encountered other tribes the Turk would communicate with them briefly before they, too, would eagerly insist that “Quivira” was totally the place to be and begin using signs and making other vigorous efforts at communication to indicate that the riches there were impressive indeed – in a no-sense-waiting-‘round-here-you-prolly-wanna-get-going kinda way. 

What follows is a fairly accurate transcription of my total guesswork as to what these conversations must have been like – never before published on a major education blog. 

Turk (to NewTribeGuys):  Hey, I guess you probably noticed the, um, conquistadors and hundreds of soldiers and thousands of ‘allies’ just behind me here…

NewTribeGuys (to Turk):  Why are you pointing? Are you trying to trick us into looking behind us? That’s completely lame. 

Turk (to NewTribeGuys):  I realize you don’t know me, but you’re gonna want to trust me on this. These guys are looking for Quivira, a city of gold and other untold riches and topless virgins and whatnot. Now, turn and point the same direction I am so it looks convincing. Maybe nod a bit and tell me with enthusiasm that we’re on the right track.

NewTribeGuys (to Turk):  The hell are you talking about? There’s no ‘city of gold’ or whatever in that direction, or any other for that matter. Why did you bring these people here?!

Turk (to Cornado):  He says we’re on the right track and honors the great Coronado on his amazing journey!

Turk (to NewTribeGuys):  Look, you see how many tense foreign-looking fellows are behind me? Think about them eating your food. Taking your goods. Forcing themselves on your women. It’s not pretty, brother – I’ve seen it. Several times, actually. Now either get all excited about how close we are to Quivira or go ahead and bring out your daughters and stew because they’re starting to get restless.

NewTribeGuys (look at Coronado and his men, back at Turk, at Coronado and his men, back at Turk, and murmur briefly to one another)

NewTribeGuys (loudly, to Turk, Coronado, the rest of their tribe, and most of the neighbors):  Ooohh, yes – Quivira! The one (gesturing dramatically) way over that way! Yes, yes – you’re very close! We thought you’d said you were looking for, um… Chi Berra, the famous atlatl maker. He, of course, is the other direction entirely. But not Quivira – nope, that crazy city and its golden virgins or whatever are ACTUALLY RATHER NEAR! (more gesturing) 

Turk (to Coronado): They say it’s this way.

This worked for a ridiculously long time, despite being a rather obvious ploy. Unfortunately, it relied heavily on the cooperation of strangers. Eventually, one of the tribes they encountered – the Teyas, an intriguing name later given to a future state whose name escapes me at the moment – started letting Coronado know that they had no idea what this Turk lad was talking about, and that he wasn’t even translating properly. 

Despite his suspicions, Coronado let “The Turk” lead him all the way to what is now Wichita, Kansas, where they found Quivira. That part, at least was true.

It was not a city of gold, however, so much as a village of farmers living in grass huts. They were alarmingly tall for Indians, and very close to naked most of the time. Untold riches, though? Not so much. 

Coronado spent several weeks hoping perhaps they were, somehow, close to some cities of gold if only he’d poke around a bit more, but finally reconciled himself to the truth – he’d been had. 

Coronado ordered that the Turk be garroted – the thing you see in action movies when they strangle someone with wire. To be fair, he had fibbed rather extensively and wasted months of their time, not to mention substantial resources. His sacrifice had not been in vain, at least – he’d led Coronado and crew far, far from his own people and their homes. 

Coronado took a different route back to Tiguex in what is now New Mexico, where he wrote a letter to the King of Spain, dated October 20, 1541. It’s arguably the first written record of Oklahoma, and rich in both tone and detail. As primary sources go, it’s golden.

Unlike, say… Quivira. 

Coronado went home frustrated and weakened after several armed conflicts and a serious fall from his horse along the way. He lost his fortune and much of his honor and died in 1554 – which I get is a total downer. 

But while he’d hardly draw much comfort from it, he was the first Oklahoma Historian and a generally fine observer and record-keeper of much of the geography, the people, the wildlife, and the tribulations of the American Southwest in the 16th century. 

There’s no record whether he ever got back that nifty copper necklace.

RELATED POST: Coronado (Why Don’t You Come To Your Senses)

RELATED POST: Coronado’s Letter (“What I AM Sure Of Is This…”)

History, by definition, is written down. This is not an knock against archeology, anthropology, oral histories, or any other efforts to unravel the past – it’s just a definition. 

Consequently, prior to European exploration, everything we know about what is now Oklahoma is technically “pre-history.” This is important because I’m about to insist that the History of Oklahoma began in 1540 with the arrival of a conquistador by the name of Francisco Vásquez de Coronado, and I don’t want to sound, you know – Eurocentric or dismissive of pre-literate peoples or anything. I like to think of myself as quite culturally sensitive and stuff.   

There are other places we could begin, of course. Unlike with people, the “birth” of Oklahoma is not an objectively established event. We could place its beginnings way back with the earliest fossil records, although that leaves us with a rather broad range of possible dates – as in, “the earliest Oklahomans settled the land sometime between 50,000 and 100,000,000 years ago…”

So, that’s unfulfilling.

Indian Removal (1830s) is arguably the beginning of Oklahoma as we now know it, despite the massive changes which followed only a generation later. That’s not where we begin in class, but it’s where we slow down enough to start paying attention. 

The first Land Run (1889) is certainly one of the more colorful events in our collective past, and far less depressing than most – at least if you don’t look too closely. This is when the first ‘Oklahoma’ lands were legally opened to white settlement, so claiming it as our “day of birth” has a certain logic to it. Then again, that would mean coming to peace with the suggestion it’s not really history until white people show up.

Which I can’t. 

Statehood (1907) would be an obvious choice, I suppose – but again with the white guys. Economically one might argue that for all intents and purposes Oklahoma truly began with the oil boom, another “date range” event –  although surely we could agree the Glenn Pool (1905) was the catalyst for all the rest. But the 20th century? Really? That would make us babies, historically speaking.

So I choose to be literal and insist that the History of Oklahoma began in 1540 with the arrival of a conquistador by the name of Francisco Vásquez de Coronado. He led an expedition which wandered through part of what is now far-western Oklahoma. Significantly, for our purposes, he and some of those with him left written records of their thoughts and experiences as they traveled – the first recorded “history” of the area.

The Spanish may have been the first to write about this little section of the universe, but they were hardly the first to encounter it. Various Amerindians had lived in or traveled across the Great Plains for centuries – maybe millennia. There were hundreds of different tribal identifications, and a far greater variety of cultures than we usually acknowledge. It’s really quite fascinating, if you’re into that sort of thing.

And they all came from somewhere else.

Based on the evidence we have now, mankind – such as it is – started far away from here. If the Lord created Adam and Eve and placed them in a tangible Garden of Eden, He did so WAY across the world – probably in Iran or thereabouts. If man evolved from single-celled protozoa, into a fish, then a goat, then a monkey, etcetera, he did so WAY across the world – most likely the Middle East and/or Northern Africa. 

There was spawning and diffusion, like there always is, and at some point a bunch of them walked across the Bering Strait (the ancient land bridge between Russia and Alaska) and spread across the Western Hemisphere. It would have taken a while. There may have been multiple cultures arriving over time, or they may have diversified over the centuries once here. In any case, the Amerindian tribes covering this half of the world before the Europeans showed up were quite a diverse bunch.

Again – good stuff if you’re into that sort of thing and wish to study it further. People do. 

One of the big questions among American historians is just how many Amerindians were here before Columbus showed up and brought all of Europe as his ‘plus one.’ War and disease and such killed, well… a bunch of the native population, but whether that means a quarter, a third, or ninety-nine percent is in serious dispute. 

The answer matters, and not merely for statistical precision – historians are still trying to figure out if the arrival of white guys simply sped the decline of cultures who’d have eventually evolved or vanished anyway, or whether 1492 marked the onset of not-entirely-unintentional genocide. It’s an ethical question as much as a historical, political, or social issue.  

Not that Coronado was wrestling with such abstractions in 1540. 

It had been less than a half-century since Columbus sailed the ocean blue and stumbled across this little roadblock to India. The British seemed in no hurry to settle the new continent – Jamestown was established in 1607, Plymouth in 1620, and the Puritans started arriving around 1630. Spain, however, wasted little time making their presence felt across Central America and Southwestern North America. 

In 1520, Hernán Cortés led the overthrow of the Aztec Empire in what is now Mexico. By 1532, Francisco Pizarro helped bring about the destruction of the Incas in Peru. In both cases, Spanish conquistadors had discovered complex civilizations and unmeasurable wealth. In both cases, the reality of their experiences dramatically exceeded rumors or expectations. 

It was thus not particularly ridiculous for Coronado to go looking for untold riches or follow rumors of lavish cities inhabited by wondrous people. He set out in February of 1540 to do just that.

Conquistadors didn’t like to do anything on a modest scale, so Coronado took along 400 armed men and over a thousand Mexican-Indian “allies”. That many people meant livestock, food wagons, and innumerable other supplies in tow, making for quite the logistical monstrosity. 

His exact route is debatable, but he seems to have started north from what is now Mexico and traveled into New Mexico and/or Arizona in search of the “Seven Cities of Cibola.” He got into a few scraps with the locals, but his journey was otherwise unexciting until he encountered a young man the Spanish quickly nicknamed “The Turk.” 

RELATED POST: Turkin’ Back and Forth

RELATED POST: Coronado’s Letter (“What I AM Sure Of Is This…”)