TOP 10 GREATEST INDIAN CHIEFS

California Indian Education's tribal resource is being compiled to introduce young Native American Indian students to a few of their nations' most famous Indian chiefs of North America, brave tribal leaders and warriors who have left their mark on the recorded history of our great lands — please do your own research to learn more in-depth facts, tribal biographies and their most noteworthy quotes about these famous Native American Indians.
The California Indian Education website's "Top Ten" Indian chiefs is not so much about listing the top 10 chiefs of all time (which will forever be debatable), but our Indian guide is about beginning a study resource to familiarize students with some of the most important and influential Native American leaders of the recorded history.

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS LEADERS WARRIORS QUOTATIONS SPEECHE


Geronimo famouGeronimo famous quote:
“I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to prove worthy of the trust."
"Late one afternoon when returning from town we were met by a few women and children who told us that Mexican troops from some other town had attacked our camp, killed all the warriors of the guard, captured all our ponies, secured our arms, destroyed our supplies, and killed many of our women and children… when all were counted, I found that my aged mother, my young wife, and my three small children were among the slain.”
Excerpt from the biography "Geronimo: His own Story".s quote:
“I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to prove worthy of the trust."
"Late one afternoon when returning from town we were met by a few women and children who told us that Mexican troops from some other town had attacked our camp, killed all the warriors of the guard, captured all our ponies, secured our arms, destroyed our supplies, and killed many of our women and children… when all were counted, I found that my aged mother, my young wife, and my three small children were among the slain.”

Excerpt from the biography "Geronimo: His own Story".

  CHIEF JOSEPH, Nez Perce:

In his final years, Chief Joseph spoke eloquently against the injustices of U.S. Government policies and racial discrimination against Indigenous peoples and he held out hope that America's promise of freedom and equality would one day be fulfilled for Native Americans as well.

Equal rights for American Indian peoples was a pretty big dream for our Native ancestors at the turn of the 20th century (late 1800s) when we stop to consider that most Indians were not even allowed to become U.S. citizens until Indian Citizenship Act of 1924 was made into law.

Chief Joseph's famous quotation:

“...Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever."

Excerpted from Chief Joseph's surrender speech

October 5, 1877

- Submitted by Ernie Salgado Jr., Ahmium Education, Inc.

President of Mexico (Served 5 terms) Benito Juarez, Zapoteca 1806-1872

President Benito Juarez famous quote 1800s: "Between individuals, as between nations, peace means respect for the rights of others." Aboriginal North American Indians are proud of their indigenous "full-blood" leader who served five terms as the President of Mexico. President Benito Juarez was born in San Pablo Guelatao, Oaxaca, Mexico, 1806. He studied law at the Instituto de Ciencias y Artes and was a strong defender of Mexico's indigenous peoples. He also served as the governor of Oaxaca during his distinguished political career. MEXICAN-AMERICAN WAR 1846-1848 As a federal representative of Mexico, Benito Juarez was instrumental in approving Mexican financing of the 1846 Mexican-American War that ended in 1848 with The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. This is the treaty that among other things established the current US-Mexico border. Submitted by Juan Mendez, Zapoteca, professional Native American firefighter.

MESA GRANDE INDIAN RESERVATION, circa 1906 — Cinon Duro Mataweer is a famous spiritual leader (kuseyaay or tribal shaman) of the Ipai (formerly northern Diegueño) Native American Indian tribe pictured above standing beside an adobe structure in San Diego County. The elder Cinon Mataweer is wearing a tribal headdress adorned with owl and hawk feathers, and is draped in eagle feathers. The object in his right hand is a can rattle (Southern California Indian musical instrument).
Cinon Mataweer's Ipai-Kumeyaay American Indian tribe has occupied the San Diego-Mexico border region of North America for some 600 generations (12,000 years). He is the great-great-grandfather of Anthony Pico.
The Kumeyaay (aka Kumiai, Ipai-Iipay, Tipai-Tipay, Diegueño, Kamia) is one of four surviving tribal groups indigenous to San Diego County, including the Luiseño, Cupeño, and Cahuilla Indians.
KUMEYAAY MUSEUMS
An extensive Museum of Man cultural display on the Kumeyaay features Cinon Mataweer and exhibits classic types of Southern California Indian spiritual objects he would have used in his ceremonies as a Kumeyaay kuseyaay in the late 19th century.







CHIEF DAN GEORGE
1899-1981
Chief Dan George (Indian name: Geswanouth Slahoot) is a famous 20th century Native American chief of the (Salish) Tsleil-Waututh Nation, a coastal indigenous First Nation Canadian Indian tribe located on the Burrard Inlet, British Columbia, North America.
Chief Dan George was also a celebrated Hollywood actor nominated for an Academy Award, and a prolific writer and poet.
The time will soon be here when my grandchild will long for the cry of a loon, the flash of a salmon, the whisper of spruce needles, or the screech of an eagle.
But he will not make friends with any of these creatures and when his heart aches with longing, he will curse me.
Have I done all to keep the air fresh?
Have I cared enough about the water?
Have I left the eagle to soar in freedom?
Have I done everything I could to earn my grandchild's fondness?
- Chief Dan George, Tsleil-Waututh (1899-1981)








Dan George painting by artist William Meire.
One thing to remember is to talk to the animals.
If you do, they will talk back to you.
But if you don't talk to the animals, they won't talk back to you, then you won't understand, and when you don't understand you will fear, and when you fear you will destroy the animals, and if you destroy the animals, you will destroy yourself.
- Chief Dan George, Tsleil-Waututh (1899-1981)


Hollywood movie actor headshot, Native American actor portfolio.



Russell Means photographed as Chingachgook in "The Last of the Mohicans" Hollywood movie (1982), and a natural environmental portrait in traditional Indian-style braided hair and buckskin jacket photograph used in his obituary memorials.
Russell Charles Means
(1939-2012)
Indian name: Wanbli Ohitika (Brave Eagle), also known as Oyate Wacinyapi (worked for the people)
Tribe: Oglala Lakota (Sioux), Republic of Lakotah
Reservation: Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, South Dakota, USA

The L.A. Times has described him as the most famous American Indian since Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. - russellmeans.com

Russel Means is a famous 20th century American Indian activist who championed Indigenous peoples' rights world wide. He died of a cancer in his home on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in 2012 at the age of 72.

"The one thing I've always maintained is that I'm an American Indian. I'm not politically correct." - Russell Means

Russell Means pictured at various ages in his life — young, middle aged and tribal elder. Famous American Indian activist, tribal leader, Hollywood film actor, writer, and musician.



Russell Means and Dennis Banks, a founder of the original American Indian Movement (AIM), participated in the Wounded Knee occupation in 1973, and the Native American occupation of Alcatraz Island which lasted from November 20, 1969, until June 11, 1971, when it was ended by force by the U.S. government.

Amerian Indian activist Russell Means pictured at a press conference with Dennis Banks (and William Kunstler in the background) in 1974. Photo: Bancroft Library Fang Family San Francisco Examiner photograph archive.



Only known photograph of Chief Seattle, photo L.B. Franklin, 1864.
CHIEF SEATTLE
circa 1780-1866
Chief Si’ahl (Seattle) is a famous 19th century American Indian chief of the Duwamish Tribe whose tribal ancestral homelands include the area known today as the City of Seattle, state of Washington, in North America of the U.S.A.
In fact, the City of Seattle was named after Chief Seattle.
Historically, Chief Seattle was a greatly respected leader among the tribes — a devoted ecologist — who pursued a path of mutual respect and cooperation with the white settlers.
Today, Chief Seattle is best remembered for his eloquent Native American wisdom and ecological writings about humankind's responsibilities and respect for Native Americans' rights to their indigenous homelands.
"Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect."
A famous 19th century speech and writings have been attributed to Chief Seattle, however there is some uncertainty about what he may have actually said or wrote.

Chief Seattle's Treaty Orientation 1854 Version 1 as it was published in the Seattle Sunday Star, October 29, 1887, by Dr. Henry A. Smith. Smith is said to have taken notes as Chief Seattle spoke in the Suquamish dialect, and then transcribed the text in English from his notes. The last two sentences of the text here given have been considered for many years to have been part of the original, but are now known to have been added by an early 20th century historian and ethnographic writer, A. C. Ballard. CHIEF SEATTLE'S 1854 ORATION Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country. There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we, too, may have been somewhat to blame. Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better. Our good father in Washington — for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north — our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward — the Haidas and Tsimshians — will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. Then in reality he will be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white man's God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No, we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us. To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit, and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people. Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them. Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness. It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian's night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man's trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter. A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see. We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

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