Mangas Colradas
Born sometime in the early 1790’s?
Frustrated Search for Peace
In
the summer of 1860, Mangas Coloradas (Red Sleeves, for the color of a shirt
he wore), the principal chief of the Bedonkohe branch of the Chiricahua Apaches,
had sought peace, not war, with the whites. With wisdom burnished by advancing
years, he could see the American invasion surging relentlessly, like a tidal
wave, threatening to engulf the Apache people. Facing the inevitable, Mangas
had searched for ways to protect his band’s desert basin and mountain forest
country in southwestern New Mexico; insure the safety of the Bedonkohes and
his family; and forge an American/Apache relationship based on trust and honor.
Unfortunately,
American ranchers, farmers, stagecoach employees and miners – often protected
by U. S. soldiers – had already begun carving up the Bedonkohe range. They staked
homesteads in the wilderness, grazed livestock on desert and forest grasslands,
broke the rich soils of river bottoms, opened mines into hillsides, and hunted
the mountain slopes for game. They antagonized the Apaches by employing the
mistrusted and hated Mexicans. The settlers – in effect, invaders – howled when
Bedonkohes as well as other Apache bands struck back by raiding settlements
and stealing livestock. Some Americans – who regarded the extermination of the
Indians essentially as part of the process of clearing and developing the land
– killed Apaches whenever and wherever they got a chance, often with government
endorsement and support.
The climate of tension and conflict in southwestern New Mexico would only intensify after prospectors discovered what Mangas Coloradas called "yellow iron" near Pinos Altos – in a region once mined by the Spanish – on May 18, 1860. The strike set off a gold rush. Miners – a raw breed of frontiersmen – accelerated the assault on the Bedonkohes’ lands, cutting down timber, driving out game, gouging up mountains. Determined to force the Apaches from their homeland, 30 miners launched a surprise attack on an encampment of Bedonkohes on the west bank of the Mimbres River at sunrise on December 4, 1860, supposedly in retaliation for the theft of miners’ livestock. The miners "killed four Indians…wounded others, and captured thirteen women and children," according to Edwin R. Sweeney in his book Mangas Coloradas: Chief of the Chiricahua Apaches.
The military itself undermined any opportunity for trust and hope between the Americans and the Apaches, in large part because a green second lieutenant, George N. Bascom, and his troopers deceived another renowned Chiricahua Apache chief, Cochise, and lured him, his family and several warriors into a trap at Apache Pass, in southeastern Arizona in early February, 1861. Cochise, the son-in-law of Mangas Coloradas and principal chief of the Chokonen branch of the Chiricahuas, managed to escape, but Bascom held Cochise’s family and warriors captive. Bascom torpedoed negotiations. Fighting erupted. Blood flowed on both sides. Known as the "Bascom Affair," it ended with six warriors, including Cochise’s brother, hanging by ropes from the branches of trees. Like the visions in the witches’ caldron in Macbeth, the swinging corpses foretold the coming nightmare of a long and brutal struggle between the Apaches and the Americans.
A Call to War
With
his land besieged, his people threatened, and American trustworthiness shattered,
Mangas Coloradas joined forces with Cochise, and they called the Chiricahuas
– the Bedonkohes, the Chokonens, and other branches – to war. It would be remorseless
and savage.
As an aging man and an old campaigner, Mangas knew well the price of war: the
demand for constant vigilance, the continual poise for sudden flight, the trial
of gnawing hunger, the hardships for the women and children, and the anguish
of death.
He also knew the art and the peril of leadership. He knew he would lead the dance of war, the Apache dramatization of a coming battle. He would move around the fire in the night to the beat of the drums, summoning his warriors by name, one by one, to join him, and they would come, firing their weapons into the dark sky while the shaman chanted prayers for power and success. "…there is no backing out," a Chiricahua informant told Morris Edward Opler in an interview for the book An Apache Life-way: The Economic, Social, & Religious Institutions of the Chiricahua Indians, "I don’t care if the odds are against him, a man goes out if he is called upon. He is frenzied, beside himself. It is the power, the prayers, and not just the man." Mangas Coloradas knew, too, that, even with his physical abilities diminished by his advancing years, he would put his life on the line every time as he led his warriors into battles. A leader, said an Opler informant, "would go before [his warriors] in battle and perform great feats to spur them on."
On
January 17, 1863, several of West’s troopers
and
a party of miners raised a white flag at Pinos Altos in a symbolic invitation
to a council for peace. Mangas responded. He came in good faith, escorted by
12 Chiricahuas, expecting, Sweeney said, "…that the whites would embrace
his offers for peace…," especially after "…a war that the Apaches
felt had been forced upon them by the whites." As Mangas and his escort
arrived, under the white flag of truce, armed soldiers burst from hiding, and
"…our squad suddenly leveled our guns upon the [Indians]…," a miner
reported later. In an act of treachery, the Americans had taken the old warrior
hostage. They released his 12 escorts, sending them back to their people to
deliver the news of Mangas’ capture.
West had Mangas thrown into the makeshift adobe cell, where the old chief covered himself with a blanket against the cold and lay down to try to sleep when darkness fell. About midnight, his guards began to torment him, heating their bayonets in a campfire and burning Mangas’ feet and legs with the hot metal. They watched him flinch at the searing pain, then they shot the old man to death, answering West’s order to kill him. Mangas Coloradas had been "trying to escape," they said, giving West a cover.
General Carleton felt proud of the brave guards who shot Mangas Coloradas to death that night. He thought he had broken the back of Chiricahua resistance in southwestern New Mexico. He was wrong. Cochise and other Apache chiefs followed in the footsteps of Mangas Coloradas. The clash of cultures would continue for almost another quarter of a century.
More Information
Born sometime in the early 1790’s, Mangas was fast becoming an old man, but still he possessed cunning as impenetrable as the thick mat of hair that hung down to his waist. His lips were thin and tightly drawn, his nose aquiline… Mangas Coloradas’ following was large and exceptionally cohesive, and he commanded great respect [among the Chiricahuas]."
The
Night They Shot Mangas Coloradas
"Men,
that old murderer has got away from every soldier command and has left a trail
of blood for 500 miles on the old stage line. I want him dead or alive tomorrow
morning, do you understand? I want him dead."
Joseph Rodman West, Brigadier General of the Union Army and future
senator from Louisiana, addressing sentries he had assigned to guard the Chiricahua
Apache chief Mangas Coloradas through a dreary wintry night in a makeshift adobe
prison cell at Fort McLane, southwestern New Mexico.
His sentries understood.
January 18, 1863
"…the single greatest leader the Apaches Born sometime in the early 1790’s,
Mangas was fast becoming an old man, but still he possessed cunning as impenetrable
as the thick mat of hair that hung down to his waist. His lips were thin and
tightly drawn, his nose aquiline… Mangas Coloradas’ following was large and
exceptionally cohesive, and he commanded great respect [among the Chiricahuas]."
had was a physical giant as well as a domineering personality: Mangas Coloradas…"
said James L. Haley, in Apaches: A History and Culture Portrait. "He was
a truly striking figure with a hulking body and disproportionately large head.