A Seat at the Table
Thanksgiving is that wonderful holiday we Americans can wholly take part in. It’s not reserved for any particular persuasion—it’s everyone’s day to celebrate. As children we learned early on in our primary education that the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in the fall of 1621 at Plymouth colony by the Pilgrims and the native people who broke bread together in gratitude for the abundant harvest. For generations, kids have proudly presented their parents with that perennial favorite keepsake, the “hand” turkey (you know the one I’m referring to with its four, brightly colored, finger feathers), in celebration of both the holiday and their newly acquired historical knowledge rife with themes of neighborly love and generosity.
There are few moments, if any, beyond our early education that we truly ponder the backstory of this holiday, though, the backstory is particularly paramount, being that the person responsible for the fortuitous outcome to an otherwise calamitous year for the Pilgrims literally stepped out of the shadows and saved them. Tisquantum, or, as we know him, Squanto, showed the Pilgrims the how-to's and the what-for's of survival in the wilderness, or, what he called, home.
This acclimation wasn’t achieved by simply pointing and gesturing, but, rather it was conveyed to the Pilgrims in their native language. Practically fluent, Squanto's bilingual talents instantly proved to be a valuable asset to both the Pilgrims and the Native Americans, and, to the advancement his own ambitions. History reveres Squanto as a friend to the Pilgrims, but his real intention had less to do with a “kumbaya” mentality, and more so with something considerably intangible to someone like him: autonomy.
Above all, Squanto was a survivor. Within the relatively short span of his recondite life, Squanto was taken captive several times by both Europeans as well as his native people. He not only survived these confinements, but found a way to thrive, consequently at the cost of his standing within his own nation, while never being fully embraced by the English. He ultimately became a man without a nation, literally and figuratively.
Tisquantum was born into the Algonquian-speaking, Patuxet tribe, a band of the Wampanoag confederation, in the area of Plymouth, Massachusetts, around 1580. Although nothing is known of his childhood, the indigenous people that had been living throughout southern New England for the past 12,000 years would have been “rudimentary sedentary cultivators” who relocated biennially into the protection of the forests for the winter, and in the summer, resided near their open corn fields. Squanto would have lived in his mother’s wetu, which by definition was a dome-shaped home, and it would have been occupied by his extended matrilineal family. As a boy, he would have hunted and fished around the extensive settlement alongside the men of his village, and observed the farming and crop preservation techniques managed by the women.
Click on the gallery above to view images of Patuxet village life.
Although there is dispute among researchers, some historical evidence suggests that in 1605, when Squanto was in his mid-twenties, he and four Penobscots were kidnapped along the Maine coast by Captain John Weymouth and presented in England to his financial backer, Sir Fernando Gorges. During his decade in captivity there, Squanto, and his fellow captives were paraded around London as curiosities. Over time, he became proficient in the English ways and language, and eventually was utilized as an interpreter and guide in the New World.
In 1614, he accompanied Captain John Smith (of Jamestown fame) to New England with the promise that Squanto could return home to his family once Smith had explored and mapped the Cape Cod area. But, first things first…
Image: John Smith's Map of New England, 1616. The Pilgrims purchased this map but it is unknown whether it was brought along on their Mayflower voyage. They even considered hiring Smith as their military adviser for the colony, but decided against it due to Smith's fame and arrogance (and price), and chose the experienced soldier, Myles Standish, instead.
Upon completion of his mapping, Smith returned to England, leaving behind his second in command, Captain Thomas Hunt, to increase their fishing stores for the purpose of keeping their investors back in England encouraged, while continuing to hunt and trade fur pelts with the natives—a good faith gesture, as the enterprising Smith had greater ambitions of permanently colonizing the area several years before the arrival of the Pilgrims. He even named “Smithe Iles” (later called the "Isles of Shoals" off the coast of New Hampshire) in his honor during this trip, and also coined the named “New England”, as seen on his map.
Image: Map detail. John Smith at 36 years old. This was the
only lifetime portrait of the explorer, which he himself commissioned the famed Dutch portrait engraver, Simon Van de Passe, to create. Van de Passe's contributions to medallic art featured some of the most notable of English society at the time.
But, soon after Smith had departed, Hunt lured 27 Patuxet and Nauset men (among them, Squanto) on board his vessel under the auspices of trading beaver, then seized them, and took them to Malaga, Spain where he attempted to sell them into slavery for 20 pounds each. The Nauset and Patuxet were outraged at these abductions, and became hostile toward the Europeans, ending any effective trade with approaching ships.
Ultimately, a group of Spanish friars learned of Hunt’s intentions and helped Squanto and the remaining captives escape. Squanto stayed with the monks for a year or two before heading to England, where he lived and worked for a wealthy merchant named John Slaney. In 1617, Slaney sent Squanto to Newfoundland as a guide and interpreter on an expedition; there he crossed paths with Captain Thomas Dermers, who had worked for Sir Fernando Gorges in the past. Recognizing Squanto, he wrote to Gorges informing him that he had found “his Indian” and brought Squanto back to England. Some time after their return to England, Gorges decided to organize another exploration of New England’s resources, intending to send Squanto along with Dermers to try and reestablish trading and peace with the natives. At the end of this expedition, it was agreed, Squanto was to return to his Patuxet village.
Eventually, in 1619, they dropped anchor at what had recently become known as Plymouth Harbor, the area where Squanto had lived as a child. As Squanto approached his village for the long awaited reunion with his people he discovered instead that everyone was gone. As in dead. A great plague had swept the area of Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island up to the Penobscot River in Maine between 1616-1617. Finally, when the calamity took its toll on the last of the Patuxet, there was no one left to bury them; exposed where they had expired, their remains were scattered to the four winds. Squanto was now the sole survivor of his tribe.
Within a few months of Squanto’s grim discovery, the Mayflower would arrive and settle upon this very spot, and also encounter the same ghastly evidence of the annihilated Patuxet village. Thomas Morton, an early English colonist wrote: "and the bones and skulls upon several places of their habitations made such a spectacle after my coming into these parts, that, as I traveled in the Forest near the Massachusetts, it seemed to me a new found Golgotha". Likewise, no Indian would contest this occupation convinced the site was haunted by evil spirits.
In the summer of 1620, just months ahead of the Pilgrims' arrival, Dermers had landed his vessel at Capacock (Martha’s Vineyard) where he and his crew along with Squanto were initially welcomed by the Nauset leader, Epenow, and his followers. Epenow, himself, had been kidnapped in 1611, and was eventually brought to Gorges in England where he was put on display at dinners and events attended by the city's rich and powerful. Three years into his confinement, he convinced his abductors there was gold to be had on Capacock, and so a ship was dispatched to there by Gorges. Once on the island, Epenow secretly conspired with his family to overtake the crew and make his escape. There were heavy casualties on both sides, but Epenow’s plan was successful, and he was finally free of his captors.
A similar situation rapidly unfolded for the Dermer party during a subsequent visit to Capacock. Almost the entire crew was killed save for Dermer, Squanto, and one other man (Dermer, badly hurt, barely escaped to Virginia where he later died from his injuries). Epenow, an important figure in the anti-English resistance, mistrusted Squanto's
association with Dermer, so he was taken captive and eventually handed over to the leading Wampanoag sachem, Massasoit.
In March of 1621, when Squanto, along with, Massasoit, first met with the men that mattered of Plymouth colony, he already had definite aspirations. Squanto recognized opportunity had come knocking at his door in the form of agency: he could provide both sides with valuable knowledge by acting as a kind of liaison, while neither side was ever quite sure that his interpretations were either accurate or honest.
In fact, Squanto did pit each side against the other at times, falsely warning the colonists, for instance, that they were about to be attacked, or suggesting to his people that the Pilgrims had buried the plague underground in barrels (it was actually gunpowder), ready to unleash it upon them at their whim, particularly if Squanto wasn’t obeyed. Neither was true, but, in those moments each hung on Squanto’s every word, granting him a social authority that at times threatened to supersede even Massasoit’s power.
As a result, Massasoit, who had permitted Squanto to live with the Pilgrims, was infuriated and demanded the return of his prisoner so he could be tried and (likely) executed. But, Governor William Bradford, knowing this, refused to hand Squanto over, and he remained with the colony for the time being while the two sides continued their contentious standoff.
At the same time as tensions between Massasoit and Bradford were escalating, inter-tribal fighting broke out, deflecting attention away from the situation with Squanto. In the end, the Wampanoag decided to permanently shun Squanto, and he lived the short remainder of his life among the Pilgrims in Plymouth.
While out on a trading expedition in November of 1622, Squanto became ill. He began to bleed profusely from his nose, which he recognized as a sign he was going to die. He asked Governor Bradford to pray for him to the “Englishmens God”. Within a few days Squanto succumbed to his illness much to the sadness of Bradford who wrote that his passing was a “great loss” to his English friends.
The cause of his sudden death remains a mystery. Some say it was due to ‘’Indian Fever”—the catchall for any virulent illness (introduced by the Europeans) that sickened/killed the native population, while others posit he was poisoned by Massasoit who had the means, motive, and opportunity to carry out such an assassination. We shall never know as he was buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the village of Chatham on Cape Cod.
One thing is for sure, though, had it not been for Squanto, Plymouth colony would have perished within its first year from a culmination of illness, starvation, and attacks on the village—within a few short months of their arrival 45 of the 102 Mayflower passengers had already died. Through his efforts he changed the wilderness into home for them, and along with his pleas for cooperation among the warring factions, Squanto secured the Pilgrims’ success.
But this story isn’t about the Pilgrims. It’s about Squanto, and whether or not his motivation to help the Pilgrims was purely altruistic (history books), or shameless self-promotion, or perhaps something a bit less imperious like self-preservation.
Image: Massachusetts Bay Colony Seal, 1629. “Come over and help us” reads the sentence emerging from the Indian's lips. After a 12,000-year presence in the eastern woodlands of North America it's unlikely the indigenous people required anyone's assistance. Almost 400 years later the debate rages on in Massachusetts regarding the racial
oppression imagery depicted on its current seal.
Squanto had spent most of his adult life under the control of those who had little regard for his personage, while much to gain from his cooperation. During his many years in captivity the inevitability of the coming storm upon his native land was unfolding right there before him. Upon his permanent return in 1619, his homecoming was anything but; it was truly a “new world” in which he was a foreigner in his own land now. How he chose to straddle that reality was as remarkable as it was profoundly intuitive. Where along the narrative he went from bewildered to self-determined is anyone’s guess, but he came as close to autonomous as anyone in his position could rightfully imagine. And, what’s more, he got to be the hero, albeit in a manner only history can sanitize.
That first Thanksgiving was so much more than simply a large three-day social event enjoyed by two circumspect adversaries; it was a celebration of hope, real hope, and not just wishful thinking. Moreover, it was a predication of peace, and one that, 16 generations later, has yet to be wholly reconciled in an age having none of it.
Nonetheless, this Thanksgiving, as we once again lift a perfect forkful of turkey, stuffing and mashed potato into our mouths, may we also keep in mind our venerable holiday is rooted in something far more complex than that “hand” turkey icon is likely to ever represent.
Image: “The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth,” from 1914, by Jennie Augusta Brownscombe. Benevolent images, like this painting, portray an idealized (historically-scrubbed) scene.