An NDE and Visions Among the Chilcat Indians at Rancho Chico California in Mid to Late 1800’s

 

I first heard about John and Annie Bidwell in a book called Under God's Spell: Frontier Evangelists 1772-1915 by Cathy Luchetti, 1989. It’s written from the diaries of Catholic and Protestant missionaries, both men and women, in the 1800’s. Annie’s story is taken from her own writings.

She was born in 1841, related to some of the elite that helped found our nation. Her great grandfather was the surveyor who laid out Washington in 1790. As she grew, her contemporary social circle was full of influential leaders.

She married John Bidwell, who went west without her to acquire a 22,000 acre ranch and build a lovely two story mansion, which is now a historical museum. Her piano was shipped around the horn of Africa. My son Ben had the privilege of playing a few cords on it, with permission of the tour guide, when he was young and his lessons were still fresh.

The ranch had been the hunting ground for a band of about 250 Chilcat Indians who gathered acorns among the oaken brush. They lived in domed, sunken, windowless hovels made of sticks and reeds. Feeling that he had done the group some damage by frightening away the game with ranch activities, John endeavored to befriend the men of the tribe.

Annie joined him at Rancho Chico in 1868 when she was 27 years old. She learned to stay out of sight when she and John visited the Indians because the men weren’t used to seeing white women, so she focused on luring the women to their homesite by showing them material for clothes that was more interesting than the crude needles and sack material provided by John.

Annie not only taught the women and children to sew, she taught them English and math in a space provided near the residence. While the women sewed, Annie told them about the Bible and the message of Jesus. Many of the women, who wove stunning baskets out of reeds, quickly became adept at making dresses and shirts. Slowly over time, the tribe, including the men, looked to Annie as their spiritual and educational mentor, even improving and expanding the homes they lived in.

One of the more important characters in our story is a woman called Nopanny, daughter of the chief, wife of a man named Billy. Billy was not a believer, so when Annie gave Nopanny a family Bible, Nopanny felt that it wasn’t appropriate to keep it. Annie wrote,

"Not very long after this she came to me for the Bible, saying, “My husband died and went to God and God showed him that Book and told him it was His Book, and he must believe it.” From that day to this, Billie has been a loyal Christian. (Billie had not actually passed away, only “died” in the sense of experiencing a vision.)"

The Bidwells promised to build the natives a chapel, but the elaborate project they envisioned never got done. One problem was that the they were staunch Presbyterians, a denomination that would not allow women to be ministers or teachers of men, or even to pray in public. But God works in mysterious ways. 

The natives had formerly seen death as something terrible. They would put a tarry plant substance in their hair, throw ashes on top of that, and pace about wailing and grieving. Over time, when they realized that they could go to a better place called heaven, their customs changed, and some even elected to be buried in coffins like the white people.

Annie did not push any changes in customs. The Chilcats’ transformation was internal and willing.  

One day Annie was called to visit a man and wife who were dying of consumption. The wife was unconscious on the floor; the man, named Tokeeno, was propped against a wall. Tokeeno was Nopanny’s cousin. Annie said “Let’s pray,” but Nopanny held that the dying wife wasn’t a Christian so it wouldn’t be right. She wanted Tokeeno to be transported to her own home so she could care for him and have a proper service, for there was no chapel yet. This arrangement was approved by Tokeeno, so several natives carried him to Billy and Nopanny’s. As the little congregation gathered there, she set up a chair for him covered with a quilt.

"Suddenly a ghastliness overspread his face: his eyes became glazed and wide-open. His jaw fell and his whole appearance was that of death. I was horror stricken, as were all the others, and knew not what to say. We had had services before in Nopanny’s house for our little school band, but this was the first time the men had come, and I was afraid his death would prejudice them against having any more services there, and, besides, I was full or horror at the event."

Annie did the only thing she could think of. “Let us pray.” So they did. At the end of the prayer, a violent trembling came over Tokeeno’s body, light came to his eyes, and he gasped for air. Annie gave a little lesson from Scripture and left the house, too overcome to stay, but Nopanny tracked her down, reporting that Tokeeno had seen God, who sent him back to make sure that the church got built. The very next day, the carpenters started on the new building. It soon proved too small and another was built. Tokeeno walked out of Nopanny’s house the following Sunday and lived for another six months.

Once the chapel was built, Annie had difficulty calling it a church because of the strict restraints on women in the Presbyterian denomination. The natives called it a church. By that time Annie was effectively the pastor and teacher of both men and women.

"But I had taken that work up, contrary to customs, for, at that time in our church, no woman dared to pray in public. And when Tokeeno demanded the church house, I tried to get some man to take charge of the services, for the Indians would not have Sunday School, they wished “church.” Finding that I had to assume charge, I thought I would call it Sunday School anyway, even if it was church, when it seemed to me God said to me, “Will you lie to the Holy Spirit? This is a CHURCH!”

At that point, Annie gave up all fetters and performed the duties of a minister. Eventually, she was ordained as such.

I have a little side story to add to this saga. A friend and I brought our Jr. High aged kids to the mansion for a tour. The residence was charming, full of their old furniture, including Annie’s piano, which my son got to play for a bit. On the walls were posters with photos of Annie and her various contributions to civic life, but there wasn’t a hint of the wondrous events I had read about in my book.

When the tour was over, some of us lingered in the lobby where we had bought our tickets. I complained to the young female seller that some of Annie’s most marvelous accomplishments weren’t shown on the posters. An older woman was sitting further back in the room at a desk with a computer (or typewriter, I can’t recall). She answered my query by rolling her eyes and saying, “The Indians have their stories, but I’m the one transcribing her diary, and there isn’t a hint of any of that in it.”

“Then what did I read?” I responded. I told her about Luchetti’s book, done from primary research in archives and libraries.

“I don’t know, but I can assure you that it isn’t in her diary.”

Perplexed, I dropped the subject and wandered over to a rack with books, maps, and pamphlets. There were a couple of 8.5x11 books of her writings about her work with the Indians. They were just soft cover, typed, xeroxed, cheaply printed books, so I picked one up and opened to a random page. And there it was, one of the stories from Under God’s Eye. I ran back to the ticket booth and showed them.

“Oooooh,” said the older woman. “Those stories are in the Indian material.”

What? It occurred to no one to check? They just dismissed all the “stories” because the Chilcats couldn’t possibly know what they were talking about?

The young ticket seller suggested that my ticket price be refunded but boss lady just snorted and turned back to her typing.