The Sad Story of Walla Tonka
Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 8:23 am
After Little League was over for me, I was invited to play on a traveling baseball team. We would take two or three day weekend trips playing other teams within good distance of us. The only requirement for me was to keep my grades up.
To me, school was a necessary evil to play baseball. Near the end of our traveling season, our report cards were handed out and I received an 'F'. I deserved the F. I deeply disliked the teacher. He placed me at the front of his class, so I couldn't talk baseball. He also had a bad habit of spitting when saying words with s's or t's. I got fed up and screamed,
"Say it! Don't spray it!"
It's probably fair to say he shared the same dislike for me.
I had to take that report card home and get it signed. I saw the end of my baseball days. Not to mention the beating my backend would get. So I did what any other Dennis The Menace would do. I changed the grade from an F to a B.
It worked for the weekend. Enough for our team to qualify for an important tournament.
But upon returning the report card on Monday, my jig was up.
I was sent home early in shame. My Mom picked me up and she uttered the words that scared every kid of our era....
'Wait till your Father gets home!'
My Dad was good with the belt and he never said, 'This'll hurt me, more than you!'
He and I both knew better.
That belting was the worse I got as a kid. It could have been worse. The phone rang after what seemed to be hours and my Mom entered the bedroom, covered her mouth and gave a shriek when seeing my behind (that did NOT make me feel better at all!) and told my Dad the phone was for him.
After my dad left, my Mom hustled me into a bathtub and started running cold water to soothe my behind.
This kind of punishment may seem harsh to younger readers, but common in my time.
The Man on the phone was my baseball coach, already imploring my Dad to let me play in the tournament. After my Dad got done yelling at him, he came into the bathroom and asked if I'd learned my lesson.
Like any red blooded American kid, I answered that I had.
But, I knew deep in my heart that if I had things to do over again, I would have done the same.
I tell this story because it leads to another story.
You see, after a week of my baseball coach calling the house every night and visiting our house two times, my parents allowed me to play in that tournament. I don't know why they gave in. I didn't care. I had a reprieve.
I just knew I could play baseball one more weekend.
It's not like a committed murder or something. Which takes us to the other story....
Billy Goings was a great baseball player. The folks who went to watch baseball were captivated by his skills. He was a five tool player before folks knew what a five tool player was.
Goings, whose real name was Walla Tonka, was 100% Choctaw Indian. Playing in the 1890's against mostly white men was tough. Think Jackie Robinson.
His talent was genuine though and everybody who played against him knew it.
Although Walla Tonka was given 'Billy Goings' as a white man's name, brought up on a reservation, he had few thoughts that resembled a white man.
Walla Tonka committed a murder in the middle of baseball season. He killed a woman. A woman,who he was convinced was working witchcraft on him. He felt the only way to stop the spells or potions was to kill the source.
And so he did.
At the time, Indian crimes were handled by tribal councils. Walla Tonka's tribal council sentenced him to death.
News of the sentence did not set right with the baseball fans of the area. They enjoyed watching Walla Tonka play. They were upset that his own people could come up with such a bad, quick ruling. Upset that they were robbed of seeing the talents of Walla Tonka, baseball fans showed displeasure by telling friends, people in the press, and politicians.
It became a big story of the day.
Buffalo Bill Cody, one of the largest celebrities of the day, even wrote a letter to a Chicago paper. He stated that although he had never met Walla Tonka, he was sure he would not flee during baseball season if allowed to play. Cody went on to say that Choctaw's were an honorable, something he could not say about the Apache's.
The public outcry was huge and the tribal judge soon relented and commuted the sentence to the last day of baseball season.
Buffalo Bill was correct. Walla Tonka played every game and did not attempt an escape.
The last day of the season was on a Friday. It was rained out till Monday. This got the legal minds going. They were saying that the sentence, itself, should now be rained out.
A writ of habeus corpas came from a federal judge. When awoken with the good news that he had received a temporary reprieve, Walla Tonka responded, "Maybe me play more ball now".
Two years of legal wrangling ensued. It became a battle of the federal Government vs. tribal law.
The Government sent a posse to rescue Walla Tonka. What they would do with Walla Tonka was still up for debate.
News spread to the Reservation that a rescue posse was on the way.
The tribal judge ordered Walla Tonka shot immediately.
Unknown to Government officials, there was politics within the tribal council. There had been feuds between the Tribal Judge's family and that of Walla Tonka's. The Tribal Judge was anxious for the execution to be carried out.
The posse was held off at gunpoint on the edge of the reservation.
In the meantime, one of the worst executions in American history was about to take place.
Walla Tonka was led to an open casket with a quilt in front of it. His shirt was taken off and a target was painted over his heart. The executioner then took four paces back and shot at the target. He missed the target. He shot Walla Tonka in the abdomen. Walla Tonka writhed in pain.
He writhed in pain for an hour. Some say he was shot three more times and was still alive. Others say that the executioner talked with the Judge in what to do next, while Walla Tonka was balled up in pain.
In the end, it was decided that tilting Walla Tonka's head and pouring water down his throat was the best course of action.
Walla Tonka drowned.
The Government and citizens were outraged. But, what was done, was done.
Walla Tonka would be the last capital punishment case carried out by a tribal council.
To me, school was a necessary evil to play baseball. Near the end of our traveling season, our report cards were handed out and I received an 'F'. I deserved the F. I deeply disliked the teacher. He placed me at the front of his class, so I couldn't talk baseball. He also had a bad habit of spitting when saying words with s's or t's. I got fed up and screamed,
"Say it! Don't spray it!"
It's probably fair to say he shared the same dislike for me.
I had to take that report card home and get it signed. I saw the end of my baseball days. Not to mention the beating my backend would get. So I did what any other Dennis The Menace would do. I changed the grade from an F to a B.
It worked for the weekend. Enough for our team to qualify for an important tournament.
But upon returning the report card on Monday, my jig was up.
I was sent home early in shame. My Mom picked me up and she uttered the words that scared every kid of our era....
'Wait till your Father gets home!'
My Dad was good with the belt and he never said, 'This'll hurt me, more than you!'
He and I both knew better.
That belting was the worse I got as a kid. It could have been worse. The phone rang after what seemed to be hours and my Mom entered the bedroom, covered her mouth and gave a shriek when seeing my behind (that did NOT make me feel better at all!) and told my Dad the phone was for him.
After my dad left, my Mom hustled me into a bathtub and started running cold water to soothe my behind.
This kind of punishment may seem harsh to younger readers, but common in my time.
The Man on the phone was my baseball coach, already imploring my Dad to let me play in the tournament. After my Dad got done yelling at him, he came into the bathroom and asked if I'd learned my lesson.
Like any red blooded American kid, I answered that I had.
But, I knew deep in my heart that if I had things to do over again, I would have done the same.
I tell this story because it leads to another story.
You see, after a week of my baseball coach calling the house every night and visiting our house two times, my parents allowed me to play in that tournament. I don't know why they gave in. I didn't care. I had a reprieve.
I just knew I could play baseball one more weekend.
It's not like a committed murder or something. Which takes us to the other story....
Billy Goings was a great baseball player. The folks who went to watch baseball were captivated by his skills. He was a five tool player before folks knew what a five tool player was.
Goings, whose real name was Walla Tonka, was 100% Choctaw Indian. Playing in the 1890's against mostly white men was tough. Think Jackie Robinson.
His talent was genuine though and everybody who played against him knew it.
Although Walla Tonka was given 'Billy Goings' as a white man's name, brought up on a reservation, he had few thoughts that resembled a white man.
Walla Tonka committed a murder in the middle of baseball season. He killed a woman. A woman,who he was convinced was working witchcraft on him. He felt the only way to stop the spells or potions was to kill the source.
And so he did.
At the time, Indian crimes were handled by tribal councils. Walla Tonka's tribal council sentenced him to death.
News of the sentence did not set right with the baseball fans of the area. They enjoyed watching Walla Tonka play. They were upset that his own people could come up with such a bad, quick ruling. Upset that they were robbed of seeing the talents of Walla Tonka, baseball fans showed displeasure by telling friends, people in the press, and politicians.
It became a big story of the day.
Buffalo Bill Cody, one of the largest celebrities of the day, even wrote a letter to a Chicago paper. He stated that although he had never met Walla Tonka, he was sure he would not flee during baseball season if allowed to play. Cody went on to say that Choctaw's were an honorable, something he could not say about the Apache's.
The public outcry was huge and the tribal judge soon relented and commuted the sentence to the last day of baseball season.
Buffalo Bill was correct. Walla Tonka played every game and did not attempt an escape.
The last day of the season was on a Friday. It was rained out till Monday. This got the legal minds going. They were saying that the sentence, itself, should now be rained out.
A writ of habeus corpas came from a federal judge. When awoken with the good news that he had received a temporary reprieve, Walla Tonka responded, "Maybe me play more ball now".
Two years of legal wrangling ensued. It became a battle of the federal Government vs. tribal law.
The Government sent a posse to rescue Walla Tonka. What they would do with Walla Tonka was still up for debate.
News spread to the Reservation that a rescue posse was on the way.
The tribal judge ordered Walla Tonka shot immediately.
Unknown to Government officials, there was politics within the tribal council. There had been feuds between the Tribal Judge's family and that of Walla Tonka's. The Tribal Judge was anxious for the execution to be carried out.
The posse was held off at gunpoint on the edge of the reservation.
In the meantime, one of the worst executions in American history was about to take place.
Walla Tonka was led to an open casket with a quilt in front of it. His shirt was taken off and a target was painted over his heart. The executioner then took four paces back and shot at the target. He missed the target. He shot Walla Tonka in the abdomen. Walla Tonka writhed in pain.
He writhed in pain for an hour. Some say he was shot three more times and was still alive. Others say that the executioner talked with the Judge in what to do next, while Walla Tonka was balled up in pain.
In the end, it was decided that tilting Walla Tonka's head and pouring water down his throat was the best course of action.
Walla Tonka drowned.
The Government and citizens were outraged. But, what was done, was done.
Walla Tonka would be the last capital punishment case carried out by a tribal council.