Untitled - Smithsonian Institution
Untitled - Smithsonian Institution
Untitled - Smithsonian Institution
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112 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bull. 99<br />
as an honorary president of a powerful amalgamation of scientific<br />
societies. W. might have built and directed a splendidly equipped<br />
and well-paying hospital; but Og. (pi. 9, a), whom we are going to<br />
present now, would have been the altruistic and devoted scientist,<br />
constantly busy in the laboratory, peering over tables and instruments,<br />
testing, measuriDg, and titrating, doggedly in search after<br />
methods and devices to improve the health and lengthen the life of<br />
this sorely tried and cruelly stricken humanity.<br />
Og. was 64 years old when he died in 1927, while I was working with<br />
him. His knowledge was truly encyclopedic, and whenever the<br />
rich fund of W.'s information tarried, and no one else could supply<br />
the necessary elucidation, Og. was the last and usually happy resort.<br />
When there was a diagnosis to be made that baffled everybody his<br />
knowledge and experience was never called upon in vain; when<br />
plants or roots were needed, the very names of which other medicine<br />
men but faintly recollected, he was always able to describe them, to<br />
find them, and to identify them.<br />
When hoary origins of institutions and of practices were to be dug<br />
up out of the voluminous mythological lore he was the man to do it,<br />
when everybody else had failed.<br />
If only he had had 10 per cent as much ambition as he had knowl-<br />
edge of tribal, ritual, and medicinal affairs he woidd have been as<br />
celebrated one day as that other "Oconostota" of Fort Loudon fame.<br />
But his inherent shyness, which went so far as to actuall}'^ shun the<br />
company even of his friends, his passion for his profession, his truly<br />
philosophic turn of mind, made of this man a personality that in a<br />
civilized community and in an educated environment might have<br />
become an Edison or an Einstein.<br />
Dotmg college juniors could not discuss the branch of their predi-<br />
lection with so much zeal and enthusiasm as Og. could. Hours at a<br />
stretch he could not only give information—or rather lecture on<br />
Cherokee obstetrics or semeiology, as I w^oidd much rather put it<br />
but he could investigate a problem, ask surprismgly keen questions, i<br />
that often really stunulated thought and provoked solutions.<br />
He was practically the only medicine man of the many I have ]<br />
known who could be said to have a certain perspective in his Icnowledge i<br />
and who was not hopelessly unable to connect two bits of information<br />
that came from different branches of his "erudition." If his opinion<br />
was asked regarding an obscure text in the formulas, he would of<br />
his own accord consult liis fund of mythological lore, to see what he<br />
could find there that might be of any use to shed some light on the<br />
problem. t<br />
His professional devotion was edifying, and his honesty was beyond<br />
questioning. I have elsewhere drawn attention to the baffling fact i<br />
t-hat even such a character as Og. used methods which can hardly<br />
—