We wanted to alert you to an article in the Santa Fean magazine February/March 2010. Joseph Smith remembers Tahoma paintings and stories about the Navajo artist’s life woven into Smith’s own family history. We continue to be amazed at the number of families who feel this connection to Quincy Tahoma and treasure his paintings.

You can read the article  in the Santa Fean online edition if the magazine is not readily available where you live.

Smith goes hunting for Tahoma’s grave in the Rosario Cemetery in Santa Fe and finds the area of the unmarked grave.  It is a sad, but very touching story.

Ever since we found the record of Tahoma’s funeral at the Cathedral and his grave location at Rosario cemetery, we have puzzled over many things. He was not a practicing Catholic, so why the Catholic church funeral and burial? Did his friend Eppie Montoya, politically and religiously well connected, pull a few strings?  Why is the grave not marked? Because the cemetery did not recognize American Indians? Because his friends ran out of money?

Give us your thoughts. And please take a look at Joseph Smith’s lovely essay.

In the last post, I explained that I (Vera) joined Charnell in the Tahoma project in the year 2000.  We had many mysteries to unravel about the Navajo artist before we were even sure that it would be possible to assemble a book about Quincy Tahoma. After all, we needed more answers than questions if we were to produce something of value to the reader.

By 2004, we had received encouragement from people like Bruce Bernstein (then at the American Museum and now at SWAIA-Santa Fe Indian Market); Peter Iverson, professor and author of several books on the Navajo; Jim Bialac, leading collector of Indian art; Mark Bahti in Tucson and Ray Dewey in Santa Fe, both leading Indian traders….and the list kept growing.

But more important than encouragement, we had begun to assemble solid facts. Harrison Begay gave Mark Bahti information. Charnell had discovered Jean McSwain, who had been a girlfriend of Tahoma. Charnell discovered the connection between Tahoma and the Christian Brothers of Santa Fe. And the contacts continued to pile up as we filled in the timeline of his life.

We knew we had to publish, when in 2003, out of the blue, a local publisher’s acquisition editor asked if I had any book ideas. Then I met a university press editor and she was very interested in the book and early in 2004, offered us a contract. Soon after, I had the opportunity to talk to another regional publisher who had some interest, and also sent a proposal to a national publisher.  All of these fell through, but with favorable reviews from university reviewers, we could see that there was going to be interest in the book, so we kept filling in the blanks and started actually writing chapters.

We wrote an article that was published in American Indian Art magazine, wrote an article for the Santa Fe newspaper, and were interviewed by the Gallup Trader newspaper and the Navajo Times. And the web site for Tahoma drew more contacts and more information.

Ultimately we tried another private publisher and two more university presses–one of whom took nearly two years to make a final decision– before we found the right match.

But finally, we have found the perfect home for the Tahoma biography, Schiffer Books in Atglen Pennsylvania. Stay tuned as we prepare the manuscript, double check all the photographs of Tahoma’s paintings, and bring you a copy of Quincy Tahoma: The Life and Legacy of a Navajo Artist — a title which may change–another reason to stay tuned.

Please use the comment space to tell us what YOU would like to know about our research and writing of the Tahoma biography.  What do you find most interesting?  Or do you have something to add to our knowledge base? Join in the discussion. We would love to have you be a partner.

I told you how I met Quincy Tahoma’s artist friend, Ramos Sanchez through Rex Arrowsmith, an Indian arts dealer and expert. This is about my attempt to find Ramos.  When I knew that I was going to be in Santa Fe, I called Ramos and asked if I could come and see him. Sure, he said, any time.  We settled on a date and time and his wife Gerdie gave me directions to his house, which is outside the San Ildenfonso Pueblo, but within the Pueblo’s reservation lines.

I love the country north of Santa Fe. The land here is punctuated by unexpected mesas and vistas of green-clad mountains in the background. In between wide sweeps of flat dusty land provide scarce vegetation for wandering cows and horses.

It is easy to see why the pueblo people have settled there for hundreds, if not a thousand years.  When the Spanish conquistadors came through the Puebloans were here, and they are still here. Most of their legends say they came down from the area of Mesa Verde in Colorado and split into the many villages that exist today, most along the Rio Grand River that runs south from the mountains in northern New Mexico, past Santa Fe and Albuquerque on its way to Texas.

The directions that Gerdie gave me went something like this. Take the highway north from Santa Fe and follow the branch toward Alamos. Go across the river and when you see the black mesa, look for a trailer house and then we are the next road.  It sounded pretty clear until I got there. But then, I wasn’t very clear on a lot of things. I thought Gerdie’s name was Gertie (like my husband’s aunt Gertrude) until I had visited with Gerdie a couple of times, and saw her name in print.

I missed the turn-off to Alamos which is pretty simple to see when you are familiar with it–and pulled into an orchard where a guy loading crates of fruit explained to me how to get to San Ildefonse.

I saw an entrance to San Ildefonse, but I had not yet crossed a river. Soon I saw another sign for San Ildefonse, and I got worried because I assumed I need to go into the village.  I pulled off the road, and called Gertie on my cell phone. No, she explained, I did NOT need to go into San Ildefonse.  I went on a ways and the road dipped and curved over a bridge across the Rio Grande River. (Duh, I said to myself–”the river” is the Rio Grande.)

Ahead was a large black mesa on the right hand side of the road. Of course there were mesas of varying degrees of darkness all over the place, but this one seemed more dramatic than the rest, and likely to be the landmark.  Good. The bad news, however, lay ahead–a ribbon of road bordered by barbed wire fence, and here and there a cluster of houses or trailers off to the right beneath trees.

Thoroughly confused, I called Gerdie once again. By now I’m sure she had me pegged as an idiot and was wondering why she and Ramos were wasting their time on me.  “Do you see a man painting by the road?” She asked. YES! There he was, easel set up for painting the Black Mesa.  That was a landmark that got me in to their house. Heaven knows how I would have found it if he had packed up his paints before I got there.

This expedition was just another example of communications between the native dwellers of the Southwest who know every natural landmark and notice every change made by man–and the urbanized (even from small towns) non-Indians who rely on roads, named geological features, numbers on houses and signs to get around.

New Orleans Balconies

I’ve just returned from a few days in the wonderful, timeless city of New Orleans.  I could not help wondering if Quincy Tahoma ever saw that city?  The odds are slim, but the possibility persists.

The De La Salle Christian Brothers, a French Catholic religious order, founded St. Michael’s school in Santa Fe in 1859 as part of San Miguel Mission.  Originally, the school was open for boys only, and girls went to the Sisters of Loretto Academy nearby.  The street now known as Santa Fe Trail was called University in Quincy’s day because it ran beside the St. Michael’s school.

Quincy Tahoma found a friend in Brother Francis at St. Michaels during the 1950′s. In exchange for a place to stay when he was out of money and recovering from a bout of drinking, Quincy painted pictures for the Christian Brothers, which they still display in their living quarters on the campus of the new St. Michael’s High School on the east side of Santa Fe.  Quincy wrote a letter to Brother Francis after the former principal of the school had retired to the main office of the Santa Fe District of the Christian Brothers. That main office still stands in Lafayette, Louisiana.

In the letter, Quincy says that he might come down there next winter, and inquires whether they have any museums there. Harrison Begay says that he thinks Quincy once traveled to Louisiana, but we can find no other record of such a visit. We have also been unable to learn whether the Christian Brother’s archives contain any correspondence between Quincy and Brother Francis, or if any of his paintings made their way to Louisiana.

Of course, if you have any knowledge about this chapter of Quincy’s life, or if you can lead us to someone who might know, we would appreciate your help.  We are sharing what we know so that others may share with us what they know about Quincy Tahoma. The more stories we have, the better picture we can paint of his life.

Posted by Vera Marie Badertscher May 25, 2009

Photograph by Vera Marie Badertscher. All rights reserved.

Writing a biography of Quincy Tahoma took a lot of research verging on detective work. We started our research with questions.

• Where was Quincy Tahoma born?
• What was his clan?
• Were any of his family members still living?
• Was he, in fact, adopted, and if so, why?
• What caused the injury to his arm that many people mentioned?
• What did he do during World War II? (Many biographical sketches said he served in the armed forces, and some even said he was a Code Talker.)
• Why did he die so young?
• Where is he buried?
• Where are his paintings today?
• Why did he go from Arizona to Santa Fe for school?
• Who were his friends? Did he ever marry?
• Who influenced his painting?
• Where did he live during his life? Where did he travel?
• Did he ever return to the Navajo reservation?

Some questions were quickly answered, but we tried to verify from more than one source. Every time we found an answer to a question, we found more questions.  And we found no answers at all for some questions.

But what we did find amazed and delighted us.  We never dreamed that we would find so many people who knew Tahoma personally, or that children and nieces and nephews of people who knew him would be able to tell us stories passed down through their families.

If you continue to read these pages, you will see where we went to find answers and you will have an opportunity to help us answer more questions. And any time that YOU have a questions, please ask. We’ll be happy to try to answer.

In order to keep track of the entire journey, we encourage you to subscribe to the blog by RSS feed or by e-mail. And do tell your friends, won’t you?

When Dorothy Stevenson met the artist Quincy Tahoma, she was a young woman and he made a big impression on her. Later, as an adult, she became a teacher at St. Michael’s High School in Santa Fe and eventually wrote a musical play based loosely on Tahoma’s life.

Entitled Navajo Night Song, the musical was performed at the Greer Garson Theater at St. Michael’s school for three nights in 1977. In the play, the Tahoma-like central character was married and lost a baby son. Yet, in more than 12 years of research into Tahoma’s life, we never found evidence that he had married or had a child.

Can you shed any light on this perplexing subject? Do you know anything about the production of Navajo Night Song in 1977 in Santa Fe?

Tesuque Drive-In Theater with Mural Quincy Tahoma Painted

August 31, 2004

“History is documented with ‘personal recollections.’”

Mona Ortiz Stetina wrote that in an e-mail to Anne Cavanaugh at the Santa Fe New Mexican.

We had written an article for the New Mexican telling people a little bit about Quincy Tahoma and our project and asked for their help. Along with the article, we printed a picture loaned to us by Dan Fannell whose step father Jim Wilson was one of the many people who had befriended Tahoma. A drive-in movie had provided a giant canvas for one of Quincy’s favorite subjects—a horse being spooked by a skunk. We did not know the name of the drive-in, but had been told it stood on Cerillos Road in Santa Fe. (more…)

September 5, 2004

I grabbed the manila envelope from my husband as he walked in from the mailbox. I had eagerly looked forward to hearing the tapes of Charnell Havens interviewing Jean Wallace McSwain about dating Quincy Tahoma.

Jean evoked the Santa Fe of the 1940’s and the parties where young Anglos and young Indian artists met and talked about art and life. As Jean recounted the story of the unlikely romance of a young woman who had grown up in Connecticut and attended a private school with a Navajo who had grown up in a hogan and attended Santa Fe Indian School, Charnell asked about prosaic things like transportation. Jean said she and Quincy mostly walked around town, but sometimes he would come and pick her up in a taxi. Charnell wondered what the fare would have been, and Jean did not know for sure, but said it was cheap.

Meanwhile, back in Tucson, I had been reading Turn Left at the Sleeping Dog, John Pen La Farge’s collection of oral histories of Santa Fe. There I learned that you could take a taxi anywhere within the city limits for fifty cents. Now we can picture Quincy fishing two quarters out of his jeans pocket to pay the cab driver. You never know when a detail like the price of a taxi ride may fit into the story of a life.

Ice delivery? Milk in bottles? What detail captures your life long ago?