By Britnae Purdy
On December 29, 1890, the United States 7th Cavalry indiscriminately open fired on a band of Miniconjou and Hunkpapa Lakota near Wounded Knee Creek (Chankwe Opi Wakpala in Lakota) with two Hotchkiss guns. By the end, Chief Spotted Elk (photo above) and at least 150 Lakota men, women, and children were dead and 51 more injured. Sixty-five soldiers of the 7th Cavalry were killed or wounded, mostly due to friendly fire (yet 20 were later awarded the Medal of Honor). This was the Massacre at Wounded Knee. To the Lakota, this is sacred land stained with the blood of their ancestors. To James A. Czywczynski, the current owner of the land and a non-Indian, it is a 40 acre piece of real estate that is worth $3.9 million.
Czywczynski is hoping to capitalize on this historical value. The Lakota, who hope to purchase the land, feel that Czywcynski’s high asking price is disrespectful of their ancestors who lost their lives on the site. Czywcynski argues that the historical significance of the land has factored into his asking price; the Lakota feel that, as a non-Native, Czywcynski has no claim to that significance.
“That historical value means something to us, not to him,” says Garfield Steele, member of the tribal council that represents Wounded Knee. “We see that greed around here all the time with non-Indians. To me, you can’t put a price on the lives that were taken here.”
The land for sale does not include the Sacred Heart Cemetery or the Wounded Knee Memorial, which mark the sites where the majority of the murders took place. However, it does include the fields where the battle occurred and the historic trading post.
The land is also notable for its part in the 1973 American Indian Movement (AIM) occupation of the nearby town of Wounded Knee. Responding to complaints of a corrupt local government, 200 members of AIM occupied the town for 71 days. State and federal law enforcement officers quickly surrounded and sealed off the area. By the end of the occupation, 1,200 Indians had been arrested, 12 wounded, 2 killed, and one federal marshal was paralyzed by a gunshot.
Czywczynski was able to purchased the land in 1968 because after the 1890 battle, the government to the land around Wounded Knee out of Indian control and auctioned or apportioned it to settlers. He lived there and ran the town trading post until he was forced to leave during the 1973 AIM occupation. His home and trading post were destroyed during the occupation, which he says he factored into the high asking price for the land. Czywcznski has made it clear that he has several non-Indian buyers who are interested in the land, but he is giving the Lakota until May 1 to purchase it before placing it on the open market. However, the $3.9 million price tag makes it highly unlikely that the tribe, which is currently $60 million in debt, will be able to buy it. 53.5 percent of the tribe’s residents live below the poverty line, and three-quarters of them are unemployed or unable to work.
Czywczynski says that he “would really like to see the land returned to the Lakota people,” but that his attempts to sell the land back to them over the past couple of years have not been successful due to the tribe’s internal discord. “They could never agree on anything,” he says. “They either didn’t have the money; some wanted it, some didn’t want it, it was too high, too low. I’ve come to the conclusion now, at my age, I’m 74 years old, I’m going to sell the property.”
Different members of the Lakota have different opinions on the issue. “Whenever we discuss this Wounded Knee massacre topic, it takes us into a deep, deep, psychological state because we have to relive the whole horror. Anything that might indicate that as descendants we’re profiting from our ancestors’ tragedy – we can’t ever do that,” says Nathan Blindman, descendent of several of those killed in the 1890 incident.
Others say that the land can be developed respectfully, and that the impoverished tribe should take advantage of any opportunity to improve the quality of life of their members.
“That was yesterday; tomorrow is going to be tomorrow,” says Lillian Red Star Fire Thunder, a 79-year-old resident of Wounded Knee whose ancestors survived the massacre. “They should think about the future for the children, the families.”