Foster Charles/Charlie Foster. . . .

In several of my stories I have written about Foster Charles, also
called Charlie Foster. He was the Indian Chief who was a good friend
of Dad's. He and his tribe came to Panaca each year when it was time
to harvest the pine nuts from the Pinon Pine trees that grew in great
profusion on the Panaca summit.

Several months ago, in an e-mail, Bruce asked me if I knew what had
happened to the Indian Chief that was Dad's good friend. I wrote Leo
hoping that he could tell me some of the history of Charlie. I received
an answer from him with the following information:

In the 1870's, the Utes, including Paiutes and Chivwits, had decided
to start another war against the whites that were taking over Utah,
Southern Idaho, Northern Arizona, and Eastern Nevada. The wars
of the 1850s and 1860s were still fresh in memory, but the Indians
had not really been beaten. Although they could not get a real
movement going, it looked like they were going to try again. A minor
war chief went to our Great Grandfather Terry and to our Great
Uncle, Charles Foster. These two men had married sisters, aunts of
our grandmother, Eliza Jane Terry Wadsworth. The chief told the
two men that he had to answer the call. At that time, honor to the
Indians meant more than to many whites.

The chief stated that he knew it was a losing cause and that the anger
would be such that he was afraid for his family. He wanted those two
good friends of his to take his two children and raise them as their own.

Uncle Charlie had not the large growing family that Thomas Sirls had,
so he took both of them. It was necessary that they be given white
people's names. He reversed the names of him and his wife. Using
those names, he had the children baptized and sent them to school.
They evidently were good students. Uncle Charlie sent them to the
BYU Academy. The way I remember it, after one year the girl
returned home, "back to the blanket", and married. Foster remained
at school for two years in Provo. He stayed very strong in the
church. When he was in Panaca, he never missed attending.
He looked upon Granddad Nephi as a cousin.

After granddad died, Foster continued to bring his family to Panaca
each year as soon as school was out in the St. George area. His three
older sons worked for some of the men in Panaca, mostly for Dad
and his brother, Uncle Frank.

Through the government in Washington D.C., the Bureau of Indian
Affairs and the Department of Interior had been in charge of building
houses for the Navaho's and Hopis in Arizona and New Mexico.
Several clusters of small, square cement homes were built on the
Chivwits Reservation west of Santa Clara, Utah. But rather than
the Indians falling on their knees in thanksgiving, as had been
expected by the government, most of them were not interested.
In the beginning, government representatives selected "leaders"
from the Indians to contribute their thoughts and ideas on the
venture. Accord was never reached between our government
and the Indians. Due to that, and the lack of interest by the Indians,
most of the houses were never lived in and fell into ruin.

Foster with a better than average education, his father's status
in the Indian Nation, influence in politics because of his
foster families, and because the three Indian tribes trusted him,
had been chosen to be a leader. Figuratively though, like his
sister, he "went back to the blanket". Besides seeing him when he
came to Panaca with his tribe, Dad went through the reservation
fairly often to see him and thus remained in touch.

Leo said he doesn't remember Foster coming to Panaca after 1935.
He clarified that year with a ?, meaning he is not sure of the year.
I think Charlie had to have returned into the late 1930s as I have
vivid memories of him and his tribe together on the porch of the
Wadsworth store on several occasions. I remember how nice they
all were to me because I was James' daughter. I also have vivid
memories of playing with one of the little Indian girls who was my
age. If they quit coming in 1935, I would have only been four years
old and I don't think my memories would be so strong and clear.

Leo said Peter, Charlie's (Foster's) youngest son and he, were
good friends. After the tribe quit coming to Panaca, Leo said he
would see Peter once-in-a-while at horse race meets and rodeos.
He was always very friendly and happy to see Leo, but outside of
that, he didn't seem to want to socialize

Anther point of interest is that the second husband of our second
cousin Nell Wadsworth, was Charlie Foster's youngest son.
Leo said he had some good visits with him at Wadsworth and
Stewart reunions in the Las Vegas area where they lived. He
said he has often wondered why this man didn't keep track of the
Foster Charles family as that family meant so much to Uncle
Charles Foster.

I hope the Foster Charles/Charlie Foster references in this story
are not totally confusing to you. Our family always referred to him
as Charlie Foster rather than Foster Charles.

Charlie and his tribe were an important part of my childhood. I
loved it when they would assemble at the Wadsworth store. I
was fascinated with their gentle nature, the sound of their soft
conversation in their own language. I loved the vivid colors in
their clothes, the women's long dresses, the ribbons and beads
braided into the little girls hair, and the haircuts the men and
boys sported. I was enthralled with the papooses sleeping in
their beautiful cradle boards.

Thank you, Leo, for this wonderful information. I would love to
know where Charlie is buried. I am sure it is in the St. George
Santa Clara area. I am going to do some research on this.

I'm Back. . . .

I can't believe it has been six months since I last posted. The first
problem was an inability to post pictures. I didn't want to post my
stories without the pictures that go with them. I still haven't
solved the problem. We are working on it and hope to solve it
soon. For now, I will write stories that will not be posted with
pictures. The second problem is that I got sick. It has been a
longer recovery than I expected and I have not been able to
focus.


Thank you for your patience. I haven't forgotten all of my loyal
followers and I hope you haven't forgotten me.