Dennis Wagner
The Arizona Republic
Nov. 12, 2006 12:00 AM
Rodney Tidwell sits at the living room table of his suburban home in Mesa, wearing a tank-top and reflecting on his lifelong career as a digger and trader of Native American artifacts.
He admits being caught many times on government lands and Indian reservations while unearthing Indian ruins.
He describes his years traveling from village to village, buying tribal heirlooms and antiquities.
He talks of his years in prison for dealing in stolen Indian artifacts.
Still robust at 64 years old, gravel-voiced, a family man quick with laughter, he defends himself. "I am not the big, bad wolf. In all my dealings, I never bought or sold any stolen items."
Now a maintenance supervisor at an RV park, Tidwell frets aloud that by going public he will incur the government's wrath again. But there are things that need to be said.
Native Americans have been trading their wares with Whites since the first explorers hit North America, Tidwell begins, and they are still doing so in posh galleries and at roadside stands. He argues that statutes prohibiting Indians from selling religious and ceremonial objects violate the property rights of tribal members.
"The word is not looting," he insists. "It's digging. We excavate. We all had collections. . . . I've read lots and lots of books on it. It's history. We weren't looting the ruins. What we found we cleaned up and showed. I had a pot published in National Geographic."
While much of the work was done legally on private property, Tidwell admits he frequently broke the law by digging on public lands or in burial mounds. But he also has an explanation for that: "If you find a big fish under a rock, that's where you're going to fish."
Mystery death
Thomas Dawson Boone couldn't handle the guilt.
After stealing and selling religious masks from his Zuni tribe in the early 1990s, he went to authorities and confessed. Boone said he'd been doing business with a White man from Arizona named Rodney Phillip Tidwell. Law enforcement agents knew of Tidwell from previous dealings. He had been caught, cited and fined about a half-dozen times at ruins in Arizona and New Mexico. Dealing in artifacts was his livelihood and had been since his early 20s. With no other known occupation, he had a house near Payson on the market for $640,000.
Boone told John Fryar, a criminal investigator for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, that Tidwell operated as a "doorknocker," visiting remote hogans and reservation homes throughout Arizona and New Mexico. The tactic was reminiscent of Great Plains rumrunners who traded firewater to Indians for buffalo robes. Tidwell would bring gifts. He'd buy ice cream for the children. He'd offer to pay cash for old baskets, pottery, clothing, jewelry, masks and dolls.
Arguably, everyone came out ahead: Poor Indians got spending money. The doorknocker profited. Collectors wound up with rare and beautiful objects.
But, for many Native Americans, selling religious relics amounts to cultural betrayal, spiritual death. In many cases, when the objects have religious or ceremonial properties, selling them also violates the law. Boone told Fryar he could not sleep at night. The masks were talking to him, asking to go home. So Boone agreed to go undercover.
In October 1992, while BIA agents watched, Boone sold a mask to Tidwell, who was arrested on felony charges. Investigators searched Tidwell's home and found more artifacts, plus eagle feathers and frozen migratory birds used for trade with Indians.
When Boone's shame became public, he fell ill. According to Fryar, Zunis saw the sickness as a sort of curse from the Creator and refused to sing healing songs. Boone passed away.
With the government's key witness dead, Tidwell pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges. His written statement to the U.S. District Court in New Mexico acknowledged "that what I did was coming out of greed and seeing the masks as sort of a prize to be obtained rather than something which is important to other people for spiritual reasons."
Tidwell was fined $10,000 and got three years probation.
It was no deterrent.
Six months later, he sold a Hopi mask to BIA investigator John Fryar, who was posing as an artifact collector.
Acoma vestments
Working undercover, Fryar "became" a protégé to Tidwell. He says Tidwell targeted alcoholics, cutting deals with an undisguised contempt for Native Americans.
"He was in it purely for the money," Fryar says. "I think he felt they were dumb, and he knew how to twist and turn them. He'd bring toys for the kids.
Tidwell sold Fryar Catholic liturgical vestments from Acoma Pueblo, New Mexico. A pink chasuble dated to 1760. Other vestments bore stains that Tidwell claimed were blood splatters from priests killed when the tribe revolted against Spanish rule in 1680.
Fryar bought the items for $3,000. Two Acoma women, members of the Altar Society, later testified that they sold the vestments to Tidwell for $300 because they needed money to buy groceries.
Tidwell also came up with masks from a Hopi, Ernest Wendell Chapella.
In November 1996, Fryar was in Tidwell's home near Payson when investigators arrived with a search warrant. Tidwell went into a panic, trying to hide artifacts. Seconds later, Fryar says, Tidwell realized Fryar was an undercover agent and "he threatened to blow my head off."
Investigators found a looter's scrapbook in the house. There were records of his run-ins with the law, and pictures of Tidwell in a ruin holding a skull.
Chapella was convicted in Hopi tribal court. Condemned, shamed and still facing federal charges, he shot and killed himself. A note to family members explained that he ended his life to protect them from vindictive spirits: "This way nobody will bother you guys."
After prison
Tidwell was found guilty on 20 felony counts of stealing and selling Native American robes, vestments and other liturgical items. He served a 33-month prison sentence and completed probation.
Tidwell says he quit the excavation business years ago after his truck was confiscated. He continued roaming Indian reservations of the West, buying artifacts. But he insists that he respected Native Americans as friends and flatly rejects Fryar's characterizations. He also denies threatening Fryar.
"I did not take Indians booze for them to sell me things. I never felt they were dumb. I enjoyed dealing with them. It was the greatest job I ever had. I was not taking advantage of them. I was buying things they wanted to sell."
After prison, Tidwell says, he quit dealing in artifacts. He still wears a silver watchband embedded with turquoise. A few baskets and pots decorate his home, remnants of a grand collection.
In March, an Apache ranger patrolling near San Carlos Reservoir came upon three people on tribal lands without permits. One of them was Rodney Tidwell. He was cited for trespassing but persuaded a tribal judge to reduce the fine from $160 to $50.
Tidwell says he wasn't after artifacts. He was just checking the lake to see if fish were biting.
The Arizona Republic
Nov. 12, 2006 12:00 AM
Rodney Tidwell sits at the living room table of his suburban home in Mesa, wearing a tank-top and reflecting on his lifelong career as a digger and trader of Native American artifacts.
He admits being caught many times on government lands and Indian reservations while unearthing Indian ruins.
He describes his years traveling from village to village, buying tribal heirlooms and antiquities.
He talks of his years in prison for dealing in stolen Indian artifacts.
Still robust at 64 years old, gravel-voiced, a family man quick with laughter, he defends himself. "I am not the big, bad wolf. In all my dealings, I never bought or sold any stolen items."
Now a maintenance supervisor at an RV park, Tidwell frets aloud that by going public he will incur the government's wrath again. But there are things that need to be said.
Native Americans have been trading their wares with Whites since the first explorers hit North America, Tidwell begins, and they are still doing so in posh galleries and at roadside stands. He argues that statutes prohibiting Indians from selling religious and ceremonial objects violate the property rights of tribal members.
"The word is not looting," he insists. "It's digging. We excavate. We all had collections. . . . I've read lots and lots of books on it. It's history. We weren't looting the ruins. What we found we cleaned up and showed. I had a pot published in National Geographic."
While much of the work was done legally on private property, Tidwell admits he frequently broke the law by digging on public lands or in burial mounds. But he also has an explanation for that: "If you find a big fish under a rock, that's where you're going to fish."
Mystery death
Thomas Dawson Boone couldn't handle the guilt.
After stealing and selling religious masks from his Zuni tribe in the early 1990s, he went to authorities and confessed. Boone said he'd been doing business with a White man from Arizona named Rodney Phillip Tidwell. Law enforcement agents knew of Tidwell from previous dealings. He had been caught, cited and fined about a half-dozen times at ruins in Arizona and New Mexico. Dealing in artifacts was his livelihood and had been since his early 20s. With no other known occupation, he had a house near Payson on the market for $640,000.
Boone told John Fryar, a criminal investigator for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, that Tidwell operated as a "doorknocker," visiting remote hogans and reservation homes throughout Arizona and New Mexico. The tactic was reminiscent of Great Plains rumrunners who traded firewater to Indians for buffalo robes. Tidwell would bring gifts. He'd buy ice cream for the children. He'd offer to pay cash for old baskets, pottery, clothing, jewelry, masks and dolls.
Arguably, everyone came out ahead: Poor Indians got spending money. The doorknocker profited. Collectors wound up with rare and beautiful objects.
But, for many Native Americans, selling religious relics amounts to cultural betrayal, spiritual death. In many cases, when the objects have religious or ceremonial properties, selling them also violates the law. Boone told Fryar he could not sleep at night. The masks were talking to him, asking to go home. So Boone agreed to go undercover.
In October 1992, while BIA agents watched, Boone sold a mask to Tidwell, who was arrested on felony charges. Investigators searched Tidwell's home and found more artifacts, plus eagle feathers and frozen migratory birds used for trade with Indians.
When Boone's shame became public, he fell ill. According to Fryar, Zunis saw the sickness as a sort of curse from the Creator and refused to sing healing songs. Boone passed away.
With the government's key witness dead, Tidwell pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges. His written statement to the U.S. District Court in New Mexico acknowledged "that what I did was coming out of greed and seeing the masks as sort of a prize to be obtained rather than something which is important to other people for spiritual reasons."
Tidwell was fined $10,000 and got three years probation.
It was no deterrent.
Six months later, he sold a Hopi mask to BIA investigator John Fryar, who was posing as an artifact collector.
Acoma vestments
Working undercover, Fryar "became" a protégé to Tidwell. He says Tidwell targeted alcoholics, cutting deals with an undisguised contempt for Native Americans.
"He was in it purely for the money," Fryar says. "I think he felt they were dumb, and he knew how to twist and turn them. He'd bring toys for the kids.
Tidwell sold Fryar Catholic liturgical vestments from Acoma Pueblo, New Mexico. A pink chasuble dated to 1760. Other vestments bore stains that Tidwell claimed were blood splatters from priests killed when the tribe revolted against Spanish rule in 1680.
Fryar bought the items for $3,000. Two Acoma women, members of the Altar Society, later testified that they sold the vestments to Tidwell for $300 because they needed money to buy groceries.
Tidwell also came up with masks from a Hopi, Ernest Wendell Chapella.
In November 1996, Fryar was in Tidwell's home near Payson when investigators arrived with a search warrant. Tidwell went into a panic, trying to hide artifacts. Seconds later, Fryar says, Tidwell realized Fryar was an undercover agent and "he threatened to blow my head off."
Investigators found a looter's scrapbook in the house. There were records of his run-ins with the law, and pictures of Tidwell in a ruin holding a skull.
Chapella was convicted in Hopi tribal court. Condemned, shamed and still facing federal charges, he shot and killed himself. A note to family members explained that he ended his life to protect them from vindictive spirits: "This way nobody will bother you guys."
After prison
Tidwell was found guilty on 20 felony counts of stealing and selling Native American robes, vestments and other liturgical items. He served a 33-month prison sentence and completed probation.
Tidwell says he quit the excavation business years ago after his truck was confiscated. He continued roaming Indian reservations of the West, buying artifacts. But he insists that he respected Native Americans as friends and flatly rejects Fryar's characterizations. He also denies threatening Fryar.
"I did not take Indians booze for them to sell me things. I never felt they were dumb. I enjoyed dealing with them. It was the greatest job I ever had. I was not taking advantage of them. I was buying things they wanted to sell."
After prison, Tidwell says, he quit dealing in artifacts. He still wears a silver watchband embedded with turquoise. A few baskets and pots decorate his home, remnants of a grand collection.
In March, an Apache ranger patrolling near San Carlos Reservoir came upon three people on tribal lands without permits. One of them was Rodney Tidwell. He was cited for trespassing but persuaded a tribal judge to reduce the fine from $160 to $50.
Tidwell says he wasn't after artifacts. He was just checking the lake to see if fish were biting.