Though written in 1970 as a major contribution to the revisionist history of native tribes in the U.S., it has been updated at late as 1983 and remains a very thorough history and distrurbing but nonetheless fascinating book to read.

This book is so typical of Angie Debo, well written, factual, and so full of feeling for the subject, that one often feels you are taking part in the events descibed in the book.

A very useful "general history" of Native Americans

I sought a panoramic view of Native American history and found it in this volume. Dr. Debo's writing is lucid and captivating. She is expert in the history of the Five Civilized Tribes but demonstrates her passion for all of Native American history in her superb coverage of other tribes.

This book is not for everyone, but if you have a real interest in the history & culture of the Native Americans of the Southern U.S.(especially Mississippi)you ought to take a look. Cushman's first hand knowledge particularly of the Choctaws is extensive. Reading this will give you a better understanding and respect of a culture that deserved more inclusion in American History. Many of the legends and historical events are fascinating and are little known. It also helps to clear up some fallacies about all three tribes. Cushman does pontificate and ramble through much of this book, even though it is abridged specifically to eliminate much of this.There are some inaccuracies as well but all in all it is fascinating and may be the most accurate and detailed history of these people.

This biography truly reveals the man behind the myth. Geronimo has had a reputation as either a bloodthirsty, pitiless scalp hunter (the conservative view), or as a divinely-guided leader trying desperately to save his people from destruction (the romantic view). Both of these are partially correct, but neither gives any indication of Geronimo as a human being, and that's what Debo does ably in this book. Debo compiles all the information available to give an impressively detailed portrait of the man's life, and uncovers many aspects of his personality, both good and bad. So we get the predicted praise for his bravery and honesty; but the author is not afraid to criticize his ill temper, vindictiveness, and lack of eloquence.

While the focus remains on Geronimo himself, this book also serves as an informative history of the final days of Apache independence. Many interesting characters are covered in a good amount of detail when Geronimo is absent from the narrative, like Victorio, Loco, Chihuahua, Kaywaykla, Naiche (my personal favorite) and even the white generals Crook and Howard. There is ample coverage of the tribe's post-glory days when they were imprisoned on various disagreeable reservations, and the depressing consequences of the loss of their culture and the deaths of many tribe members from disease. The only flaws in this book are Debo's criticism of previous information sources as inaccurate (they were, but the author's criticism is often arrogant), and a rather sappy, overly sentimental writing style.

Ms. Debo has presented a complete analysis of the man Geronimo, from both sides of the Apache conflict. She deals with the prejedice of the day as well as the myths and legends of the time. I was well informed by her conclusions and believe the concepts she presented were both truthful and informative.

Angie Debo, now recognized as one of the finest historians of Native Americans, was inducted into the Oklahoma Historians Hall of Fame in 1993 for her outstanding work, five years after her death. This recognition, however, came after a long career in which Debo initially struggled against the establishment in her efforts to bring to light the plight of Native Americans in the West, particularly with regard to the ill treatment they received from land and resource hungry settlers. And Still the Waters Run, her study of the Five Civilized Nations in Oklahoma in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, provoked controversy among her colleagues and critics, and was published not by the University of Oklahoma Press, which refused to honor its agreement to print it, but by Princeton. This tale of the machinations of whites to defraud Native Americans and the theft of Indian property, with the many difficulties it engendered, is still in print six decades later.
Simply put, And Still the Waters Run is the story of the process by which whites, in the forms of government officials and individuals hungry for land, oil and coal, dispossessed Native Americans in Oklahoma of their wealth "by the legislative enactment and court decree...and the lease, mortgage and deed of the land shark." (vii) This method, begun in the late 1880s, contrasted with former battles between the United States and the Indians, in which military might typically concluded all conflicts in the American West. Instead, Debo argues that Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, Seminoles and Creeks lost their land, minerals, coal and oil through broken treaties, allotment and fraud.
Depo depicts the Five Tribes in Oklahoma in the late nineteenth century as being firmly established in the new territory after the trauma of the 1830s removals. The Indians were determined to resist further encroachments and contentions with whites, particularly with regard to land ownership. This was not meant to be. Debo describes a process by which whites forced treaties and congressional legislation (especially the Dawes Act of 1887) upon the various tribes in order to facilitate the expropriation of Indian lands and associated natural resources. Loss of land was accompanied by "the surrender of tribal institutions," (31) namely collective land holding and native councils. Tribal regimes, Debo contends, were liquidated to facilitate the division of land among Indians, which in turn eased the process by which whites were able to purchase it. Although she concedes that many government officials genuinely attempted to protect individual Indian allottees, "the general effect of allotment was an orgy of plunder and exploitation probably unparalled in American history." (91)
Debo goes on to detail the ineffectual government guardianship of Indian assets, and the immense graft on the part of "a horde of despoilers." (92) This period brought poverty and abject despair to Native peoples in Oklahoma, victims of swindlers and government bureaucrats alike. Some relief was realized upon Oklahoma statehood and various federal laws in the early 20th century, as well as through "a tangle of litigation." (203) Nevertheless, Debo paints a bleak picture of the rapaciousness of whites, ineptitude among civil leaders responsible for Indian protection and helplessness of overpowered Indians.
And Still the Waters Run is remarkable for the depth of its research, no less so because it was written in the 1930s by a woman without an academic position. It is well-documented with a variety of sources including government papers, personal interviews, newspapers and manuscripts. Nevertheless, despite the passion Debo felt for the injustices done to her subject tribes, her book suffers from dry prose and a plodding narrative. Debo seems to describe every rule and regulation imposed on the tribes, and describes complex litigation in such detail that readers can easily lose sight of her overall theme. Her painstaking trek through years of Indian misfortunes, while important to our understanding of western U.S. history, is unfortunately regrettably monotonous.

I have read this book twice--one around 1990 and again a year or so ago. It's not an easy read as the text is a bit dry and pedantic. (I think her later books are easier to read.)

Debo's conclusions, based on extensive research, are at times sweeping and fleeting--at least in the sense of trying to assess how widespread or damaging a practice was.

That said, Debo's book is without peer in chronicling the theft of Indian land, coal, oil, and timber by mostly white citizens. Most despicable was the taking from the children and the very elderly--the first lacking majority and the second, literacy.

Debo frequently hits on federal vs. state rights and responsibilities. The feds were unhappy with the seemingly small amount of protection being afforded the Indians. The leaders of Oklahoma, a new state, said the state could take care of the so-called "Indian problem." And the state did. But the solution promised bore little resemblance to the solution delivered.

In part due to her documentation of these leaders and what they did, the University of Oklahoma Press refused to print the book, a job that, as best as I can recall, migrated east to Princeton University.

Angie really tells it like it was. She uncovered all of the horrable truths from the basement of the Interior. This book tells all about what they wouldn't teach in school, and the government cover-ups. I recommend this book to everyone who is interested in the truth.

The same guys who were afraid of Virginia Woolf, that's who. Shirley Leckie has written a fine biography in the conservative biography tradition. It is published by the same press that gave Angie Debo the runaround back when she was doubting her own significance as a writer in mid-career. When she was in despair. Published by the same university, who, in the heyday of history department chauvinism, chose to groom and tenure by far less accomplished male scholars rather than to throw a crumb to Miss Debo, the one whose work would be of supreme importance. Leckie's version of the story is balanced in tone, raking no muck and slinging no mud, but the truth comes glimmering through, even so. Handled especially well is the relationship Debo shared with her mentor, Dale. He might have actually been a two-faced jerk who wouldn't have rescued her or her manuscripts from a criminal Faulkner fire. Leckie veers away from harsh judgement and leaves it to the reader to decide how much he really cared. Many things come to mind from reading this insightful book, especially the fact that men who ran history departments could get by with a lot of crap, like promoting their publish-nothing buddies while placing one of the century's outstanding and memorable historians such as Debo on the back burner. Is there any doubt that she may have scorched back there? Angie Debo was the last of the old maids in many respects. Never married, never encouraged flirtation. Lived with and lived for her mother in the little town of Marshall. Pretty much given the cold shoulder by the universities during her 30s and 40s. Finally, in her fifties, the Old Boys loosened up a little. Leckie does make it clear that Debo was more of a lone wolf than a team player, especially when the team-players were a little thick. And yeah, I guess I wanted more from a bio, wanted Debo to be more than an old maid, jilted by the academic system, as far as personal relationships go. Perhaps if the biographer had focused upon the truly intense relationship Angie Debo had for her own writing and research of the Creeks and Choctaw tribes, the drama of the bio would have been heightened. When the life and the work is one and the same, as it was with Debo, the life had to have higher highs and lower lows. I think her early childhood illnesses which nearly killed her probably altered her ways that the biographer did not explore. Maybe the Debo soup was actually a little thicker than that which has been served here. The biographer chose to be choosy, to write a tasteful and conservative assessment of a life. Maybe Miss Debo wouldn't want anymore said than that. Could it be I suffer from some kind of popular misconception about the life of such a significant writer, believing like Dolly Pardon, who said: "Some people think less is more, but I say more is more"?

This is a good book to learn about the Choctaw tribe from the early spanish that first meet them to the point that they are moved to the indian lands in OK. I recommend it for anyone that wants to learn more about the history and culture of the Choctaw People.