The Stories We Tell: On Place Names and Naming Places

"Tell me how you call a place, and I will tell who you are and what is important to you." -- Alon Raab 

     Last week I went to the Cottage Grove Library to work on my article about human agency and the wilderness myth. As I was reading about the ways that the concepts of wilderness and land preservation were used as pretexts to forcibly remove indigenous people from the homelands throughout the United States and elsewhere, I looked up from my work to notice a new display. The poster described how the Row River, one of the main waterways in Cottage Grove that flows into the Coast Fork Willamette River, got its name. I'd always heard that the name is pronounced "row" so as to rhyme with how or now, rather than as one might imagine its pronunciation, and how I did when I first moved to the area - "row" as in "row, row, row your boat." I never really gave it much thought though, just figured it was some anomaly of the English language. Of course, in thinking this, I'd acknowledged that the "official" names of so many places in the US are known by what the colonial powers deemed them. l imagined that the Row river likely had a name before it was called "Row," a name given and used by the indigenous people in the area, but I'd never heard what it was.

A lovely stretch of the Row River east of Cottage Grove, OR

     As I read about the Row River, I came to learn that the river is named after an altercation between two white settlers that occurred in 1861. One man killed another man in a "row," or fight, and the whole river was named after that event. The interpretive sign helpfully pointed out that no record exists for the indigenous name of the river. I was amazed, and not in a good way. To think that thousands of years of history in just this one place have apparently been completely lost, and all we have to commemorate our localized knowledge of a place is a fight between two people over a hundred years ago? I mean I'm sure that event was tragic, but does it really warrant naming an entire waterway after? Isn't there anything more interesting, more relevant to local knowledge, to ascribe to a major source of life and livelihood in the region? It seems absurd, but then again you see it everywhere if you start to look.

    Cottage Grove is particularly rife with this kind of erasure, and even celebrates it in the kinds of things that are a source of civic pride (for some). An example - the town is known for its numerous murals, and almost every single one of them celebrates settler colonialism and the resource extraction they practice(d). Logging, mining, more logging, more mining, Buster Keaton on a train, two Coca-Cola murals, an old west scene of the town as it may have looked in the early 20th century. A lovely depiction of the local landscape overlaid with a giant American flag. Some wooden airplanes. The lovely covered bridges that cross the local waterways made it possible for horses and wagons to cross rivers in order to log the upland forests and "settle" the newly available lands upriver in the wake of the Homestead Act. 

Painting the history of Cottage Grove with oxen and covered bridges...isn't there a bit more to the story?

Depiction of an idealized downtown...idealized to some people at least

 American flag emblazoned on the landscape...this picture says a lot!

    There are also a couple of more interesting murals in town, including one of Opal Whitely, a child of an early settler family in Cottage Grove who found acclaim with her mystical writings on nature connection. 

Opal Whitely mural

    There's also a new one sponsored by the Center for Biological Diversity showing the endangered Taylor's Checkerspot Butterfly. Sadly, even its story is related to colonization - the Checkerspot's lowland prairie habitat was among the first to be plowed under as European-style annual agriculture took over the rich valley bottomlands in the Willamette Valley, now there is very little left - but there is a beautiful mural in Cottage Grove reminding us all of its presence and importance to our lives.

Taylor's Checkerspot Butterfly mural

   Besides the murals, the majority of landmarks in this area have "official" names that are also based on the short history of colonial settlement in the United States and Oregon in particular. I live on Calico Creek, across the valley is Muslin Creek. Both of these flow into Silk Creek. These waterways are named after bolts of fabric that were commonly purchased by homesteaders around the time that this land was taken from indigenous people and given (for free in many cases) to white settlers. There are other creeks in the area - Mosby Creek, Wilson Creek, Walker Creek, Bennett Creek. Who were Mosby, Wilson, Walker, and Bennett? I'll probably never know, and honestly it probably has little bearing on any significant knowledge about the landscape history, features, or ecological processes that would be important to understand about an area. Also nearby are lakes named Odell, Waldo, and Hosmer. Mountains with names known as  Bachelor, Washington, Baker, Adams, Hood, Rainier, Jefferson, McLoughlin, and St. Helens.  Who were all of these people and why do they matter here, in this place? Honestly, I'm not that interested in finding out, as these names have little to no information to provide about the ecosystem, the context, the history, or the stories that these places hold. Yet they continue to be repeated over and over, loudly declaring the importance of long-dead people, many of whom never set foot near any of these places. 

  Take for example Mount Jefferson. Lewis and Clark named this mountain after Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the nascent United States and architect of the expedition that cast a hopeful eye toward westward expansion of the country. Jefferson certainly is an important character to know about in terms of US history, but he never came to Oregon, never saw the mountain that holds his name. Thomas Jefferson was also a slave owner (he "owned" over 600 slaves during his lifetime and freed only 7), and directly profited off of the displacement of indigenous people to inherit his 5,000 acre estate. By the time he was born in 1743, populations of Powhatan, Monacan, Saponi, Tutelo, Meherrin, and other nations had been decimated by disease, displacement, and warfare with white settlers. There are also 10 other Mount Jeffersons in other states, and 2 Jefferson Mountains. If we agree with the quote at the start of this post, then it is clear that by our naming of these mountains, we are holding dear the very things that Jefferson embodied. This disconnection from place and celebration of figureheads matters in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

    I'm more interested in considering how names inform a relationship with understanding a landscape, something that is sorely missing from many official names and commonly repeated histories. That's one reason that learning about indigenous place names is an important factor for creating deep and meaningful connections with local landscapes. There are some indigenous names that have persisted in the modern context of Oregon's statehood - the Luckiamute River north of Corvallis, the Siuslaw and Coos Rivers on the coast, as well as the Umpqua and Clackamas Rivers. The Willamette River's name is an anglicized version of Whilamut, a Kalapuya word meaning "where the river ripples and runs fast." This name and its definition is important, as it provides useful and relevant information for people living near and interacting with this landscape. Its not named after a long dead person or a random event, it gives a context and relational knowledge that is based in an actual place. Indigenous names are known and used for many local landmarks - Mt. Hood is Wy'east. Mt. Adams is Pahtoe or Klickitat. Mt. Baker is Kulshan. Mt. Jefferson is Seekseekqua or Kuassal Teminbi. Mt. McLoughlin is M'laiksini Yaina. Mt. Rainier is Tahoma or Tacoma. Mt. St. Helens is Loowit or Louwala-Clough. The Cascade Range itself is called Yamakiasham Yaina.

Seekseekqua or Kuassal Teminbi - officially named Mt. Jefferson by Lewis and Clark

    Each of these names is associated with a story, and each of the stories relates important information about the land itself. Below is an excerpt of an oral history describing the origin of several Cascade peaks and landscape features.

"The mountains were once people, our grandfathers used to tell us.  Mount Adams, north of the Columbia, and Mount Hood, south of it, became  jealous of each other because of some girl. So they started quarreling  and fighting. At that time there was a bridge across the river, and the  two rivals would cross it to fight. Sometimes they fought on one side of  the Columbia, sometimes on the other. Coyote tried to stop their  quarreling, but they would not stop.

So all the other mountain peaks agreed to help  him. From away down in the Klamath Marsh country they marched north for a  big council meeting. They planned to cross the Columbia on the bridge  and have the meeting north of the river. The Three Sisters marched with  the mountain people, and so did Black Butte and her husband.

Black Butte carried on her back a big bag of  roots and berries, for food along the way. Her husband carried a deer over his shoulder, so that they would have meat on their journey. One  day the sun was so hot and the bag was so heavy that Black Butte sat  down to rest. Her husband was annoyed and lay down, pouting. Black Butte  was very tired. She was so warm that sweat ran down her face and sides  in streams. Those creeks came together below her and formed the Metolius  River.

But Coyote did not wait for the help of the  mountain people. Mount Adams and Mount Hood were going to have a  wrestling match, and Coyote knew that it would turn into a fight. So he  made up his mind to keep the two men apart. He wished the bridge to  fall, and the bridge fell. Mount Adams could not cross over.

When the mountain people heard that Coyote had  broken down the bridge, they stopped marching. They stayed just where  they were, and later were given new mountain names. They stopped where  they are today-Mount Jefferson, the Three Sisters, Mount Washington, and  all the others.

Black Butte and her husband were still resting when the bridge fell, and they  stayed there at the head of the Metolius River. Green Ridge, the  husband, still lies there pouting. There are plenty of deer on Green  Ridge. The plants and seeds Black Butte carried took root. We still go  there to dig bitterroot, kouse, Indian potato, and looksch, and to  gather huckleberries, service berries, little blueberries, and pine  nuts. Almost all the plant foods Indians like grow on Black Butte."

-- Oral history excerpted from Ella E. Clark, editor, Indian Legends of the Pacific Northwest, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1953, pp 12-13

   Though the excerpt above uses the "official" names, its clear that there are important pieces of information contained within the stories of these mountains. The ecological knowledge contained within these stories is also important, as it provides a context for a human relationship of stewardship of and inclusion within the landscape. These are the kinds of stories we need to be able to embody a culture of care and responsibility for the landscapes we inhabit. We need to move beyond

   There are some hopeful movements in this regard. The federal government officially renamed Mount McKinley in Alaska to its indigenous name of Denali in 2015. It was named McKinley in 1896 by a gold prospector who learned that William McKinley, a defender of the gold standard, had been nominated as a presidential candidate. McKinley also oversaw the imperialist takeovers and "possession" of Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines by the United States. The fact that the mountain was officially named by a random gold prospector hoping to strike it rich by naming a mountain after someone aligned with his interests who also contributed to the colonization of sovereign states to serve US interests tells a powerful story of what kinds of names and stories are celebrated and deemed important. In contrast, Denali is a central feature of the Tena creation story, in which the mountain is created by Yako to deflect the massive waves created by Totson the Raven Clan chief as he pursues Yako and his new wife in an epic canoe chase. Yako throws a rock to calm the waves, and Denali is born. Yako and his wife go on to be the progenitors of the Tena people. Here is a link to an audio recording of the late Chief Mitch Demientieff of Nenana, Alaska reading an Athabascan story about the origins of Denali. Its interesting to note that within this creation story there are important elements of ecological knowledge - the creation of mountains, and a time of large waves reaching far inland - these are both important features of Alaska's geologic history and contemporary conditions. And I would argue much more important to understand than a long-dead US president interested in gold and conquest.

   Place names have meaning and assign value in ways we may not even be aware of. The land around us calls out for us to be in relationship with it, and connecting to the unique features of our home ecosystems by relating to them in real ways helps to enhance this potential. Start by learning the indigenous names of rivers, lakes, mountains, and meadows, and seek out the stories that inform them. David Lewis, PhD, has started a list of several in Oregon - here is a link to his website with more information (also please consider donating to support his work).

   Sometimes, as in the case of the Row River, the indigenous names appear to have been lost, and in many cases its likely that the indigenous place names were not considered important and therefore not recorded at the time of colonization and conquest. In some cases, indigenous place names remain in popular use, and finding out the stories behind them also provide interesting historic ecological and social information. For example, Minnesota means "sky-tinted water" in the Sioux language, and the Lenni Lenape referred to Manhattan as the "island of many hills."

   In any case, its critical to consider how bringing these stories and relational names back into popular usage are important, not only to honor and include indigenous people as part of history (as in the case with Cottage Grove, where not a single mural contains a depiction of an indigenous person and most "historical" resources include a passing reference if any to indigenous people), but to inform a more reciprocal relationship with contemporary ecosystems. We need to have grounding in a sense of place that's not based on celebrating people and events that are irrelevant at best to the tasks at hand, and on a deeper level offensive and promoting the opposite types of values we need to be cultivating for a humane and regenerative future.