The cabin of Ho-tah-moie (Roaring Thunderer), also famously known as John Stink, was one of the casualties of the wildfire that raged south of Pawhuska on Tuesday, Oct. 29, near the Osage County Fairgrounds.
Ho-tah-moie was an Osage who garnered national fame in the early 1900s for being a wealthy recluse who was rumored to have come back from the dead. He was also known to always have at least five dogs with him. There are many myths as to how Ho-tah-moie got the name “John Stink.” One account said it was due to a rare skin disorder that caused a foul-smelling odor, another claim was that diabetes had caused him to have foul-smelling breath, and yet another claim was he had tuberculosis of the lymphatic glands which caused the odor.
As for the stories of him coming back from the dead, one story alleges he had narcolepsy and after having an episode he was presumed dead. He was buried in the traditional Osage manner of the time. He was sat upright and rocks were piled on him. Waking up, he pushed the rocks away, walked back to town and people thought he was a ghost. He was subsequently shunned.
A second story claims that when he was intoxicated, he fell into a snow drift and froze to death. He was buried in the traditional style and when time had passed and he had a chance to “thaw out,” he climbed out of the rocks and wandered into town to astonished tribal members who thought he was a ghost.
A third story claims he was a bad diabetic and slipped into a diabetic coma, was presumed dead, buried traditionally, woke up, climbed out, etc., etc.
After all of these tales of how he allegedly came back from the dead, it’s hard to find any information separating fact from fiction. What is known is that he chose to live out his life on his land just south of Pawhuska, mostly in a tent, with his many dogs.
Indian Agent
In a 1919 Tulsa World article, the Indian Agent at the time, Laban J. Miles, spoke on the record about Ho-tah-moie. Miles was the Indian Agent from 1844 to 1931 and famed Osage author, John Joseph Mathews, based his book “Wah’Kon-Tah” on Miles’s journals, according to a 1932 review of the book in Time Magazine.
“John Stink … was an only child of his parents who were members of the Big Hill band of Osages, living on Salt Creek, 20 miles south of Pawhuska. I knew John Stink as a boy and remember that he was short mentally and was an outcast among his fellows. In 1889 the government made it a requirement for all Indian children from the ages of 8 to 21 to attend school here. John, who was about 17 years of age at the time, was reluctant to go to school and his parents were not particularly in favor of it, but as it was required by the government, I put him in school where he remained for two or three months.
“John was so decidedly deficient mentally that he could not comprehend anything, so he was taken out of school and never attended again. About a year afterward John’s mother died and six months later his father died. This left John quite alone in the world with no friends.”
Miles said tribal members shunned him and made no attempts to speak to him due to what could have been an undiagnosed mental health disorder, which of course there was no cure, care or medicine at the time.
“He had no fixed abode and was a pitiable wanderer, half starved and utterly friendless. Out of compassion, Jim Lawrence, of this town cared for him for awhile,” Miles wrote.
“In those days the Osages only drew $40 or $45 per quarter, which was scarcely enough for the barest existence. John was unsuspecting, was cheated out of most of these quarterly payments and was continually in debt for something to eat and wear.
“Later, T.H. McLaughlin, of this town, took John in hand and acted as his guardian. McLaughlin owns a grocery store here and is a pioneer citizen. John was grateful to him for his kindness and for several years slept in the doorway of the store, guarding it against intrusion at night. Once the store was accidentally left unlocked, and John, observing this, immediately notified his benefactor. John Stink actually made this entrance his boudoir, sharing part of it with his three dogs, for over four years. He was offered a place to sleep inside, but refused it, disliking confinement.
“In 1914, the city marshal, out of what he called humor, killed two of John’s dogs. The bereavement must have been stinging to John, but he made no other demonstration than to retire to the country, never to return. His quarters now consist of a small tent, which is situated about three and one-half miles southeast of Pawhuska on Bird Creek. His food is sent to him each day by McLaughlin,” Miles wrote.
According to Miles, McLaughlin used Ho-tah-moie’s headright money to build him a log cabin and continued to deliver his groceries to him until he died.
According to a 1914 report in The Guthrie Daily Leader, Pawhuska’s “dog marshal” shot five of Ho-tah-moie’s dogs for not being muzzled. This caused Ho-tah-moie to go into distress.
“Ho-tah-moie has been crying, weeping, howling and moaning the last three days and nights. The hermit’s only and sole associates are dead. Many of the people say that the killing of Stink’s dogs was a cruel outrage against the most inoffensive Osage Indian. Others declare that the dog killer better keep shy of Ho-tah-moie.”
Log Cabin
The Osage Nation Museum has a photo of Ho-tah-moie in his log cabin, well-dressed and possibly reading. This doesn’t match up with Miles’s account of his diminished mental capacity. The photo, which was donated to the Osage Nation Museum by former Assistant Principal Chief Raymond Red Corn, was part of his father’s photo collection, Raymond Wesley Red Corn Jr.
“My dad knew him and said that John Stink and Pah-se-to-pah, who was deaf and couldn’t speak, taught him a lot about hunting,” Red Corn said. “Dad was very interested in that. Those two guys taught my dad how to hunt back in the day.”
Even though Pah-se-to-pah couldn’t speak, he was proficient in Indian sign language, according to numerous reports, and was also chosen to be the escort for First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt when she visited the Osage Nation in 1937.
Ho-tah-moie’s cabin eventually was renovated and people lived there and hosted events. Principal Chief Geoffrey Standing Bear said the Osage County Bar Association used to have events there. He remembers asking his family about Ho-tah-moie, and whether he came back from the dead.
“They said, ‘Nah, he was sick and they thought he was dead. He was just real sick.”
In 1939, at the age of 80, Ho-tah-moie was out on his land, slipped on a rock and broke his leg. He developed pneumonia and died.