It is not known what emotions crossed Kate Cory’s mind when she first detrained at the Santa Fe railroad station in Canyon Diablo in 1905. It was a clear summer day in heart of the Painted Desert. Although still morning, the intense sun was already causing heat waves to rise from the clay and sandstone, subduing the full coloration of the multi-hued mesas and buttes that dominated the horizon.
It was Cory’s first trip to the Southwest. The harsh but colorful landscape, along with the billowy clouds floating across the vast, azure sky, undoubtedly made a deep impression on the New York City resident. But her only recorded observation was one of dismay to the porter about the fact that there was no town –just a depot and a trading post in an otherwise empty setting.
The seed for her decision to visit Arizona had been planted the previous fall by fellow artist Louis Akin. Cory, at the time an instructor at Cooper Union, was at a meeting of the Pen and Brush Club in New York when she was introduced to Akin by writer Maude Banks. Akin had just returned after leaving the year before “emotionally depressed, despairing of city life in New York, and resolved to find himself by living among the Hopi Indians”.
Apparently it had worked. Although frequently moody and distant, Akin was gushing with excitement that day as he recounted his “wonderful winter out in Arizona in the Hopi reservation”. He was most likely the first Anglo to spend any significant time living with the Hopi since the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. Akin spoke glowingly of the mild weather which permitted an artist to work outside year round. He then described in detail the block like adobe houses perched on the top of rugged mesas with majestic views. But perhaps most intriguing were his stories of the “gentle people with their strange ceremonies and rituals,” who had inhabited the settlements for centuries. When he felt he had sufficiently captivated the two women, he added “I want to go back there and have a colony of writers, artists, and musicians. Why can’t you two be of that colony?”
Forty-three years old at the time and never married, Cory admitted the idea sounded attractive. Both her parents had died the year before, leaving more than enough money to subsidize her frugal lifestyle for several years. Outside of her job she had to strong ties to New York, so Akin’s proposal “blossomed to reality” the next summer. A cousin from Seattle came to New York and invited Cory to visit the west coast to meet “those relatives out in Washington whom" she had "never seen or known”. Cory accepted, and bought a round trip ticket with a stop in Diablo Canyon on the return leg.
The remote location had been chosen as a disembarking point for what would be a two day wagon trip to the Hopi Mesas over sixty miles to the north. She had sent “a box of necessities” to the trading post prior to her arrival. After retrieving her package she hooked up with a trader named William Volz and his wife, who were scheduled to take her to Oraibi two days later. During the wait Cory made her first ever horseback trip, riding to a nearby Navajo camp. The following day she accompanied Volz on a lumber delivery to Meteorite Mountain. The Volzs then took her by covered wagon on a “two very blue-sky days and one starry night” trip to Hopi Land.
Cory was unsure at the time as to whether her stay would be permanent-hence her decision to purchase a full round trip ticket. But by the time she had reached the Hopi Reservation, a short four days later she was so fascinated by what she had seen that she decided to stay. The tribe’s genuinely friendly nature made her feel welcome, and the two pueblo top rooms she was able to rent in Oraibi reminded her of a smaller version of her New York apartment.
However, it wasn’t long afterwards that Cory came to the conclusion that she would be the only writer, artist or musician to make the trek. She succinctly summed up the event nearly forty years later: “It materialized that Louis’ plan did not bring the party to the reservation and thus I became the ‘colony’.
No matter. Not long afterwards she asked for and received a refund on the unused portion of the return ticket. It would be a full seven years before Kate Cory finally left the Hopi reservation.
Short and slender in stature, with a modest, low key demeanor, bespectacled Kate Cory was one of those rare breeds who appears completely unremarkable at first glance, but who upon closer inspection becomes outright fascinating.
Cory was born in Waukegan, Illinois on February 8, 1861 just prior to the outbreak of the Civil War. She was descended from prominent families on both her mother and father’s side, “people of daring, conviction and adventure”. Her father, James Y. Cory was an activist editor and ardent abolitionist, whose house was a stop on the Underground Railway. Some accounts claim he was a close personal friend of Abraham Lincoln. One of her uncles was Washington State’s last territorial and first statehood governor. Both her grandfathers were doctors. Her mother, a Maine native was allegedly a descendent of Mayflower pilgrims. Three cousins, Fanny Y. Cory, Jack Cory, and B. Cory Kilvert were also artists of note. Another cousin served as the territorial governor of America Samoa.
Most of Cory’s childhood has been lost to history. Her father’s activism and political views likely had a significant influence, particularly in the areas of social awareness and tolerance of other cultures and races –qualities that would prove beneficial during her years with the Hopi. After graduating from high school in Waukegan her family moved to New York City where she continued her art education at Cooper Union and later The Art Students League. While at the Art Students League she studied under early American Impressionist J. Alden Weir and Classical Realist Kenyon Cox. Like many aspects of her early life, it is not known how much influence either or both had on the young artist. Although not overtly so, elements from both schools can be seen in her work. It can be assumed that she created several works during this period. Yet curiously, none are known to still be in existence or have ever been cataloged.
On the other hand, much has been written and documented about Cory’s seven years with the Hopi. It was a relatively brief portion of her long life, but it was clearly the most historically significant. She was given the opportunity to observe in depth and photograph every aspect of tribal life, ranging from their daily routines to sacred ceremonies and rituals, even those previously restricted to Hopi men. It was a privilege that few have ever been granted. She became a close friend of many in the tribe and was invited to become a member, although she graciously declined.
Different accounts give various reasons for her leaving the reservation. In one article, written many years later, quotes her as saying life in the Indian country had become too difficult. Some old timers from the area recount stories of her well known attraction to an unknown Hopi man creating a bit of a sensation on the mesas. The story may well have been no more than idle rumor, but in such a small, tightly knit community the mere whisperings of such matters can prove to make life uncomfortable.
Another one of the many mysteries in Cory’s life was the purpose behind her extensive photographing and cataloging of Hopi life. Painting was her first love, and it may have been the photos were taken as studies for subjects she later intended to portray on canvas. Others have speculated she began experimenting with photography as an artistic medium and became frustrated with the results. Regardless of the intent, by the time she left she had amassed a photographic archive of over 640 negatives, a body of work which in time would prove to be a remarkably valuable ethnographic and historical achievement.
After saying goodbye to Oraibi in 1912, Cory settled in Prescott where she would remain a permanent resident for the rest of her life. Despite its isolated location, Prescott has always had a relatively well developed cultural heritage. Blessed with a combination of natural beauty and a mild four season climate, the area was a natural draw for many forced to relocate to Arizona due to health and respiratory issues. Several came from well to do backgrounds and brought with them a high discernment and appreciation for the performing and visual arts. The first territorial capitol of Arizona, to this day the town maintains a strong Western flavor, based in large part on its origins as a mining, lumber and ranching community.
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