by Paul R. Spitzzeri
This evening, a presentation was given in Alhambra to the Los Angeles chapter (that is, Corral) of The Westerners, an organization of Western American history enthusiasts that will celebrate its 80th year in existence next year and has corrals throughout the nation and in other countries. The topic was Josephine Mercedes Workman (1882-1977), granddaughter of Homestead founders William Workman and Nicolasa Urioste and who achieved significant renown in the United States in the early silent film era under the stage name of Princess Mona Darkfeather.
She was the youngest of the four daughters and two sons born to Josephine Belt (whose father was from Maryland and mother from Chile) and Joseph M. Workman, whose mother was from Taos, New Mexico and father from the northern reaches of England. This is brought up because Josephine, as Princess Mona, was routinely advertised through the evolving and increasingly more sophisticated studio publicity machines as a “real,” as opposed to “reel,” Indian, though there were also instances in which it was admitted that she was not—but, still was adopted in one form (physically or spiritually) or another as an indigenous person.
Her paternal grandmother, Viviana Asorca, may well have had native roots in Chile, and it seems very likely that this was the case with Nicolasa Urioste, who not only hailed from Taos, where there remains a large Pueblo Indian community, but made a point of having her children, Antonia Margarita and José Manuel, Josephine’s father, baptized at the Indian pueblo Roman Catholic church. This is notable because the family resided in the southern reaches of Taos at San Francisco del Rancho and she bypassed the “European” church where William Workman was baptized and took the children to the northern section of the community to the Indian pueblo one.
Whatever the case, Josephine was almost certainly not brought up with any strong tie to indigenous culture, much less one related to her Latino heritage. She was raised in a comfortable house in Boyle Heights, where her father acquired an acre adjacent to his cousin, William H. Workman (co-founder of the Los Angeles suburban neighborhood, of which we’ll be commemorating its 150th anniversary at an event on 30 March). Joseph, as he was known, looks to have had a good income from leasing the 825-acre portion of Rancho La Puente given to him by his father, William, (for the benefit of the grandchildren, it was stated), in 1870.
Though the family resided at La Puente for over a decade, the decision to move to the Angel City was purportedly motivated by the access to education for the Workman children, also including Mary, Agnes, Lucille, William J. and George. Life appears to have been quite good for the family during the Eighties, during which a great boom occurred when William H. Workman was mayor of Los Angeles, but in the resulting bust, problems quickly emerged on the financial front.
By the early Nineties, debts were incurred to the tune of thousands of dollars, to individuals, firms and, principally, the German-American Savings Bank, which loaned money to Josephine’s parents with the La Puente ranch as collateral. In 1895, a foreclosure was filed and the tract was acquired by El Paso, Texas capitalist, Oscar T. Bassett. The Workmans separated, though never divorced, and their individual economic circumstances worsened considerably during a difficult decade that included a national depression in 1893 (and, locally, several years of drought.)
The 1900 federal census showed mother and daughter residing at the Hotel Casa Loma boarding house at the corner of Los Angeles and 1st streets and 18-year old Josephine was listed with the occupation of “whistler,” an unusual one to say the least. In the early to mid years of the first decade of the 20th century, however, her mother was targeted by city officials, during an intense period of moral crusading against all manner of vice, for running a brothel—notably, three of the four other residents of the Casa Loma were denoted as “dress maker,” a common euphemism for a prostitute. The other was the senior Josephine’s future husband, David Parten.
As for young Josephine’s job title, it turns out that, at least in one instance, she performed in Angel City theaters as a whistler, with one 1897 account noting that she gave two solos that were well received by the audience of the well-know Burbank Theatre. So, the origins of her film career look to have been somewhat humble, but significant. In 1902, she gave birth to a daughter, Josephine Frances, and it is not clear who the father was, though a marriage to musician Harry Knoll in early 1906 may indicate either biological or adoptive fatherhood for the member of a well-known family of entertainers in late 19th and early 20th century Los Angeles.
Sadly, Harry died within two years, though later in the same year, 1908, “Miss Josephine Knoll” appeared in a melodrama “The Great Eastern World” at the Grand Theatre. While it is possible the role of Irene was played by little Josephine Frances, who was featured in a newspaper article as “a graceful little dancer and sweet singer” who performed at charity events,” the fact that the play was a drama and there were no identified child roles, it seems likely that it was the future film star who had the minor part.
Whatever the case, the elder Josephine Knoll routinely stated that she answered a 1909 newspaper advertisement looking for a darker-hued woman to perform in films—this year being when the first movies were shot in Los Angeles, including “The Roman,” said to be the first picture made in town and which was filmed in a makeshift studio at Olive and 8th streets with one of the actors being Frank E. Montgomery, a seasoned stage performer.
The first located movie starring the newly established Princess Mona Darkfeather was from mid-December 1910, in the picture “A Cheyenne’s Love for a Sioux” and she very quickly became a success, though sometimes the name was jumbled, in the typical offering of short films, mainly two-reel productions which were generally around 20 minutes in running time. One June 1911 brief snippet recorded that
Miss Nora Darkfeather, a full-blooded Indian girl with strong dramatic talent, is a member of the Bison Stock Co. There are few real Indians in the amusement field with the ability to interpret leads, and the Bison is the only moving picture company which has genuine Indians in its stock company. Miss Darkfeather has made a great success in the histrionic field.
This idea that Darkfeather (Workman) was an indigenous person obviously suited the needs of various studios with whom she worked, including Bison, Kalem and others, to sell their product to unsuspecting audiences and, yet, there were also open admissions that she was not a native, so it is hard to square why these conflicting accounts would be publicized.
For example, a November 1912 feature, with three large photographs, in a Buffalo newspaper was titled “Princess Mona Darkfeather: the great exponent of Indian women in the Motion Picture Industry.” It was acknowledged that she “is not a real Indian as so many suppose; having been born of an old aristocratic Spanish family,” though this, too, was a mixture of truth and the stretching of it. Spanish, incidentally, was a more acceptable term than whatever would have applied to Nicolasa Urioste and Viviana Asorca, having a European tinge to it.
The piece then continued that, regarding the the Bison star,
She is one of its most valued and highest salaried actresses, and is without doubt the greatest exponent of Indian women in the moving picture business, having been associated with Indians and having studied their customs nearly all her life. She has endeared herself to many tribes and is the idol of the Indians associated with the Bison Company, and as a result she possesses a magnificent collection of Indian dresses, bead work, jewelry and trophies . . .
Princess Mona Darkfeather speaks several Indian languages very fluently and possesses an alto voice of great range and beauty. She received the title of “princess” from Chief Rising Sun of the Arapahoe tribe after a two-year sojourn with the Arapahoes.
The piece went on to remark that Darkfeather was an expert horse rider, whose work with her co-star Comanche “are famous in the motion picture world” and it added that the actor “is entirely without jealousy or snobbishness” and that she was “a great favorite with her company,” while being “a hard worker and generous to the last degree.” The article concluded that the star’s “recent work is a revelation and is being accorded generous criticism.”
Four months later, another major feature article was issued under the heading of “The Great Spirit Took Mona, But In This Girl She Still Lives” and featured a dramatic drawing of the star with the caption “The ‘Mona Darkfeather’ you know from the films.” Penned by Gertrude M. Price, a syndicated “moving picture expert” who was later a columnist for the Los Angeles Record, the colorful piece began with the observation that “a pretty story, with pathos in it, centers about the naming of Mona Darkfeather, the popular Indian character photo player.”
Setting up the audience further, Price added, “to tell it properly, a secret must be revealed—this clever girl is not a real Indian! She is a Spaniard, with an inherent love of the Indian peoples and their customs.” Adding a strange, spiritual dimension to the origin story of the actor, the columnist continued, “it was there in the old Spanish patio that she first met the original Mona Darkfeather.” That is, “the little Indian girl came into the home of the Spanish family, when she was very young, as the child of a helper. She was adopted.”
This was a “dream factory” fabrication because Josephine, as noted above, was raised in a substantial Queen Anne-style house in a fashionable area of Boyle Heights and it certainly did not have an “old Spanish patio.” Yet, Price went on, “one day the Great Spirit called her to come to the happy hunting ground” but, adding to the drama, she wrote “before she could leave she slipped her thin arms around the neck of her big girl friend [Josephine] and whispered”:
“You take name I leave behind! I make good spirits watch over you when I away.” There was no more strength in the little lungs. The little Mona Darkfeather had gone.
But the new Mona Darkfeather rose up in her place breathing a promise to carry the name of the little Indian girl as long as she lived.
That’s the story which Mona, the photo player, told me in her dressing room at the Universal [Studios] ranch in California . . .
The spirit of the Indian girl really seems to have wrapped itself around the Spanish player, for she has learned so well how to dress the part and to look and act it that the real Indians on the ranch have made her one of them.
Price concluded her article by observing that Darkfeather “rides like an Indian, bareback. She knows no fear” and, in her four years of film work, was tied to the back of a bronco, rode down narrow trails and gulches that were dangerous, and was “burned at the stake.” Yet, it was claimed, “Mona . . . never grows tired of living the part the little Indian girl gave her when she left her name in her keeping.”
Another notable feature on the actor came in May 1914 under the headline of “Indian Actress, a Popular Motion Picture Player” and which began with the observation that “Mona Darkfeather is distinctly different” and that “she is known all over the civilized world” not to mention that “she is recognized as one of the best Moving Picture Indians appearing on the screen,” though she lacked stage experience, as if that mattered.
Additionally, she was labeled “a curiosity” because she acquired her fame without ever having set foot outside Los Angeles since her film career began “and although the Moving Picture public associates her with Indian characters, she is very versatile and will soon be as familiar in Western and society roles as in Indian characterizations.” When the unnamed reporter met with the actor, however, she was clothed in her Indian garb at the Kalem Studios in Glendale ready to film, under her husband’s direction, “The Invisible Vengeance.” She told the journalist,
Contrary to the general belief, I am not an Indian. My parents are Spanish, descendants of an aristocratic family. I was born in Los Angeles and educated there. I was supposed to be destined for the operatic stage and went through a long course of voice cultivation; but the Moving Pictures attracted me, and I joined the original Bison company at Santa Monica, under my present director, and I suppose I made good at the outset, for I have been with Mr. Montgomery ever since.
When asked about how she acquired her knowledge of indigenous people, she answered that this began with her joining Bison and that there were members of several tribes with that company. She continued that “I got their interest and good will, and soon learned their languages and customs” with this followed by visits to tribes and her residing among them. She reiterated that “I was created a princess by Chief Rising Sun of the Arapahoe tribe after a two years’ sojourn with them.”
She showed the writer her collection of native clothing, jewelry and other items, given to her by Indians or purchased, with these including solid silver pieces, blankets, moccasins, beadwork and more. Significantly, she added that she was happy to rejoin Kalem, with which she worked after leaving Bison and before signing with Universal Pictures, noting “I was the first one engaged for the Universal Bison Company.” With Kalem, however, “my work is more varied . . . for, much as I love doing Indian maidens and squaws, I like to portray other characters now and again.”
This, also, is an important aspect of her career—the desire to break free of typecasting and play parts that involved non-Indian women in frontier-themed works and, then, soon, a remarkable series based on the British explorer Henry Stanley and his travels through Africa. Darkfeather was also praised for her alto singing voice and her work with her beloved horse, Comanche.
Not quite two months later, however, another article went back to asserting that “the wonderful fidelity with which Mona Darkfeather plays Indian roles” was because Montgomery “says she does so well because she’s the daughter of a red man.” In this version, it was claimed that she spent “several years with the different tribes” as she looked to better know them and that “among her warmest friends are Chief Sitting Sun and the Sioux Indians.”
Not only this, but it was asserted that she resided with the Blackfeet in Montana, the Pueblos in New Mexico (the article only said Mexico, however) and the Moosehide in Alaska, though this small tribe is actually in the Yukon of Canada. It was continued that she traveled extensively in the American territory and the article concluded that “Miss Darkfeather’s portrayals [such as in her latest, “The Fate of a Squaw”] are clad with authenticity such as is not found in the characterization of white players who attempt Indian roles.”
A late August 1914 feature as she was about at the apex of her stardom was titled “An Indian Idol” and punned that “yes, Mona Darkfeather is a ‘reel’ Indian idol,” loved by “her own race” as well as “many, many of her white sisters and brothers” and it averred that she “is the daughter of a family entitled to the title ‘Princess.'” As she completed two new pictures, “Defying the Chief” and “The Indian Agent,” the actor was again lionized for being “the greatest Indian performer in the motion picture world, and shines as a bright star in the firmament.”
What was new in this article was the report that “Mona has been deriving heaps of fun out of the many funny letters and drawings received from children” as she offered prizes of a signed photograph for the best of these. It was added that “just to show her how many movie fans consider her their ‘idol,’ Mona has received nearly a thousand drawings so far!”
Yet, her star definitely dimmed over the next couple of years, during which she tried newer roles as mentioned above, not to mention that she was nearing her mid-thirties and the prospect of playing Indian maidens likely became an issue, as was the changing tastes of movie audiences. A May 1916 reference in a “question-and-answer” column included a query of “Is Mona Darkfeather really an Indian and is that her real name,” to which the reply was “yes, Mona Darkfeather is a direct descendant of an Indian chieftain.”
She starred in her last film in spring 1917 before leaving Los Angeles and settling with Montgomery in Spokane, where he’d lived when working on the stage at the start of the century and where they opened an acting school and allied with a film studio, though both enterprises quickly failed. A personal appearance tour in 1918-1919 was an attempt to keep the Darkfeather persona viable, but that, too, did not succeed. While her films appeared in movie theaters through most of the 1920s and she appears to have had a role in a 1927 picture, she soon faded from the scene and was largely forgotten in succeeding years.
Tonight’s presentation largely covered the varied publicity pieces that alternatively claimed that she was a full-blooded indigenous person and then admitted that she instead from “an aristocratic Spanish family.” We now call this “appropriation,” but, in her heyday in the first half of the 1910s, the situation was entire different, and, whether she had some native ancestry through her grandmothers, Josephine M. Workman’s persona as Princess Mona Darkfeather, despite claims to the contrary, was anything but authentic as a product of the rapidly evolving “dream factory” of motion pictures.
I missed the “Alhambra” connection?
The connection was only that the presentation about Princess Mona Darkfeather was given in Alhambra, which should have been clearer, so that has been changed in the post. Thanks for your interest!