May 1977: The Old Times and Memorial Day Pow Wow

5-2-77

I went to visit Irma and Ray. Irma, Ruth and Shannon and I sat around the kitchen table and talked. Irma said that she remembered really well when TB was a big problem here. It's not as big a problem as it used to be. We used to take a tablespoon of cod liver oil every day. It was supposed to prevent TB. At first I hated it but my mother would make us take it. After a while I actually didn't mind the taste. It didn't taste so bad. I got used to it. And it was supposed to help prevent TB.

My sister got it, and my mother moved her into a cabin. She lived in this cabin alone near our house. She was older than me. I didn't know that she had TB. I didn't know for a long time why she was living alone in that cabin. I finally found out about it one day. I was just a little girl, and I went over to the cabin to visit my sister. While I was at the cabin, I picked up my sister's lipstick. I was going to put some on just for play. And my sister screamed at me. I didn't understand why she screamed at me, and I got real scared and started to cry. Then she told me that she had TB and didn't want me to use the lipstick because she didn't want for me to get it. That's the first time I knew why she was living in that cabin alone.

When I was 16 years old, she came down with pneumonia and she died.

Most Indians are very embarrassed by TB. I think they're embarrassed about it because it's a disease that they didn't get from the white man. It's a disease that is among Indians. TB was found a lot among Indians. They used to send Indians with TB to Galen. Galen was also used for cancer patients. Now Galen is for people with alcohol problems. It's an alcohol rehabilitation center. There was a place in Idaho that they also sent Indians that had TB.

The TB problem wasn't so bad in our family because we took our precautions like having my sister live in that cabin. Some people say that families where there was TB were shunned by other families. But if that's true, it sure didn't happen in my family. People used to come visit us all the time. I don't think it was true. We weren't shunned at all. Another thing too was that a lot of people used to think that TB was caused from not having enough calcium in the diet.

Irma said that people would never get a divorce in those days (her parent’s generation and older). If a couple wasn’t getting along, they would separate, but they wouldn’t get a divorce.

5-4-77

Jim brought back lunch from the senior citizen hall for Beatrice, as he usually does. Beatrice was eating a piece of ham. She picked it up in her hands and said to me, I hope you’re not offended if I eat with my hands. I told her it didn’t bother me at all. I asked her if she could remember if people ever ate without utensils. She said that she couldn’t remember that – we always had utensils. We did eat meat by putting it up to our mouths and cutting across in front of our lips with a knife. She demonstrated imaginatively. I can remember eating meat that way. I guess Indian people are just good at eating that way. No one ever cut themselves with the knife.

5-5-77  

Gordon and Edith came up to the rectory to call Glen at Bozeman, but he wasn’t there. So, they came into the kitchen to have some coffee with me and Mike.

Gordon said that yesterday was the first Gros Ventre culture class at the community center in Hays. It was an organizational meeting. Yesterday was the first class. They are going to meet every Wednesday evening. Gordon and Edith didn’t go to the class, so they didn’t know that much about it. They said that Butcher Whitecow is teaching the Gros Ventre language, and he speaks it very well.

Mike asked Gordon if the name Crazy was always that, or if there was more to their name in the past that was changed. He said he knew a family named Crazy Woman on the Crow Reservation. I said yeah, it might have been a relation of yours. The name was ‘Gone Crazy’. Gordon and Edith laughed hard at my joke.

Edith said, “Why do you ask us these questions? We don't know the answers. It's too late to be asking us about the Indian ways. They are gone and we don't have the answers about the way things used to be.” Then Gordon said that he and Ray started to ask questions about the Gros Ventre way of life, but it's too late. “We realized that it was too late to find out about the culture.” I asked him why he and Ray couldn't ask some of the old people to get the information. He answered me that the old people today don't know anything. “There used to be old people who knew about the Indian ways, but they died and it's too late to find out about the Gros Ventre way.” Edith said that even her mother had forgotten a lot of things about the Gros Ventre ways, and she had even started to forget the language. She hardly ever had a chance to speak it. “It's a very difficult language anyway, so she started to forget it.”

Gordon said that the whole family used to go on big hunting parties.

We would go on Timber Ridge or down to the breaks and to other places. We used to get the whole family to go out hunting, me and Edith. Ray and Irma, Bobby and Caroline, Joyce and Pete, Bertha and Jim Snow. Fred Gone and all the kids went on the hunting parties. When we saw a deer, we sure made a lot of noise. Everyone would hunt too, all the women and kids. We'd pack lunches and would have such a great time. We'd have all kinds of signals too, so that someone could get help dragging back the deer if they got one. Once when we were out we had a funny experience with Jim when he was younger and not sick. He was quite a walker. He could walk for miles. We were on a ridge, and it was miles long. Jim said he was going to walk the ridge. He was out for hours and finally we went out to look for him after it got dark. We finally saw him. He got a deer, and he was lighting matches to catch our attention. Sometimes we ignored someone’s signals so that the guy would have to drag the deer back on his own. We'd get a big laugh out of seeing someone dragged it back on their own. These hunting parties were sure fun. We haven't done it for a few years. It's too bad.

Gordon said that it used to be in the Indian way that the first child was given to the grandparents and they would raise the child. “My mother wanted our boy, Vaughn, (Gabby is the oldest, Vaughn the second oldest). One day she gave me a rifle. It was really a great gun. She came back a couple weeks later and asked for Vaughn. I told her no way. Then she asked for the gun back. So, I gave it back to her but we wouldn’t give up Vaughn.”

5-8-77  

As we were leaving their house (I drove Lyle to the baseball game) he told me that he thought it was great that Cyndee was so interested in the Indian ways. “It makes my dad happy to know that she’s so interested. One of the problems though is that it is so hard to find out about the old Indian ways. Most of the people who knew about the traditional way of life died. I’m interested in the Indian ways, too.”

5-11-77  

I was talking to Beatrice in the mission kitchen. She said that her grandfather, Lamebull, died before she really knew him.

My grandmother remarried. He treated the children and grandchildren just like his own. He was a good man. She called him grandfather. He didn’t get along with my father (Andrew) but it was because my father was just too ornery. My grandfather, Lamebull, was a good-looking man. I liked to just look at him. He used to wear braids. They were short and hung down just below his ears. His hair was real thin. They wore braids all their life. Maybe I ought to wear braids. I used to wear braids when I was younger. Beatrice said that her stepfather’s name was Bobtail Bear.

I was at Urban Rural talking to Granville. He said that the first time he went to Havre, he was 7 or 8 years old. Mabel said that the first time she was in any town, she was 10 years old. “I hadn’t gone anywhere before then, and it was pretty scary the first time.”

Granville said that his uncle once ran across a grave.

He was looking into the cut bank along People’s Creek. It’s really steep there, and he saw a man buried in the ground. He said he didn’t know how long it had been there, because the cloth was already deteriorating real fast. My uncle died in 1969 when he was 82. He said he was about ten years old when he found it so it must have been about 1890. The man he found buried was a white man. Indians didn’t bury their people under the ground. My people, the Sioux, Assiniboine, would lay their dead on the ground and would cover the body with a robe or blanket. Then they would lay stones around the outside of the cover to keep it down. Some Indian people would put the body on a platform, or they would put the body in a wooden box and would either put the box on top of the ground or in a tree. Other times the body was wrapped in a blanket or robe, and they put it in a tree.

5-12-77  

Mike and I were driving through Lodge Pole and he pointed to a hill about a quarter of a mile south of the school. There was a cement structure on top of the hill. He said that he was told that the last Assiniboine chief was buried there. When he died, they laid him up on top of the ground and they built a wooden structure around him. The wooden structure started to decay and fall apart, so they put up a cement block structure not too long ago.

The old Hays-Agency road cuts back and forth along the highway and is visible where it crosses the road. It was elevated off the ground with ditches on either side. The Lodge Pole road cuts back and forth across the new road. It appears that these old roads took the direction of least resistance. Wherever they came to a butte or large obstacle, the old road winds around the obstacle. In some places, the old road and new road run together.

Mike showed me John Stiffarm’s old log house which was along the new Lodge Pole highway. He said that John moved out of the log house when they put in the new road because it was too close to his house. He moved back away from the road., straight back from his old log house into a new house.

5-13-77  

I was talking to Beatrice in the mission kitchen. I asked her if she was going to the Gros Ventre classes on Wednesday nights. She answered no very emphatically, and said she already spoke Gros Ventre. “Why should I go to those classes. The old man and I talk Gros Ventre to each other all the time.” Bill asked her how you say Jim or Lamebull in Gros Ventre. She thought for a while and then she said that she didn’t know. We never had last names, so I don’t know how you’d say that in Gros Ventre.

Beatrice said that her grandfather, Lamebull, died before she could remember knowing him.

My grandmother remarried another man. Bobtail Bear was a good man. He treated me just like his own grandchild. He was really my step-grandfather. He married my grandmother. Since I was 10 months old, I lived with my grandparents. They only spoke Gros Ventre to me. And when I finally got to school, I had a tough time. When I first started at the mission, I didn’t know hardly any English, only Gros Ventre.

My grandmother gave me my Indian name – Warrior Woman. I don’t know why she called me that and I never thought to ask her. The grandparents usually named their grandchildren. The grandchildren also usually lived with their grandparents.

5-14-77  

At Frosty and Tiny’s wedding reception in the Hays Community Hall, I was talking to Chinky. He said that things around here are a lot different and not that long ago.

Only about 17 years ago we didn’t have the paved roads and the highway. We were more isolated here, and it was tough to drive on. You’d blow all your tires all the time and puncture gas tanks. But I liked it when it was more isolated. The only way to go south of here was to go over the mountains. There was one guy who used to go to Landusky for wine and beer. His truck had no breaks or lights and he used to come down over the mountain road at night. That was something else.

5-15-77

I was talking to Kathleen at the mission about the Urban Rural videotapes. She said that Chief Nosey was the last Assiniboine chief.

He was Jenny Gray’s grandfather, and she told me about him. The name Nosey was given to him by whites. That wasn’t his real name. They called him nosey because he used to go to watch the white soldiers to see how they did things. He would watch them hitch up horses to wagons, and then he would go back to his people and tell them how to do it. He did this with all kinds of things, so the whites started calling him nosey. He had two Indian names – The Male and Enemy Kill. He had a letter from Washington giving him permission to go to wherever he wanted and he used to go all over to observe the white soldiers and see what they were doing. He’s buried now on a hill in a cement building.

Dora Helgeson’s maiden name is First Chief. First Chief was the last one to be able to put on a Sundance. It died out with him because he didn’t pass it down. First Chief was either Dora’s father or grandfather.

5-17-77  

Mary, Beatrice, Susie and I were talking about Jesus and Mary in the mission kitchen. Mary said that once they were with Father and they were joking with him and told him that Jesus was a white man. Father got real mad. He said that Mary and Jesus came from the mediterranean area, and it was doubtful that he was white with blond hair and blue eyes. She said that all the pictures of him have him looking that way.

Then Mary said that she didn’t know why white people called them red men – we’re not red. She looked at the skin on her arm, and said, “My skin is almost black.” Beatrice said that she had an idea why they were called red men.

My grandmother used to paint her face red. Before they went to a dance, she would cover her face with this red paint. They would take a red clay and bake it, and would pound this clay into a fine powder. My grandmother would keep this red powder in a sack. Then she would mix this red powder with grease and rub it all over her face. Then her face would be all red, especially for the dances they would go to.

Beatrice said that in Indian (Gros Ventre), Ni aut means white man.

It refers to all white men. White men are all those people who come over here. There used to be bandits here. They used to stay down by Colburn Buttes, and they would come up here to the reservation. They would hide out here and go to see a white man who used to live near Curly Head. My mother would tell me about them, and she used to scare me. Those bandits were the Cury Brothers. They would come to pow wows and they would be real nice to the Indians. They would treat the Indians real nice. They would be eyeing our horses, and late at night, they would steal the best and fastest horses and leave us their old worn out horses. We used to call these bandits, Waus Ni Aut in Gros Ventre. It means bad white man.

5-19-77

Frank was smoking a cigarette in the rectory and Nade complained and teased him about smoking. “If you think this is bad, you should have seen what they used to smoke here, before they had cigarettes. It was called black twist. It came in long strips and had to be cut up and mixed in something.” Mike said knick knick. “They’d put it in a pipe and smoke it that way. You could hardly sit next to someone smoking that stuff. It smelled so bad. And they used to inhale it too.”

Camie was visiting us in the trailer. Susie and I thanked Camie for the quilt she gave us at the giveaway, and Jan LaValley thanked her also for the blanket she gave her and said it was the biggest give away she’d ever seen. Camie said that she wanted to give away more at Wade’s give away.

We had to skip over a lot of people that I wanted to give away to; people who helped him and who treated him well. It used to be that you gave away to people who helped the person and who treated him well. It was the people who helped out in his life but the giveaway has changed from what it used to be. You give away to people who helped out at the funeral and wake, the people who helped us cook and serve. Now it’s those who sign the book (the funeral book at the wake) and the people who send cards. It’s mostly kids who sign the book so we had to go through them and decide who we would give away to. It’s very hard to do. After going through the funeral, it is very hard to go through the feed and give away. It’s like going through all of it all over again. When Gerald was talking about Wade, Ralph got up and went back into the kitchen. He couldn’t take it. It’s very hard for him to take. It’s strange. He and Wade were never very close. They fought all the time. But Ralph has taken it so hard and he still isn’t over it. I was very nervous through the feed and give away.

We really didn’t do it right. When we were there, Ray sang an honor song, and the family was supposed to dance around the gym seats. The relatives and friends were supposed to come in behind us. We didn’t do that. My family is funny that way. They didn’t want to dance. They are like Richard’s side. But Wade was more interested in the Indian culture – (she looked at me and smiled; Camie was in my cultural anthropology class)- that’s why we had the feed and give away this way. It was because Wade had been more interested in the Indian culture. I wanted to tape the honor song that Ray sang, and we had the tape recorder ready, but no one turned it on. So, we didn’t get it.

I told Camie that if she went to Ray and asked him to sing it again, he would do it for her.

5-20-77  

I was talking to Beatrice in the mission kitchen. I asked Beatrice what people did when they had a toothache long ago. She said that once a man had someone pull his tooth with a pliers. Jim said that the dentist in Harlem sure used to be tough. “I had six teeth pulled all at one time and then he pulled the rest. There was no pain killer and nothing to put you to sleep. They didn’t give you anything.” Beatrice said that they treated us like we were just animals.

Mike and I were talking about the horse that was hit in Hays. He said that Frank told him that this used to be open range and that at one time, if you hit a horse or any cattle and killed it, that you were responsible for the damages. But it’s not open range anymore.

Quentin came up to the trailer to pay Susie for a phone call he had made. There wasn’t anyone at the rectory. He asked Susie if we were going to the hand game at his house tonight. “I promised to have a handgame for Angy. When he was sick, I promised to have a hand game when I prayed for him to get better. He’s back from Seattle and he’s doing well. I thought I’d better give the hand game now because I had a slight heart attack and I’m not sure of my future.” Quentin is Angy’s grandfather.

5-22-77  

Bill said that there were two hand games this weekend. Quentin had one at this home and it looked crowded. That was Friday night. Jenny Grey had one on Saturday night at her house. Quentin used Jenny’s handgame. (This was the weekend Susie, Mike and I met Susie’s dad and went to the Tongue River Canyon with Father Noel).

5-24-77  

We were visiting with Gordon and Edith at the mission.

When I (Edith) was a kid, we lived in a log house across from the mission. Me and Freddie both got diphtheria. I was 7 and he was 9. They put us in quarantine. The Walkers lived across the road back near the mission. Their kids also got diphtheria and two of them died. It was in 1932 when we got it. The Walkers moved out and they burned down their log house.

Gordon said that some people wanted to invite me to a peyote meeting. “It is on June 10^th.” I said that I would go with them – Gordon and Edith. “Fred has arranged for a peyote meeting in Pryor (Crow Reservation). We are going to pray for Ray’s health. Fred has gotten the people down there together to do it. They’ll pray for Ray’s health in Indian.” Gordon said that the prayers would be in Crow. Gordon said that you can chew the peyote buttons or drink it. He said that me and you won’t take as many as they do down there. “They’re pros at it. They can take twenty. We couldn’t take that much. It makes you feel good, and it relaxes you. It makes you forget all your problems.”

5-25-77  

Susie asked Lilly if she would make us a star quilt. She said she would, but she was working on one now, and had one more to do before she could get to ours. We said that was fine. She makes extra money doing these quilts. Other women and girls make them. A lot of the quilts are made through the Hays Senior Citizens Center, managed by Rosey Connors and Ruby Jones. The women make around $25 if the material is provided and about $50 if they have to buy the material themselves.

5-28-77  

I was visiting with Bertha at Gordon and Edith’s. Bertha said that she knew the notes were for my research and asked me what about the Gros Ventre I was interested in? I told her I was interested in how the Gros Ventre have changed. Bertha said, “Boy, do I have a lot to tell you.”

The Gros Ventre have changed. We don't know our language and most of us don't even know our culture. People like you come here and ask us why we don't even know our culture and why we don't speak Gros Ventre. Well, it was your ancestors who took it from us. It was white men who forced us to give up our language and culture. Not you, but your ancestors. It happened to my parents and their generation. It was taken away from them and they never passed it down to their children. It was lost with their generation. They knew it. My father could speak fluent Gros Ventre. They just never thought to teach it to their children, and they didn't pass down the culture. They were taken away from their parents when they were his age. (She pointed to Dion, about 5 years old.) They were kept at the school till they were about 16. They weren't allowed to come home for vacations or nothing. They spent all that time at the schools from 5 years old till 16, away from their parents.

An Indian teaches his children by lecturing to them. Just sitting down with them and teaching them by lecturing and talking to them. And the children could observe and they would learn by watching their parents and adults do things. They learned through the day-to-day routine and by observing this. Well, when these schools took the kids so young for so long, the kids learned the white man's ways. It was too late for them by the time they came back from these schools. They had already learned too much, too well of the other ways. They learned the white man's culture.

These were boarding schools. The kids lived there all the time without even coming home for vacations. There were two boarding schools, the Fort Belknap school at the Agency and the boarding school at the mission. The kids were forced to go to these schools. They came around for these kids, to take them from their parents and if the parents objected to them taking their kids away, they would make some kind of deal with the parents. They would give them a new wagon and a team of horses or something like that. If the parents would send their kids to boarding school. These people had nothing. They would take what was given to them. My parents and the people in their generation went to these boarding schools. They had their language and culture taken away from them. It was forcibly taken away, and it was never passed down. I'm a Gros Ventre and I don't even know my own language. I know very little about my culture.

I asked Bertha why the Assiniboine were able to retain so much of their language and culture while the Gros Ventre didn't if they both went to these boarding schools. She said that the Gros Ventre learned the white man's ways very quickly and very easily.

They learned the white man's language and culture so fast and they learned it well. I only went to school till the 10th grade. Do I sound like a dumb Indian? We just seem to learn that rapidly and the Gros Ventre did it because they were afraid of being punished and beaten. They used to get whipped with a rubber hose for speaking Gros Ventre. They used to get beat for it. So, they stopped talking their language so they wouldn't get beaten.

I asked her again about the Assiniboine. She said that they resisted the attempts by the boarding schools to take their language and culture away from them.

They fought it and the Gros Ventre didn't fight it. They talked to each other when they were away from the teachers, they talked amongst themselves. The Assiniboine's have been able to keep more of their culture, and they have a lot of people who speak the language. We don't have very many people who speak Gros Ventre.

These boarding schools didn't give these people a trade, and it didn't give them the kind of education where they could go out and find jobs when they got out of school. These kids worked hard. They learned how to milk cows and clean barns and cut wood and carry it. But when they got out of school, they didn't have any money to buy cows. You can't get a loan from a bank unless you have collateral. You have to have money to get a loan. Only people with money can borrow money. They learned all these different chores that they had to do at the Fort Belknap and mission boarding schools. But nothing to get them jobs after they graduated. At the mission school, these kids had to work hard after their classes in the afternoon. They had to cut big logs for hours to heat the school and boarding rooms. And you know how big that school was (it burned down a few years ago). They had to carry the wood up all those flights of stairs. The kids never went home for vacations and didn't see their parents until the end of the year.

At the beginning of the summer, when the parents came to pick up their kids, sometimes the child would die at the boarding schools, and the schools wouldn't even notify the parents. I know that this happened at Ft. Belknap School and at the Mission too. They didn't care if these kids died. They just buried them and didn't even tell the parents about it. Once a child died and the parents came to pick up their kids and that was the first time they heard of their child dying. It was horrible. Sometimes the kids would try to run away from the boarding school and go back to their parents, even in the winter. Some of these kids froze to death when they ran away. It was such a strange environment for the kids, and they were taken away from their parents so young. They didn't know English when they were taken away, but after that generation went through the boarding school, they came home and spoke English in their houses. That's why I don't speak Gros Ventre. My father went through this boarding school and spoke English to his kids. We learned it as our language, not Gros Ventre.

These schools did a good job on my father, and the mission converted him really well. He didn't know anything of being a Catholic, but the mission made a good Catholic of him. He was very lethargic. He didn't do much work. He believed that God would provide for his family, and there were days when his kids went hungry. Do you know what an empty plate is? What it's like to go hungry? He didn't work because he really believed that God would provide for his family. Another thing is that he learned to expect everything from the government, that the government would take care of him. He was in boarding schools for a long time. The government put food on his plate, a roof over his head, and clothes on his back. He learned to depend on the government and to expect that the government would provide for him. He wasn't much of a provider. He wrote a lot and did a lot for the church, but his kids went hungry often enough. He had the white man education and was converted to Catholicism.

“I hate the white man”. She paused for a minute and smiled. “I'm just kidding.” She wasn't kidding.

My father worked hard for the mission. He built all kinds of things for the church and school. He was always over there repairing something or building something. That mission is supposed to help provide for its people. What did they do for my father and his family on Christmas and Easter; they brought over stale bread and some cookies, after all that work and time he gave to the mission and that's all they did for him and his family. These nuns over there are always trying to get people to tell them how much we appreciate them being here and to thank them all the time for what they've done for us. They talk about their school and all they've done for us and all the years they've been here. The way I look at it is who asked them to come here? Why should we appreciate them and thank them? We didn't invite them. They came here on their own. They're doing God's work. It's for themselves as much as it is for anyone else. Who asked them to come here? Why should we show them so much thanks. But they always want us to tell them how much we appreciate them. I went to the mission boarding school for one year. We lived in a log house across from the mission, behind where the Shambos live now. My parents sent me to the mission school. I stayed at the boarding school all week. I was the only one of my brothers and sisters who went to the boarding school. All the rest of them went to the day school after me. (Bertha is the oldest). I was the only one who was in the boarding school. It closed in 1936, and the Mission started a day school. The Ursulines left and the Franciscans came in to take their place.

When I was in the boarding school, my parents took care of me, not the school. I went home on weekends, and my parents pulled the lice out of me and took care of me. The boarding school didn't. They didn't care. We sure didn't eat well at the school. For breakfast we had a bowl of some kind of cereal. There wasn't much heat in the school, and it would get cold real fast. It would stick together, and it was just like a pancake, about 1/4 inch thick and hard. And those nuns made you eat everything.

I asked Bertha what the Ursulines were like. She said that some of them were good and some were bad.

Those brothers though, some of them were really tough. Brother Fox used to really beat on some of those kids. He could sure be nasty. And there was another brother. People used to think that he was so nice and gentle because he walked around so quiet and peaceful, and he would whip and beat kids, too. They used a rubber hose on some of these kids, and a few got beat up pretty bad. The Ursaline sisters, though, they taught kids really well. They were good teachers, and you learned from them. I liked them better than those Franciscans.

You wouldn't see my kids in the mission school. That Sister Bartholomew is so narrow-minded. I can't even talk to her. I once had one of these nuns thrown out of the school. She used to be real tough with the kids and she used to call them ignorant Indians. My daughter had her. It must have been in the early 1950s. She used to come home and tell me stories in her class. There was one boy who stuttered, and she used to make him stand up and answer questions and he would get so nervous he could hardly get the words out. She used to ridicule him about his stuttering right in front of the other kids. One day it got so bad that he vomited class. The kids were sorry for him after that. He would vomit every time the school bus came to pick him up. Then one day my daughter came home from school as soon as she walked into the house, she burst into tears. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me what happened. She had to go to the bathroom real bad, but the sister wouldn't let her go because it was almost the end of the school day and she didn't want her to be late for the bus. She had to go so bad that she finally peed in her pants. Well, I got so mad I told the kids to watch dinner, and I put my coat on and started walking up to the mission. I had heard enough stories that this was the last one. We lived out of Hays past where we live in our old house, and I was so angry I wanted to hit her. When I got to the store, Father Simoneau was coming back with the bus. He stopped and picked me up and he asked me why I was so mad. I told him the story and that if I had walked all the way to the mission that I might have cooled down enough, but that someone better watch out because I'm mad. He told me I should go see Sister Giswalda. I told him that he better get rid of that nun, or I would go around to every home that had a child in the mission and explain to them what this nun was doing to these Indian kids. And I would convince them to take their kids out of the school. How would you explain this to the Bishop when he sees that the enrollment has gone down to nothing next year? He told me to go see Sister.

I went to the school and told Sister Giswalda the story. She asked me if I was sure about what I was saying. She didn't believe me. In so many words, she was calling me a liar. She asked me if I would say the same thing in front of the Sister. I told her that I would. I told her to bring her in, but she better keep her distance from me because I might pull her habit off and pull her hair out. I told her that I was taught all my life to respect that cloth and I did. It was a holy thing to us, and we weren't even supposed to touch it. I was mad enough to do it. So, she brought her in and I told her the story again. The sister just hung her head down. I told her that she'd better hold her tongue and watch what she said and did to those kids. She finished out the year, but they transferred her right after that to another school.

Some of these nuns were good. Sister Mel was real good. (I asked her what kind of relationship she has with Sister Giswalda now). She tolerates me, that's all. She talks about my father, how Mr. Gone did this and that, but she only tolerates me. The food at the mission was bad. The kids didn't eat well. But if you looked around the corner, what those priests and nuns ate, they ate real well. The tables and plates were always full. Some families go hungry around here, but they eat well. Just look at these guys with Gordon and Edith with all these kids. Sometimes there's no food on their plates. What has the mission or the government done for them? They're supposed to be helping them.

The government took away the culture from our people. People complained that their tax money is going to all these Indian programs, and they don't see good results from the programs. Well, I have news for them and you people should know this. It's your money. The Indians don't get this money. If I wanted to sell a piece of land or even give her some land, I would have to submit this request to the BIA office at the Agency. It would then go to the BIA area office in Billings, and they would send it to the BIA office in Washington. In each office they would check to make sure that the land rightfully belonged to me and that I had the right to sell it or give it away. Then this paper would go back the way it came. All these people who handle the paper are getting paid from your tax money. All these BIA employees are getting paid these salaries from your taxes. The Indian people don't see this money and that's what you white people think when money Congress is allocated for certain programs; that the Indian people receive this money, but it doesn't. It pays all these BIA employees and runs this institution. The only Indians that get in on this money are the bureaucrats. Those Indians who have gotten their white man education and have gone into politics, they have become bureaucrats, and they are the Indians who get in on this money.

This white man education changes the Indian people. They go for the white man education and when they come back to their people, they're not the same. They become greedy and their dollar signs become important to them. Tribal politics has gotten as bad as white man politics. These young guys have come to the council. They have the white man's education, and they don't do for their people what they should. A guy like Frank who has good ideas and wants to help his people gets frustrated because there's nothing he can do every time he tries to do something, it gets outvoted. He tried to resign at the meeting here in Hays. I got real mad at him. I told him not to be a chicken and to stay there. I understand his frustrations. But so long as he's on that council and at the business meetings, they can't pull anything on people. He watches everything they do, and he won't let them get away with anything. We need Frank.

I'd run for the council if I could, but they have this rule that if you work for a government agency, you can't be on the tribal council. Since I work for the Public Health Service, I can't run. They bent this rule for another guy who worked for the BIA, but they wouldn't bend it for me. They wouldn't want me on the council. I couldn't be on the tribal council anyway. I work a full day at the hospital. I wouldn't have the time to go to the meetings and to work on all the committees they have. I have to earn a living and I couldn't put the time into the council that I should. The guys that are on the council now don't hold steady jobs. They can’t with all the committees they have to be on and the meetings. But they do all right for themselves. They get paid for all the meetings they go to, even if a couple of them meet together. And they also get a per diem for all the places they go to. All  the jobs from the tribe go through their hands and they get first pick. So, they can always get some kind of part time work. They also give first pick to their families on these jobs. They don't hold steady jobs, but they take care of themselves.

I asked Bertha why these guys aren't just voted out of office. She said that the people here just won't get motivated to vote.

They don't understand the power of their vote. We don't have an Indian school board member in Harlem because the people won't get out to vote and they keep putting in superintendents up there who are against the Indian. The one they have now is out, but the guy that replaced him is just as bad. The people here don't understand the power they have and how important it is to vote. When these voting days come around, they just don't get out. They're too lethargic. They've seen all the things the government has done to them and all the broken promises, and they just don't have the motivation to vote in any of these elections. There are times when I feel like going around from home to home and just take these people by the hair and pull them out to vote.

The government has taken away all the motivation out of them and all their integrity and self-esteem. What have they done for him, Gordon? He has all those kids, and he can't get work. There are times when his family has to go without food. The government is supposed to help the Indian people, but it doesn't. We don't see any of this money for all these programs. It used to be that you couldn't get the money even when it was allocated. I had a family and no job, and I went to get some help to feed and clothe my children. I wanted to apply for help, but they wouldn't let me do it. They said that I had a husband who could supply us. It didn't matter to them that we didn't even know where he was. The rules used to be strict to get money. It was sure bad. Now it's almost just the other way and it's really no better. Now they can get money without doing anything for it. This is just as bad as before. It's no good either. They give too much without doing anything for it. They're taking away all the pride and integrity of these men and women who get this money without working. They should find these men jobs and let them get back their motivation and self-esteem. They're not helping these people by just giving them this money.

The government hasn't done much to help the Indian people. People like Ray are completely discouraged with the whole business. He has so much in his head. There are so many things he could be doing. He could write down all that he knows about the Gros Ventre culture, and it could be so valuable, but he's so frustrated with the situation and he doesn't have much motivation left.

The government could have helped with these things that it didn't. (She pointed up to the bare side of the Little Rockies). After the fire, the BLM could have reseeded the mountains just like the way it was before. They let it go and they just started seeding a few years ago. Well, it won't take now because there's no soil up there. It's all washed down now. They let it go too long because it was on the reservation. If it had been off the reservation, they would have seeded it right away. They wouldn't have let it go like they did. To us here, it's just so damn discouraging about how the white man and the government have neglected the Indian people. So many broken promises and things like this.

Bertha said, “I could keep talking but you’ll never get it all.”

Things have sure changed here. The Gros Ventre are nothing like what they used to be. Our world used to be only in these valleys here in Hays. That’s all we knew. We didn’t know anything else. It was our whole world. We hardly even went to town. Maybe once when I was ten years old or so. Hays was all we knew. There was no electricity in Hays. The only place that had electricity was the old mission and they used a generator. Things have really changed. A lot of the older people couldn’t even comprehend the change that was going on in the world. I remember when the first aircraft carrier was built. There was an article about it in the newspaper and my father told my grandfather about it – Gros Ventre Johnny. My grandfather was living with us in our log house. He made my father go outside with him and step off the length of the aircraft carrier in the fields by our house. I can remember them standing outside doing this. He just couldn’t imagine a boat out in the water that an airplane could land on. A boat big enough for a plane to land on.

5-30-77  

Mike and I were visiting with Davey at his place. Davey said that once the Indians near the Agency had an argument with the white soldiers up there about who was more intelligent, the Indian or the white man.

So, they decided to have a contest. They were each going to send in scouts to the other’s camp to see if they could get in without getting caught. So, the white soldiers one night tried to get into the Indian camp and they were caught right away. The next night the Indians were going to try to get into the soldier’s camp. The soldiers put out a big dog to guard the captain’s tent. The Indian scouts got a she dog in heat and went into the camp. The guard dog took off after her. The Indians took the captain’s pants and all his clothes out of his tent and left. I was in New Guinea during the war, and something like this happened. Those aborigines over there were sure something. They were smart and sure good scouts. The soldiers gave them chalk and told them to try to infiltrate our camp. The next morning when we woke up, there was chalk on everything.

Mike and I had been asking people about the fences running from Hays to the Agency. The fences move into corners at right angles every quarter mile or so. Frank said that the reason for the fences being oriented like this is that they mark off people’s individual allotments. The allotments run east and west and the fences mark these off.

Roseann said that the oldest Gros Ventre died, Moses Carrywater. He fell off his bed and broke his hip yesterday. It was just too much for him. They took him to the hospital, but he died. He was living with his daughter (Nellie – her husband is Virgil).

5-31-77  

Gordon came up to the trailer to visit. He said that he was going up to the Agency to try to find work.

I’d like to find something soon, because I’m getting restless. You know, the people want the Gros Ventre culture, but if we talk to our bosses about leaving work for a few days to sing at pow wows, they don’t like to hear that. It’s tough for us to hold a steady job, because during the summer, we travel to pow wows almost every weekend. I don’t think I can work for the forest crew either. Virgil’s bosses said that he has to start equal opportunity, so he has to hire three women on the forest crew.

Memorial Day Pow Wow – Agency Gym

May 28, 1977

A Memorial Day pow wow and special dance was held at the Agency today. The Hays Singers were the host drum, and we drove Gordon and Edith to the dance.

We arrived at the Agency at 5:00. There were about 100 people there sitting around the gym on chairs, benches and bleachers. Gerald announced for the pow wow. It was supposed to start at 5:00 with a pipe ceremony and prayer. He said that it was done in the late afternoon. It was a combined memorial pow wow put on by the Chief Joseph’s Memorial group and by Marie Bear, for her husband, Wallace.

People sat around and talked until 6:00. The Hays Singers started ‘intertribals’ but no one danced. At 7:30, Gerald announced the memorial flag ceremony would be at 8:00. Only Toni Earthboy and Peggy Doney danced before the ceremony. Gerald said that eleven drums were invited but by 9:00, there were only four drums. Hays Singers, Red Bottom Singers (Ft. Peck), a Crow drum and the Black Lodge Singers (Eddie, Mike Talks Different, Quentin and a few others – Doney’s and Talks Differents). The Hays Singers were the host drum (Gordon, Edith, Bobby, Caroline, Wimpy Shortman, Ray, Lyle and Matt Gone).

About 400 people came to the pow wow. At 8:00 the Hays Singers sang a flag song. Everyone stood and removed their hats. Shortly after, Gerald began the memorial ceremony. There were about eight flags put up which had been used to cover the graves of veterans at their funerals. The American flags were donated by their families for their use in the ceremony, and the families chose one or two people to raise their flag. Each of the districts were represented by one of the deceased veterans and they read off the names of the veterans from WWII, the Korean and Vietnam Wars. The Hays Singers began an honor song. An honor guard marched in led by Elmer Main. He led the American flag and Montana flag in, followed by an honor guard of veterans carrying rifles, a few wore helmets, Quentin, Mike Talks Different, and others. Then the honor guard stopped facing the flags at attention. Another honor song was sung, and the flags were raised while people stood. Then a third honor song was sung and the honor guard marched out.

Intertribals with four drums went on for another hour and then the Wallace Bear give away went on, Marie, his wife, and her daughter and sons joined her. First a man sang two honor songs. One of them he wrote for the occasion. He sang it in Assiniboine. The Hays Singers also sang an honor song. The family and friends danced around the floor during the honor songs. The first time they danced around the wrong way and the second time, Gerald corrected them. Two boys led the dance holding two pictures of Wallace. Then the family brought all the materials for the giveaway. Gerald announced. He said that Wallace had been a veteran. They gave away pants, skirts with Indian design, made by one of Marie’s daughters. Star quilts to the pall bearers. And an afghan, blankets, shawls, colored tablecloths. The giveaway lasted for over an hour. Marie gave $10 to each of the drums and $5 to each of the Hays Singers for singing the honor song. Each person who received something went up and shook hands with each member of the family standing next to Gerald. Gerald and Jim Earthboy each received a silk ribbon shirt. Then the man who had sung the honor song sang an appreciation song for the family and the giveaway. Gerald asked for applause and people clapped loudly. The intertribal began again with each drum taking a turn around the room.

A lot of people began dancing. They put on their dancing outfits during the giveaway. Gerald announced during the giveaway that costumes could be put on during the giveaway. He kept saying that Wallace was in the happy hunting grounds. There were about 50 people dancing and there were about 20 men dancers. Only one man had his face painted with red covering his cheeks and forehead with yellow around the eyes. He was not from Ft. Belknap.

Susie and I left at 11:00. After we left, Preston Stiffarm (from Billings) had a giveaway and there was a feed put on by both the Chief Joseph group and the Bear family. The dance went on until 3:00. Jim and Beatrice got there at 4:30 in the afternoon and left at 3:00 in the morning. We sat in front of them.