ROOM FOR THE INDIANS
by
Dr. Robert Haldane Jr.
Copyright 1999
The year 1940 was the year of the World's Fair in New York City. Some of our friends were planning to go from northern Maine and it was an exciting prospect. Our parents called a family conference to give us a choice. We could make a trip of short duration to New York City for the Fair, or we could begin a year of saving and earning and plan a five-week trip to California for 1941. We elected to set our sights on California.
For a year we saved. Bets and I would often forgo an ice cream or other treat so the folks could put the nickels in the "pot." I saved pennies here and there and, occasionally, even a nickel. I kept a daily log, July 30 through Sept. 2, 1941. In the back of that book is an itemized and departmentalized budget accounting. I began the trip with $3.53 and I spent a total of $3.32. How times have changed - the economy as well as the life style!
Our California trip was significant, not only for the broadened perspective of this thirteen year old boy, but for experiences which would effect future plans and decisions. Most significant for the telling of this narrative about the creation of an Indian Room are the events of August 7, 1941. Because of the heat (and cars before air conditioning), we began those days early and found a cabin (overnight cabins had not yet been replaced with motels) in the early afternoon. So we left Kodoka, South Dakota by 5:15 a.m. that day. We entered the Badlands at 5:50 a.m. How we marveled at their beauty! My Dad stopped for gas at Cedar Pass, a Ranger Station and Trading Post then; today it is enlarged and modernized.
Nearby was a tipi. Being an energetic and uninhibited young thirteen year old, I ran to the open flap and right in! As always, eight year old Betty was right behind me. On a post at the back of the tipi was a buffalo headpiece. Probably because of the horns, I thought it must be a medicine-man's headgear. Drawn to it, my curious fingers were soon on it. Suddenly, a tall Lakota Sioux in full chief's headdress was beside me. He took the buffalo headpiece and placed it on my head! Betty then asked, "What can I wear?" The chief looked around, spotted some porcupine-quill "beads" and put them around her neck.
By then, our Dad was approaching, looking a bit apprehensive. The Indian handed him a card introducing himself as follows: "Dewey Beard, 79 years old, full-blooded Sioux Indian. Veteran of the Battle of Wounded Knee in which he lost his first wife and baby and was severely wounded himself." He posed for two pictures with Betty and me and one by himself. It cost 25 cents. Maybe that was why he had dressed us in native wear, but I don't think so. He sat and talked with us in some broken English, always rambling into Lakota. But we communicated. Taking a cue from the reference to the Battle of Wounded Knee, I asked him about battles he had been in - and asked if he had scalped people! He responded in mixed and broken words and unmistakable gestures. He communicated that we used to fight, but now we must learn to live in peace. He said he had seen too many killed: women and children, too. His eyes were soft and he put his arms around us. We knew that Dewey Beard loved children.
Wasu Maza, Iron Hail (Dewey Beard)
There was an old, abandoned schoolhouse about 100 yards back of Cedar Pass Station. He told us with few words but great sign-language skill that years ago, when the school was open, a young Sioux man had put on the headpiece I was wearing and had appeared in a school window, scaring the teacher! His eyes twinkled and he laughed heartily. This man changed forever my perception of "wild Indians," perhaps even more than Mrs. Sockalexis had. And I had only brushed, in this brief contact, the moving history and amazing facts of this man's life.
From there, we went to an "Indian village," according to my log. I now suppose it was Kyle on the Pine Ridge reservation. There I conversed with another Sioux man with better command of English, in full regalia and painted face! I suppose he was also looking for tourist change. We went through the Black Hills where there was still scaffolding on Teddy Roosevelt's face. We marveled at Mount Rushmore. We didn't dream Crazy Horse would one day have a mountain, too! (I'm glad he does!)
Mt. Rushmore, 1941 (under construction)
We stopped at Wall, South Dakota for a few souvenirs - long before it was to become Wall Drug, South Dakota, one fascinating tourist stop! And can you imagine Yellowstone before there were walkways between the geysers and hot pools? My foot broke through the crusty ground by "Hanky Pool," burning through my shoe but not enough to injure my foot, by the grace of God.
August 13, we stopped at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and then entered a Navajo reservation. I had never seen a hogan. I was entranced with their jewelry - a preview of my future love of Sedona and the mountains toward Flagstaff. The children were quite pesty with their begging, but we encouraged them with pennies and candy - who could resist those shining black eyes?
California was wonderful and left an impression that called me back in years to come. I almost chose U.C.L.A. for college, but the wind-down of World War II made Bangor (Maine) Seminary a better choice. One day I would be serving a church in Los Angeles!
August 22 found us driving east across the desert to Phoenix. In Arizona and in New Mexico, we saw Hopi, Zuni, Navajo, Pueblo and Apache Indians. Some sported brightly colored shawls and all sorts of native garb, while many others wore western (cowboy) clothing from hats to boots. I was impressed by the adobe villages, some occupied and some just abandoned ruins. The place of the "cliff dwellers," cliffside communities like Betatakin in Arizona's Tsegi Canyon continue to impress me.
Betatakin Cliff Dwellings
The southwest area of my Indian Room has pottery, Navajo stone and silver work, a sunburst of macrame with dream catchers, mounted steer horns, and a skull - many reminders of my expanded Indian awareness.
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