Sept. 30, 2004
IN
THE NEWS
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National Museum of the American
Indian in Washington D.C.
Photo by Judy Hodgson
Story & photos by JUDY HODGSONz
[Photo album at end of
story]
ABOUT 10 YEARS AGO MERV GEORGE
SR. WAS IN WASHINGTON, D.C., to testify before a congressional
committee on some issues. While he was there he decided to tour
the Smithsonian Natural History Museum's exhibit of the Hupa,
his own tribe. What he saw was a male mannequin standing with
a spear -- a weapon more appropriate for an African exhibit.
The female mannequin wearing a crude, matted horsehair wig and
a beaded dress that is normally used only for the tribe's sacred
dances was inexplicably grinding acorns, a kitchen chore. A young
child looking at the exhibit said to his mother, "Look Mommy,
she doesn't have clothes on" underneath the elaborately
beaded top of the dress. The mother replied that was how Indians
dressed in the old days -- long ago.
"I was embarrassed by it,"
George said earlier this month in an interview with the Journal.
He said he wanted to tell the Smithsonian visitors that the Hupa
are still very much alive -- that they still dance and sing and
practice their own religion. He wanted to tell them the Hupa
-- his people -- never fully stopped practicing their cultural
way of life despite decades of attempts at forced assimilation
by the U.S. government.
Front row left to right: Merv
George Sr., religious dance leader and keeper of the regalia
for the Hupa tribe; Laura Lee George; two of their 12 grandchildren,
Merv George III (behind) and Deja Rain George; and David Risling.
[Photo by Bob Hodgson]
George was silent and ashamed
that day in the old Smithsonian. But he was beaming with pride
last week as he, his family and other Hupa, Yurok, Tolowa, Wiyot
and Karuk from the North Coast, joined an estimated 25,000 other
Native Americans on the National Mall. With many in full regalia
-- and with great dignity and joy -- they walked toward the Capitol
that day to celebrate the opening of the newest Smithsonian:
the National Museum of the American Indian.
George [photo below left] ,
now 60, grew up on the Hoopa Reservation listening to stories.
(Hoopa is the land, Hupa are the people.) His mother told him
of the government-run boarding school she was forced to attend
as a girl when the reservation was occupied by federal troops
stationed there at Fort Gaston.
"It was a school they put
them in to teach them how to be a seamstress, leather worker,
[or] farmer," George said. "You weren't allowed to
speak your language. You weren't allowed to do your dances."
The federal government was not alone in its attempt
to "civilize" the Hupa. Christian churches sprang up
and, with the blessing of the government, competed for converts.
"At one time there must
have been seven or eight churches in the valley," George
said. "They were trying to get younger people involved.
What I didn't like when I was growing up is ... they used to
march us over to the Presbyterian Church from the school and
set us down and preach to us for an hour -- tell us we're going
to die, we're going to burn in Hell if we didn't believe.
"Do you know what that
does to an 8-year-old psyche? I used to go home and ask my mother,
am I going to die if I don't believe in that, what they believe
in?"
The obvious conflict is that
the Hupa have always had their own spiritual beliefs.
"From day one I was taught
that you believe in the spirit people," George said. "The
spirit people [take] care of us. We talk to them, we pray to
them. Everything has a life -- everything. Even the trees dance."
The Hupa religion is one based
on balance, explained George, who is the religious dance leader
of the tribe and keeper of the regalia. If there is a war going
on somewhere in the world as there is now [some Hupa are serving
in Iraq], if someone is sick, the Hupa dance and pray.
"Our Jump Dance is designed
for that -- to try to drive evil things, bad things, away [and]
bring back balance again," George said. The Deerskin Dance
is done before the Hupa set out to gather things -- deer meat,
fish, acorns -- "so we can live our lives in balance."
Some Hupa did convert to Christianity
and remain Christian today, creating a conflict of beliefs in
the tribe. For a time when the dances were forbidden, some tribal
members danced and prayed in secret in the hills. George's grandmother
told him of the time the Hupa tribe formally petitioned the federal
government for permission to perform their sacred dances, and
it was granted on one condition.
"They had to walk under
this [American] flag hanging in the tree up in Bald Hill,"
where the dances would end up.
George said in 1954 the government
wanted to make a reservoir out of the Hoopa Valley by putting
a dam near Weitchpec.
"I was a young fellow then,"
he said. He recalls that it was the sacred dances performed on
land that the government wanted to flood that raised questions
of religious freedom and eventually saved the valley.
George worked for the city of
Eureka for 30 years before he retired as a maintenance supervisor
six years ago. He raised his family in the city but always called
Hoopa home. He also has been a professional musician since he
was 12. Occasionally his band, the Merv George Band, comes out
of retirement, with his 31-year-old son, Merv George Jr., on
drums. His music -- the country tunes, rock 'n' roll and funk
-- are all retained in his memory. So are his tribal prayers,
songs and chants. He said he can sometimes still hear the voice
of his grandfather, who was also a gifted singer, in the back
of his head.
"There is nothing written.
People used to put them down on tapes [but] some of the songs
are nothing more than just sounds," he said.
"When I was growing up,
my mother told me, don't bother the people over there. They're
putting on a dance," George said. So he used to sit and
listen to the elders sing, and he learned from them.
George received his family's
dance regalia from his great uncle through his uncle. He was
chosen to lead the religious dances.
"It's handed down through
generations. We have always done these dances, no matter what
they [the federal government] tried to do to us."
Because
of his interest, knowledge and leadership position in the nearly
3,000-member tribe, George was recommended five years ago to
the Smithsonian as a consultant by David Risling, a retired professor
from UC-Davis and a tribal member. It was a great honor for the
Hupa because only 24 or the more than 400 tribes of the Americas
were chosen to have a major exhibit at the opening of the new
museum.
Museum officials came out to
Hoopa and asked if George would serve as a curator along with
his wife, Laura Lee George, assistant superintendent of the Klamath-Trinity
School District; his son, George Jr., a fisheries consultant;
and his daughter-in-law, Wendy George, a firefighter who serves
on the Hoopa Tribal Council. The four were flown back to Washington
to help identify artifacts and explain how they were used and
how they should be displayed. Some of the pieces were from the
original Smithsonian collection and many others were recently
donated as part of the collection of the late George Gustav Heye
of New York. Daughter Melodie George, a linguist who teaches
the Hupa language at Hoopa High School and Hoopa Elementary,
was also instrumental in the final design and content of the
new exhibit, as was Risling.
George Sr., in particular, was
excited about the project because of his experience a decade
ago. "[I thought] here's my way of trying to right the wrong
[of how] they depicted us back there."
In doing so, George chose a
path of cooperation with a government that unfairly treated his
people in the past. He even contributed a few modern items to
the current exhibit, including a ceremonial stick that holds
the museum's white deerskin. There are others in his tribe, he
said, who believe all artifacts possessed by the government and
private museums should be returned to the tribes, not just sacred
items and human remains. (See sidebar.)
The day dawned clear on Tuesday,
Sept. 21. Visitors arriving by the nearest Metro station two
blocks away emerged from the underground to see the sun rising
over the new $219 million museum, a tan edifice resembling the
windswept sand cliffs of the American Southwest. Approaching
from the rear along Maryland Avenue, the structure looks enormous
compared to the adjacent gleaming white Capitol dome.
In front of the museum entrance
on the Mall is a wetlands with a meandering stream and water
spilling over slabs of rock. Giant boulders, called grandfather
rocks, a sacred Native American symbol, dot the landscape, along
with native plants. Along one side is a vegetable garden of corn
and squash.
Early morning view on Maryland
Avenue.
A consulting firm created
a written architectural concept for the Smithsonian and its new
National Museum of the American Indian in 1991 that guided a
multi-year consultation process involving Native peoples. The
museum's architect and project designer is Douglas Cardinal (Blackfoot)
of Ottawa, Canada.
Groups of First Americans, the
term used during the opening week of celebration, representing
more than 400 tribes, began arriving shortly after daybreak.
Their regalia was sometimes more colorful, and certainly as varied,
as the birds of the world. From South America came one dignified
group in somber-tone handwoven plaid shirts buttoned up to the
neck. Turn another way and there was a proud warrior from Colombia
elaborately clad head to toe in peacock feathers, beads and gold.
Tribes gathered at the opposite
end of the Mall, past the Smithsonian Castle near the Washington
Monument. The plan was for each tribe to report to a color-and-number-coded
sign --3, for instance -- which were set up in neat rows. At
exactly 10 a.m. the tribes were to merge alphabetically into
two lines and proceed up the Mall to seats facing the stage in
front of the Capitol.
But the celebration began hours
early with impromptu performances of chanters, dancers and drummers,
groups posing for photographs and video cameras. Every once in
a while organizers would ask over a loudspeaker for one line
or another to move forward, closer toward the starting point.
Finally, about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, the procession surged
forward, with volunteers attempting in vain to keep the spectators
at bay. No one appeared to be the least bit upset about the festive
disorganization, except for a television news crew from MSNBC
who were jostled around.
The
mood of the participants was triumphant. It was the largest gathering
of Native Americans ever, and those participating sensed the
historic significance. Somewhere along the route, tribes starting
with the letter "S" began appearing before those with
an "M" and nobody cared.
Once settled in their seats,
the crowd listened to speeches by Sen. Daniel Inouye (D-Hawaii)
who, along with Sen. Ben Nighthorse Campbell (R-Colo.), sponsored
the 1989 legislation passed by Congress that mandated the museum's
construction. Inouye said it was nearly two decades ago that
he realized out of the 400 statues and monuments in D.C., there
was not one for the Native American -- a wrong that needed righting.
W. Richard West Jr., the museum's
director and a member of the Southern Cheyenne tribe, told the
gathering just prior to the ribbon cutting: "To those of
you within sight and sound of this occasion, and who descend
from those who came, welcome to Native America. And I say to
those of you who descend from the native ancestors, who are already
here, welcome home."
Due to crowds, estimated to
be about 80,000, only those with advanced tickets could actually
tour the museum that day. Inside visitors were greeted by a 120-foot-tall
glass-topped rotunda shaped like a perfect sphere and ringed
by balconies on each of the four levels. The first floor has
a main theater for stage plays, storytelling, dance and music
presentations. A cafe features cedar-planked salmon, nuts and
fresh berries, buffalo burgers and Indian frybread.
Approximately 8,000 objects
from the museum's permanent collection are on view throughout.
The Hupa exhibit, on the fourth floor, is part of three permanent
groupings called "Our Universes," "Our People"
and "Our Lives." These 24 inaugural exhibits will be
on display until at least 2006 when the museum will begin to
rotate exhibits from other tribes.
The George family and Risling
are featured in a photo gallery as curators near the entrance
to the Hupa exhibit. In the interview two weeks ago, George Sr.
said his son had previewed the final display last month and was
pleased, but he himself would be viewing it for the first time
at the opening.
Just
past the entry, visitors step through a round opening made of
wood that resembles a cedar plank house. (George said the museum
staff originally wanted to reconstruct an entire building but
there wasn't enough room.) Inside behind glass are artifacts
and mannequins in dance regalia authentically depicting the Hupa
people.
One Tolowa youth stared at a
male mannequin opening day and excitedly told a friend, "See
that headdress? That's just like mine. That looks like my tribe,
too."
Against the back curved wall
-- the building is entirely nonlinear -- is a small video screen
set in an open case lined with familiar river rock. On the screen
is a short video that plays continually. With a backdrop of spectacular
scenery from the Hoopa Reservation, Merv Sr. explains the healing
brush dance held in the church house. Melodie George talks of
the significance of the Flower Dance for young girls coming of
age, a dance that has been resurrected after a 25-year gap. Wendy
George tells visitors of the challenges facing basket makers
today because of herbicides on the basket reeds that are run
through the weaver's mouth as they work.
But it is Merv George Jr., a
fisheries specialist, on video who leaves a powerful and lasting
impression -- that this museum is about current events and issues,
not just the past. He explains that the Hoopa Reservation, the
largest is California, is dependent on the Trinity River.
"It is who we are. It runs
directly through the reservation like blood through our veins,"
he says. Yet today the tribe's life and culture continue to be
disrupted, threatened -- out of balance -- due to water diversion,
he says.
In 2001, on the third day of
the White Deerskin Dance, the dancers entered their dugout canoes
for a trip up the Trinity. That day, due to low water flows,
one canoe hit a rock, became stuck and began taking on water,
forcing the dancers out of the boat.
So the Hupa continue to dance
and pray for water to be returned to the river. In the meantime,
Merv George Jr. says, they are forced to periodically apply to
the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation to release more water from federal
government's dam upstream just prior to their sacred dances so
the canoes won't bottom out, throwing the ceremony -- and their
world -- out of balance.
MORE PHOTOS
BELOW
Poisoned
Relics
by
BOB DORAN
SEVEN-YEAR-OLD MERV GEORGE III,
GRANDSON OF the Hupa's keeper of regalia, walked proudly in the
procession celebrating the opening of the National Museum of
the American Indian last week wearing a traditional headdress,
a brilliant splash of red and white made by his father, Merv
George Jr., from white deerskin decorated with dozens of shining
woodpecker scalps.
A
similar headdress is stored in the Hoopa Tribal Museum on the
reservation. Double-wrapped in plastic bags, it's stashed away,
never to be worn. Even handling it requires protective gloves
since some long-forgotten cultural anthropologist treated it
with poisonous chemicals.
[Right: Historical
photo showing traditional headdresses made from white deerskin
decorated with dozens of shining woodpecker scalps from Jump
Dance held in Pecwan, Humboldt County, circa 1900.]
It's a dilemma faced by tribes
all over the United States. Federal law now allows them to retrieve
long lost artifacts stored in museums, but they often find the
objects, once vital elements of their culture, tainted by chemicals
used to preserve them.
An important element in the
Hupa religion is keeping the world in balance, a process that
involves periodic renewal ceremonies including the Jump Dance
and the White Deerskin Dance. Both involve ceremonial objects
and regalia. While some of the regalia has been passed down from
generation to generation, pieces were lost over the years, seized
by the military or sometimes traded away when times were hard.
The Native American Graves Protection
and Repatriation Act, signed by the first President Bush in 1990,
requires federally funded institutions like the Smithsonian to
return sacred objects and human remains, but not other artifacts,
to the tribes they were taken from.
Passage of the law allowed the
Hupa to seek the return of a number of ceremonial items -- headdresses,
dance costumes and baskets -- many of them taken away in the
early 1900s at a time when the federal government was trying
to "civilize" tribes by outlawing many of their cultural
practices.
Merv George Sr. recalled stories
about when the troops left. "They took wagon loads of this
stuff that they confiscated from people, loaded it up and headed
out."
Some of the tribe's artifacts
ended up in the collection of the Peabody Museum at Harvard University
in Cambridge, Mass. A few years ago David Hostler, who served
as curator for the Hoopa Tribal Museum, obtained an inventory
of the Peabody's holdings and traveled to Harvard to reclaim
items that once belonged to the tribe.
Hostler said he was surprised
when he arrived at the museum. Before he could look at the Hupa
pieces, museum officials insisted that he put on gloves and a
mask for protection from toxic materials.
"Some of the stuff [had
been] sprayed with arsenic and mercury and whatever else,"
said George. Turn-of-the-century museum curators, using preservation
methods from a time when awareness of toxic substances was negligible,
had rendered the Hupa sacred artifacts poisonous. In particular,
George recalled the woodpecker headdress.
"We can't use it,"
he said with a note of sadness. "It was so full of this
stuff, it was just oily. If you put it on, [the poison] goes
in your pores because you sweat. It's up in Hoopa in the museum,
but they've got it all wrapped up."
George said the tribe's relationship
with the Smithsonian is different, and the Hupa have not asked
for the return of items from its collection.
"Some people [think] we
should get all of it back. But I'm one who feels that I can work
with them. Maybe they could send the stuff when we dance. I could
tell them what we need ... and maybe [they] could send me some
feathers or a Jump Dance basket."
The loan-back idea was put into
practice a few years ago when George's granddaughter celebrated
her coming of age with a traditional Flower Dance.
In response to George's request,
a representative from the Smithsonian flew out to California
and hand delivered a woven hat to be used in the ceremony.
"They brought me a flower
dance hat. We danced for her and I wore it," George said.
"It was more or less a symbolic gesture on their part. I
gave it back and they put it back in the museum."
PHOTO
ALBUM
Washington, D.C.
Opening of the National Museum
of the American Indian
A number of the Yurok made the long trip to Washington, D.C.,
for the museum opening festivities; they took time to lobby for
more water for the trouble Klamath River.
Representing the Karuk tribe were (left to right) Lena Bommelyn,
Pimm Allen and Lyn Risling, granddaughter of David Risling.
Tribes from throughout the western hemisphere began gathering
on the National Mall soon after daybreak Sept. 21. More than
25,000 Indians representing 400 tribes took part in the procession
that wound its way east toward the Capitol and its new neighbor,
the National Museum of the American Indian.
A wall outside the exhibit listing the curators includes Merv.
George Sr. and David Risling.
Regalia that is most often used for the Jump Dance, a ceremony
that last many days and is used in hopes of driving away evils
such as sickness and war, to restore balance.
The White Deerskin Dance is performed every other year and is
used to pray for success in the gathering of fish, deer and other
sustenance.
W. Richard West Jr., the museum's director, delivered a blessing
in the native tongue of his tribe, the Southern Cheyenne, then
translated it into English: "The Great Mystery walks beside
you and walks beside your work, and touches all the good that
you attempt."
Melodie George explains the significance of xonta, the cedar
plank houses the Hupa used to live in. They are now used for
ceremonial gatherings such as at the beginning of the White Deerskin
Dance.
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