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Carl met me at the Sioux City Airport around three o'clock Friday afternoon, and we drove back to the reservation. The country south to Macy looked very much like southern Indiana in early 70s, hot, few hills, fewer trees, highway construction, dust, small dry streams. The terrain opened up once we passed the railway line; lots of corn and soybeans which from a distance seemed to be flourishing, but the soil looked dry. There is a cemetery around half a mile before the Macy turn-off. The road to Macy is nearly invisible: a Nebraska state historical marker containing a paragraph or two about Omaha Indians is the only indication a reservation is near. It stands on the left-hand side of a lazy-Y-shaped fork in the road—the town is down a side road to the right. There is a small, weathered sign advertising the Omaha Tribal Pow-wow with an arrow pointing towards Macy at the beginning of the turn-off.
A small group of early 1960s style, split-level, apparently single-family houses stands to the right of the approach to town. Some are abandoned and boarded up, and there are one or two single-story row apartment buildings in same area. Nearer to the center of Macy, on a slight hill to the right, were three brick municipal buildings—two rounded or multi-sided, one squarer with Indian motif decoration, and a larger rectangular brick building, which turned out to be a school, down a slight incline to left. Several small businesses which seemed to be variety stores or recreational halls stood on the left side of street; there was a large playing field about the size of a city block on the right. I could see several stores further ahead along the main street. Side streets contained a variety of homes and one or two story apartment buildings.
The Pow-wow was set up in a grove slightly west of the playing field. Cars parked close to the entrance; campsites were established either near the entrance or on the grassy ridge arcing around and above the main arena. Around 100 feet inside the entrance to the right was a small, well-shaded arena with portajohn facilities, several hand-operated water pumps, one or two rows of benches, and a low, covered shed at the eastern side.
Food concessions lined the path to the main arena. One or two of these operated from well-equipped trailers, others were tents or canvas-covered booths with coolers and cooking facilities. One booth housed video-arcade and pinball equipment, and seemed to draw a crowd of adolescents. The main arena resembled a stadium; rows of wooden risers, bisected by large opening at the eastern edge, curved around the dance ground, and a covered shed housing singers and drums occupied the center.
At a cluster of tables near the main arena, we came upon Dennis Hastings and Roger Welsch, who introduced me to John Carter and Ann Billesbach of the Willa Cather Museum —Carl had greeted everyone earlier that afternoon. Dennis then took Carl and me up to the speaker's stand on the western side of the main arena for an introduction to Clifford Wolfe, Sr., Master of Ceremonies for the event. We declined Mr. Wolfe's invitation to address the crowd at this time, preferring to wait until Saturday's official presentation of the cylinders. We met several members of the Pow-wow committee: Ida Anderson, treasurer; Elsie Harlan, public relations coordinator; and Clifford Wolfe, Jr., Vice Chairman, who acted as assistant Master of Ceremonies. We met Gayle Cable, a member of the Oklahoma Comanche nation who had married into the Omaha tribe and at one point during the afternoon we were introduced to K. D. Edwards who was interested in our recording arrangments, and who gave me a copy of Indian Chipmunks.
Although we chatted with several individuals who visited the speaker's stand from time to time, there was not much opportunity to talk to pow-wow officials. General or intertribal dances were still going on while we made our introductions, and close to the end of the afternoon session, there was a special honoring song for all veterans, during which most of men on the speaker's platform danced. At the beginning of the dance, several men danced out from the sides of the dance ground in a gradual clockwise spiral towards the singers. They were joined by individuals or small clusters during the course of the dance, who took care to fall behind the first row of dancers—Dennis joined the group, as did several women. The dancers formed small lines of between two and ten, rather like spokes of a wheel, radiating out from the center and moving in uniform, but not unison motion. The dance movements were at once similar and idiosyncratic. Most individuals used a basic walking step; knees slightly bent, shifting the weight from one hip to the other as alternate legs moved forward. In this basic step, it seemed, the feet remained close to the ground and the movements were small. Several men used a more vigorous double step in which they placed each foot down twice, the first time lightly, the second with more emphasis. The men kept their arms and shoulders relatively still while they danced. Women dancers draped dance shawls around their shoulders and arms and held the shawls in place by tucking their hands underneath the inside edges. The shawl seemed to constrain and define the upper torso movements of the women—with their hands positioned at waist level, the only visible upper torso movement was a very slight rotation of the shoulders.
The flag was lowered after the honoring song, and all the participants danced out of the arena. People had been moving towards the small arena for supper before the last dance was over, and by the time we arrived, the food lines were quite long. Supper consisted of boiled pork, baked beans, fry bread, cucumber, pickles, iced tea, coffee, and pie. We sat with Roger, John, Ann, and the two-man television crew filming for CBS: Ed Matney and Gary Tassone.
Judith Gray had sent along with Carl a cassette copy of Omaha and Winnebago cylinders recorded by Charles Wakefield Cadman in 1909. I showed the documentation to Dennis who was particularly pleased by the flute songs. He explained that although John Turner had been the
We wandered back to the arena in time for the Gourd Dance preceding the evening Grand Entry, and I sat with Roger, Ann, and John in the stands, rising occasionally to take photos. Gayle Cable introduced the Gourd Dance and was one of the few (perhaps a total of eight) dancers for it. The movements were similar to the walking step of the honoring dance: the dancers, wearing blue and red pow-wow shirts (men) or blue and red straight rectangular dance shawls (men and women) over ordinary clothes (around 2 feet long, draped around the neck and upper shoulders) were sitting on benches around the rim of the arena, and they stood up when the first drumbeats started. The men danced toward the singers at the center of the dance ground, and then stood facing the singers, dancing in place (flexing and straightening the knees) as the drumbeats increased in intensity—the women dance in place throughout the entire song. Also during this stationary dancing, the men carrying eagle feathers raised them slightly to about chin-level and shook them in rhythm towards the singers. They went back to their seats after each song, while the drummers continued a soft, steady drumming between dances.
This was my first reservation pow-wow (I had attended urban events in Minneapolis) and there was a great deal to take in. Although many people sat and watched from the stands, this was not strictly a spectator event. There were many layers of activity, many ways it seemed of looking at the organization of time and space within the event, many different kinds of activities going on both within and outside the arena. Most of the attention was focussed on the dancers; as I recall, there were no contest dances this evening but rather general dances or intertribals, specials (given in honor of a particular individual), a performance by the San Juan Indian Youth Dancers [see program], and an Oklahoma two-step. But there were also several small intersecting universes of activity and interaction on the periphery of the dance ground: young boys hawking soda and candy; the faint but unmistakable sound of rock music coming from radios and cassette players; movement to and from the concessions; parents dressing young dancers in contest costume.
The Grand Entry was spectacular but a bit overwhelming—too much to see and understand. The Whipman—David Blackbird—was the first dancer. He entered carrying a flag, and was followed by four ‘Tail Dancers’, then men and boy's traditional dancers, men and boy's fancy dancers, the Pow-wow Princess, women and girl's traditional dancers, and women and girl's fancy dancers. Although there were no contest dances, all costumed dancers displayed contest numbers on the front or back of their outfits. A cluster of dances followed, danced by individuals or groups, which were apparently intended to highlight the talents of and generally introduce dancers with specific functions in the event, such as the Whipman and the Tail Dancers. Mr. Wolfe gave a running commentary throughout in an effort to explain the various
There was a series of honoring songs for contest dancers and spectators more or less by tribal affiliation or by state. Omaha people came first, followed by the Winnebago, Sioux, and then dancers from various states, including Oklahoma and Florida. Each group danced by themselves once around the arena and some care was taken over choice and duration of songs. The Omaha danced to Hethu'shka songs; Sioux dancers were honored with fast Grass dance songs performed by the Honey Creek Singers, who were Sioux. A lone dancer from Florida danced around the arena—no other dancer joined her. The San Juan group was also honored, but seemed unsure at first of what to do. They started out on the dance ground with their drums, and Mr. Wolfe had to explain that they were not performing, but were being honored instead. Eventually, they entered into the spirit of the dance and two of the four singers tried out a few fancy dance steps as they went around the arena, much to the delight and approval of the crowd.
After several general dances, Mr. Wolfe announced an Oklahoma Two-Step, which proved to be a rather wild social line dance for couples. The Whipman and the Pow-wow Princes led the dancers, and soon a line of couples snaked and looped around the field at a seemingly frantic pace, which caused some couples to stumble and lose ground. At several intervals the front couple stopped and formed a bridge with their hands, through which the other couples danced and followed suit.
There was an interesting bit of interaction between the Whipman and two young women in traditional dance costume who were seated slightly in front of me. The Whipman seemed to have the task of encouraging contest dancers to participate in the general dances. During one of these, he paused and danced in place in front of these women, who did not move. After a while, one of the women got up and whispered to him and he danced away. Later that evening, there was a special honoring segment in which these two women were involved. A man carrying what looked like an eagle feather moved from the spot in front of the grandstand toward the drum shed. Facing away from the shed, he spoke quietly and waved the feather slightly, and after repeating this at each of the four sides of the shed, moved back to the front of the arena. The two young women stood together directly in front of the grandstand. The man, holding his eagle feather in one hand, passed his hands down the head and shoulders of each girl. Then the man, both girls, and family and friends participated in a honoring dance. The MC explained that this was a special dance marking the young women's return to the dance arena after a period of mourning, and the gestures the man used represented a symbolic combing of the women's hair.
Roger, who was understandably anxious about his expectant wife, left with the rest of the Lincoln group fairly early in the evening. Maria arrived around 9:30 and immediately discovered that her friends from San Juan Pueblo were featured performers at the pow-wow. In fact, she arrived just in time for their performance of the Buffalo Dance. All afternoon, I had heard about the San Juan dancers from
After breakfast Saturday morning, we drove back to Macy and parked on the grass behind the grandstand. Carl and Maria set up the recording equipment, while I cornered Dennis and Mr. Wolfe about the day's agenda. Friday afternoon, Dennis and I had tentatively agreed that the cylinder presentation would be announced after the four veteran songs and just before the introduction of the dances. We explained this several times to Mr. Wolfe, but he did not appear to be listening carefully, and repeated slightly differing agendas each time we raised the question of scheduling. He seemed especially to have difficulty remembering our names and the exact nature of the presentation.
Carl and I loaned our monaural cassette recorder to the Pow-wow committee to use as a playback system for our cassettes and for an Indian House cassette of Kiowa Gourd Dances played as background music preceding the afternoon's activities. Mr. Wolfe also wanted to play Hethu'shka songs. The clearest recordings of these songs were on the complete set of Omaha tapes we brought and had cued for the presentation, but after some confusion, and taking care not to let the tape run on to the more sensitive cut following the last Hethu'shka song, we managed to play the tape. Maria and I then discussed our own agenda for the presentation, and re-cued the tape. We also arranged to play the cut of Omaha flute songs on the tape of Cadman cylinders.
During a lull in the preparations, I took the opportunity to interview Mr. Wolfe about the pow-wow in general, and his role as Master of Ceremonies [see accompanying tape log]. The grandstand served as the focal point of the business of running the event. Through most of the day, Joseph H. Harlan, Sr., Chairman of the Pow-wow Committee, Ida Anderson, and Elsie Harlan hovered in the vicinity of the stand, ready to receive and send messages. Mr. Wolfe, his son, Clifford Wolfe, Jr., who was Vice Chairman of the committee, and Gayle Cable, made announcements concerning the event schedule, lost children or keys, meal plans, and frequent reminders to contest dancers to prepare for the afternoon Grand Entry. Although Mr. Wolfe was not the only one using the microphone, he seemed to exert a certain amount of control over the flow of information through the PA system, and as it later turned out, a great deal of control over the agenda and order of songs.
I asked him about the women singers who sat or stood around the periphery of the drum. He agreed they were a nice addition, and said the Omaha called them their “canaries” and they would “finish out” the songs that the men started.
I returned to the grandstand to watch the series of Gourd Dances which started around 1:30 pm. Again, there were only a few dancers in the arena—I counted eight—and only a few spectators. Most people were either still eating lunch, or else just waiting for the Grand Entry. After the last Gourd Dance song, Clifford Wolfe, Jr. made a few announcements calling one person to the Ambulance Station, reminding the judges to be ready during the afternoon for the “tiny tots” contest, and announcing the clown competition. He then addressed and thanked the gourd dancers and singers, singling out the head singer and someone named Uncle Billy for special attention, and turned the microphone over to his father.
Special attention was paid to senior citizens during the afternoon session. Frail and wheelchair bound elders from the Health Center were led into the arena by hospital attendants and volunteers and seated in front of the benches immediately to the right of the grandstand. This place was especially set aside for them—people who attempted to sit there were gently told the spot was reserved.
By this time it was close to two o'clock and it was clear the event was running slightly behind schedule. Several announcements urged the dancers to assemble near the arena entrance, and the elder Mr. Wolfe made a special appeal to the War Dancers both in English and Omaha. He filled the time by informing the audience that he would try to explain as much about the dances as possible, and then launched into a brief discourse about language, saying that he would at times be speaking in Omaha. He told the audience that Omaha was his first language—he didn't learn English until he went away to boarding school—and that he learned German during World War II. He and other speakers used English for most announcements and general patter, Omaha for things that really mattered: what sounded like admonitions and chastizing remarks to parents to keep children in line, drummers to stop drumming during announcements, or emotions too complex or strong to express in English. His son made another announcement concerning meals for visitors and reminded the dance contestants to allow the secretaries in front to see their contest numbers.
It took a while for the drummers and singers as well, the Grand Entry began around 2:10. It looked as though the cue to start drumming passed to the drum from the arena directors rather than from the grandstand; Mr. Wolfe hesitated just a fraction before asking the spectators to rise.
Mr. Wolfe again identified the dancers as they passed close to the grandstand. The Whipman, carrying an American flag and pole, was the first dancer to enter the arena. He was followed by the four Tail dancers dressed in traditional costume, who were all Omaha: Kwana Parker, Peewee Lumbo, Rudy Mitchell, and Howard Wolfe [another of Mr. Wolfe's sons. Mr. Wolfe bobbled Rudy Mitchell's name, calling him Rudy Clark at first and then correcting himself. He immediately apologized for his mistake]. Other traditional dancers came next: Rick and Rob Thomas (brothers), Santee Sioux; an unidentified dancer from South Dakota; Morgan Lovejoy, Omaha; Gary Thomas [“another one of the Thomas brothers”]; Joe Hallowell, Omaha; Joe Snowball, Omaha and Winnebago; an unidentified Oklahoma dancer; Winston Saber, Omaha; Tom Wolfe, Omaha; K. D. Edwards from Oklahoma; Edgar Halland or Holland; Grover? Holland.
Everyone remained standing for the Flag song, and then sat down for the start of the four war dance (Hethu' shka) songs. These songs were specially framed within the event. The Whipman danced out first, followed by the Tail Dancers, and then those dancers in costume. There was a break—a full stop in the dancing in which everyone sat down and the Tail Dancers came out again to dance what was called “the encore”, a kind of coda which lasted about 15 seconds. The drumming resumed for the encore only after everyone was seated, but there was virtually no pause between the end of the encore and the beginning of the next song. This was the only segment during a session in which the encore was danced by the Tail Dancers alone. Mr. Wolfe explained that this was the traditional Omaha way, but now, since the pow-wow was “commercialized” (his word), it would only be done for the first four dances.
After the finish of the last war dance, the Native American Public Broadcasting Consortium from Lincoln, Nebraska gave a public gift of $100 to the Pow-wow Committee. This was one of the frequent lulls which gave the dancers a chance to rest, and in which other kinds of activities were conducted: gifts, specials, honorings, speeches, introductions, and presentations. Elmer Blackbird, chairman of the Omaha Tribal Council, addressed the crowd first in Omaha, and then in English. The English language speech touched on history and tradition, emphasizing the social and familial nature of the event, and thanked the visitors for attending.
Next came a series of recognition dances for three key performers: Whipman; Tail Dancers, who danced to a Hethu'shka song; and the Pow-wow Princess. Again, the special nature of the Hethu'shka dance was recognized. All dancers were asked to rise for the Tail Dancers and Mr. Wolfe mentioned again that the Omaha originated the war dance.
The host drum had been the principal performers to this point, but after the recognition dances, the other drums sang more frequently. The “number 2 drum” (Tai Piah) sang the next dance, which was an intertribal or “general” dance (the host drum alternated with the two guest drums throughout the event). This time, everyone danced the tail, and participants included non-contest dancers. General business announcements continued through the dances.
Our presentation had been scheduled for the interval between the recognition dances and the first intertribals, but the intertribals came first. We expected to speak when Mr. Wolfe cleared the arena after the first dance set, but instead, the Tribal Chairman introduced two state government representatives: Bill Kerry, Governor Robert
There was a second set of general dances and the arena was cleared again. Again we expected to speak, but this time Betty Logdon, researcher from the Nebraska State Historical Society, gave a short speech on Susette La Flesche who had recently been inducted into the Nebraska Hall of Fame. The San Juan group performed the Eagle Dance following the presentation, and we began to wonder if Mr. Wolfe was going to introduce us at all. Finally, he turned and asked me what our names were and how I wanted him to introduce us, and assured me that we would be next. But when the San Juan group was finished, he turned the mike over to Rob Thomas, who gave a speech commenting on the debut of his year-old son at last year's pow-wow and a gift to the pow-wow committee, and then called for more intertribals.
Our presentation came after this third set of general dances. I gave a brief introduction, and handed the microphone to Maria who discussed the Fletcher/La Flesche collection and played and explained the tape of the Hethu' shka songs. For the second song, the MC called the Tail Dancers to dance, and then during each of the subsequent songs called the traditional dancers to dance to the cylinders. The songs were much too short for serious dancing; the first dancers had hardly gotten started before the song ended. At first, everyone sat down between songs as was customary, but as it became clear that the songs were not long, all the dancers remained standing, and eventually, even danced during the introductory verse. I'm not sure about the reaction to dancing to the songs—clearly, Mr. Wolfe controlled this portion of the presentation and calling for dancers was entirely his idea. I think at the time, I was not wholly comfortable during the dancing and in retrospect, I am even less so now. But the day after the presentation, Ida Anderson said, “It did something to me to see those young dancers dancing to those old songs.” I could not tell from the reaction of the dancers themselves how they felt about dancing to the cylinders.
The tape playing ended with the Omaha flute selection from the Cadman collection, and Maria discussed our plans for the record album. I concluded the segment with a formal presentation of the tapes to Elmer Blackbird. Dennis had remained on the grandstand during the entire presentation but did not speak, and was not publically acknowledged. But during the general dance that followed, Mr. Wolfe touched Dennis on the shoulder and said “Nice job.”
After the second general dance, the Pow-wow Princess had a special which she specifically requested Jacob Drum to sing. During the honoring dance preceding giveaways, one individual, usually the person speaking on behalf of the family, carried either a blanket or a hat in which to collect money. Other people would either fall in behind the line of dancers without giving money, give money and return to the benches, or give money and join the dancers. Those giving the specials
It seemed as if the words of speakers during specials were carefully listened to and judged—weighed for appropriateness. The speeches followed a basic pattern: speakers expressed gratitude to various individuals, both individually and collectively, for past assistance and kindnesses in times of need; they freely confessed or acknowledged personal shortcomings [temper; a youth's behavioral problems]; they apologized for the inadequacy of the gifts to be presented and at the same time, apologized to those for whom there were to be no gifts. The MC took his cue from the special's giver, repeating or interpreting words the giver said privately to him. Several honoring songs and giveaways followed before the end of the afternoon session around 5:30.
By the end of the afternoon session, the heat and release of tension had tired us, and after a brief photo session at Maria's camper, Maria and I bought supper (fry dogs) at one of the stands, and wandered up to the ridge behind the concessions. While we were sitting on the grass, a man who identified himself as Ponca, came up to speak to us. He began a long monologue about pow-wows in general, and about his efforts to encourage young people (I believe he said he was involved in scouting) and then interjected—almost as an afterthought—a comment on the afternoon's cylinder presentation, and how he thought it would benefit other tribes as well. The comment was so deeply imbedded in his conversation that Maria and I almost missed it.
The Grand Entry that evening began a little after eight. There were close to 100 dancers, announced in the same way as in the afternoon session. The Whipman was followed by the Tail Dancers, male traditional dancers, fancy dancers, Pow-wow Princess, senior citizens, women and girl's traditional cloth dancers, women and girl's shawl dancers, young girl's cloth dancers, and the San Juan Pueblo group. This time, I had the leisure to observe the other participants in the arena, including the three men who served as Arena Directors. These seemed to be responsible for maintaining order within the arena, pointing participants in the proper direction, escorting contestants, and shooing dogs and children out of the arena with long thin white wands. They also wet down the arena between each session. The two water boys circled the inner benches with galvanized steel buckets and dippers following dances, serving only the dancers.
There was no separate honoring song for the Pow-wow Princess this evening; rather she was introduced along with the singers; arena directors, water boys, and Pow-wow Committee.
The Honey Creek Singers played what Maria termed a Sneak Up Dance. in which a slightly rubato, very high introductory section to a tremelo drumming accompaniment was followed by a vigorous fast song. During the tremolo section, traditional dancers walked about 10 yards forward
This was the first contest night, and most of the evening was devoted to “Tiny Tots” and young people. The chief judge was a man who had been a dancer for many years. He had charge of around 10 or 12 other judges: 6 or 7 men and 4 or 5 women. All afternoon, several women had sat in the grandstand recording names and contest numbers in a teacher's rollbook. That evening, some of these same women sat at a table just below the grandstand to record the votes of the judges. I spent part of the evening with Mr. Harlan on the grandstand, trying to learn about criteria for judging the dancers. For the most part, he said, the judges look for three main things: stopping with the drum with both feet together; holding on to the regalia—making sure that no bits of regalia fall off during the dance; and for costume. There seemed to be a great deal of leeway within these categories, and there was the additional, loosely defined area of individual style.
Judging children, especially the very young tiny tots—6 and under, has always seemed to me the most difficult. At first it seemed costuming weighed more heavily than dance style; a prize in the tiny tots division really went to the parents for costume design, as much as to the child for performing in an appropriate manner. Parents were partially responsible for younger children's regalia. One young contestant had her number upside down, and the MC addressed a general admonition to grandmothers to check their youngster's costume. Several of the small children proved to be remarkably fine dancers, and they were awarded prizes for skill. There were also several children who seemed too young to know what was going on—they couldn't have been older than 2—and they had to be prodded and coached by their parents from the sidelines. There was no disgrace in forgetting what they were supposed to be doing and running for the nearest parent. Conventional rules were overlooked as mothers dashed out to the center of the arena during a contest to point an errant contestant in the right direction. The very young were apparently there to gain experience—the emphasis was on cuteness, but the older ones took themselves and were taken seriously.
After the first contest—Tiny Tots Shawl (girls)—there was a large Jr. Girl's (7–12) Shawl group which had to be divided into two parts. The songs got progressively more difficult for the older children. Arena directors were in charge of weeding out and culling the contestants; making sure the right ones were in the arena at the right time and gently but firmly removing those who had made a mistake. Only one boy appeared for the Tiny Tots Fancy Dance contest, but he was allowed to perform anyway. Following the Jr. Boy's Fancy Dance (7–12), there was a general dance.
The presentation of genealogies to about 20 people by Paul Brill followed. Brill, a non-Indian, had apparently been of great help to the tribe during the latest enrollment, and with Dennis's cooperation, was at work preparing detailed genealogies of individual families. He was honored with a special—and danced around the arena in the company of Alfred Gilpin, whom he had asked to speak for him at the presentation. I cannot remember if he was given money or gifts during
Maria danced in one of the general dances that filled the interval between the special and the San Juan Butterfly Dance. Since the Butterfly dance is performed to the cardinal directions, Carl followed the singers with pole-held microphones.
Elimination dances for the earlier children's contests began after the Butterfly Dance. Contestants were called by number, but several did not show up. It was fairly late by then; both parents and children were tired, and Mr. Wolfe was obviously trying to speed things up.
Carl went out to the center again for the San Juan Buffalo Dance, but missed the beginning. There was one more special, and then the Grand Finale. We finally clocked into Lyons around 2 am.
We arrived at the arena Sunday morning just in time to see the end of what appeared to be an outdoor evangelical Protestant church service. There were more non-Indian than Indian worshippers in the small cluster of people who remained and several visitors who came seemed prepared to stay for the afternoon's pow-wow. Carl, Maria, and I walked around the grounds, and stopped at the small arena where Ida Anderson and two other women on the Pow-wow Committee were shucking corn for the evening buffalo barbecue. The corn had been donated by a farmer and picked fresh that morning. Ida said the buffalo were culled from a herd in a state preserve and set aside for use by the state's Indian communities. Omaha Indian farmers raised them with their own cattle until they were ready to be slaughtered.
Carl asked Rufus White, the head singer, if he could photograph the host drum. Around 10 singers assembled for the shot; three more drummers joined the drum a few minutes after the photograph, and several others went out to the dance shed in the few minutes just before and after the Grand Entry.
There were several calls to the Whipman before the afternoon session started, but the flag was brought in by Kwana Parker, one of the Tail Dancers, rather than David Blackbird. The Whipman joined the line just before the women, but the MC did not introduce him to the
They changed the order of entry this time. The Pow-wow Princess followed the flag-bearer, and was in turn followed by the Tail Dancers, Pow-wow Committee, male contestants, senior citizens, female dancers, and the San Juan group. During one of the victory dances, I noticed what seemed to be an entire family of women—at least three generations—dancing together in one line. Usually during a song, there are several special drum cues—sharp accents—after which the drum volume immediately drops. At this cue, women will turn slightly (about a 45 degree angle) away from the drum for a single measure and turn back towards the line. This group of women executed the turn in unison.
After the recognition songs for the Whipman and Tail Dancers, Carl presented the first of our gifts: a $25 check to the host drum. While Rufus White came up to receive the check, the MC made a few remarks thanking us for bringing the cylinders back to the Omaha people and for “putting us on the map.” Carl gave a brief thank you speech expressing our pleasure at being allowed to participate in the pow-wow, to which Mr. Wolfe replied “Danke schön (the MC was greatly taken with Carl's Germanness— ‘danke schön’ frequently punctuated his remarks), and took to the center of the arena again to record the San Juan Buffalo Dance.
Dennis introduced James Denning to our group. Mr. Denning, a columnist for Midland Magazine which is a weekly insert appearing in the Sunday edition of the Omaha World-Herald, wanted to photograph the Hethu'shka dance and asked us to tell him when the next set started. Unfortunately, at that point, the women's competitions had begun and no traditional dances were scheduled until later. He did take the opportunity to interview me concerning the cylinder presentation and the Federal Cylinder Project, and promised to send a copy of the article when it appeared.
There was a special for the family of John Turner which was slightly unusual because there were two songs sung—the dancers went around twice. The first song was a stunningly beautiful honoring song—slow, with muted drum; the second a war dance song composed by John Turner. Clifford Wolfe's adopted son started both songs. During the giveaway that followed, money was given to the singer and drums, the Pow-wow committee, and the Native American Church, and gifts of blankets and shawls to the head singer and his wife, the Whipman and his family, the Pow-wow Princess, and the Tail Dancers among others. All recipients circled clockwise around the arena before coming up to receive their gifts. In a surprising gesture, Kenny Blackbird, one of Turner's grandsons, played one of the flute songs from the tape of Cadman cylinders. Unfortunately, we missed about the first five seconds of the song.
Most of the rest of the afternoon was devoted to competitions and general dances; at one point, Paul Brill handed out more genealogies. Towards the close of the session, another special was conducted, this time for Blaine Mitchell, a U. S. Marine on leave from overseas.
The San Juan group ended their appearance at the pow-wow with a Buffalo Dance and two farewell songs. Members of the Pow-wow Committee gave blankets and shawls to some of the dancers, and the group left the arena to a brief honoring song. A special for Rudy Miller, in whose honor the flag was lowered, preceded the Grand Finale.
I spent part of the interval between the afternoon and evening sessions chatting with John Millar of Nebraska ETV. He said the taping of the pow-wow was actually the culmination of a much longer documentary project on the Omaha people, and said we would be able to negotiate some spare footage from them. The buffalo barbecue was held in the small arena—by the time I arrived, they had run out of plates and corn, but the buffalo, served on a hamburger bun with barbecue sauce, was delicious.
It was clear that many people were tired by the evening session. Some singers were on the verge of losing their voices, and several contestants did not stay to hear the results of the competition. During this last Grand Entry, which started around 8:05, senior citizens followed the youngest traditional dancers, and in turn were followed by two officials of the Native American Church.
There were many more interruptions for speeches and specials this evening than in earlier session, as if people suddenly realized this was their last chance to do so. Joseph Harlan Sr., chairman of the Pow-wow Committee gave a brief speech thanking all of the participants and the “paying customers”. The Tail Dancers danced a special, and Wallace Coffee spoke on behalf of one of the Tail Dancers who had been asked to substitute for another by the Pow-wow Committee. [The guest Tail Dancer presented a gift to the Pow-wow Princess because he admired her, and because she “handles herself in a womanly way.”]
Sam Robinson was the lead singer for the Green Corn Dance, a social couple dance which was probably requested by some of the participants from Oklahoma. The Pow-wow Princess and Whipman started out as they did the other social dance, and since the MC declared that this was ladies' choice, women chose partners and danced out into the arena. The dancing seemed subdued and there was none of the intricate weaving and patterning as in Friday night's Two-Step; the couples either danced side-by-side in a continuous line, or joined hands and danced in a circle.
During one of the general dances that followed, Douglas Mitchell, a young traditional dancer who couldn't have been older than 7, stepped over the benches that formed the inner-most ring of the arena. He said one of the clowns had been chasing him and he was scared so we talked a while about dancing. He was very serious about his technique—he watched the older traditional dancers closely and commented on subtle aspects of style (he later won first prize in his division). When one of the older dancers began to crouch in a tracking motion, he said “He got down there—I get down like that too,” and he exclaimed in approval when another dancer raised his eagle feather.
The clowns did not seem terribly ferocious, but their covered faces and mildly outragous actions seemed to frighten some of the younger children. The clown dancers were apparently not intended to be taken seriously, and there was a bit of clowning between one of the dancers and one of the arena directors. Clown costumes were take-offs
More women participated in the general dances towards the end of the evening, and I had a chance to observe them more closely. At first, I thought there was only one basic walking step for women's general dancing, but after a while, it was apparent there was more variety to the dance movements than that. Most women participating in the general dance used the basic step which consisted of walking forward in rhythm but with feet angled slightly outward, and a slight bounce in the knees which caused the hips to sway a bit, the draped shawl defining the upper body movement. The women dressed in traditional costume used a distinctive but subtle variation on this movement: the same posture—erect, but tilted slightly forward from the waist; the emphasis, as in all of the dances I observed, on an upward movement [perhaps more precisely, upward thrust with the downbeat], but more pronounced knee flexing creating more up and down movement; shifting the arms forward slightly while raising the shoulders. Traditional women dancers did not drape the shawl over the shoulders but rather carried the folded shawl across one crooked arm—the other hand held an eagle feather, the arm straight and relaxed. The overall effect was of someone tall and willowy tottering gracefully in the breeze—there was something precarious about this dance style. There was a third general dance movement, which consisted principally of bobbing up and down in place on the sidelines.
The men's contest dances were more stylized. Traditional dancers imitate the motions of warriors tracking the enemy, so foot movements tend to be small, knees are deeply flexed, and the torso alternately angles forward from the waist with the back slightly arched and straightens so the dancer stands erect. There is little shoulder movement—like the women's costume, the men's regalia tends to restrain and define the upper body stance. The one mobile hand carries an eagle feather, the other crooked hand carries a blanket or circular shield. However, like the idiosyncratic men's fancy dances and unlike the more stylized women's dance, the men's traditional dance uses twists and turns, leading from the shoulder, rather than the arm.
The men's fancy dance is much too difficult to describe without more detailed study. Each dancer seems to have his own style, and the movements are free form; the dancer selects kinemes from the pool of kinetic motifs and choreographs a routine, but adapts a dance sequence to fit a particular song. The crucial moments are the two endings. A misstep at either ending would automatically disqualify a contestant. The MC praised dancers who monitored their own movements and walked off the arena after missing a beat or dropping a feather. Although the
Several specials and bits of business preceded the announcement of the contest winners. There was a memorial for the son of the Pow-wow Committee chairman, a special for the head singer, and honoring songs for judges, the new Pow-wow Committee, and the Pow-wow Princess. By the time the contest winners were announced, many of the dancers had removed their costumes, and some had gone home. Few dancers remained to dance Grand Finale. At the end of the pow-wow, we looked for Kenny Blackbird. We had wanted to rerecord the flute piece he performed at the John Turner special, and at Dennis' suggestion, I asked him for an interview, but he refused; in fact, he seemed reluctant to even talk to me, despite Dennis' assurances that he liked to talk.
The sniffles I had fought the day before turned into a full-fledged cold by the time I joined Carl and Maria for breakfast, and Carl's insect bites looked much more severe. We were both fairly tired, and spent the morning cleaning and packing equipment. After Maria left, we went back to the reservation. As we drove through the pow-wow grounds, we could see a funeral in progress at the small arena.
Since Carl was still feeling unwell after lunch, Dennis suggested we take advantage of the Health Center. Clifford Wolfe was also at the Center getting treatment for a sick granddaughter, and we chatted about the pow-wow. He wanted our opinion about the specials this weekend; he feared the large number of giveaways had turned off non-Indian
It was clear by this time that neither of us were feeling well enough to pursue formal interviews with participants that afternoon, so we drove for a while along the back roads of the reservation. Carl took scenic views of the Missouri river, and we drove back to Lyons by way of a small town which housed the John A. Niederhardt Museum [Niederhardt wrote
Black Elk Speaks
] and the Sioux Peace Garden.
We left Lyons around 9 am and arrived in Omaha about an hour and a half later, in time to return the microphone cable we borrowed from John Millar of the University of Nebraska. We shipped the equipment ahead by air freight, boarded our plane, and arrived back in Washington by 6 pm.
This pow-wow was very much different from the ones I attended in Minneapolis. It was an intimate, community affair, rather like a high school homecoming, with an emphasis on family and tradition, and a great deal of frequently but tentatively expressed tribal pride. In fact at first, there appeared to be an interjection of the sacred or at least spiritual into an event in which the projected intent was secular, but it gradually occurred to me that it was rather the other way around—this was an essentially spiritual event made secular.
Mr. Wolfe often referred to the media attention, saying this would finally put the Omaha people on the map, and encouraged visitors, whom he called “paying customers,” to take pictures. This constant patter of explanation and comment seemed new as well. I got the impression that few non-Indians had attended previous pow-wows, and that there was some strain in keeping visitors informed and welcome. It was as if the public had been invited to a private family gathering—there were apologies for or in anticipation of bad behavior, and a general sense of control and restraint.
The media seemed a constant and slightly intrusive presence, but perhaps I was too guiltily sensitive. Cables and cameras were everywhere [at one point there were four camera crews in the arena], the press danced around the arena with contestants, cornered pow-wow officials, and interviewed startled members of the audience. One fancy dance contestant who was momentarily distracted by a photographer missed the end beat of the drum, and had to disqualify himself. I don't know how the participants felt about all of this media attention. There were a few jokes about photographs, and one of the committee members said he would be right back, in case someone wanted his autograph.
I also wondered about reactions to the cylinder presentation. A young lawyer working for the tribe said she thought people were pleased by the event. Reactions gradually emerged during the rest of the pow-wow, hidden within other conversational event contexts. Several people mentioned the cylinders at specials. In his speech at the Paul Brill special, Alfred Gilpin said “...today, you Omaha people had something that was very historical. I was very proud, and yet—with the songs that you heard this afternoon that you dancers danced to, it brought a lump to my throat to hear those old Omaha people singing the songs that came from this host drum here throughout this pow-wow. Those songs that you heard are what we are still carrying—and how many years is that... Now this afternoon when we heard those recordings from the cylinders brought out of the archives, we heard some voices. There are relatives among you here that heard your relative's recordings of voices. . . .”
It seemed too that the importance of the recordings to the Omaha lay not in the return of the recordings and the songs on the recordings, although the contents of the tapes may assume more importance when tribal elders begin to listen to the more sacred songs, but the fact that the songs were still part of the Omaha repertory after nearly a century. The singers especially seemed most proud of this, and Rufus White said several times “I know that song; we still sing that song.”
Dennis, in a pre-event telephone conversation, said that he would play his role behind the scenes, pushing and prodding from the background, bringing everything together, and then sitting back and pretending it had all happened by magic. And essentially that is precisely how it appeared. The cylinder presentation was only one part of Dennis' rather amazing orchestration, which included the Suzette La Flesche Nebraska Hall of Fame award, a collection of photos which people poured through looking for relatives, what amounted to national media attention, attendance by representatives of the state historical societies, and the genealogies. Indeed, apart from the John Turner memorial, the most moving event, the one in which the sense of wondering pride was clearly visible in the faces of the Omaha people, was the presentation of genealogies by Paul Brill. At that point, I think, there was a tangible change in attitude—all of the abstract talk about Omaha accomplishment became real, concrete, and personal to the participants. The cylinders were given symbolically to the tribe as a whole, but the genealogies could be taken home and shared with family and friends.
The reactions of people within the community to the return of cultural materials will, I suspect, manifest themselves slowly, and in subtle ways. The real test of the effects of the various presentations will be next year's pow-wow.
Dorothy Sara Lee
3 September 1983