Dancing with the Indians
During the summer of '48 I joined a crew of Anthropologists who were unearthing an Upper Republican site on Prairie Dog Creek, east of Alma. Later in the summer we joined a crew of Paleontologists at Medicine Creek, north of Cambridge. Both crews were hurrying to complete their work before lakes covered those sites. Both groups were distinguished by interesting and colorful characters -- none more so than Jim (Howie) Howard.
Howie was a fellow who was born 100 years too late. He would dearly have loved to be born an Indian, living in the 19th century. As it was, he did everything he could to correct that mistake. He was a walking encyclopedia on the Plains Indians, particularly the Sioux, whose reservation was close to his home in S.D. He was using his GI Bill to study Archaeology.
Howie was different. Some thought he was downright strange. Though he could be witty and engrossing as a storyteller, he was moody. He would sometimes sit silently for hours, staring into space, working out some sort of Anthropologic problem in his mind. Once, while we were in the field, Howie came down with a severe cold or flu. He immediately went off by himself and spent 24 hours in a small tent, isolated from the group without either food or water. During that day and night we could hear him softly beating on a small drum and singing eerie (Indian) songs. After that day of isolation he rejoined our group at breakfast. He was completely cured---in a good mood, with a voracious appetite. His cure was miraculous, but he was evasive about it, vaguely mentioning Siouan rituals, and quickly changing the subject.
Though we worked hard during the day, unearthing artifacts, sorting and cataloguing our finds, there was leisure time in the evenings, around campfires, and the stories that the old timers told were spellbinding. But there was also time for Howie to teach us (mostly me) about Indian dances. Howie had participated in many Siouan dances, and had been designated by the one of the tribes as an honorary member. He even made his own costumes. He purchased his materials from the same sources as did the Indians, and his headdresses were so well made that he could have had a full time job just making and selling them to the Indians.
Howie had brought enough costume material to outfit both of us -- mine with a porcupine headdress, beaded vest, loincloth, bells, and moccasins. In the evenings we practiced our dances out behind the tents that made up the camp. Later we performed our dances at area celebrations. On at least two occasions we performed at the Friday night band concerts, before the people of Alma. On those occasions Howie used a paste to darken our skin, and he painted our faces.
Howie said that the dances we did were ethnically correct. The old men at Rosebud had taught him. I guess he was right. No one challenged our authenticity.
At the end of the summer, after having given the dances a half dozen times, at various locales, Howie suggested that we travel to the annual Omaha Pow Wow at Macy. The Omaha are closely related to the Sioux, both tribes having migrated to the plains from Minnesota and Wisconsin. Once on the plains they both took to the horse and hunting of buffalo as if they had been born to that life. The Omaha were quicker to give up that way of life, on pressure from the whites. But many of the Omaha were related to people in the Siouan tribes and the PowWow was really like a family reunion, with relatives coming from North and South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana. Howie was sure that he'd run into some of his friends from South Dakota.
It was really quite exciting to be going to a real Pow Wow. We were both unmarried, but Howie's fiancee, a war bride from Germany, was due to arrive on Saturday or Sunday of that weekend at Sioux City. Macy was very close, and he felt that we could attend the dances until her plane arrived. He could be in Sioux City in less than an hour.
That weekend, at Macy, there was a great deal going on. There were prizes given in many categories, including traditional and fancy dancing, and a contest to crown a Princess of the Macy Pow Wow. On Saturday the dance competition featured dancers from several states. Winners from this show were asked to come back to perform again on Sunday, when the three top dancers were chosen. These winners achieved a good deal of acclaim, in Indian circles throughout the Midwest, besides a substantial cash prize.
We did not expect to win any prizes, but Howie explained that we could enter the general dancing events where everyone was invited to perform. It would be fun just to be in the same circle with some real Indian dancers. Howie did meet a number of old friends from the South Dakota reservations, and several invited him to smoke the pipe with them at their campsites. On these occasions I tagged along, sat on the ground and tried to look as if I understood what was going on. I usually did not, but since there was a good bit of joshing and laughing between old friends I could smile a lot and act like I was enjoying the fun.
At one of these mini reunions a young (quite fat) Indian fellow attached himself to us and followed us around for the rest of the day. He was about my age, and he did his best to make himself agreeable, and helpful. He didn't dance, but he offered to introduce us to some of the tribal leaders that Howie did not yet know. The fellow seemed to know everyone. He was apparently harmless, so we did not discourage the attention he paid us.
When the Princess candidates walked by our campsite, our new friend really got our attention when he volunteered that the prettiest girl was his cousin, and he would introduce us to her at the regular dance (with a real dance band), which would follow the Indian dances later that evening. He said that the girl was a good ballroom dancer and we'd enjoy dancing with her.
That afternoon Howie and I did dance in the circle, and as he had predicted, it was a lot of fun. Some of the dancers were very good1 and very athletic in their movements. It was hard for me to identify the qualities that made a really good dancer, but the crowd knew.
Surprisingly, the other dancers treated us very well. They made pains to talk with us during the breaks, and a number commented on our costumes if not our dancing. Afterwards, one group of Howie' s friends invited us to share their evening meal at their campsite. It turned out to be a sort of meat stew, in which we dipped our bread. Very good!
Howie left our supper to check on the status of his fiancee's plane. Pretty soon he came running back, saying that her plane was due to arrive within hours and he would have to leave immediately. But he advised me to stay and enjoy the evening's festivities. He felt that I was acquainted now and would have no trouble. I wasn't so sure. I was not really comfortable with our new friends. I hated to see him go, but under the circumstances I could scarcely argue with him.
When I left for town to pick up flashlight batteries, our Indian friend jumped into the car with me. When we got back to the PowWow he began to talk with me about the dance. He really didn't think it was going to be all that great. His cousin, the princess, had a boyfriend who would be very jealous if she danced with me, and he thought we ought to just skip the dance. We could just drive around for a while, maybe drink a little beer. I didn't know what to think, so I just sat there. All of a sudden the fellow put his arm around me, pulled me to him and kissed me! I was surprised. I was scared to death. Without really thinking I got his door open and pushed him out of the car, and almost in one motion started the car and screeched away from the campsite, from the Pow Wow and from Macy, even missing the evening performance.
It's been a long time since we danced at that Pow Wow. Howie is gone. I've forgotten the Indian fellow's name. Probably just as well. But I'm pretty sure his name was NOT "Straight Arrow."