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NO MORE SCREECH OWL: PLAINS INDIAN ADAPTATION
AS PROFILED IN THE LIFE OF BLACK ELK
presented by

Michael F. Steltenkamp

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Doctoral degree in Anthropology

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M) MORE SCREECH OWL: PLAINS INDIAN ADAPTATION
AS PROFILED IN THE LIFE OF BLACK ELK

Bv
Michael F. Stel tenkamp
A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOC'IOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of AnthrOpologv

1987

Copyright by
MICHAEL F. STELTENKAMP

1987

ABSTRACT

NO MORE SCREECH ONL: LAKOTA ADAPTATION TO CHANGE AS PROFILED
IN THE LIFE OF BLACK ELK

By
Michael. F. Steltenkamp

The life of the famous Sioux holy-man, Black Elk, as revealed
by those who knew him best, will show that it is itself still in-
triguing, and that it is also instructive of the Lakota social net-
work at large. Implications of this work bear on widespread assump-
tions common to both Euro-and Indian America which have been bolster-
ed by Black Elk material already in print, and a byproduct of this
work will be to show how the holy-man has been incorporated into
significant social movements, how he has become a symbol for them,
and how this usurpation is actually a transformation of who the man
really was.

The tendency has been to compartmentalize Black Elk's life and
thought into an era untainted by non-Indian social or religious cur-
rents. In point of fact, however, the holy-man lived well beyond the
Wounded Knee tragedy, and he did so with much vitality. His life goes
beyond the neat construct of total nativism on the one hand, or com-
plete absorption of Western ways on the other. His biography is not
a profile in syncretism but is, rather, an example of reflexive adjust-

ment to new cultural landscapes that had not been previously explored.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CMPTER I O O O O O D I O O O I O O

I.

"FIRST IMPRESSIONS ARE MOST LASTING"--STEREOTYPES OF AMER-

ICAN INDIANS: AN ISSUE FOR ANTHROPOLOGY

II.

III.

A. THE ROLE OF "LIFE—STORIES" AND SOME EXAMPLES OF THEIR

USE O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 0

THE IMAGE OF BLACK ELK IN POPULAR CULTURE AND ITS SHORT-
COMINGS I O O O O O O C O O O O O O O O

A. PERSONAL BACKGROUND ENROUTE TO DISCOVERING WHO BLACK

ELK WAS O O O O O O O O O O O O O O

O

B. VISITING BLACK ELK'S DAUGHTER: REVELATION OF A

LARGER STORY . . . . . . . . . . .

C. COMPLETING BLACK ELK'S BIOGRAPHY AND THE

ENTAILED O O O O O C O O O O I O O O

PUTTING TOGETHER BLACK ELK'S BIOGRAPHY .

A. LUCY'S SENSE OF URGENCY . . . .
B. LANGUAGE, TEXT, AND INTERVIEWS .

THESIS AIM . . . . . .

CHAPTER II . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I.

BLACK ELK'S CULTURAL BACKGROUND . .
A. THE PEOPLE'S NAME . . . . . . .
B. STRUCTURE OF THE NATION . . . .
C. THE CAMP CIRCLE . . . . . . . .
D. CAMP LANDSCAPE . . . . . . . .
E. CAMP SIZES AND LEADERSHIP . . .
F. FROM WOODLAND T0 PLAINS . . .

G. LAKOTA MARRIAGE . . . . . . . .

PROBLEMS THIS

4

7

14

18

19

22

25

28

3O

. 36

. 36

36

. 38

40

46

. 48

52

55

H. DEFERENTIAL BEHAVIOR AND KIN NOMENCLATURE . . .

I. FICTIVE, BUT FELT, KINSHIP . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER III

THE HISTORICAL PERSONALITY OF THE LAKOTA . . . . . . .

LUCY ' S BLOOD-LIVE o o o o o a e o o o o o o o e o o o 0

BLACK ELK'S LATER LIFE--DISREGARDED BY OTHERS EXCEPT

THE FAMILY . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER IV
LAKOTA PSYCHO-SACRAL-SOHATIC MEDICAL PRACTICE . . . . .
BLACK ELK'S CONVERSION EXPERIENCE . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER V

60

64

67

71

73

87

LAKOTA CATHOLIC SOCIAL ORGANIZATION: GROUPS AND OFFICES..99

A CATECHIST REMEMBERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER VI

THE ACTIVITIES AND FAMILY-LIFE OF BLACK ELK, THE
CATECHIST O O O O O I O O O O O O O O O O O I O O I O O

STARTING AND SUPPORTING MISSIONARY EFFORTS . . . . .

THE GHOST DANCE AND ITS AFTERMATH . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER VII
CATECHIST AND HEYOKA FATHER . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

NEIHARDT'S VISIT AND THE REACTIONS IT PROVOKED . . . .
CHAPTER VIII

BLACK ELK'S VISION AND THE "TWO ROADS MAP" . . . . . .

BLACK ELK AND TRADITIONAL LAKOTA RELIGIOUS PRACTICE . .

THE VISION'S TREE IMAGERY . . . . . . .

111

105

110

119

124

133

I36

148

158

162

CHAPTER IX
RETIREMENT YEARS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
THE DEATH OF LUCY'S MOTHER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
CHAPTER X
LAST DAYS OF THE AGED HOLY-HAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
TRADITIONAL MEDICINE COMES.TO BLACK ELK'S AID . . . . . 177
THE VISITOR FROM BEYOND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
CHAPTER XI
BLACK ELK'S WAKE: THE FINAL FAREWELL . . . . . . . . . . 181
CHAPTER XII
THE LEGACY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
A DAUGHTER'S MELANCHOLY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
CONCLUSION
. WHAT DID BLACK ELK REALLY SPEAK . . . . . . . . . . . . .193

I. THE INTERPLAY OF RETREATISM, ROMANTICISM, AND REALISH

O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 0 O O O O O O .196

II. BLACK ELK'S BIOGRAPHY DISPELS THE WARRIOR STEREOTYPE.ZOO

III. TRADITIONAL RELIGION AND CHRISTIANITY . . . . . . . 207
APPENDIX A

A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN INDIAN AUTOBIOGRAPHIES . . . 226
HAP 1 SOUTH DAKOTA WITH PINE RIDGE INSERT . . . . . . . . . 230
MAP II PINE RIDGE RESERVATION . . . . . . . . . . I . . . . 231
APPENDIX B

EULOGY GIVEN AT THE FUNERAL OF BENJAMIN BLACK ELK . . . 232
APPENDIX C

INSTRUCTION BY MEANS OF THE TWO ROADS (LAKOTA VERSION) . 236

1v

APPEND IX D

INSTRUCTION BY MEANS OF THE TWO ROADS (ENGLISH VERSION)

APPENDIX E

LETTERS OF BLACK ELK .

APPENDIX F

PHOTOSTATIC REPRODUCTION OF TWO ROADS MAP .

BIBLIOGRAPHY

PHOTOGRAPHS

243

249

. 259

260

. 271

CHAPTER I
1. "FIRST IMPRESSIONS ARE HOST LABTING'--STIRBOTYPES OF
AMERICAN INDIANS: AN 18808 FOR ANTHROPOLOGY

“The people of the island . . . all go naked . . . as
their mothers bore them.“ (Berkhofar, 1978, 6). Such was the
observation of Columbus in 1492 upon first contacting Native
peoples of the western Hemisphere. Ever since this first
blush, the identity of these American “Indians" has baited
inquiring ainds. Tine has transformed a pristine wilderness
from £2552 incognita to topographic clarity. But the land's
original inhabitants have remained a 32} generis population
that still begs survey.

Until recently, for example, the image of a
”granite-faced," “grunting," 'stoical,' “cigar-store” Indian
was part of the popular imagination—-and not without reason.
Bnroute to "winning the west“ (plus the north, south and
east), Euro-American delegations regularly treated with
vanquished leaders for the purpose of redefining territorial
claims. Negotiations imposed constraints on Native groups
who, in time, reluctantly admitted their inability to resist
encroachment. Since early observers described Indian
languages as “animal-like,“ we can appreciate why the above
stereotype achieved staying-power (Driver, 1969, 25). This
caricature, however, is only one of many that culture-contact
has spawned.

Cub scouts and conservationists fell heir to a

deeply-entrenched idea concerning Native America that
' i

originated with Rousseau (1712-78). Referred to as the “noble
savage“ concept, it has been used to plea on behalf of
environmental protection. The conventional images associated
with this romantic notion picture Native people as being
one-with-nature--swimming with sister-salmon, running with
brother-deer, singing harmony with the birds, and
knowledgeable of every forest sound. Indeed, many present-day
Americans (regardless of whatever other, perhaps conflicting,
notions they carry about Indian identity) suspect Native
people are experts on ecology.“ And in its quest for truth,
anthropology does well to address such stereotyping, as the
following incident should illustrate.

Not long ago I drove a friend home. He lived some
distance out in the country and he came from a traditional
Lakota background.* In fact, English was his second language.
Driving over dry roads on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in
ninety-degree weather made us thirsty, so we bought a can of
soda prior to our journey. As we drove along, the can was
emptied, and my friend turned toward his window, then stopped.
In a crisp, deep, monotone, he asked: -'Hind if I throw this
out?“

The question took me by surprise. Here was a young man
whose usual behavior reminded me of the pre-reservation
period--times when the Plains were free of twentieth-century
pollution. A rare moment had presented itself, so I responded
*Lakota and ”Sioux“ will be used interchangeably throughout

this text, the former is the preferred, more technical
(linguistic), usage.

by asking: "Did you ever see the television commercial which
showed an Indian man in buckskin paddling down a river? When
he landed, someone threw trash at his feet, and the Indian man
was pictured with a tear on his cheek?“ My friend, pensive
for a few moments, answered: 'Yeh, what's he crying about?“

I said: “The commercial seems to be showing that years
ago, before settlers came to America, an Indian man could
paddle down a river and not see any trash laying around at
all. And if an Indian from a long time ago looked at America
today, he would cry in realizing how polluted it had become.”
That was the point of the television commercial as I
understood it.

I awaited my friend's reaction. He did not reply
immediately, but instead was taken up in thought. With a look
of bewilderment, and voice with no inflection, he asked: “You
mean I'm not supposed to throw this can out the window?”

I told him that I would throw it away when I got home,
and so he set it on the seat between us.

The matter was closed, but my friend seemed perplexed by
the decision. Carrying an empty soda can back home was
peculiar--a nice thought, perhaps, but a bit foreign to his
experience. My friend could not identify with his television

counterpart. Never again would I view that commercial with my
same, previously-unchallenged, assumptions.

Hy experience reported above is an illustration of the
larger issue already raised, viz., that we have inherited a

legacy of stereotypes which have obscured the flesh-and-blood

individuals who comprise Indian identity. Hence, one of
anthropology's tasks is to foster research which promises a
more reliable sense- of cultural configurations (Stedman,
1982), and not allow stereotypes and caricatures to wield the
influence they do.

The pages that follow will, then, address the issue of
Indian identity by focusing upon the life of one prominent
person. This analytical genre was appropriated long ago by
anthropologists (Kluckholn, 1945), but the utilization of
life-stories for purposes of social inquiry has remained a
"generally untapped vein for cultural analysis” (Bourguignon
I979: 19). Emphasis within this field of study is upon the
individual persons who undergo the rites, maintain subsistence
patterns, conduct aggression, supplicate spirits, and fashion
the inventory of material goods. In this way, a given life is
studied for what it can tell us about the larger, more
complex, social system to which it belonged (see Appendix I
“The Life-story in Anthropology“).

Es THE ROLE OF ”LIFE-STORIES” AND SOHE EXAHPLES OF THEIR US!

In the recent past, a novel approach to illuminating
Native worldviews via one informant was introduced by Carlos
Castaneda--an anthropologist who is himself shrouded in
mystery.* This reclusive observer mesmerized a wide reading
*Time magazine devoted its cover and feature-story to

Castaneda who, among other things, would not permit his
picture to be taken.

public by reporting his experience of spiritual sonship to Don
Juan, a Yaqui ”sorcerer“ (1966). In the course of five books
thus far (based on the author's ”voluminous field notes'), we
are introduced to alien perceptions of the world through Don
Juan's ability as a magician, and his use of peyote, iimson
weed, and a hallucinogenic mushroom. The esoteric worldview
of Castaneda's mentor seems to both estrange and tantalize its
readership, for Don Juan's vision is at once compelling yet
obscure. If nothing else, the author's presentation of one
man's thought has expanded the parameters of narrative
analysis. It further stimulated development in a field that
one commentator describes as only now at the level of a
“modest beginning" (Bourguignon, 168).

Concurrent with the Castaneda cycle has been the
disclosure of two life-histories of present-day religious
practitioners among the Lakota. Richard Brdoes (1972)
interviewed John Lame beer of the Rosebud Reservation and
presented the several "worlds” within which modern medicine
men labor. Similarly, Thomas Hails persuaded “ceremonial
chief" Prank Pools Crow to relate his life experiences (1979 ).
By doing so, readers were provided an unusual portrait of a
man whose social identities suggest caution to those who might
speak of roles and statuses in overly-broad terms.

Pools Crow enjoyed unique genealogical, political, and
religious prominence among the Sioux. As a result, his words

are authoritative in regard to Lakota social institutions.

Apart from addressing the United Nations on behalf of all (?)
Indian America, this elder statesman acquired prestige and
notoriety among his people for being the repository of sacred
information that he was at first unwilling to discuss.
Ultimately, however, his disclosures were contingent upon
information supplied by Hails, viz., that the revered Black
Elk, an uncle to Pools Crow, had recounted his own
life-history years earlier.

According to Tools Crow, it was common knowledge among
traditional Sioux that Lame Deer's death was the result of his
collaborating in the publication of a book.* And yet, to
learn that Black Blk had done the same thing demanded serious
reconsideration. After all, so Fools Crow reasoned, his
uncle's stature dwarfed all modern religious practitioners.

Black Elk was a beacon even for him, Pools Crow (from
whom others were taking their cue). In this regard, Pools
Crow was not unlike countless other Indian and non-Indian
people. His admiration for Black 31k simply replicated (but
more intimately) an already widespread sentiment. Unknown to
Pools Crow was that Black llk, holy-man of the Oglala, had
attained perhaps the greatest popularity of any Native
American to date, and it is his story, his special role in the
panorama of Indian culture, that the rest of these pages will
address and analyze.

*Lame Deer died in a car accident on the Pine Ridge Reservation.

1L THE IMAGE 0? BLACK ELK IN POPULAR CULTURE AND ITS SHORTCONING

Attention to Black Elk's life and thought was first
brought to the public forum through the poetic craftsmanship
of John Neihardt in 1932.* After this initial introduction,
Joseph lpes Brown ably transmitted the holy-man's knowledge of

Lakota religious tradition in a work entitled The Sacred Pip:

 

(1953). The numerous editions of both books in America and
Europe attest to the fact that herein lies a captivating
appeal.

Neihardt and Brown found in Black Elk a man who
remembered far happier times than those which came with the
reservation period. Born when buffalo was still the staple of
plains tribes, he shared in the victory of Little Big Horn
(1876) and the heartbreak of Wounded Knee (1890). Throughout
these summer and winter years, Black Elk grew into manhood and
learned especially well the religious traditions of his
people. However, it will later be shown that the
presentations of Neihardt and Brown both erred by depicting
the man solely as a nineteenth-century figure-~as Denallie has
also noted (1984, 124).

Largely comprised of first-person narratives, Black Elk
§pgg§§,portrays Sioux Life as it existed during the last half
of the 1800's. Like other works of its kind, the biography is

*The edition of Black llk S aks cited in this text is the
Pocket Book reprint, New Tore, I972.

a story-like recounting of boyhood memories and early adult
experiences, village and family life, religious ritual, and
sober reflection. Historical personages like Crazy Horse (a
'cousin'), Buffalo Bill Cody, and George Armstrong Custer, all
come alive in the powerful simplicity of Black Elk's account
(N.B., he is Joined in the text by friends who add their
remembrances).

Except for an incident reported in the “Postscript,“
Black Elk Speaks restricts itself to the downfall of the Sioux
as a self-sufficient people. Pre-reservation days are
adequately reflected through the recollection of more-or-less
carefree times, and the Indian victory over Custer becomes a
death-knell boding confinement rather than freedom. The 1890
massacre at Wounded Knee is shown as a m it; gym—e to an
entire way of life, as Black Elk's “dream" is said to have
died with those who fell in this final conflict. In effect,
Neihardt casts Black Elk in the role of spokesman for all
Lakota--if not all Indian people, as Dee Brown (1970) has
proposed (i.e., his best-seller, Bury fly Heart At Wounded
£225, concludes with Black Elk's grim reflection on the demise
of his people). A

At the conclusion of Black Elk Speaks, the holy-man is

 

quoted as praying to Wakan Tanka (Great Spirit): ”Maybe the
last time on this earth, I recall the great vision you sent
me“ (1972, 233).* He is presented as a very old man, nearly

*The Lakota reference to God is “Wakan Tanka.” Although a

precise translation is difficult, "Great Spirit“ is commonly
employed by translators-~today interchangeable with ”God.“

blind, who might well pass away at any moment. That Black Elk
experienced so much heart-break along with his beloved people
only adds greater emotional impact to the closing pages of
this book. Resonances of the ”noble savage” and “vanishing
American" motifs reverberate throughout the final passages.

Some sixteen years after Neihardt sketched this portrait
of Black Elk, however, Joseph Epes Brown came upon the very
same man who was still very much alive. With the publication
of The Sacred Pipe, the holy-man's knowledge of ritual was
brought to the fore. Once again, readers were understandably
touched by the sublime narrative Black Elk related.

The Sacred Pips focused on ”Black Elk's account of the
seven rites of the Oglala Sioux'--traditional religious
ceremonies which Brown asked Black Elk to reconstruct.
Although practiced irregularly in recent times, the rites were
depicted as belonging to an historical period which is no
more. In sum, the two books portray Black Elk and the social
institutions he so cherished as paralyzed victims of western
subjugation. Doomed to live out his years as a relic of the
past and prisoner of irreconcilably foreign ways, the holy-man
(and his people) becomes an object of pity. Readers are left
to conclude that Black Elk's first thirty years were
productively lived, while his last sixty were tearfully
endured. But was this the case?

A lamentable void existed on the man's life during the

forty years not treated by John Neihardt. And except for

10

Brown's eight month visit in the winter of 1947-48, nothing is
known of Black Elk's last twenty years. Essentially, then,
sixty years of a prominent man's life are unaccounted for, and
we are left to wonder if Black Elk participated at all in the
twentieth century reservation world (fifty years of which he
knewi).

To what extent Neihardt embellished different
observations (he was a nationally acclaimed poet) will perhaps
never be completely clear, as Sally McClusky, among others,
drew attention to this in her aptly titled article ”Slack Elk
Speaks, and So Does John Reihardt' (1972). And yet, Neihardt
himself stirs some wonderment on this point when he qualified
his authorship by saying “as told through“ instead of “as told
to'litalics added/ for later editions of the “life-story."
Dehallie's publication of Neihardt's field-notes (1984) helped
clarify this issue, but the fact remains that Black Elk
Speaks--as literature claiming to describe a culture‘s
world-view--is still a classic (regardless of who spoke).

Brown's 1971 Preface to ghe Sacred Pipg_rightly suggests
that what has so far been revealed in the two books on Black
Elk only “raises the question as to who, in fact, Black Elk
really was" (Brown, xiii). He might, in addition, ask the
same about the culture he represents. Such questions have no
doubt confronted most readers of either work due to the
' moving, though enigmatic, commentaries' ascribed the man.
Readers are prompted to wonder if people like Black Elk exist

anymore or if, in fact, they ever did exist (in the manner

11

described).

So evocative is Black Elk's characterization that it has
been expropriated and utilized on behalf of diverse forms of
special-pleading. Environmental activists, Indian militants,
anthropologists, historians, religionists, and students of
Americana can glean from Black Elk (as they have) particular
passages that bolster or refute whatever conventional, Native
theme they choose because, it appears, his representation has

become the conventional stereotype ‘22; excellence. Those

 

aware of this larger frame of reference are thus confronted
with the task of separating the wheat from the
chaff--discerning if Black Elk was a kind of modal man of the
Sioux, a mystic, or myth.

Norman Perrin, one-time biblical scholar at the
University of Chicago, drew upon Black Elk for purposes of
cross-cultural comparison vis-a-vis New Testament writers
_(1974). Nilloya and Brown invoked the holy man to support
their doctrine of a universal religion (1962). Steinmetz
(1980), updating Duratschek (1947), then made a case for
regarding the holy-man as exemplifying a kind of evolutionary
phase in theological reflection. Turning the tables on this
line of development was Vine Deloria who, as a leading
spokesman of Native America, made use of Black Elk to argue
that "God is Red” (1969). Here the holy-man was portrayed as
the embodiment of a pan-Indian spirituality that is
incompatible with notions associated with “'white man's

religion.‘

12

Sculptor Marshall N. Fredericks has honored Black Elk
with a bronze monument, while artists LN. Thomsen and Paul
Goble have graphically expressed their indebtedness to Black
Elk by producing sketches of Native life on popular greeting
cards now found nation-wide. Poet Donna Duesel de la

Torriente produced Bay is the Land (1902) which

 

parenthetically included the dedication 'to Black Elk' in its
title--the work itself claiming to be “an astounding
proclamation made by a white American about the long-awaited
dream of Black Elk.“ 'Leanin' Tree' publications (a
'back-to-nature' motif accentuating their work) has likewise
peppered their products with quotations from Black Elk
material. Where psychologist Carl Jung theorizes about and
directly refers to Black Elk (1970, 206), novelist Thomas
Berger is more surreptitious. His Little Big Nan (1964) cast
considerable appeal to readers (and later on, moviegoers) who
were entranced by the story's pivotal character, Old Lodge
Skins--a pseudonym, it seems, for Black Elk _a_ Lg. Neihardt.
Such gnosticism was not required in 1979 when Broadway
playwright Chris Sergel cast actor David Carradine in the lead
role of a largely fictionalized Black Elk.

Social scientists have not been immune to Black Elk's
influence. David Numphreys Niller produced two books (1957,
1959) which illuminated the Ghost Dance and Custer's fate from
the view point of Sioux witnesses--the holy-man being one of
his key informants. Hassrick's standard ethnography of the

Sioux (1964) notes Brown and Neihardt as basic resources,

13

while a contemporary analysis of Oglala religion (Powers,
1975) cites Black Elk as an eminently quotable authority.
other books and articles (e.g., Capps, 1976; Tedlock &
Tedlock, 1975), too numerous to list here, simply corroborate
what this overview has suggested. The holy-man's life, as
presented by Neihardt and Brown, has provided fertile
reflection for a host of people far removed from Black Elk's
reservation borders (e.g., Noon's 1982 best-seller .2123
Highways, a first-person account of travelling across modern
America, quotes Black Elk 822252 as a kind of intimate,
literary travelling-companion).

Do his books represent a kind of personal and societal
death-rattle? Do they prohibit inquiry of post-wounded Knee
cultural forms because such forms were resisted by means of a
lifeless resignation to non-Indian ways? what was the reality
of adaptation for persons like Black E1k--the Sioux of nomadic
times who, through historical circumstances, found themselves
on a markerless path to sedentism? These and other questions
surface forcibly to readers earnestly seeking Black Elk's
credibility as a flesh-and-blood human being. Brown raised
the question as to who, in fact, Black Elk really was, and
this question has long been in need of an answer. ‘

The holy-man's recollection of years-past has elicited
commentary on Plains Indian life which has been regarded as
applicable to Native America at large. But where
non-specialists might construe Indian ways in this manner and

leave their perspectives generalized, anthropology is not so

14

loose. consequently, Brown's question can only be
satisfactorily answered through analysis of Black Elk's entire
life, within the constraints of the nineteenth and twentieth
century Siouan milieu. Not until this is accomplished can
cross-cultural comparisons be attempted or, for that matter,
can Black Elk's socialization and worldview be adequately
interpreted.
A. PERSONAL BACKGROUND ENROUTB TO DISCOVBRING WHO BLACK ELK WAS
while in college, I became acquainted with Joseph Epes
Brown through a course he offered on religious traditions of
Native North America. When he spoke of his work with Black
Elk, Brown fanned within me a desire to seek out and listen to
"defining voices' from the Indian world. My hope was to
eventually seek out and listen for Native American
self-reflection and learn from it.

When I assumed a teaching position on the Pine Ridge
Reservation, I was anxious to learn more about the life and
vision of Black Elk which Brown had partly shared with me. fly
education in this matter would occur on the very same terrain
which was home to the holy-man for most of his
life-~five-thousand square miles in the southwest corner of
present-day South Dakota on land comprised of lunar-like
Badlands, imposing buttes, rolling plains, and clean air ((see
Nap 1).

After only a short time at Pine Ridge, I learned to my
great astonishment that Black Elk's prestige in the

reservation community was not attributable to the popularity

15

of his two books. Prestige he indeed had, but it was due,
surprisingly enough, to his very active involvement with
priests in establishing Catholicism among his people! Older
persons remembered him as “Nick“ Black Elk, and most knew
little (if anything) about the two books based on his life and
thought. Those who were familiar with the literature thought
it was the work of Nick's son, Ben--himself a man of some
fame.* For years, Ben was known as the "other face“ on Nt.
Rushmore because of his popularity there with tourists. And
too, Ben had appeared in motion pictures. This was the Black
Elk some associated with books, as they knew Ben to be a media
favorite.

Neihardt had made passing reference to Black Elk as a
"preacher" in his Introduction (1972, A! ), but had suggested
the word be understood merely in terms of his role as a
traditional holy-man (wicasa wakgg) of the Lakota. When
Neihardt related he heard Black Elk “was a kind of a
preacher,” he perhaps little realized what dimensions such a
characterization took in the minds of local Pine Ridge
residents.f* To my amazement, I learned that Black Elk had, in
fact, preached Christian doctrine to his people for the
greater part of his life-and that he had been formally

*Nealing of Memories by Dennis and Mathew Lynn (Paulist Press,
Ramsey, N.J., 1974) quotes The Sacred Pi e and does, in fact,
erroneously attribute authorship (In a footnote) to Ben.

**Gretchen Bataille's article "Black Elk--New World Prophet“
misinterprets Neihardt by stating the holy-man was “kind of a

preacher'--a significant distortion of both Neihardt's meaning
and Black Elk's style (1984, 139).

16

invested with the office of "Catechist.'l

Readers of The Sacred Pipe were initially made aware of
Black Elk's basic familiarity with Christianity, but knew
nothing of the background against which the holy-man's
utterance was made. The simplicity of his testimony is easily
glossed over when juxtaposed to the wealth of Lakota religious
tradition he goes on to relate. For example, Black Elk is
quoted as saying:

“We have been told by the white man, or at least by

those who are Christian, that God sent to men his

son, who would restore order and peace upon the

earth; and we have been told that Jesus the Christ

was crucified, but that he shall come again at the

Last Judgement, the end of this world or cycle.

This I understand and know it is true . . . (Brown,
xix)/italics addedl.

Apparently, this creed seems to have been read in terms of
Black Elk's only being acquainted with Christian doctrine. As
I later learned, and as will be shown,much more was involved.

When Ben Black Elk died in February of 1973, and as I
sang with the Lakota choir at his burial, I felt a great loss
had occurred. To my knowledge, a direct family link with the
Oglala holy-man could no longer be made (now that Ben was
gone). The child of so venerable a parent as Nick Black Elk
might well have shed some light on the questions raised by the
old Sioux patriarch. I had barely known Ben, and now he was
dead. The book seemed closed on Nick Black Elk's life, and
further illumination of it seemed pretty much left to anyone's
speculation (see Appendix II, 'Eulogy').

Such were my feelings when just three months after Ben's

17

funeral, I happened to meet an 222; (grandmother) who was
seated on a bench in front of the Holy Rosary Nission.* I
asked her if she perhaps had attended school at the Mission
years earlier when only one building served as the entire
educational complex.

The question prompted her to take a long look at the
grounds, and seemed to take her back many years to another
time, another style of life--less mobile and slower paced than
today. Her wrinkled face bespoke a glimmer of nostalgia as
she replied: “When I was Just a little girl, I came to school
here--and so did my brother Ben. Since he passed away, this
school dedicated its yearbook to his memory.“ Such was how I
met Black Elk's only surviving child, Lucy.

We spoke for awhile, and I asked if I might visit her
someday. I explained that I was a teacher at the Red Cloud
Indian High School, and was attempting to relate her father's
thoughts to the students. I felt that she might be able to
help me understand more deeply just who her father was.

Lucy said she would be happy to explain as much as she
could about her father, and that I could visit her whenever I
wished. We shook hands and parted until two weeks later when
the spring rains had ceased and country roads permitted
*Holy Rosary Nission, founded by the Jesuits in 1888,
continues today as a major educational institution of the Pine
Ridge Reservation. Reference to an older person as
"grandmother“ or “grandfather” is being respectful in Lakota
tradition. This will surface again in a consideration of

Lakota prayer that begins 'Tunkashila Wakan Tanka' or,
“Grandfather Great Spirit.’

18

passage.
B. VISITING BLACK BLK'S DAUGNTER: REVELATION OF A LARGER STORY

Lucy's home was an old log house roughly four miles north
of Nanderson, South Dakota--a small town on the Pine Ridge
Reservation (see MAP 2). When I arrived for our first
meeting, Lucy suggested we sit under a shade of pine boughs
which her husband, Leo, had constructed. There we could
speak-~uninterrupted by the smaller grandchildren who were
playing around the house.

As I interviewed her, I based my questions on material
drawn from Black Elk Speaks and The Sacred Pips, Lucy brought
me up short by saying she had never read either book, and that
she knew very little about her father's life as a young man.
The more I referred to either book, the more I realized Lucy
had other things on her mind. I was beginning to think she
did not really wish to have me visit, or to ask questions
about anything. Finally, sensing our encounter would soon be
over, I asked if there was anything she felt should be known
about her father that was not already known to people.

It was then I learned of a dream Lucy had carried with
her ever since her father's death. For years she had waited
to have her father's life fully recorded. So far, it had not.
So far, it had only been partially told by John Neihardt, and
ghg_§acred Pips did not capture what she felt was most
significant. Noreover, Lucy was disappointed that her father
was now being misunderstood, and that people were using the

material from his books in a way he never intended.

19

I told Lucy of my desire to learn what she had to say,
and of my willingness to help put together a conclusive
biography of her father. At the time, I little realized what
this task would entail. Joseph Epes Brown corresponded with
me during this period, and his words were a source of
encouragement over the next few years. He wrote:

”I have felt it improper that this phase of his

life was never presented either by Neihardt or

indeed by myself. I suppose somehow it was thought

this Christian participation compromised his

'Indianness,' but I do not see it this way and think

it time that the record was set straight.“

Brown suggested that the record be set straight, and it
was clearly Lucy's intention throughout the course of my
relationship with her to do just that. She had long desired
to undertake such a project and, from that time on, looked
forward to my visits. In her declining years, Lucy knew that
not much time remained for her to fulfill the vision of
relating her father's life-story.

C. COMPLETING BLACK BLK'S BIOGRAPHY AND THE PROBLENS TNIS
‘ run: LED

”Setting the record straight,” understanding “who Black
Elk really was," or writing up “the final chapters” of a
famous person's life might sound like a simple enough task.
These are, however, descriptive but facile characterizations
of what turned out to be a very complex enterprise.
Biographical sketches of other Lakota religious had already
appeared (Sandoz, 1942; vestal, 1932; Walker 1917; Wallis,
1919), and my presumption was that Black Elk's story would

20

pose few difficulties. After all, his daughter was the most
qualified authority to speak, and she was anxious to cooperate
in the effort. However, my naiveti'evaporated shortly after
we began our visits.

Ny initial desire was to replicate the model proposed by
Oscar Lewis (1961). I wanted to avoid putting Lucy's words
through “the sieve" of my mind. I wanted to let them stand
alone (with the force and flavor they originally carried). To
her satisfaction, this was accomplished, but to the non-Lakota
much was still needed.* Besides, her narrative suggested
theoretical directions I had not previously thought of
pursuing. Hence, "thick description” became an ethnographic
imperative--not only for purposes of amplifying vague
references, but also for fully depicting the curious puzzle
Black Elk's life revealed (Geertz, 1973). In attempting to
flesh out the skeletal features of Black Elk's
lived-experience, in trying to spell out his confrontation
with social upheaval, and in ordering my analysis of how his
life interlocked with micro- and macro-environments, I found
myself confronted with the methodological question of how to
structure and present findings that appeared so
multidimensional.

Acknowledging this problem, it would be unrealistic of me
to think anthropologists would all espouse one strategy of
analysis. And so, the following is offered as an admission of

*After my interviews with her, I read to Lucy the narrative
she provided, and it appears in this text as she wanted it.

21

where my own analytical instincts only tend to move. That is,
Black Elk's life will here be set forth through the words of
those who knew him best-~my remarks being a frame, as it were,
for the portrait they sketch. The 'humanization of scholarly
writing" goes hand-in-hand with such an approach (Parssinen,
1974, 1975).

As to the trajectory of this work, a word is in order
concerning Lucy's perspective. It triggered an incremental
buildup of scope, and forced me to investigate depths that I
had not planned to fathom. Whatever all their reasons »were
for not telling about Black Elk's later life, Neihardt and
Brown perhaps realized how much effort its adequate disclosure
would entail.

Over twenty years had elapsed since Lucy's father was
alive and, too, her account extended back into the last
century. Although I hoped for the opposite, it did not
surprise me to find that Lucy's recollections showed little
concern for chronology--a phenomenon that 'Kluckhohn had
earlier noted among Native informants (1945, 81-2). To Lucy,
emotiohd) impressions and indelible memories were the
constitutive elements of a very special, daughter-father
relationship. And so, my persistent request for a
'play-by-play' account of one-year-to-the-next often seemed to
her a bewildering pro-occupation with calendrical events.

This was my way of harnessing disparate observations, of
focusing nebulous sentiments and, in short, of translating

essence into substance. As time passed, it was both amusing

22

and frustrating to be part of a process that consisted of my
forcing Lucy to make empirical declarations instead of stating
abstractions--only for me to then conceive abstractions of my
own based on the ”facts” she supplied. This pattern was,
albeit time-consuming, a necessary kind of ethnographic
winnowing and reconstituting. A composite sense of Black Elk
was finally, to our satisfaction, produced.

With the above design achieved, it became apparent that I
elucidate other issues that were suggested by Lucy's account.
Horeover, I needed to cross-check references so as to insure
the accuracy of what she reported. With her permission, I
interviewed other Lakota and combed through archives that
seemed pertinent. The former included friends and family of
Black Elk, while the latter consisted principally of Jesuit
journals, Neihardt's field-notes, and ethnographic literature.
JIL. PUTTING roos'rm annex st's BIOGRAPHY

Although exceptions exist, it is not uncommon to find
narratives by Indian people which read as if the speakers were
fluent in English. Even those which are known to be
translations lose something of their original flavor (Ekvall
1960). Intended perhaps for clarity, such versions actually
tend to misrepresent the individual, or melt down the
uniqueness of Indian life-stories into a pan-cultural
artifact. That is, a kind of Native voice arises from all
these works which sounds basically the same, even though
time-periods and thousands of miles separate the persons and

their groups. We have, then, life-stories presented in

23

Standard American English--removing us a bit further from the
life and culture we seek to understand.
Kenneth Lincoln (1983, 12) reflected on this problem of

translation as it bore upon Black Elk Speaks, and his comments

 

are worth noting so as to indicate what has been operative
vis-a-vis not just this earlier portrait of the Lakota, but

also other, perhaps all, fieldwork harvests:

'. . . the reader, still half a century later
assimilates the published account into his own life.
From Black Elk's memories through Neihardt to the
reader's present spans a century. The process moves
from visionary-healer-singer-teller through
poet-translator to literate recipient; from spoken
recall through written translation to reading a
book; from field anthropology, the where and when of
each person involved to the next; from the cultural
transitions and histories of each to another; from
informant through creative writer to reader. To
note these passages stimulates care for the
translative detail; it raises questions about how
one moves toward, or slides away from genuine
translations.“

”Genuine translation“ here might just as well refer to any
type of information that one seeks to discover within
another's world-view. And this call to consciousness, or
appeal for fieldwork accuracy is actually a canon of
anthropology. It deserves repetition, however, since charges
are often made which claim it has been violated.

Like Langness and Prank before him (1981, 61), Arnold
Krupat pointedly stated that the fieldworker need be wary of

how information about life-stories is eventually pieced

together (198i, 223). He wrote that they are:

'. . . collaborative efforts, jointly produced

24 e

by some white who translates, transcribes, compiles,

edits, interprets, polishes, and ultimately

determines the 'form' of the text in writing, and by

an Indian who is its 'subject' and whose title may

bear his 'name.' Although they are unfortunate,

these quotation marks are necessary to indicate the

problematic status of the terms they enclose."

After several years of interviews, visits and correspondence,
I read to Lucy my translating, transcribing, compiling,
editing, interpreting, and polishing--a methodological luxury
which her father (and other Native informants, I am sure) did
not enjoy. She was quite satisfied with our ”collaborative
effort," and I was pleased to have mediated the preparation of
a written text that had included many disparate, and sometimes
disconnected, means of inquiry (i.e., taping sessions, planned
and unplanned visits, solicited and unsolicited letters,
family gatherings, chance meetings, etc.).

As with other “classics of American Indian ethnography,“
this research has also been ”constructed largely on
information provided by tiny numbers of elderly informants“
(Barrett 1984, 18). Unlike them, however, it will attempt to
preserve the uniqueness of each informant-personality (and
still retain, I would hope, the potential for also being a
'classic'). This reliance upon the aged probably has as many
drawbacks as does reliance upon younger folk, but my
experiences with older persons have been quite rewarding-~both
on a friendship basis and in terms of acquiring special
information known only to them. On this positive aspect of

relating to the elderly, one commentator humorously noted the

advantages of such encounters (Cranford 1983):

25 ‘

"To get old in any century takes guts and
resiliency, not to mention plain dogged perseverance

. You just can't get the same quality of insight
into the past from any other source as you can from
the mouth of someone who's been back there and come
out alive.

'80 let us assume that very old people are
distinguished and venerable simply because they've

come so far through so much. Old people have been

in the woods so long they know where the bears are

hiding, and some of them even know good recipes for

bear.’
Any fieldworker worth their salt can discern “good recipes“
from those which are bland.

The informants upon whom this work depends, apart from
Lucy, were those who knew Black Elk personally. His intimates
were either long dead, infirm, or in their declining years.
Hence, necessity required my adverting to the senior
generation, and it was within their camp that I felt most on
firm ground in terms of what might be called "data
reliability.”

A. LUCY'S SENSE OP URGINCY

Initially, Lucy tape-recorded her father's life-story
such that it would include the many years not treated by
either Neihardt or Brown. As mentioned, I did not realize
that hers was a decades-standing dream. I was gladdened to
meet with so positive a response. Eventually, though, I came
to learn that her father's well known vision and thought were
not, in her opinion, all that particularly well-known) What I
had anticipated as being an elaboration became, instead, an

important clarification. Lucy was most able to do what Brown

later suggested be done, viz., "set the record straight“

26

(Brown 1975)--the very words used by General Chuck Yeager when
asked why he decided to write an autobiography (Walter 1985).
Whether told to or through someone else, whether written by
others or by one's self, life-stories are perhaps supremely
suited to repetitive scrutiny--be they the thought and actions
of a Lakota holy-man or a twentieth century jet test-pilot.
It may be that persons turn to such literature because it is
thought to contain life-giving responses to life's special
questions--as answered by the world's special people.

My chance meeting with Lucy just after her brother's
death was an event she considered quite fortuitous. Indeed,
the historical context of his funeral is worth spelling out
here. It gave impetus to Lucy's desire for clarifying her
father's life.

Ben Black Elk's funeral was a well-attended event for
several reasons. Not only had Ben appeared in motion
pictures, and not only was he the son of the famous Black Elk,
but he had also served as a kind of diplomat to tourists
visiting the Black Hills in Keystone, South Dakota. Dressed
in traditional garb, Ben was pictured on post-cards which
described him as a 'Souix lsic/ warrior'--perhaps an
intentional promotional association of him with the books
about his father (see photograph).

Ben's funeral also drew numbers of people because of
social unrest created by the murder of Raymond Yellow Thunder
in nearby Gordon, Nebraska. The American Indian Movement

(called 'AIM') was present in the region trying to generate

27

Lakota resistance to civil rights violations (and so were also
present at the funeral wake, services, and 'feed'). When Ben
was buried, I joined about five other people to sing Catholic
Lakota hymns at the graveside. Lucy and I no doubt saw one
another on this occasion but we never actually met. Just
after the funeral, the 71 day occupation of Wounded Knee took
place.

All of this was going on (i.e., the social unrest) when
Ben died. Like everyone else's family, Lucy's was also
stirred up by the presence of AIM in the community--persons
from various news media covering both Ben's passing and the
activities of AIM leaders (especially Dennis Bank and Russell
Means, well-known activists who had been in the spotlight
nationally on other occasions).

Not much has been written about the Wounded knee
occupation, so some references are worth noting here, viz.,
Milligan (1973) and Zimmerman (1975) present easily readable
observations, while Akwesasne Notes (1974) pretty much
presents the AIM position. The most scholarly work to date,
as yet unpublished, is Jay Furlong's (1980) Master's thesis.
And although disclaiming any association “with persons living
or dead,“ the motion picture The Trial of Billy Jack portrayed
scenes which had an almost one-to-one correspondence with the
events reported for Raymond Yellow Thunder's killing, and
happenings which followed it.

Ben was now gone, and Lucy's health was not good. The

Neihardt/Brown portrait of her father was, these long years

28

after his death, being invoked by people who did not really
know him-—both extended-family members and outsiders. In
turn, these people were espousing social actions, religious
sentiments and practices she knew her father would not so
readily affirm. And so, I was eager to learn more about Black
Elk's life and thought, while Lucy was long ready to pass on
what had previously been left unreported. To use a
contemporary phrase: “all systems were go." But time would
deal us unanticipated surprises in the fuflfillment of our
respective quests.

As I look back on that hope-filled beginning, I think
that somewhere within both our minds was gratitude. That is,
I had stumbled upon the daughter of a man whose image was that

of shaman par excellence, a man whose ties with the

 

supernatural world had captivated the imaginations of
countless people like myself. Fueled with romanticism, I
hoped that maybe some deeper sense of Black Elk would be
communicated to me, and that “the keys to the kingdom“ which
he knew would now be entrusted to me through his daughter. On
the other hand, Lucy expected our task to be fairly
straightforward and simple. She would pass on his
life-message, and I would be the trustworthy amanuensis.
Ultimately, perhaps, this is what has actually come to
pass-~just not in the way either of us expected.
B. LANGUAGE, TEXT, AND INTERVIEWS

Lucy's first language is Lakota, but most days are spent

using English. As a result, the dialect which arises is not

29

what one would hear outside Siouan settings. For example,
verbs tend to be in the present tense, so someone who died
long ago might be spoken of as if still alive. Instead of 'he
did it," we would hear “he does it." Further analysis would
reveal correspondences with the mother tongue, but the point
here is simply to state why some of the following narratives
read, at times, the way they do.

Lucy's speech is representative of older Lakota people,
and every effort was made to preserve her (and their) way ‘3:
speaking. Edited from transcripts were gropings for words,
repetitions, and dangling sentences common to any
conversation. The mixture of tenses that occasionally
occurred has also been eliminated.

Oratorical ability among the Lakota (and other Plains
people) was an impressive credential that Black Elk seemed. to
possess (albeit revealed via Neihardt and Brown). Leadership
within Plains social structure was, in fact, often contingent
upon one's power of persuasion. However, Lucy's verbal skills
(and those of other informants) seem more “down to earth“ than
what was reported for her father in the earlier books (n.b.,
The Sixth Grandfather helps clarify what embellishments
Neihardt may have provided). Hence, this ”new“ Plains style
may disenchant readers who seek a kind of “duplicate verbal
ethnography.” This style may be attributable to generational
differences, an indicator of what license has been taken by
translators in the past, or just the rendering of Lakota

thought into English words by persons more ”at home" in their

3O

native language.

After her initial recording, many additional visits were
arranged so that I could get Lucy to clarify some point, or
elaborate on some issue. Over the course of five years, we
enjoyed many conversations, and shared our joys and sorrows.
Every once in awhile, my tape-recorder batteries would die, or
tapes get twisted within the machine, or some other
unpredictable nuisance would occur. At such times, one of us
would comment that Iktomi (the Lakota Trickster) was trying to
interfere; either that, or her father was clowning with us
from beyond the grave. More will be said about the
unlaboratory-like conditions of many of our encounters. But
for now, I merely note that early expectations were
short-lived. They gave way to a sobering research task which

at times seemed endless.

THESIS AIN

The cumulative result of this work is a compilation of
material that stretches the horizon of previously held
understandings that pertain to a famous man and the culture to
which he belonged. Instead of just being Black Elk's life
from the viewpoint of his daughter, this inquiry will
illuminate corners of the Lakota world that have heretofore
been shadowy or, indeed, misrepresented.

Implications of this work bear on widespread assumptions
common to both Euro- and Indian America which, as already

indicated, have been bolstered by Black Elk material. Indeed,

31

a byproduct of this work will be to show how the holy-man has
been incorporated into significant social movements, how he
has become a symbol for them, and how this usurpation is
actually a transformation of who the man really was.

Stated more directly, the tendency has been to
compartmentalize Black Elk's life and thought into an era
‘untainted by non-Indian social or religious currents. Such a
perspective is understandable since different kinds of
analyses would probably be easier to do than if he were
exposed to influences beyond the Lakota world. The fact
remains, however, that the holy-man lived well beyond the
Wounded Knee tragedy, and he did so with much vitality. Black
Elk's life goes beyond the neat construct of total nativism on
the one hand, or complete absorption of Western ways on the
other. The holy-man's biography is not a profile in
syncretism but is, rather, an example of reflexive adjustment
to new cultural landscapes that had not been previously
explored.

The conventional wisdom regarding Lakota history suggests
that chameleon-like, a pastel world changed to moribund grey
in the aftermath years of Wounded Knee. A ”people's dream“
had died, and their once-vital lifeblood clotted with each
passing year. Poverty and depression hung heavily upon the
now-hunched shoulders of a proud "warrior society.“ This
already-fading pulse of a people in despair lessened more and
more--a spectral reality that emerged within the heartland of

an America whose global supremacy was very much on the rise.

32

The horror of Wounded Knee in 1890 is not, however, just
an event of the distant past. Recollections of the Ghost
Dance and the civilization that preceded it are still
preserved within the memory of present-day Lakota people.
Greatly immobilized since that event through the onslaughts of
a multifarious wardship, the Sioux have indeed suffered a
malaise of spirit over several decades which has certainly
taken its toll on their morale. And yet, the holy-man
lived--animatedly, serenely, lovingly, spiritually--through
all of it. The contention of this work is not to disprove the
anomic realities that characterized so much of the reservation
period, but rather to explain how persons like Black Elk were
able to face such odds and come to terms with them.

Studies too numerous to mention have catalogued the havoc
produced by culture-contact in North America. And of the many
domains analyzed within these works, the role of religion
seems to be one that elicits much controversial coverage.
Perhaps this is why Black Elk himself has been so entrancing a
figure, as religion was the central concern of his life from
beginning to end.

Frequently, as during the Grant administration, Christian
denominations stepped forward and sought to ameliorate social
conditions by means of conversion--toward Western religious
practice and, presumably, Western modes of production and
behavior. At the other extreme are those who have inveighed
against such groups, and attributed a kind of home-grown

holocaust to these zealous and diverse missionaries.

33

Although broaching this perenially provocative topic of
religion's role, closure of it is not within the scope of this
research. In fact, Black Elk's practice of Catholicism is
only one focus of this work. The main concern addressed
within these pages is to understand how a 'stereotypical'
Plains medicine-man of the nineteenth century could experience
eso many perturbations of lifestyle, meaningfully integrate new
pattern of activity, and live out his days as a more-or-less
happy individual.

The contention that will be forthcoming relates to the
cultural context whence Black Elk came. That is, ordinarily,
a culture does not easly forfeit well-established customs, or
traditions, or social institutions. With the Lakota, in fact,
this tendency is apparent vis-a-vis 'old ways” still
maintained today. Nonetheless, it appears that demographic
convulsions of the frontier era created a kind of utilitarian
behavioral mode whereby expedience vied equally with
convention.

Since we are dealing with many actors in a production
that took over two centuries to unfold, and since none of this
drama bore the scrutiny of eyewitnesses who could in turn
recount every deed found wanting or proven worthy, reasonable
conjecture is what we must ultimately rely upon when proposing
how people and events came to be the way they are (Oliver
1962). With this in mind, we know that Black Elk's people
were one of many who converged within the Plains ecosystem,

having been pushed from ancestral lands encroached upon by

34

well-armed whites and adversarial Indians (Newcomb 1950). The
aftershock of such a displacement was somewhat mitigated by
finding a bountiful region that provided new opportunities.
However, the beacons which guided Lakota adaptation were more
the vagaries of experience than the wisdom of tradition. The

historic period brought constantly shifting circumstances
which forced each generation "to create their own patterns of
behavior” (Barrett 1984, 96).

Leadership was fluid, and had to be innovative, under the
conditions described above. Standards from the past were not
always suitable and were, in all probability, found wanting at
times. Militancy, if only for purposes of protection, was a
33332. 292 of every group who competed for survival in this
new locale-~a point that needs to be underscored lest we too
readily ascribe an inherent bellicose spirit to these peoples.
And so, this new relationship to a new environment required
new ways to make relatives out of aliens. Hence, there was an
expansive quality within Lakota kinship which was itself a
mode of adaptation that historic documentation has fixed but
which was, in fact, still forming or evolving for this
non-static Plains culture.

The biography that follows will detail the story of a
medicine man who encountered the Christianity of a German
Jesuit priest. Depending upon one's point of view, such was
Black Elk's fated destiny, fortuitous chance, bad luck, or
Providential call. But whatever one's perspective be on this

chapter of the man's life, what needs to be understood is that

35

the apparent disconnectedness of‘ experience is, rather, a
processual unfolding of realities that the holy-man was
predisposed to cope with, comprehend, assimilate, and address
with considerable satisfaction. Plains culture itself was the
source of this predisposition.

Rapid settlement of the West eliminated many of the
identifiable features of pre-reservation life. These features
truly had a substance of their own, and their loss can only be
imagined by we who are removed from those times and places.
Nonetheless, by examining Black Elk's life, we can appreciate
Lakota experience from perspectives that have been previously
overlooked. And so, this biography does not just offer some
telling facts about one man's life. It provides new glimpses
of how, in fact, an entire group carried on against challenges

that are today still menacing.

CHAPTER II

1. BLACK ELK'S CULTURAL BACKGROUND

In order to understand Black Elk's later life, it is
important to understand the cultural system within which he
was born, and the social organization with which he was
familiar. Prior to achieving notoriety as an individual,
Black Elk was an anonymous participant in Native American
plains life--as that life was conventionally defined by his
particular group. These initial pages will provide a handle,
as it were, on the identity of his people--a group whose very
name has elicited controversy and confusion. This name-issue,
along with the people's social configuration and history, will
be addressed in what immediately follows.
A. THE PEOPLE'S NANE

Someone visiting the Pine Ridge Reservation today would
hear residents variously refer to themselves as ”Sioux,”
"Sioux-s,” ”Indian,“ "Lakota," and other, maybe somewhat
'faddish' names (e.g., "natural peoples," "Native American,“
“original people," etc.). The fact is that different persons
simply use different terms. However, “Lakota,” “Sioux,” and
”Indian" are the names most commonly employed.

An anthropologist-visitor would know that 'Sioux' was
actually the shortened form of the Chippewa word
'Nadowessiwag' which meant "little serpents," (Baraga 1973,
264). The Iroquois loomed as a larger threat to Chippewa
existence, and so were called ”big serpents“ (or 'Nadowe').

Chippewa regard for the Iroquois did not linger,
36

37

linguistically at least, as did the well-known, undeleted
expletive, 'Sioux'--the name which adhered, over time, to
Black Elk's people.

Others called them Sioux and, eventually, such was the
colloquial ”English“ word they used when referring to
themselves) but certainly not with the connotation intended by
the Chippewa). However, Euro-American expansion westward
displaced sovereign groups, and these numerous, bloody
conflicts postponed scholarly attention to what might now be
termed an 'emic' (or Native) perspective. In fact, only in
recent times have the Sioux (and researchers following their
lead) begun to eschew associations with this “foreign“ name
bequeathed by their Woodland neighbors and reinforced by
popular usage (Steltenkamp 1982, 8).

In ages-past, these folk referred to themselves as
‘oyate' (people) 'ikce' (native) 'ankantu' (superior). The
diverse groups which comprised the nation ”considered
one-another kin“ (ggkg-kiciyapi), and regarded others as
"inferior” (ihukuza). At first glance, such designations
seem.to imply a heightened degree of ethno-centrism. However,
monographs which take this linguistic approach have neglected
to show that arrogance, as it were, is not entirely operative
within the terminology. Rather, the fuller meaning of 'oyate
ikce ankantu' relates also to the people's origin story--their
genesis being in a lower world, and their appearance on earth
implying an emergence on top of, or beyond, the “inferior”

realms below. This mythic underpinning of Sioux identity has

38

been largely overlooked because of the recurrent displays of
ego, or bravado, which so often characterized Plains life
(Hassrick 1964, 32). Moreover, the earliest visitors to Sioux
territory, and those who followed, never failed to mention
this people as being exceedingly proud (Chittendon and
Richardson, 1905; Catlin, 1913; Devoto, 1953: Parkman 1950).

3. STRUCTURE 0? THE NATION

Referred to as snakes by their enemy, 'Sioux' by
Europeans, and ”kin” by themselves, this geographically
widespread group of people defined its membership,
generically, as being “friends" or ”allies" (5913). Herein
lies another aspect of nomenclature which needs attention.
Namely, three principal divisions exist among this people
which, if taken together, constitute the nation as a whole.
They did, however, maintain their own unique identities.

Although anthropologists have, for years, lumped these
three divisions under the label of “Dakota," this word
technically applies only to the most eastern group. Hence,
those closer to their Woodland origin were Dakota, while
slightly further west were the 'Nakota." Finally, the largest
and more well-known division was the high Plains
'Lakota'--Black Elk's people. The group to which one belonged
could be detected (among other ways) by listening for the “L,"

"N,“ or 'D' sounds in speech (e.g., kola, kona, kodg -

39

'friend').* Furthermore, the divisions (otonwepi) were
comprised of sub-groups (indicated below) which came to be

known as ”the seven council fires” (oceti sakowin) (Little

 

 

Thunder, N.D.).

Dakota Nakota Lakota
Wahpekute Ihanktonwan Teton
Mdewakantonwan Ihanktonwanna

Wahpetonwan

Sistonwan

Just as the nation was thus divided into seven groups, so were
the Lakota-Tetons. And like the nation, these Teton groups
(called 'ospaye') were each assigned a specific place within
the camp-circle ('ho-coka').

Figure I illustrates a hierarchical, or
place-of-prominence, configuration of the entire nation were
it gathered £2 22323. Figure II illustrates the Lakota camp

circle in particular.

In terms of felt-identity, a given individual experienced
"belonging" at the most immediate level. This did not negate,
of course, a more expansive self-definition. A person like
Black Elk, for example, might order their sense of belonging
in the following way (Walker 1917, 97-8):

1) ti-ognaka 1) household
2) wico-tipi 2) camp
' 3) ti-ospaye 3) band
4) ospaye 4) division
5) otonwe 5) blood-related tribal division

*While practicing my Lakota vocabulary, I was corrected by a
young person who said I was mispronouncing certain
words--whereupon I was introduced to the Dakota dialect with
my ”1's“ replaced by the person's 'd's.”

40

C. THE CAMP CIRCLE

As Figures I and II suggest, the camp circle was
significant at both a micro and macro level. One knew one's
place within it both “at home” in the day-to-day sense, and in
a more abstract, conceptual way (i.e., when the “nation" or
division would gather). Yet, as central as this notion of
"camp-circle" was to Lakota life, its composition has been
difficult for observers to pin down. Gordon MacGregor's
classic work on the Pine Ridge Reservation called attention to
this problem (1946, 52-3):

“The encampments are not always defined in

descriptions of Dakota lsic/ social organization

because they were not permanent the year round and

were constantly shifting in band membership . . .

The encampments are also confused in historical

literature with the smaller bands and sometimes with

the larger subtribes.‘

Since MacGregor's time, the social universe of Black Elk has
been studied in greater detail (in large measure due to the
interest generated by Black Elk himself). These pages distill
what clarity has been found.

Having come a long way from simply being known as ”little
snakes," this Plains folk are now understood to be a
geographically widespread, linguistically differentiated,
nomadic and semi-sedentary people whose organizing principle
was the camp circle. The nation-at-large was conceived thus
(oceti sakowin), as were the Teton of the west. Moreover,

.fi___._______

eelthin this division was Black Elk's sub-group, the Oglala,

(who also were comprised of seven segments (Figure III). The

41

Pisfltg 1 CA“, CIRCLE 0' THE SEVEN COUNCIL PINES
("Wieeez;f) ('Oeeti Sakewin')
er

(”he-ceka")

SISITONHAN

(Camping Amen; Swamps)
EAKOTA
(Siseetone)

   
 
    
     
  
 
 
 
 
 

WAIPIIUTE
(Shooters Amen; the Leaves)
gaunt;
(Santee)
03
O
IDIWAKANTOIUAI IIANKTONWAI
(Peeple ef Spirit La (Camping at the End)
RAIDEA ‘.) 2’301‘
(Mdewakanteas) . (Yankteee)
er .‘
(“Spirit takers!
'3 ‘. IIANKTONWANNA
The Little Tsnktons)
gator.
(Yanktenaie)
WABPETONWAN .7
(Dwellers Among the Leaves)
galori N
(Sentee)
'6
TETONWAN \J E
(People of the Prairie)
LAKOTA
(Teton)
41* 5
5:!
Line 1: traditional name
Line 2: translation *Traditien has it that the Teten
Line 3: dialect usurped the place of honer from the
Line 6: saslicized present name Hdewaksntons (thus modifying the above

Number: order of precedence diagram of the camp-circle).

42

Plant. 2 CAMP CIRCLE 0' I“! TITO“
OOEINOII‘
("Bail-twice“)

Two Kettles

NINIKANYIHOZUPI
(”Flant-near-wster')

Niniconleu

     
 

SICAIGU
OGLALA ("Thighs-scorched“)
(”Ecsttars Own“) 25;;3:
Ollala
d) IMNKIAIA
("End-ef-hern")
Hunkygzg
ITAZIPCO
(”Neuter“)
Sane £53
'5
SIIASAEA
("Blackfeet“)
Blackfeet
T
M
Ks!
Line 1: traditienal name
Line 2: translatien y] E

Line 3: present name
Number: order sf precedence

43

’1‘!!! 3 CAMP CIRCLE OF THE OCLALA
IAPIBLICA
("Buffalo-spleen")
0‘

  
  
 

OIYUHPE
("Unloade“)
'2
PYABKL
KIYUKSA (“Shove-aside")
(”Disregards-ewn") .5
Pl
HAZAZA WACLUNE
(”Fringed”) ("Imprevident")
I3 .7
N
ITESICA
(”lad-face")
'6‘ VJ
£21
Line 1: traditional name 3

Line 2: translation

*Trsditien has it that the lad-faces
usurped the place of honor from the

. ‘IMCCe

Line 9: order of precedence

44

_su__1'1 n I. M
lni-tipi (sweat-lodge): placed outside the camp circle: dome-shaped ‘ 0 1
Ti ti 1 (council-lodge): unoccupied; large lodge wherein the otio ti 1
i.e., lodge hesdmen) preside over the p_eta omniciye (council fire
and transact commnal business ‘

Tipis pitched outside the camp-circle indicate people in disgrace
or resistant to camp leadership

........I C

’5
In:
I
3
I
I
‘U
v

 

‘ Indicates highest places of honor. Warriors of renown were
entitled'to occupy places at the entrance (oinapa)-their
tipie facing the rising sun while others open to the camp
center (hecoks).

45

eastern divisions, with whom the Lakota had sporadic contact,
were similarly arranged. Hence, daily life was carried on
within a local camp (Figure IV), and the social configuration

of this grouping expanded outward to eventually include all of

the oyate ikce ankantu.

 

 

A given individual's first-hand experience was that of a
kinbased social network embodied in the local camp. Radiating
from this were progressively inclusive identities which
ultimately completed what might be considered a national
portrait. Person's like Black Elk might have described this
totality as follows: 'I belong to the Bad Face camp--one of
seven Oglala groups, and my Oglala group is one of seven
divisions among us Teton. We recognize as relatives and
friends six other large family-wings to the east.“

It should be noted that such a conceptualization did not
play a particularly prominent role in most people's lives. In
fact, old-time' Lakota might match the caricature of a
present-day person from New York who only has a vague sense of
what lies west of the Hudson) Both, however, could describe
something of a national identity comprised of neighborhoods or
camps which eclipse their own immediate experience.
Naturally, the accuracy of such descriptions would vary from
person to person.

Regardless of one's competence in describing the
overlapping social structures of their nation, the more
immediate reality of camp-life made everyone an authority.

That is, within a given band, relationships were well-defined,

46

and one's privileges, responsibilities, and status were known
to all.

Whereas semi-sedentary villages were not uncommon to the
eastern Dakota (earthlodges maintained, in some instances),
their presence among the Teton was unknown (Eggan 1966,
45-77). Lakota camps did not remain in one spot year-round,
and never enjoyed a fixed membership. Fluidity of composition
was due both to internecine struggles and climate--the latter
producing an overall pattern of warm-weather fusion with large
groups disbanding into smaller parties come winter. This
aggregation/dispersal motif was, appropriately enough, the
very same seasonal behavior of the buffalo--the people's
primary subsistence resource (see Chart I).

Because of the fission/fusion nature of Teton camps,
early observers found it difficult to fully understand their
structure. Diligent research and countless interviews have,
though, provided a fairly good understanding of how camps
'worked"--knowledge of which has benefitted both the academic
community and heritage-minded Lakota. Black Elk's generation
derived their identity from, and themselves defined, the
lifeblood of camp-tradition that would eventually coagulate to
produce the contemporary reservation settlement pattern.

D. CAMP LANDSCAPE

As if to replicate in miniature form the nation as a
whole, camps were pitched in a circle whose entrance (oinapa)
faced the rising sun. Tipis faced ‘toward the camp-circle

(hocoka), and like the Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fires),

 

47

 

 

 

Hide preparations
Food

BUCKSKIN

Cradles
Moccasins
Winter-robes
Bedding
Shirts
Belts
Leggings
Dresses
Bags
Ouivers

- Tipi-covers
Tipi-liners
Bridles
Backrests
Tapestries

 

Preshsped moccasin

HOOPS, FEET, 6 DBWCLAWS

Glue
Rattles
Spoons

NORNS

arrow points, cups, fire-
carrier. spoons , ladies,

toys , powderhorn,

head-dress, signals,

medication

LIVER

Tanning-agents
CALL

 

Yellow paints

Chart 1 THE ROLE OF THE BUFFALO IN LAKOTA CULTURE
BEARD Sweatlodge-covers MEAT
Dolls
Ornamentation Mittens Immediate use
Sausages
BLOOD CHIPS Cached
Jerky (dehydrated)
Soup Fuel Pemmican (processed)
Pudding Diaper-powder
Paint MUSCLES
2:3. —"
BONES Glue preparation
Tallow Bows
Flashing-tools Soaps Thread
Pipes Hair-grease Arrow ties
Knives Cosmetic-aids - Cinches
Arrow—points
Shovels NAIR PAUNCH LINER
Splints
Sleds Need-dresses Nestdwrsppings
War-clubs Pad-fillers Buckets
Scrapers Pillows Collapsible cups
nuirts Ropes Basins
Awle Hair-pieces Canteens
Paintbrushes Halters
Game-dice Bracelets RAWHIDB
Tablewesr Nedicine-balls
Toys Moccasin-lining Containers. shields,
Jewelry Doll-stuffing Buckets. moccasin soles.
drums, splints, mortars,
BRAIN HIND LEG SKIN ropes, sheaths. saddles

B blankets, stirrups.
bulloboats, masks. lariats,
straps, caps, snowshoes

SCROTUM
Rattles L containers

SKULL
Sun:3ance, aecicina.prsyers

STOMACH LINER 6 CONTENTS
medicines, paints, water
containers, cooking vessels

TAILLTBETHL_TONGUE
whips, switches,’brushes,
ornaments. comb, choice most

M
sinew/sewing, bowstrings
BLADDER

Pouches
Medicine bags

48

statuses were associated with fixed positions within the
circumference. For example, warriors of renown were closest
to the entrance, while the camp-leader was positioned directly
opposite. Tipis pitched outside the camp-circle indicated
people in disgrace or those who were resistant to the
prevailing leadership. Within the perimeter, tipis pitched at
the rear of another were subordinate, status-wise, to those in
front.

A typical warm-weather encampment would include domed
sweat-lodges (121-2121) constructed outside the circle.
Ownership, number, and use of these purificatory chambers were
regulated, it seems , by nothing other than expedience. They
were easily built, and frequently used.

Close to the leader's tipi was the council-lodge

(tiyotipi) wherein communal business was transacted, and the

 

council fire (peta omniciye) preserved. High-status

 

individuals were allowed within this forum, and their
decisions cast them as either perennial incumbents or deposed
failures. After all, survival was often at stake--be it
related to defence or subsistence. Lack of success in these
and other pursuits could not be justified for any length of
time. Hence, families outside the camp-circle might well find
themselves eventually within it--their resistance to previous
decisions perhaps showing some wisdom. And too, families
could break off from a camp entirely, and re-organize their
following under new auspices-~within a circle of their own.

E. CAMP SIZES AND LEADERSHIP

49

Regardless of frequency, factional disputes and camp
fragmentation did not alter what might be termed the normative.
Lakota political structure within each camp. At first glance,
a pyramidal configuration of power seems to have been
operative. However, as will be shown, power was
relative-~both figuratively and literally. Everyone, in some
form, was beholden to everybody else. With this in mind,
structural ”offices” can be appreciated as functional roles
which helped facilitate cooperation and survival for the group
as a whole.

The popular notion that Indian leaders were "chiefs” and
their followers “braves,” apart from its sexist connotation,
represents colloquial convenience at the expense of a more
sophisticated grasp of Lakota social organization. It is true
that, in recent times, the English word ”chief“ has often been
used by Tetons themselves when referring to leadership roles,
but this contemporary usage is not entirely consonant with
what the tradition actually bore. Black Elk himself was
accorded this title, posthumously, by those who saw fit to
provide his grave with a special headstone (see Photograph).
Yet, the pre-reservation period was not so gratuitous in the
bestowal of such honors-~save for acknowledging that one was
indeed 'chief' within their own tipi. The public forum,
however, required more formal structuring.

The social organization of camp life was contingent upon
the fluid conditions of a nomadic way. Flora, toes, and

fauna, weal, weather, and woe--all conspired to be the

50

fluctuating variables which tailored Lakota existence.
Because of this, the description of a "typical“ camp needs
several qualifiers--the end result being a 'more-or-less kind
of ”thick description.”

For example, are we speaking about a large camp? A small
one? A renegade grouping? Which kind? Early observers of
Lakota life were understandably befuddled as different
constraints regularly altered configurations of authority and
camp-size itself. Custer's demise was the result of his
attack upon the inhabitants of a camp who outnumbered his men
fifty to one. Were the Seventh Cavalry to have conducted this
exploit a month earlier, or later, Little Big Horn would not
denote today what it does.

Even though the plasticity of Lakota camp-life offers
complicating variables, certain features seem constant enough
to merit the designation of "political structure.“ Under this
rubric, we can include the formal offices, or roles, which
people recognized within both small and large groupings. Just
as one might expect to find a mayor, judge, council, and
police force within most towns and cities of America today, so
might one have found an analogous (not homologous) arrangement
among the Lakota, as the following paragraphs will illustrate.

Presiding within the council lodge, spokesman for a given
camp, and persona whose influence was recognized by other
neighboring groups, wigaga itancan was the leadership role
that was communally affirmed. Literally, the phrase means

”man-leader,” but has been rendered in the vernacular a

51

"chief.“ Public opinion determined if succession followed
from father to eldest son--a hereditary feature that seems to
have been the general rule. However, this person was not alone
in bearing the burden of camp-leadership.

The wakiconza, translated a "magistrate“ or ”counsellor,“

 

was a position occupied by several men whose credentials the
people acknowledged by granting them special responsibility.
For example, a camp-in-transit was under their direction, as
was the arbitration of disputes, and selection of camp police.
This latter group, drawn from the seven or so warrior
societies which existed, kept order on the hunt and during war
excursions. Known as akicita, one chosen for this task
carried a wooden stick made of ash and was, with black stripe
on the cheek, a readily identifiable judicial presence. The
akicita thwarted mischief-makers, punished the irresponsible,
and on rare occasion, meted out the death penalty (Walker
1982, 31).

A camp's most influential people sat in council with the

itancan, wakiconza, and akicita--producing, as it were, a

 

fairly broad-based kind of democratic deliberation. Although
not everyone was included within the council lodge (tiyotipi),
representation of issues and ideas was no doubt circumspect.
Among the prestigious social positions which carried status
within a camp, and which therefore often had access to council
were: shamans, headmen, warriors, hunters, storytellers,
medicine men, and old people suspected of having peculiar

power (Walker 1982, 62).

52

Because the size of a camp dictated its social
arrangement, sample variations are listed below. Accounts
rendered by different informants do not always coincide with
one another--a puzzlement to one seeking accurate ethnographic
detail. It seems, however, that such a meticulous
reconstruction of camp-life is, ultimately, a proposition
admitting several possibilities.

In essence, we know different persons, in the course of a
lifetime, belonged to many camps--in good weather and bad,
during rendezvous periods and dispersal times. The “memory
culture“ being recalled depended upon a lifetime of many
memories, at many places, within many camp-circles.
Commentators do not seem to have fully appreciated this as
they aimed to reconstruct a camp-portrait 'frozen-in-time.”
If each description were then placed next to one another, a
nuanced series of pictures would no doubt be seen, and the
above observation explains why this would be so.

P. PROM WOODLAND TO PLAINS
By the time Lewis Henry Morgan produced his

anthropological epic, The League of the Iroquois, this

 

confederation of people had long been at peace (1962).
However, their image from an earlier period was that of a
marauding, and merciless, nation intent on subduing the
continent. Arguments have been made which associate this
belligerent spirit with a felt religious imperative, viz., to
bring all people into one fold, their own, as prescribed by
the prophet Deganawidah (Hunt 1967; Wallace 1969). a

53

less-nationalistic interpretation of Iroquois militancy is one
that imputes more to mercantilism than it does to a mercenary,
spiritual fervor. That is, the League found itself a victim
of the French/English confrontation in North America--a
European showdown which forced Native peoples to cast their
lot with whomever offered the most profitable incentives. At
stake for France and England were fertile lands, and a
lucrative fur trade. At stake for Native peoples was
survival, and Last of thg Mgniggng, albeit the title of a
literary classic, sums up fairly well how much of the Indian
population fared (”last," of course, being the operative word
in this context).

This seventeenth century struggle affected Black Elk's
ancestors--a people who lived in the woodlands east of the
Missouri River (Lehmer 1977, 154). Whether the aggression be
due to religion, revelry, disposition, dispossession,
economics, self-preservation, or a combination of all these,
Iroquois sorties against the Chippewa and other groups of the
Great Lakes region prompted population movements westward.
Hence, what eventually became known as High Plains tribes were
the descendants of folk socialized in an entirely different
terrain.

Aided in their migration by the growing ubiquity of
horses and guns, these people fanned onto the Plains like the
buffalo upon which they subsisted. In fact, their adaptation
was so complete that Clark Wissler concluded Plains culture to

be 'timeless'--extending back into the primordial past.

54

However, ethnohistorical research, along with other studies,
has pretty much fixed its now well-known emergence and
configuration at the mid-eighteenth century (Anderson 1984).
Adaptation from the Woodland life to High Plains
existence was not simply a matter of "packing up and moving.‘
It was, rather, a transition that involved systemic
re-organization. The chart below indicates some of the major

features of what such change included.

PRAIRIE PLAINS

l) Sedentary l) Nomadic

2) Village 2) Band

3) Agriculturalists with 3) Foragers with an at times
seasonal surpluses precarious subsistence

4) Clan/Moiety villages 4) Amorphous bands with fluid
with more-or-less static composition contingent
populace upon success in war and

hunt

5) Leadership hereditary 5) Leadership hereditary if
with ascribed status: war merited; status usually
mostly a defensive tactic achieved; chief and

chief's council the norm
6) Kinship reckoning unilateral 6) Bilateral reckoning
and extended vertically extended horizontally on
through clan relationships basis of generation
The heart of Lakota social life which beat within the
more outwardly observable cultural traits was everyone's sense
of relatedness to others and, ultimately, the world as a
whole. Ethnographies have often addressed this organic facet
of social intercourse by discussing such things as descent,
marriage, kinship terminology, genealogies, and so forth. And

yet, two of the more prominent and contemporary observers of

55

Lakota culture have suggested that much remains to be explored
within this area. DeMallie, for example, has said that:

“A study of Lakota kin terms that strictly used the

genealogical method . . . /or/ that strictly used

Morgan's method of interviewing . . . would simply

miss the complexity of Lakota life (1979, 235).”
He further implies that what is at stake is the Lakota
world-view itself. Similarly, Powers has confessed that
"adequate explanations of kinship, marriage, and descent“ are,
regrettably, lacking (1975, 36). Consequently, in order to
appreciate social sentiments cherished by people like Black
Elk, it is essential to understand how his people reckoned,
controlled, and constructed their relatedness to one another
and their environment as a whole.
6. LAKOTA MARRIAGE

Just as Lakota trickster stories often served as vehicles
of moral pedagogy, so too have recent jokes accomplished the
same. With the function of oral narrative seen in this light,
and in lieu of what was perhaps formerly an Iktomi story, the
following tale can be instructive, and preface the broader

discussion at hand.

Long ago, Dreaming Bear looked across the lake
and saw the woman of his dreams. Her name was White
Rabbit. She was beautiful, he could tell--even from
across the waters. She, in turn, could see the
brave and handsome Dreaming Bear, and she knew that
he was the man who would make her happy.

Daily, they stood on opposite shores--gazing at
one another across the waters. Their hearts
quickened as they squinted to see one another's
features. Weeks went by, and Dreaming Bear finally
decided he could no longer restrain himself. He
dove into the waters and started swimming to be with

56

his beautiful White Rabbit. She, too, began
swimming toward him. .

They swam and swam across the waters--their
hearts burning with desire to be with one another.
But the waters were cold and deep, and both Dreaming
Bear and White Rabbit began to weaken. Their
strength was gone by the time they reached the
center of the lake. And, having only enough energy
to touch hands, the waters swallowed them up, and
both Dreaming Bear and White Rabbit drowned.

To this day, Lakota elders instruct their young
about the story of Dreaming Bear and White Rabbit.
They tell of what they did, and how they drowned in
trying to meet one another, and consummate their
love. And ever since that time, Lakota elders have
called this great body of water, ”Lake Stupid.”

Among the Lakota, one was advised to go to the top of a
hill and look for a wife on the other side." This wisdom was
bolstered by the aphorism 'do not choose a wife from. the

corner of your household” (Powers 1975, 35). Members of the

camp (wico ti) and band (tiyospaye) regarded one another as

 

kin (otakuye). Hence, dutiful youth sought eligible mates
outside their own band so as to avoid incest (wogluze).
Stories like that of Dreaming Bear and White Rabbit reinforced
this social pattern by illustrating how marriage regulated by
hormones led to one's demise. In the words of Levi-Strauss,
this kind of oral narrative confirmed “the pre-eminence of the
social over the natural, the collective over the individual,
Iand/organization over the arbitrary'(l969, 45).

Lakota life did witness elopements from time to time, and
individual preferences in choosing a mate were acknowledged.
However, a young man ordinarily courted both the girl and her
family. Ultimately, then, Lakota marriage was an exogamous

union that cemented an alliance between two tiyospaye-s.

57

Sororal polygny reinforced this bond, while the levirate and
sororate fostered even further ties. These latter
institutions were not particularly coveted goals that one
sought but were, rather, .a kind of social safety-valve.
Supporting many dependents was simply not an easy task, no
matter what their domestic contribution.

When Black Elk was growing up, the conventional courtship
consisted of males vying for the privilege of standing under a
blanket with the desired, closely-chaperoned, maiden (virtuous
women were prized, and so, attracted more suitors). Charms
would be worn, flute-music would be played, and gifts would be
exchanged in a scenario that allowed the girl and her family
to decide who the best choice would be. Eventually, the
maiden's brothers negotiated a ”price“ for their sister which,
once agreed upon, was ratified by a feast. The price involved
goods like horses and robes, and perhaps included taking up
initial residence with the bride's family. The feast was
called 'winyan he cinacaqupi” or, ”he wanted that girl so they
gave her to him'--an understatement if there ever was one,
given the social and economic dimensions of this very
ritualized courting process (Hassrick, 114-18).

N. DEPERENTIAL BEHAVIOR AND KIN NOMENCLATURE

It was not uncommon for residence to be matrilocal at the
beginning, and then shift sometime afterward. Flexibility
seems to have been the rule here, but clearly not the case as

to how individuals comported themselves in face-to-face

58

relationships. A motif of respect and avoidance governed
encounters wherever the hearth was to be found.

Toward their parents and grandparents, children
manifested both deference and devotion. Another form of
respect, and concomitant guard against incest, was the
complete avoidance in everyday activities between brothers and
sisters. And yet, their high regard for one another
manifested itself through the exchange of such items as
wartrophies and mocassins. Brothers- and sisters-in-law
maintained a joking orl teasing posture toward one
another--roles which not only eased tension or permitted
working as a unit, but they were also roles which facilitated
an easier transition to marriage (with husband's brother or
wife's sister, should the levirate/sororate custom ever be
invoked). Parents-in-law were accorded extreme respect,
complete avoidance by the male toward his mother-in-law and by
the female toward her father-in-law. Pre-literate people
are frequently described as "kin-based," and the Lakota were
no exception. Social relations entailed the customary ways of
behaving within or among a group of related individuals, and
genealogical charts, like that of the Lakota below, are
analytical devices which illustrate how one (ego) referred to
lineal and collateral relatives. In the example here, we see
that Black Elk's people merged lineal and collateral
relatives--treating cross-cousins as siblings, and forging
marriages outside the range of blood-relations. The

horizontal cast of this social structure is, however, the

59

foundation of an even more expansive system which incorporated
far more than what 'Iroquoian cousin" and 'bifurcate merging“
terminology implies. DeMallie's earlier reference to the
”complexity of Lakota life“ was directed at this issue of
kinship--not at some kind of socio-economic blight (although
there, too, it could apply).

The illustration here is straightforward in its depiction
of mother's sisters (with their husbands), and father's
brothers (with their wives) as all being addressed by mother
and father terms ('ina' and "ate” respectively). Similarly,
mother's brothers (with their wives, and father's sisters
(with their husbands) are all designated as uncle and' aunt
('lekshi' and 'tonwin' respectively). Cross-cousins were
accorded the terms 'tahanshi" (male) and 'hankashi" (female),
but their behavior toward ego was that of a sibling (Hassrick,

312-13) , Nos. 1-4 indicate additional sibling terms to those charted.

 

 

baa A46 7:55 2 do 028

Tonwin Lekshi Ate Ina Ate Ina Ina Ate Tonwin Lekshi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A 6 A1 6.1510 A. .722:

Tahanshi Hankashi Chen Tankshi Tahanshi Hankss
(older (younger
brother) sister)

60

Why one be called a cousin, yet act like a brother or
sister, has prompted speculation that earlier terminology had
not kept pace with social change. That is, a separate
terminology for cross-cousins perhaps functioned in
pre-contact, woodland times as a means of denoting preferred
marriage-partners. However, moving west expanded the Lakota
marriage-universe. This shift in practice was perhaps still
unfolding in the historic period such that a nomenclature
reflecting this change had not become fixed.

I. PICTIVE-BUT PELT-KINSNIP

As helpful as genealogical charting can be, the fictive
component of Lakota social relations is just as important.
When DeMallie observes that "Lakota kinship cannot be
.understood Isolely/ . . . in terms of the traditional
categories of descent and marriage,” he is, in fact, calling
attention to the variegated ways this people 'familialized'
their universe (1979, 222). For instance, one could be ”made
a relative" through the hunkapi ceremony. This religious rite
conferred family-status upon the initiate who was subsequently
treated "as if" a father, brother, sister, etc. (Brown 1953,
101-15; Walker 1982, 5-6). Similarly, relationship
terminology was applied to offices within social groups and to
those for whom one had “feeling,“ or whose behavior merited
it. Terms were also bestowed on nature (earth, sun, moon,
etc.) and the Great Spirit (22525 22252) was itself addressed
as “grandfather“ (Tunkashila).

Like other peoples, the Lakota considered it dreadful to

61

be without relatives. However, the possibility of such a
nightmare was quite remote. In some form or another, familial
connectedness was an operative feature wherever one looked.
And be it a visionary ideal, perceived reality, or calming

assurance, the phrase ”all are relatives“ (mitak oyassin) was

 

repeatedly uttered and heard throughout one's life at the
conclusion of all religious rituals. These year-round,
life-long activities were a kind of perpetual goading of
everyone to actualize relatednes (Sandoz, 1961).

Dovetailing with the above were the associations one made
enroute to gaining status and prestige within local and larger
communities. These associations were what might loosely be
termed friendships, memberships, or organizational
belongings--rendered in the literature as 'sodalities,‘
"warrior societies," or (less sexist) “societies.” The Lakota
term for these groupings was 'okolakiciyapi,” and the major

ones of the historic period were: Tokala, Kangiyuha, Cante

 

Tings, Miwatani, lhgkg,'§g£kg 32221 and gigi_ kg. (Wissler,
1912). A variety of shaman groups (i.e., different rituals
with practitioners for each) also existed, along with women's
guilds or groups (the focus of these being religious or
handicraft specialization).

Membership in groups was not strictly age-graded, and a
person could belong to several of them at the same time. At
about the age of seven, one was invited to join a group--full
membership coming later on. Officers were elected for the

different groups, and served for specific periods of time.

62

Meanwhile, camaraderie was the earmark of these organizations,
and sentiments were fostered , which blossomed into
terminological designations like "brother," "cousin," ”uncle,“
and so forth. Similarly, to be one's 'kola' (friend) in such
groupings facilitated sexual access to a companion's spouse.
In short, persons of both sexes belonged to a variety of
organizations within which an individual could gain the
respect and admiration of old and young alike. Such persons
were role models who, as war and pestilence whittled away the
population, became few in number as time passed.

Despite Wissler's argument that Plains culture was
“timeless,” other observers contrarily noted that adaptation
might well have been the earmark of peoples who forged a new
life out of earlier, prairie patterns (Mooney 1907, 361;
Kardiner 1945, 47). As mentioned before, part of this overall
strategy was an egalitarianism which,among the Lakota,
certainly prevailed. Authority-roles could be, in fact, more
titular than real, as Parkman observed long ago (1950,
115-16):

'. . . does the /chief/ fail in gaining their favor,

they will desert him at any moment; for the usages

of his people have provided no sanctions by which he

may enforce his authority.“

Be it non-coercive leadership, rugged individualism, or

social-groupings which nurtured a militant esprit-de-corps,

 

 

plains-living for the Lakota fostered social mechanisms and
elicited behavior that seemed best suited for survival in an

ever-hostile environment.

63

Be their adversaries human or animal, their opponents
alive or inanimate, the Lakota struggle for a safe niche was
sustained by a resilience that made them spirited foes. This
resilience provided a flexibility whose limits were unbounded,
as all Lakota being was assured access to the power of
Wakan-Tanka. This reservoir of power permeated the changing
internal and external environments that befell the people, and
so they were assured of a continued survival which was more
contingent upon their right-relationship to the sacred than on
the forces that confronted them, on the ”natural” plane. At
least, such is what appears to have been the underlying,

empirically elusive attribute of a migrating Lakota people.

CHAPTER III
THE HISTORICAL PERSONALITY OF THE LAKOTA

Few Indian groups have gained as much attention over time
as the Lakota. Claiming for their tradition such luminaries
as Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, Lame Deer, Fools
Crow, and many more, the Lakota have dominated the American
mind and media (both in fanciful and factual terms) for over a
century.

Most recently, for example, television's ”mini-series“
entitled “The Mystic Warrior“ was based on the best-selling
novel 22252 32 (Hill 1979). The book's title was publicized
as meaning “clear the way('--a reference to the story's theme
of migrating west. Actually, however, ”hanta yo“ is a Lakota
phrase rendered more precisely as 'get out of the way" (as
when a grandparent tells an underfoot child to play
elsewhere). The book's authenticity was supposedly bolstered
through Hill's twenty-five year collaboration with a Teton
'dakotah' /sic/. See Powers (1979) and Taylor (1980) for
critiques of Hill--her novel referred to by Kroeber (1983) as
"trash" (even though its adaptation to television was

supervised by contemporary Lakota who approved of its
production)!

Earlier, the 1950's film entitled "Crazy Horse" was a
reprise to those movies which had the Sioux always losing
battles. But before these modern portrayals, Buffalo Bill
Cody's travelling “wild west” show catapulted the Lakota to

celebrity status and stimulated the popularity of Zane
64

65

Grey-like novels in Europe that featured Sioux heroes. - The
interest in Amer-Indian lifeways that these books generated is
still noticeable today as a number of Indian Clubs exist
(particularly in Germany) whose raison d'etre is based on a
long-cultivated curiosity. It was the last century, however,
that served as a springboard for a still-prevailing notoriety.

Defeating the United States in war under Red Cloud during
the 1860's, Black Elk's people came into. the international
limelight with their victory over Custer at Little Big Horn in
1876. Curiously, these many years after the famous ”battle of
the Greasy Grass' (i.e., Little Big Horn) attention still
focuses on this sun-baked Montana hill. Perhaps due to the
event occurring on the nation's centennial, perhaps due to the
fame of Custer (a Civil War hero and possible presidential
candidate), or perhaps due to the reputation of its Indian
participants, this massacre of ”the Great Sioux War“ has
generated a steady stream of books and articles which somehow
re-address the personnel and actions taken this day by both
sides.

In 1982 a Navy pathologist sought to exhume the bodies of
264 Seventh Cavalry troopers in order to see if they had all
committed suicide! His theory was that the Indian resistance
would have been so depressing to confront that ordinary
soldiers would have taken their own lives) Why this tack was
even allowed to be pursued is surprising. In 1958 an
exhumation of another group of cavalrymen was performed and it

showed that they did, indeed, die of battle wounds (Anderson

66

1982). At the time of this writing an excavation of the
battlefield is continuing and shedding new 'light on a battle
which, it would seem, had long been clearly understood.‘

Confined to reservation living by 1878, the Lakota once
again captured world attention by embracing the Ghost Dance.
This “revitalization movement" was sapped of its momentum when
over two-hundred of Big Foot's followers (mostly women and
children) were killed by the U.S. Army in 1890 near what is
now WOunded Knee, South Dakota (Utley 1963)--a place which,
prior to the 1930's, was named ”Brennan, South Dakota.“

More recently, joining the armed forces of the United
States has appealed to countless young Lakota while others
have distinguished themselves as minuteman-like firefighters.
Flown to regions turned-inferno, these people have numerous
times been credited with saving life and property. Olympic
gold-medalist Billy Mills, artist Oscar Howe, writer Vine
Deloria, congressman Ben Reifel, social activist Russell
Means, and a score of other Sioux have assumed leadership
roles within highly visible and varied sectors of American
society. ,

The nineteenth-century Lakota world sketched by Neihardt
was foreign to Lucy's experience of family life, and thus
only alluded to fragmentarily. This pattern surfaces
*The newly reprinted Custer's Fall ”The Indian Side of the
Story”(Miller 1957) 15_3_-ITEEIE=Known work whose ”ring of
authenticity” arises from its content based upon the
recollections of old Lakota men who were at the battle (Black
Elk is a contributor to the book). See also Evan S. Connell's

Son of the Morning Star, New York Harper 5 Row, 1985 for yet
another, more recent, analysis of this conflict.

67

throughout her account, and its first appearance is in the
text which follows. In it, we are lifted into the last
century, and matter-of-factly introduced to Black Elk's family
as it existed when Plains culture was at its zenith.
Ironically, those were years of warfare. And yet, this was
probably (as suggested in the preceding chapter) a leitmotif
of Plains existence from the beginning.

"Give me eighty men and I would ride through the whole
Sioux nation" was the boast of Captain William. J. Fetterman
prior to his command's annihilation December 21, 1866 near
Fort Phil Kearny in Montana. This "Fetterman Massacre” is
what Lucy refers to as the "battle of the one-hundred
slain'--the old Lakota way of describing this incident of Red
Cloud's War (1866-68). The now-controversial Fort Laramie
Treaty ended this conflict which forced the United States to
accede to Lakota demands and withdraw from the Powder River
country (Hyde 1937; Olson 1965; Hebard and Brininstool 1922;
Vestal 1932; Howard 1968).*

LUCY'S BLOOD-LINE

As her father had done, so does Lucy mention Black Elk's
father. Dying in 1889, he was placed on a scaffold--a
customary burial procedure for Plains people. In some
instances (winter, retreat during war), the body would be

placed in tree limbs, buried, or left in a tipi (Hassrick

*For the past hundred years, a claim to the Black Hills was pressed by dif-
ferent Lakota groups and, only recently, was a judgment rendered on their
behalf. Instead of the monetary settlement offered, some of the people

are insisting upon a return of the land itself--thus prompting further lit-
igation.

 

68

1964, 295-97).
Included within her family's genealogy, mentioned by
Black Elk to Neihardt and by Lucy to me, was Crazy Horse

(Tasunke Vitko). Among Indian people today, he is regarded as

 

an heroic figure whose name represents resistance to White
oppression (although.his representation on a thirteen-cents
stamp was probably for purposes of acknowledging Native
leadership). When he was killed at Fort Robinson, Nebraska in
1877 (by a cavalry policeman named Little Big Han, a Lakota),
Oglala military leadership suffered a great loss. His body
was taken away and secretly disposed of by family members.
Unknown to most people is that many persons have searched for
his remains since that time--hopeful of recovering some
tangible presence of the free spirit which so defied captivity
(Sandor 1961).

Other members of the Black Elk family-hearth are likewise
given attention, even though these members have no fame, and
even though Neihardt may have judged them extraneous to the
movement of his story. Although Neihardt's judgment-call on
this matter might have been appropriate for the sake of
brevity, such persons would not be so excluded by Lakota
narrators. One's personal identity, for good or for bad, was
largely fashioned .. by the individuals who comprised the
familial community (tiyospaye). Its distinct members fostered
one another's values, attitudes, and existential perspecrive.
Such is why Lucy acknowledged the network of kith and kin who
were part of life's daily routine within her father's world,

69

and the world of her own home-life (Hedicine 1969). Here Lucy

recounts her family background:

"Hy father had five sisters and one brother,
but I just knew two of my aunts. Hy grandfather was
wounded in the leg at the battle of the one-hundred
slain soldiers and was crippled, so my father was
the man of the house.* He was the one who had to
get out and hunt.

“Hy father's brother died a long time ago, and
I never knew him. When I was old enough to
understand, I'd see my father praying and crying on
a hill. He used to do that. Hy grandma told me
'he's crying for his brother.‘ His name was Wice na
Inyanka, Runs-in-the-Center. Somebody named film
t a en he went on the warpath. I

"Hy one aunt, Jenny Shot Close, died when I was
maybe three or four years old. She was sickly and
had tuberculosis, but she was really nice. She used
to comb my hair. Hy other aunt was Grace Pretty
Bird, and she is buried beside my grandma. She was
a nice, quiet woman who had two children--a boy and
a girl. I remember playing with my cousin and she
used to treat me mean. She'd hold me by the arm and
swing me til I got dizzy. Then my grandma would
really get mad. Hy cousins both died of
tuberculosis while they were young.

'I don't know where my grandfather is buried
because they always used to travel a lot in the old
days, and he died back then. So they made a
scaffold for him somewhere.

"Hy father always said that Crazy Horse was his
second cousin,‘ and he's dead too. Hy father's
mother was named Hary Leggins Down, and she died in
1915. I don't know why Neihardt called her 'White
Cow Sees.‘ I never heard that name before. It
wasn't my grandma, I know that.

"During his life, my father married two times.
The first marriage was a common-law marriage to a
woman named Katie War Bonnet, who died in 1901. She
had three boys: William, who died in infancy around
the year 1895; John, who died of tuberculosis at the
age of 12 in 1909; and Ben, who passed away in
February of 1973.

'Hy father's second marriage was to my
mother--whose name at birth was Between Lodge but
was later changed to Anna Brings White. She was a
widow who was left with two children from her first

*This same information is given in Black Elk Spgaks, p. 53;
but p. 199 mentions only one brother and one sister.

70

marriage (to a man named Waterman). These children
were Agatha and Hary, and my father adopted Hary
when he married my mother in 1905. Agatha was too
old to be adopted. But my sisters both died of
tuberculosis in 1910.

“From the marriage of my father and mother,
three Children were born. I was the oldest, and
only girl--born in Handerson, South Dakota, June 6,
1907. Hy brother Henry died in 1910 while still an
infant. But my brother Nicholas grew up and married
but he had the accident--that tragic accident. He
burned to death in 1959 while sleeping in a small
shack over in Nebraska.

"I guess that since my brother Ben is now gone,
it's up to me to relate a little history because I'm
the only one now surviving of Black Elk's
children--the same Black Elk people have read about
in the books Black Elk Speaks and The Sacred Pipe.”

 

 

Both in Black Elk Speaks and The Sixth Grandfather, the

 

 

name ”White Cow Sees" is given as mother's name and nothing
more is said. However, DeHallie is very careful to show
alternative renderings of people's names (e.g., Black Elk's
father, p. 102, Lucy's half-brothers, p. 13, and Black Elk's
second wife, p. 23). Lucy's mention of the name 'Leggins
Down" was said as offhandedly as one might say ”Jones” or
”Smith.” Neihardt perhaps changed the transcripts so as to
have a name for Black Elk's mother which did not have the
connotation it does to non-Lakota readers. Or perhaps Ben
Black Elk, who replaced Emil Afraid of Hawk as translator,
substituted this name instead of his grandmother's real one.
Whatever the case, Lucy was not pleased that her brother had
served in the capacity of translator as she felt he took
liberties with what her father intended to say. Baptismal
records support Lucy's statement, and further note that ”Hary”

Leggins Down was born in 1844.

71

William and John were given the birth names of Never
Showed Off and Good Voice Star, respectively. Cf., Pine Ridge
census rolls, 1893, 1896, and 1901 (National Archives and
Records Service, Record Group 75, Hicrocopy H595, rolls 365,
367, and 368). The baptismal records of Holy Rosary Hission,
Pine Ridge, South Dakota also contain such information along
with comments, occasionally, inscribed by the priests.

BLACK ELK'S LATER LIFE-~DISREGARDED BY OTHERS EXCEPT THE EAHILY

According to DeHallie (1984, 47):

”Black Elk told Neihardt very little about his
later life, his experiences in the Catholic Church,

his travels to other Indian reservations as a

missionary, and his work as a catechist at Pine

Ridge. Neihardt was curious about why Black Elk had

put aside his old religion. According to Hilda,

Black Elk merely replied, 'Hy children had to live

in this world,‘ and Neihardt did not probe any

further. For Neihardt, the beauty of Black Elk's

vision made the formalism of Christian religion seem

all the more stultifying, and he seems to have

accepted Black Elk's pragmatic explanation at face

value.“
Contrary to the above is Brown's opinion that Christian
participation was somehow seen as compromising the holy-man's
'Indian-ness.” Implied here is that Neihardt avoided the
issue and simply put together a book which emphasized “the end
of the trail“ or ”vanishing American“ theme. Lucy's comments
support what Brown said, but the purported “addition“
mentioned below does not exist in the Neihardt collection.
The pragmatic resignation implied by "my children had to live

in this world“ was not, according to Lucy, the kind of

sentiment owned by her father. She said:

72

“Hy father related to John Neihardt an addition
to his book, but they never put it out. Afterwards,
he realized this and wanted the last part of his
life also told--his life as a Christian man praying.
Hy father wanted it known that after he quit his
medicine practice, he became a catechist. But, this
man /Lucy pointed to a picture of John Neihardt/
really believed in the Indian religion . . . so . .

”I shall try with all my ability to relate this
untold history of my father, and I have felt guilty
at times not doing this as a memorial for him. When
my brother Ben was alive we always wondered if we
should do something like this. We got this idea
after my father's death, and I have waited for an
opportunity to relate the entire story of his life
as a holy-man.

”Hy name is Lucy Looks Twice now, but I was
Lucy Black Elk before I was married. And I am the
only living child of Nick Black Elk. Hany people
have already read about my father's life as a
medicine man in Black Elk Speaks and The Sacred
Pi e. So, I'd like to tell about the rest of his
IiEe--the many years not talked about in either
book. The greater part of his life was spent as a
Catholic catechist whom I knew as a meek and loving
father. This is the story I know about, want to
relate, and am happy to speak of. This needs to be
done while I am alive. Hy father would have wanted
me to do this.“

Such things as ”Black Elk's pragmatic explanation,“ ”the
beauty of Black Elk's vision," “the formalism of Christian
religion” (is traditional Lakota religious practice here
implied by DeHallie to be informal?) and other aspects of the
man's later life will all be addressed in the pages to come.
This will unfold through Lucy's account and through the words
of those who knew her father. How Black Elk became the matrix
of cultural continuities and discontinuities will be my task
to explain--a challenge, indeed, but one made easier because I

know that Lucy would have wanted me to do it.

CHAPTER I V
LAKOTA PSYCHO-SACRAL-SOHATIC MEDICAL PRACTICE

As elsewhere, Lucy offhandedly raises several points in
this next account which need clarification. And so,
prefacing these further recollections will be an explanation
of some key terms which figure prominently within discussions
about Lakota religion. As will be seen, contemporary
medicine's emphasis on ”holistic health" might well have taken
its cue from this Plains people (ngel 1970).

Just as the word "doctor” is collectively applied to such
divergent roles as dentist and heart surgeon, so too is the
term "medicine man” when moderns colloquially refer to
specialists found within Lakota society (n.b., linguistic
convention and lived reality permit retention of what might
otherwise be regarded as a sexist phrase, even though a word
like ”practitioner” could be employed--as woman-healers did
exist). In reality, a particular person's gifted power would
be sought for addressing specific ailments or needs.

Among the Oglala today, the ”medicine man” (pejuta
wicasa) is also commonly, regarded as a ”holy-man“ (wicasa
23522), although the two roles have traditionally been
separate (Brown 1953, 45n).* That is, the former referred to
healers who used herbs or applied certain skills for curing.
The latter term implied one's acquisition of mystical power
which was either put to work on behalf of a patient, or was
*lgflggigin, the French word for “doctor,” is the origin of the

phrase ”medicine man.” 73

74

the reason why such a person could preside at certain
ceremonial occasions. Time and practice have obscured precise
usage of the terms by Lakota speakers and others. Yet, in
spite of this change, Lucy's narrative rightly characterizes
her father as a pejuta wicasa prior to his work as a catechist
(the same phrase applied to osteopathic and allopathic
physicians of the non-Lakota world).* Current parlance would

accord her father the title of wicasa wakan once he became a

 

catechist--a phrase likewise designating the priests with whom
he worked.

Having dreamed of lightning, men were obliged to
undertake the heyoka (clown) practice--lest they be struck
down by lightning. According to Buechel (1970, 174), the term
”heyoka" is the name of a ”Dakota god . . . represented as a
little old man with a cocked hat on his head, a bow and arrows
in his hands and a quiver on his back. In winter he goes
naked, and in the summer he wraps his buffalo robe around

himself." As the definition suggests, behavior of the heyoka

 

was profoundly non-conformist and humor depended upon one's
ability to act contrary to all norms (Lewis 1970, 7-17; 1981,
100-04; Starkloff 1974, 74).

At first glance, heyoka participation within the Lakota
religious system might seem to be a peculiar admixture of
humorous and sacred conceptions. However, such a commingling
has been (and still is) present within the larger, so-called

"world religions.” Its obvious manifestation is, of course,

*Neihardt's terminology is at variance with this.

75

the ubiquitous Trickster figure (Radin 1956), and according to
Hyers (1969, 7), the rationale for so curious a phenomenon is

that:

“The comic spirit is fundamentally a certain
attitude toward and perspective upon life. The
essential element in relation to the sacred is the
periodic suspension of seriousness and sacrality . .
. and the realization of the playful, gamelike
quality inherent in all human enterprises, however
holy.

"Comedy in fact plays with both the categories
of reason and irrationality, of order and chaos, of
meaning and meaninglessness, and in so doing . . .
opens up the playfulness at the heart of reality
itself . . ."

In specifically addressing the heyoka cult within Lakota
religious tradition, Black Elk lends support to the Hyers
contention (BBS, 159-60).

”You have noticed that the truth comes into
this world with two faces. One is sad with
suffering, and the other laughs; but it is the same
face, laughing and weeping. When people are already
in despair, maybe the laughing face is better for
them; and when they feel too good and are too sure
of being safe, maybe the weeping face is better for
them to see."

The heyoka, it seems, provides the harmonizing element to a

human existence charged with emotional and psychological

76

extremes. The heyoka, therefore, keeps in 'check one's
tendency to distort reality. A kind of native 'therapist,‘
the heyoka seems to have helped people keep things in

 

perspective (Brown 1979, 58).

Whether coincidental or the result of instruction, Black
Elk's reflections on laughing and weeping curiously parallel
those of Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuit Order (to
which Black Elk's priest-friends belonged.) Referred to as
states of "consolation” or "desolation,“ periods of weal and
woe were addressed at length by the 16th-century mystic, i.e.,
as such ”movements of spirit” affected a given individual
(Puhl 1963, 141-150). Jesuits since the time of Ignatius have
been schooled on this matter and they, in turn, frequently
pass his teaching on to others. Hence, traditional Jesuit
perceptions of this duality either fashioned Black Elk's
thinking on the subject, or simply devetail compatibly with an
older, Lakota approach (perhaps both).

Yuwipi literally refers to "transparent stones“ used in

 

ceremonies conducted by modern day Lakota shamans. The word
has also been rendered ”to wrap around” (Buechel, 656). Bound
firmly within a star quilt, the specialist performs this
ritual in total darkness--calling upon diverse spirits which
often appear as glimmering flashes. Throughout the meeting
area, animal sounds and human voices are heard--having been
summoned by the practitioner. Future happenings might be
foretold, missing persons located, or diagnosis and cure of a

given person's illness might be offered. On occasion,

77

however, non-benevolent purposes, or hmunga (“to cause

sickness”), might also be the thrust of particular yuwipi

 

gatherings (although these occasions are rare). At the

conclusion of the ceremony, the adept is seen freed of
fetters--re1ease attributed to the action of spirit helpers.‘

Hany Oglalas today regard the yuwipi man as

 

representative of the "old time" religion, vestiges of which
are present in the ceremony. However, oral history and
research point to non-Lakota origins of this shamanic cult
institution (Bogoras 1904, 164; Densmore 1970, 44; Powers
1982; Wallace 1964). Nonetheless, ”Yuwipi and Yuwipi-like
rituals continue a tradition whose roots lie in the nebulous
past" (Powers 1982, 8). Practitioners today might be called
by the umbrella term "medicine man,“ or by the more precise

'Yuwipi.“

Lucy's understanding of her father's early involvement

with these older traditions is as follows:

“Before being converted into the Church, and
before he became a catechist, my father was a
medicine man. I wasn't born at that time and he
didn't talk about it very much. I remember he told
us that he and his partner, Kills Enemy, were
heyokas, or clowns. This clowning was actually done
by him and his friend as a trial stage for them. To
live the life of a heyoka for one year was a promise
they had to fulfill. I they succeed in one year,
then I believe they could become medicine men.

”John Neihardt called Kills Enemy 'One Side' in
that book, but he really wasn't called that until he

*The great magician, Harry Houdini, is said to have observed a
ceremony similar to yuwipi. He regarded the shaman's skill as
considerable and eva ua e the scenario as an interplay of
ventriliquism, sleight of hand, and the people's
predisposition to believe.

78

was an old man. He got that name because he used to wear a
hat all the time, and it always sat crooked on his head.
Before that, he was always Kills Enemy to us.
'As I said, he didn't talk about his medicine practice
very much. However, he did say 'I was kind of good at it.' I
almost believed him sometimes. Once I asked him 'Father, do
you believe in this uwipi?' And he said 'Noi That's all
nonsense-~just like the magicians you have in the White
people. It's just like that. Praying with the pipe is more
of a main thing. If a man prays with the pipe, why people
would kind of pray along with him. But this other one,
uwi 1, it's just like a magician trying to fool. I know
Eecause I've done it myself.‘

'One of my father's medicines could be found by standing
out on a hill in the darkest night. He used it for curing
tuberculosis. When there's no moon you can see it. That
medicine just glows. The yuwipi man uses this same medicine
in his ceremony.

'Once he was fooling around with his friend I mentioned
earlier, Kills Enemy, and they were going to shoot an owl that
was above their camp. That owl was just bothering them during
the night, so they got a fire going and started loading up.
They filled cartridges themselves at that time.

”Just then, they were so close that a man said 'You guys!

Don't get close to that fire. It's going to explode for
sure!‘ Just then, when he said that, one of the sparks hit
the powder and everything shot up in his face. So that's
where he almost lost his sight, and he's been partially blind
ever since.

'I got that information from Joe Kills Enemy. He was old
enough to hear when his father and my father visited and
talked about what they did in their early lives. He's way
older than I.

”I always thought he got his blindness while he was a
heyoka with Kills Enemy. What I thought was that my father
sugges ed they put a loaded shell in the ground, smash it, and
see how far it goes down in the ground. Instead, it exploded
up in his face. He did a lot of things like that.

”In his early years, my father had been a warrior. He
was in the Custer fight and he was in this massacre /Lucy
pointed down the road toward Wounded Knee/. Hy father said
that when all those soldiers got killed at Little Big Horn, he
and a bunch of boys his age would go around and pick

**The Sixth Grandfather, p. 235, has Black Elk saying 'Kills
the Enemy" was named One Side because of "his hair-being cut
on one side,” a name that came to him during the farmer's
vision. Avoiding ”Kills the Enemy" as a name fit for his
book, Neihardt might have judged its avoidance for reasons
similar to that of 'Leggins Down.” And too, DeHallie notes
that Neihardt minimized "the imagery of warfare and killing”
in his text (1984, 53).

79

pockets of the dead. He said some of them found
money but they didn't know what it was.

"About WOunded Knee he always said 'I was there
to witness after it was over. I saw all those women
and children and old people. The soldiers shot at
them with their guns, and they all just laid there
in the big draw. Something awful! They had no
weapons--and those children massacred like that.‘
Hy father carried wounded persons—-women and
children--over the hill to safety. They claim he
said 'Today is a good day to diei' But. he never
actually said that. It was Crazy Horse who hollered
those words. Hy father was young then, so he wasn't
the one.”

Black Elk's comment on the yuwipi practice is not shared

 

by all Lakota people. As in any profession, some charlatanry
probably did (and does) exist. However, contemporary
practitioners do have a sincere following, and their regard
for the tradition is high. Although individuals such as Lucy

might locate the yuwipi practitioner's special medicine and

 

use it for other purposes, it is still regarded as the
substance out of which "spirits" take their form.

Black Elk's actual blinding is another biographical point
that might never be fully ascertained. Aside from the two
above accounts, another exists which tells of Black Elk's
divining for water. Having placed gunpowder beneath a hole
filled with water, Black Elk announced he would make water
issue forth from the ground. Touching a spark to the fuse, he
remained too close to the eruption and his face was peppered
with water, dirt, and gunpowder. I was told this story by a
Handerson resident who raised the topic himself. When I
informed him of the stories I had been told regarding the
incident, he doubted their reliability. Joseph Epes Brown

80

used to relate yet a different account.

Regarding the war-cry "today is a good day to die,” most
presume the now-popular statement refers to patriotic
sentiment. That is, warriors should always be willing to die
while proudly defending their families and home territory.
Indeed, such was probably at the heart of the phrase when
skirmishing the cavalry. An interpretation offered by an
Ottawa woman, however, carried a different meaning:*

"We Indians have an expression 'today is a good

day to die.’ It means that we should be ready to

die on any given day. We should always be prepared

to die, and have no regrets. That's why it's

important to begin each day fresh, and not let past

problems or present distractions cloud how God wants

us to live.“ ‘

Her comment is illuminating in that it shows how Black
Elk material has been expropriated by other ”tribal
people"--to the extent that even a war-cry be a source of
reflection.** Whereas social activists have raised the cry as

an ultimatum, the Ottawa woman gave a more religious

interpretation. Who knows how the cultefilm Billy Jack

 

intended the phrase to be understood? At one point in the
film, the lead solemnly announced that "today is as good as
any to diei'--the Black Elk material once again

authoritatively quoted, albeit erroneously, to sanction what

Hollywood perceived as authentic Indian ideology.

*This was a personal communication that arose unsolicited.

**See also Del Barton's novel A Good Day to Die, Doubleday &
Co., Inc., N.Y., 1980.

81

With the above kinds of qualifications arising from what
Lucy reported, I asked Lucy to recommend someone else who
might be able to recall earlier times. It was then that she
encouraged me to visit an old friend of Black Elk's. The
suggestion was one which, later on, I greatly valued. She
said:

"Hr. John Lone Goose was one of the first to

join the Church. He later became an organist and

worked with my father. He is still living and is in

the nursing home at Rushville, Nebraska. If you

visit him, he will speak about those times."

I was glad to hear that such a person was still alive.
Fearful, though, that I not press my luck any further, I
arranged a visit as soon as I could.

We.

The journey from Pine Ridge to Rushville is a little over
twenty miles, and the drive is a scenic one through rolling
Nebraska hills which undulate with dark, green,
conifer-splashes. Along the winding highway, mule-deer
frequently fall prey to startled automobiles. Billboards,
restaurants, and residential areas replace this buffer-zone,
and within the new vista lies ”Parkview Nursing Home'--a small
facility appended to the town hospital.

John Lone Goose had been paralyzed from the waist
down--the result of a car accident seven years earlier. Due
to his great size, John needed attention which only an

institution such as the nursing home could provide. Apart

82

from the paralysis, his health was excellent. And so, John
calmly accepted his handicap with serenity, and said that
prayer enabled him to carry on without being bitter.

Visiting Black Elk's co-worker stirred sadness within me,
and my ”observer bias" amounted to feeling a great deal of
sympathy for the old man. With John, I learned the valuable
lesson that one can objectively scrutinize what a person says
and at the same time develop a felt-friendship. In fact, the
investigator's ”data" become ever more real and palpable in
such a relationship--shared both cognitively and emotionally.
With Lucy, for example I actually felt a kind of kinship when,
over time, she addressed me as "takoja" (”grandchild“).
Similarly, with John, calling him ”grandfather“ seemed very
natural after but a short time of visiting.

John's immediate family was all deceased, and more
distant relatives rarely took the opportunity to visit him.
So too, residents of the home were predominantly non-Indian,
and his beloved reservation was far away. This wise elder
spoke softly and with openness. He generated warmth, and it
was apparent from what we discussed that John was quite
prepared to pass on.

After introducing myself, I offered John a cigarette (a
modern gesture of friendship no doubt rooted in the older
tradition of extending a pipe). During this leisurely visit,
we eventually came around to talking about times past. In the
course of our conversation, John painfully recounted the

following indignity he suffered when placed first in a Hay

83

Springs, Nebraska nursing home:

"I had braids that long /pointing to his waist/.

They cut them. I don't know why they do it. Want

me to cut my hair--that's why they do it. But I

never asked what they did with my hair. The long

braids! Those long braids. It wasn't quite like

mine now. They were all black--coal black. But I

don't know what they did with it.'

I was aware of John's former appearance because of what people
had told me, and since one of the Jesuits referred to him in
an unpublished manuscript from the 1930's as "the Giant Indian
with long hair!” (Sialm, 86).

Whereas braid-wearing is today common, and generally
reflects the cultural-resurgence trend, John was from a time
when braids were still part of the living tradition. He was,
literally, the last of a kind who could speak from the summit
of many years. His was an authoritative perspective because
of a longstanding familiarity with persons, places, and
events.

John's opening remarks include reference to the Rosebud
Reservation-~a large territory allocated to the Brulé division
of Lakota (Hyde 1961; Grobsmith 1981). Smaller in size than
Pine Ridge (its western neighbor), this land was the site of
activity which closely parallelled Oglala history (Hyde 1937).
In fact, relatives of any given family might be spread
throughout the two reservations. Jesuits, government
personnel, and Lakota regularly commuted between the two

regions (and still do).

Spotted Tail, a famous Brulé’ leader, requested Jesuit

84

presence on the Rosebud, and in 1886 they established the St.
Francis Hission. Since that time, it has served as a school
and religious center much like Pine Ridge's Holy Rosary
Hission which was founded in 1888 at the request of Red Cloud
(Olson, 1965).

In his account, John reports being baptized by Father
Digmann--one of the region's early, well-known,psrsonalities.
Born in 1846 in Eichsfeld, Germany, Digmann came to the United
States as a priest in 1880. At the insightful request of his
superiors, Father Digmann organized diary notes into a
readable commentary on his life as a missionary among the
Lakota from 1886 until 1930 (he died in 1931). Available to
researchers through Harquette University's ”Archives of
Catholic Indian Hissions,” this unpublished document contains
sketches of early reservation life which are almost sensate.*
Future commentaries on late-nineteenth/early twentieth century
Lakota experience must here-after take into account the
priest's unique ethnohistorical contribution.

John provided a page never entered in Digmann's diary.
Perhaps it was not worth including from the Jesuit's
perspective, as it was just part of an ordinary routine. For
John, however, the event meant everything. His parents told
him about it, but John spoke of the incident as if he were a

credible witness of the proceedings:

 

*These archives will hereafter be noted as "HACIM." They contain the
diaries cited and "Sialm" citations.

85

”On April 17, 1888, my father and mother went
to Sunday Hass in the morning at St. Francis
Hission. I was in my mother's womb at the time.
While the Father was saying Hess, and while they
were sitting there waiting to get their Holy
Communion, my mother fell sick and said: 'I'm going
to go out for a little while. I'm going to be right
back.‘ So she went outside the church, spread her
shawl, and sat down. Right there--outside the
Catholic chapel at St. Francis-—I was born.

”Since my mother didn't come back into the
church, my father came out to see where she was. He
found me and my mother laying there, so he went to
tell the Hother Superior about it. Pretty soon, all
the Sisters came out and took me up in the Sister's
room, washed me, cut my cord, and dressed me up.
They washed my mother too. At about 11 o'clock I
was baptized by Father Digmann. I was the youngest
one in the family--and there were fourteen of us.
Now, I'm the last one still living. All my aunts
and uncles, all my brothers and sisters, they all
died. I'm the only Lone Goose left. There are no
more by that name.”

Here was Lone Goose before me--a one-time infant,
christened "John“ by Father Digmann.* Here was the
long-haired helper of Black Elk whose great size occasioned
many laughing-memories--like the time he and Black Elk were
burying a fellow Catholic. Ever so involved with the cemetery
ritual, big John Lone Goose, moving backwards, lost his
footing and preceded the casket into its grave. His body
wedged tightly in the ground, John required the assistance of
many mourners to gain release. Their tears were temporarily
turned to laughter through the slapstick-like misfortune of
their kind-hearted brother.

*According to Holy Rosary Hission's baptismal records, the

famous Chief Red Cloud was christened "Peter" since he was,
like the Apostle Peter, first in rank among his people.

86

Before me now was the aged John Lone Goose-—a gentle man
who did not share the fame of his celebrated colleague, and
whose earthly existence would soon be over. His manner
elicited a reverence, or admiration, I found easy to bestow.
Deferring to the prominent Black Elk, however, John continued
to report what he considered pertinent to my inquiry:

'I first met Nick around 1900--when I was a
young boy and he was not a Catholic. I don't know
what they call him in English, but in Indian they
call him 'yuwipi' man. Sam Kills Brave, he's a
Catholic, lived close to him. And before Nick
converted, Kills Brave would say, 'Why don't you
give up your ygwipi and join the Catholic Church?

You may think it's best, but the way I look at it,

it isn't right for you to do that ygwipi,’ Kills

Brave kept talking to him that way and I guess Nick

got those words in his mind. He said that after

Kills Brave spoke to him, he wanted to change.

Corroborating John's testimony, Lucy fleshed out for me
the actual incident which changed her father's life. A key
figure in this episode (and for many years after) was the
Jesuit priest, Joseph Lindebner. Born at Hainz, Germany in
1845, he came to Pine Ridge in 1887 and worked there until his
death on October 4, 1922. The priest's small stature inspired
Black Elk to affectionately call him ”Ate Ptecela" or “short
Father”--a phrase Lucy used interchangeably with the more
formal “Father Lindebner.” "Blackrobe" or "Sina Sapa' was the
traditional Lakota reference to Catholic priests who in almost
all circumstances wore black soutanes, or cassocks.

Episcopalian clergy were called "white gowns,” and

Presbyterians were known as “short coats."

87

BLACK ELK'S CONVERSION EXPERIENCE

When Lucy narrated the following pivotal experience of

her father's life, family members listened intently.

It was

as if all had heard it before, perhaps many times, and that it

was indeed worth hearing again.

'Sam Kills Brave, Louis Shields, and my father

organized this Handerson Community. Like we
there is the 'White Horse' community, 'White

say
Bear'

community, 'Crazy Horse' community, and others.*
These men organized so they could help each other
farm and carry on other business. Kills Brave was
the main one, the leader or chief. That's the way
it was in olden times. Kills Brave was already a

Catholic, and he used to tell my father to make

his mind about his religious practice.

“P

“That's when in 1904 my father was called to
doctor a little boy in Payabya--seven miles north of
Holy Rosary Hission. The boy's family wanted my
father to doctor their son because they heard he was

good at it. So, my father walked over

there

carrying his medicine and everything he needed for

the ceremony. At that time, they walked those
trails if they didn't have a horse.

long

"When he got there, he found the sick boy lying
in a tent. So right away, he prepared to doctor
him. Hy father took his shirt off, put tobacco
offerings in the sacred place, and started pounding
on his drum. He called on the spirits to heal the

boy in a very strong action. Dogs were there,

and

they were barking. Hy father was really singing

away, beating his drum, and using his rattle

when

along came one of the Blackrobes--Father Lindebner,
Ate Ptecela. At that time, the priests usually

travelled by team and buggy throughout

the
reservation. That's what Age Ptecela was driving.

'80 he went into the tent and saw what my
father was doing. Father Lindebner had already

baptized the boy and had come to give him the
rites. Anyway, he took whatever my father

last
had

prepared on the ground and threw it all into the
stove. He took the drum and rattle and threw them
outside the tent. Then he took my father by the
neck and said, 'Satan, get out!‘ Hy father had been

*Forty-one band-derived communities were located on the Pine

Ridge Reservation in 1935.

88

in the hundred-and-one show and knew a little
English so he walked out. Ate Ptecela then
administered the boy communion and the IasE rites.
He also cleaned up the tent and prayed with the boy.

”After he was through, he came out and saw my
father sitting there looking downhearted and
lonely--as though he lost all his powers. Next
thing Father Lindebner said was 'Come on and get in
the buggy with me.’ Hy father was willing to go
along, so he got in and the two of them went back to
Holy Rosary Hission.

”Ate Ptecela told the Jesuit Brothers to clean
him up, gIve EIm some clothes--underwear, shirt,
suit, tie, shoes--and a hat to wear. After that had
been done, they fed him and gave him a bed to sleep
in. Hy father never talked about that incident, but
he felt it was Our Lord that appointed or selected
him to do the work of the Blackrobes. He wasn't
bitter at all.

”He stayed at Holy Rosary two weeks preparing
for baptism, and at the end of those two weeks he
wanted to be baptized. He gladly accepted the faith
on December 6, 1904 which was the feast day of Saint
Nicholas. So they called him Nicholas Black Elk.
After he became a convert and started working for
the missionaries, he put all his medicine practice
away. He never took it up again.

“Hy father said that what he was doing before
he met Ate Ptecela was the work of the Great Spirit,
but that he suffered alot doing it. As a matter of
fact, he had ulcers and had to be treated for them
shortly after he started his missionary work. The
Jesuits sent him to a hospital in Omaha and he was
on a diet for two or three months until the ulcers
cleared up. When he converted, knowing about Christ
was very important to him, and receiving communion
was what he really held sacred.

“People who used to be treated by him when he
was a medicine man started coming to him. They
asked him about the new religion he belonged to and
he explained to them what it meant. Hany followed
his example and he instructed them in the new
faith.”

I repeatedly inquired of Lucy why her father did not
resist Lindebner's intrusion upon the ceremony. Was he angry?

Did he resent the priest's behavior? Did he experience a

kind of religious coup de grace, and simply capitulate to an

oppressor?

89

The scene sketched by Lucy seemed to confirm the abrasive
caricature of “missionary versus Indian.” Taken at its face
value, Black Elk's story would seem to ratify books like The
Arrow and The Cross which portray Christianity as a monolithic
religious movement that was ruinous for any Indian born after
1492 (Terrel, 1979). Far from being something positive, the
holy-man's conversion seemed more of a deathblow to his
really-human spirit.

Trying to be Christian myself, I was not inspired when I
heard of Black Elk's experience. I was struck by what
appeared to be the priest's gross insensitivity. Here was an
example of religious imperialism, or Christianity's equivalent
of Islam's jihad--a holy war waged against an infidel.

I was perplexed by Lucy's reaction to the content of her
narration--as she regarded her father's conversion-story as
rather amusing, and wholeheartedly embraced its effect on his
life. Lucy, in fact, had difficulty understanding why I did
not laugh at the incident. Here was a humorous story, she
thought, and I had listened wearing a face filled with
discouragement.

I explained to Lucy why I found it difficult to laugh
along with everyone, so she hastened to put me at ease.
Apparently, the factors most important to Black Elk on this
occasion were (1) a holy-man was present, (2) the holy-man's
powers were known to be very strong, (3) resistance to such
power was unthinkable, (4) Black Elk regarded his power as

negligible by comparison, and (5) he was predisposed to

9O

changing his religious practice. That the priest was of
another culture, that he was a white man, that he was
seemingly so indiscreet, pushy, or insensitive--these and
similar considerations Black Elk never entertained. What
mattered was Wakan.ggg§§:-whose action was apparent and could
not be challenged.

According to Lucy, her father had “suffered a lot' while
practicing as a medicine man, and experienced quite a bit of
inner turmoil. This, along with Kills Brave's entreaty and a
persistent stomach disorder, reinforced Black Elk's desire to
seek some kind of relief. He knew that something was not
right in his life, and the symptoms were, minimally, social,
physical, and psychological. After his visit to the hospital
(during which time he received the Catholic sacrament of the
sick), Black Elk undertook the work of a catechist and his
ulcers were never again bothersome. Lucy said that her father
felt "the son of God had called him to lead a new life.“ The
Christian ”Lord" who Black Elk heard spoken of during Ghost
Dance times as 'Wanikiye" had ”selected him" to do His work.

I later solicited reactions to Black Elk's conversion
story and, according to the prevailing opinion, neither
Lindebner's nor Black Elk's disposition seem to have permitted
such an encounter. Although no one claimed to speak with
certitude, it was felt that medicine men of Black Elk's
stature did not allow themselves to be “pushed around” in that
fashion, while the priest had a reputation for being very kind

and gentle--hardly the ruffian portrayed. However, that

91

something “out of the ordinary“ occurred on this occasion was
agreed upon. And yet, the exact details of that ”something”

were quite difficult to ascertain.

The Digmann diary put as much closure on the facts of
Black Elk's conversion as might ever be expected. An incident
reported by the priest for July 23, 1887 is markedly similar
to what Lucy recounted, and it seemed as if the names had

simply been changed. Hence, an appraisal of this curious

puzzle was warranted.

Digmann and Lindebner knew one another well, and their
work on both reservations was similar in scope. Allowing for
idiosyncratic similarities and differences, Digmann's
experiences (and reflections on them) probably parallel those
of Ate Ptecela. He wrote about his first experience with a

Lakota medicine man the following way (8-9):

'A pagan Indian (Katola) called for a priest to
baptize his dying child. I went with him on
horseback to his camp, about three miles from the
Hission. One of our school girls, already baptized
had dressed the one-year old boy nicely and put a
small crucifix on his breast. He was asleep. After
we had said the Our Father, the Apostle's Creed, I
baptized the child 'Inigo.' For a couple of days he
had taken no nourishment, as the mother had no milk.
A boy went with me to the Hission to get milk and
medicine. Hother Kostka, who was a good nurse, and
had knowledge of medicines wished first to see and
examine the sick child. We went on foot under the
parching heat of the sun to the Indian camp, the
white veil of the Sister was soaked with
perspiration. A short distance before the log
cottage, Grace Anayela met us saying: 'The medicine
man is conjuring the sick child, I do not want to be
present.‘ Arriving at the door we heard their
singing, beating the drum, and 'without any
compliments I opened!' What a spectacle! In a
corner of the room, the father was sitting with the
naked child in his arms. Along the wall four

92

conjurors were crouching, with their faces painted
red and yellow. One of them had returned from an
Eastern school, understood English fairly well and
spoke it tolerably. Him I addressed first:
'George, you here?' He had asked me already before
to baptize him. Then I continued in Sioux the best
I could at the time, 'Give up your devil's. work.
The child is baptized and belongs to the Great
Spirit.‘ George said: 'Do you want that one of us
shall die?' 'You will not die, get out of here.'
They, however, continued their pow-wow, singing and
ringing pumpkin shells. On my repeated begging they
finally kept quiet. Hother Kostka examined the
little patient and wanted to make hot poultices.
The conjurors had spread out on the dirt floor of
the loghouse their medicine bags. There were also
bowls with water, and a pan with burning coals. To
gain room, I removed without any compliments the
deerskin bags, gave the water to the Sister and put
the coals in the stove to start a fire. Horrified
they looked at me, thinking perhaps that the Evil
One would hurt me. George flung the satchel of the
Sister out of the open door. The scared mother took
the sick baby outside, the Sister followed. George,
angry, grasped my arm to put me out but I stood the
ground. In the presence of them I told the father
of the child, not to allow them to continue their
conjuration, and not to let their leader take the
child to his house. They promised. The firmness
semmed to make an impression. George became cool.
He said he did not believe himself in this pow-wow
but there was money in it. They make the parents
pay in ponies, blankets or other valuables, while at
the Hission and at the Agency they would get
medicine gratis (free). Hy experience in this first
encounter with them was a good lesson, teaching
'1st, that they themselves do not believe in their
charlatanry, 2nd, that they are cowards (owing to
their own bad conscience like all wrongdoers) and
3rd, that the 'money' is at the bottom of their
superstitious practices'.'

A similar situation is reported for April 6, 1907,

wherein Father Lindebner himself is mentioned. Digmann wrote:

'Osmund Iron Tail called me out of Catechism
class saying: 'Jim Low Cedar would die today.’ He
was going to the agency to get a coffin. James was
a boy of ten years, had been at the Hission over two
years but owing to a slow fever was allowed to go
home. We told his mother who had been baptized not

93

long ago: 'Call the physician and give his
medicines. If you know of any good Indian medicine,
you may also give it but do not allow any
conjuration, sacred songs, etc. of the medicine man.
Iron Tail told me that she had first done so but
seeing that the Whiteman's medicine man. Now,
Father Lindebner had visited the sick boy and
administered to him Extreme Unction, but could not
give him yet the Holy Viaticum. When then the
medicine man came making arrangements for his
pow-wow, little Jim peremptorily refused it saying:
'The Little Father (Lindebner) has anointed me; I
don't want to be conjured, I want to go to heaven.‘
When Iron Tail reported this, I said within myself:

'Jim, you deserve also Holy Communion.' arriving
there I found him fully conscious and glad to
receive the Blessed Sacrament. After a short

preparation and prayers he received his Lord for the
first and last time with visible devotion. .Three
hours later he took his flight, to see Him in
heaven.“

That Lindebner encounter Black Elk under the circumstances he

did is, then, not surprising. According to Digmann (8):

'. . . the sickbed is the field, where the physician
(medicine man) and priest (missionary) often meet.
We had a special eye on the sick, not to let them go
without baptism. Several of these died soon after
baptism, and the opinion was spread by the medicine
men that pouring on of water had killed them.“

Such scenarios were commonplace, it seems, as the Lindebner

obituary illustrates (1.8., 1923, 84-6):*

”On one occasion, he broke through the ice while
crossing Little White River, and one of his horses
was drowned. Father Lindebner himself was almost
frozen to death, yet the same night he borrowed
another horse and made his way to a dying Indian.
Only three or four years ago, when over seventy
years of age, he made a sick-call trip of four
hundred and twenty miles in the face of a keen

*"I.S.” is the abbreviation for the Indian Sentinel ”The
Official Organ of the Catholic Indian HIssIons,a published out
of Washington, D.C., and now out of print. It is in the
Harquette Archives.

94

blizzard that brought the thermometer well below

zero . . . three years ago, the writer was returning

from a trip with the holy old priest, when on

nearing the mission we were informed of a dying man

some miles back on the road. We returned forthwith

to the Indian's cabin and found the patient lying on

blankets and pillows on the ground outside his

house. After Father Lindebner had done what he
could for the poor fellow, the latter begged us to

sing some Indian hymns for his consolatiOn and

encouragement . . . for an hour we sang all the

hymns we knew and some, I fear, we didn't know. The
result was more noisy than harmonious. But it
seemed to please the sick man and certainly edified

at least one of those present.“

Lucy had neither expropriated the Digmann material, nor
had she drawn her inspiration from some Hollywood stereotype
of Christian missionaries. Rather, she simply imparted to me
the tale told by her father. Perhaps Lindebner was indeed too
gentle a soul to match the conversion-story's persona, and
perhaps Black Elk would indeed never have tolerated anyone's
intrusion upon his religious ceremony. Perhaps what Digmann
reported in his diary was well-known, through conversation by
a number of people like, for example, Black Elk. And maybe
his otherwise undramatic conversion-story drew more listeners
when embellished with details from somewhere else.

Or could this be a special genre--an oral narrative
purveying a biographical truth gig incidents that never
actually happen quite as reported. Lucy, for example, could
relate the story and, with her family, appreciate its import.
Unfamiliar with this form of communication, I (a child of the
modern era) listen with chagrin, and miss the point intended.

I heard Lucy tell of her father's conversion on several

95

occasions, and she never failed to mention that “dogs were
there, and they were barking'--a statement which appears to be
straight-forward in its description of events. Hore is at
work, however, than Black Elk (or Lucy after him) simply
recounting a play-by-play account of what occurred. The
inclusion of “barking dogs" is a significant embellishment
that would lend additional force to the story among Lakota
listeners.

Hy own conversations with people confirm what William and
Harla Powers have written (1986, 7):

'Dogs are considered useful for protecting the

house from the incursions of strangers, as well as

for announcing the presence of friends. Anyone

living on the reservation soon becomes accustomed to

dogs barking all night long, and the reason for

their nocturnal howling is frequently discussed the

next morning, because dogs herald not only the
presence of humans but that of ghosts as well. In

Lakota . . . the expression sun wa a, 'dog barking,'

is a metaphor for any general commotion.‘
By saying that dogs were barking, Black Elk (or Lucy)
established a frame of reference for the conversion-event
similar to Western literature's ”it was a dark and stormy
night." Spirits were part of the story, and their presence
signalled that something extraordinary or mysterious was
unfolding. The dramatic effect of this narrative element
would be lost on a non-Lakota audience, so it is probable that
the tale falls within a traditional genre which authenticates
the experience itself--a conclusion consistent with the

speculation presented here.

Religion might particularly lend itself to this genre--a

96

precedent coming to mind which I thought seemed comparable to
what we had discussed concerning her father. Namely,
according to the biblical tradition, Judaism's Saul was
enroute to Damascus so as to persecute Christians when, all of
a sudden, he was knocked off his horse and blinded (through
Divine intervention)--eventually changing his name (to Paul)
and religious practice (to Christianity). Christian
fundamentalists tend to interpret Paul's experience literally
and assume that he had, in fact, been knocked off his horse
and then blinded--events which led, ultimately, to his
conversion. Other Christians, however, tend to look beyond
the extraordinary details of the account and simply conclude
that Paul was somehow profoundly changed (converted) on this
occasion. Knowing this Bible story, Lucy agreed that her
father's experience was like Paul's, i.e., being thrown out of
the tent was his equivalent to falling off a horse.

Black Elk's own presentation of the drama of Payabya,
whether whole or partial in its statement of concrete fact,
unambiguously signalled for him the decisive call from ‘22532
Tanka through a Wanikiye blackrobe. Such was the basic import
of the holy-man's experience, and his life after this event
constitutes the most solid testimony to such an understanding.
Such an understanding can embellish or delete whatever it was
that actually comprised the life-changing occurrence near a
dying child in 1904.

Upon request, I supplied Paul Steinmetz a rough draft of

my tape-transcripts, and Black Elk's conversion-story

97

subsequently appeared in his Pipe, Bible and Peygte Among the
Oglala Lakota (1980, 158-9). Whereas he proposed that the

experience resulted in an ”integration of the two religious
traditions on a deep emotional and even unconscious level,"
fellow anthropologist Raymond DeHallie asserts otherwise
(1984, 59). Citing Steinmetz as his source for the story, he
noted that Black Elk's conversion was "unquestionably genuine"
(1984, 14). However, DeHallie falsely concludes that the
acceptance of Catholicism placed him "beyond the onerous
obligations of his vision“ (1984, 15). Hence, a certain
opportunism is suggested here. As this study progresses, a
more curious and complex series of experiences will be shown
to unfold within the holy-man's life that beg a more expansive
interpretation which neither Steinmetz nor DeHallie propose.
An initial building block of re-interpretation can be
excavated from the classic ethnography of religious experience
by William James (1961). His work was one of the first to
address conversion as a phenomenon to study instead of an
experience to simply take for granted. His observations are

apropos of Black Elk's life (James, 160):

"To be converted, to be regenerated, to receive
grace, to experience religion, to gain an assurance,
are so many phrases which denote the process,
gradual or sudden, by which a self hitherto divided,
and consciously wrong, inferior and unhappy becomes
unified and consciously right superior and happy, in
consequence of its firmer hold upon religious
realities. This at least is what conversion
signified in general terms, whether or not we
believe that a direct divine operation is needed to
bring such a moral change about.“

98

As was the case with Black Elk, "religious aims form the
habitual centre“ of one's energy after such an experience
(James, 165). It is not surprising that questions surface in
regard to the facts of Black Elk's conversion-story.
According to James, "neither an outside observer nor the
Subject who undergoes the process can explain fully how
particular experiences are able to change one's centre of
energy so decisively” (James, 165). Being ineffable, such
experiences beg articulation through symbol or metaphor,
through poem or story, or whatever other mode of creative

expression lies within the ability of a person involved.

CHAPTER V
LAKOTA CATHOLIC SOCIAL ORGANIZATION: GROUPS AND OFFICES

The wellspring of Lakota Catholic involvement in the
early years of the reservation were two religious
organizations known as the St. Joseph and St. Hary Societies.
Since traditional, Plains cultures sought solidarity through
(among other things) non-kinship sodalities (Lowie 1948, 294),
these groups represent a rather clever adaptation by the early
missionaries. Where formerly men and women organized
themselves in warrior, curing, dancing, hunting, handicraft,
and other special-interest groups (see Chapter Two), and
whereas such groups began to disappear in the post-reservation
period, the St. Hary (for women) and St. Joseph (for men)
societies were received very favorably by the Lakota.

Louis J. Goll, S.J., one-time director of the Jesuit
community at Holy Rosary Hission, related this history of the
'okolakiciyapi" (societies) of St. Hary and St. Joseph (1940,
36):

'The Benedictine Fathers working among the Sioux
under Bishop Hartin Harty had long realized the
power which lay in the informal instructions given
by the Indian converts. To foster such
instructions, the Benedictines organized two
societies, one for men, under the patronage of St.
Joseph,the other for women, under the protection of
the Hother of God, and called them the St. Joseph
and St. Hary Societies.

"The Jesuit Fathers introduced these societies in
their missions. Accordingly, the Catholic Brules
and Oglalas would meet every Sunday whether or not a
priest had come to them for services. One man,
elected and approved for that purpose, led in a kind
of lay-service: hymns were sung and specified
prayers were recited. This finished, the president
99

100

("grandfather”) gave a well-thought-out address on

an article of the Creed, on the sacraments, or on

the Commandments of God. This done, he would

appoint two or four men as speakers on the same

subject. Such was the meeting of the St. Joseph

Society.

'The St. Hary Society also had its program. The

president ("grandmother") would address all present.

She, too, would appoint two or four speakers, there

being excellent speakers among these Indian women,

able enough to drive home a lesson for men and women

alike. Then the grandmother would give a resume and

hand back the presidency to the grandfather.

Hartin E. Harty* has proposed that Catholic missionaries
achieved successes among Native people because they ”held a

\

somewhat more tolerant attitude toward Indian ritual and
custom" and that "being celibate, were more mobile" than their
Protestant counterparts (1970, 9-10). Having already
commented upon the expansiveness of Lakota kinship, I would
further add that the religious nomenclature (i.e., "Father,"
”Sister,” "Brother') employed by the Catholics no doubt
sounded a positive note for Native listeners. Lucy mentioned
that her father not only called Lindebner ”little father," but
also “little brother," an affective term for the man with whom

he worked so closely.

Throughout the year, meetings were held and well
attended. Besides gathering for prayer and song, members
would discuss religious issues and plan parish activities.
After the first fifty-years, membership in the Societies
declined and the core participants became the elderly children

of Black Elk's generation. However, the ebb and flow of

*No relation to the Bishop mentioned above.

101

religious involvement in recent times has made the fluctuation
unpredictable. So too, other institutional expressions have
arisen; most notably, in Catholic circles, the "Tekakwitha
Conference”--a national organization named after the Hohawk
maiden whose piety was reported in the Jesuit Relations
(Kenton 1954, 293-95). '

Where Native 'deacons' today serve as clergy among the
people, the lifeblood for the Societies (and to the Catholic
population as a whole) in times past were catechists. One

observer described these special men the following way

(Duratschek, 206-7):

”These men, selected for their intelligence, good
character, and zeal, were the agents who carried out
whatever the missionaries proposed. They met
periodically with the priest who instructed them in
what they were to teach those natives whom the
missionary would not reach the next week or two. On
the Sundays, when Hass was not offered in their
districts, the catechists led the prayers and hymns
of the gathering, be it in a tepee, log house, or
chapel. After reading the Epistle and Gospel for
the day, they instructed the people. When necessity
arose, it was the catechists who baptized and who
buried the dead. They visited the sick and informed
the priest when anyone was in danger of death."

As will be seen, significantly more was involved with
this type of religious commitment. Lucy's memories ‘of her
father show a man who took this responsibility quite
seriously--so much so that for many years it was a way of life
the family-as-a-whole accepted as their own. As will be clear

in the following recollections, Black Elk was not an

exception, or was not alone, in his pursuit of a religious

102

vocation within the new order of twentieth century Plains
life.

Lucy recalled:

'I don't know why they did this, but even the
Episcopals chose the medicine men--like my father's
uncle over here. You'll probably hear about him
later on. Black Fox they call him.* He was a
medicine man--a great one. And here he got
converted to the Episcopal Church, became a
preacher, and even became a deacon before he died.

”A good number of the early catechists were
medicine men--like Paul and Joe Thin Elk. But they
quit and turned back to the old ways. One of them
told my father: 'Brother, I am turning back to the
old medicine." And my father answered: 'That's up
to you.‘ As I said earlier, after my father was
baptized he promised to do away with his early
practices. Since he was a catechist, he lived up to
it. He never gave up his prayer or what he was
taught.

'At the time, we had a three room loghouse with
one room for my grandma--who died in 1915. Hy
father raised horses and pigs while my mother had
chickens and a milk cow.** They plowed up the
ground and grew potatoes, corn, beans, and other
vegetables. Hy mother helped him with this and we
seemed to have enough food because my father built a
cellar in which they kept most of it. Although he
drew only ten dollars a month for his missionary
work, it seems we never went hungry.

”Right after his conversion, he went back and
was supposed to take care of the Handerson district.
He gathered all his friends, called a meeting, and
then asked his friends and relatives to help him
build a place--a little house in which to have Hass
when the Father comes. Somebody donated a horse to
them (a work horse) which they traded for logs.
They then built the first St. Agnes Church and
meeting house. It wasn't too big, but at least they

*I did hear about Black Fox later on from one elderly
Handerson resident who claimed Black Fox was gifted in (among
other things) telling the exact age of any stranger who asked
him for such information.

**A distant, aged relative of Black Elk's recalled that at one
time "Nick had fifty head of cattle." In fact, prior to the
first World War, Lakota cattle-raising was quite
successful--making the allotment of rations almost
unnecessary.

103

had something ready for the priest. And so that's
where my father started--right from that little log
house. He was the first catechist of St. Agnes
Chapel.

”Soon, before Christmas, my father and those
who had joined the Church organized the St. Joseph
and St. Hary Societies. They appointed leaders and
had a big Christmas party--giving presents to all
the older people, the real old ladies and real old
men. They called them by their names and gave them
presents individually.

“After the Jesuits baptized several in each
district, they pretty soon began to get men like my
father to be catechists. In every station they
appointed two or three catechists to work with them.
These laymen were trained to conduct services, read
scripture on Sundays, baptize if necessary, visit
the sick, and bury the dead. But most of all, they
were trained to teach the Catholic faith.

”There were catechists in all those little
communities like Grass Creek, Rocky Ford, White
River, and Pine Creek. I know Alec Two Two was the
catechist in Wounded Knee--which at that time was
called Brennan, South Dakota. William Cedar Face
and Kills Enemy were the catechists in Grass Creek
while Frank Gallego was down in Rocky Ford. Silas
Fills the Pipe took charge of the community out
there at Red Shirt Table while Joe Horn Cloud took
over at Potato Creek. John Fool Head was at Slim
Buttes. Hany others were also catechists at the
time of my father, like Red Willow, Jim Grass, Louis
Housseaux, Daniel Broken Leg, Willie Red Hair--and
Ivan Star Comes Out was at Our Lady of Good Counsel
on the other side of Oglala on that White River.
Hen were catechists from all the different
districts. And when it came along that my father
was called away to other reservations for missionary
work, Paul Catches took his place.

”Since my father was one of the first
catechists, the Blackrobes might come for him at any
time to go on a trip. So right away he had to
work--and he worked. They used to come for him very
often, and he was really willing to accept any kind
of trip they were supposed to make--even in the
coldest weather. He would go with Fr. Lindebner, or
Westropp, or Fr. Henry Alder and people would come
to them, attend mass, and even have their young ones
baptized. There would be converts and he would
teach them.“

The Catholic church in Handerson is today still named

104

"St. Agnes" and is now, unlike its cabin predecessor, a
larger, white, wooden structure looking like a typical
"country church” (see photo). The meeting-hall behind was
dedicated to Black Elk's memory (see photo). However, the
sign which commemorated this (and which reported his tenure
there as a catechist) was torn off the building not long after
1973's occupation of WOunded Knee, South Dakota by members of
the American Indian Hovement (A.I.H.). As of this writing,
the sign has not been replaced (Furlong, 1980).

Black Elk's friend, Paul Catches, had a son named ”Pete”
who also became a catechist. Now a practicing medicine man
(Zimmerly 1969, 46), Pete is no longer formally involved with
Church work--even though his ties with Jesuits are still
strong (see photo). The ceremony he conducts is not yuwipi
(as some local people charge), but rather that of the
'eagle'(wanbli) (performed largely for healing purposes).

Invited to one of Pete's meetings (or sings, lowanpi, as
such an occassion is also called), I understood why people had
confused it with yuwipi (Feraca, 1962). In the darkness of a
small cabin, with participants cross-legged on the floor, Pete
orchestrated an entrancing, prayerful, sensory experience
comprised of singing-sounds, and faces touched with light
brushes of eagle-feathers and water-droplets. He did not,
however, get tied-up (as reported for the yuwipi ceremony
earlier). Persons present uttered prayers of thanksgiving (or
need) in a room so pitch-black that the atmosphere was one of

disembodied voices. Pete has often been the guest of priests

105

and other interested parties at meetings which address
differences and similarities of Lakota and Christian religious
tradition (Stolzman, 1974).

A CATECHIST REMEMBERS

One of the present-day reservation elders is Ben
Harrowbone--a ninety-year old whose ties with the past are far
more intimate than those of most Pine Ridge residents. During
his active years, Ben worked as a catechist--a labor he
undertook when Black Elk was also still practicing missionary
work. Ben is from the generation of Lakota patriarchs whose
parents were nomadic Plains people, the children of whom
became twentieth century reservation dwellers. His
perspective is therefore a unique one.

Lucy thought he might be able to make an addition to her
own narrative, and so I visited Ben on several occasions. He
was very devout in his religious practice, and was one of the
leaders pressing Lakota claims for the Black Hills (to be
returned to his people). Ben frequently mixed Lakota with
English, his hand-gestures lending power to, what his words
communicated. Although his deafness and the hundred-degree
weather worked against us, Ben was most willing and open to
discuss those days long past. Just as in speaking of the
Black Hills to government officials, so he spoke of those
days--maybe hoping both would be returned, somehow, before his
death. 4

Ben Harrowbone:

I drove the team and we used to start from here

106

/Holy Rosary Hission is across the road from Ben's
cabinl. We'd go to Slim Buttes, Wanblee, Sand
Hills, Eagle Nest, and every district. It took
three or four weeks sometimes. I was tired when we
came home.

There'd be no meeting house or no church, so
we'd bring bedrolls. Brother used to bake a big
loaf of bread for us, and we'd take a box of
chicken, some potatoes, and sauerkraut too.* We
went to every house in a district and we stopped
before sundown. We would talk to each other. "You
want to stay there overnight?" ”Sure!” You see,
different people would want us to come in. Some
people had a bedstead, but sometimes the Father and
I would sleep on the floor. We'd spread our
bedrolls and sleep together.

One time we went to bed about 8 o'clock. It
was a cool night and we had a bedstead to sleep in.
Fr. Lindebner nudged me as we fell asleep and said:
'We aren't alone. Little animals are sleeping with
us.’ That bed was filled with little bugs.

In the morning, strong coffee would already be
cooked--and we'd have to drink it. And grease
bread, we'd eat it too. Father then offered mass at
that house and people nearby would come. , They'd
explain their confession--their sins before God.
Remember, everybody makes mistakes--so we tell
Almighty, and He forgives them. The people
understood this and they truly believed it.

John Lone Goose:

That book, Black Elk S eaks, just talks about
the olden way. But I remeiEer every detail of what
he did because I was with him--not every day--but
everytime the Father would come over, or when he
would teach somebody who wanted to be a Catholic. I
was there to help him.

The priests gave him instructions in the faith
and Nick said he wanted to teach God's word to the
people. So he kept on learning, learning, learning.
Pretty soon, he learned what the Bible meant, and
that it was good. He said: “I want to be a
catechist the rest of my life. I want it that way
from here on!"

So he went around as far as Norris, Kyle,
Potato Creek, Porcupine, and all those districts.
He'd go around preaching with Fr. Buechel, Fr.

*The early Jesuits of both Hissions were predominantly German
born--as reflected in this regular offering at table. Too,
Black Elk's receptivity of the German Jesuits may very well
have been aided by his familiarity with Germany itself, a
country he visited while in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show.

107

Lindebner, Fr. Perrig, Fr. Louis, Fr. Henry, and all
those old priests. Lots of people turned to the
Catholic Church through Nick's work.

He never talked about the old ways. All he
talked about was the Bible and Christ. I was with
him most of the time and I remember what he taught.
He taught the name of Christ to Indians who didn't
know it. The old people, the young people, the
mixed blood, even the white man--everybody that
comes to him, he teaches--from the Bible, from the
catechist book, from his heart.

He was a pretty good speaker, and I think Our
Lord gave him wisdom when he became a Christian.
For even though he was kind of blind, his mind was
not blind. And when he retired and was sick, he
still taught God's word to the people. He turned
Christian and took up catechist work. And he was
still on it until he died.

Lucy:

Sometimes he'd be in bed and somebody would
come saying there was a person dying who wanted to
receive the sacraments. And so, even at night he'd
go and pray for them. If they were already baptized
and had been receiving the sacraments, he would call
for the priest in the morning. Lots of times he
would have to ride to Holy Rosary Hission (thirteen
miles from our place) on horseback in order to get a
priest to come and administer the last rites to a
sick person.

During the times he was home, he'd go on sick
calls or have prayer services for other families.
When someone needed to be baptized, he would call
the priest. Or if there was a Hass, he would serve
it. On Sundays, when the priest couldn't make it
for Hass at a particular chapel, the catechists were
trained to read scriptures, put on a prayer service,
and make a sermon. Hy father did these things and
learned all the prayers by heart. And in lots of
cases, when the priest was not there, he
administered baptism.

The people really liked to sing with my father,
and Hr. John Lone Goose would play the organ--by
ear. Whenever they had Hass there, he was playing
for them. They right away caught on to the singing,
and they really liked to do Indian hymns.

Of course, my father never had any experience
in this kind of work before he was baptized, but
still--right away he understood what it meant. He
had poor eyesight but he learned to read scripture
and prayer-books written in the Indian language.

Pretty soon, I was so interested.

108

As a small girl I was trained in praying those
Lakota prayers and Lakota Indian hymns by my mother.
She taught me how to read in Indian too. She really
taught me a lot in praying and singing. I wanted to
receive Holy Communion so I really tried my best.
Well, my father and mother thought I was old enough
at the age of seven years.

Ever since I was six years old he trained me in
prayers--Indian prayers--and Indian Catholic hymns.
There's one song--the first song he ever taught me
was this song here. I'll sing it right now.

Wakantanka lila waste 0 God most good

Slolyeic'iya cin ce; Who wants to make himself known,
Oyas tanyan iyuskin po, All rejoice rightly,

Nicantepi nicila. He asks of you your hearts.
Lakota oniyatepi, You Lakota are a nation,

Koyan ekta up ye; Quickly may they come together;
Jesus niyuhapi kta ce Jesus would have it so,

Heon oyas nicopi. Because he has called you all.

Hy father liked it. I guess that's why I like it.

They told me that I was baptized the same day I was
born. I was born a Catholic the same day I was born a
Christian. And my father raised me a Christian-Catholic.
That's the only thing I was taught by him.

I made my Confirmation in Rapid City at the Immaculate
Conception Cathedral. Of all my father's children, there
was Ben, my younger brother Nick Jr., and myself--he had us
really trained in the Catholic Church. We had to do what he
asked and we had to attend Hass every Sunday.

Today I have a great devotion to the Sacred Heart, I
myself. One time my younger brother Nick had a hemorrhage.
He was bleeding from the nose. He was dying. I didn't know
what to do so I knelt down. Hy father and mother were
broken up--saddened--so I knelt down with them. We prayed
the rosary and the Sacred Heart prayer.

While he was laying there, my brother -said: 'I want
some prayers said to St. Theresa.’ I don't know why he said
that, so I said a prayer to the Little Flower of Jesus.
Afterwards, when he got well, he told me he saw that Little
Flower--that Theresa. He said: 'I know it was her.‘

Bible passages and hymns were translated into Lakota by

early missionaries and Lucy's reference is to such a

collection. Stephen R. Riggs of the Congregational Church was

a missionary of forty-two years among the Lakota who compiled

a text of the Bible, hymns, and other literature in the Lakota

109

dialect prior to his death in 1882. Further linguistic work
was done by Franz Boas and Ella Deloria, but before these
labors were undertaken Lakota had been an unwritten language.
The Papal letter of Hay 15, 1956, ”Haurietis Aquas'
encouraged Catholics to maintain the traditional devotion to
the "Sacred Heart of Jesus,“ and Lucy had been trained from
early childhood to recite certain prayers associated with this
symbol of Christian love. Therese Hartin (1873-97), known to
Catholics as ”the Little Flower of Jesus,” was a Carmelite nun
recognized by the Church as a Saint in 1925. Devotion to her

was particularly strong in Catholic circles during the time
Nick Jr. was ill.

CHAPTER 6
THE ACTIVITIES AND FAMILY-LIFE_OF BLACK ELK, THE CATECHIST

The major event each year planned by the Societies was
the "Catholic Sioux Congress." This three-day gathering of
"Catholic Sioux” from all the reservations first started in
1891 at the Standing Rock Reservation (on the border of North
and South Dakota), and has occurred every year since then (at
different locations selected by the membership).

Usually held around the fourth of July, this religious
convention was instituted by the missionaries for several
reasons. In earlier times, the tribe as a whole gathered
yearly to celebrate its unity against the backdrop of the Sun
Dance. With this religious ceremony being outlawed by the
government in 1881, an important fixture of Lakota society had
been wrenched from its place. A kind of community beacon was
extinguished.

Building on this older religious tradition, missionaries
organized the summer Congress as an opportunity for new Church
members to see and support one another in their faith (6011,
39-43). Horeover, it was felt that an event so specifically
tailored to Native interests would be a more suitable
celebration for a people to whom Independence Day had little
or no meaning. Generally, the agent would distribute thirty
head of cattle to the tribe for purposes of celebrating the
national holiday. And when Congresses first started, the
Catholic population requested that these cattle be given to

t 0
he Societies 110

111

Before the use of cars became widespread, caravans of
wagons could be seen taking Society members and their families
to the assigned rendezvous, and each family making the trip
carried its own camping equipment. Shortly after arriving, as
many tents as wagons dotted the hills of the Congress
site--Oglalas from Pine Ridge in one section, Brules from
Rosebud in another, and so on.

Three days of praying, singing, receiving sacraments,
exhorting, and friendly visiting would ensue. Although well
over three-thousand Lakota participated in this event fifty
years ago, attendance has steadily decreased. As recently as
twenty years ago, a thousand representatives were present, but
this number dropped to a few hundred just a decade later.
Even so, those who still attend the event carry an eager
anticipation long months before it occurs. A good time is

going to be had!*

For sometime, Society members have lamented the dwindling
score of Congress participants. In fact, such concern has
been evident since the 1940's, and some attempt has been made
to update the event's proceedings. In that Lucy's generation
represents the mainstay of the Societies, younger members
stress the need to focus more religious activities around
*DeHallie states that Black Elk missed the annual Congress in
1931 because it coincided with the last two days of Neihardt's
visit--the senior catechist's absence from the event “no doubt
conspicuous" (1984, 46). With the rest of his family at the
Congress, Black Elk probably attended the final day once Ben
bid farewell to the Neihardts (1984, 48). Whether this

occurred or not, one's absence on such occasions was not out
of the ordinary.

112

Lakota youths. But such reforms as the speaking of English
rather than the traditional Lakota, or initiating a youth

Congress, have been voted down over and over again.

Black Elk's involvement with this unique institution was
considerable. Being a catechist, his duties included
organizational details, preaching, and instructing new
converts. Due to Black Elk's ever active participation in
Society work and Congresses, Lucy's religious education as a
Catholic maintained a powerful grip on her life--the
traditionalism of which reflects tenets her father apparently

cherished and made his own, as her following memories suggest:

”We'd go along with him to the Congress and the
Catholic general meetings, and all the catechists
would show up. On all kinds of Catholic
holidays--Easter, Decoration Day, Christmas, New
Year's--the catechists would get together at their
parish chapels and have services. And on these
occasions I often heard my father instruct the
people about scripture.

”He related scripture passages to things around
him and he used examples from nature--making
comparison of things in the Bible with flowers,
animals, and even trees. And when he talked to us
about things in creation, he brought up stories in
the Bible. That's why he was a pretty strong
Catholic--by reading the Bible.

”On one occasion, my father and the old
faithful catechist Fills The Pipe were attending a
meeting and were camped side by side. Fills The
Pipe had a crippled wife who could hardly do
anything. So one night, my father was coming back
to his camp when he heard someone hollering.

”A lady was hollering so my father went down to
see what happened. Anyway, this Fills The Pipe had
been hauling water from the creek and he fell just
as he came up with the buckets. So, he had gone
back and got another two buckets full of water.
Again, he slipped and fell.

"The third time, his lady just couldn't take it
so she sat down and started hollering. That's when
my father went down to help this poor old man carry
his water. That's the way these catechists ran into

113

hardships with their families. .

"The Jesuits also took my father to other
different tribes--even though he couldn't understand
their languages. He instructed Arapahoes,
Winnebagoes, Omahas, and others--teaching them the
Catholic faith with the help of an interpreter. At
that time, these tribes were going for Peyote and
had been influenced by their neighboring tribes.
But he converted a lot of these people.

"Sometimes I would have to sing in front of the
Catholic gatherings. I had always been with him--I,
and my mother, and also my younger brother--and he
would say to me 'Never be ashamed to pray or sing,
because if it's for God--praising Him and praying to
Him--you'll be rewarded by His blessings in the
future.'

”So I learned a lot through him--and
understanding. If it wasn't for him, I don't know
what I would have done. Through his teaching and
training me, I stood strong in my faith. There's
something about this Christian life never falling.
If anything went wrong with my children, if he
prayed, I knew everything would be alright. He had
a way, since he said he loved little children.

”Even though he ended up with a lot of
sufferings and trials he still went strong--even
when two of his children died and he had two caskets
in the church.* He stood by, still preaching
because he was loved by everybody.

"One thing he always hoped and prayed for in
those days was that a Sioux boy would become a
priest and a Sioux girl would become a nun. And I
think he was rewarded because I've known a girl from
our district who'became a Sister. And from the
reservation, there are several of them.

”He sure was interested in that kind of life.
Everything in the scriptures he understood. He
knew. Hembers of the St. Hary's Society always came
to him for advice and asked him what Church work
they should do in the future.'

Born in Germany in 1874, Eugene Buechel, S.J. first
arrived among the Lakota in 1902 at St. Francis Hission. From
that time until his death in 1954, he worked among the people

of Rosebud and Pine Ridge as a missionary-priest-linguist. In

1923, he had published a "Bible History,” and in 1939 a
*Black Elk's children, John and Agatha, died at the same time.

 

114

"Grammar of Lakota." Having taken extensive field notes
during his long years on both reservations, Buechel's
collection of the Lakota vocabulary remains unmatched. Jesuit
priests compiled his notes into a dictionary in 1970 and it

stands today as the' authoritative reference on the Lakota
language.

His name is legend among older Lakota speakers, one of
whom told me: "We can't teach the young people how to talk
Indian--the only man who ever spoke it perfect was Father
Buechel, and he's dead!" Another aged acquaintance of mine
recalled speaking to Father Buechel and did not know the old
words used by the priest. Buechel kept a diary during his
many years which contains, aside from pastoral concerns of the

area, a daily statement about the weather (Buechel, 81-2).*

*DeHallie (1984, 38) cites Father Buechel as denouncing the
rabbit dance at the 1929 Congress, the. priest reported as
saying it was one of the "chief evils threatening the family.”
Surprisingly, DeHallie did not mention that Buechel's
comments were part of a larger address entitled ”What must be
done to preserve the Indian race?" The break-up of family
life was the theme of his presentation, and among the ”chief
evils” contributing to this were the dance, "hasty marriages
and the spirit of idleness among the young people.“ The
was the source of this information (9 (4)

(1929): 151-52), and it further noted that Father Buechel
left ”the solution of the problem . . . entirely to the
Indians." DeHallie somewhat tempers the bald-statement above
by noting the Oglalas seemed to have agreed with Buechel, and
pledged to abstain from the dance (Black Elk being one of the
delegates). Verging on caricature, Buechel's depiction in The

W is misleading.

115

On November 14, 1906 Father Buechel made the following
entry in his diary--the incident revealing Black Elk's attempt
to understand his newer religious practice against the
backdrop of his older one. Interestingly, ”fasting“ was
common to both traditions--a correspondence which perhaps
aided his assent. I say ”perhaps” because it seems possible
that when one changes something of import within their
lifestyle, a total dissociation with the past might be sought.
Such a radical break, however, does not seem to have been

operative within Black Elk's action.

”Nick Black Elk had come to collect money at an
issue in Rosebud. As it came off later, he made
three days retreat. I gave (it) to him. He asked
'How is it about eating during the retreat? The
Indians do not eat during their recesses.‘

Lucy could not assign a date to an experience which her
father spoke about in later years, but it occurred at St.
Francis Hission and might have taken place at the time of the ‘
retreat mentioned above, or during other visits there (which

continued for years):

”Hy father was at St. Francis when they were
going to have a burial of a little baby in a casket.
They brought the one that died into church so he
went in and sat down to pray. That casket was there
in the church overnight and they were going to have
it buried the next day.*

"Hy father was in the church that night when a
certain Sister kept coming to the casket. Three
times she came. Finally, she asked my father to
tell the rest of the mourners that she wanted the

*The customary procedure at funerals is to wake the deceased
at a meeting hall or a church for at least a night--mourners
present throughout the time until after burial (whereupon a
"feed“ is held for all present).

116

casket open so she could see the little baby that
was in there. I guess they let her.

"They opened the casket and they found the baby
was alive! And this Sister, my father told us, must
have had a special sense for that child. Anyway it
was a girl in that casket and she grew up to be an
older woman.‘

Prior to his departure as a missionary for
India in 1916, Fr. Henry Westropp, S.J. produced a
little known publication entitled ”In the Land of
the Wigwam: Hissionary Notes from the Pine Ridge
Hission." In this very brief account of his
experiences among the Lakota (15 pages), he refers
to Black Elk's work as a catechist in a manner which
seems to endorse the account given by Lucy some

sixty years later. He writes:

Hany of the younger men who are capable are given
duties as catechists and many of them are and have
been faithful companions for years, gladly
abandoning wife and family for weeks at a time to
help the missionary in his work. One of the most
fervent of these is a quondam ghost dancer and chief
of the medicine men. His name is Black Elk. Ever
since his conversion he has been a fervent apostle
and he has gone around like a second St. Paul,
trying to convert his tribesmen to Catholicity. He
has made many converts. At any time of day or night
he has proved himself ready to get up and go with
the missionary. On any occasion he can arise and
deliver a flood of oratory. Though half blind he
has by some hook or crook learned how to read and he
knows his religion thoroughly. On one occasion a
preacher asked him if he thought it right to honor
the Blessed Virgin. The following dialogue took
place. Black Elk asked him:

117

'Are the angels good people?'

'Yes.'

'And St. Elizabeth, is she good?'

'Yes.'

'And the Holy Ghost?'

'Yes.' .

'Well then if all these honored her Why 8110015 not

I?'

When she was a small child, Lucy accompanied her father
to other reservations where he was assigned. One was the Wind
River Agency of Wyoming--home of the Shoshone and Arapaho.
Here they worked out of the St. Stephens Hission _which, like
the other Jesuit institutions, served as an educational
facility and religious center. Another sojourn was at the
Harty Hission (Duratschek, 273-311), a similar operation
directed by Benedictine priests some 200 miles east of Pine
Ridge. In thinking about early contact with children from
different Sioux bands, Lucy clearly savored retelling memories
of her distant youth. Not particularly apparent in this part
of the account, but poignant in its telling, was Lucy's
profound admiration for her father and his work.

Staying at Harty was less menacing than at other places
because the Yankton people with whom they lived were quite
friendly. Black Elk spread his vision there and returned many
times to encourage its growth.

Lucy continues:
“When I was three years old, my sister Hary
died. She and Agatha used to go to Holy Rosary, so

when we went to St. Stephens in wyoming I used to go

around and cry trying to find her. I thought she

was among those Arapaho girls.
"Finally, they thought I was going to be sick

118

so my father spoke to the superior and said he was
going to bring his family back home. Just before
that my younger brother Henry died.

"Later on, my father and James Grass went back
to the Arapahoes but that tribe had been quarantined
against what they called 'sores'--which was the
German measles. They stayed around until the
quarantine was lifted and wanted to get in contact
with the main leaders. But most of them were on
peyote (especially the Shoshones) so my father and
Grass gave up on them and got ready to leave.

”Then a chief of the Arapahoes came into where
my father was staying, grabbed him by the chest, and
made the sound of a bear. Then it looked as if he
wrapped something up and threw it out. The chief
then said 'You're not strong or brave enough to go
through with us. We were thinking about your
Christianity. We were having a meeting thinking
about you.' That man said he would bring his people
for instruction.

“So my father went to get a permit from the
agent. During the quarantine, they couldn't have
any gatherings and the agent still didn't want to
give them permission for dances. Hy father got the
permit for the Church gathering, but he had also
told the people to bring their Indian costumes to
mass--so that afterwards they could have a feast and
dance. He knew they liked the dancing. So some of
them even wore their Indian costumes to church.
That was the only way they could have their dances
for awhile. Alot of them joined the Church and got
baptized--even peyote people.

"That's when they first started Christmas night
dancing. Everyone would go to midnight Hass, then
have a feast, and the dance. They'd break up real
late. After my father retired, he and Jim Grass
visited them. They found out that they continued
that dance--only now it was for an entire week up
until New Year's. I don't know if they still do
that.

"When I was small, maybe five or six years old,
the missionaries appointed my father and three
others to go east. The places I know he went were
New york, Boston, Washington, D.C., Chicago,
Lincoln, and Omaha. They were trying to lecture for
the Oglala Sioux who were becoming Catholics and who
were in need of chapels and other things. Somebody
served as interpreter for them.

”After this trip, he told us about his
experiences. He said 'In some towns, we'd go down
the street or to some special occasion and some
white people would throw rotten eggs or tomatoes at
us. That happened in some places, but in others a
lot of people were real good to ‘us.' I think he

119

meant the kids were bad to them.

"At one place he said he was up there talking
and saying to the audience: 'You white people, you
came to our country. You came to this country which
was ours in the first place. We were the only
inhabitants. After we listened to you, we got
settled down. But you're not doing what you're
supposed to do--what our religion and our bible
tells us. I know this. Christ himself preached
that we love our neighbors as ourself. Do unto
others as you would have others do unto you. At
that early time, he said those words. He told us
that when he was finished speaking, everybody
clapped. '

”He told me about the white people he had met
when he was in the east. He said they were coming
like a big river through the land and that I must
try and learn at least how to speak English so I
could get along with them and compete with them. He
didn't hold anything against them, but he always
cautioned us to keep our land and work on it--like
we're doing now. We have a garden and have had one
every year.

”When I was six years old we went to Harty,
South Dakota--where the Harty school is now located.
There was a houSe for the catechist to stay in, and
my father was the first one to use it. He went
around with Father Westropp instructing and
baptizing the people. On Sundays, they have Hass
and my father would serve for it. He knew how to
serve.

"We stayed there over a year and I used to play
with the Yankton Sioux children. When I came back
home, my friends all laughed at me because I talked
like a Yankton. Also during this time, the little
Yankton children and myself, we all learned the
Latin responses for Hass. After he retired, my
father used to put my kids to sleep by singing one
of the Latin high Hasses. It would work too. You
Just had to say something to him once and he caught
on.“

STARTING AND SUPPORTING MISSIONARY EFFORTS

How Black Elk's missionary journies sometimes got started
is revealed in the following correspondence (HCIHA).
Interestingly, too, we see another style of self-expression

attributed the man--quite unlike that fashioned by Neihardt

some twenty-odd years later (or by someone else just a year

120

later). Tempering Lucy's enthusiasm for her father's work

among the Shoshone is a letter within the Archives
missionary who mentions Black Elk was good, but

effective as one of the men who accompanied him (viz.,

Writing in English through an interpreter (and

from a

not as
Grass).

someone

able to write) to the Director of the Catholic Indian Hissions

(who was stationed in Washington, D.C.), Black Elk sent the

following letter in 1908:

Dear sir. Wm H. Thatchman lsic/

if you wants have a church in your country why I
wish you let me know.

We was in saint Stephen Wyoiming. and we make have

a church. so.
if you wants same is that. why you let me know.

and shonshone lsic/ indians they wants to me to do

it same

you remember me in prayers your friend

Nick Black Elk, Handerson S.D.

A year later (September 7, 1909), a better interpreter

to have been found, as Black Elk again expressed an eagerness

to be on the road doing Church-work.

Rev. Father Wm H. Ketcham
Washington D.C.

Hy Friend

It is long since I have not written to you. About

two things I want to speak to you. The Assiniboins
in Canada want the prayer. They want to see me very

much.

The other thing is this: I want to take care that

many children in North and South Dakota join the
Society for the Preservation of the Faith.
Therefore I want to go round for 2 or 3 months.

want to hear what you think about that. Hy sister

121

died.

With a good heart I shake hands with you
Nic. Black Elk

Address: Handerson P.O. S. Oak.

In a 1915 letter to the Bureau of Catholic Indian

Hissions (HCIHA), Father Westropp again made reference to
Black Elk--a catechist he described as ”doing great
work.” In this exchange of letters (one by Black Elk),
the matter of ”catechist's salary” is raised. Correcting
what Lucy said earlier about her father receiving
ten-dollars a month, Westropp and Black Elk understood it
to be $25.00, whereas the Bureau ”thought it was
$15.00.“* Perhaps Lucy's recollection was, after all,
one related to the disparity between negotiating parties
(i.e., a difference of ten-dollars). We found the sum of
money paid to be humorous by today's standards. Yet,
Lucy made it clear that her family was never in real
need.

Harquette University's Catholic Hission Archives
contain other letters exchanged between Fathers Ketcham,
Westropp, and Buechel related to Black Elk's missionary
trips and compensation for them. As director of the
Bureau, Ketcham was besieged with correspondence from
missionaries and catechists nationwide. As a result, he
was flooded with reports and requisitions. In Black

*DeHallie reported that catechists were given five
dollars a month (1984, 16).

122

Elk's case, the catechist would write of journies to
different reservations and his efforts to promote the
faith. Generally, he would ask for Ketcham's continued
support of the trips and mention the need for some kind
of travel expense.

Ketcham would then try and corroborate Black Elk's
comments with the priests out in the field. Both
Westropp and Buechel affirmed the catechist's labors, but
cautioned the Director in regard to subsidizing him
beyond what they had already provided. Westropp's 1909
letter, referring to Black Elk as "Uncle" Nick, assured
Ketcham of the catechist's "prosperity" and, as in
Buechel's letter of 1912, noted the tendency of such men
to readily beg. An evaluation of these exchanges given
by DeHallie is that " . . . holding to Christian
doctrine, he practiced the virtue of charity to the
fullest. On the other hand, he was able . . . to fulfill
the traditional role of a Lakota leader, poor himself but
ever generous to his people" (1984, 23). This
understanding, and not a more critical one, seems apropos
as Black Elk's reports from Handerson, published in
Sinasapa Wocekiye Taeyanpaha (a Catholic Sioux
newspaper), reveal him zealously committed to the work of
catechist (See Appendix "Letters'). That is, his toils
were not mercenary. The content of these articles

reflects what Lucy described as the gist of her father's

123

preaching.

The ineradicable memories of Lucy's childhood leave
telling impressions about the spirituality Black Elk
imparted to her. As Lucy related incidents about life

with her father, a unique perspective on Black Elk

gradually unfolded. The grandmother I interviewed was,
at one time, a little girl--the dearly loved and
only-born daughter of Black Elk's two marriages.
Whatever religious practices or impulses Lucy possessed,
whatever spiritual sentiments fashioned her attitudes,
all were expressed relative to the counsel of her father.
Black Elk's little girl, now a woman with grandchildren
of her own, had clearly been the special, beloved
recipient of her father's spiritual legacy--warmly
entrusted to her from birth and daily manifested within
the rubrics of household and reservation life.

When Lucy started school, she was living away from
home the better part of a year--thus limiting her
grade-school recollections to the late Spring and Summer
periods only. Nonetheless, as already shown, she
insisted that her father's life was always preoccupied
with matters involving his role as a catechist. Upon
completion of her eight years of formal education, Lucy
remained at home until her marriage. Hy efforts to
secure a more detailed and systematized pattern of life
for her father always met with Lucy's calm and smiling

restatement of data I already possessed. Namely, when

124

not actively engaged in teaching, ‘preaching, or other
time-consuming Church activities, Black Elk maintained
his home--attending to the oftentimes difficult challenge
of reservation life.

THE GHOST DANCE AND ITS AFTERHATH

The first anecdote of this section again alludes to
historical events already mentioned in passing but not
significantly explained. Students of Indian history (or
Neihardt's work) are familiar with the references, but
the uninitiated need a ”spelling out" of material not
universally owned. To Lucy, my inquiries may have seemed
to be excursions into the obvious. She perhaps little
realized the need to explain a cultural vocabulary unique
to her Lakota upbringing. In fact, I think Lucy wondered
why I could not draw up her account after one session.
But as done elsewhere, so here will be given a context
for better understanding the import of Lucy's words.
Specifically, the Ghost Dance movement needs some
explication.

At times referred to as the "Messiah Craze,” the
Ghost Dance of the 1880's was a Native religious movement
whose most vocal adherents were from among the many Sioux
bands. Rooted in the teachings of a Nevada Paiute named
Wovoka (also known as Jack Wilson), the Ghost Dance was
received as the answer to a prayer. Suffering from
confinement to reservation life, dying from disease and

starvatieh.because of inadequate food allotments, the

125

Lakota fervently embraced a doctrine they heard would end

such unbearable oppression.

Word was received that a second coming of the Christ was
close at hand. Whites had killed him years earlier, so this
time he would deliver the Indian people, restore their
buffaloes, raise the dead, and vanquish their foes. Wovoka is
reported to have preached a doctrine of non-violence and
resignation, but accretions to this teaching surfaced among
the Lakota which eventually produced tragic consequences.

Besides gathering to dance for a return of the dead,
people like Short Bull and Kicking Bear advised that a
speedier end to oppression would occur if "Ghost shirts" were
worn and resistance asserted against whites.* The shirts were
thought to have the power of deflecting bullets, and any form
of submission to reservation law would only delay liberation.
Consequently, a militant atmosphere prevailed throughout
Lakota country as Spring of 1891 was signalled to be the time
of deliverance. Heanwhile, government injunctions against
these ideas and practices only seemed to underscore their
validity. The oppressors knew they were doomed, Ior so went
the thinking, and the exhaustive, trance-producing dance
became the order of the day.

Sent to intercept Big Foot's band of Hinneconju dancers,
cavalry troops mismanaged surrender-negotiations and

*In the Neihardt transcripts Black Elk claims to have started

the wearing of ghost shirts--something not confirmed in other
documents.

126

precipitated the now infamous massacre/battle of Wounded Knee
on December 29, 1890. ' With the mass burial of over
two-hundred men, women, and children, and with the Spring of
1891 giving birth to only the summer, protective shirts and a
second coming became dreams-turned-nightmare. The Ghost Dance
hope was dead, even though the conditions which produced it
were not.*

Lucy Speaks

"At one time, Father Lindebner said to my
father: 'Nick, go over there and I'll have Hr.
Fills The Pipe go along with you to instruct a very
old lady so she can be baptized pretty soon. I'll
come along later.'

”Hy mother said I wanted to go so my father
hooked up the team and we went down the creek below
Handerson toward Rocky Ford. When we arrived there,
this old lady was in a little log house shack all by
herself--next to a bigger house where the people who
took care of her lived.

”We went in and she greeted us, and my father
instructed her. Afterwards, Father Lindebner came.

”Hy father asked the old lady 'Unci,' that
means Grandma, 'do you want to be baptized and join
the Church?‘ Right away she said 'yes, everybody is
getting baptized so don't leave me out.‘ She said
she was willing to answer every question they asked.

So my father said 'Do you believe in the
Catholic Church?’ She said ”yes." And then he said
'Do you believe in Jesus Christ who came down from
heaven?' And she said "Yes, I know that long time
ago." Right away she looked at Father Lindebner and
said 'But I heard the wasicus (white men) were bad
so they killed him.’ We'd take that as a joke
today, but they didn't. They just went on
instructing her, and pretty soon she was baptized
and willing to receive communion.

"After that, although she was pretty old, she

*When I was still teaching in Pine Ridge, a film-producer from
California was directed to sit in on my Native American
Studies class. Afterwards, he asked if I might introduce him

‘ to ghost dancers (the purpose of his visit being to film them
performing). Realizing he had been misled into thinking it
was still practiced, the man seemed greatly disappointed.

127

walked to St. Peter's Church.* I guess she really
believed in the faith because she used to walk
slowly, but she always did get there to receive her
communion. Then she'd walk back to her shack again.

"She was really rewarded with a happy death.
The priest was there and she received her last rites
and communion. And that's one I witnessed myself.

”Another time Father Lindebner came over to
baptize my grandma and her cousins. They were all
living together and were ready to be baptized
because they had already been instructed. And again
there was my father and his friend (he says it‘s his
cousin) old man Fills The Pipe--who was trying to
make them say the Acts of Faith, Hope, Charity, and
the Act of Contrition.

”He was trying his best to make them say the
prayers along with him but they were kind of
blundering. Fills The Pipe would tell them: 'Say
after me.' And one old lady would repeat 'Say after
me' each time he'd begin a new sentence.

"They were going so slow that I took my fancy
little cup. I had it ever since I was a small girl.
I took my cup, filled it with water, and went around
baptizing my three grandmas. That Father
Lindebner--I really like him. He just stood there
looking at me pouring water on each one and said
'Hurry up with the prayers, Lucy has already
baptized all the old ladies!‘

”I guess I really took to everything and I'll
always thank my father for training me and giving me
a good Catholic life. But that's the way they were.
He and my mother were really interested in Church
work.

”In those days it was fun to get a lot of the
older people baptized. Sometimes they'd understand
and sometimes they wouldn't. They might ask a woman
what name she had chosen and she might say "Jacob,
or some other man's name. Or, one man said "I want
to be called Julia.” So, things like that happened
in the old days.

”Since my father and mother trained me as a
helper, I had to teach the younger people. I had to
go along with my father to teach them prayers in
Lakota--like the Our Father and Hail Hary. And I
had to tell them stories in the Bible like when the
Lord was born in Bethlehem.

"Anyway that's the way I followed them around.
And my father told me to do my duty as a

*St. Peter's church is thirteen miles north of present
Handerson.

day

128

Catholic--go to Hass, receive the sacraments, and
never forget to thank Wakan-Tanka for the blessings
and benefits he has bestowed upon me. He always
said ”To live close to God is more enjoyable than to
live easy--with all the pleasures and
riches--because such things never will reach to
heaven. One thing is never lie, too, because you
will lose all your honesty towards God and your
neighbors.“

”When I took communion, I knew that Christ came
into my heart. He was present on the altar and he
came to my parents and my heart. I used to play
with my dolls and make believe they received
communion. I'd dress them in white and put that
little veil on them and make believe they nade their
first communion.

“I also used to go out in the garden Jhen I was
a little girl and shake hands with the cori stalks.
'Good morning,‘ I would say to these creatires. And
I would pray with them.

"Another time there was going to be a Christmas
Hidnight Hass so my father told me to g) to bed
early. He said that 'Tonight Jesus comes into the
Church'--and we all believed exactly tiat since
Christianity had just been taught to the Indians.
Anyway, I got up, dressed, and went into church.

”After I went out of the house, my mother must

have put a doll above my bed as a present. I also
had a stocking hanging there so they filled it up
with candy and nuts and on top of it they put a big
apple. When I returned from Hass, I didn't notice
anything. I just went to bed. I didn't look
around. -
”Next morning, my father sang an old song with
the words: 'Get up and see what you've got above
you. Get up and see what you've got above you. Get
up and see what you've got above you.'

"He was singing that, and I knew he meant me.
So I looked up and here that doll was hanging there.
And my stocking was filled with candy and things I
really enjoyed. That was the first time I ever had
a doll. Later I went to school at Holy Rosary and
Father Buechel gave me a doll too--a nice little
doll which I had for a long time. .

"Well, it came to pass that my father said I
must attend school at the Holy Rosary Hission and
that I couldn't go along with them on the missionary
trips. He said 'Now since you're a girl and not a
boy, I want you to take music lessons and learn all
you can. So after you get out of school, you're
going to be playing for the Hass and for all
Catholic gatherings. That way you can serve God.
If you were a boy, I would have you trained as a

129

catechist.’ “

”So I did. That way I thought I would please
my father. Yet, I learned afterwards that the
Sisters who taught me music actually worked for the
service of God, and it was actually a heaven-sent
talent that I learned from the Holy Rosary Hission.

"I was an organist for the last thirty-four
years, and sometimes I still play when I'm in a good
mood--but sometime I have a little rheumatism so I
hardly ever play anymore.

”When we went to the Holy Rosary Hission, my
father and mother didn't even notice that I wore my
beaded mocassins. I also wore a velvet dress which
had ruffles on it, and my hair was long. So my
father brought me to school and my mother stayed
home because she hated to see me go.

"Father Buechel went and got a box with a big
red apple on it and said 'I got something that
you'll really like.’ So I looked in the box and
there was a doll--the kind that slept. Hy dad was
there to see if I was going to cry--because my mom
told him to take me back home if I did. But I
passed him and went to the school clothing room with
Sister Genevieve.

”She took away my mocassins and gave me some
real thick shoes, black stockings, and a big heavy
dress with ruffles.

”I was at Holy Rosary when my grandma died, and
I didn't know anything about it until my father,
mother, and baby brother came to visit me. Hy
mother had her hair all down, like in the morning
when you get up, and it wasn't braided. She wore
black and when she saw me she hugged me and was
crying as she said 'Your grandma died'."

When Lucy related the above incident, her words were
slowly and solemnly uttered--the heartfelt loss of her
grandmother seeming far more immediate than some sixty years
passed. A reflective silence followed this account as Lucy
affectionately beheld her own grandchildren playing on the
nearby hills.

Lucy continues:
”Once, after he retired, my father told me

about the years when he first became a catechist.
He said the people would scourge him with vicious

130

words and make fun of him since he had been a yuwipi
medicine man. The people made a lot of vicious talk
concerning him but he held on and did not go back to
his old ways.

"There's a couple or three times, he said, that
people would chase them out of the house--not
wanting to have them in there. They belonged to
this peyote clan (at that time they were really
going strong).* So they chased him out and even
threw their books out. That's the kind of life he
led, and those were some of the hardships he faced
during his first years as a catechist.

”Hy father told me: 'At first, they called me
names. They called me.ynuipi man and said that I
was the devil. But I was a catechist so I never
paid any attention to them. Pretty soon, they
quieted down and started coming to me, working with
me, and associating with me. I found out that the
ones who did say those bad things about me were the
ones not easily converted into the church. They'd
come and talk to me and tell me this problem and
that problem and by just looking at their faces I
could understand what kind of people they are in
their hearts.'

"He said that 'At first the little ones
listened to me more than the older people. I was
always willing to talk to them about God and about
our Lord, who was born and died for all of us men.
The little ones, the children, were really glad
every time I had a service. They enjoyed it. It
was the little children who were interested, who
came, and listened to me. One of the greatest
things God rewarded me with was the little ones. I
was always loved by little ones. It seemed like God
said 'Let the children come to me' for that's the
way it was.** I still think that since I have
become a grandfather, why I still am loved by little
ones.‘

”So that was always his main teaching. When he
taught, he said 'Unless we become as children,
become like those little children'--he would point

to some--'we cannot enter the Kingdom.’ That was
his main topic.*
One time he told me: 'I know I have a lot of

little angels up there in heaven watching over me,
and one day I'll see them.‘ He said that during his

*The "Native American Church" is referred to here, a religious
practice based on the consumption of peyote and its blend of

- traditional and Christian elements. Cf. Steltenkamp 1982;
53-76.

**Black Elk alludes here to Luke 18:15-17.

131

life as a
catechist he baptized a lot of little babies who
were dying and since the priest wasn't there he had
to baptize them. Those were the ones he meant. He
said that they were his 'little helpers' and
'guides.'

Whenever they'd have a meeting--they always
liked to have meetings at that time, in the early
life of the Sioux Catholics--they liked to hear
about God and about Christianity. So they liked to
have meetings. At that time, the regulations were
very strict so they didn't associate with the other
denominations or have anything to do with divorced
persons. They didn't allow them in the meetings.

'At all Catholic gatherings--celebrations or
meetings--they were bound to have my father lecture
on something about the Church. One of his favorite
subjects was on the words 'What does it profit a man
if he gain the whole world and suffer the loss of
his soul.'** That's one of the things I'll always
remember about him teaching during those years.

"Hy father would really stand out there
preaching with all his might. He'd tell me 'It's
pretty hard to be teaching the people. But still, I
feel good when I get through. It seems I feel so
good that I can just feel at ease when I finish
instructing them--even though at first it's like
doing heavy labor. Haybe Our Lord helps me to put
on inspiring preaching.‘

”I remember a relative of mine used to come
over and used to gossip about her aunts and uncles.
She used to talk about them and complain about them.
So before she left one day, my father said to her,
'Takoja,' that meant 'daughter-in-law'--'the strong
person doesn't speak sharp words about their
neighbor, or other persons. People hear such words
and they like to hear them--then they somehow feel
satisfied. Seems like all they want to do is hear
bad things.‘

”Hy father gave her an example. He said:
'It's like a dog who gets so hungry at times it goes
out and gets all sorts of bones. Even if they're
dry and rotted, he carries them back to the house
and just piles them up stinking. The dog thinks
there's real meat on the bones, he picks them up to
eat--they're messy and not good for him at all.
That's the way it is with people. They like to hear

*This biblical reference is to Hatthew 18:2.
**Hatthew 16:26.

132

and speak harsh words all the time in all places.'*

”'You yourself, if you believe in God, should
just forgive others. Don't mention anything about
them. The people you complain about might just be
ignorant. They themselves want to do good for you
because they see you talk nice about them. They see
you don't even care what they said to you. That way
they'll be back in the religion and do things you
respect. And when they're dead, you can say nice
words about them.‘

'That's what he told that lady. That's the way
he talked--in a nice way so she wasn't offended.
After my father said this to her, she was really

getting along good with her relatives right up until
they died.”

*"Bones" figure prominently within Lakota mythology,
particularly within the story that relates the coming of the
Sacred Pipe (Brown 1953, 3-4). Helody suggests the tale be
understood to mean that "the life of legocentric/
gratification is itself that of bones" (1980, 12). It is not
surprising that Black Elk draw upon this conventional metaphor
to illustrate a morality that was thematic in his life prior
to and after his conversion.

CHAPTER VII

CATECHIST- AND HEYOKA-FATHER

While assigned to the Oglala district of the Pine Ridge
reservation, Black Elk had some humorous experiences which
Lucy found most memorable. When she related to me the
episodes that follow, the family members present took great
delight in hearing them. By contrast, the day-to-day routine
of her father's life at Oglala is more soberly stated in
Father Buechel's diary. The December 23, 1928 entry reads:
"Hass, sermon & 12 Holy Communions at Oglala. Drove home. On
the way, Black Elk & I prayed for Hrs. Charles Eagle Louse who
is sick." Other dates, containing scant information, show
Black Elk sponsoring for baptisms and present at various
religious gatherings.

Lucy continues:

Hy father was appointed catechist at Oglala, so
we moved there. Hy father would often have services
and come home by himself real late at night. Hy
mother would leave a lamp burning near the window so
my father could find our house--as it was out in the
country. Anyway, one night my father came walking
home but a" he saw were tall trees and bushes. Hy
mother had forgot to light the lamp and my father

was lost.
He started shouting 'hey, hey' but my mother
was sound asleep and didn't hear him. I woke up

right away and poked my mother saying 'Hother,
there's my father shouting outside.' So she got up,
opened the door, and saw my father about ten feet
away from the house looking the other way. You see
his sight wasn't too good at the time and he didn't
know he was so close to home. That's why he was
shouting for help.*
On another dark night my father came home

*Hight this have been Black Elk's way of encouraging his wife
to remember leaving a light burning, i.e., awaken her in the

middle of the night by pretending to blindly look in another
direction? 133

134

riding our big white horse Baloney. Baloney was so
well broken that you could just let the reins drop
and he wouldn't move--he'd just stand there. When
my father came home, he got off the horse and went
to open the corral we had nearby. After he opened
the gate he turned around and was really scared. A
white ghost with big black eyes was right behind
him--looking at him. Hy father real quickly punched
that ghost in the nose and was he surprised to see
Baloney run off. You see he didn't realize that
Baloney had followed him to the gate and had turned
to face him. That horse didn't come back until the
next day.

Father Henry Grotegeers used to ride a
motorcycle when he went around to say Hass. Hy
father was at Holy Rosary Hission one day and Father
Henry asked if he would help assist at the services
in Oglala. So my fahter got on the back of the
motorcycle and the two of them started off. When
they got to the church, Father Henry couldn't stop
the motorcycle so he headed for the racetrack that
used to be there. They went around and around that
track until Father Henry decided to head back to the
Hission. Hy father held on all the time wondering
why they coundn't stop.

On the way back to the Hission, Father Henry
changed his mind and figured he would stop that
motorcycle by driving it into a bank. So he crashed
into a bank on the side of the road and he and my
father were thrown off. Hy father shouted at Father
Henry 'You nearly killed me!’ But when he told us
the story afterwards we all laughed and laughed.

Another time, one of the missionaries came
along to get my father for a trip. So my father
said: 'I'm going to get my clean clothes on.’ He
was in such a hurry that he rushed to the suitcase
and started dressing. They must have both used the
same one for when he put on his underwear, he was
wearing those things (Lucy points to the chest
area). It was my mother's underwear he put on!

He was mad. He went to my mother and said,
'Woman, put your things in a separate place from
here on!'

And another time, during Christmas, he was
resting. For any big feast or holiday that .came
along we used to stay overnight in the addition to
the meeting house. So everybody was getting ready
for the Christmas party--putting up the tree, and
preparing for services. When they were ready for
prayer to begin, they called my father.

Right away he went and got his coat and threw
it over his shoulders. All the coats were hanging
on nails. So there he was leading prayer in front

135

of all the peeple on that cold night-dwearing my
mother's coat, which had real high shoulders.

When he finally sat down, one of the men near
him said 'Cousin, you've got a nice coat on.
Where'd you get it?‘ Hy father then went over to my
mother and said 'You hang your coat someplace else!’

One time my father went with Father Westropp
way over to the Cheyenne agency and they had to
cross the Cheyenne River. When they got there it
was flooded so my father said 'Father, I don't think
we'll be able to cross it.' But Father Westropp
said, 'No, Nick, God is going to help us. He'll
take care of us.‘ So they went into the water.

Well, it was so high that the horses were
swimming, and they were just barely hanging on to
the buggy. All their belongings just floated
away--their Bibles, prayerbooks, bedding, and even
their food. On the other side were some people who
came to rescue them.

These people took Father Westropp and my father
to their camp and everybody's clothes were just all
soaking wet. They clothed them, fed them, and gave
them a place to sleep. They even gave them
hats--cowboy hats. So that's the kind of life they
had in those days.

When he was older and retired from his Church
work, my father did that 13121, that sweatlodge,
with some other men. Georgie was outside and in
charge of opening the flap when they needed air.
Well, we had a windmill nearby and Georgie went and
climbed it just when they wanted that flap opened.
I heard them shouting for Georgie but he couldn't
get down. Since that sweatlodge was for men only, I
didn't want to open the door and I told them Georgie
couldn't get down. I \vasn't going to open that
door. After I said that, my father shouted right
away 'Daughter! Open that flap now or we'll burn up
in here!‘ By that time, Georgie had climbed down
and could open the door--so, they were really glad
to finally get some relief. It was really hot
inside.

At one time he went and took his buggy and team
to the store. As you know, he was a pretty
talkative man--so while he was there, he forgot
about his buggy and team. After he came out to go
home with his groceries, his team and buggy were
gone! They had left him and went home. After he
got a ride, he found them back at our place.

Another time, he rode to the store and left his
horse in the front. He then came home, but forgot
that this horse was tied up on the rail.

Although Lucy seemed to assess the above incidents as

136

simply humorous happenings from many years ago, those related
to wife and horses suggest another level of meaning at play.
Each episode dealing with wife or horses demonstrates, in some
form, a circuitous reproof (heyoka-like?) administered by
Black Elk to two types of creature with whom he had to
contend. However, layers of interpretation aside, everyone
with whom I spoke always recalled Lucy's father to be a man
with a good sense of humor.

Even in the account of suffering he encountered at the
massacre of Wounded Knee, Black Elk made a statement which
reflects his.ngygka,upbringing. Finding soup in a deserted
tipi north of Pine Ridge, he and his friend stopped and helped
themselves to it. Soldiers were in hot pursuit of the two
men, and bullets whistled in and about the tipi. One bullet
having struck too close, Black Elk casually states "If that
bullet had only killed me, then I could have died with .9393
(dried meat) in my mouth." His statement is intentionally
humorous. It is comic relief during a narrative of woe.
However, readers unattuned to this facet of the man's
personality can easily miss this constitutive biographical
theme (BES, 224-25).

NEIHARDT'S VISIT AND THE REACTIONS IT PROVOKED

Lucy could recall very little about Neihardt's visit with
' her father, but Father Sialm's diary reflects a viewpoint held
by some of the Catholic priests at the time Black Elk Speaks
was first published. The basic objection to the book rested

not so much on what was related, but rather on what was left

137

out. Neihardt's so-called ”life story" covered only a part of
the man's life (twenty-four years) and this, they felt, was an
injustice to Black Elk--who had labored long years as a
Christian missionary among his people. Excerpts from the
diary should illustrate this.

Placidus Sialm, born in Disentis, Switzerland in 1872,
first came to Pine Ridge in 1901. He died there in 1940. His
use of the word "pagan"--a term which today carries pejorative
connotation at times--should be understood in the following
context to mean "a person who has not been baptized into the
Christian faith.“

Concerning Black Elk's relationship with Fathers Sialm,
Zimmerman, and others, Lucy said: "Oh, he liked all of them,
even though they said Father Sialm really got after him
sometimes. But he didn't mind that. Father Sialm was my
confessor, but I don't know much about him." Lucy's original
sentiments regarding the publication of ‘Blagh__zlk__§pg§k§,
paralleled those expressed by Father Sialm. With the passage
of time, however, both Lucy and Father Sialm's colleagues have
come to appreciate the biography Neihardt put together about
her father's early life. The diary reported:

"He was very zealous . . . and went much around with

Fr. Westropp. He became catechist and traveled to

other reservations under direction of Fr. Westropp.

He was well educated in the faith.

Nic Black Elk lsic/ could have finished the book

with a fine chapter of his conversion. But Neihardt

did not want that . . . Nic as Catholic did more for

his people than as medicine man before. Nic was in

his best years when he was converted and he knew
that the Gospel was clearer than his dream.

138

Nic had many fine speeches about the Catholic faith
in big assemblies, at congresses in several places.
But all that did not suit Hr. Neihardt.

For quite a few years Nic Black Elk made the
Catholic retreat under Fr. Sialm and what he learned
then was more than all the dreams of the Indian
medicine men. After one of these retreats Nic Black
Elk came to Fr. Sialm with the solemn declaration:
'We Indian catechists have resolved never to commit
a mortal sin.' It was Nic in the name of all who
made up the resolution. In our great procession of
Corpus Christi, Nic Black Elk was prominent in
leading the real Indians in their costumes in the
procession. It was perhaps the greatest exultation
of his heart when he saw so many Indians following
up to Corpus Christi Hill in Oglala and in Handerson
in perfect order and knowing & firmly believing that
the living Christ was among and with them all to
bless them 5 their country. He saw then more horses
lined up than in his dream. With 9 years Nic Black
Elk could for a truth not count the horses which he
pretended to have seen in the dream. But perhaps it
was rather Hr. Neihardt who by all force put things
together to suit his own purpose. Black Elk cannot
read the book as it stands and cannot object against
the forceful contorsion /sic/ of the poet.

The greatest injustice, however, is that Black Elk
is left under the impression that now as an old man
he is in despair about fulfilling his destiny for
his people. He has done wonderful good work for the
truth a the way a the light which is Christ, and His
one holy catholic apostolic Church. We, as
missionaries. whom Black Elk calls Fathers, are
obliged to protest against the injustices done to
Black Elk--one of the worst exploitations ever done
to an honest Indian. This book: Black Elk Speaks
has no 'placet' and no 'imprimatur' from Black Elk.
It could fairly be put into the class of not only
exploitation, but what is worse, of
stealing--plagiarism--material for a book, cleverly
done, a kind of kidnapping the very words of a man .
. . and translated then: into a new language to
disguise the fraud.

We missionaries have learned the language of the
Indians. We lived with them not only a few months.
We know their good and bad qualities. But we feel
that the Indians have sacred rights to be respected.
If a book cuts out the very best from a man's life
under his very roof: this is not to be left
unchallenged. we know that Black Elk would not

139

conclude his narrative as did Hr. Neihardt. His son
Ben Black Elk said that the last chapter was not in
the intention of his father.*

Black Elk did not divest himself from Christianity
to fit a poet in such a manner as to stand before
the world as a real old time pagan. It badly befits
an old man to dissimulate. In the old Book we read
of a man in his old days who would not dissimulate
but would rather die to keep his good reputation and
to be an encouragement to young people than a
stumbling block.** Black Elk knows that story. He
is man enough and Christian in addition as not to
fall back from the holy command which was delivered
to him by his missionaries. He knows better than
Neihardt the words of Peter II, 2: 22. Black Elk
knows all those truths and stands for them. If it
were in his power he would solemnly protest against
this book, especially against the last chapter added
without one consultation by the writer.*

Let him speak as a pagan up to 1900--but after
baptism Black Elk solemny lsic/ protests to stamp
him again a pagan. In the last 30 years since we
knew Black Elk this Indian stands up as a Christian,
knowing & professing Christ the true Hessiah and his
only church with Peter, the Rock, as guide a light.

It is wonderful to have a solemn Declaration of
Black Elk with regard to his firm a solid Catholic
faith signed by himself a declared before the whole
world. This Declaration should stand in every new
edition of Black Elk Speaks. The members of his
parish St. Agnes Handerson & all the Catholic
Indians on Pine Ridge Reservation will gladly
testify that Black Elk is one of their true a
sincere members a should not stand before the world
now in his old age as an old time pagan and medicine
man. Black Elk is a true Christian.

Such a "declaration" was finally made, but never reached

*Forty years after Sialm stated this objection, Hc Cluskey
noted the same when she quoted Neihardt as saying the final
three paragraphs of the book were what Black Elk ”would have
said if he had been able” (1979, 232). Holler also disagrees
with Neihardt's opinion that these most quoted passages of the
work reflected the holy-man's thought (1984, 36-7).

**2Hac. 6:18-31 is the priest's scriptural reference.

140

the presses as a post-script. In short, feelings were hurt,

as the following document reveals.

Holy Rosary Hission
Pine Ridge, 8. Dak.
January 26, 1934

Black Elk Speaks Again--A Last Word

I shake hands with my white friends. Listen, I
speak some true words. A white man made a book and
told what I had spoken of olden times, but the new
times he left out. So I speak again, a last word.

I am now an old man. I called my priest to pray
for me and to give me holy oil and the Holy Food,
the "Yutapi Wakan." Now I will tell you the truth.
Listen my friends.

In the last thirty years I am different from

what the white man wrote about me. I am a
Christian. I was baptized thirty years ago by the
Black-gown priest called Little Father

- . After that time all call me Nick
Black Elk. Host of the Sioux Indians know me. I am
now converted to the true Faith in God the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost. I say in my own Sioux
Lakota language;.Atennyanpj--Our Father who art in
heaven, Hallowed be thy name--as Christ taught us to
say. I say the Apostle's Creed and I believe every
word of it.

I believe in seven Holy Sacraments of the
Catholic Church. I myself received now six of them;
Baptism, Confirmation, Penance, Holy Communion, Holy
Harriage, and Extreme Unction.

I was for many years a regular companion of
several missionaries going out campaigning for
Christ among my people. I was nearly twenty years
the helper of the priests and acted as Catechist in
several camps. So I knew my Catholic Religion
better than many white people.

For eight years I made the regular Retreat given
by the priest for Catechists and I learned much of
the faith in those days. I can give reasons for my
faith. I know Whom I have believed and my faith is
not vain.

Hy family is all baptized. All my children and
grand-children belong to the Black-gown church and I
am glad of that and I wish that all should stay in
that holy way.

I know what St. Peter said about those who fall
way from the Holy Commandments. You white friends
should read 2 Peter 2-20, 22. I tell my people to
stay in the right way which Christ and His church

141

have taught us. I will never fall back from the
true faith in Christ.

Thirty years ago I was a real Indian and knew a
little about the Great Spirit--the Wakantanka, I
was a good dancer and I danced before Queen Victoria
in England. I made medicine for sick people. I was

proud, perhaps I was brave, perhaps I was a good
Indian; but now I am better.

St. Paul also turned better when he was
converted. I now know that the prayer of the
Catholic Church is better than the Sun-dance or the
Ghost-dance. Old Indians danced that kind for their
own glory. They cut themselves so that the blood
flowed. But Christ was nailed to the Cross for sin
and he took away our sins. The old Indian prayers
did not make people better. The medicine men looked
for their own glory and for presents. Christ taught
us to be humble and to stop sin. Indian, medicine
men did not stop sin. I want to be straight as the
black-gown church teaches us to be straight to save
my soul for heaven. This I want to do. I
cheerfully shake hands with you all.

signed: Nick Black Elk
Lucy C. Looks Twice
Joseph A. Zimmerman, S.J.

Concerning the above statement, DeHallie notes that the
translation ”tends to slant the document slightly more in
Christian idioms (1984, 61)," and so re-translated the
declaration for The Sixth Grandfather. A second document,
written eight months later (appearing below), demonstrates
that a certain ”fallout,“ difficult to assess, continued to
linger after the book's publication. A word is in order such
that there be clarity on the roles and sentiments of the
persons involved.

A signatory to the first letter, Joseph A. Zimmerman, was
a Jesuit priest who figured prominently in the life of Black
Elk and other Lakota over many years. He was born in

Westphalia, Wisconsin in 1884, and spent thirteen years at St.

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Francis Hission on the Rosebud before coming to Holy Rosary in
1930. Brown informed me that Father Zimmerman opposed his
work with Black Elk--the priest objecting to a resurrection of
”old time religion.” Ironically, a present day medicine man
of the reservation told me that he regarded Father Zimmerman
as a ”saint" who, in the medicine man's words: “I pray to.”
When Brown visited, Zimmerman no doubt vividly recalled the
aftermath of Neihardt's stay, and wanted to avoid such matters

happening again.

As to the purpose for writing not just one, but two,
declarations, DeHallie rightly suggests that some of the
missionaries (like Zimmerman) were disturbed by the Neihardt
portrayal. He is mistaken, though, to speculate that Lucy was
perhaps ”the actual author of the letter" (62h). Before
explaining why this caution be made, the letter itself is
worth noting at this point. Written from Oglala on September
20, 1934, it reads:

Dear Friends:

Three years ago in 1932 a white man named John G.
Neihardt came up to my place whom I have never met
before and asked me to make a story book with him.
I don't know whether he took out a permit from the
agent or not. He promised me that if he completed
and publish /sic/ this book he was go pay half of
the price of each book. I trusted him and finished
the story of my life for him. After he published
the book I wrote to him and ask /sic/ him about the
price which he promise me on the books he sold. He
answered my letter and told me that there was
another white man who has asked him to make this
book so he himself hasn't seen a cent from the book
which we made. By this I know he was deceiving me
about the whole business. I also asked to put at
the end of this story that I was not a pagan but
have been converted into the Catholic Church in

143

which I work as a catechist for more than 25 years.
I've quit all these pagan works. But he didn't
mention this. Cash talks. So if they can't put
this religion life in the last part of that book,
also if he can't pay what he promised, I ask you my
dear friends that this book of my life will be null
and void because I value my soul more than my body.
I'm awful sorry for the mistake I made. I also have
this witnesses to stand by me.

I'm yours truly

Nick Black Elk

my name is not Amerdian /sic/ but he is lying about

my name

Basing his surmise on correspondence between Ben Black
Elk and Neihardt, DeHallie noted the family's expressed
respect for the author--Ben even naming a son after the poet.
Within this correspondence, and surmise, mention is made of
other catechists being ”opposed to--or perhaps jealous of--the
book" (62), particularly one Emil Afraid of Hawk. Ben is said
to have written that Emil ”has been loading the old man about
lots of things. The old man felt uneasy for a while. But he
is perfectly satisfied, very glad to hear 'you are coming
again.” DeHallie's conclusion is a logical one, given this
material and is, indeed, characteristically well-researched
and well-written. However, other factors were at play.

As mentioned earlier, there was some disagreement at the
time of Neihardt's visit as to who should be interpreter.
According to Lucy, and corroborated by others with whom I
spoke, Emil's role as interpreter was short-lived, as Ben
wished to have involvement with the project. From that time
on, Lucy's brother was a moving force behind Neihardt's

accumulation of data, and Lucy was at odds with her brother as

144

to how the whole matter was being handled. Persons like Emil
and Lucy dissociated themselves from the enterprise on grounds

similar to those of the missionaries, i.e., the highlighting
of Black Elk's earlier years at the expense of his later ones.
Ben's interests were at odds with his sister's.

Knowing of Ben's eagerness for further visits, and
knowing about the above correspondence of .Ben to Neihardt,
Lucy would certainly advocate yet another ”declaration” from
her father. DeHallie recognized that the document was
”difficult . . . to assess" and that "the motive for writing
it is not clear." But given the date of the first declaration
(January) and the date of Ben's invitation to Neihardt (June),
and taking into consideration Lucy's resistance to her
brother's involvement, it is not at all surprising that
September disclose additional reasons why Black Elk redress
the course of events. Unfortunate as this father-daughter-son
interplay might be, it was, nonetheless, a reality Black Elk
had to contend with during the book's writing and
post-production.

In essence, the second letter is that of Black Elk as he
found himself in the middle of his children's disagreement.
Appeasing both sides, the holy-man seems to have ultimately
steered a course that was as accomodating to as many parties
as possible.

”Who” said "what” appears to have been a matter not

easily laid to rest since it also bore upon.filggh__£1h__§pgg5§
itself. Joseph Epes Brown mentioned to me that while working

145

on.1hg_§§g;gd_flipg he had reason to correspond with John
Neihardt. The poet insisted that his depiction of Black Elk
was greatly embellished and only ”based” on the holy-man's
recollections (supplementary material was gleaned, apparently,
from other sources). Instead of keeping the original title of
his work, Neihardt requested in 1972 that it be changed to
‘Blagk_£1k_fipeaks_. . . "as told through" /italics added/ the
author. As stated earlier, the 1932 edition said "as told to”
/italics added/--an important change which has been often
overlooked by readers. Nonetheless, in Brown's opinion, the
book seemed greatly indebted to Black Elk--even though some
Lakota attribute much of the information to Ben.

Assessing all of these qualifications is, at times,
difficult, but some essential elements are clear. Obviously,
Lucy's father was not a mythical, epic hero whose every waking
moment could be construed into a swashbuckling adventure-yarn.
Nor was he an otherworldly mystic unconcerned with the
pressing issues of everyday life. Instead, Lucy's account
(combined with recollections of those who knew Black Elk)
reveals the compelling personality captured in the Neihardt
work, and does so, simply, in a fashion that reads a little
more "down to earth.”

The ”forceful contorsions” spoken of by Father Sialm are
not, it seems, a writer's creative imagination, but are rather
Neihardt's choice of emphases. Whatever the poet may have
embellished, whatever data he fictionalized into misleading or

ambiguous conclusions regarding Black Elk's world-view, he

146

still managed to discover and reveal much of the substance
that made the holy-man who he was.

Prior to meeting Neihardt, Black Elk's destiny as an
internationally known mystic could only be the imaginative
dream of an old grandfather (considering his remote
reservation existence). However, after. learning about the
holy-man's entire life from a more intimate perspective, I
must admit to wondering if the disclosure of his story from
start-to-finish just might be a phenomenon not solely guided
by human design. It is, simply, intriguing that an old man's
vision still unfolds these long years after his
death--revealed, as he hoped it would be, to countless persons
far-removed from his place and time.

Consonant with Father Sialm's earlier remarks, Father
Zimmerman sent out missionary "appeal letters” which

emphasized Black Elk's role as catechist, stating that:

The Jesuit Fathers . . . trained him for his many
years as a catechist to his race--twenty-seven years
on the Pine Ridge Reservation--two years at Yankton
Agency--one year at Sisseton Agency--and one year at
St. Stephens, Wyoming among the Arapahos. His rare
gift of making clear the Catholic teachings won many
inquirers. One of the old missionaries believes him
responsible for at least four hundred conversions.
Old age, blindness and the seven miles between him
and the nearest Catholic Church prevent him from
often hearing mass, so at times I promise to say
mass at his home. Then he sends out word and
gathers in the entire neighborhood, and as in his
old time catechist days leads them in hymns and
prayers.

Reminiscent of the Neihardt/Black Elk meeting, Zimmerman

recalled the holy-man's greeting upon the priest's return to

147

Handerson after a three year absence: ”Every day I saw you in

my prayers. I knew you would come back. When I looked and

saw you I could not believe my eyes, and tears rolled down."
In this same vein, Neihardt reported his introduction to

Black Elk the following way (BES, x):*

"That was kind of funny, the way the old man
seemed to know you were coming.’ My son remarked
that he had the same impression; and when I had
known the great old man for some years I was quite
prepared to believe that he did know, for he
certainly had supernormal powers.”

*Geronimo's grandson reported that ”Things come to me two or
three days ahead of time. I can look into the flames and see
what happens. Grandfather was that way. He'd look into the
fire and suddenly he would make a loud noise. Everyone would
run for cover. And sure enough, 20 minutes later the soldiers
would come (1986, 11)." Pre-cognition among pre-literate
peoples was of interest to Carl Jung as examples of it were
numerous.

CHAPTER VIII
BLACK ELK'S VISION AND THE ”TWO ROADS MAP”

In Lakota tradition, "visions of real significance could
come to a child of ten and twelve years and might affect the
course of his life" (Hassrick, 281). Never taken lightly by
their recipients, such visions still retained a forceful hold
on people quite advanced in age. A vision often prescribed
particular obligations and brought special power to the person
receiving it (Lowie 1963, 170-75).

John Neihardt related that at the age of nine a great
vision came to Black Elk. With vivid detail this vision is
narrated throughout the course of an early chapter in 1311;;
.Blk_fingahg (17-39). Waters said that it was "the living
heart” of the book and Black Elk's life and that an ”attempt
to describe it would do it injustice" (1984, 187).

Neihardt shows that this childhood experience was pivotal
in determining Black Elk's every pursuit, as the holy-man
repeatedly asks of flakan Tank; if he has properly implemented
the great vision. At the book's conclusion, Neihardt
touchingly suggests that .Wahgn,.1ggk§ answers Black Elk's
question affirmatively (BES, 231-34). In recent years, Seeing
with a Native Eye, a popular anthology of ”Essays on Native
American Religion,” has even been ”Dedicated to Black Elk's
vision” (Capps, 1976).

Cast in imagery reflecting Lakota cognitive patterns,
Black Elk's vision is difficult to comprehend. Indeed, Black
Elk himself spent a lifetime trying to actualize its promise.

When DeHallie compared the stenographic record of Neihardt's
148

149

vision-interviews (1984, 94-99) with what was presented in
‘filggk__£15__fipg§k§, he found that a certain amount of
condensation was effected, few creative liberties taken, and
clarity of interpretation elusive for both texts. And yet, a
key to interpretation of the vision-—unknown to Neihardt and
overlooked by other commentators--mysteriously surfaced in
Black Elk's life at the time of his conversion.

In an attempt to communicate Catholic theology on a level
other than the abstract, early missionaries made use of a
picture catechism. ‘On a strip of paper one foot wide and five
feet long were contained illustrations depicting what
Christians have traditionally called ”salvation history”.
6011 described this rather captivating device the following
way (30):

Beginning with the Blessed Trinity and Creation at

the bottom of the strip, the student follows the

connected pictures of God in heaven at the top. The

Apostles Creed, the life and death of Christ, the

Church, the sacraments, the theological virtues, the

capital sins--all are there between two roads, a

golden road leading to heaven and a black one ending

in hell.
Native catechists were instructed as to the chart's meanings
by way of individual and group lessons conducted by priests,
and by written explanations in both English and Lakota (see
Appendix).

Upon first seeing the Two-Roads map and learning of its
history, I was struck by its colorful, peculiar,
characterization of human beings and non-human creatures. The

pantheon of Judaeo-Christian figures is arresting as

150

winged-angels and bat-like demons are pictured fluttering
about the course of world history. Crowds of people are
variously portrayed--at the mercy of natural disaster, in the
clutches of the leviathan monster, under the embrace of a
grandfather-creator, and all in seemingly constant motion (see
Appendix). In short, the Two-Roads map imaginativeley
captures in picture-form the basic worldview of traditional
Christian theology.

When I learned that Black Elk used the Two-Roads map
during his life as a catechist (see photo), it occurred to me
that many of the holy-man's references corresponded directly
to the old picture catechism. There were, in short,
surprising parallels. For example, thunder beings, a daybreak
star, flying men, tree imagery, circled villages, a black
road, a red road, friendly wings, an evil blue man living in
flames, a place where people moaned and mourned, emphasis on
the people's history, self-indulgent individuals, and other
more detailed segments of Black Elk's vision were either
explicitly or implicitly present on the two-roads map.

Perhaps the reason for this correspondence can be
explained through psychologist Carl Jung who so highly
regarded Black Elk Speaks, and was particularly interested in
the vision that Neihardt described. It represented, he
thought, an example of the ”collective unconscious," viz.,
that humanity ”shares a common, inborn, unconscious life
inherited from the distant past, expressed in archetypal
(universal) images and symbols” (Stauffer 1981, 56). Such a

151

speculation has some merit, but seems secondary to the more
positivistic explanation that follows.

Black Elk's closing utterances on Harney Peak allude to
the picture catechism as he prays about his vision. The

holy-man says to Wakan,2anka: ”The good road and the road of

difficulties you have made to cross; and where they cross, the
place is holy" (BES, 232). These 'road' references ,are made
not just here, but also in the earlier vision and later with
Brown (1953, 7n). However, all one can conclude from any of
these passages is that traditional Lakota simply symbolized
the virtuous life as being on a kind of "good red road" and
evil behavior as walking on a black one. Walker's
turn-of-the-century interviews (1980, 187, 189-90, 215, 232,
235) certainly verify the color associations, but in Black
Elk's case much more obtains.

That the good-evil dualism be found on the Two-Roads map
is not particularly note-worthy. What is important, on the
other hand, is the color symbolism and the notion of good and
evil "roads." Running the length of the map, for example, is
a "way of good” and a ”way of evil“d-both of which
intermittently touch the map's center whereupon is marked a
black and red road. With the former representing centuries
before Christ, and the latter representing centuries after
him, Black Elk's choice of symbols is very suggestive.

According to both the vision and the map, the forces of
evil have always contended with those of good. Fervently

wanting association with "the good," Black Elk implies the

152

Christ-event to be history's dividing mark. Hence, the red
road, which on the map is identified with the Christian era,
seems to be the path Black Elk prays his people might find and
follow.

In Neihardt's unedited transcript, Black Elk is reported
as describing his vocation in terms that are clearly
compatible with both the map and his long years of labor as a
catechist. He says:

'I had been appointed by my vision to be an
intercessor of my people . . . I'd bring my people

out of the black road into the red road. From my

experience and from what I know, and in recalling

the past from where I was at that time I could see

that it was next to impossible, but there was

nothing like trying. Of course probably the Spirit

world will help me . . . (DeHallie 1984, 293).”

It seems that Black Elk's self-understanding was that of a
leader of his people into the Christian era (given the imagery
at work here).

The holy-man's experience with Father Lindebner (and
subsequent work as a catechist) was accepted as a more sober,
or acceptable life-trajectory than the feverish activity of
his Ghost Dance involvement. That is, the "Messiah Craze"
might be seen as a theological transition-period. It served
as a prelude to Black Elk's later acceptance of a belief
system that bore concepts with which he was already familiar.
Horeover, presented pictorially, the earlier vision was
coherently ratified by being placed in a more global context.

Whatever its shortcomings, Neihardt's emphasis on such

universal concepts as right-conduct, human harmony, peace, and

153

friendship was in fact, an accurate reflection of the
holy-man's vision. The vision was, however, enhanced by the
substance of a ”salvation history” that was so succinctly
delineated in the Two-roads map.*

A patent difference between the two occurs when the
north-south red road and west-east black road of Black Elk's
vision do not bisect one another on the catechetical chart.
They appear as distinct routes separated by illustrations of
Christ's life (interestingly, though, the vision's imagery
depicts these roads in the form of a cross). So too, the
map's black road is not strictly designated as ”one of
troubles" any more than the red road is designated as 'good'
(although its Christian dimension is highlighted). And
finally, the catechism's specifically marked paths of good and
evil (colored yellow and green) only converge upon the red and
black roads.

Nonetheless, reflecting on his vision in later life,
Black Elk's comments to Neihardt sound as if he might just as
well have been talking about that Two—Roads map and the
instructions he received concerning it. He said that:

"It was the pictures I remembered and the words

that went with them . . . It was as I grew older

that the meanings came clearer and clearer out of

the pictures and the words; and even now I know that

more was shown to me than I can tell” (BES, 41).

Why the holy-man's friend, Standing Bear, was asked to sketch
*In an interview shortly before his death, Neihardt was asked

if Black Elk's Catholicism ”colored his thinking." His

response: ”It might have, here and there in spots, but
fundamentally no."

154

pictures of the vision is difficult to understand, as they are
not Black Elk's and are, in fact, distracting. Instead, were
the Two-Roads map included, this present discussion would have
been started years ago.

So intriguing are the parallels that a comparison of the
two could become a lengthy study in itself. In lieu of that,
however, suffice it to say here that the temptation exists to
find a complete one-to—one correspondence between the map and
Black Elk's vision. Yet, as much as the ”vision” of the
picture catechism and Black Elk's vision bear similarity, they
are nuanced enough to cause some hesitation in seeing things
which might not actually be present. Ultimately, though, this
overall speculation is confirmed by Lucy and acquaintances of
Black Elk.

Maybe Neihardt unknowingly transcribed Black Elk's
description of the map as the holy-man blended into it an
earlier vision. Perhaps Black Elk condensed a number of
visions, and used as an inspirational force the Two-Roads map
from which he taught for three decades. Or did time simply
obscure the vision he once had, so the holy-man wove into his
account some elements from the catechism? Comparison of the
two requires the reconstruction of such possibilities (and
others).

When Joseph Epes Brown visited Black Elk some years after
the Neihardt interviews occurred, the holy-man was still
"haunted" by his vision—-whatever the source of its accretions

(Brown 1953, xv). Neihardt did not, at least, fabricate its

155

impact. As was common in Lakota society, the holy-man had
received a vision, and it provided him an abiding sense of
mission.

Black Elk's poignant religious experience during boyhood
set him in quest of its fulfillment. Thirty years later,
after much heartbreak and disappointment, he found himself
doctoring a dying child near Payabya. The encounter with
Father Lindebner, and subsequent exposure to the
strangely-familiar picture catechism, confirmed in what
direction the rest of his life would lead. Black Elk's vision
seems to have been a foreshadowing of what was later amplified
via Ghost Dance themes and the Two—Roads map. Whether this be
mysticism, clairvoyance, or coincidence is, ultimately, an
engaging speculation that will never be closed.

Although charting the cognitive patterns at work in Black
Elk's life is not an exact science, the suggestions here seem
likely. The vision's similarity to the picture catechism
underscored its prophetic and mystical impact throughout the
early-adult years. Whether the Neihardt account is Black
Elk's superimposition of the map on his vision (or vice-versa)
will probably never be known for sure; but if some overlay was
effected, it was done so because the holy-man regarded the two
as part of a continuum. The accounts which follow refer to
Black Elk's recasting of the original vision--a vision whose
entire meaning could only be understood in light of the

Two-Roads map.

156

Lucy Speaks

I remember.Ate Eteptggala used to bring a kind
of map--with a red road and a yellow road on it.

And my father taught me what it was--the good road
and the bad road. He would pray "canku wan luta
akan napata--on the red road we want to walk--l, my
relatives, my children, and grandchildren." he
learned the idea of the black road when he was a
catechist.

One time Father Lindebner came and said ”Lucy,
let me see what you learned about this map." Right
away I rolled it out and said "Father, sit down.
I'm going to teach you something.” My father had
taught me about it and I was really good at telling
about it.

Ben Harrowbone Speaks

John

Black Elk used the two roads map to teach the
old people. He would show that in the beginning,
God created everything. And then all these pictures
would help them understand easier. He would teach
the old people about the seven sacraments, and that
cross. Crucified, hanged between heaven and earth,
was the Son of God.

So on every church you see a cross--great
worship. This is why Christ came: to build His
Church on a rock of strength, to stand in place of
Him. Nick Black Elk explained this Church to the
people--this great Church. He explained and they
understood.

Lone Goose Speaks

He'd teach them that map many times. He
carried one. So everytime we go to teach, he'd go
down the ‘Two Roads. He taught them how to go to
heaven and how to be a Christian man. On another
road. they would go to Hell.

Father gave him a‘Two Roads map, and he taught
from it the rest of his life. One road was black
and is the devil. The other is yellow--the very
good road to heaven. He'd show the people that some
go this way, and some go the black road. Some
people believed it and turned around and became a
catechist. He turned lots of souls to our Lord away
from hell.

If he took it in his grave, I don't know. I
didn't see that road-map anymore after he died.

Lucy Speaks

157

He and Father Buechel would talk. They talked
about my father's visions . . . and the Sun Dance,
and all the Indian ceremonies which my father said
were connected to Christianity. My father said we
were like the Israelites, the Jews, waiting for
Christ. And some Jews didn't want to accept Jesus
as God.

He said all these ceremonies connected.
Somehow he knew that in the future our Lord Jesus
Christ would come one day to his people. Well,
actually they didn't see him but he did come. And
the missionaries brought the teachings of Our Lord.
They knew, somehow, in the future they would learn
this. And they somehow already practiced it in the
Sun Dance. That's the way he took it.

Like they say ”Pagan way, adoring the sun'--but
it's not that. He told me. They pray and say to
the Great Spirit ”Without any sinful thoughts or
actions, we're going to do this for you.” That's
the way they feel when they do these Sun Dance
ceremonies. They purify themselves--that's why they
wear the sage crown which resembles the crown our
Lord wore-~and they start dancing. So the Indian,
early before sunrise, had to stand there and had to
go with the sun--watching it until it went down.
That's the suffering, you see. And some of them
even shed their blood. Christ did that too, before
he died on the cross. That was the way he
suffered.‘

No woman was allowed to go near because Eve was
the first one to come with sin. That's why women
were behind the men and weren't allowed to take part
in the Sun Dance. But I don't know if my father
totally understood it that way. Only one place
could a woman be a part of it, and she had to be a
virgin.

This Sun Dance made them suffer from sunup til
sundown. They prayed to the Great Spirit and
suffered from fasting for three days and not
drinking water. Our Lord fasted forty days. They
want the Great Spirit to accept their sacrifice
because what they want to do is for the sake of
their people, for their sick ones, for a richer
life, enough to eat, and enough health. That's the
way they pray, so the Great Spirit will watch and
take care of them.

So Christianity, they already did practice
it--in a way that wasn't really too much against the
rules of the Church. Of course, there were a lot of
ceremonies along with it--like the Fathers have

*Brown, Joseph Epes, 1953, pp. 67-100 gives Black Elk's
description of the Sun Dance, while Leslie Spier, 1921, gives
a cross-cultural analysis of this ceremony.

158

rules of the Church. Of course, there were a lot of

ceremonies along with it-—like the Fathers have

masses and all these special days and celebrations.

But still, my father was pretty much the new

religion.

Black Elk and Traditional Lakota Religious Practice

Central to the spirituality of Plains Indians, in
general, and the Lakota, in particular, is the Sacred Pipe
(ganngnpa Wakgn). Use of this ritual instrument was a crucial
feature of every religious ceremony--well reported by Brown in
his work with Black Elk. Reference to so sacred an object as
simply a "peace pipe" (and such a description is frequent) is
quite inadequate.

The well-known legend says that Buffalo Cow Woman (a
heavenly, mysterious, and beautiful lady) came many
generations ago, bearing what appeared to be a child. In the
course of events, however, the bundle she brought was
unwrapped and found to hold the Sacred Calf Pipe. As time
passed, the holy lady revealed how the Pipe was to be used and
what rites (seven in all) were to be observed by the tribe.
Furthermore, all subsequent pipe usage was to recall this
special revelation. Regarded as a particularly sacred and
unique gift to the Lakota, a ritual pipe became synonymous
with Plains religious practice (small pipes were used for
leisurely occasions). Pipe smoking was regarded, then, as
insuring the Lakota of communication with Hanan Tanka-

Among the early missionaries, attitudes concerning the

Pipe varied--paralleling the thought of modern Lakota people

159

themselves. Some regarded the Pipe as part of their religious
legacy, while others saw it as disfuntional in a
twentieth-century world. Arguments regularly arise today in
Native contexts pitting Christian tradition (or even Peyote
tradition) against the Pipe tradition--each side frequently
claiming the two are irreconcilable (Steltenkamp 1982, 21-49).
The accounts which follow will doubtlessly generate further
discussion in such circles.

Ben Harrowbone Speaks

A heavenly woman once came and gave us a pipe.
Every family had to keep a pipe of its own-~use it
every day, at night too. That woman gave it to us
and told us to talk to the Almighty--pray for
whatever we need--for rain or good crops. You
didn't have to see any great vision. The Almighty
hears you. "Take this pipe. Pray that He hears
you.” That's what the holy woman said. That kind
of order was given our grandfathers. So they
followed it.

Before he converted, Nick Black Elk talked to
Almighty God with that pipe. He learned that the
same God talked to white people. That's why those
catechists believed in the Catholic Church. Nobody
said: "oh, you fool you!” No. That's the great
Almighty you are respecting and honoring--in a new
way. And just as we were brought the sacred pipe,
we now had the sacred bread from heaven.*

Nick Black Elk used to use that pipe in his
wapiya**--and he believed in it. At that time there
weren't any doctors, so different ceremonies were
used for healing. So I think Black Elk worked
according to the Almighty. These old people lsed
this pipe and prayed to one Spirit. That was tieir
foundation. That's what they said.

The catechists would get together, have
meetings, encourage each other--show interest in one
another. At one such gathering, Nick Black Elk
stood up and said: 'Yuwipi come from Santee. We
have a pipe here. We use that. God gave us that
pipe from heaven through a woman. Two young men

*Ben's reference here is to the Catholic sacrament of the
Eucharist, or Holy Communion.
**i.e., ”curing ceremony".

160

met her while out hunting. One of them had bad
thoughts about her and was punished. But the other
one was a good man. She told him 'I want to explain
to the Lakota people how to pray.‘ She brought that
pipe and gave it to an old man--a good man with a
good conscience.

“That pipe--it's a road to take--a road of
honesty—~a road to heaven. It teaches how to lead a
good life, like the ten commandments. They
understood what that woman was saying; and that
worship was my formation--my foundation. But my
foundation is deepening.

'God made me to know Him, love Him, serve Him.
To make sure I do this, God sent us His son. The
old way is good. God prepared us before the
missionary came. Our ancestors used the pipe to
know God. That's a foundation! But from the old
country came Christ from heaven--a wonderful
thing--the Son of God. And the Indian Cares about
this.

”This is not our home. Our home is the new
world coming. We come here, lead a good life, and
follow the good road. That's the only way to save
ourselves and see our relatives again. This body
goes but the spirit keeps on. And if we take the
right road, try and lead a good life, be honest, and
live as brothers in one relationship, we will see
our relatives. We will see God our relative. The
evil spirit is against what I say. The evil spirit
is like Iktomi who fools people.'*

This Nick Black Elk, he was kind of a young
fellow. He had catechist instruction. And one
brother--his name was Brother Graf--taught him
Indian songs like Jesus Qantg.** So Nick picked up
some . young fellows and taught them some
songs--Church songs. And these young fellows learn
quickly. They can think without Bible. Word spread
that "Black Elk is going to teach the boys Church
songs, Catholic songs.” So while these boys went
into the tipi and sang, the people laid on their
backs out side just listening. That was the first
time they introduced religious songs."

Lucy Speaks
He didn't have a pipe until after he was

*"Iktomi" is the spider, the trickster character of the
Lakota.

**Sung to the tune of the more traditional Christian hymn
"Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow,” Jesus Cante (heart
of Jesus) is still popular among older Lakota Catholics.

161

retired from his missionary work. They used to have
a little pipe--which he and my mother used to smoke,
and he was never keeper of the Sacred Calf Pipe. He
used his own when he prayed to the Great
Spirit--nothing else. He never did tell me about
the meaning of the pipe. He'd just say it was
something that was given to them, so it was supposed
to be sacred. You pray with it.

I think it was at the first Sun Dance in 1928
that my father met Elk Head. He came over to our
camp and my mother told me "Don't go in front of
this man. He's the one that had the pipe, that
sacred pipe.” And here my father said: "Shake
hands with him.” So I shook hands with him. And
today they keep that pipe up in Green Grass.

I think we accepted that pipe from the Great
Spirit through a sacred lady who brought it to all
the human beings. We say that we Christian women
should be like her. She told the people that a man
who has the pipe should pray with it.

Just like commandments, she told them that men
should be peaceful men, nice men. There should be
no quarrels or arguments, no committing any kind of
adultery, and no feelings to criticize. The Great
Spirit created all things through his power so man
has to love all the creatures--even the trees. This
is what the Pipe Lady instructed. Father Beuchel
accepted the Blessed Virgin Mary as the same one who
brought the pipe, and that was what we always
thought.

If it is not evident in the text, the tone of Lucy's

narrative suggested that contrary to his wife's sentiment,
Black Elk insisted on relating to the keeper of the pipe in a
less formal fashion--free of the strictures felt by Lucy's
mother.

Prior to her death in 1936, Martha Bad Warrior--the 99
year-old keeper of the pipe at that time--entrusted to Wilbur
A. Riegert what might be regarded as privileged information
concerning the pipe- MW
published posthumously in Rapid City, South Dakota, is

Wilbur's account of his meeting with Martha Bad Warrior. A

162

limited number of books was printed of this account in 1975.
Green Grass, South Dakota is a secluded community located

on the Cheyenne River Reservation, home of the Hiniconju
branch of western Lakota. The original sacred pipe is under
the care of Stanley Looking Horse and his son Arvol--its
nineteenth keeper. Kept in a small, rectangular, locked, red
shed, the pipe bundle can only be approached after undergoing
the ritual purification of the sweatlodge--a ceremony Stanley
prayerfully conducted for myself and one other person (1982,
38-49).

THE VISION'S TREE IMAGERY

At the end of.nla:k_Elk_£neaks, the holy-man is pictured
looking back on his life and tearfully saying to .flakan, Tank;
that ”the tree has never bloomed” (233). He goes on to plead:

"It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still
lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill
with singing birds" (233). Apart from this famous passage,
the unedited manuscript contains repeated references to the
"tree".

The account is emotionally powerful with Black Elk
depicted as a man whose vision would die with him. Readers
presume the holy-man's references are to the rebirth of a
tribal past that is no more, and readers are moved to feel the
sadness Black Elk speaks. As DeHallie observes (1984, 56):
"With its unrelenting sense of defeat," the book (and
especially its conclusion) ”became an eloquent literary

restatement of the theme of the vanishing American." In

163

contrast to Sialm's discouragement (reported earlier), I (like

so many others) was gripped by the concluding remarks, and was

eager to hear their fuller explication by Lucy.

Inquiring about the tree imagery, I must have revealed a
sense of melancholy because Lucy had a ready response. She
dispelled the tone that characterized my inquisitiveness
because she wanted me to understand the reality of her
father's thought and not the golden-age dream I had previously
entertained. Her verbatim account here (and elsewhere) may
sound dogmatic, but its tone was casually matter-of-fact.
Lucy often mentioned that her words would probably be ignored
like her father's. Nonetheless, she wanted posterity to know
her father's true sentiments which she here tried to
faithfully relate.

Noteworthy in the following section are Lucy's
tradition-based understandings of Lakota prescriptions for
marriage (discussed earlier). In this regard, her comments
are normative for the older generation while seldom, if ever,
heard among younger people. Curiously enough, recent evidence
suggests that cousins-marrying-cousins is on the rise, and is
no longer associated with a disaster-bearing taboo (DeHallie,
1974).

Lakota acceptance of Christianity initially fell within
Roman Catholic, Episcopalian, and Presbyterian traditions.
The former remain the dominant groupings in spite of
subsequent exposure to other denominations. As elsewhere,

ecumenism has grown over the years and a spirit of

164

inter-denominational cooperation for the common good has been
fostered.*

Lucy Speaks

The Great Spirit has promised one day that the
tree of my father's vision was to root, grow, and
blossom--to give out its flourishing sweet scent for
everyone, and become a symbol of life. I know this.
He meant it's like the Catholic faith. Our Lord
told St. Peter to establish the religion just like
that. The Great Spirit gave the Sioux people a
knowledge of Christianity through the sacred pipe.
But this tree would grow and spread out strong,
flowing, branches. He had that vision and learned
the tree was to be the Christian life of all people.

At the time before he died, he had a sad tale.
He said he didn't do his part in accomplishing this
and that the tree was dying. People were not
walking the right path. But he still hoped the tree
would be able to give forth its branches before it
was entirely dead. I know this is what he meant.

The time I got married to Leo was on August 18,
1929 at St. Agnes Chapel--since my father wanted me
to be married in the Church. I had to marry this
man because he did a lot of favors for my folks
since they were old. He used to go over there, cut
wood, and haul water for them. We had to get water
from the creek. My husband had been an Episcopal,
so I thought "If you like him enough, okay, but he
has to become a Catholic,” so he went and joined the
Catholic Faith before our wedding. Our celebrating
priest was Father Sialm, S.J., and my father was
real happy afterwards. He honored us by giving a
big dinner, or reception.

From this marriage we had ten children, but
during the depression we lost six boys. So there
are just four surviving now. Leo's grandfather was
related to my mother--a cousin--so I'm a first or
second cousin to Leo's father. I think that's why
we've had tragedy in our family--because we're blood
related. A tough life both of us had, but he's now
resting in peace.** The only disappointing thing is

*Becoming a reservation in 1878, Pine Ridge was given to the
Episcopalian Church through the Grant Administration's "Peace
Policy." Lakota requests for ”Blackrobes" was approved, and
so the Jesuits arrived during the 80's (their predecessor
being the famous Pierre DeSmet, S.J.).

**Leo died November 21, 1974.

165

that my father and mother didn't see my
grandchildren. My father and mother died before my
children grew up. But my father did see my brother
Ben's grandchildren. He saw three of them, so I
know he was happy to see four generations of Black

Elks.

CHAPTER IX
RETIREMENT YEARS

Following his retirement from Church work, Black Elk
restricted his activity to more leisurely pursuits during warm
weather months. He took particular pleasure in the
opportunity of mixing with tourists who flocked to the Rapid
City area. His son, Ben, later assumed such a role and was
very popular with visitors who toured the Ht. Rushmore region.

This summer involvement was, for Black Elk, a welcome and
enjoyable reprieve from the sweltering sameness of summer life
on the reservation. Sociable by nature, the old Medicine
Han/preacher was delighted to appear in public with his
grandson and simulate scenes of traditional Lakota life at one
of the area's popular tourist attractions. DeHallie
speculated that Black Elk's motivation for doing "these sacred
rituals appears to have been to teach white audiences that the
old-time Lakota religion was a true religion, not devil
worship as the missionaries claimed (1984, 66)”. If such an
underlying reason prompted her father's participation, Lucy
was not aware of it. The pageant was, rather, an opportunity
for her "dad" to "get out” in his old-age.

Meanwhile, younger catechists were now undertaking
responsibilities formerly handled by Black Elk. They passed
on, as best they could, the religious tenets he preached for
so many years. Since it was customary for older persons to
speak at various assemblies (a time-honored practice still in
effect), Black Elk was now granted this privilege and always

accepted such invitations with much enthusiasm.
166

167

Neihardt had wistfully characterized the older Lakota as
having little to do ”but wait for yesterday"--a poetic view of
the senior generation who gathered on occasion to
nostalgically reminisce about their younger days. Black Elk
was not spared this--as seen in his grand-daughter's account.
In his declining years, the holy-man was not burdened with the
more physically taxing household chores, and was thus free to
visit families whose ancestors he had known from another age.

The presence of the old warrior and revered catechist was
welcome, and his visits uplifting. People knew him as one who
had lived through the ”good old days," yet still managed to
kindle hope for a happier future. Nick Black Elk was a
special guest at homes, and seemed to be regarded as a
blessing the people knew would not be theirs much longer.

Lucy Speaks

"After he quit being a catechist and had time
of his own, he wanted to join in recreational
activities. For instance, one time there was a
dance being held at the house of one of his older
friends. They didn't use to have meeting halls like
they do now, so dances were held at homes. Anyway,
he wanted to go to that dance real badly. My mother
didn't want to go and I didn't either becaue I was
pregnant at the time. I wouldn't go in that wagon
for anything.

”Finally, my husband talked about going and my
father said: 'We can saddle a horse and we'll ride
together. I'll ride on the back.‘ So they both
did. It was quite a sight to see because my father
wore his Indian costume to that dance. There he
was--behind my husband on that horse. As soon as he
got on, my father kicked the horse and it got
spooked and started running with my husband and him
on it. He let out a whoop like in the old
times--hollering out like a cowboy. His little
bells were jingling and ringing all the way. Hy
father yelled out: 'We're going to fall,' but Leo
shouted 'Hang on, father-in-law, I don't want you to

168

fall off!‘ Later on, my mother got after my father
and said 'You could have got hurti'

In about 1936*, he started working for Alex
Duhammel at the Sitting Bull Cave on Highway 16.
There was a showplace where they put on a pageant
for tourists and my father had a main part in it--as
medicine man. The pageant would show him doctoring
a little boy (which was my son Georgie), preparing a
death scaffold, and leading the Sun Dance. He would
also pray with the pipe and smoke it. But it was
just a show and he never meant it. The women got a
dollar and a quarter and the men got a dollar and a
half. It was during depression but they made quite
a bit of money on his performance.

My father was a good friend of Gutzon Borglum,
too, and he and Georgie would perform for crowds at
Mt. Rushmore while it was still not finished.**
After they finished carving Lincoln, they had a big
dedication because Lincoln was the last one. Hy
father went up there in a cable car with my
sister-in-law's sister and my boy. They were all
dressed in Indian and my father sang up there on top
of Lincoln's head. But by 1947, he was too old to
continue doing this work.

My mother died February 19, 1941 and my father
took it hard for awhile afterwards. They lived
northwest of Oglala at the time, so he moved back to
Handerson to stay with Ben, or my brother Nick's
family, or myself. On the Decoration Day after she
died, my father was asked to preach at the cemetery.
Of course, he was now getting old so he wasn't
really strong. Anyway, he spoke out under the sun
for too long a time because when we brought him back
home he collapsed. But that's the way he was. Even
though he retired, he would still occasionally give
a speech--a good one too.

Families still assemble in great numbers on Decoration
Day to care for the graves of deceased relatives. Generally,
such a gathering will have a priest present who conducts a
prayer service or celebrates a Hass for all in attendance. A
"feed” follows this annual ceremony and so, the day is quite a
*DeMallie says Black Elk started work for the pageant (begun
in 1927) in 1935 or earlier (1984, 63).

**John Gutzon de la Mothe Borglum was the chief sculptor at
Ht. Roshmore. He died in 1941.

169

social occasion. When younger, Black Elk was a regular
participant in these activities.

THE DEATH OF LUCY'S MOTHER

The Inn13n_fign§1nel, reported the death of Black Elk's

wife in a two-page obituary of November, 1941--excerpts of

which follow.

Brings White was a strong and active member of the
(St. Mary's Society and set an attractive example of
what a Catholic woman should be . . . Even during
these last few years, when both Black Elk and Brings
White have been enfeebled by age and illness, their
home has been a kind of mission center where the
Sioux in the neighborhood gather to pray and sing
hymns. Whether it was a tent or a cabin, it has
always been a welcome home for the missionary.

On one occasion, Father Henry Westropp drove up to
the church at St. Agnes Mission rather late. In
those days the missionaries made their rounds by
means of horses and buggies, often travelling many
miles and sometimes reaching their destination after
every one had gone to bed. Father Westropp stopped
his team a few feet from Brings White's tent and as
usual shouted out: 'Tunwin,' meaning, 'Aunt.‘ . . .
This awakened Brings White who, recognizing the
voice, called back 'Han, mitoska,‘ meaning, 'Yes, my
nephew.'

Again, Father cheerfully spoke out: 'Tunwin, wanagi
ki palek cek ama u pelo,‘ meaning, 'Aunt, the ghosts
have pushed me here' . . . Father Westropp knew that
this expression would amuse his hostess. He always
had something clever to say. This is why the
Indians called him Little Owl.

Brings White, of course, was always delighted to
receive her 'nephew' and, regardless of the hour,
would prepare a real Sioux meal for her visitor.
All the interesting and amusing stories which had
been collected by both since the last visit were
told and sometimes all would laugh themselves to
sleep.

I am reminded of all this, because just lately good
old Brings White passed away peacefully to her

170

reward. Though her death caused great sorrow to
Black Elk and her children and many friends, they
were consoled by her faith and piety as she received
the Holy Food for the last time and the Sacrament of
the dying.

The Sentinel carried a photograph of Black Elk's wife and
family-~the reporter being Stephen HcNamara, S.J., a priest

whose work began in Pine Ridge in 1928.

Neihardt's "Postscript" concluding Black Elk Speaks

presents a striking example of Black Elk's peculiar
relationship to nature. He is portrayed as asking for a sign
of encouragement and, in the end, he receives it. This type
of incident is,however, not uncommon. In discussing the use
of the pipe with different individuals, I repeatedly heard
stories of its power to control the weather. Hence, this
additional account did not come as a surprise.

Lucy Speaks

Hy daughter Regina always remembers how often
my father would go outside and look up at the sky.
He would rub his hair backwards saying ”Hey, hey,
hey, hey,” and would know if a storm was
coming-~even if the sky was all blue. It would come
if he said it would.

And that reminds me of the time we were going
to have a bad storm--a big thunderstorm. It looked
like it was going to have a tornado in it. We
didn't have a cellar, only a small grain house to
hide in. Hy father was a pretty old man at the
time.

He took his pipe upon a hill and stood facing
the west. He then sang this song.

A Thunderbird, that is the nation!
A Thunderbird, that is the nation!
A Thunderbird, that is the nation!
The people, you are alive!

A nation that will live well!

After he was finished, you should have seen those

171

clouds. One went off this way, one off that way,
and the storm was gone. They must have heard him.

Hy father must have sung that around my kids
because one time we went to town and left my oldest
daughter with my in-laws. They put her in the big
house and called another uncle of Leo's to go and
sit with her. When he arrived he heard her singing
that song. And here the thunder and the wind
stopped. We laughed when we heard about that.

My father was a patient man, and sometimes I
compare him with my father-in-law who was just the
opposite. He would crab at everything as he got
older. But my father never complained. Hy father
was happy all the time. You can see how my
father-in-law's son is taking after his father.*

My father still liked to visit other people.
Even though he retired from his catechist work, he
liked to go to sick people and pray for them. If
anybody died in a family, he'd visit that family and
speak with them and console them. He did a lot of
that even though he was retired.

When our family would get together on

Thanksgiving Day, my father used to say this prayer.
I remember it:**

I am talking to you, Grandfathr Great Spirit,
on this day.

Pitifully, I sit here.

I am speaking for my relatives, my children,
my grandchildren, and all my
relatives--wherever they might be.

Hear me, Grandfather, Great Spirit.

With your help, our needs are taken care of.
You have helped us in the time of want during
the past,

And on this day we wish to thank you.

Hear me, 0 Great Spirit.

This day is a day of thanksgiving.

The nations of living things the world
over--and we the two-leggeds, along with the
children and the smaller ones with them-~come
to you today to express thanks.

In the future, make us see again a red day
*Leo was still alive at the time this interview was taken, and

Lucy's reference is to him. His mood was not pleasant this
particular day.

**This is a translation of the prayer Lucy uttered in Lakota,
the content of which she had committed to memory.

172

of good.

In the past, you have preserved us from evil
on this red road. Keep us on this road, and
do not let us see anything wrong.

I, my children, and my grandchildren shall
walk--led like children by your hand. You
have helped us in all things. And
Grandfather, Great Spirit, through your power
alone we have survived.

Grandfather, Great Spirit, you have come and
put us down--gathered together on mother
earth. And while we continue in this world
you provide food for all living creatures.
So we give you thanks on this day,
Grandfather,

Take pity on me.

One day, we shall go and arrive at the end of
the road.

In that future, we shall be without any sin
at all.

And so it will be in the same manner for my
grandchildren and relatives who will follow
as well. We give you thanks, Grandfather
Great Spirit. I am sending this prayer to
you.

Lucy's daughter, Norma, recalled these childhood memories
of her grandfather. ”Georgie" is her now-grown brother.

Norma Speaks

After I grew up and went to school I found out
my grandfather was pretty famous. He was an
important person but I remember when I was a small
girl he had a lot of time for me. We used to have a
real small place and my parents made him sleep on a
bed while my brother and I slept on the floor. He'd
say t) me: ”If you want to sleep on this bed, crawl
in." So I always crawled in with him. He always
felt sorry for me.

Hy grandfather always used to babysit for us
when my parents went out so I'd say to him lots of
times: ”I want to ride a horse." So he'd catch our
horse named Brownie, put a halter on it, and set me
on top. He'd take me all over these hills. And
while he led the horse, he was either always
reciting his prayerbook or saying the rosary.

Real old men would come to the house and sit on

173

the floor in a circle telling stories. and smoking.
They used old Indian words which I couldn't
understand, but I would sit with them all the time
next to my grandfather. He might have been a famous
person because of those books he wrote, but I always

remember him being around me and concerned about me
until he died.

Georgie remembers when my parents bought him a
tricycle, my grandfather would watch over him as he

rode it. Hy grandfather had a cane and he'd watch

Georgie to see that he stayed on the road. If he

went off the road, my grandfather would hook the

wheel with his cane and make him go straight. He'd

pray as he did that too.*

The Grandparents of today were young adults toward the
end of Black Elk's life, yet old enough to understand why his
presence commanded respect. Their religious instruction was
administered by younger catechists and priests a generation
removed from the holy-man whose boyhood friends were gradually
disappearing.

Black Elk is remembered as walking from his house (a
distance of two miles) to Church every Sunday, walking-stick
in hand. A Handerson resident, now aged himself, recalled
helping the old catechist rise from the communion rail, as
infirmity took its toll. Pat Red Elk recalled growing up
during this period, and his account is representative of
others from his peer group.

Pat Red Elk Speaks
Even though they didn't have any formal
education, those old converts were really trained to
preach. They'd say that Saint John says this here

and there, and when I'd get the Bible and read

*Norma Regina Looks Twice, grand-daughter of Black Elk, died
in the fall of 1978.

174

it--they were right! That's what was written. I
read Scripture but I can't remember the right words
like they used to be able to do. Yes, those old
converts could really talk--especially about
religion. And they'd just really give you "the
works)" They really knew what to say.

Nick was a catechist and when he got up he
really preached. People sat there and just listened
to him. They could picture what he was talking
about. I remember one time when he was pretty old,
he really bore down on them. He said:

The older people who constructed and kept up
the Church are all fading away . . . and the
new generation isn't continuing the work that
the people did. When I come to Church in
wintertime, there's no firewood in that
little box there (he'd point to the wood box)
and tears come to my eyes.

Nowadays we have education, but we're not that good.

On Sunday morning you'd see Nick walking down
the road from where Ben lived-~two, three miles
outside of Handerson. In wintertime he didn't
hardly come--too cold. But summertime, spring, and
Fall, he'd be walking. He was old, so he got an
early start and wouldn't catch a ride. And every
Sunday, he'd join up with John Lone Goose right
around where the store is now and they'd say the
rosary together. One would begin and say "Hail
Mary." The other would finish the prayer. By the
time they got to Church, they had said the whole
thing.

CHAPTER X
LAST DAYS OF THE AGED HOLY-HAN

Despite ill health, Black Elk appears to have lived out
his remaining days in the same contemplative spirit that
characterized his earlier life. Having confronted death in
other, more dramatic contexts, the holy-man was now resigned
to patiently await its final visit. What restlessness he
experienced came in the form of physical discomfort, viz., a
stroke that his aged cousin, Little Warrior, was instrumental
in relieving.

The Lakota word for stroke is nanagiktgpj--from the root
word wanagi. A literal translation of the word for stroke
would be "killing of the soul"--an etymology which, if little
else, describes the perceived seriousness of the condition.
Little Warrior's skill in effecting relief for Black Elk
reflects the rich tradition of healing ceremonies developed by
the Lakota. Little Warrior's cure, it seems, brought
rehabilitation to Black Elk and so, one should not find it
surprising that a considerable number of 'traditional, Native
"home remedies” are still .used in modern reservation
households (Vogel, 1970).

Lucy goes on to say that her father regarded his
impending death with calm anticipation. He knew that life's
circle was nearly complete. Not immediately apparent in the
following narrative is that Black Elk received a phantom

visitor who was seen only by him. That such an occurrence

175

176

take place did not meet with disbelief.on the part of his
family, as such phenomena seem to have been understood as
simply another dimension, or awareness, of life that was

possessed by persons with heightened religious consciousness.

Lucy Speaks

One day, in the spring of 1948, it was really
slippery. My father went outside, lost his footing,
fell, and broke his hip. He was around eighty then,
and from that time until his death he was bedridden.
We put him in a wheelchair when he wanted to sit up
or go outside. And after that happened, he said he
was ready to accept his Creator's call anytime. But
for me, he said I should try and carry on the works
of the Church and go to Mass very often.

When he had that accident, he tried to argue
with me saying he was alright. But we took him to
the hospital anyway. While he was there his
tuberculosis caused him some trouble but not
serious. He caught that when he was young. He also
had a stroke while there and was given the last
rites for the third time in his life. The second
time was when he was sick and I've already told you
about the first time.

Anyway, he recovered and came to stay here at
our house. Even though he couldn't walk, he still
prayed and sang. There was never a day he
complained about his suffering. He'd sit praying
and he'd tell us ”never fail to miss a day without
your prayers. God will take care of you and reward
you for this. Say the rosary too, because that is
one of the powerful prayers of Our Lord's mother."
That's how he was.

He was uncomfortable at our house because it
was so small and hot during the summer. So he asked
if he could go back to the hospital where it was
cooler. That's when he moved to my brother Ben's
house--where he stayed until he died.

At times, I'd just go over to him and try to
make him feel good. He got to be so blind that he
couldn't read his Indian prayer books, but he had
learned them by heart. He seemed to always have a
rosary in his hands, and even though he was sick
you'd never hear him complain. When he came to stay
at our place, we had to pray. He never forgot.

Joseph Epes Brown related to his classes at Indiana

University that he once had occasion to go to Denver with

177

Black Elk. Stopping in a diner frequented by social outcasts,
Black Elk left a memorable impression on observers who saw him

pray before eating. The Indian prayer book Lucy recalls her

father as memorizing was the Snzgum Qprdag Lgkgta Wogekiye na

WWW . a compact
little book of 386 pages published by the "Central Bureau of

the Catholic Central Verein of America" in St. Louis,

Hissouri.

TRADITIONAL MEDICINE COMES TO BLACK ELK'S AID

When my father was released from the sanatorium
and was well enough to stay at our home, he was also
partially paralyzed.* His mouth was crooked due to
the stroke and he had trouble eating. So,as I said,
I used to sit down and talk to him to make him feel
better (because he was all by himself).

One day I asked him: "Dad, I wonder if this
man you call your cousin would be able to bring you
out of this stroke?” You see, before my father got
crippled he used to often talk with a man named
Little Warrior--and this is who I meant. Little
Warrior was a Catholic and did gangs) uanixa (spirit
ceremony of healing). And he was good at that they
told me.

My father didn't really want this, but he had
respect for his cousin and myself so he agreed to go
through with it. I called my brother Ben who was
really after this kind of thing--curious about it
too--and we arranged to have it at my house. We
prepared the sweat lodge, but my father didn't go
in--just three older men. He didn't want that
doctoring done on him.

When we were ready to have that ceremony,
Little Warrior said: ”You know these other types of
medicine men and_yngipi men--they always tell you to
close the windows so there will be dark. They tell
you to take down from the wall the holy pictures and
rosary. I say 'No.' Those are the ones we are
going to pray to. Just watch that rosary while this
is going on. If you have a rosary, you'd better say
it while I'm doctoring your father.” That's what
Little Warrior said about our picture of the Sacred

*He was treated for tuberculosis.

178

Heart and this big rosary we had on the wall.*

Well, I must have really believed him because I
took my rosary and sat there saying it. Pretty
soon, the main time comes for those little spirits
to doctor my father. All at once, I'm in the middle
of my rosary and I remember what Little Warrior had
told me. So I looked up at our rosary on the wall
and you ought to have seen those little things on
each bead. Those little lights--there must be a
bunch of them--were all glowing on the beads. And
that cross, it just glowed. And the holy
picture--the sacred picture--those little things
just sat around it. I think they were worshipping
the picture.

I noticed after everything was over that my
father's mouth had straightened out so he could eat.
Before that, I had a hard time feeding him. My
father, after it was all over, said to Little
Warrior: "Yes, I'll admit you're good at it. But
next time you come to doctor me, don't let those
little spirits treat me so roughly. They were
really treating me harsh. I'm really tired." Mind
you, his mouth was straight and he could eat after
that ceremony.

And that's when I got confused. I asked my
father: 'Why in the world--how is it that you
became a Catholic catechist?" Then he told me about
his conversion. I had heard the story when I was in
the teen age, but I never paid any attention to it.
So I was a little older when he explained these
things to me. It was after I got married, then I
realized and understood these things about my
father.

Little Warrior told me: ”In my life, there are
good spirits and bad spirits. When you pray, the
good spirit is always going to help you. In the
morning, when you get up, stand in the doorway and
pray that the day is a nice quiet day. Give thanks
for the day—~for coming through the night." I guess
he was glad that he slept through the night and woke
up again.

He also said: "Don't go out at night too
much-~that's when the bad spirits are about. If
there's anything to eat, like nice fruit or any kind
of meat, just put it out there and say 'That's for
you good spirits' and say 'I want this--a nice day'
or make some other request. Break off a chunk of

*Powers suggested in his study of ynpiui that "no one wearing
a (Catholic) medal would be permitted to stay in the meeting.
One man had a rosary in his pocket but was afraid to say so.
Soon something in the darkness picked him up and threw him out
the window" (1982, 54). Obviously, different approaches to
the rite exist, given Little warrior's use of such objects.

179

bread and place it out for them. And in the morning
take a cup of water. Drink that water--because God
has given you that cleansing water for you to drink.
Just take a cup and thank the Great Spirit for the
day--then pray for the day. And then when you lay
down, thank the Great Spirit for the day He has
given you." My father did this, so I try to do that
too.

One time my husband had to stay home while I
took Georgie and Regina up to the Custer celebration
of ”Gold Discovery Days."* Leo was working then for
Albert Yankton putting up hay. So my husband would
stay here at home all by himself--sleeping here at
night and going to help Albert in the morning. They
always helped each other.

Anyway, he came home one evening and it was
still light outside. It wasn't quite dark. Leo was
coming down the hill toward the house and he could
hear my father singing igilnuan [death song/ in the
house. He tied up his horse, walked in, and knew he
was present in there. Leo said out loud: "I hear
your voice, but I hope nothing bad happens in our
family." So then he said some prayers and went to
bed.

Now my father was alive at this time, but he
was at the Sioux San Hospital in Rapid City. Also
in that hospital was my nephew, Benjamin Junior. It
was just a short time after Leo heard my father
singing that Benjamin Junior died of meningitis--so
we knew my father was preparing us for it.

One day, my father called my husband and I in
and talked to us. He said that his days were coming
to an end and he told my husband "Take care of my
daughter as a father and mother would take care of
her.” And my husband has done that I guess. My
father said "I am old, so don't take my death too
hard. Do not mourn a long time, you know I will be
happy. Hy sufferings will be over and I will have
no hurt. Pray for me as I taught you to pray in
your early days. And pray for me. Do not let any
single day pass without praying for me." So the
last prayer I always say before I go to bed is ”May
the souls of all the faithful departed rest in
peace." I say that for my father and for all who
have died.

THE VISITOR FROM BEYOND

As he waited for death, he told me "Do not
worry, there is a man who comes to see me everyday

*An annual tourist event held in the Black Hills town of
Custer, South Dakota.

180

at three o'clock. He is from overseas and he comes
in to pray with me--so I pray with him. He is a
sacred man." When he was living, my father always
used the phrase ”wicasa wakan” when speaking about a
Blackrobe priest. And that's the phrase he used in
talking about that visitor--wicasa wakan. So he
might have been a Blackrobe who visited him. During
this time he received his last rites for the fourth
and last time.

He also said, ”It seems like I will go anytime
now, so if your car is alright, go after your
younger brother. I want to see him.” My brother
Nick Junior was working way out about fifteen miles
from Hay Springs, Nebraska so we went to get him.
He got his pay and came back, but my father died
just before he returned. He passed away at my
Brother Ben's house on the seventeenth of August,
1950. And he was patient with his suffering right
up until the end.

When he was a catechist, he had been given a
black shirt but we couldn't lay him out in that
because it was all eaten by mice. So we laid him.
out in a suit and tie and put his big cross around
his neck. The catechists had been given those large
crucifixes. He also had his big rosary--one which
had big beads and a saint's relic on it. When he
was out east, a Bishop in New York had given him
that rosary and the relic of St. Peter.

CHAPTER XI
BLACK ELK'S WAKE: THE FINAL FAREWELL

According to traditional Lakota belief, one's spirit
parted the body at death and, if judged worthy, embarked upon
the Milky Way or ”spirit trail" toward the "land of many
lodges” (Powers 1975, 191). If found wanting for some reason,
it became a ”wandering spirit” and was sentenced to roaming
the earth until deemed fit for entrance to the better life
(Hassrick, 297). The uncanny luminescence of the Milky Way
during Black Elk's wake seems an appropriately mysterious and
supernatural sanction of the man whose spiritual vision was
now entrusted to those he left behind. Relegating nature's
relationship with Black Elk to coincidence is easy to say, but
more difficult to explain-—given Neihardt's comments, Brown's
observations and my own.

The holy-man's apparent kinship with the forces of the
universe is nowhere more obvious than during his wake. The
figures Lucy (and others) claim to have seen, i.e., the number
eight and a circle, might be construed in various ways. For
example, the circle held special meaning for Lakota
people--its meaning elaborated by Tyon in his interview by
Walker (1917, 160):

'The Oglala believe the circle to be sacred
because the Great Spirit caused everything in nature

to be round except stone . . . Everything that

breathes is round like the body of a man.

Everything that grows from the ground is round like

the stem of a tree . . . It is also the symbol of

the circle that marks the edge of the world and
therefore of the four winds that travel there.

181

182

Consequently, it is also the symbol of these
divisions of time and hence the symbol of all time.
"For these reasons the Oglala make their tipis

circular, their camp circle circular, and sit in a

circle in all ceremonies. The circle is also the

symbol of the tipi and of shelter. If one makes a

circle for an ornament and it is not divided in any

way, it should be understood as the symbol of the

world and of time . . . '

Apropos to the occasion, Westerners might identify the
figure ”8” as a symbol for infinity. However, such an
association is not a traditional one among the Lakota.
Nonetheless, apart from being the conjunction of two circles,
the figure might also be a kind of celestial marker of the
month, August, in which the holy-man died--an association
perhaps construed at the time but now forgotten. Lucy herself
was unable to attach a particular meaning to the sight--the
details of which are variously reported in the following
narratives.*

Also contained in these recollections are -some
clarifications regarding Black Elk's birth. That is, Neihardt ,
reported the holy-man to have been born "in the Moon of the
Popping Trees (December)" in 1863 (BES, 6), while Brown had
said Black Elk was born in 1862. Father Lindebner, on the
other hand, listed 1866 in the Holy Rosary Hission archives,
and this was the same year Lucy understood to be the year of
her father's physical birth. She disputed the December period
by saying that July was the real month of his birth, and that
*This celestial occurrence might have been the Perseid Meteor

shower, the most active and most visible of such phenomena in
recent history.

183

her father had actually reported to Neihardt the date of his
spiritual birth (i.e., his December baptism.)

Throughout life, natural phenomena . were repeatedly
perceived as affirming the holy-man's prayerful entreaties--an
approbation that all religious leaders would no doubt wish to
have. Death did not, it seems, curtail this pattern since,
proclamation-like, a sort of galactic testimony was seen by
people at Black Elk's wake. This heavenly display was
understood as the sky gleaming bright his way to the peaceful
land of many lodges.

Having watched the gradual disintegration of his people's
traditional lifestyle, the old catechist had enjoined his
nation not to lose its religious integrity. Black Elk
manifested what their responsibility entailed, and he did so
in the face of discouraging trends. Those present at his
funeral powerfully felt an affirmation of the man and his
life. There was a clear consensus that at least one of their

number would own the experience of being happy with Hanan
Ianka forever. 5

Lucy Speaks

The night of his wake was one I'll never
forget. Others saw it that night but they don't
seem to talk about it. My father said, toward the
end that ”I have a feeling that when I die, some
sign will be seen. Maybe God will show something.
He will be merciful to me and have something shown
which will tell of His mercy."

What we saw that night was the sky in a way we

184

never saw before. The northern lights were brighter

than ever and we saw those figures--the number eight
and a ring, or circle. They were separated by a
short distance but they were there--an eight and a
circle. I always wondered what that meant."

Seventy-seven year old William Siehr, S.J., a Jesuit
Brother at Holy Rosary Mission since 1938, knew Black Elk and
had attended the holy-man's wake. His recollection of the
night was vivid, and the reason for which is apparent. He
related his experienceof the night:

Brother Siehr Speaks

Well yes, I remember old Nick, he was the
medicine man Neihardt talks about in
_Spgakfi. He 'was also a zealous catechist from
Handerson. He had quite a bit of influence with the
people, old Nick did. He was the old medicine man
who, in the old days, was considered something like
our priesthood. That is, they respected him for the
authority he had, especially in religious matters.
He was considered to be quite a noted man among the
tribe.

Anyway, I was with Fr. Zimmerman that night and
we went over to the wake. It was in the old house
that's still standing there as you approach
Handerson. There were many people sitting nearby
the coffin, like they do at all the wakes, but this
was a large assembly. There wasn't so much auto
traffic in those days, but there were quite a few
cars around and it was impressive to see so many
people there. We stayed there and spoke to many of
the mourners and it must have been around 10:30 when
we started back up the old Handerson road.

When we left the place, we noticed that light.
The sky was just one bright illumination. I never
saw anything so magnificent. I've seen a number of
flashes of the Northern Lights here in the early
days but I never saw anything quite so intense as it
was that night.

When we came back from the wake, the sky was
lit up and you could see those flames going into
mid-air. It was something like a light being played

*Hiller suggested that Black Elk's birth was even earlier than
1862 (1957, 185).

185

on a fountain which sprays up. It seemed like it
was rising and moving. There would be some flames
going at a great distance way up into the sky above
us. And others would be rising and coming into
various groups and then, all of a sudden, spurt off
on this side and then another side and then off to
the center again. It was almost like day when we
returned.

Everything was constantly moving. As I said,
it was something like a display on a fountain of
water where you see light reflecting on the water as
it's being sprayed up. That's the way the sky was
illumined--something like that--but it was all in
every direction. That is, it was all coming up from
the east and the south, the north and the west. And
they'd all converge up to the top where they'd
meet--rising up into the sky and it was a tremendous
sight.

They weren't stars or meteors, but rather,
well, they were beams or flashes. And there was a
variation of color effect in there-—the whole
horizon seemed to be ablaze. That's the first time
and the only time I ever saw anything like it.

There were different formations in the sky that
night which, to me, looked like spires, like
tremendous points going up--then flashes. And it
seemed like they were almost like fireworks in
between. It was something like when a flare goes
off in the sky--some sparkle here and there, but
spread over such a vast area. And it was not just
momentary. We all seemed to wonder at the immensity
of it.

I don't recall just what anybody else said, but
I know it was something I'll never forget. It was
something I rather associated with the old man as he
was buried at his funeral. Some sort of heavenly
display, a celestial presentation--that's the way I
looked at it. It was sort of a celebration. Old
Nick had gone to his reward and left some sort of
sign to the rest of us. I think it was symbolic.
There was something there.

During a 1979 interview, Joseph Epes Brown was asked if
he had been present at Black Elk's death (1979, 63).

Responding that he had been in Europe at the time, Brown did

recall what the holy-man had foretold, viz., ”You will know

 

when

sort

"in talking with people on the Pine Ridge Reservation," he was

told

186

I am dying, because there will be a great display of some

in the sky." Brown said this prophecy was "true” because

that "the sky was filled with falling stars" when Black

Elk died--”a very unusual display.“

John

Lucy

Lone Goose Speaks

Yes, I remember that night very well, and those
bright stars. Everything looked miracle-like. I'm
not the only one who saw it. Lots of people did.
They were kind of afraid, and I was scared a little
bit--but I knew it was God's will. I know God sent
those beautiful objects to shine on that old
missionary. Maybe the Holy Spirit shined upon him
because he was such a holy man.

The night was still and warm with nothing
fearsome about it--just quiet and nice. God was
with us that time. Other people said, "God is
sending those lights to shine on that beautiful
man.” And that's what I believe.*

Speaks

He used to say that he was born when the
cherries were ripe (July) and the summer before he
died he told me he would be eighty-four that year.
So, he wasn't over ninety. They never used to
celebrate birthdays as we do now so he used his
baptismal date as his birthday--December 6th. He
did that because he would say "I was reborn in
baptism".

*John died November 23, 1975 and was buried at Handerson.

CHAPTER XII
THE LEGACY

With Black Elk's passing, the reservation knew that a
very special member of its community was no longer present.
The holy-man who had lived so well through so much had been a
beacon for others struggling to make their way down the
at-times gloomy corridor of twentieth-century life. But now
he was gone, and with his departure, it would seem that part
of the reservation conscience had been laid to rest.

Black Elk understood his role as a Catholic catechist to
be the desire of Hanan Tank; ”who had chosen him for this
work." And as has been shown, he adopted this new form of
religious expression with great zeal. The old medicine
man-turned-catechist appreciated his earlier tradition but
adapted to an historical ethos that made his religious quest a
response to.flakan Tank; in the changing circumstances of the
here-and-now. Such was the spiritual impression he tried to
etch upon the hearts of his listeners, and Lucy was saddened
to think her father's life-message had been lost.

Lucy Speaks

After my father passed away, memories of him
stayed with us a long time. Sometimes in church or
sometimes at a gathering, somebody would get up and
mention his name and speak about him. People would
feel he was present in our chapel or meeting house.
Younger people would even say that we should follow
his example, support the church, and pray more
often. And some people would say that when they
came to church, they thought they saw my father.

Before my brother Nick died, I believe he was
trying to follow in my father's footsteps.
Sometimes he would pray in times of need, at social
gatherings, or at funerals. He also preached, and

187

188

liked to sing in the choir. But his life was cut
short, as I have said, when he died in 1959.

Although I don't speak of this, often we. still
experience my father's help in our lives. If
something is going to go bad in our famaily, or if
something is wrong, I know about it. And I think my
father is responsible for this.

Just lately, when they took my boy to the
hospital, I cried. We had plans for my brother
Ben's memorial feast and here my son was close to
death. I asked my husband what we should do and if
we should go through with the dinner. He said it
was up to me. All of a sudden, something came to me
like a flash--like somebody speaking to me clearly.
I was told to go through with everything. So I did.

What I thought was this. People would come to
the memorial for something good. They would pray
for the church, and express their feelings about our
religion-~which I'm sure my father enjoyed. That's
what he did when he was alive. And he would have
thought as I did--to go through with the memorial.
What came to mind was the time he had two coffins in
church and still preached--even though those two
coffins held his own children. I know my father was
speaking to me then. We experience things like
that.

My son really made a mistake when he went
through that sweat lodge ceremony--thinking it was
his grandfather's wish. He went and did it, got
sick and almost died. Just before he was flown to
the Denver hospital, Georgie was given the last
rites and communion. His mouth was dry so he
couldn't swallow the communion and had it on his
tongue the entire trip. When he arrived, he got
water and could swallow. My son recovered after a
long stay there. He said many bad spirits came to
fight him, but there was always one good
spirit--Jesus. And the bad couldn't do anything to
him. That was a miracle.

So when things aren't going right, I remember
what my father used to say. "At such times," he
would say, "go to church. It is a place of comfort
where you will not feel bad. There's a quiet peace
in there. There are no quarrels and nothing is
wrong in that church.”

'We Indians originally had a ganagi tipi, When
a family member died, a piece of their hair would be
cut off and hung in the back of a tipi. A pipe
would be there too.* If it's their child, the fathr
and mother taught the other children not to say
anything bad in that tipi--becaue it was a special
place, a sacred place, a place of prayer.

*Cf. Brown, Joseph Epes, op. cit., pp. 10-30.

189

"They'd want their child to have a good life in
the other world. They wanted that one to have an
easy afterlife--so they prayed for the dead like we
do now. The church is a wanagi tipi, in which Our
Lord is present.

When you go in there, have no feelings of
hardship, no wrong feelings, no hatred--nothing like
that. Go in there to the Great Spirit. That's the
only place where you will be content. If you go to
church, worldly things would not disturb you.”

So I do as he said, and believe what he told
me. Sometimes I offer Holy Communion for those who
don't do us wrong, and I pray for those who have
done us wrong. In that way, I get back on the road
again. I know my father led a life like that, and
I'm sure he prays for me in the other world. He
prays, as do all the poor souls, for us who are
living all confused.

A while back, somebody came and reported that
certain people were saying bad things about me.
When this was told to me I thought ”they hurt me why
don't I hurt them back?" But right away I
remembered my father and all that he taught me.
When he became a catechist he had the same kind of
trouble. But he was a patient and forgiving man.

When I was tempted to strike back, I thought
about my father. I chose instead to follow his way.
He practiced a Christian lifeand that's the faith I
wanted to practice. This younger generation is
trying to live without the Christian life. They
don't seem to be interested and practice the faith.
They've been suffering, I know that, so I pray for
them.

I feel bad about this at times. So I go to my
room, like my father, and pray for them. I pray
that one day they'll return and do as they're
supposed to do--fear God according to the
commandments. I pray a prayer for priests too.

A DAUGHTER'S MELANCHOLY

Like her father, Lucy has suffered the discouragement of
seeing relatives and friends become lax in their practice of
religion. Losing this responsibility, she felt, was a major
reason why the social conditions of Pine Ridge remained so
pitiable. Within her own family, Lucy sees crystallized the

spiritual ferment of the reservation as a whole. Some people

190

cling to their religious practice while others participate
half-heartedly. Some crusade for one tradition while
embittered others simply shrug and say they are occupied with
more important concerns.

The confusion engendered by these mentalities is not
foreign to Lucy's experience, and has been a source of
considerable pain for the holy—man's daughter. Lucy's sadness
was apparent during many of my visits when, particularly, we
were distracted by unexpected intrusions. On one occasion, a
distant relative stopped by after a day at the pub. Unsteady
on his feet, the man was distressed to the point of tears.
Unintentionally stepping on my taperecorder, he held me and
repeatedly implored: "help me!” Unmoved herself, but
noticing my own uncertainty as to what, exactly, I should do,
Lucy calmly said ”he wants you to pray for him.”

On another occasion, I spent an afternoon with Lucy in
the presence of a relative who had, the previous night, been
pushed around and bruised by some neighbors. The relative
laid in bed just a few feet away from us during the course. of
my visit. With gun in hand, he expressed a hope that the
neighbors would stop by so that he could shoot them. Although
greatly distracting me, the scenario stimulated Lucy to state
her convictions with even more force.

Because Pine Ridge was rife with violence and dissension
during and after the Wounded Knee occupation of 1973, the
holy-man's daughter felt an even more acute need to have her

father's life-story completely told. A current within the

 

 

191

reservation milieu was the invocation of Black Elk's "spirit”
.3 13 Blank Elk Speaks, and to ignore the Black Elk of
subsequent years--the person Lucy knew as father. She felt
that extended-family members were sorely suffering from an
ignorance of the holy-man's actual lifestyle and thinking.
And so, her effort to produce this biography was, as stated, a
longstanding desire that was fanned by the flames of a social
unrest she wanted to assuage.

As has been clear throughout her narrative,' Lucy's
devotion to the Catholic tradition of her father is ardent.
Saddened at her people's plight and fearful that her father's
efforts would likewise be forgotten she often despaired the
following observation.

Lucy Speaks

The past couple of years I've been shocked to
hear people say that my father never actually
believed in the Catholic religion. I know they're
really making a mistake. So please pray that they
won't spoil my father's past life and destroy his
work for the Church. It's really pitiful for our
younger people to believe such things and have such
misunderstandings about our people. Our older
people came to believe in the faith. But these days
I'm asked to talk about my father's older practice,
and how he rejected Christianity. If I made up
stories to please people, I'd be lying. And I don't
want to do that. It's not what he would have
wanted.

Of historical note in this last narrative is a reference
to Calico, Ben Marrowbone's uncle, who had been a prominent
figure in the early reservation community. In Lakota

parlance, he had been an itancan or ”leader” (chief). On the

reservation today, a small community north of Holy Rosary

192

Mission comprises the village of Calico--named after the
chief. Its original name was tanlfilfiaa or "spleen.”

Ben Harrowbone Speaks

Saving your soul was important to us. That's
why the Indian used to keep a relic of someone who
died. It would be kept in a tipi maybe two years or
four years. This was called a wanagi .tipi or
"spirit lodge." Hy uncle Calico had a daughter for
four years, a nice girl, but she died. He kept some
of her hair as a relic.

People had to show respect for the spirit of
the person who died. That relic would be kept in
the tipi and no sharp words were to be spoken in its
presence. No quarreling or even loud talk was to be
done in that house--becausethere was a spirit in
there. So people respected the dead, and prayed for
them. If children forgot and were noisy, or if they
went into the tipi before a visitor entered, they
would be scolded. Visitors might come and show
respect for the relic of the dead. And if little
children did not show respect for the visitors, they
would afterwards be told: 'You are impolite . . .
you have no manners.‘

After one, two, or three years were over, a
feast would be held in honor of that spirit. That
spirit would then be joined with relatives in the
new life.

Visiting the church was like visiting the
‘ganagi‘tipi. Care for the soul and praying for the
dead were not new things to us. As I said, when men
like Black Elk converted, nobody said "You fool!"
-My father's special friend was a screech owl, and he
cured people with the screech owl's help. But when
my father started to change his ways to church ways,
no more screech owl. He changed his practice.

193

CONCLUSION

WHAT DID BLACK ELK REALLY SPEAK?

Kiowa scholar N. Scott Homaday has written that in .filagk
.Elk_§p§§k§ ”we have access to a principal world view of one of
the major tribes of American Indians . . . without knowing

precisely where to place /the book/ in our traditional
categories of learning” (1984, 81). Appropriately, he
continues, it has fallen under the rubric of such disciplines
as Literature, Anthropology, Folklore, Religious Studies, and
Native American Studies. Homaday further adds that "we need
not concern ourselves with labels here, any more than we need
concern ourselves with the question of authorship or the
quality of translation or transcription." Rather, we simply
need to recognize the book as "an extraordinary human document

. . the record of a profoundly spiritual journey, the
pilgrimage of a people towards their historical fulfillment
and culmination, towards the accomplishment of a worthy
destiny” (31).

The holy-man's life does, indeed, address a spectrum of
human concerns in a fashion that has prompted others, from
different cultures and countries and creeds, to give him
special attention. Implicit here is that we have more than
just an intriguing study of individual or cultural adaptation,
and Black Elk himself alludes to this "more" when speaking of
a sacred ritual to Brown. At stake in what he reports is the

very meaning and purpose of life itself as he tearfully

194

observes that ”some are not even trying to catch it" (Brown
1953, 138). Homaday suggests that such a focus was foremost
in Black Elk's thought and is, essentially, what constitutes
the holy-man's appeal. Regardless, though, of its
philosophical implications, his life and thought has long
needed the clarifications this biography has provided.

In Blank_zlk_fipeaks, the world received a work that gave
birth to many reprints and innumberable footnotes of opinion
and commentary. Neihardt's biography was intended to
symbolize the life-journey of the Sioux and,’ by extension,
Native people as a whole. But as the preceding chapters have
shown, such an equation lacked critical information--the
availability of which can now generate even further
discussion.

The new perspective presented here arises from material
that was feelingly communicated and grounded firmly within the
lived-experience of persons intimately connected with the
holy-man's Lakota identity. It has eclipsed earlier notions
and provided, as carefully as possible, a better sense of the
issues and individuals who comprised the cultural horizon of
the post-reservation period within which Black Elk and his
people confronted change. This more holistic sketch does
greater justice to the human drama that initially captured
audiences with details that were incomplete.

As shown, Black Elk attained luminary status over the
past several decades among reading audiences as a whole, and

Native people in particular. The general public tended to

195

reverence him as an eminently praiseworthy nineteenth-century
Native figure, and anthropologists pretty much regarded his
life and thought as distillations of a Plains Indian culture
that is no more (Hoover, 1979).* Moreover, Black Elk material
has been variously utilized. Social scientists tapped it for
the purpose of cross-cultural comparisons, and regarded it as
a fairly good ethnographic index to Siouan ways of a century
past. Others, however, were gripped emotionally, as the man's
moving narrative powerfully conjured up a vision of better,
yet bygone, days. The demise of this period stirred sadness
within such readers, as White conquest dealt death to an
entire way of life. Black Elk's compelling observations
painted a portrait of extinction for the once-nomadic,
now-confined and lifeless, Lakota people.

Having appreciated these same perspectives, I (like so
many others) thought myself as having a ”participant-observer”
role prior to even meeting a flesh-and-blood Sioux person.
Once among his people, though, I was forced to reassess some
rather central assumptions that had been nourished by much of
the literature which described them. This re-evaluation was
due mostly to garnering greater knowledge about Black Elk
himself through his family and those who knew him best. And
so, these concluding pages will address the main issues raised
by the man's now-completed biography.

*Black Elk Speaks has been published in German, Flemish,
Dutch, Italian, Danish, Serbo-Croatian, Swedish, and Spanish.

.196

I. THE INTERPLAY OF RETREATISH, ROMANTICISM, AND REALISH

This new reading of the holy-man's life might confound
those who have sought to re-establish traditions of the past
as a necessary first-step in the forging of contemporary
Lakota identity.* Since religion figures so prominently
within this movement, Black Elk's vigorous Catholic practice
will no doubt stir controversy. For example, Deloria's fipd_L§
3:9,rode the crest of revivalism largely because of its
articulate dispatch of Christianity as a viable option for
Indian people. A respected social critic and a Lakota
himself, Deloria wrote that in Native religion:

”There is no demand for a personal relationship

with a personal savior. Cultural heroes are

representative of community experience. They may

stand as classic figures, such as Deganiwidah, Sweet

Medicine, Black Elk, Smohalla, and even Wovoka . . .

/italics added/' (1973, 201).
However, in learning about the whole of Black Elk's life we
see that the concept of ”returning to the ways of our
grandfathers" can be little more than the equivalent of
moviedom's penchant for romantic portrayals. A popular
sentiment is tapped, but its resemblance is to the
ethnographic present rather than the actual conditions of the
past. Discovering that ”grandfather's ways" were more of a
*Other Native groups also grapple with this issue, and Black
Elk's image has contributed to their spirited effort.
Recently, for example, Omaha spiritual leader "Joe Kemp” said
that ”Black Elk was a sacred man to whom ,lpgigpg turned in
time of need /italics added/." He gave this observation to an

audience at the groundbreaking ceremony for a Black Elk
monument in Blair, Nebraska.

197

search than a well-established discovery, proponents of a
"return" just might find themselves embracing precisely what
their forebears chose to relinquish, or significantly modify.

Elsewhere, Deloria states that "more than -one Indian
political organization has based its approach to modern
problems on §l§55_§13_§pgakfi." Hence, he suggests the work
captured what was authentically Indian. Now, however, Black
Elk's last sixty years must also be considered, even though
some may find this latter period tainted through "guilt by
association" with Western ways.

We are left, then, to discern if there is something
essentially consistent within the man's life that does not
compromise the integrity of his earlier portrayal. Even if
contemporary social trends resurrect a nineteenth-century
Indian identity (with the Black Elk model. reigning as a
favorite), it is, nonetheless, judicious to appraise such
models in their totality. The derivative sketch of the man
and his culture is, thus, far more satisfying if for no other
reason than its completeness.

Framing the problem this way, a significant qualification
has been added here. The central figure of Black 515 Speaks
and The Sacred 21p: does not, in Lucy's narrative, conjure up
images of a resplendent warrior astride his majestic stallion
with face toward the setting sun. Buffaloes do not gasp last
breaths which toll the death knell of America's pristine
wilderness, and prairie schooners are not dotting the horizon

as prey for the test of Indian marksmanship. Similarly, the

198

story she has told does not establish her father as a type of
Indian "Dick the boot-black”--artificer of some new American
dream 3, 13, Horatio Alger.

Lucy's account of her father's adult life has special
merit in that it begs re-evaluation of long-held notions
concerning the adaptation of Indian culture to changing times.
Plains warrior society was itself a short-lived phenomenon
originating from agricultural, woodland ways. And yet, a
static concept of Indian-ness--wedded only to the
nineteenth-century world--has entrenched itself as the
beginning and end of discourse related to Native identity.

Two Leggins of the Crow, interviewed shortly before his
death in 1923, seems to epitomize a conventional wisdom which
has been too readily accepted by both scholars and laypeople.
Having recounted his life-experiences up to 1888, Two Leggings
sadly concluded his narrative by saying:

”Nothing happened after that. We just lived.

There were no more war parties, no capturing of

horses from the Piegans and the Sioux, no buffalo to

hunt. There is nothing more to tell" (Nabokov 1967,
197). .

Plenty Coups, another famous Crow leader who died in 1932,

echoed the above when, having told of his earlier days, he
said:

”. . . when the buffalo went away the hearts of
my people fell to the ground, and they could not
lift them up again. After this nothing happened"

(Linderman 1962, 311).
Writing at the same time as Neihardt, author Robert
Gessner tapped a similar sentiment for Lakota life. He quotes

an informant as saying: "After Wounded Knee all ambition was

199

taken out of us. We have never since been able to regain a
foothold (1931, 417).” The accent of this literature is
obviously a grim one. It errs, however, by being overly
retrospective and fatalistic.

Such accounts are forceful reminders of the cataclysmic
experience of social upheaval that Indian groups endured.
Indeed, their felt losses and griefs need to be acknowledged
by we who might otherwise simply name this period a
"transitional phase of culture." In all probability, there
are some who might still not be sensitized to this part of
American history-~remaining smug and uninformed about the
destructive aspects of our own cultural imperialism. Still,
however, those who define Indian resilience as little more
than a museum-piece severely (and perhaps) unconsciously)
jeopardize the ongoing struggle of Native people in the
contemporary world.

Lucy's account of her father's full story is, then, not
unlike the appeal of Rosa Parks--the woman who refused to give
up her seat on a bus. By doing so, she ushered in the civil
rights movement among Blacks. Like Rosa Parks, Lucy felt
compelled to assert that her people were live, human beings,
and not to be taken for granted, or consigned a
one-dimensional identity. Her father's life commanded more
attention than it had received, and Lucy wanted known the
entirety of what Black Elk spoke.

The quintessence of nineteenth-century Lakota identity

had been ascribed to a man who lived most of his life in the

200

twentieth-century. In fact, the greater part of his life was
never reported, and Lucy sought to redress this injustice. As
a result, an important byproduct of her effort (and that of
others) has been to show how pre-and post-reservation Sioux
adjusted to changing conditions.

To repeat, the culture into which Black Elk was born was
adaptive, or processual, and not static. This work has shown
that Black Elk's life-span bridged significantly distinct
periods--providing, as it were, a kaleidoscopic (or
diachronic) perspective that has heretofore been lacking.
Rather than regard the holy-man as a kind of artifactal relic
of the bison-hunting era, we have, instead, seen him to be a
flexible person who was acutely sensitive to the demands of
changing conditions. In that sense, he indeed typified the
essence of the old order. He was not, however, a prisoner to
its substance, even though diverse analytical perspectives
would have us believe so.

DeHallie rightly points out that the earlier portrayal
deserves criticism precisely because of its depiction of Black
Elk "as more aloof and cut-off from the real world than he
actually was” (1984, 124). This understatement has .
far-reaching implications. Notably, the Black Elk model of
Lakota identity has been sustained by both scholarly opinion
and native self-perception to the detriment of, among other
things, his people's contemporary social adjustment.

II. BLACK ELK'S BIOGRAPHY DISPELS THE WARRIOR STEREOTYPE

Although noted in earlier descriptions of reservation

201

life (Macgregor, 26-7), the Lakota desire for a return to what
is imagined as more carefree and pristine Native ways has
emerged with even greater force in recent years. With their
socio-cultural horizon limited to the more dramatic events of
historical times, writers have expended much effort depicting
the Sioux as a "warrior society" during that zenith period.
The line of thought here is basically that military exploits
somehow greatly epitomized the people's essential identity
(Hyde, 1937; Macgregor, 1946; Hassrick, 1964; Anderson, 1984).
Studies that describe the anomic conditions of
twentieth-century reservation life suggest that the Sioux have
been disenfrancised from their most important pursuit (i.e.,
military adventure). Students of Indian culture thus perceive
the modern era as comprised of sad people who mourn their
inability to wage meaningful fights. Presumably, the social
institutions of the past drew their lifeblood from this
central activity, and with it gone the Sioux are reduced to
lingering depression, a grueling and tortuous assimilation, or
perhaps (many hope) a new cultural synthesis that is dynamic.

Most of the literature (and folk opinion) has used this
terminology either directly or indirectly when referring to
Black Elk's people. However, a review of Lakota culture shows
that "warrior society" (and the associations it evokes) is
little more than a misleading abstraction. Now reduced to a
commonly-shared vernacular, the designation seems explanatory
but is, in fact, not very illuminating.

The Siouan ascent to what has been called their "plains

202

domitance" was actually a hard-fought and continuous
nego:iation (Little Thunder, n.d.). That is, the Crow,
Pawn e, and other tribes did not passively succumb to
aggression. Rather, they sought to retain their own
contiguous footholds within a buffalo-bounded ecosystem.
During this process, American expansion accentuated militancy,
and brought fanfare to such Lakota leaders as Crazy Horse, Red
Cloud, Sitting Bull, and others. Apart from representing an
indomitable and praiseworthy spirit of Native integrity, these
figures surface as representatives of a long, ongoing struggle
for existence that characterized the historical period. The
economic sphere lends support to this perspective as the short
period of successful reservation pastoralism is a significant
and early testimony of the Lakota willingness to clearly
eschew a contingency lifestyle in favor of a more predictable,
less-trying mode.

Did Black Elk speak on behalf of a ”warrior society?"
Neihardt's interview-material contained more militant
overtones than appeared in the finished text, but these
omissions did not substantially alter a sense of the
nineteenth-century milieu which he described. The period was,
simply, one of immense struggle marked by the violence of war.
Ultimately, then, the explicative value of "warrior society"
is minimal and its relevance to contemporary Lakota can only
be metaphorical as in the people's "fight” for social justice.
Two-thirds of the holy-man's life, like that of many others

from his generation, was clearly a decision for alternative

203

routes to survival.

The historical record presents a picture quite different
from the one so often portrayed by modern media, or war buffs.
As much as the best-seller,.fipn§a,xp, has been criticized, it
does represent a commendable attempt to show hOw life ways of
the nineteenth-century ggggpglly came to be (Hill, 1979). The
Sioux did not just one day decide that social status would be
commensurate with coup counts, and sex-roles did not become
fixed simply as a result of a new-found equine "technology”
that assured greater battle success. If ever there did exist
a "golden age" of yesteryear, it seems not to have been a
period of blissful repose free of duress. Similarly, it
cannot be concluded that maintaining existence via regular war
parties was a cultural value.

A re-reading of the historical period does not so much
show the Sioux as a "warrior society," but as a defense-minded
people (a characteristic noted even in recent years) who also
occupied themselves with other activities. Crucial to point
out is that this defensiveness was not, initially, by design,
but by pressures exerted by other Native groups. It would
seem that rather than conduct themselves in some kind of
desired military regimen, the Lakota were simply wise enough
to protect a long-sought territorial niche.

Far from being a well-oiled military machine, Sioux
society maintained a posture sufficient only for boundary
maintenance. War exploits never required mobilization of very

great numbers and seem, in fact, to have equalled as much or

204

as little time spent on other activities (Two Bulls, n.d.).
The much-celebrated victory of Little Big Horn in 1876 was a
grand exception to the years-standing rule of inconsequential
militancy. Therefore, instead of considering the warrior
element of Sioux society as somehow its essential attribute,
we might better understand it as defensive in nature and as
but one means of gaining social status--a cultural category
subject to fluctuation and variety (One Feather, n.d.).
Stated in simpler terms, patriotism which includes the taking
up of arms is a good for the protection of kith and kin.
Nonetheless, portrayal of the Lakota as a hostile people no
doubt lingers because of other reasons only alluded to until
now.

Namely, the United States still fought this "enemy” as
recently as 1891. Shortly after this final clash, the advent
of the film industry captivated the world, and capitalized on
the well-known, topic of America's "savage” foes. "Westerns,"
ever since, have reinforced the tried-and-true, box-office
draw of Sioux adversaries stalking innocent, yet brave,
settlers. Such celluloid fare, and the plethora of Zane Grey
or Louis L'Amour novels, no doubt greatly influence our
national perception. Their repetitive ”imaging” of Lakota
people has created, both inside the classroom and out, a
cultural stereotype that the Sioux themselves find difficult
to dislodge.

A recent example of this pattern would be the Wounded

Knee occupation of 1973. It was a bitter, unglamorous,

 

205

deathly experience for the "militants" (and others) it
included. The incident was a predictable response by Native
people (from many groups) to grievances that always seemed to
go unheeded. Nonetheless, the event is frequently referred to
as a glorious glimmer of Indian resistance from times past
(Akwesasne Notes, n.d.). People present at the occupation are
now almost reverentially spoken of as Wounded Knee "warriors.”
Fertile imaginations (of Whites and Indians) seem, after the
fact, to have constructed a reality quite different from the
original.

Similarly, popularity of the cult-film ”Billy Jack” has
led many to conclude that such a figure fit pre-eminently into
traditional Siouan concepts of male militancy. The movie
portrays Billy Jack, an "Indian,” as a former Green Beret (not
just a common soldier) with Vietnam experience, known for
dispatching unfriendly Whites with lethal karate kicks
(updated battle tactics borrowed, no doubt, from, Bruce Lee's
martial arts movies). Modern Lakota youth have been much
entranced by the Billy Jack image, while subscribing to
alternative status models almost connotes a kind of genetic
sellout.

The deeper truth is, however, that for over two-hundred
years the Sioux have, very simply, had to defend themselves.
In addition, one-hundred years of reservation life have
fostered different forms of antisocial behavior that arise
largely from the hammerlock of poverty. Such responses have

little to do with any kind of earlier, ingrained, "warrior”

206

tradition.

Erik Erikson worked among the Sioux during the 1930's and
addressed some of the issues raised here. He mused that even
if the Lakota could return to the past, their traumatic defeat
and dependence would never be erased. The "psychological
effects of unemployment and neurosis . . . tuberculosis,
syphilis, and alcoholism" were, among other things,
exacerbated when he visited the Sioux again in 1950 ('7fi3,
1‘3)- Obviously, his prognosis was not very
hopeful, and subsequent research only amplified the ominous
forecast. Children see their fathers as ineffective models,
suffer from.family disruption, turn to delinquency, and carry
a "generalized rejection of life" (Seward 1956, 230).
Educational achievement has likewise consistently been noted
as radically below that of other groups (Bryde, 1966).

The most recent and comprehensive sociocultural analysis
of the Lakota was published in 1969 (Maynard and Twiss).
Though compact as far as such studies go (184 pages), it
condensed previous literature and applied it well to the
contemporary reservaton scene. On a more positive note,
recent initiatives on the reservation give some basis for
optimism.*

The complexity of culture does not, however, permit the
resolution of difficult problems through simple programmatic
*Proposals for a renascence are threefold in nature: 1)
eliminate poverty's ills through gainful employment, 2)
upgrade education through a bicultural curriculum and

community involvement, and 3) encourage reservation
leadership and autonomy.

 

207

directives. Attitudes, institutions, technology, environment,
and a score of other phenomena interpenetrate and influence a
people's life-experience. The discussion here has addressed

an additional factor affecting the amelioration of Lakota
culture--the resurgent interest in past tradition. Although

this looking back seems logically more enlightening than
predicting the future, it should now be obvious that confusion
can even occur in this regard. A

Langness has argued that the use of biography has not
been sufficiently plumbed by anthropologists and that it
offers a key to cultural identity which other research fails
to articulate (1965). With this in mind, Black Elk's
now-completed biography, can contribute to the development of
a more authentic cultural understanding. Acculturation, Billy
Jack, warrior society, retreatism, anomie, and other
descriptive labels of the Siouan milieu deserve the
qualification his life-story proposes. Examining Black Elk's
passage from medicine man to catechist, from horseback to
motorcycle and cars, from forager to successful rancher, jerky
to sauerkraut, and from buckskin to three-piece suits, we have
a more accurate picture of what it has meant, and does mean,
to be a Lakota.
III. TRADITIONAL RELIGION AND CHRISTIANITY

The special commemorative edition of ‘filagh__filk__§p§ghg
featured a Preface which, due to the omission of this new

account, reinforced a theoretical misdirection that can now be

208

amended. Namely, the author (again Deloria) emphasized how
Neihardt's work was indispensable for understanding Indian
religious tradition (1979, xiii-xiv). He asserted that the
book must be considered as an essential ”canon” of Native
spirituality from which further theological reflection can
(and must) arise. He claimed that the book's unanticipated
popularity was what Black Elk would have wanted, and that it
must serve as an alternative to Western religious thought.

Aware of its authorship problems, Deloria, nonetheless,
seems to have given his blessing upon the work because of an
already widespread sentiment. That is, Christian churches did
not appear to be touching Native communities with a desired
spirituality, and so a more congenial, culturally rooted,
religion needed to be tapped. Neihardt's Black Elk
represented a kind of lost legacy of religious strength, and
it was presumed that his grief as an elder symbolized the
inevitable outcome of culture-contact wherein Native people
were dispossessed of everything they had formerly cherished.
Such has been, at least, a popular characterization--one which
Deloria perhaps espoused. And yet, the ”theology" of the
work, according to a recent critic, is Neihardt's and not his
informant's (Holler 1984, 20).

The completion of Black Elk's biography constitutes an
addendum which clarifies these disparate types of observation.
The holy—man's ”life prescription," if it can be labelled
that, was not a call for the restoration of traditional Native

rites; nor was his Christian practice a signal for renewed

 

209

evangelistic endeavors among Native peoples at the expense of‘
an older tradition's religious forms. By the same token,
Christianity's importance within the holy-man's life cannot be
underestimated. His legacy might best be summed up in the

words of a ninety-year old relative who appraised her cousin's

behavior and thought the following way:*

"He was a really good fellow. He'd preach
about the Gospel. He'd say to 'bring up children
according to God's laws. Only Almighty God can
change the way things are'i”

A witness to what his life had entailed, she distrusted any
further reports that time would add to his memory. . And so,
she angrily indicted her people by saying:

”Younger ones now don't tell the truth. They never

believed. People heard him but did not listen."

My aged friend's forthright comments were telling. So much
was implied in so little.

The Wounded Knee massacre was an event of her early
childhood, while her many years were passed in residence near
Handerson itself. Matriarch of both the reservation and its
Catholic community, the outspoken grandmother knew her cousin
to be a man who had lived through very difficult times, the
district's first and foremost catechist, and one whose "family
could have taken better care of him than they did." A woman
whose religious instruction was clearly received from Black
Elk, she shared his lament that the years had devastated the

people's behavior. What had been a reflexive religious

210

posture was now, in her opinion, not much in evidence.

In light of the above, Black Elk's life and thought can
be more readily assessed by commenting upon the reservation's
history of religious involvement. By doing so, the holy-man's
portrait of zealous catechist and discouraged elder will not
remain the paradoxical profile that bars understanding. That
is, much of the discussion spawned by this figure has focused
on an ”either/or" proposi+fion. Namely, Black Elk was, at
heart, either an old-time medicine man, or one who forsook the
tradition in favor of something entirely new.* What follows
will show that neither evaluation is an appropriate framing of
the issue. .

DeHallie has pointed out that ”effective leadership for
the Lakotas shifted during the early reservation period from
political to religious spheres” (1984, 23). It is not
surprising that such a phenomenon occur. In his recent study
of Plains Indian religion, Schwarz noted that:

"The holy man has a 'vision' of the world--its
nature, its history and its destiny--and a sense of
humanity's place within that scheme. Through that
vision, the holy man can hope to solve problems for
which the tradition offers no ready-made solutions .

. ." (1981, 53).

Given this observation, it should be clear why such persons
were especially prominent during the late-nineteenth century.
The fluid nature of Plains culture itself, noted earlier, made
*DeMallie rightly notes that discussions of this topic usually

dissolve ”into political rhetoric rather than objective
assessment” (1984, 80).

 

211

it conducive for religious leadership to emerge even more
significantly, and as shown, it was Black Elk's abiding sense
of religious mission that permitted his own meaningful
adaptation to changing circumstances.

A corroborating source for this same theme can be found
in the person of George Sword, Walker's multi-dimensional
informant--the man "of marked ability with a philosophical
trend far beyond the average Oglala" (Walker 1917, 59). In
his unfinished autobiography, Sword disclosed that:

”When I believed the Oglala Wakan Tanka was

right I served him with all my powers. I became a

Wicasa Wakan /holy-man/ . . . a pejuta wicasa

/medicine man/ . . . a Blotaunka (leader of war

parties) . . . I was wakiconze (civil magistrate) .

In war with the white people I found their Wakan

Tanka the Superior . . . and have served Wakan Tanka

according to the white people's manner and with all

my power . . . I joined the church and am a deacon

in it and shall be until I die. I have done all I

was able to do to persuade my people to live

according to the teachings of the Christian

ministers . . ." (1917, 159).

An Episcopalian, Sword was not unlike Black Elk and many
others who, asrthregor pointed out, "translated Christianity
into the Dakota /sic/ way of life”—-interpreting it in terms
of their previous religious experience (1946, 102). This
experience included (from their most immediate past) the Ghost
Dance, which was itself an ”import" that they received and

accomodated.

Equally notable at this time was Short Bull.* He and

*A leading proponent of the Ghost Dance (with brother-in-law,
Kicking Bear).

212

Sword were two prominent holy-men who confronted both the
Ghost Dance and Christianity, and can be considered as
representative theoreticians of this process. Their
high-visibility as public figures does not make them
exceptions to the principle at work here. Instead, they serve
as credible examples from the early period, and Black Elk's
completed biography validates the normative role they bore as
religious leaders confronting change. Theirs was a challenge,
as Overholt described, "to put/keep the world together, and as
such was fraught with ambiguity" (1978, 190-91).

Steinmetz has categorized this ambiguity under two
labels, viz., Lakota Ecumenist I and II (1980). The former
refers to those who practice each tradition separately, while
the latter are those who somehow work to integrate them.
Disputing Black Elk's classification within the second
category, Holler argues that the holy-man was clearly a
traditionalist for Neihardt and Brown, a dutiful Catholic
while employed as a catechist (1984, 41). Steinmetz's reading
of Black Elk's experience stressed an integration that was
largely "unconscious" (159), while Holler sought to establish
the holy-man as a proponent for the practice of traditional
rites. Unfortunately, both evaluations (to varying degrees)
do not fully take into account the cultural landscape within
which Black Elk lived, and lack the panoramic view that this
biography contains.*

*Steinmetz's work also includes discussion of other religious
movements among Pine Ridge Lakota.

 

213

In short, the late nineteenth century Lakota world was

characterized, as most history books note, by upheavals

that radically altered the people's manner of life. It was
during this period that Black Elk was born and raised.
Formative in his (and the people's) experience, were such
cultural cornerstones as the vision quest, the Sun Dance,
nomadism, and the buffalo hunt.

Sitting Bull's surrender in 1881 marked the end of the
nomadic way, and sealed once and for all the reservation
system still in place today. Similarly, the last great
buffalo hunt was held the following year, and this ushered in
a new economy which, ever since, has amounted to some form of
subsistence based on government rationing.

Where success, power, and the virtuous life could come
fromlggkgp.1§pkg_ thru the vision quest, this avenue was
gradually sealed off by a variety of measures imposed by the
reservation's Superintendent. Certain customs were outlawed
(notably, the Sun Dance), children were made to leave home and
then board at government schools (some taken to Carlisle,
Pennsylvania), and sodalities which formerly flourished
gradually lost their significance. In fact, reservation-born
youth came into a world quite different than that of their
parents. Those who rallied around the Ghost Dance of 1890
were, in all probability, the last to have experienced a
vision quest free of duress, or a Sun Dance that truly
symbolized and reinforced social solidarity.

Witness to and participant in this unfolding drama, Black

214

Elk embodied Lakota ideology as he manifested a resilient
willingness to let go of what was, and experiment with what
might be the disclosures of gakgp Igpkg for his life. Hence,
like others similarly constituted, he travelled overseas, and
endured whatever unknowns such a venture entailed.
Disillusioned there,he listened to reports of a Red messiah
and, again like others, embraced the new hope offered by Ghost
dancing.

Where Linton would call the above religious movement an
"irrational" flight from reality (1941), and where Mooney
would call it a response to recent and long-standing
grievances ((886), persons like Black Elk generated a responSe
to the ”craze” by means of a well-conditioned,
culturally-based, disposition to seek the power of Wakan
_Igpkg on whatever new horizon it might appear. Linton's
proposition for movements such as the Ghost Dance was that
they arise during the acculturative process when exploitation
and frustration are experienced by a dominated people.
Mooney's thesis noted that the Ghost Dance was only a symptom
and expression of the real causes of dissatisfaction that had
been growing among the Sioux (noted above). And just as their
observations are a phenomenological description of the more
apparent conditions of the social milieu, so is this work a
much-needed illumination of the cognitive "map" that guided
people like Black Elk pap; the Ghost Dance and into still
another mode of adaptation, viz., active participation within

an organized denomination of Christianity (along with the

 

215

"acculturation" such participation included).

Like others of his generation, Black Elk had been a

respected religious practitioner, and when such persons
affiliated with Christian sects, their following did not turn
a deaf ear on this already-established leadership. As Lucy
herself stated, the missionaries seemed to look for such
persons. By the same token, however, peeple still needed the
assuring presence of their own religious specialists who, it
appeared, were successfully discerning a new course that
surely had the blessing of Wakan Tanka.

Essentially, when people like Black Elk or Sword, Fills
the Pipe or Black Fox strove to lead their people into the
twentieth century, their role as new-order holy-men served the
people well, and provided a self-direction that was elsewhere
very difficult to experience. This self-direction, a kind of
vision quest gone communal, explains in large part why
denominational affiliations became so widespread and important
during the early reservation period. External conditions
could drastically change and be controlled or manipulated by
non-Lakota agents. The people's internal environment,
however, was theirs to determine.* In this way, the holy-men
perceived anew the durability of Wakan Tanka.

Discussion of such a process becomes fruitless when
attempts are made to quantify Christian accretions or Lakota
*This same theme is apparent in a study among the Modern

Tswana of Southern Africa. Cf. Hoyt Alverson's Mind In The
fleaLL_QL_Q§LLpg§§, Yale University Press: New Haven, 1978.

216

residues, and conscious or unconscious reconstructions.'
"Theological speculation,” if it can be called that, has been
shown in this text to happen as a matter of course, when Black
Elk spoke with priests or other catechists, or anyone who
broached the topic. Fools Crow's biography has given

additional examples of this same occurrence. And although a

case has been made for 'In§__§§g;gn__fiipe_ being Black Elk's
Lakota counterpoint to Catholic sacraments, the holy-man's
disposition was not so parochial.* He, unlike those who study
him, seems not to have felt ”the need of coordinating and
systematizing . . . beliefs as strongly as we do” (Durkheim
1965, 193). Hence, an attempt to make Black Elk's thought in
Ihe_£agzed_aipg something that it is not merely confirms the
Lewis indictment of some researchers. Namely, they ”treat
rites rather like a set of clues or a test to be solved by
finding answers that all fit together. It is as though the
cry 'It fits' would convincingly repay the effort and the
ingenuity" (1980, 186).

McGregor's sociological study of Pine Ridge contains a
more fertile perspective on the issues which bore upon Black
Elk toward the end of his life. Given the nature of this
present inquiry, McGregor's work took place at a time which
can only be considered fortuitous. That is, the research he
presented was undertaken during the years between visitations
*Hultkrantz considers Ihg Sacred Pipe ”the most widely read

work on Plains Indian religion" (Capps, 91). As such, it
especially needs the caution offered here.

 

217

by Neihardt and Brown.' And most pertinent is Mcdregor's

comment on religious practice. He writes:

"Christian Churches too appear to be losing

some of their former hold as . . . many Indians are

now following the trend of the local white

population away from control by the Church” (103).
Residents of Pine Ridge, although removed from mainstream
America, were not insulated from the secularizing forces of
the dominant society. World war II contributed to this trend
by drawing large numbers into the armed forces, while
relocation programs similarly expanded the nation's "hoop" of
experience. Such was the unfolding social scene (stated here
in general terms) that Black Elk witnessed. Not only did his
people have a loose hold on traditional religious forms, but
they were also growingly half-hearted in their practice of the
Christian way.

Black Elk's late-life reprimand of the Handerson Catholic
community reveals the kind of discouragement he, as an elder,
endured. Far from being an acknowledgement of his erroneous
Catholic practice, Ihg_§§g;gg_fiip§ was simply another attempt
to rally his people's religious fervor by whatever means were
at his disposal. Earlier in life he respected the Thin Elk
decision to resume traditional, and discontinue Christian,
.participation--not because he felt their choice was
theologically more sound, or because he was indifferent to
their concerns, or because he was vacillating in his own
commitment. Black Elk was not given to charade in such

important matters. He seems to have truly believed that ”to

218

seek, you will find." Hence, the Thin Elk decision, because

8

it was rooted in sincerity, was a journey upon which he could
bestow his blessing. By contrast, the elder Black Elk seems
to have been discouraged by his people abandoning a trek in
any direction.

Elizabeth Grobsmith's recent ethnography on the Rosebud

Lakota succinctly expresses the historical relationship of
Christianity to the Lakota, and the biography here is an

overdue contribution that gives substance to her remarks.

". . . the history of the Christian church . .
will reveal the very deep if ambivalent
relationship between the Indians and the church and
the secure place the church occupies in most
people's lives . . . Although missionaries may have
capitalized on a situation ideal for introducing a
new religion, the Indian people recognized that
those missionaries were not themselves to blame for
the changes; on the contrary, their sympathetic
assistance was deeply appreciated and still is to
this day . . . It is common for the non-Indian
outsider to regard Christianity as alien to the
Indian. But, in fact, nearly all Lakota are
Christians, even those who are also active in native
ritual. For the Indian people themselves, the
church is an integral and important institution in
Lakota society” (1981, 82, 86).

Although the above citation is an academic one, its content
can be translated more concretely into the Black Elk
life-story just concluded. This clarification is perhaps of
most importance to those Grobsmith refers to as ”non-Indian
outsiders,” or even some Native people themselves who, for
whatever reason, have not been familiar with this perspective.

The repetitive emphasis on Black Elk's early Lakota

formation deserves the criticism levied here because it does a

 

219

disservice to the social system now in place among his people.
As admirable a portrait as it might be, Neihardt's Black Elk
can no longer be regarded as enlightening cultural discourse
in quite the same way as before. Nonetheless, toward the end
of my interviews with Lucy, an incident occurred which,
despite this biographical addition, would insure its even
greater longevity..

I was invited to attend a special picnic the family had
planned. Christopher Sergel, a New York playwright, had
composed a work based on Black Elk S eak , and he thought it
important that his "lead" (actor David Carradine) and
entourage visit Black Elk's surviving relatives. Included
with the group was John Neihardt's daughter, Hilda, who served
as the expedition's photographer.

Familiar with Carradine's popular television series "Kung
Fu," the younger members of the family were quite excited to
be hosting such a celebrity. Their enthusiasm was contagious
since the older folk decided to slaughter a cow for this
special occasion--no small thing for people who were quite
destitute. Ironically, this gesture of Lakota hospitality was
not mentioned by anyone and so, their sacrifice went unnoticed
by the featured guest who, it turned out, was practicing
vegetarianism.

The playwright and his wife comported themselves as
grateful guests, and amicably chatted with everyone they met.
They seemed to relish the contrast of this occasion with what

they probably knew back home in an urban environment. Hilda,

220

meanwhile, moved about getting photographs of the visitors
mixing with Lucy's family. The actor's three-year old son,
Free, played with other children who were also present.*
Except for a brief demonstration of his skill in the martial
arts, Carradine kept a low-profile, and responded to the
occasional question directed his way. That is, he did so
until deciding to take a swim in the nearby, swollen creek.

Perhaps assuming his hosts customarily disrobed for such
purposes with little attention to anyone present, Carradine
casually stripped and strode into the water for a swim.
Hurriedly, the older children rounded up the young ones and,
eyes averted, provided the actor with the privacy ordinarily
expected for swimming of this nature. If Carradine realized
his behavior was not in keeping with the local custom, I never
learned because what followed this quickly absorbed everyone's
attention.

One of the visitors suggested that Lucy be pictured.
presenting a pipe to the actor. Directed to an open space,
Lucy was positioned upright as the actor fell to his knees,
arms outstretched, in front of her. Repeatedly corrected by
younger family members as to how one should hold the pipe for
such a pose, Lucy was finally photographed. A kind of
*Introducing myself to the little fellow, I asked his name.

Thinking he had perhaps mispronounced his age, i.e., ”three,"
I said "oh, are you "three?” Whereupon Carradine interjected:

"he told you his name, it's “Free!!" I
then said to the little one, ”oh, and how old are you?” His
reply: "Free" (i.e., "three"). I recently came upon an

article, almost ten years after this event, and read that
Carradine's son's name was "Tom."

 

221

dramatic passing-on of her father's spiritual legacy was thus
staged, the photos of which perhaps used later on for

advertizing purposes in cities far away. Immediately
following Lucy's debut as pipe-holder, the guests bade
farewell and drove to Rapid City in order to connect with
their respective flights home.

The fruits of this encounter between Hollywood and
Lucy's family ripened shortly after, and the play "Black Elk
Speaks" was performed in a number of cities. Tulsa World
columnist Danna Sue Walker reported the following on November
18th, 1983:

”Carradine visited the Black Elk wilderness
in South Dakota with Chris Sergel, who authored the
play, and with Neihardt's daughter, Hilda .
Carradine said the group met with Black Elk's
grandaughter, Lisa Long Hill /sic/, and Lucy Looks
Twice. Lisa performed the peace pipe ceremony with
the three, and Carradine was made to promise he

would play the part of Black Elk. The two women
thought Carradine sounded much like Black Elk . . ."

A brochure put out by the American Indian Theatre Company also
reported that ”Carradine discussed filpgk Elk Speaks with Lucy
Looks Twice, daughter of the holy man. She gladly gave
Carradine permission to play her father in the play.” Both
the columnist and the brochure mentioned that plans were
underway to film the production.

As early as the Fall of 1976, the play had been
performed, with Lisa.Lpne Hill, ppgyL§_pggpggg_g;§pg;d§pgh§gr,
having a small part. Lucy herself had even been flown to

Washington, D.C. as an honored guest of the production. When

222

I inquired as to how she felt about the course of events, Lucy
expressed ambivalence. Extended family members were excited
about involvement with the play and she, too, was provided
with travel opportunities and attention that previously had
not been a part of her life. Accepting the script as simply a
work based on her father's early life, Lucy saw its importance
in terms of calling attention to her people's history. She
wrote that there was interest in the play “since /my father/
was a witness to the Wounded Knee Massacre.” In her opinion,
the twentieth-century part of her father's life was on another
level entirely, and was pretty much disconnected from this
earlier period which the play addressed.

Resurrection of the nineteenth-century Black Elk in the
terms described above relies heavily on its Romantic appeal.
Bolstering this appeal is a portrayal of the holy-man as a
resolute traditionalist--all of which no doubt has its place
both within the worlds of ethnic resurgence, literature,
drama, and the like. As shown, the human appetite for such
representations never seems to be sated.

This is, however, secondary (if not detrimental) to a
proper understanding of how persons like Black Elk actually
withstood and overcame the conflicts generated by the clashing
of cultures. Host of Black Elk's life was occupied with
issues of the post-reservation era, and his efforts were
directed at concerns that still prevail today. Because he was
so involved with the contemporary world, his late-life

grievance should not be construed as Nativistic retreatism.

223

Stated simply, he had Confronted as much as anybody, and still

retained "the power to live." And as mentioned earlier, he

was sad that ”some were not even trying to catch it.'

On the other hand, words attributed the holy-man have
been invoked to rally his people from social torpor, and
application of his thought in this regard is legitimate.
After all, Black Elk was himself a man disposed to making
moral indictments, and his strategy for renewal was framed
within the religious perspective. That is, challenging his
people was well within the holy-man's sense of mission. His
prescription for adjustment was religious--the social or
political agendas presumably flowing from what he deemed
foremost, a spiritual base.

Recently, a "Sioux social worker” commented upon the high
alcoholism rate at Pine Ridge (80-95‘). Her discouragement is
a kind of updated Black Elk who, during his own life,
witnessed the problem arise. According to Fools Crow, the
1930's were "the worst ten years I know of . . . because of
problems caused by intoxicated people . . . such shameful
behavior . . . We discussed many things, but in the end
concluded that the solution was not in our hands, that all we
could do for the moment was to fall back on our prayers"
(1977, 148-49). The social worker's observation is, thus,
cited here for the purpose of conveying a sense of the

holy-man in practical terms--minus the generalized symbols and

images of his persona in W and W:

"People still sit around crying about how it's

 

‘ 224

all the white man's fault for bringing us firewater.

Well, five generations later, we better start taking

some responsibility ourselves--because we are

committing self-genocide, breeding a new generation

of idiots. If it keeps up at this rate, 50 years

from now there won't be a Sioux on the reservation

who can think straight even if he is sober" (Talbert

1986, 98).

Nothing as direct as the above appears in Black Elk
quotations and, as a result, room was left for interpreting
him in broad, humanistic or Nativistic terms. Such were,
however, the kinds of concerns that confronted him in later
life, and to which he applied his religious "solution."
Essentially, Black Elk was a social critic who derived his own
strength and inspiration from the Lakota-Christian religious
sphere and who, in turn, used that framework to challenge his
people unto renewal.. In this sense, his behavior was, indeed,
consistent with the leitmotif of Plains culture and its
holy-men.

Religion was a strategy of adaptation which had served
his people and himself. With its lapse due to the
multifaceted changes accosting Pine Ridge, Black Elk had
little else to offer as a lifegiving alternative. And with
the gradual abandonment of this reflexive religious
disposition, Plains culture was truly undergoing a major
modification.

Previously, readers were left to ponder ”the complexity
of Black Elk." In the end, however, his life and thought are

fairly straightforward. Those who have chosen instead to hunt

for something more sublime or programmatic will, as before,

 

225

never "catch it.'
t t t *
Lucy Looks Twice, the last surviving child of Black Elk,
died on April 23,1978.

* * * *

 

APPENDIX A .

W
W

Anonymous Acoma Indian. ”Autobiography of an Acoma Indian.”
Edited by Leslie White- In W

W Bulletin 136 (1943): 326-37-

Anonymous Arapaho WOman. "Narrative of an Arapaho Woman.“
Edited by Truman Michelson. A.g;i:an_fin§thpplpgig§,35
(1933): 595-610.

Anonymous Cheyenne Old Man. ”A Cheyenne Old Man," tran-

scribed from a 1927 interview. In Cheyenne_and_fiignx;__xhe,

WWW compiled
by Thomas B. Marquis. Edited by Ronald Limbaugh. Pacific

Center for Western Historical Studies, Mpnpgrapn 3 (1973).

Anonymous Fox Wbman. ”The Autobiography of a Fox Woman."
Edited by Truman Michelson. Bureau of American Ethnology,

Aflflflfll.fl£flfl£§ 40: 1918-1919 (1925), 291-349.

Anonymous Southern Cheyenne Woman. ”The Narrative of a
Southern Cheyenne WOman.“ Edited by Truman Michelson.

WW 87: 5 (1932): 13.

Badger, Tom. 'Reminiscences of a Chippewa Hide Priest.“

Edited by Victor Barnouw. Hiaggnsin_§rghagplpgigt 35: 4
(1954): 83-112.

Ball, Eve. see Kaywaykla.
Barnouw, Victor. See Badger.

Barrett, 8. M. See Geronimo.
Bertinez, Jason, with Wilbur S. Nye. L_£pnght_gith_§g;pninp,

New York: Bonanza-Crown, 1959.

Black Eagle. 'Xube, a Ponca Autobiography.“ Edited by

William Whitnnn. W 52 (1939):
180-930

Black Hawk. - - - -
flauk,. Edited by J. B. Patterson. Cincinnati, 1833. Most
recent edition: W- Edited by
Donald Jackson. Urbana: University of Illinois Press,
1964.

Bonnerjea, Biren. See Red Eagle.

Brant, Charles. See Whitewolf.

226

 

227

Chona, Maria. ”Autobiography of a Papago woman.“ Edited by
Ruth Underhill. The American Anthropological Association,

Menei;e_46 (1936): 64; rpt. New York: Kraus Reprint
_Corp., 1971.

Collins, June. See Fornsby.

Crashing Thunder. °
Anezieen_1ndien, Edited by Paul Radin. New York:
Appleton, 1926. This is a revised and considerably
expanded version of the work listed under 8. B.

------ . "Personal Reminiscences of a Winnebago Indian.“
Edited by Paul Rodin. W 26
(1913): 293-318. Text in English and Winnebago.

Dyk, Walter. See Left-Handed, and Old Mexican.

Fools Crow, Frank. [eele_gzegg Edited by Thomas E. Mails,
assisted by Dallas Chief Eagle. New York: Discus-Avon-
Doubleday, 1979.

Fornsby, John. “John Fornsby: The Personal Document of a
Coast Salish Indian." Edited by June Collins. In Lndiene,
W. Edited by Harlan V- Blith-
W 36

(1949); rpt. New York: AMS Press, 1969.

Geranium. Semi-WM taken down and
edited by S. M. Barrett. New York: Duffield, 1906; rpt.
Williamstown, Mass.: Corner House Publishers, 1973. See
also the slightly abridged paperback edition with an
introduction and notes by Frederick W. Turner, III. New
York: Ballantine-Random House, 1970.

Goodblrd. Edward- W- Edited
by Gilbert L. Wilson. New York: Fleming H. Revell Co.,
1914.

Good Shot, Oscar. “Oscar Good Shot, A Sioux Farmer.“

e_flniee_fieldiee, compiled by Thomas B. Marquis. Edited by
Ronald Lambaugh. Pacific Center for Western Historical
Studies, upneezeph 3, (1973). A condensed version appeared

as "The Autobiography of a Sioux," in Cenen;y_flegezine,ll3
(December, 1926): 182-88.

Iron Teeth. "Iron Teeth, A Cheyenne Old Woman." Cheyenne

WW
Seldiez, compiled by Thomas B. Marquis. Edited by Ronald
Limbaugh. Pacific Center for Western Historical Studies,
Menageepn 3, (1973). A condensed version appeared as "Red

Pipe's Squaw,“ in Cen;n;y_flagezine 118 (June, 1929):
201-9.

228

Kaywaykla, James.

. Edited by Eve Ball. Tucson:
University of Arizona Press, 1970.

Kenoi, Samuel E. 'A Chiricahua Apache's Account of the
Geronimo Campaign of 1886.“ Edited by Morris E. Opler.
W 13 (1938): 360-86.

Kluckhohn, Clyde. See Mr. Moustache.

Left-Handed . WWW-
Recorded by Walter Dyk, with an introduction by Edward
Sapir. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1938; rpt. Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press, 1967.

Lowry. Annie. Wanna. Edited by ballot
Scott. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1966.

Lurie, Nancy 0. See Mountain Wolf WOman.
Mails, Thomas E. See Fools Crow.

Marquis, Thomas B. See Anonymous Cheyenne Old Man, Good
Shot, Tangled Yellow Hair, WOoden Leg, Iron Teeth.

Michelson, Truman. See Anonymous Arapaho Woman, Anonymous
Fox Woman, Anonymous Southern Cheyenne Woman.

Mountain Wolf Woman. Was—81mm

Edited by Nancy 0. Lurie. Ann Arbor: The University of
Michigan Press, 1961.

Mr. Moustache. "A Navajo Personal Document with a Brief
Paretian Analysis.“ Edited by Clyde Kluckhohn. Senna;
WW); 1 (1945): 260-83-

Murray, Edith V. A. See Young.

Nabokov, Peter. See Two-Leggings.

Newland, Sam and Stewart, Jack.
as told to Julian H. Steward. University of California
Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 33: 5
(1934): 423-38.

Nowell, Charles J.

We
Kunkin;1_§hie£, Edited by Clellan S. Ford. New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1941; rpt. Hamden, Conn.: Archon
Books, 1968.

Nye, Wilbur 8. See Bertinez.

229

Old Mexican. WWW. Edited by
Walter Dyk. Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology, no.
8 (1947); rpt. New York: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1970.

Opler, Morris. See Kenoi.

Otterby, Thomas. See Red Eagle.

Patterson, J. B. See Black Hawk.

Radin, Paul. See Crashing Thunder, and S. B.

Red Eagle. 'Reminiscences of a Cheyenne Indian.” Edited by
Biren Bonnerjea. '

de_£e;ie_27 (1935): 129-43.

8. 8. WW. Edited by
Paul Radin. University of California Publications in
American Archaeology adn Ethnology, no. 16 (1920): 381-
473. This is the Indian whose story Radin redoes as
Crashing Thunder; he is the brother of the real Crashing
Thunder, subject of Radin's 1913 ”Personal Reminiscences of
a Winnebago Indian.”

Scott, Lalla. See Lowry.

Sewid, James. :
WWII- Edited by James P-
Spradley. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1969.

Simmons, Leo. See Talayesva.
Spradley, James P. See Sewid.
Steward, Julian. See Newland, and Stewart.

Stewart, Jack and Newland, Sam.
as told to Julian H. Steward. University of California
Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol.
33, no. 5 (1934): 424-38.

Tangled Yellow Hair, James. ”James Tangled Yellow Hair, A
Cheyenne Scout." °
compiled by Thomas B.
Marquis. Edited by Ronald Limbaugh, Pacific Center for
Western Historical Studies, unneeeenn 3 (1973). From a
1927 interview.

Underhill, Ruth. See Chona.

Talayesva, Don. '
Indian, Edited by Leo Simmons. New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1942; rpt. Yale, 1970.

Two-Leggings - WW;-
Edited by Peter Nabokov. New York: Thomas Crowell, 1967.

 

 

230

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APPENDIX B .

APPENDIX B

Eglggy given at the funeral pf Benjamin Black Elk
Manderson, South Dakota, February 28, 1973 Ex Paul
Steinmetz, S.J.

If”);

 

We come here today as a faith community to celebrate the

eternal life of Benjamin Black Elk. For we know that his
soul lives on and enters into the spirit world.

Benjamin came from a great tradition. He had a father
who was very important in the life of the Oglala Sioux. His
father, Nicholas Black Elk, was perhaps the greatest Lakota
Mystic in the history of this reservation. He was the "St.

John of the Cross" of the Oglala Sioux people.* And from his
vision he derived from God a gift of prophecy and a gift of
healing which was very great.

But amidst these visions, we see in a Lakota holy-man

the seeds of Christ were planted. He not only was converted
to the Catholic Church, but he became one of the greatest
Catholic catechists on the reservation. Probably no man is

more responsible for the implanting of the Catholic Church at
Handerson than Nicholas Black Elk. This is the part of his
life that is not well enough known.

I can remember Ben tell me that this was the chapter in
Black Elk Speaks that was not yet written. It is wonderful
that in this book, a great gift to both the Indian people and
mankind, we have the visions of this holy man revealed to us.
Yet Ben said that this book was incomplete . . . that someday
he would have to write the last chapter of his father as a
Catholic catechist establishing the Church here in Handerson.
And he said that this would be the greatest and the most
important chapter of his father’s life.

And so it is fitting then, that Ben Black Elk had this
spiritual training from his father -- training in two
religious traditions. It would be a preparation for a very
unusual life. Many years ago now, Ben Black Elk rode through
the Hills -- the Black Hills -- seeking the spirit of his son
Benjamin Junior who had passed into the other world. And it
was this search that eventually led to his involvement at
Mount Rushmore.

 

 

*John of the Cross (1542-91) was a Carmelite monk who
established several monasteries in Spain. He is regarded as
one of Christianity’s great mystics.

232

233

I think we have here an example of a proud Indian whO‘
greeted literally millions of people for over a quarter of a
century.« And I remember seeing him being so wonderful and
being so open to small children. He had a winning way with
the little children at Mount Rushmore. I would reflect on
the Gospel story of Christ calling the little children to
himself and not having them turned away. Ben Black Elk won
the heart of the American people. He certainly was an
ambassador of Good Will. He captured the heart of America.

But I think there is a much more important side to Ben
Black Elk. There is his religious side. I can remember
talking to him in his home about his religious searching,
about his seeking to understand his own religious traditions,
trying to understand more deeply the life experience of his
father that he had interpreted for the world in Black Elk
Speaks and The Sacred Pipe.

He was not satisfied with the understanding he had. He
was seeking for a deeper and deeper understanding. Ben Black
Elk was also a very deep Catholic. Ben, along with all
mankind -- all of us -- would sin and fail against almighty
God. However, from my own personal experience, I know that
he had a deep faith in the sacrament of Confession. He knew
that there was a sacred power in the absolution of the
priest. He knew that he had a religious ceremony of
purification to which he could go whenever it was needed. I
have seen him receive this sacrament with great sincerity,
faith, and feeling.

One particular night we were talking together about the

 

vision of his father -- the relationship of the Lakota
religion and his Catholic faith. We talked about this
because both of these meant very much to him. We began to
talk about the fact that there was no conflict between the
two. We discussed about how the Pipe would lead a person to

Christ, how the Sacred Pipe was a foreshadowing of Christ in
his great office of mediator, in his great office of bringing
man back to the Great Spirit.

We talked then how the two could be fulfilled -- how
Christ fulfilled the tradition of the Sacred Pipe, and how
Christ is the living and eternal Pipe. And then Ben made a
very startling confession to me. He said that through most
of his life there was a conflict between these two
traditions. He did have doubts of conscience when he
lectured on the Sacred Pipe. When he had a belief in the
Sacred Pipe was he betraying himself as a Christian? He said
that now he sees the two have become one, that the Sacred
Pipe and Christ really are one, that they fulfill each other.

Now the doubts of conscience of many years were ended.
Now he had real spiritual peace in his soul. And so it was
this shared vision of the Sacred Pipe leading the Indian
people to Christ as the living and eternal Pipe -- it was
this shared vision then which made a deep impression on both
of us. And this is what I would like to call the vision of
Benjamin Black Elk.

234

In a way this vision is much more powerful and much more
needed today than even the vision of his father, Nicholas
Black Elk. I think that this is a vision that would be well
for all of us to consider as we look up now to the wisdom of
our elders —- the vision that we should take to heart, a
vision that we should pray over, and a vision that we should
explore. It is Christ, the God-man, who gathers from the
four directions the entire universe and carries it back to
the Great Spirit in a way that fulfills the Sacred Pipe and
does not destroy it.

I think, then, that this vision of Christ was a very
important thing in the life of Benjamin Black Elk. I think
that it will help others as they bring the living Oglala
Sioux culture to the people today. I believe that this
vision can become a foundation of the important work then of
Sioux culture which is beginning to come alive on this
reservation.

And so now we gather together to celebrate the eternal
life of this great man, a man who holds out to us the hope of
a better and a more spiritual life. In the reading from
Prophet Isaiah, what a wonderful picture it is of our life in
heaven. On the mountain the Lord of hosts will provide for
all people. He will prepare a feast -- in which we are going
to have a great deal of joy -- where God will wipe away the
tears from all faces. He will take away our shame and our
reproach. This is the heavenly feast which all of us someday
will share. This is the heavenly feast which the mass is but
the sign and the foreshadowing.

We gather at the eucharistic feast because it will lead
us someday to the heavenly feast to which Ben Black Elk has
been called. Very early in the Church when Christians were
called to Christ, they received power. That is what Nicholas
Black Elk certainly had -- power as a holy-man and power as a
Catholic catechist. I think this is what Benjamin inher-
ited —- an influence and a power over people -— which will
enable his name and his memory to go on for a very long time.

Ben was very much impressed with the ceremony of the
Sacred Pipe at the grave side as he saw it performed for his

friends. In this ceremony Ben made his great act of faith:
Christ is the resurrection and the life -- "if anyone
believes in me, he will not die forever.” He will not die

spiritually, but his life will go on.

Our Lord asked Benjamin that very same question he asked
Martha: "Do you believe this?" And along with Martha,
Benjamin said "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah
the one who is to come to save the world." And then in that
cabin that night -- when he could see that Christ was the
living and eternal Pipe -- this act of faith and this vision
brought both of his religious traditions together. And I
feel deep in my heart that this is the greatest achievement
of Benjamin Black Elk.

This is the crown of his spiritual life, the destination
of his spiritual gropings. This is the vision, then, which

235

we are all welcome to share in. This is his heritage to the
Oglala Sioux. And so let us open our hearts.
We turn now to the relatives, to those close to him,

dear to him, to those who are going to miss him so much, and
to the countless people that have such a deep love and
affection for Ben Black Elk. We turn to them and we ask

all these people now to open up their hearts to the Holy
Spirit —- to let the spirit of Christ come in with peace,
with understanding, with acceptance of God’s will -- God who
is a loving Father . . . with the belief that God directs the
lives of each one of us -- including the life of Ben --
according to his best plan to lead us to salvation. We open
our hearts up to the hope of resurrection. We open our
hearts up to the peace of Christ -- that same peace which Ben
had that night in his cabin.

Let the Holy Spirit then come into our lives. And may
the blessings of Almighty God descend upon each and every one
of us. Amen.

Let us pray. We gather our prayers, this faith
community, through the Sacred Pipe in the name of Jesus
Christ to pray that the soul of Ben Black Elk may be purified
of any stain of sin; that his soul be taken up by the holy
angels to his true home in heaven; that there he will share
the vision of God as He is and enjoy eternal happiness.

Let us pray for those who are close and dear to him,
that the Holy Spirit may give them hope and courage, joy and
peace; that they may have faith to believe that God is a
loving Father who has called their loved one back to Himself;
that God may protect this reservation and all people living
here from all harm and all danger; that He may guide each one
of us so that we may give ourselves in such a way that this
community will be a better community.

Let us pray for all those who are sick, discouraged,
lonely; all those who are poor, all those who need God’s help
the most; that there may be an education in which the Sioux
culture will become a vital living part of the life of our
people. For all our intentions let us pray, O Almighty God,
we offer you our prayers through the Sacred Pipe. Purify the
soul of Benjamin, give him eternal happiness and eternal
rest. We ask you this through Our Lord Jesus Christ, the
Living and Eternal Pipe. Amen. -

APPENDIX C

APPENDIX C

INSTRUCTION BX MEANS 92 THE TWO ROADS

 

 

Itowapi kin le canku nupa eciyapi; canku waste kin, na

canku sice kin. Canku waste kin mah’piya ekta iyaye, na
canku sice kin wakan sica ti ekta iyaye.

Man’piya ekta unyanpi kta uncinpi ehantans, taku yamni
econk’unpi kta iyececa: 1 -- Taku tona Wakantanka ya’otanin
kin wicaunlapi kte. 2 -— Wakantanka tawoope kin unkopapi
kte. 3 —- Wowakan sakowin kin unkicupi kte. 4 -- Wakantanka
wanji la, tka Wakantanka el yamnipi kin he ohounlapi kte,
Ateyapi kin na Cinca kin na Woniyan Wakan kin. Hena yamni
Wakantanka wanjila. Taku oyasin sakib yuhapi: akilececapi.
Wookahinige wanjila, tawacin wanjilapi.

Wakantanka woniyan un on welo. Tancan yuha sni, na yuha
kta iyececa sni. Wakantanka iyotan tanka: taku oyasin

okihi, taku oyasin slolye na man’piya na maka ko el un welo.
Wakentanka taku oyasin Ite tawacin on kage.

Tokahsya ogligle wicakage na waste wicakage, tka os’paye
wanji Wakantanka oholapi sni na heun hena ih’pewicaye na

kakis’wicaye. Hena owihanke wanil wakan sica ti el kakijapi
kte. Tona Wakantanka anagoptanpi kin hena mah’piya el unpi.
Hehan Wakantanka taku tona wanyang’pica kin kage: maka

na m’ni, can na wanah’ca, anpetu wi kin, hanhepi wi kin, na
wicah’pi, hogan kin m’ni e1 na zintkala hehanl wamakaskan kin
na wicasa kin ehakela kage. Wicasa tokaheya kin he Adam
eciyapi na winyan tokaheya kin he Eva eciyapi. Wakantanka
wicasa na winyan tokaheya kin waste wicagage, na maka akanl
itancan wickage. Hena ecela Wakantanka slolyapi na oholapi
na wastelakapi okihipi, heon. Na nakun Tye cincapi hena
wicakage. Waniyetu conala maka akan tanyan nipi kta na
Wakantanka wastelakapi kte na hehanl t’api sni mah’piya ekta
yapi kta. Makoce waste wan el Adam na Eva ewicagnaka na hel
lila tanyan impi. Tka tehan hel unpi sni. Wakantanka tehan
anagoptanpi sni, heon. Hehan Wakantanka hena makoce waste
etanhan tankal ih’pewicaye na waniyetu ota tehiya unpi,
kakijapi, h’tanipi na t’api. Yunkan Wakantanka hena ogligle
sica iyecel ih’pewicaye sni, onsiwicala na Wanikiya wan
iwahowicaye na nakun wicak’u, waniyetu 4000 iyohakab.
Icunhan Adam na Eva Wakanhejacota wicayuhapi. Yunkan
tokaheya yuhapi kin (Cain) na isunkaku wan (Abel) he tikte
yelo. Itahena maka akan wicasa ota, tka scaya skanpi.
Wowah’tani ota econpi. Heon m’nitan tanka wan el t’api; na

236

 

237

estan 8 heceglala nipi (Noah na tiwahe ataya) wata ogna
yankapi na nini; hena ecela wastepi kin heon.

Itahena aka wicasa ota icagapi, tka ake sicaya skanpi.
Heon Wakantanka nakun hena ota akigle kakiswicaye. Conala
wastepi: Abraham na Isaad na Jacob na samp’ icincapi k’un
hena. Hena canku waste kin ogna yapi. Na wicasa unmapi kin
iyuha ocanku sica kin ogna manipi.

Tona Abraham ateyapi kin, hena Wakantanka lila yanyan
awanwicayanke na woope wikcemna kin wicak’u: oyate kin le
etanhan Wanikiye kin icagin kte kin, heon. Wakantanka oyate
kin le wicabe waste’ste ota wicak’u. Wicass wok'can (Wa-
ayata) ewicakiyapi kin hena epi. Lena oyate kin taku waste
ota onspewicakiyapi, na Wanikiya wan u kte k’un akes’sna
kiksuyewicayapi.

Juda oyate Wakantanka ohiniyan oholapi na tipi wakan
tanka el wesnapi k’upi. Icunhan oyate unmapi kin oyasin
wakantanka tok’tokeca ota oholapi nains wakan sica eikiya
woilak’ic’iyapi na wosnapi k’upi.

Waniyetu 4000 Wakantanka wicasa kagin na iyohakab
Wanikiye hi na Bethlehem el tonpi. Waniyetu 33 maka akanl ni
un; waniyetu 30 Nazareth e1 o’unye na wowasi ikce ka ecun na
lecel tokaheya wicoh'an on onspeunkiyapi.

Hehanl waniyetu 3 Juda oyate na unkiyepi eyasin wicoiye
on mah’piya canku kin onspeqicaye na awicakehan Wakantanka un
kin he wowapetokeca tanka on wicakipazo.

Hehan unkiyepi on iyecinka kakije na t’e na h’api. Tka
anpetu iciyamni el ake kini. Ake anpetu 4O maka akanl ni un,
Okolakiciye kin tanyan yustan na hehanl mah'piya ekta iyaye;
wana mah’piya el yanke.

Wanikiya Wakantanka Winhintku, Wakantanka Ateye na Mary
witansna un wakan kin Inaye. St. Joseph ihan’han ateye. He
Jesus cik’ala kin hehan awanyanke, na he Wakantanka hecel
ecun si.

Jesus wicasa un na Wakantanka un. i. e. (he kapi) taku
tena wicasa tawa hena yuha na taku tona Wakantanka tawa hena
yuha, he kapi.

Heon wicasa tancan na nagi, wo’okahnige na tawacin yuha
na Wakantanka to’okahnige na tawacin na wowas’ake kin yuha.

Heon Iye iyotan tanka; na lila wasteunlakapi. Heon unkiyepi
Jesus lila ohounlapi na wasteunlakapi kta iyececa na taku
tona econ unspip cantewasteya econkunpi kta iyececa. Hecel

tokate Iye kici oihanke wanil mah’piya ekta unkiyuskinpi kte.
Tona Wanikiye wastelakapi sni na taku tona econ wicasi

kin econpi sni, hena wicont’e kin iyohakab oihanke wanil

kakijapi kte wokan sica ti e1. Ho, hena tokaheya kisuyapo.

 

Nakun Okolakiciye tawa kin tanyan anaungoptanpi kta

iyececa. Jesus caje kin el onspeunkiyapi na mah’piya canku
kin unkipazopi, heun; "Tuwa nanih’unpi kin he, namah’ un,"
Jesus hecel eye 10. Wanikiya hi sni itokab oyate oyasin

oiyokpaza wan el unpi, heon omaka iyohi hecel unkupi. Tka

238

Wanikiya maka kin le aojanjan ye, na hetan tahenakiya
iyojanjanyan unkupi. Wana ojanjan wan el unk’unpi na
Wanikiya na Taokolakiciye kin anpetu wi kin he iyecelya
mah’piya ocanku kin unkipazopi.

ngggfig 19 PICTURE "TWO ROADS" YEARS BEFORE CHRIST IN BLACK;

 

THOSE AFTER IN RED." 12-10-31
II
Wakantanka woope wikcemna kin unk’upi. Hena tanyan
unkopapi kta iyececa, mah’piyata unyanpi uncinpi ehantans.
Mount Sinai el Wakantanka tokaheya woope wikcenma Moses
i’yohlokya unk’upi. Wakantanka unkagapi. Heon Itancan
unkitawapi, na heon woope unk’upi okihi; iye he owaja. He

wiceh’an tawa.

1-TOKAHEYA: Wakantanka isnala ohounlapi kta; wowicala
on, woape on, woape on, wowastelake on na
wocekiye on.

Ogligle wakan na wakan wastepi kin hena unyuonihanpi kte
na wastewicaunlakapi kte; Wakantanka hena kolawicaye na
cincawicaye kin, heon.

Z-INUNPA: Wakantanka caje kin unyuonihanpi kte.

3-ICIYAMNT: Anpetu wakan (Mass) wosnapi unkopapi kte na
wowaski ikceka econk’ unpi kte sni.

4—ITOPA: Wakanheja atewicayapi na inawicayapi kin na
tona ate na ina ostan wicayuhapi kin hena
anawicagoptanpi, wicayuonihanpi na
wastewicunlakapi kta iyececa.

5—IZAPTAN: Wacasa oyasin tanyan wicunkuwapi kte, tokel
unkuwapi uncinpi, he iyecel.

6 & 9-ISAKPE na INAPCIYUNKA: Taku sapa econk’unpi na
unkeyapi na unkiyuk’ canpi kte na
awauncinpi kte sni.

7 & 10-ISAKOWIN na IWIKCEMNA: Taku unkitawapi sni kin
nah’mala unkicupi kte sni na nakun
kiun’niunyanpi kte sni. Owewakanpi
unkoklakapi kte sni na tuweni caje

unyusicapi kte sni.
OKOLAKICYTE WOOPE

Anpetu wakan (Mass) wosnapi unkopapi kta. Waniyetu
otoiyohi wakan woglakapi unkagapi kte. Waniyetu otoiyohi

239

Yutapi Wakan ecuh’ci wancala unkicupi kta (Easter itokab nain
iyohakab.) Wocekiye wicoh’an o’unkiyapi kta tohanyan
unkokihipi, hohanyan.

 

WICOH’AN SICA SAKOWIN IYOTAN UNKIPAJINPI KTE KIN HENA LENA E;

 

1 -- Witantanpi kin he.
2 -- Maka woyuha ecela akitapi kin he.
3 —— Wi’inah’mapi wicoh’an na taku tona he el aikoyako

kin hena.
4 -— Winzeizipi kin he.

5 -- Lila wotapi (wisicawacinpi) nains lila mni-wakan
yatkanpi kin he.

6 -- Wocanzeke (na teanhan wauntonyanpi) kin he.

~J

-- Skankapi-pi (takuni waste econpi cinpi sni) kin he.

Hena iyuha lila unkipajinpi kta.

III

WOWAKAN SAKOWIN KIN HE.

 

Wanikiya taku wakan (wicoh’an wakan) sakowin unk’upi, na
hena un wakan unkagapi na ounkiyapi, hecel Wakantanka woope
tanyan unkopapi kta na hecel mah’piya ekta wiconi kin he
unkiglamnapi unkokihipi kte.

 

 

1--MNIAWICAKASTANPI KIN HE.

 

Mniawicakastanpi kin he on Wakantanka cinca unkagapi.
Wakantanka towastelake kin he hel unkicupi. He wokoyake
waste-ste koyakunyanpi iyecelya wicasa wakan kin he unk’upi.

2--WICAYUSUTAPI WAKAN KI HE.

 

 

Wicayusutapi wakan kin he on Woniyan Wakan unkicupi, na
Woniyan Wakan kin he en sampa wakan unkagapi na iyoyamunyanpi
na wasagunyanpi, hecel wowicala unkitawapi kin ogna Wanikiya
taakicita waste iyecel unskanpi unkokihipi kte. Wicasa wakan
Itancan Bishop, he unk’upi.

240

3--YUTAPI WAKAN KIN HE.

1 —- He unnagipi kin tawoyute na he e1 Wanikiya Iye
ceh’pi kin unkicupi, tancan na ve na nagi tawa,
Wanikiye wicasa un na Wakantanka un k’un unkicupi.

2 -- Aguyapi na mnisa yutekecapi na aguyapi na mnisa
o'wanyanke imahel Jesus unkicupi.

3 -- Aguyapi ca unkicipi sni.

4 -- Jesus hecel unkokiyakapi, heon slolunyanpi;
"Mitancan le e, mawa kin le e." eye.

5 -- Yutapi wakan un unnagipi kin nipi kte na sampa

wakan na wasakin kte.

6 -- Yutapi wakan unkicupi sni itokab, wakan wounglakapi
na hecel unnagipi kin skaya unglujajapi.

Na hehanl Jesus unkicupi: Jesus micante ekta u ye,
wastecilake, u ye. Na hehanl hanhepi mazaskanskan ake-nupa
hetanhan takuni unyutapi nains unyatkanpi kte sni na ya
onihanyan Yutapi Wakan unkicupi kta.

MASS--WOSNAPI WAKAN KIN HE.

Mass wosnapi kin el aguyapi na mnisa yutekecapi na on
Jesus tancan us we wakan ni un kin kagapi na Jesus waiglusna.
Heon lila wakanyan na oholaya unkopapi kte.

Tipi wakan e1 Jesus ohiniyan yonke. Heon iyuskinyan
ekta unyanpi na yuonihanyan Jesus kici wounglakapi kte na
taku tona uncinpi kin hena unkilapi kta.

Jesus Yutapi Wakan kin el un kin lila wastelakapi kta na
ota akiglo unkicupi kte, he iyotan waste na on lila
unyawastepi kte. HE KIKSUYAPO!!!

4—-WAKAN WOGLAKAPI KIN HE.

Tona mniawicakastanpi iyohakab wowah’tani tanka econpi,
Wakantanka lila siglayapi na he on Wakan woglakapi kta
iyececa. He tanyan econpi ehantans, wicasa wakan kin
wowah'tank kin hena wicakicipajuju okihi Jesus wowasake kin
le wicaz’u, heon. Yunkan wicasa hececa kin he taku zaptan
econ kte kin he lena e:

1 -- Wowah'tani oconpi kin hena tanyan kiksuye ic’iyapi
kte kin he. ‘

2 -- Cante ataya on iyopeic’iyapi kte kin he.

3 -- Ake wowah’tani econ kte sni sutaya ic’iconzin kte

kin he.

241

4 -- Owotanla wowah’tani tanka iyuha wicasa wakan itokab
oglakin kte kin he-

5 -- Wicoh’an tona wicasa wakan econ si, econ kta
iyececa. Lena awicakehan na wicakeya econ
ehantans, wowah'tani iyuha pajujupi kta.

5--EHAKE IWICAYUNPI WAKAN KIN HE.
Tona lila kujapi, he icupi kta na heon iwasakapi kte.
6--WICASA WAKAN KAGAPI KIN HE.

Heon wicasa wastepi heca wicasa wakan towasake icupi.
He wicoh’an iyotan tanka na wakan kin heca.

7-—WAKAN KICIYUZAPI KIN HE.

He nakun wicoh’an wakan heca na on wicasa na winyan
woksape na wowasake icupi, hecel tanyan skanpi kta na
wakanheja tawapi mah’piya ekta awica’upi ehihipi. Jicasa
Wakan kin itokab oconpi kta iyececa.

EHAKELA LENA EPIN KTE to
l; TAKU YAMNI TANYAN UNYAHAPI KTA IYECECA KIN HENA LENA g;

1-—WOWICALA: Taku tena Wakantanka yaotanin kin sutaya
wicaunlapi kte. Wakatanka taku oyasin
slolye na owewakankan okihi sni, heon.

2—-WOAPE: Taku tona Wakantanka iwaheunyanpi kin, hena
awauncinpi na ape unk’ unpi kte. Iye
wowicake na hena Jesus en etanhan
unk’upi kta keye lo, heon.

3--WOWASTELAKE: Wakantanka taku oyasin isampa
wasteunlakapi kta na Ite on etanhan
wicasa oyasin wastewicunlakapi kta.

2--OKOLAKICIYE KIN HE.
Wanikiye taekolakiciye taku tepa on slolunyanpi kte:

He, WANJILA, OWANCAYA, WAKAN, Wakosyapi taanpetupi kin he
ciystanhan u kin heon.

 

Okolakiciye unmapi kin hena nahanr’oi waniyetu 400
ihun’nipi sni, owanjila najinpi sni, owancaya hecapi sni,
wakan sni; hena mah’piya ekta unkayapi okihipi sni; heon hena
unkopapi unkokihipi sni. Sina Sapa Okolakiciye tanyan

unkopapi ehontans owotanla Wakantanka ti ekta unyanpi kta.
Heon he econk'unpi kte na sutaya unkic’ iconzapi kta.

242

3--PURGATORY TOKEL KAPI KIN HE.

 

Tona wowah’tani cis’cila el t’api kin, wiconi unma e1
wokakije oyanke wan ol skaya glujajapi kta, na hena wocekiye
on owicunkiyapi unkokohipi.

4--COMMUNION OE SAINTS
Tona mah’piya el unpi kin, na tona Purgatory el kakijapi
kin na tena maka akan Okolakiciye opapi kin, hena

kolakiciyapi na okiciyapi okihipe lo. Henala epe lo.

AMEN.

 

APPENDIX D

 

APPENDIX D

INSTRUCTION BX MEANS OE THE TWO ROADS

 

This picture is called the two roads; the good road, and
the bad road. The good road leads to Heaven, and the bad
road to the home of the devil.

If we desire to go to Heaven, three things we must
observe: 1——We must believe all what God has revealed.
2--We must observe the commandments of God. 3--We must
receive the seven Sacraments. 4--There is one God, but there
are three persons in God whom we must adore, the Father the
Son and the Holy Ghost. Those three are one God. They
possess all things: All alike. One Wisdom, one Mind.

God is the living Spirit. He has no body, and doesn’t
need to have any. God is very Great: Can do all things, He
knows everything, and is in Heaven and on earth. God made
everything according to His will:

First He created angels and made them good, but a part
of them failed to adore God so He cast them away and made
them to suffer. They will suffer for all eternity in the
home of the devil. Those who were obedient to God are now in
Heaven.

Then God created those things that could be seen: The
earth and water, trees and flowers, the sun, the moon, and
the stars. The fish in the water and the birds, then the
animals and lastly He created man. The first man’s name was
Adam and the first woman’s name was Eve. God created the
first man and the first woman very perfectly, and made them
to be rulers of the earth. Those are the only ones to know
God and could adore and love Him, hence. He also made their
descendants. They were to live on earth for a few winters
but to love God and they were to enter Heaven without dying a
death. So God placed Adam and Eve in a very good land and
there they lived happily. But they did not stay there very
long. Because they did not obey God.

So then God drove them out of the good land, cast them
away and for many years they lived in hardship, suffered, at
hard labor then died. But God did not cast them away like He
did to the bad angels, he pitied them and promised them a
Saviour and did give it to them, 4000 years later. In the
meantime Adam and Eve had many children. Their oldest son

243

244

was (Cain) and his brother (Abel) who was killed. Since that
time the earth populated, but all lead bad lives. They have
committed many sins. Therefore they were punished and died

in the big flood; but eight in number lived (Noah and his
family) were saved in a boat; because they were good.

Again the earth populated, but lived wickedly.
Therefore God caused them much trouble and made them suffer.
A very few were good; the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob were good. They follow on the good road. And the
others follow on the bad road.

The descendants of Abraham, God loved and took good care
of them and thus gave them the ten commandments; because from
this tribe the promised Saviour would be born. God gave this
tribe some very good men. Men with talent (Prophets) as they
are called. These men taught many good lessons in their
tribe, and repeatedly reminded them of the coming of the
Saviour.

The Judah Tribe always adored God by offering sacrifice
to Him in their big temples. In the meantime the other
people worshiped different gods and were very much in service
towards the devil.

Four thousand years after the creation of man God sent

the promised Saviour who was born in Bethlehem. The Saviour
lived for 33 years on earth; for 30 years He lived in
Nazareth and rendered common labor thereby teaching us an
example.

For three years He taught the people of\Judah by counsel
including us the road to Heaven and showing to us and proving
to us that He is the true God by some wonderful miracles.

On our account He gave Himself to suffer, died and was
buried. But after three days he rose from the dead. He

lived and remained 40 days on earth. He instituted His
Church permanently and then went to Heaven; he dwells in
Heaven now.

The Saviour is the son of God. God is His Father and
the Holy Virgin Mary His mother. St. Joseph is His foster-
father. When Jesus was yet small he watched over Him, and
God commanded him to do this.

Jesus lived as Man and lived as God (i.e., for instance,

he possessed all what men possess and as God what God
possessed, thus is the meaning).

Thus as a man He possessed body and soul, understanding

and mind and as God he possessed wisdom, intellect and power}
Therefore He is the Greatest; and loves us most dearly.
Hence we should honor and love Jesus by observing His will
and we must fulfill all He wants us to do in all good will.
And thereby in the future we will be happy with Him in Heaven
for all eternity.

Those who have no love for the Saviour and who are not
obedient to His will, and when death takes them they will
suffer forever with the devil in his home. Therefore first,
remember these things.

 

245

We should be obedient as well as dutiful to His Church.
Because His name Jesus is taught to us and His road to Heaven

is shown to us: "He who listens to you, listens to me,"
Jesus said. Those people who lived before Jesus came lived
in the dark, so we also live year after year. But Jesus came

and brought light to earth, and hence we live in His light.
We are now living in the light of the Saviour and His Church
and His road to Heaven is presented to us which is bright
like that of the sun.

REFERS :9 PICTURE "TWO ROADS" YEARS BEFORE CHRIST lg BLACK,
THOSE AFTER 15 RED

 

God gave us the ten commandments. We should observe
these very carefully, if we want to enter heaven. God gave
us these commandments on Mount Sinai the first time through
Moses. God created us. Therefore He is our Master, and He
could give us commandments; it is His right. It is His
authority.

FIRST: We must honor God; by Faith, by Hope, by
Loving Him and by Prayer.

We must respect the angels and Saints and we should love
them; because they are the friends and children of God.

SECOND: We must honor the name of God.

THIRD: We must attend Holy Mass on Sundays and must
not work on that day.

FOURTH: We must honor and love our parents and guard-
ians as well as to obey them.

FIFTH: We must treat all men good, as we expect them
to treat us.

SIXTH & NINTH: We must not commit dirty actions or tell
about dirty actions or even think about dirty
actions.

SEVENTH & TENTH: We must not wrongfully take things
that do not belong to us or injure anyone’s
property. We must not tell lies or ruin the
good name of others.

24o

OKOLAKICIYTE WOOPE

We must attend Holy Mass on Sundays. We must go to
Confession every year. We must receive Holy Communion at
least once a year on Easter Sunday (before or after). We

must help support the Church according to our means.

 

THE SEVEN CAPITAL SINS WHICH WE SHOULD FIGHT AGAINST

 

 

 

1 -— The sin of Pride.
2 —— The sin of Covetousness.
3 —— The sin of Lust, stealing women, and other sins

in this class.

4 —- The sin of Envy or to be jealous of others.

5 -- The sin of Gluttony eating too much or drinking
whiskey.

6 -- The sin of Anger by injuring others through anger.

7 -- The sin Sloth or laziness causes one to neglect the

good will of a man.

ALL OF THESE SINS WE MUST ALWAYS FIGHT AGAINST.

III

THE SEVEN SACRAMENTS AS FOLLOWS

 

 

The Saviour’s mystery of the gift of the (holy
sacraments) were seven in number, and with these it helps us
to become holy, thus it will give us the divine strength to
observe the commandments of God and thereby gain the heavenly
reward and that we must gain by our own merits.

1--The Baptism

 

The sacrament of baptism makes us the children of God.
In this sacrament we receive the love of God. It is just
like putting some nice garments on our person but only the
holy priests are given this power to give us.

2--The Confirmation

 

In this sacrament of Confirmation we receive the Holy
Ghost, and the Holy Ghost then gives us light, strengthens

247

and makes us holy, so that we will be more able to march in
the line of our faith as the Saviour’s Soldiers of good
merits. We receive this sacrament through the power of the

Holy Bishop.
3--The Holy Eucharist

1 —— This is the food for our souls and it is really the
Saviour's Body that we receive, His body and His
own blood, we receive the Saviour who is man and is
God.

2 -- We receive the Body and Blood of Jesus when the
appearance of bread and wine is changed into His
Body and Blood

3 -— It is not bread that we partake.

4 —- We know it, because Jesus has told us this, "This
is my body, this is my blood."

0 —- Holy Communion makes our souls stronger and holy
and will help to save our souls.

6 -- We should wash our souls clean by making a
thorough confession, before receiving Holy
Communion.
Thus we receive Jesus: Jesus come into my heart, I love you,
come hither. On the day previous and from twelve o’clock

mid-night we must fast by not eating or drinking anything and
thereby we should receive Holy Communion with the deepest
reverence.

MASS--WOSNAPI WAKAN KIN HE

 

During the Holy Mass the bread and wine is changed into
the living body and blood of Jesus and there He offers
Himself up. Hence we should devoutly respect it.

Jesus is always present in Church. Therefore we should
gladly go there to honor Jesus and speak to Him and ask Him
for what we want of Him.

We should love Jesus who is present in the Holy food and
should often receive Him, these is the utmost good and we
receive many graces by Him. REMEMBER THIS!!!

1 -- FAITH: We must firmly believe all that God has
revealed. Because God knows everything and He
cannot deceive.

2 -- HOPE: We must hope for all that God hadst promised
us, bear it in our minds and hope for it. Because
He is the Truth when He promised Jesus to us.

248

3 -- LOVE: We must love God above all things and for
His sake we must love all men alike.

2——The Catholic Church

 

We must know the four reasons of the Saviour’s Church;
Because it is, ONE, UNIVERSAL, HOLY, 15 came and passed down
from the days 9: our Apostles.

Some of the so-called churches have not yet reached the
age of 400 years, they are not steady, they are not
universal, they are not holy; those churches cannot bring us
to Heaven; hence we should not follow them. If we follow the
Holy Catholic Church rightfully we will reach and enter into
the Home of God. Therefore let us strongly pledge ourselves
to follow this and do it.

 

 

3--The Meaning of Purgatory

 

 

Those who die with smaller sins, go to another place
where his soul will be washed until it is white, and to those
we could help them out by our prayers.

4--Communion 9: Saints

 

Those who are not in Heaven, and those who are now in
Purgatory suffering and those who are on earth belonging to
the Church, are friends and they could help one another.
This is all I wish to say.

AMEN.

APPENDIX E

APPENDIX E

The following pages of this Appendix contain excerpts of

 

letters which appeared in the now-defunct missionary
publication entitled ”Sinasapa Wocekiye Taeyanpaha." These
excerpts are translations of correspondence submitted by

Black Elk in Lakota.

March 15, 1907

Since the last Catholic Sioux Congress, and at the present
time, I have visited the Rosebud Reservation. The people
there told me that they want churches built on their own
districts. I was pleased to hear these people are interested
in God. As I was present there, they took up a collection
for me, and these people donated to me . . ./names listed
along with donations given/

I thank these people for doing a great deed for me. I know
all these came from God. I spoke mainly on Jesus —- when he
was on earth, the teachings and his sufferings. I, myself,

do a lot of these things. I suffer, and I try to teach my
people the things that I wanted them to learn, but it’s never
done.

In my sufferings, my eyes are failing, and also my health is
failing. So I will tell you that all of you (and myself,
that is, everybody, or we) are like sheep among the wolves
ready to be eaten up. And you know when one sheep is
surrounded with wolves, it has no place to go. That’s how we
are. We are ready to be eaten up.

So my friends and relatives, we should stand together and do
what is right, and be patient. That way God has something
good for us all the time.

These people want to accept God, and they ask me how to get a
catechist in these communities. So I told them that the
districts of our own reservation have catechists . . . and
these people pray on Sundays when the priest is not around

I will encourage you people that you donate at least a penny
to these catechists, so that they can continue on their work
in the name of God. While we’re still living on earth, we

249

250

should be thankful to God for putting us here on this earth.
And God has promised us a place when we die, and I’m pretty
sure he’ll never forget us.

Sincerely,

Nick Black Elk

April 27, 1907

My friends and relatives: May the Holy Spirit be with you
all and watch over you. Always look towards Heaven and
prepare yourselves. God has promised the Kingdom of Heaven

for us. When we die, if we have faith in God, the place that
we go is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Remember your commandments, and when you receive your
sacraments, believe in them. God is our Father. Believe in
Him. We will join Him someday. Remember, God has always

loved us; not me, because I am old, but all of you younger
people. He died for us.

God did not come to the rich, but he came to the poor people.
Not only Indians, but all of the poor people. When you feel
bad, if you know how to say a Rosary, say your Rosary. And
the prayer book that we have given you, use that because all
the prayers are in there. And when you pray, always remember
your priests, and your catechists —— because we need prayers
very much.

Listen to what your folks are telling you. That way, you
will gain wisdom from these other people —- not me, because
I’m a catechist and I should pray for you. And if you pray

for me, I will get stronger.

On April 16th, George Charging has died. He could have been

a very useful man: A young man at his age. And he was a
very nice looking man -- big and tall -- and if he’d lived,
he would have been very useful as our sergeant—at—arms. And

I really felt bad because his mother really loved him.

So, I will now close my letter here, and I will pray for all
you people. Remember what I have told you because this is the
only way that God is going to love you -- if you ask Him, if
you pray to Him, He will give you things that you want

Nick Black Elk

251

October 20, 1907

...Last May, Edward White Crow lost his wife. And at that wake I said
these words: My friends and relatives and St. Joseph's and St. Mary's
Society present. What I want to tell the mourners is this. Everyone

of us has to die some day, and we are not to live for a long time because
God has sent us on this earth for a short time. But what I want to tell
you is: have faith in God and remember to go to church every Sunday
because this is where you can gain wisdom. And when you prey to God, all
your sorrows and whatever that comes your way will disappear, because God
is there to help you.

This woman was very active in the St. Mary’s Society. So now she has
gained the gates of heaven because she has worked very hard for God.
Now what I'm going to sav again is this: that Julia White Crow was a
very kind woman. I saw her work many times, and she tried her best to
do what she was supposed to be doing--sewing, and helping out in the
meetings, cooking--and we are going to miss this woman because God has
called her.

God the Father, and Jesus Christ--I pray to them often that St. Joseph's

and St. Mary's Society will never fade away. Some day this is going to
happen: Because the present generation is beginning to turn. But Kt

us train our younger ones to continue on the work? that we've been doing.

I'm very old now, and my days are numbered. So, my friends and relatives,
what I'd like to say is, at least, God have pity on you during your mourning.

And last July, I went to Indianapolis, Indiana. There I met with the white
people in a meeting, and I eas really glad that I have heard and seen with
my own eyes the things that they are doing. And we should do the same

thing here, but it is very hard for us to do the things that the white

people are doing because we have very few things to work with. But again,

we must depend on God to help us. My friends and relatives I speak to you
from the bottom of my heart. Please try and do the things that we're
supposed to do. Let us not forget the main persom--that is, wakan Tanka,
God. And the priest or the bishop has told us that we are never to be afraid
because God is always with us.

 

Now last September 20th, I went on a trip again. This time to Montana
where they called me and invited me to go there. And it was difficult

for me because/of their language/. But they have organized a St. Joseph
and a St. Mary Society, and I was really glad that these people, too,
were interested in the organization. And I spoke at the meeting and
congratulated them because they, too, have interest in the great family,
the Holy Family.

So I will now close that you should all pray, and always remember to pray
for each other. I am,
Nick Black Elk

*Nick was barely over 40 years of age at this time which suggests, perhaps,
that invocation of a theme as "elder Spokesman" (as repeated 25 years later
with Niehardt) was an ora'torical device employed for its power of persua-
sion (i.e., age associated with wisdom).

252

October 18, 1909

I will tell you something about what I have been writing in

the fiyapaha (Messenger) . . . I’ve been telling you about God

and all His works and how we could all be involved. We.
should all support each other -- in the St. Joseph Society,

or helping others like cutting wood or helping haul water.

The Apostolic Delegate in Washington, D.C., is a very nice

and holy man. His name is Fr. Ketcham. They called a big

meeting and at this meeting, there was a big occasion that

happened. He recognized us as catechists —- helping the

priests and helping our own people.

The children that are coming up as adults should be taught
what is right and what is wrong. If we don’t teach them,
then these children will not learn anything about God, and
also the commandments. So teach your children. And if you
need information, ask me, or ask the Father.

My friends and relatives: You should set aside a date when
you could call me or the Father and have a family to come
together and pray. Then, if you don’t know the prayers, I or
the Father, whoever is around, could tell you or give you
some books or something that you can pray with.

Children must learn that they must first learn to pray.
First they must learn who God is, and who the Holy Spirit is.
All these things should be taught.

When I was given this job I did not want it, but you people
have encouraged me to take on this job. So that’s why I’m
doing this —- for your own good -— so I need your help. When
I come to your house to pray, please have everyone there so I
may be able to teach you something about God.

I will now close here that you remember to donate 25 cents.
That will help us to build a new church and a meeting house
in the near future. In closing, my friends and relatives, I
will remember you in my prayers. Also, pray for me.'

Nick Black Elk

253

January 26, 1908

This year, the midnight Mass was held at Oglala, and I was
invited to come there in the holy church where I prayed with
members of that community. That evening, Fr. Westropp came
and we had a midnight Mass and lots of people received
communion.

The next day, they had a big feast, and Fr. Westropp told me
to talk to the people, and I got up and told the people what
Christmas meant. And when I got through with my talk, they
took up a collection, and I received $1.88 gift. Fr.
Westropp also received a donation of $1.88.

The next day, we were invited to Our Lady of Good Counsel,
known as the No Water Camp. Fr. Westropp and I went there
and he had Mass in the morning. The members there sang
hymns, and after that the members there told me to say a few
words. So I told them: Christmas is a big thing. It’s not
only the presents, but Christ was born on this day.

Fr. Westropp baptized Julie Holybird, age 15, Mary Little
Skunk, age 18, and Alice Red Hedge, age four.

The next day, during Mass on December 24th, I went back to
St. Agnes Church for midnight Mass. The members here made a
crib, and accepted the birth of Christ. A total of 130
people received communion at Manderson. The next day, they
had a big meal and spent $40.04 for it. And they helped me
out with 50 cents.

The next stop with Fr. Westropp was St. Peter’s, north of
Manderson. When we arrived there, the people were waiting
for us. And after the Mass, we had another big feast. And
I, and Fr. Westropp, went on into Wolf Creek. And there, Fr.
Westropp had another Mass and there were a total number of
people there of 40 adults. And there again I was invited to
talk to the people, so I told them that same thing (that
Christmas is a big thing, not only presents, but the birth of
Christ). And after we left there, our next stop was St.
Paul’s Church in Porcupine. There during mass Fr. Westropp
married Louis Mousseau and Alice Iron Cloud.

Our next stop was back in Manderson, St. Agnes Church. And
they had a big New Year’s pow-wow, and we had Mass that next
morning. At this time, Fr. Westropp baptized Frank Kicking
Bear, age 20 . . . and Fr. Westropp told the young people
there that he came to the Indian people to help them in any
way he could, especially visiting the sick.

I was really glad that the people of our community really
honored Christ’s birth. And Fr. Westropp told us that they
were going to build a bigger church and enlarge our meeting

254

house. The people were really glad that Fr. Wetsropp brought
this message to us. They are going to build an addition to
our meeting house so more people can come into our meeting
houses. I pray to St. Emma for help. I pray to her that
more money will be donated to us to complete our church and
our meeting house . .

Nick Black Elk

 

255
May 31, 1908

I will be going on a journey to Wyoming, the land of the

Arapahoes. We are bringing good news to these people —- I
and Joe Red-Willow. They have selected us to go to the
Arapahoes. We are invited by the majority of people, and we

had a really big meeting with the Arapahoes and what they
want to know about is the St. Joseph and the St. Mary’s
Societies. So we did the best we can. We told the Arapaho
people that we, too, are very poor, and that there is no
difference between them and us because we are both Indians.
And they asked me to say a few words to the members there, so
I told them about the St. Joseph and the St. Mary’s
organization. First, how to conduct a meeting. And then I
told them about the order of the meeting: That you’ve got to
have a president, a vice president, secretary, treasurer, a
critic, and a doorkeeper. And then they were so enthused
that they are going to start their own St. Joseph and St.
Mary Society there. And then they asked me how they should

pray, so this is what I said to them. When you say the Our
Father, remember that there is one Father and one Son. This
is what you’ve got to believe. And after my talk, they were

so interested so they want us to go back to the land of the
Arapahoes again, in the near future.

What they want to know is how to pray. So, I asked Fr.
Westropp to send our prayer-books so they can translate in
their own language. Then they will have a prayer-book.

While I was talking, I was talking in my own native language
and Mr. Red Willow was translating my talk because I do not
talk English well. I know a few words and that is it.

The next thing that I will be talking about is how to elect
officers. And I told them that you select a person that is

worthy -- that has knowledge of being a leader, and that’s
the person that you select. And the Vice President is the
same way, in case the President is not there, then the Vice
will be there to take over. And the next portion is the
Secretary. The Secretary is to keep the minutes. And I told
them that whatever they say are the main points, that’s what
the secretary should write down, and make it a good minutes.

And a Treasurer is responsible for all of the money that’s
been collected so as to keep an account and report this at
each meeting. A critic is a person that if a person gets out
of line, he should correct them and still accept it. And a
doorkeeper is to shake his hand, then he will close the door
and charge a fee for opening the door again. This is the
organization of the St. Joseph and St. Mary Society. They
had a big election of officers while we were there. Andrew
Jackson, President; Alfonso Goes In Lodge, Vice President;
Mr. Big Head is Treasurer; Black Hole is Secretary, Alfonso
Moss, Catechist.

256

The next Catholic Congress is in Rosebud. These officials
are planning to come there, and to get more ideas while the
meeting is going on. And there’s many people who are
suffering. The superior told me to help these people and I
went to every lodge, to help them. Fr. Westropp came by and
talked to me about going back to the Arapaho. And he said he
has received a new donation to build a church and a meeting
house and I was really glad that they are beginning to take
hold of their own and I hope in the near future that they
start organizing and do the things that we are doing over

here. So Fr. Westropp has told me that we are going to
install some more Catechists in our area, the Pine Ridge
Reservation. The place where they are going to install these
new Catechists is at St. Paul’s in Porcupine District. So

now, I will close my talk and wish you the best, and I will
shake your hand from the bottom of my heart and I remain as
your friend.

Nick Black Elk

257
July 15, 1909

I have seen a number of different people — the ordinary
people living on this earth - the Arapaho, the Shoshone, the
Omaha, the tribe living in California and Florida, the
Rosebud, the Cheyenne River .Sioux tribe, the Standing Rock,
and our own, the Oglalas. The White men living in all these
places -- I have said prayers for their tribe. I’m really
moved that I was able to travel to those places and meet
people that are very friendly. What I’m going to tell you
now is that at the upcoming Catholic Sioux Congress, the
people will be coming and telling you what a great job you
have done. In all these, good things come from God because
of your faith. The United States -- All the people should
have faith in God. We all suffer in this land. But let me
tell you, God has a special place for us when our time has
come.

All of us belong to the Church that you and I are Baptized

into. Let us remember that we only can gain what we ask of
God. The priest has the wisdom to stand before you and
inform you what God can do for you. The Son of God came to

this earth for us and shed his blood for us and we shouldn’t
waste his blood, because he created us.

We must all sweat and tire for our own good -- by working for
ourselves and making a living. If we don’t sweat and tire,
then we cannot live. When God came on this earth, He sweat

and He got tired, and he brought good news also.

Last March 17, Jonnie Black Elk, four years old, died
quietly. I have lost a good boy. May 18, Sam Big Road and
his wife were baptized and were married in the Church. This

is really good.

The last thing I’m going to say is that I have tried my best
to do what God tells me to do. All of you are my friends and
my relatives. Please pray for me, and I shake your hand from
the bottom of my heart.

Nick Black Elk

258

My friends and relatives and members of the Catholic
community at large. When you are to have a meeting remember
to pray first. That way you will gain wisdom from God, and
God will help you in whatever your needs are. Remember that.

Although we are poor, we can count on God’s blessing.

They are going to build a new church. The one building we
have will become a meeting house, and Fr. Lindebner told me
that somebody donated a lot of money, so they are going to
start building St. Agnes Church. And what we should do is
start discussing about the future.

Throughout the reservation all Catholic members discuss what
should be done for their own district societies. I have
realized that everyone has a very deep faith in God. This I
found out. When I was visiting a neighbor of mine, all the
other people didn’t bother to talk with me. But this one
girl wanted to know about God, so I sat down with her and we
prayed the rosary -- one bead at a time. And in a very short
while, she was able to say the rosary.

Remember that I am just a common man like you. But I was
installed as a Catechist and I have received instructions.
And with those instructions that I have received, this is
what I am doing. I am a Catechist and that job is to pray

with people —- teaching them how to pray -- and this is what
I am doing. so if I should come to your house, don’t be
afraid of me -- because I am one of you.

In the generations to come, we should tell the younger

generation about the St. Joseph and St. Mary Society, we have
learned that this is the organization of the Holy Family.

In the Bible, Jesus told us that "You should love your

neighbor as you love Me." So remember if you get in trouble
with your neighbor, remember that God has said, "Love your
neighbor.” So whatever you have said or if you did some bad

thing to them, go over there and please tell them that you
are sorry.

I will close here. In closing, I will say to you: May the
Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit be with you all.
And I remain,

Nick Black Elk

APPENDIX F

 

 

APPEND Ix Ff

Photnstatic reproduction of
the ”Tho Roads" map, reduced
in size for inclusion here.
Few originals exist, one of
which can be found in the
Harquette University Archives,

and one in the possession of
the author.

\

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-
.-

 

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270

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PHOTOGRAPHS

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

PHOTOGRAPHS

Lucy Black Elk, age 6.

Lucy and her father, 1912.

Lucy with friend, 1922.

Lucy in pow-wow apparel, c. 1925.

Black Elk, wife and mother in wagon.

Black Elk, wife Anna, and Lucy, c. 1925.

Lucy wearing pow-wow apparel.

Lucy, 1974.

Lucy, 197R.

Daughter Regina and grandchildren of Lucy.

Leo, three months before he died.

Nick Black Elk Jr. and family.

Black Elk, 1945.

Identifiable -- includes persons mentioned in text.
Congress, Black Elk in top row, c. 1915.

Black Elk, Bishop and catechists at Holy Rosary.

Black Elk (sixth from left) is the only catechist
wearing moccassins.

A photo post-card showing Black Elk giving
instructions.

Congress 1915. Black Elk in bottom row.
This and other photos are much clearer than the xerox

shows.

Black Elk preaching in center of gathering at No Water
1925-30

Black Elk using the "Two Roads Map" for instruction.

Nicholas Black Elk, catechist at Manderson, c. 1925

271

23.

28.

29.

30.

32.

33.

34.

39.

40.

41.

42.

43.

44.

272

(PHOTOGRAPHS CONTINUED)

Father’s cross is the only one shining -- in the
photo it shines brightly.

Black Elk teaching a little girl how to say the
rosary, 1935. Modelled after photo taken years
earlier with Lucy.

Black Elk with Scabby Face family, 1945.

Black Elk, c. 1945.

Ben and Black Elk, c. 1948.

Black Elk (kneeling) with Scabby Face family he
instructed, c. 1940.

Photo of Neihardt and Black Elk held by Lucy.

Neihardt photo of Black Elk on Harney Peak held by
Lucy.

Autographed conv of Black Elk Sneaks, Jesuit Library, Holv Rosary Mission.

 

Black Elk with Ben’s Family, 1955

Ben Black Elk publicity photo at St. Agnes Church, Manderson, S.D..
Ben Black Elk, 1212:.

St. Agnes Chapel, Handerson.

Black Elk, family, c. 1913.

St. Agnes meeting hall dedicated to founder Black Elk.

Commemorative sign on meeting hall (torn off by unknown
person summer of ’76).

St. Agnes as seen from Black Elk’s grave.

Grave of Black Elk.

Pete addressing 1974 Catholic Sioux Congress.
Paul Catches, Pete’s father, c. 1920.

Modern day medicine man, Pete Catches, conducting
prayer with pipe ceremony to begin 1974 Catholic

Sioux Congress.

Catechists at Handerson.

273
(PHOTOGRAPHS CONTINUED)

45. John Lone Goose and Fr. Sialm, 1930

46. John Lone Goose, c. 1925, with first communicants.
47. John Lone Goose, 1974.

48. Little Warrior, 0. 1945.

49. Ben Marrowbone.

Many of the photographs listed here are courtesy of the Buechel Memorial
Lakota Museum, St. Francis, South Dakota.

274

 

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