"War Dance of Old": July 18, 1895

[David Robertson]

Qhata mEsayka?

Khapa uk Spokane _Spokesman-Review_ c'Em pipa, page 6, na tl'ap ukuk...

[warning:  contains racist language and ideas!]

WAR DANCE OF OLD

HOW THE GRAND RONDE INDIANS ENTERTAINED AN OREGON AUDIENCE.

A WILD, WEIRD SCENE

A DANCE THAT NETTED THE THIRTY OR MORE PERFORMERS BUT $2.15 -- MCKAY'S
SPEECHES

Last Friday night the Grand Ronde Indians gave a war dance at Bible's hall
in Sheridan [Oregon], says the Portland Sun.  John Smith, aged about 75
years, a Rogue river by birth, and one of the most well-to-do Indians on
the reservation, came out upon the street rigged up in the height of
barbaric splendor, with feathers galore, beads and buckskin breeches,
carrying a panther skin quiver filled with arrows.

"Come in and see the big war dance," he shouted.  Then he disappeared on
the inside.

A solitary hanging lamp shed its struggling beams athwart the smoky
rafters and unfinished interior of the hall, giving the room a ghostly
appearance.  On planks which were still wet from contact with the elements
sat the audience, which was not large, but patient.

*Presently Peter McKay, a full-blood Indian, aged about 80 years, a
*veteran of the Mexican war, who draws a pension for his services, came
*forward and spoke in "jargon."  Jim Pearce (known on the agency as
*"Whisky Jim") interpreted the speech to the audience by sentences:

*"I am an old man.  I can not remember much now.  I was in the Mexican
*war.  We had hard fighting.  We will show you how we used to dance the
*Indian war dance 100 years ago.  Watch close and you will see how the
*wild Indians used to dance.  We will dance some other dance first."

Peter was dressed in a white shirt and trousers of the same color; his
headdress was filled with colored eagle feathers, and in his right hand he
held a huge wooden sword.

The Indians lined up on the side of the hall opposite the spectators in
two rows, the squaws, gaudily arrayed in fancy colors, in front, the bucks
in the rear.  Presently an obese squaw, with her raven hair plentifully
bedecked with feathers, stepped out of the front rank and began to gallop
sidewise up and down the lines, the whole grand opera chanting a
monotonous song, all in perfect time.  Presently another female dancer
came out and pranced up and down the lines, each performer taking care not
to collide with the other.  This sort of business continued usually for
about five minutes, the dancers going through varying changes, the
remainder of the company keeping time with one foot on the floor, like a
juba-patter for a plantation darkey dancer.  The dance invariably wound up
with a chorus of laughter, in which all joined with much zest.

Then an old warrior came out in front, and the singing became louder, the
shrill tones of the squaws blending with the hoarse bass of the bucks.
Twice the old warrior trotted up and down the lines, with his wooden sword
drawn.  Then another warrior, with a boy, came out, fitted an arrow and
shied along the line as if looking for something or somebody to shoot at.
He passed the buck with the sword several times, but neither appeared to
think the other the right sort of game.  Finally he of the bow and arrows
appeared to have discovered his most implacable enemy, and he danced as
though he was walking on the air, exhibiting all the stealth of a cat
about to pounce upon an unsuspecting mouse.  Suddenly several shrill
warwhoops were given by the chorus bucks and squaws, and the warrior let
fly the arrow at an unoccupied corner of the hall.  Then arose a great
shout of laughter.

*While the squaws were fanning themselves, and the bucks were engaged in
*mopping the gathered perspiration with their red cotton handkerchiefs,
*Peter McKay again delivered a short oration which was glibly interpreted
*by the ever-ready linguist "Whisky Jim."  Strung together it was thus:
*"We will give you the great 'Rogue river' war dance as they used to dance
*it from 100 to 200 years ago.  Our fathers used to dance it when they
*were wild, but we are all tame now.  If you will watch close you will see
*how it is done."

There was a pause after this preliminary explanation, when suddenly one of
the Indians jumped out of the front rank and started to dance in a circle.
One by one the bucks all followed until the circle was completed.  Then
the squaws, imitating the same tactics, followed around the outside of the
circle.  Then began the wildest exhibition yet seen.  The warwhoops of the
bucks was deafening.  The faces of the men grew hideous with distortion;
they hopped, skipped and jumped, in and out, hither and thither; they
howled and hooted, leaped and cavorted, until, tired with the exertion,
they gave a deafening yell and quit.  The manager forgot to thank the
audience for their "kind attention," etc., and the entertainment came to
an informal close.  After paying $2.50 worth of city license and $2 for
the use of the hall, the manager had $2.15 to divide among the 30 or more
performers.

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