Post by tkavanagh on Sept 27, 2010 17:02:15 GMT -5
I just realized that I didn't post this when I joined the group last fall. So here it is:
Dr. Tom's bio
I grew up in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. with an interest in American Indians fueled by the Boy Scouts’ Odor of the Error [sic]. As a senior in high school, I knew I was going to the University of New Mexico as an anthro major, but at that time, I had little idea what anthro was. That summer I volunteered at the Smithsonian, the start of a long and involved relationship with that Institution.
During the school years at UNM, I became involved with the local pow-wow circuit; there was a monthly pow-wow in Albuquerque, as well as pow-wows at the Santa Fe Indian School and in Taos. I [tried to sing ] with a northern drum [Leroy Little Bear (Blood), Paul [Pawel] Raczka (Pole), and Saul Birdshead (N. Arapaho)] which practiced at the Kiva Club at UNM.
I also had a weekly folk music radio show on KUNM, the campus radio station (I had been a folkie since the Great Folk Scare of the early 1960s). One week, I decided to combine those two interests, and asked Rascka if he could help me with a show on Indian music. He called his friend, Tony Isaacs, of Indian House Records in Taos, and we did a two-hour live show. I now regret that we did not record it. But the response was so great that it was expanded into a weekly show, the Singing Wire, first hosted by Raczka, then by Conroy Chino from Acoma Pueblo, now a respected reporter on Albq. TV.
During the summers, I returned to Washington where I got a series of internships and fellowships at the Smithsonian, studying the Plains Indian collections, first doing a Levi-Straussian project on mythology, then a study of the Plains leggings in the NMNH collections.
Being an old folkie, I also became associated with the then new Festival of American Folklife, first with the Pennsylvania Folklife project (1969), then with their new Native Americans/Indian Awareness Program.
In 1970, we focused on the Indians of Oklahoma, and I first met Comanches. I also met Floyd (Just Plain) Westerman; he was hauled off our stage by an irate Comanche lady who was upset about his protest songs. Several years later at the National Folk Festival-- a different thing altogether--he and I spent an afternoon singing country-western songs on a hillside.
In 1971, after graduation, I returned to the Smithsonian where I worked for 6 years at the Native Americans Program. We did a number of 'cultural' programs, most notably the annual Festival of American Folklife. At each year's festival, a different 'culture area' was featured, and we did basic field work in each, primarily looking for a local coordinator, but also seeking out craftspeople, etc. Thus I did fieldwork among the Iroquois; Blood, Assiniboine, Rocky Boy's Cree, Gros Ventre; Lower Brule, Miniconjou, Brule, Oglala; San Juan and Zuni, Hopi, White Mountain Apache, Navajo, Pima, and Papago..
[On that visit to the Bloods in Alberta, I attended a pipe ceremony; the leader, saying he needed a proper name for me, gave me, if I transcribe it correctly, /Pita Tsiksinam/ ‘White Eagle.’]
Meanwhile in Washington, via the director of our program, who was Cherokee by birth and Comanche by marriage and participation, I became attached to the small local Comanche community. I also took time to visit the Comanches in Oklahoma as much as possible; I joined the Tuepukenuu Little Ponies Society in 1972.
We also did some other more directly Indian related programs. In 1972 we were contracted by the Econ. Dev. Admin. of the Commerce Department to prepare a study of cultural programs on reservations. As a result of that, we produced a $2M pilot proposal to fund cultural centers/museums (built to proper museum standards, not just store fronts) on selected reservations and to train native personnel to run them. The proposal had preliminary approval from DOC and was on Louis Bruce's (Commissioner of Indian Affairs) desk for his sign-off in November of 1972 when the Trail of Broken Treaties was trapped in the building.
We of course, knew the TBT was coming, and indeed had been working with them on arrangements for pipe ceremonies at Arlington cemetary; the big tipi that was set up on the lawn of the BIA building was ours!
We ended up acting as negotiators between the Feds and TBT; as far as I know, I was the only self-described non-Indian in the building. An FBI agent did come around our house later, having traced the license plate on my mother’s car (a Carmen-Ghia), which I was driving. He wanted to know why I was there, and I showed him the tipi cover (BIA employees had meanwhile cut up our Crow agency poles) in the basement. He left soon after that.
I had a scout meeting to go to that night, and as I went out to the car, I noticed his car in the church parking lot across the street. As I pulled out, he pulled out. I say’s to myself, “OK, if that’s how you want’s to play it, let’s go all over Rockville.” So I spent the next hour or so criss-crossing Rockville, just slow enough that he could keep up. Ultimately, it got too late I had to get to the meeting, so I dropped him.
But our DoC/BIA museum proposal ended up in the mountain of trash in the hallways. I have often wondered whether, if it had been funded, the relationship between museums and tribes, which resulted in the acrimony of NAGPRA, might have been different.
In 1977, because our program had been “RIFed” (‘reduction in force’) I went to George Washington U for a Masters in Anthro; my thesis focused on how the Comanche pow-wow (and Little Ponies role therein) functioned as a means of communicating a specific tribal identity within the larger "Indian" identity of the pan-Indian pow-wow.
In 1980, my former boss at the Smithsonian contacted me about whether I would be interested in going to the Hopi Reservation in Arizona to coordinate their commemoration of the Tricentennial of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, the only successful Indian 'uprising'. “Of course,” I said. While there, we “re-enacted” the run from Taos to all of the villages, carrying knotted buckskin cords to signify when the revolt would begin (I knotted the cords). Turned out, I was the only one at Hopi who knew the back roads from Jemez to Hopi (which I had travelled many times during my years at UNM) .
But then, although this had started as a secular venue, it soon became a sacred venue. At Hopi human running is a metaphor for running water, and anything connected to water is sacred. So, as the journey continued, every night, the Hopi runners became more and more secluded in prayer sessions, and I, as a non-initiated, non-Indian, was more and more excluded, even though I was their guide.
During that time, I also served as de facto director of the Hopi Cultural Center Musuem, mostly trying to explain to visiting tourists that the Hopis are not the spiritual masters some New-Agers wanted them to be – Hopis were, on the advice of my board, orthodox pagans – as well as the political realities of the Hopi-Navajo land dispute.
I lived in Kykotsmovi (New Oriabi) in a house owned by Oswald White Bear Fredericks (of The Book of the Hopi fame[infamy]). The Katsinam often walked across my roof while passing from one kiva to another, and on winter nights we would gather outside the kivas to listen to them practice. The plaza was just down the street and they would pass by my front door going to and from the dances.
I seldom saw White Bear during my stay (he spent most of his time in Sedona playing golf) nor did I see any of the other so-called "Traditionalists" from Third Mesa. I did however, spend a lot of time with the traditional (note lower-case t) elders from Second Mesa, and a few from Oraibi and Hotevilla (they were my Board of Directors).
In 1982, I went back to U New Mexico for a PhD in Anthro, focusing on the Comanche political history. I had read Alfonso Ortiz’s _Tewa World_ in which he noted that when a Tewa youth needed a spiritual advisor, he approached the elder with a gift of tobacco, saying “Does my uncle have a corner?”; the elder could not decline. So, when I needed a dissertation advisor, even though Alfonso had just received a MacArthur “genius” grant and had a week before said that he would not take any more grad students, I caught him at his office with a pack of cigarettes concealed in my hand, and shaking his, asked, “Does my uncle have a corner?” He was somewhat non-plussed, but had to agree. I think I was his last grad student.
I had intended to do my PhD dissertation on pow-wow; I did a short paper condensing my MA thesis for Haliksa’i, the UNM Anthro Society journal. But on a trip back to Oklahoma, my friend Joe Attocknie said it would more important to Comanches to focus on how come they keep getting into political messes (They had just been thru a major crisis). So I switched that focus. The result was my dissertation and book, _Comanche Political History_ (the latter reissued as _The Comanches: A History_; it’s the same text with a few minor corrections.)
In '86, I went back to the Smithsonian, working at various contract jobs. I did a catalog of all of the James Mooney photographs held by the National Anthropological Archives, leading to the paper 'Visualizing the Ghost Dance'. I also did a catalog all of the William Soule photographs I could find, leading to the paper 'Comanche Domestic Architecture'.
Along the way, I discovered the unpublished field notes of Gustav Carlson, E.A. Hoebel, Waldo Wedel, and Robert Lowie. Collating and editing those notes led to Comanche Ethnography.
I also taught Anthro, Political Anthro, and Native America at GW and Georgetown. In 1992, the job at Bloomington came open and I moved to wonderful Indiana. Unfortunately, after 10 years, it didn't work out. I am still associated with IU through the American Indian Studies Research Institute. In 2006, I moved to Seton Hall in New Jersey to manage their collections; I have also taught part time Intro Cultural; Intro Physical; Nat Am; and Political Anthro. Again, unfortunately, it was a five year term-limited contract, which ended in September. So I am pounding the want-ads again.
I am continuing my Comanche connections, consulting with them on NAGPRA and other issues;
last year we did a consultation with the National Park Service on Comanche Traditional Uses of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.
As for how I got to this list?. I think it was a link from the LBH list
tk
Dr. Tom's bio
I grew up in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. with an interest in American Indians fueled by the Boy Scouts’ Odor of the Error [sic]. As a senior in high school, I knew I was going to the University of New Mexico as an anthro major, but at that time, I had little idea what anthro was. That summer I volunteered at the Smithsonian, the start of a long and involved relationship with that Institution.
During the school years at UNM, I became involved with the local pow-wow circuit; there was a monthly pow-wow in Albuquerque, as well as pow-wows at the Santa Fe Indian School and in Taos. I [tried to sing ] with a northern drum [Leroy Little Bear (Blood), Paul [Pawel] Raczka (Pole), and Saul Birdshead (N. Arapaho)] which practiced at the Kiva Club at UNM.
I also had a weekly folk music radio show on KUNM, the campus radio station (I had been a folkie since the Great Folk Scare of the early 1960s). One week, I decided to combine those two interests, and asked Rascka if he could help me with a show on Indian music. He called his friend, Tony Isaacs, of Indian House Records in Taos, and we did a two-hour live show. I now regret that we did not record it. But the response was so great that it was expanded into a weekly show, the Singing Wire, first hosted by Raczka, then by Conroy Chino from Acoma Pueblo, now a respected reporter on Albq. TV.
During the summers, I returned to Washington where I got a series of internships and fellowships at the Smithsonian, studying the Plains Indian collections, first doing a Levi-Straussian project on mythology, then a study of the Plains leggings in the NMNH collections.
Being an old folkie, I also became associated with the then new Festival of American Folklife, first with the Pennsylvania Folklife project (1969), then with their new Native Americans/Indian Awareness Program.
In 1970, we focused on the Indians of Oklahoma, and I first met Comanches. I also met Floyd (Just Plain) Westerman; he was hauled off our stage by an irate Comanche lady who was upset about his protest songs. Several years later at the National Folk Festival-- a different thing altogether--he and I spent an afternoon singing country-western songs on a hillside.
In 1971, after graduation, I returned to the Smithsonian where I worked for 6 years at the Native Americans Program. We did a number of 'cultural' programs, most notably the annual Festival of American Folklife. At each year's festival, a different 'culture area' was featured, and we did basic field work in each, primarily looking for a local coordinator, but also seeking out craftspeople, etc. Thus I did fieldwork among the Iroquois; Blood, Assiniboine, Rocky Boy's Cree, Gros Ventre; Lower Brule, Miniconjou, Brule, Oglala; San Juan and Zuni, Hopi, White Mountain Apache, Navajo, Pima, and Papago..
[On that visit to the Bloods in Alberta, I attended a pipe ceremony; the leader, saying he needed a proper name for me, gave me, if I transcribe it correctly, /Pita Tsiksinam/ ‘White Eagle.’]
Meanwhile in Washington, via the director of our program, who was Cherokee by birth and Comanche by marriage and participation, I became attached to the small local Comanche community. I also took time to visit the Comanches in Oklahoma as much as possible; I joined the Tuepukenuu Little Ponies Society in 1972.
We also did some other more directly Indian related programs. In 1972 we were contracted by the Econ. Dev. Admin. of the Commerce Department to prepare a study of cultural programs on reservations. As a result of that, we produced a $2M pilot proposal to fund cultural centers/museums (built to proper museum standards, not just store fronts) on selected reservations and to train native personnel to run them. The proposal had preliminary approval from DOC and was on Louis Bruce's (Commissioner of Indian Affairs) desk for his sign-off in November of 1972 when the Trail of Broken Treaties was trapped in the building.
We of course, knew the TBT was coming, and indeed had been working with them on arrangements for pipe ceremonies at Arlington cemetary; the big tipi that was set up on the lawn of the BIA building was ours!
We ended up acting as negotiators between the Feds and TBT; as far as I know, I was the only self-described non-Indian in the building. An FBI agent did come around our house later, having traced the license plate on my mother’s car (a Carmen-Ghia), which I was driving. He wanted to know why I was there, and I showed him the tipi cover (BIA employees had meanwhile cut up our Crow agency poles) in the basement. He left soon after that.
I had a scout meeting to go to that night, and as I went out to the car, I noticed his car in the church parking lot across the street. As I pulled out, he pulled out. I say’s to myself, “OK, if that’s how you want’s to play it, let’s go all over Rockville.” So I spent the next hour or so criss-crossing Rockville, just slow enough that he could keep up. Ultimately, it got too late I had to get to the meeting, so I dropped him.
But our DoC/BIA museum proposal ended up in the mountain of trash in the hallways. I have often wondered whether, if it had been funded, the relationship between museums and tribes, which resulted in the acrimony of NAGPRA, might have been different.
In 1977, because our program had been “RIFed” (‘reduction in force’) I went to George Washington U for a Masters in Anthro; my thesis focused on how the Comanche pow-wow (and Little Ponies role therein) functioned as a means of communicating a specific tribal identity within the larger "Indian" identity of the pan-Indian pow-wow.
In 1980, my former boss at the Smithsonian contacted me about whether I would be interested in going to the Hopi Reservation in Arizona to coordinate their commemoration of the Tricentennial of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, the only successful Indian 'uprising'. “Of course,” I said. While there, we “re-enacted” the run from Taos to all of the villages, carrying knotted buckskin cords to signify when the revolt would begin (I knotted the cords). Turned out, I was the only one at Hopi who knew the back roads from Jemez to Hopi (which I had travelled many times during my years at UNM) .
But then, although this had started as a secular venue, it soon became a sacred venue. At Hopi human running is a metaphor for running water, and anything connected to water is sacred. So, as the journey continued, every night, the Hopi runners became more and more secluded in prayer sessions, and I, as a non-initiated, non-Indian, was more and more excluded, even though I was their guide.
During that time, I also served as de facto director of the Hopi Cultural Center Musuem, mostly trying to explain to visiting tourists that the Hopis are not the spiritual masters some New-Agers wanted them to be – Hopis were, on the advice of my board, orthodox pagans – as well as the political realities of the Hopi-Navajo land dispute.
I lived in Kykotsmovi (New Oriabi) in a house owned by Oswald White Bear Fredericks (of The Book of the Hopi fame[infamy]). The Katsinam often walked across my roof while passing from one kiva to another, and on winter nights we would gather outside the kivas to listen to them practice. The plaza was just down the street and they would pass by my front door going to and from the dances.
I seldom saw White Bear during my stay (he spent most of his time in Sedona playing golf) nor did I see any of the other so-called "Traditionalists" from Third Mesa. I did however, spend a lot of time with the traditional (note lower-case t) elders from Second Mesa, and a few from Oraibi and Hotevilla (they were my Board of Directors).
In 1982, I went back to U New Mexico for a PhD in Anthro, focusing on the Comanche political history. I had read Alfonso Ortiz’s _Tewa World_ in which he noted that when a Tewa youth needed a spiritual advisor, he approached the elder with a gift of tobacco, saying “Does my uncle have a corner?”; the elder could not decline. So, when I needed a dissertation advisor, even though Alfonso had just received a MacArthur “genius” grant and had a week before said that he would not take any more grad students, I caught him at his office with a pack of cigarettes concealed in my hand, and shaking his, asked, “Does my uncle have a corner?” He was somewhat non-plussed, but had to agree. I think I was his last grad student.
I had intended to do my PhD dissertation on pow-wow; I did a short paper condensing my MA thesis for Haliksa’i, the UNM Anthro Society journal. But on a trip back to Oklahoma, my friend Joe Attocknie said it would more important to Comanches to focus on how come they keep getting into political messes (They had just been thru a major crisis). So I switched that focus. The result was my dissertation and book, _Comanche Political History_ (the latter reissued as _The Comanches: A History_; it’s the same text with a few minor corrections.)
In '86, I went back to the Smithsonian, working at various contract jobs. I did a catalog of all of the James Mooney photographs held by the National Anthropological Archives, leading to the paper 'Visualizing the Ghost Dance'. I also did a catalog all of the William Soule photographs I could find, leading to the paper 'Comanche Domestic Architecture'.
Along the way, I discovered the unpublished field notes of Gustav Carlson, E.A. Hoebel, Waldo Wedel, and Robert Lowie. Collating and editing those notes led to Comanche Ethnography.
I also taught Anthro, Political Anthro, and Native America at GW and Georgetown. In 1992, the job at Bloomington came open and I moved to wonderful Indiana. Unfortunately, after 10 years, it didn't work out. I am still associated with IU through the American Indian Studies Research Institute. In 2006, I moved to Seton Hall in New Jersey to manage their collections; I have also taught part time Intro Cultural; Intro Physical; Nat Am; and Political Anthro. Again, unfortunately, it was a five year term-limited contract, which ended in September. So I am pounding the want-ads again.
I am continuing my Comanche connections, consulting with them on NAGPRA and other issues;
last year we did a consultation with the National Park Service on Comanche Traditional Uses of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.
As for how I got to this list?. I think it was a link from the LBH list
tk