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For information on the Harriman Retraced Expedition e-mail: harriman2001@science.smith.edu |
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Letter from Jai, Seattle,
Washington Hello! My name is Jai and I am
a member of the Saanya Kwaan Clan (GrizzlyBear Clan from the
upper Unuk River). I wanted to thank you for the efforts you
are going through to repatriate Tlingit artifacts and
alsofor your planned filming of the ceremony. I have a few
traditional objects including a halibut hook, purse and vest
which I inherited from my mother. I am really looking
forward to seeing the objects you are returning. I currently
live in Seattle and hope to attend the ceremony with my son.
My Aunt, Uncle and several cousins currently live in Saxman,
Alaska, near Cape Fox and Ketchikan. Hope to see you all
theret his July! And thank you again!
Jai Headline in The Daily
News, Prince Rupert, British Columbia, 19 July 2001:
Raiders Return Loot! Cape Fox Village to
Ketchikan, Alaska At first light we anchored off
Old Cape Fox Village beach on Kirk Point. My immediate
challenge was finding my way through the yet unexplored
Clipper Odyssey, from my cabin to the bridge, to look
over the navigation charts for the day. We were at the
southern end of the 2.3 million-acre Misty Fiords National
Monument, a mere eight miles from the Canadian
boarder. Scanning Kirk Bay with
binoculars, it was apparent why the Saanya Kwaan had
located a village on this beach. The village site is
above a crescent of sand, just off a large, protective cove.
No large boulders or rock faces blocked access to the
gently-sloping beach that stretched 100 yards from the low
tide to the wrack line. Salmon purse seiners working
southeast of the ship testified to the fish abundance in these
waters. On the cape itself, a young spruce forest has
grown over the past 100 years, clearly separating the sand
beach from the now wooded uplands. The young forest had
consumed the old village site that arriving boats would have
easily seen a century ago. By 6:30A.M. we were scanning the
horizon for the stevedore boat that was bringing members of
the Saanya Kwaan, Harriman family, and museum
representatives to the ship. Just as we spotted their boat,
the radio sounded, telling us that they had sighted the
Odyssey. The anticipation of this moment could be
felt amongst all who had gathered on the bridge; time moved
quickly and the stevedore boat was alongside the
ship's pilot door. As the passengers stepped
aboard, Harriman Scholar Rosita Worl, in her Tlingit
ceremonial dress, greeted Saanya Kwaan
representatives Irene Shields and Eleanor Hadden, and Edward
H. Harriman's great-great granddaughter, Kitty
Northrup Friedman with her young son, Ned. The
visitors included delegates from the Burke Museum, the
Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian,
Chicago Field Museum, Harvard's Peabody Museum, and
Phoebe Wood of Smith College's Board of Trustees. By
the end of the day the Peabody, Smithsonian, Field Museum,
Burke, and Cornell University would officially return clan
objects that had left this cove more than a century
ago. Within the hour the group moved
to aft Deck 4 where the first zodiac launched for Saanya
Kwaan homeland and ancestral village. Clan members in
regalia were the first to step on shore, greeting the rest
of the zodiac party as they entered Tlingit land. As the
other boats made their way to the landing, Irene, Eleanor,
and Rosita moved to the upper beach and built a ceremonial
fire. They stood out against the backdrop of the trees,
dressed in red, black, and yellow ceremonial robes, marking
the spot where a very long journey was coming to an
end. The attention of Clipper
Odyssey's party was quickly focused on the drum
and song that began the ceremony. To honor the memories of
Saanya Kwaan ancestors and heritage, a procession
formed and each member of the ship's party put a
small piece of bread into the fire as an offering. Irene and
Eleanor, whose ancestors had lived in Cape Fox Village,
shared with us the meaning of this day and expressed the
importance of this moment. Their voices were filled with
emotion and eyes with tears. On a beach between the sea and
spruce woods, we suddenly found ourselves within an
emotional and spiritual place much larger than any
logistical detail or individual. The ceremony did not
actually end, but became quiet. I felt great relief that our
first effort to reconcile a controversial historical event
with our actions in 2001, a century later, was making sense.
A small group led by Irene and Eleanor, went into the old
village site and the forest that now surrounds it. Visiting
the village site with its moss covered remains and mounds,
in the stillness of the forest, again proved to be a
powerful and emotional connection. Small groups stood talking on
the beach and made their way to the tide line where the
zodiacs waited for the trip back to the ship. Although time
seemed suspended, we had spent about two hours at Cape Fox.
With a long day still ahead, the ship weighed anchor and set
a course, by way of Nichols Pass, for Metlakatla on Annette
Island's west coast. The charts confirmed that since
leaving Cape Fox, we have been sailing within the Tongass
National Forest's lush temperate rain forests that
cover the dozens of islands making-up the Alexander
Archipelago. Our goal for visiting Metlakatla
Village was two-fold. We wanted to understand how this small
coastal village was faring in the modern world, and we
wanted to visit the Father Duncan Museum and see the
tangible impact of Western values on Native culture. Without
this understanding, we could not begin to understand or
appreciate the importance of returning the Saanya
Kwaan's
objects. Father William Duncan's
1887 settlement of "New Metlakatla" received
considerable attention in the 1899 expedition's
report by George Bird Grinnell. In 1891, Father Duncan
successfully petitioned Congress to turn the entire Island
into the Annette Island Indian Reservation, the only
reservation in the State of Alaska. After a century, Father
Duncan's efforts can be seen as a mixed blessing. At
a time when Tlingit and Tsimshian communities were being
devastated by other Western influences, Father Duncan
provided a haven for disenfranchised community members.
While his intentions may have been good, his stern and
restrictive methods to "civilize the Natives"
led to a revolt in 1915 and a reclaiming of some
traditional cultures and rights. As we made our way back to the
ship we struggled with the history that the Father Duncan
Museum represented; we were again traveling through time and
trying to reconcile our contemporary views with the history
and the politics that surround it. The praise the 1899
expedition gave Father Duncan's effort was sincere, a
reflection of the values of the day. Standing in the
very same spot, we looked through our social lens of 2001
and could only be awed by the shift in values and
sensibilities that we brought to this village. I wrestled
with the trap of revised history, wondering how one society
could justify treating another this way. What was the role
of Harriman Retraced in the midst of all this? Some
colleagues worried that we were being used in a broader
Native political agenda. I contrasted this with my earlier
visits with Clan representatives in New York and with Clan
leaders and elders in Ketchikan. The tears, anger, outrage,
hurt and sorrow I witnessed, and the scoldings received,
were real. "Do you understand, Tom, that the Harriman
Expedition took away our history? I can't tell my
grandchildren who we are, the stories are lost?" We
would truly misinterpret our situation if we saw it as
one-dimensional: the tears and broader political agenda were
both real, and very much part of an unfolding historical
period. And we, with our 340' long ship
transporting cherished objects, had sailed into the midst of
it. We
were joined at the dock by Alaska Lieutenant Governor Fran
Ulmer, who sailed with
us from Metlakatla to Ketchikan. Lt. Governor Ulmer, Chair
of the Alaska Historical Commission and an honorary Tlingit,
was Alaska's official representative to the
repatriation and potlatch. The Clipper Odyssey
departed Metlakatla at 2:00 P.M. for Ketchikan. We continued
northwest through Nichols Passage to the Tongass Narrows, a
fourteen-mile passage between Gravina Island on our port,
and Revillagigedo Island to starboard. Lt. Governor
Ulmer provided an overview of the significance of this
repatriation within the context of Alaska's history,
and presided over a panel of museum representatives who
facilitated the return of Saanya Kwaan objects from
their institutions. Rosita Worl, a Tlingit, Professor of
Anthropology, and expedition scholar, spoke of the important
traditions and social protocols in which we were now
involved. The participating institutions
and individuals were Rick West, director, and Bruce
Bernstein, assistant director, of the National Museum of the
American Indian, Smithsonian Institution; Felisia A. Wesson,
General Counsel, Chicago Field Museum; Barbara Issac,
assistant director, and Anne-Marie Victor-Howe, associate
curator, Peabody Museum, Harvard University; Robin Wright,
curator of Native American Art, Burke Museum, University of
Washington. Again, the contrast with 1899 could not have
been more vivid. A century ago, museums were
vigorously gathering Native property on an international
scale and building significant exhibits to display them.
Today, in Tongass Narrows, some of these same institutions
had cleared legal, political, and ethical hurdles to return
the same property to its Tlingit homeland. The appearance of Pennock Island
on our port signaled our approach to Ketchikan harbor and
the hasty conclusion to the panel discussion. From the
bridge we could see a lot of activity on the dock and a very
busy port. In 1991, 15 cruise ships visited Ketchikan.
Today, on average, 480 ships visit each year bringing
300,000 visitors. Quite a change for a location that
originated as a Tongass and Cape Fox Tlingit fishing camp on
the Ketchikan River. It was clear by the concentration of
red and black Tlingit robes, TV cameras and on-lookers that
the berth in the center of the City dock was where we were
to tie-up. It also became apparent that we were now in a
fish bowl, from how the Captain handled his ship, to how we
conducted ourselves in this emotional and powerful
situation. With Rosita Worl at my side as
our "protocol adviser" we approached the dock.
We scanned the crowd for the group of Clan Leaders and
Elders; I called to them, "Haa dei!" a Tlingit
greeting and call to get attention. This traditional signal
worked and the Clan Leaders where able to find us along the
crowded rail of the ship. They responded in kind. Since this
is Tlingit homeland, they asked who we were and why we had
come. I responded that we were the Harriman Expedition
Retraced and that we came in peace and friendship to
return clan property that had been gone for over 100-years.
They nodded, some somber, some enthusiastically, and waved
us to come alongside and tie-up. There was a good deal of
tension in knowing the importance of our meeting, but not
knowing exactly how it all was to unfold; we had no
precedent, no familiar protocol to guide us. The
smiles and waves from well-wishers and friends standing on
the crowded dock were welcomed signs of encouragement. The
quiet of Cape Fox beach seemed a very long way
away. The best way to describe what
followed during the rest of the day and night was the
touching of parallel universes. In many ways the Tlingit
culture is now much Westernized, and the lines between the
two blur. But today the two separations seemed
clearer. We brought our culture on an internationally
registered ship. On the dock were Tlingits from throughout
Southeast Alaska, hosted by the Saanya Kwaan,
determined to respect their own ancestors, heritage, and
cultural traditions. They were also grappling simultaneously
with emotions surrounding the taking of the objects and
100-year absence, and the elation and celebration of their
return. While we sympathized with the Saanya's,
I'm not sure how many of us understood that many
clan members saw us as cultural delegates responsible for
the removal of the objects in 1899. The people who removed
the Saanya's property in 1899 were our
people and we had an obligation to assume responsibility
for their actions. Respect is a fundamental
value within Tlingit culture, and the removal of property
from Cape Fox without permission was a serious display of
disrespect. The fact that it had occurred a century ago was
not relevant. When we created Harriman Retraced, we
created a repository for an obligation in search of a home.
In earlier meetings when I was scolded, E.H. Harriman was
standing right next to me. It was not really important that
Mr. Harriman had passed away ninety years
ago. Suffice to say that our
historic, albeit unscripted, meeting moved through a series
of huddles, consultations, exchanges of messages, and
overarching goodwill. With a few fits and starts, the large
crated house posts from the Burke Museum and totem from
Cornell University were craned off the ship to an awaiting
flatbed truck. The objects from the other institutions had
already made their way to Ketchikan in time for
today's potlatch. Standing next to me through all
this was Kitty Friedman, great-great-granddaughter of Edward
Harriman. Her great-grandfather, Roland, was the youngest
participant of the 1899 expedition, being 2-years old at the
time. Fulfilling this historical role was Ned,
Kitty's 4-month old son. It had not been clear
until about two weeks before we departed whether or not a
member of the Harriman family would join the repatriation;
Kitty's presence today was significant. With Kitty and Ned's
participation, the event could now become one of the
Tlingit's most important ceremonies, a potlatch. In
this case, it was a form of potlatch used for settling
disputes. If a Harriman was not present, the dispute could
not be settled. The Clans' property could be returned
through the healing ceremony, but the 100-year old dispute
revolving around the removal of Clan property without
permission would remain an open wound. Spotting Irene and Eleanor in
the crowd, I flashed on the idea we used to help move our
planning discussions forward: building a bridge to the
future. This notion represented our understanding that
there were long standing grievances, misunderstandings and
powerful feelings, but if we were to make progress they had
to be set aside so we could move on. It was
interesting that these three young women had been sent as
their "clan" representatives, had helped
construct the "bridge to the future," and were
the first to cross it. The unassuming strength and courage
they demonstrated were important ingredients of the
day's success. The loading complete, we left
the ship and joined a procession of cars and trucks, led by
the flatbed, objects, and the dozen young Tlingits sitting
atop. Tourists stopped and stared. State police, their car
lights flashing, blocked the intersections as we made our
way through Ketchikan to Saxman. Saxman has been the
Saanya home since they left Cape Fox in 1893. It is
where the Saanya's clan houses are located,
and it was necessary to pass them to reintroduce the spirits
of the long missing house posts and totem to the spirits of
the clan houses. At one clan house, the home of a clan
elder, we were invited for coffee and cake. On the front
lawn with a small tent. We spoke about the importance of
this day. As the procession continued, cars that happened
upon it joined in line and others dropped out. Horns honked,
people shouted from their cars and bystanders waved and
whistled. This was an honest-to-goodness
happening and regardless of one's point of
view, we were "going with the
flow." If there ever was a time that parallel
universes bumped, this was surely it. The procession ended with our
arrival at the Ketchikan Civic Center and potlatch. By this
point I had lost all track of time, except that it was
getting dark. The large hall was filled with hundreds of
people--- adults, children, babies, teens, elders; standing
sitting, walking, talking, hugging, shaking hands. This was
not just a community event, it was the
community. Laid out in the middle of the hall were
the newly united totems, house posts, and house front.
People gently touched them, some stared, some quietly wiped
away tears, others expressed joy. Children stood tiptoe to
see over the sides of the crates. Into this gathering, on
the 23rd of July 2001, "the Ship
People" melted. Reactions, conversations and
interactions were as varied as the people filling the
crowded space we suddenly shared. Some community members
were happy to see us, others were shy. Some were politely
cool; a grievance that had been building up a head of steam
for 100-year old was not going to disappear in a day, if
ever. I happened upon my family sitting on the floor next to
a totem and felt the security of the anchor they provide me.
Off I went to the next, and next, and next conversation
about who we were, extending congratulations, and
celebrating the importance of the moment. The radio, TV, and
newspaper interviews went by in a blur. The scene shifted to the stage
where the "official" activities took place.
There was the formal signing of the property transfers by
each institution to the Saanya Kwaan and exchange of
gifts. I presented Clan leaders with a silver bowl
commemorating the repatriation and friendship of the
Harriman Expedition Retraced. All eyes fixed on
Kitty as she stepped out of the group and moved to center
stage and waiting Clan Leaders. In her unassuming manner she
extended the greetings and friendship of the Harriman family
to the Saanya Kwaan. The leaders carefully watched
and listened. Without hesitation she spoke of the importance
of this day, and her family's happiness that the
Clan's property was returning home after so many
years. Kitty unfolded a quilt that had been in her family
since 1895 and presented it to the Saanya leadership.
They nodded at her words, shook hands, and accepted the
Harriman's gift of reconciliation and friendship. In
this brief exchange the circle was completed. Where it would lead was less
clear. It was an interesting moment where one very powerful
set of circumstances had gone away, but it was too soon for
the space to be filled by a new understanding and purpose.
For lack of a better word, it was a moment suspended in
"wonderment" and the thought, "Now
what?" The formalities subsided into traditional
dances and celebration that rose in spirit as the evening
turned to night, to early morning. It was in this state, infused
with exhaustion, that I was concluding my last interview, at
mid-night, with TV2 Anchorage. Behind the camera I could see
a member of the expedition staff patiently waiting to get me
on the last van back to the ship. The hallway out was filled
with goodbyes and expressions of relief about all that was
now behind us and little concern at this moment for what lay
ahead. Upon reaching the ship, we were met with the news
that one of our expedition team was still missing, Rosita.
For a ship about to leave port, this was no small matter in
the minds of the Captain and crew. Without boarding the
ship, we turned around and went back to the potlatch. Back
through the crowd, into the side rooms, through the parking
lots: no Rosita. We gave up and returned to the ship where
waiting for me was a note: "Rosita said she is
jumping ship and will meet us in Juneau, 10:20 P.M."
Of course she would stay with her Tlingit relatives on this
important ceremonial and historic occasion. Of course all of
the expedition members had to be onboard before departure.
Bump go the universes.
For information on the Harriman Retraced Expedition e-mail: harriman2001@science.smith.edu
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