And now:[EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: For a partial still in progress photo essay of the Occuaption and Anniversay commemoration of Alcatraz see: http://www.tdi.net/caged/alcatraz Watch for updates... From: Pat Morris <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> http://www.azcentral.com/news/1115alcatraz.shtml 'The Rock' stands for Indian rights Betty Reid The Arizona Republic Nov. 15, 1999 Three decades ago, on a rock called Alcatraz, three young Navajos found their calling. John Chapela was full of fire and eager to correctly tell American history. Anna Boyd hoped to photograph Indian activism at its zenith. Jean Whitehorse hungered to learn about treaties that Washington made with the Indians. In November 1969, young Native Americans came from across the country to gather on the barren prison island in San Francisco Bay, starting a revolution that changed modern relations between the federal government and the nation's more than 400 tribes. One result was creation of the post of assistant Interior secretary for Indian affairs. Another was the end of the government's policy of urbanizing Indians. Alcatraz became a household word throughout Indian Country. The people who succeeded in taking over the island Nov. 20, 1969, were transformed into famous political warriors. But even for youngsters who visited later, the 19-month protest was a very big deal, an Indian Woodstock of sorts. Today, Chapela, 53, is a successful Window Rock lawyer. Boyd, 53, is a schoolteacher at Burrego Pass, N.M., and Whitehorse, 49, is a librarian in Crownpoint, N.M. For Chapela, whose roots are from Lower Greasewood, the journey to Alcatraz started at the University of New Mexico, where he was a student. The campus featured a great deal of student activism with daily protests of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. Word spread like wildfire among young Indian students that small California tribes were in danger of extinction under an Eisenhower administration policy that sought to do away with federal recognition of tribes. There also was a demand by urban Indians in the San Francisco Bay area for better treatment. Many Indians living the Bay area at the time had been relocated by the federal government from 1952 to 1967, under a government policy to encourage assimilation into White society. Most learned only manual trades, and few found themselves on college campuses. The cry for Red Power was heard on the high deserts of Arizona and New Mexico. Adventurous youngsters began an exodus west, not knowing that, 30 years later, they would tell their own colorful stories, just like those who were at Woodstock. But for those who went to Alcatraz, it wasn't all about love, music and peace. It was about justice, mainly, although love, music and peace were part of the mix. "It was a group of us who decided to continue our social awakening and take a trek to San Francisco," Chapela recalled. "And the reason for that, it wasn't just, 'Let's just get up and go.' We needed to continue with our efforts to help native peoples." Chapela learned about the cultures and languages of many, many tribes from around the world. He recalled the day that he and three friends scraped up gas money; bought boxes of saltine crackers, potted meat, Spam, Vienna sausages; and crammed bedrolls into a rickety car. It was a shock for Navajo parents to hear that their children wanted to leave home and spend time occupying a former prison site in the middle of an ocean. In fact, many parents called any youngster with long hair in the 1960s, Tsii yogy alchini, young bushy-haired hippies. Chapela and two other carloads of Indian students made it to San Francisco in five days, arriving in April 1970. For desert Indians, the Bay snatched their breath away. "Our first thought was to get our bearings," Chapela said. "That is, to wait until morning to see where the sun rises from. Open up some more cans of Spam and potted meat and wait until morning. "The next day, we made our trek into town and went to Haight-Ashbury and asked, 'Where do the Indians live?' " A few weeks behind Chapela was Boyd, a young hitchhiker. Boyd and a band of UNM students, sporting dingo boots, flared Levis, cowboy boots, T-shirts and long hair, had experience in school protests. They had demanded that the Indian studies department be moved out of anthropology. "It was spring and we had the Indian Power machine going and we were determined to change the world. We wanted our voice heard," Boyd said. "When you're in college, you're half spaced out all the time, but we had a cause -- Indians should have their rights." The hungry thumbers were dumped in an industrial park. People pointed them to the Bay, to Fisherman's Wharf, where they met other Indians waiting to take a boat to Alcatraz. The ride over was memorable. Though fierce of heart, none of the activists had ever braved choppy waters in tiny boats. Few knew how to swim, and their knuckles were white by the time they reached Alcatraz Island. Boyd's constant companion at Alcatraz was a Pentax K-1000. Through her lens, she saw a lot of families with children, shot fiery speeches made by Indian leaders, boat rides, the Pacific, names and tribal affiliations scribbled on windows or walls, rays of sun slashing through prison bars and such slogans as, "This is Indian Land." She also photographed powwows and high-octane partying. "I thought I was a good photographer," said Boyd, who stayed a month at Alcatraz. "I thought I could show real people and not the Indians in feathers and war bonnets that White people perceive us to be. There were a lot of children." She believes she accomplished her goal, because her photos captured Indian people in cowboy hats, fringed jackets, blue jeans, short-cropped hair -- even women with Ann-Margret hairdos. Although the Indian leadership on Alcatraz was loose, a lot of work lay ahead. Chapela taught political science to the children of the occupiers, while Boyd taught art to elementary-age children. Boyd and Chapela met at Alcatraz. Chapela now is clean-cut, wears Dockers and designer ties and is married. Boyd, also married, continues to wear the flowing skirts that her husband calls hippie clothes. The paths of the Alcatraz veterans cross once in a while. "We laugh," Boyd said. "I think because of the memory of the past and what we did. That was a great time in my life." Whitehorse, who was 19, rode a city bus to Fisherman's Wharf. In 1969, the government forced her to move from boarding schools in New Mexico to a YWCA in Oakland and demanded she learn secretarial skills. Part of her training required Whitehorse to behave and stay away from violent protests against Uncle Sam. She ignored the rules, joining other Native Americans at a place called the Indian Friendly House in Oakland. And Alcatraz was on everyone's lips. Instantly, she became a weekend Rock resident and joined the American Indian Movement. She soaked up American history from Chapela and other political science instructors. She learned the horror of how the government historically failed to honor treaties it signed with tribes, cheating Indians out of their land. Three decades later, Whitehorse says, the government schools should have taught her true history. "I had no idea what a treaty was," Whitehorse said. "Boarding schools don't teach you about a treaty. They teach you about how Columbus came. Alcatraz taught me who I am. "I'm a Navajo with a history." Reprinted under the Fair Use http://www4.law.cornell.edu/uscode/17/107.html doctrine of international copyright law. <><<<<<>>>>><><<<<> Tsonkwadiyonrat (We are ONE Spirit) http://www.tdi.net/ishgooda/ <><<<<<>>>>><><<<<>
