Native Seattle by Coll-Peter Thrush Page A

Pe-ka-nim of the Hoh to Indians everywhere, “and especially to their old enemies,” to join in a canoe race at the fair. But such competitions, like the canoe races on 6 September, “Seattle Day,” could also facilitate new alliances among tribal communities. As teams from Washington's Skokomish and Tulalip reservations and British Columbia's Lyacksun and Penelekuts reserves attracted thousands of spectators to the shores of Lake Union, they both drew white approval and helped craft a shared Native identity. 27
     
    At least one Native group came to Seattle explicitly to resist white authority. These were the Tsimshian of Metlakatla, a Christian settlementfounded in 1862 by the missionary William Duncan, who sought to isolate the Tsimshian from outside influences. Many Tsimshian people saw this isolation as a barrier to opportunity and began to rebel against Duncan's authority, and by 1909, various American governmental bodies had gotten involved as Tsimshians and others complained to the Department of Interior and the Alaskan educational authorities. While the Metlakatlan contributions to the fair—a brass band and a ladies' auxiliary known for its needlepoint—were portrayed as the products of civilizing efforts, several Tsimshian fairgoers were in fact trying to oust the man seeking to civilize them. The auxiliary president, for example, was Mrs. Bertrand Mitchell, whose husband was in the midst of a campaign against Duncan, writing to Alaska school commissioners, “We are slaves here. We are getting poorer all the time and Mr. Duncan is getting richer. What is the matter with the government?” Meanwhile, William Pollard, assistant leader of the brass band, had also vocally opposed Duncan's rule. Needlepoint and rousing marches, then, were a way for Tsimshian people to join the outside world. Coming to the AYPE was an act of resistance. 28
     
    Finally, Native people also came to the fair as full-fledged spectators, taking in the urban spectacle like everyone else. The Post-Intelligencer reported that Indian observers at the canoe races, for example, “put the organized yells of some rah, rah boys completely to shame.” Meanwhile, several Lakota Wild West Show performers and their families, “decked out in all the picturesque attire of the cow country—sombreros, chaps and all the rest of it,” went to the Pay Streak one afternoon for fun and encountered a group of Flathead Indians. “To the uninitiated it looked as if a real war whoop was the next thing to be expected,” winked the Times , but “then the chief of the Rosebuds gave a guttural command and his braves lined up in single file and slowly approached a similar file which formed on the instant among the Flatheads. For fifteen minutes the warriors of the two tribes shook hands silently. Not a word was passed between them and there was never a smile until the ceremony was over and then they fraternized as if they had come from the same reservation.” The two groups then went to visit the Eskimo Village, where they showed the Siberians, the Tlingit shaman Skhandoo, the “Eskimobelle” Columbia, and the gawking crowds “what a war dance is like when danced among friends.” Then the Lakotas and Flatheads finished the day with a ride on the Ferris wheel. 29
     
    We cannot know what the Indians on the Ferris wheel thought of the Eskimo Village, the Baby Incubators, the Upside Down House, or the Temple of Palmistry. Native people probably found the AYPE awe inspiring, offensive, hilarious, and perhaps even boring. But they may also have seen deeper meanings for themselves—a Wild West Show as a mark of prestige, an invitation to the Pay Streak as a gesture of friendship, a “war dance among friends” as a step toward a shared Native identity. As the center of a vast regional empire, Seattle had become an important venue in which to pursue old and new Native ambitions. Not only did canoes represent Indian migration to and from the city, but when