ABSOLUTELY -- WELL, SOMEWHAT -- HERETICAL
THOUGHTS [HUNTER GRAY / HUNTER BEAR] -- A NUMBER OF POSTS --
[HUNTER BEAR]

The new enlarged and
updated edition of my book, JACKSON MISSISSIPPI: AN AMERICAN
CHRONICLE OF STRUGGLE AND SCHISM, is now fully available for
purchase. The publisher is Bison Books/University of
Nebraska Press.
The initial Introduction in the two earlier
editions has been replaced by one written by me: "On The River Of No
Return." This is, in many ways, a large, additional chapter [about
9500 words] which up-dates Mississippi, discusses our family's always
interesting experiences since the first edition of JM appeared
in 1979, and contains supplemental autobiographical material. And, of
course, it also contains something of my reflections as a life-long
social justice organizer.
This page contains a mix of a sampling of our
best and more recent posts -- all with a social justice focus.
FIGHTING SYSTEMIC LUPUS FOR EIGHT
YEARS AND WINNING (WITH A FEW BASIC REFLECTIONS ON EXTRATERRESTRIALS AND
OUR ENCOUNTER EXPERIENCES THEREWITH (HUNTER GRAY JULY 21 2011)
This is going to a few people significantly
interested in a sensible approach to UFO/ET matters and also to a few
friends whose minds are commendably open on that score. At this point, I am
not inclined personally to waste time on the Gloom and Doomers -- or on
Mindless Skeptics.
This is a rather brief summary of our thoughts
and stance on Extraterrestrial close encounters and involvement. Our
position on this has not changed since our [my oldest son and I] first
conscious -- conscious -- involvement with ETs in 1988. In a fairly
extensive and reflective paper of mine, written two years ago and not yet
published by me, I give our position in trenchant and direct fashion:
"We see the ETs as People --
not angels, devils, psychic phenomena, or time
travelers. And whatever their developmental processes, we see them as
people very much like ourselves. It seems very probable that they long
ago,
with respect to their social / political system or systems, worked out a
sensible balance between collective and individual well-being, drawing
from
the best of the group and from the best of individual creativity. A
significant indication that their ethos is not authoritarian lies in
occasional reports by "encountered humans" of disagreements between crew
members and leaders. More to the point, they could never have
accomplished
that which they've attained and are attaining if theirs was a
totalitarian
or "hive" super-collective mentality -- or individualistic in a
cut-throat
sense. They are distinctive, individual personalities, working
together. I
cannot resist injecting the time-honored principle of "tribal
responsibility" -- i.e., the group has an obligation to the individual
and
the individual to the group; and where, in the event of a conflict, the
group's well-being comes first -- but where there are also clearly
defined
areas of individual and family autonomy into which the group cannot
intrude.
Faithful adherance to those specific principles has enabled Native
American
tribal societies, cultures, and people to survive the past several very,
very difficult centuries.
We see the ETs as non-threatening -- indeed, friendly -- but, given the
turbulent nature of our planet, understandably cautious. It's obvious
that,
in a number of respects including technology, they are "ahead" of us.
If
they wished, they could easily subjugate and exploit our earth and our
people -- probably could have long, long ago. [But why indeed would any
rational entitity -- and the ETs are obviously quite rational -- want to
assume the management of this notoriously problematic planet?]
We see these encounters as comparatively selective, unusual, but not
especially rare. In the years since 1988, I have dialogued extensively
with
probably 200 or so individuals who have had experiences comparable to
our
own and whose friendly perceptions are similar. These make up a good
cross
section with respect to race, ethnicity, culture, social class.
Assimilating all that we've experienced and learned, it seems highly
probable that the ETs are involved in a long-term sensitization project,
designed to acquaint us of earth with the nearby presence of friendly ET
life. By World War II and its immediate aftermath and the beginning of
our
experience with nuclear matters, much of the human race was well along
the
trail of "readiness" for at least something of an awareness of the ETs.
We
could and certainly can now, in many cases, conceive of travel and life
in
outer space. This perception of ours is increasing rapidly. . . .
And, however awkwardly and painfully [to put it mildly], our human
values
and our social consciousness and sensitivity are steadily improving in
such
areas as race and ethnicity and inter-cultural relations -- and in a
recognition of the importance of peaceful and harmonious relationships
at
every level of human society.
The ETs have every good and rational reason to develop on our part, with
whatever deliberate pace, a friendly awareness of their friendly
existence
as we move slowly toward substantive entry into outer space.
And, ultimately, as the Streams of Life inevitably do, we will have open
and
friendly contact with the ETs, productive communication, and mutually
beneficial exchange of experiences and knowledge.
We all, the ETs and ourselves, have much indeed -- rich and valuable --
to
offer each other.
And speaking as someone who has spent his life so far on the organizing
and
educational social justice fronts -- frequently from the perspective of
race
and ethnic relations and often under extraordinarily difficult
conditions --
I am very well aware of how fast inter-personal and social barriers can
fall
when participants are willing to see each other as fellow offspring in a
vast and friendly Creation; and to recognize the great and wonderful
Promise thereof and therein.
I still see and savor the great and shining vistas of the high mountains
and
deep canyons.
But now, I also see far, far Beyond.
And I know that no intelligent life, however far and away, is alien to
me --
or to any of us."
As most know, I have now,
2011, completely defeated an extremely serious version of Systemic Lupus,
genetic and hereditary, which struck me full scale in 2003. It's formally
considered to be a "deadly" disease for which there is no cure. In fact,
its genetic basis, still not delineated with any precision, may very
well involve parts of at least 12 interrelated genes in an extraordinarily
complex arrangement. [While one is tempted to say, "Find'em and gouge them
out," I suspect that could wreck a person's entire system.] Initially, I
was not expected by most to survive and then it was felt that the best cut
of the cards I could get would simply be some "control" of the disease in
the context of a drab existence. But I am a natural fighter and my allies
-- "seen" and "unseen" -- have played an enduring and significant role on my
behalf.
By 2009 and 2010, however, it was clear
that "something" very positive was occurring within me. We delayed a final
victory statement until very extensive blood tests this past spring --
reflected by nine pages of detailed lab reports -- indicated there was no
active Lupus within me -- and that my much ravaged organs were in excellent
shape. This is discussed in our website page, "Shooting Lupus" which gives
full credit to, among other factors, our friendly ET encounters which, as
most of you are aware, involved beneficial medical work with our endrocrine
glands: pituitary, thyroid, thymus. Some recipients of this have seen most
of the material on that page -- but I have feathered it out somewhat.
Included in the page are the links to Ms. Virginia Aaronson's Celestial
Healing studies and my two related web pages on our UFO/ET encounters. Our
website link for "Shooting Lupus" is
http://hunterbear.org/shooting_lupus.htm
I expect to have more to say in due
course on ET matters and much more. I always do!
With best personal wishes,
Hunter Bear
COMMENTS:
JYRI KOKKONEN (FINLAND):
Dear Hunter,
Considering the recently emerging discoveries of more and
more stars in our Milky Way galaxy that are orbited by planets
capable of supporting conditions for life as known on our planet, we
should, at the least, keep an open mind in these matters. Add to
that the possibility of life in other forms in environments that are
toxic in Earth terms* and expand the whole idea to the innumerable
galaxies beyond ours, the case for human uniqueness kind of
withers. Not to mention the possibility that our technologies just
might not be the cutting edge in a far bigger setting.
A look at the sky on a clear night easily brings many of
these things to mind, as it has for countless generations of people.
The Drake Equation on the probability (roughly put) of the
existence of intelligent communicating civilizations within our
galaxy has been criticized as simplistic, and the attached link to a
Drake-inspired "ETI calculator" might be a bit naive, but I find it
nonetheless fascinating to play with the numbers:
Eagerly expecting more on the ET subject.
*As suggested by discoveries of life existing in volcanic
ocean-bottom environments here on earth.
JOHN SIME:
"And I know that no
intelligent life, however far and away, is alien to me --
or to any of us."
I've always loved that thought from you, and I think of
it often. jhs
KATHY MARDEN:
Dear Hunter,
It was so nice to hear from you that you are doing
well.
I received some very good news today. Several years
ago, I petitioned the State of NH to erect a historical
marker for Betty and Barney Hill. I was informed 2-3 months
ago that the funding had been approved. Today I received a
photo of the marker that has been erected on Route 3 in
North Lincoln, NH, only one mile north of the close
encounter field. It is in front of the Indian Head Resort.
Best wishes,
Kathy Marden
SCOTT COLBORN:
Hello Hunter,
Thank you as always for sharing your thoughts
and ideas - given your own personal experiences in labor
and civil rights and your personal experiences with
regard to ET's. We humans try to limit the creation of
God; and we occasionally can hear the gentle loving
laughter from that Creator source. Patient in our
growth and forgiving of our faults and wrong choices.
If you haven't published this yet via facebook,
I'd like to do so. If you have, I'll find it on your
page and share with my friends and colleagues.
Always a distinct pleasure to open my e-mail and
hear from you. Your presence is always welcome on my
radio program as well, Hunter. I'm booking November and
December (Saturdays 10 am - 12 noon Central Time) as I
write this. I know you keep busy; I'd always look
forward to having you again as a guest on the Exploring
Unexplained Phenomena program.
Kathleen Marden is my guest this Saturday; she
recalled in an e-mail coming to Lincoln, NE, years ago
for a conference and hearing you speak. She enjoyed the
lecture and the conference as well.
My son Asher is upstairs napping - he's
detassling in this severe heat and humidity in the
Lincoln, NE, area. A tough guy. I'm out the door to
mow now - it's today or next week so I'll soak my floppy
brim hat in water and go out and endure and get the job
done.
Peace always ! Scott
DAVID NELSON:
"Excellent note! Thanks for sharing. I enjoyed
it."
"Great!"
ALTA BRUCE:
I Love the article! You have as my
professor inspired me and still do. I'm so
thankful the Creator put you and your family in
my pathway of this life.
DONNA SEEBO (VIA SCOTT COLBORN):
Hi Scott,
What a powerful
statement by Hunter
does he do interviews,
have a book? His wisdom is deeply
perceptive.
Have a fabulous weekend.
Thank you for keeping in
touch.
JEFF DANELEK (VIA SCOTT
COLBORN):
Hi Scott
Thanks for
sending this along. I find myself in
agreement with much of it and consider
it to be, indeed, a good, rational
position. (Curious how the people who
happen to agree with me are always the
most rational, isnt it?) Do you think
Hunter Gray would appreciate it if I
contacted him directly with a few
comments?
Jeff
(P.S. This
might be good fodder for our interview
on the 6th.)
(P.P.S. Ill
be appearing on the Discovery Channel
season 3 opener Ancient Aliens on July
28th in an episode entitled Aliens and
the Old West. Might be your chance to
see what I look like when Im not
resting in my coffin.)
ROXANNA WOODS (VIA SCOTT COLBORN):
Wow. Thanks
for sharing, Scott! This really shows
truth!
Peace,
Roxanna
FROM HUNTER BEAR DURING A
SEPTEMBER 8 2011 DISCUSSION ON
REDBADBEAR LIST:
In a
way, Sam's
obviously
quick comment
early this
morning about
"alien
visitation" came
out as a
sidebar chide --
even though
I certainly
doubt it was
meant in that
fashion. I
responded
briefly to that
but I'll respond
just a little
more.
Sam
takes that which
his friend saw
at 9-11 as
accurate. Fine.
He knows his
friend well and
has for some
time. Friends
who know John
and myself well
over time have
had no problem
at all accepting
our account of
our ET
experiences.
Vehement
skeptics on this
issue strike me
as just plain
mindless, if not
afraid -- and,
increasingly, I
spend little or
no time with
them. Their
focus is Against
something.
That's the
antithesis of
"frontier" exploration.
No amount of
evidence,
however well
grounded, is
ever enough for
them.
I have a great
deal of faith in
Science -- but
not in the
exclusionary
sense exhibited
by some [not
all] secular
materialists and
"scientific
fundamentalists".
These
folk strike me
as using the
equivalent of an
old 36"
yardstick to
"measure" and
"assess" a
vast totality of
complexity
beyond our
comprehension
-- which, as per
our efforts and
those of other
forces, is a
very,
very slowly
unfolding one.
But that process
is never
completed.
Sam opines that
ET matters have
no political
consequences.
That's likely
officially true
in the public
sense at this
point. But that
could and will
change. An
extremely significant
frontier ahead
of us all will
not only be in
space -- in
the "empty" sense
-- but in
overcoming our
human
ethnocentrism
[and fear] in
our
relationships
with intelligent
life Out There.
Here's a very
apt comment sent
to me a few
weeks ago by
Jyri Kokkonen,
our good Finnish
correspondent.
[Hunter]
BRIEF THOUGHTS
ON HUMAN CHALLENGES: OLD TIME, NOW,
FUTURE (HUNTER GRAY
AUGUST 2 2011)
Like a great
many, I've spent some
time observing the
dismal events in DC. (I
am spending much of my
time now in planning a
long future -- in some
detail.) My personal
and jaundiced position
on the current political
situation is pretty well
known and I see little
purpose in going over it
at this point. Posting
in general appears
fairly minimal on most
discussion lists.
My post the
other day involving Loki
Mulholland's two blog
posts on his mother,
Joan; myself and Eldri;
and the Woolworth Sit-In
did draw a few good
comments from our
lists. More
good comments came from
off-list sources. One,
from a committed
advocate for people: "Hunter,
this is great stuff. I
don't know if I have
ever told you, but when
I'm trying to advocate
for something or
somebody, I try to
envision how you would
handle the situation.
You've been very
inspirational for me,
and I am very proud to
know you. Thank you."
Well, I've
learned some good things
from him. And there
were comments from
former Tougaloo
College students, one of
whom -- a hard working
young lady in our
Jackson Boycott [which
led quickly and
directly to the massive
Jackson Movement] --
wrote:
"Thanks for
sharing. I agree with
Loki's assessment of you
and all the others who
sat in @ Woolworth's in
Jackson 50 yrs. ago. You
all were brave &
courageous individuals.
You're
certainly one of
greatest story
tellers that I have
ever had the
privilege of
knowing. I can still
picture and hear you
telling stories in
Social Science &
History classes in
the basement of
Galloway Hall @
Tougaloo. AND I
remember how you
chain - smoked those
non-filtered
cigarettes as you
held our attn. when
you spoke about
Native- Americans,
Arizona, bears, etc.
(lol).
Stay well."
Four packs
of Pall Malls a day
-- and, as the
Jackson Movement
rose and roiled,
five cheeseburgers
and a pitcher of ice
water whenever time
allowed.
At Tougaloo,
as in many other
small college
situations, you
often found yourself
teaching outside
your academic
field. My M.A. was
in Sociology -- but
my B.S. was in
Social Studies and
that included 70
semester hours in
several fields and
encompassed what
amounted to a
history major.
All of that
came in right handy
at Tougaloo, a few
miles north of
Jackson
Mississippi, where I
found myself in a
number of
"specialties",
including "World
Civilization." And
it was in "American
Government", only a
few days after Eldri
and I arrived at
Tougaloo in the late
summer of 1961, that
a student [and
quickly a fine
friend and colleague
to this moment],
Colia Liddell, and
now Colia
Liddell Lafayette
Clark, asked me to
become Advisor to
the North Jackson
Youth Council of
NAACP. Deeply
honored, I quickly
agreed -- politely
brushing aside well
meant warnings from
some fellow faculty
members that I was
courting a great
deal of personal
trouble.
Well, there
was that for sure --
Big Trouble in many
directions -- and we
all wouldn't have
missed any of it for
all the world.
It was a
challenge teaching
World Civilization
in Galloway Hall --
especially in the
afternoon when the
sun came through the
windows and, sans
any air
conditioning, some
students, despite
their best efforts,
grew sleepy. For my
part, I tied as much
subject matter as I
could to the
contemporary
challenges in
Mississippi and the
South in general.
We tagged The
Pharaoh as Governor
Ross Barnett, Moses
and Jesus as civil
rights organizers,
and much and many
more in that vein.
(And, if all else
failed, I could
always stir up a
great discussion
around Evolution.)
And it
wasn't long before
we were building a
Movement that shook
Jackson and environs
to their roots --
and contributed
mightily to the
rapidly growing
Civil Rights River
that was flooding
and nourishing Dixie
and much of the
Nation. And many of
us indeed have
traveled "far and
away" on that Great
Water.
That took,
from all of us,
sensibly altruistic
Vision, hard
grassroots Work, a
great deal of
Courage.
Those
dimensions seem
presently in short
supply in many
quarters of this
country.
But the
Cosmic trails are
always firm -- and
Spring will come
again.
Keep
Fighting,
Hunter
[Hunter Bear]
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER
BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR]
Mi'kmaq /St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Protected by
NaŽshdoŽiŽbaŽiŽ
and Ohkwari'
Mary Ann
Hall Williams:
AMEN !!!! Right
on. WWW,
Mary Ann
("WWW"
means We Will
Win -- motto of
the Jackson
Movement)
Cleveland
Donald:
Hunter:
Great and
quite moving
reflections.
Keep
going. I
hope that
Colia is
well.
Cleveland
Thank you as
always for
your
wonderful
screeds.
They are as
almost as
awesome as
your
actions.
Further comment by Hunter -- in
response to
some
discussion:
From the
perspective
within
Dixie,
civil
rights
workers
were
pretty
much on
their
own --
even
after
the
passage
of the
'64
Civil
Rights
Act and
the '65
Voting
Rights
Act.
The
Eisenhower
approach
was hands
off at
best. We
were in
the
hardcore
South
from
1961
into
1967 and
what I
saw
during
the JFK
and LBJ
administrations
became
"better"
only
under
tremendous
grassroots
pressure
and
then at
a slow
pace
until
well after
the
mid-60s.
The
Justice
Department
was
usually
very
slow to
act [if
it acted
at
all] and
the FBI,
then as
now, was
an
adversary.
Media
coverage
did
become
better,
though
selectively, as
the '60s
progressed
but
rarely
got into
the
"shadowy,
out of
the way
places"
that
characterize
much of
Dixie --
until
tragedy
had
occurred
and not
always
then.
In the
early
'60s,
the
mainline
American
"establishment"
was
usually
pretty
remote.
Part of
that
changed
as the
Movement
burgeoned
-- but
many of
the
liberals were
very
fickle
allies.
In the
end, and
it seems
to be an
eternal
fact, the
grassroots
and bona
fide
organizers powered
the
"engine"
of
substantive
social
change.
True,
there
are
people
-- young
and old
-- who
right
now are
doing
their
best.
And much
of it is
good
work.
But, as
witness
the
anemic
peace
movement
as
simply
one of
many
examples,
there
are not
enough.
We
certainly
agree on
that!
Hopefully,
that
will
change
as the
times,
increasingly,
demand
urgent
and significant
social
justice.
Best,
Hunter
STILL HERE: SANGUINARY SKIES AND ALL [HUNTER
GRAY/HUNTER BEAR - MAY 21, 2011]
Decades ago, a buddy and I,
traveling in my old Chev station wagon, left Casper, Wyoming in
the evening traveling east on a main highway [two lane, of
course, as they almost all were in those days.] Although winter,
there was little snow. Acting on youthful inspiration
[some of which I still retain], we decided to take in the Black
Hills and, in addition, follow my shortcut instincts and turn
off on a reasonably well traveled ranch dirt road pointing
vaguely northeastward. We were on that lonely trek
for close to three hours -- and at least four barb wire cattle
gates -- and it was very, very dark. But our faith in
ourselves continued unabated and finally -- finally -- we
saw a couple of lonely cars rushing along a highway a few miles
to the east. We entered that and then, almost immediately,
saw the lights of a small town well ahead to the north.
Turned out to be tiny Newcastle, Wyoming, with a Best Western Motel, right on the edge of the Hills.
Neither of us ever admitted it but I think we were both
relieved.
But I wasn't especially surprised
when I awoke this morning at 3:30 a.m., looked out the window,
and saw the lights of Pocatello on the other side of the
Valley. Things were intact world-wise -- so far, so good. Of
course, the End is supposed to commence at 4 p.m. "our time" --
Mountain Time. But, really, I'm not worried. Before I turned
in last night, I quipped that the End isn't in our Catholic
Missal and I don't think it's in the Book of Mormon, either.
More to my serious, personal point, I can't recall any
appropriate Native prophecies with a precise chronological fix.
[The sometimes touted Mayan one might be the closest -- but I'm
inclined to take that symbolically.]
But this early morning did put me in
mind of very early January 1, 2000. Back in that comparatively
halcyon time, Bill Clinton's FBI Director, Louis Freeh, had been
publicly warning for months that the time turn-over into the New
Century might well produce massive computer breakdowns and,
simultaneously, a huge militia upsurge -- especially in the
West. Well, there were militias in those days [as there are a
few nowadays], almost all of them rather pathetic wannabee
"soldiers", and almost all of them quite harmless except to the
earth and grass and trees. A very few were genuinely dangerous
-- the Oklahoma City bombing was tragically real. But then and
now, I and many others suspect that the Freeh obsession with
militias had a lot to do with Clinton's high priority attack on
firearms and firearm owners generally, despite the fact that
most of the latter, then and now, scorn militia play-games.
So, when I looked out my window in
the very early hours of the New Century, and saw --
unsurprisingly -- the lights of Poky, heard NO gunfire off
yonder anywhere, noted my computer was essentially fine -- I
just went back to sleep. Louis Freeh carried on into Bush 2 but
dropped the militia thing at that point and began talking about
radical anarchists and such.
And then came The One Big Menace,
much inflated but with some clearly threatening facets, that's
still with us -- and that's now led to the new "Peace
President's" three wars in Muslim countries, continued domestic
repression, and the extension of the Patriot Act -- lineal
descendant of Bill Clinton's militia-focused Anti-Terrorism Act.
This morning, I didn't go back to
sleep. Poured a cup of strong black coffee and a glass of cold
pure mountain water and lit my tobacco pipe. First thing I saw
was a fill-in "short" on Turner Classic Movies. It was a
1950s state police training film, obviously set in California,
with a focus on tear gas usage. Although one segment involved
conventional holed-up outlaws, the most interesting piece
was the usage of the Gas on simulated strikers in front of a
U.S. Steel property. The strike leader was played by a very
dark Chicano-type with a waving fist and a truly "hateful"
face. Tear gas took care of all of that with dispatch. [Sort of
like driving insects off with DDT.]
Well, the class struggle hasn't
changed an iota since then save perhaps to recently get
much "sharper" -- nor have its basic components for Good
[strikes and demonstrations] and for Evil [police and corporate
repression.] It was encouraging to read the Nation piece [via
Portside] which indicates AFL-CIO now plans to shift much of its
heretofore political action dinero into direct organizing at the
points of production. Well, a great many of us -- including
myself -- have advocated that for a very, very long time
indeed. Let's hope it actually happens. [I did, of course,
renew my UAW/National Writers Union dues the other day for yet
another year.]
I don't think the Creator -- and Its
many entities such as Jerusalem Slim [Jesus] -- are going to let
this human-messed old World off with any smooth and fast and
easy exit. The lights of Newcastle and Pocatello still glow.
We're going to be around for a long, long time and the urgency
and the Call of the Save the World Business remains high in the
global skies -- often skies of sanguinary red -- and the New
World calls from Beyond the Mountains Yonder.
In Solidarity,
Hunter [Hunter Bear]
Thank you for this beautiful, and
insightful, piece of writing! Yes, yes, and yes! Mom was cute
the other day. She said, "Well, I'm going to Galina for the
weekend, so if it's the end of the world...I'll be in Galina."
I hope she has a great weekend. Today seems to have brought me
a sore throat, so I'm going to look to my remedies then go for a
walk.
Have a lovely Saturday!
Susan (Susan Mary Power, Standing Rock Sioux, noted writer,
very old family friend.)
BERTIE COUNTY, NORTH
CAROLINA [HUNTER GRAY/HUNTER BEAR] SPRING 2011
Like a vast number of people in this country and, I'm
sure, many globally, I've been watching with chilled
fascination the effects of the Great Tornado Horror
that's hit Kansas and Oklahoma down into Dixie and up
the eastern seaboard into the Carolinas and Virginia.
Jackson, Mississippi, of course, we know well -- and I
could recognize a locale or two -- and the same with
some areas just to the north of there: fringes of the
Tougaloo community and the newer suburbs reaching toward
Canton. The same with North Carolina, especially at
Raleigh where we had once been based for several years,
and -- very, very much Bertie County in the Northeastern
Black-Belt into which, as with other counties in that
region, we had carried our civil rights organizing
campaign in the mid-1960s widely and successfully.
Bertie [it's pronounced Burr-Tee] has suffered horrible
devastation. The very small town of Colerain ["Coh-Rain"]
has been virtually wiped out. At least a dozen people
have died in Bertie, with many others injured.
I'm not a person who cries tears but I've come closer to
it when I see the television shots of Bertie County.
Here are just a few of many vivid recollections of
around 45 years ago.
Bertie is a large county, mostly rural and 70% Black --
with some small Native communities, mostly in the White
Oak Swamp area. It's still dominated economically by
planters and very small town businesspeople and, in the
mid-60s, it was one of the ten most economically poor
counties in the United States. There was virtually no
industry back then and there's little now. It was old
Tuscarora Indian country and a major base for that
Iroquoian nation but, around 1715, most of the
Tuscarora removed to upstate New York and became the
sixth nation of the Iroquois Confederacy. But some
remained in their traditional places in North Carolina
and still remain.
Back in the '60s, in my day, a state official in Raleigh
had been publicly quoted as saying that, "Going to
Bertie County is going into the 1700s."
When we began our North Carolina Black Belt campaign [I
was Field Organizer for SCEF -- the Southern Conference
Educational Fund], we started in Halifax County -- well
to the west of Bertie. It was trench warfare, pure and
simple. That intractably segregated and
poverty-ridden county was tightly organized against any
modicum of social change -- Klan, Birch Society, North
Carolina Defenders of States Rights [the N.C. affiliate
of the white Citizens Councils.] With a whirlwind of
grassroots meetings in Black and Indian communities,
boycotts and demonstrations, we produced a massive voter
registration drive which -- following violence at the
polls and economic reprisals -- resulted in our winning
a sweeping voter rights victory in Federal Court in
Raleigh. The result of that was the registration of
thousands of Blacks, and many Indians as well, for the
first time since Reconstruction. [This was a year before
the passage of the Voting Rights Act in1965.] Other
Halifax victories followed --the county was
essentially broken in a year, though we had mop-up-- and
the news of all of this spread into other Black Belt
counties which well fit well into our
longer-term multi-county organization goal.
And I found myself speaking, as I had in the Halifax
campaign, sometimes three times a night but now in
churches in different counties. While we sowed the
seeds of activist organization in those, I concentrated
the primary thrust of our efforts on a county by county
basis. Things moved fast and productively.
In an effort to spread "the word" even further, we
organized a very large scale Civil Rights and
Anti-Poverty Conference to be held at the Indian Woods
Baptist Church, in early March, 1965, out in a rural
setting, in Bertie -- into which we had not yet entered
officially. The conference was extremely
well publicized over much of northeast/east North
Carolina -- and I'd lined up a fine array of speakers
and workshop leaders. One of those, for the always
important freedom music dimension, was my old Arizona
friend, Clyde Appleton, then in North Carolina as a
music prof -- and currently on our Sycamore and Bear
Without Borders discussion lists. Ms. Ella Baker, a
fine friend always and a SCEF staff colleague, was the
keynoter.
When we arrived at the Indian Woods church about
forty-five minutes before the affair was to begin, only
the church's committed clergyman's car was in the
parking lot. A large pig was wallowing happily in a
nearby mud puddle. But, as per "Southern Time," a vast
number of people, some in rented buses, arrived en masse
just a little late. The conference drew 1,043 people
from 14 counties and went from about 10:30 am deep into
the night. It was hailed in the region and the state
itself as a major success.
At the conclusion of the conference, a key local Bertie
leader approached me. Rev. W.M. Steele was a man of
direct statement. "We want you", he said emphatically,
"here in Bertie. And as fast as you can come." [He had,
I learned later, once been a rural school teacher but
had been fired for teaching the students the intricacies
of math -- and showing them how their sharecropper
families were being cheated by the plantation owners at
settling-up time.]
I was certainly game. The next day, I met with a Steele
and a number of others. This was the
essentially secular dimension. There was another,
mandatory meeting required -- a very important meeting
with the religious Elder of the county, a man around 90
years of age. He headed the county-wide Ministerial
Alliance. "We have to meet with him," said Steele, "and
he definitely wants to meet you."
I had no problem with that. In my black suit and with
Steele by my side, I met a few a few days later with the
Patriarch. He sat in a chair, the more senior Bertie
clergy adjacent to him, younger clergy a bit further
back. The arrangement and the ethos struck me as
tribal. Steele introduced me -- many of the clergy had
been at the Conference -- and I sat in a chair directly
in front of the awsome elder who I now saw as
the Primary Chieftain. He looked me over carefully and
then, in a not unfriendly fashion, asked me a number of
pertinent personal questions, followed by several
very apt ones on my organizing approach. I responded
fully. Then, suddenly, with a huge and warm smile to
me, he stood. We all stood and he extended his hand
which I shook. There was a prayer.
Things moved with powerful whirlwind speed in Bertie. I
spoke all over the county and, as formal organization
took shape, we effectdively addressed a variety of
issues. The Bertie Klan, not nearly the force it had
been in Halifax, tried desperately to mount an
offensive, but had to settle for a number of
cross-burnings. We clearly had the initiative.
A major issue was the refusal by the County Board of
Commissioners to approve the entrance of Federal food
commodities and the new Federal Food Stamp Program into
the county. The planters wanted neither for obvious
reasons -- primarily to keep the sharecroppers down and
totally dependent -- and the urban merchants, such as
they were, while not wanting commodities, did want --
for commercial reasons -- the food stamps.
We organized close to six hundred sharecroppers, Black
-- and some Tuscaroras from the swamp country -- and
marched through the small county seat of Windsor to the
courthouse on the day the commissioners met. This had
been preceded by our written demand notification to
them: we wanted both commodities and stamps. And we also
told them that we were coming in numbers. [The U.S.
Department of Agriculture was amenable to both programs
concurrently in especially needy counties.]
The high sheriff and a few deputies on the courthouse
steps watched us as we marched up and down -- truly a
mass -- in front of the courthouse. Behind the
building were many other lawmen -- some regulars, some
specially deputized for the occasion. Finally, the door
opened. A very ancient old white man, a commissioner,
came out. Looking at the hundreds of very dark faces
and mine, he asked -- knowing, of course, very visually
precisely who I was -- "Is Mistah John Salter here?"
I raised my hand. "We would like you to come in," he
said politely, "and meet with us."
"I'll be glad to," I replied, "but we have local leaders
who must also come." He nodded, again politely.
Inside, we negotiated for about an hour and a half.
Upshot: the Bertie County Board of Commissioners
approved the entrance of both Federal food commodities
and the new Federal Food Stamp Program.
That was for sure a good day. And there were many other
productive Bertie adventures -- and then we were in
Northampton County and some others.
All of it worked out very well indeed.
So now, as I watch the television shots of death and
destruction, I remember. And, sad into the very marrow
of my bones, I know one thing for sure: those very,
very tough Bertie people will never -- ever -- be put
down.
Hunter Bear
BRIEF THOUGHTS ON ADVERSE PRESSURES ON
HIGHER EDUCATION IN THESE TIMES [HUNTER GRAY, MAY 2011]
I remember well at least the latter
period of the Cold War red scare
which was, of course, deeper and
broader than any single person such
as McCarthy. And in academia, as
elsewhere, it could very ugly and
thought-stifling and, with respect
to careers, lethal. There were, as
there always are, courageous
students and faculty -- but it could
be tough going.
The present situation nationally,
and in academia, falls short of the
overtly repressive reach and impact
of that openly witch-hunting epoch
-- in the general sense. But there
is a slowly, yet increasingly
repressive atmosphere with the
subtleties and various foci -- local
matters and some national ones --
gradually coming into sharper
focus. Coupled with this are
widespread cuts in academic
budgets and a consequent rise in
degree and intensity of internal
faculty knifemanship [knifepersonship.]
Tenure is under increasing attack.
Again, there are always courageous
students [more of them by far than
in the '50s] but, with some
commendable exceptions everywhere,
faculty tend to play it safe.
Schools considered top-flight are
having their internal situations.
In many state colleges and
universities, where administrations
are often highly political, academic
freedom can frequently be precarious
even in "normal times". In many of
those settings, there may not be
dramatic situations only
because national media coverage
rarely reaches into those quarters
and, more basically, because faculty
timidity has long ago become part of
the institutional culture.
Hunter Gray / Hunter Bear
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER BEAR/JOHN R
SALTER JR] Mi'kmaq /St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Protected by NaŽshdoŽiŽbaŽiŽ
and Ohkwari'
BROKEN ARROW BROKE NEW TRAIL -- GOOD
TRAIL [HUNTER BEAR/HUNTER GRAY] DECEMBER 26 2009
There's an old Hollywood film which, when it's
occasionally run on television, I always see --
sometimes in part, sometimes all the way
through. It appeared this morning It's Broken
Arrow [1950], the story of Tom Jeffords, a
U.S. Army Scout who, in the Arizona territory of
1870, saw the Apaches as human beings, developed
a friendship with a major Apache leader,
Cochise, married a young Apache woman, and
forged a kind of peace between Cochise and his
people -- and most of the Americans. The film
follows the actual historical record with, all
things considered, reasonable accuracy -- but
with the still common fictional modifications
that characterize Hollywood's treatment of many
subjects.
But, to come quickly to the main point,
Broken Arrow could be considered the first
pro-Native film of widespread reach
ever filmed by Hollywood.
Seen by today's yardsticks, Broken Arrow could,
I suppose, be viewed as simplistic, maybe even a
little hokey. The lead Native figures are played
by non-Indians: Jeff Chandler as Cochise
and Debra Paget as Sonseeahray -- with whom
Jeffords falls in love and marries via the
Apache Way. [She is later killed by Anglo
die-hards.] Jimmy Stewart depicts Jeffords and
Jay Silverheels [Mohawk] plays the dissident
Geronimo.
Broken Arrow was filmed for the greatest part in
the Oak Creek Canyon country, close by to
Flagstaff, but in a much lower elevation. It
was one of the first films to be made in that
beautiful area -- and has been followed by
countless others. The other setting, purely
secondary to Oak Creek, is the film town of Old
Tucson near that then rather small [but not
now] major city of the state.
The filming occurred mostly in 1949, while the
Big Snow that had hit the high country
[Flagstaff got 17 feet in two or three weeks and
more followed] was beginning to melt. A fair
number of Navajo people were used in the film --
something that almost immediately began to
disturb the considerable racist Anglo component
in Flagstaff. When they learned, soon enough,
that the film was really quite pro-Indian, they
became increasingly vocal in their hostility.
There was no violence, such as occurred in the
making of Salt of the Earth in
not-far-away southwestern New Mexico in 1953-54
-- but the level of hostility at Flag was high.
This was much less true at
well-integrated Flagstaff High where I was a
keenly observant sophomore and, as the
controversy went on, a junior.
[Will Geer, the Salt sheriff plays an Anglo
rancher in Broken Arrow. The main screen writer
was Albert Maltz, black-listed in Hollywood by
the House Un-American Activities Committee and
thus never credited for his fine work for Broken
Arrow. Geer was soon to become a black-list
victim -- and so was Salt of the Earth.]
In those days, Phoenix was a 12 hour drive from
Flagstaff [now, sadly, it's less than three],
and the Hollywood film folk bought many supplies
at Flagstaff. That economic fact softened some
-- but only some -- of the pervasive hostility
which reached the point of an effort to prevent
the film, when it was completed, from playing in
town. When Broken Arrow was close to
heading out to the world in 1950, it became
known that it was scheduled to play forthwith at
our primary theatre, The Orpheum. [The other
movie house in town, Lyric, was a dive.]
Opponents of Broken Arrow, at Flag and environs,
called on "white people" to boycott the movie.
At that point, Platt Cline, owner and editor of
the daily paper, Arizona Daily Sun -- and more
than just a "moderate" on racial matters -- ran
an editorial suggesting that people simply see
the film and draw their own conclusions. He
pointed out that Broken Arrow could be
considered, in a very real sense, "our film" --
since it involved Oak Creek country and
Navajos. That netted Platt, a good friend of my
parents, quite a number of hostile letters, He
didn't give a damn, printed some of them.
Flagstaff was pretty pervasively racist -- one
of the reasons our family lived in outlying
parts. It wasn't the total segregation complex
of the Deep South and there were interesting
diversities that warrant a long article in their
own right. The high school, as I've noted, was
thoroughly integrated: Anglo, Chicano, Native,
Black, Chinese. There was a small Black
elementary school. Some restaurants served only
Anglos and I remember outside signs, "No Indians
Or Dogs Allowed"; a few also served Chicanos and
Indians and Orientals; no mainline eating places
served the small Black community which had, of
course, developed its own places which would
serve everyone.
The low-brow Lyric Theatre -- kind of awful in
retropect -- would serve anyone, sit wherever
you wished. The Orpheum had a large balcony
where Blacks had to sit. "Others", whoever they
were, could sit downstairs or in the balcony --
whatever they wished. On the other hand, most
Chicanos and almost all Natives preferred to sit
in the much friendlier balcony -- where our
family always sat and where the price was a bit
lower and, frankly, the view much better.
Broken Arrow came to Flagstaff as scheduled --
in its first release wave. I and my multi-ethnic
group of buddies were there, almost at the head
of the line. We were far from the only ones.
The Orpheum was literally packed brimful --
balcony and downstairs. In the end, it played
at Flag for a number of days -- much longer than
its original scheduling.
And it always drew bumper audiences.
As nearly as I and my family and my friends
could tell, almost everyone in the throngs who
viewed it, liked it very much -- fascinated in
many cases. And almost from the first showing
onward, the bitterly hostile comments by the
die-hards who would eventually die but never
surrender, were muted, no longer public.
Broken Arrow didn't turn Flag into the "beloved
community" -- not a chance of that -- but it was
a very significant step for everyone, and a
source of considerable pride for Indian people.
Years later, in the '60s, I gave a fairly
long speech at Flagstaff which had changed
somewhat for the better, still to this moment an
on-going process. My talk was well attended by
a wide variety of people and, in the course of
it, I mentioned Broken Arrow. I was pleased
that that struck a note of positive resonance
with almost all adults present. They
well recalled the hassle and its aftermath.
So when, as it occasionally does, appear on
television -- and I spot it -- I always
greet Broken Arrow with good words and thoughts,
thank it, and wish it and our Cause, very well
indeed.
Hunter [Hunter Bear]
A LONG TALK AND A LONG WALK, BACK AND FORTH THROUGH TIME
[HUNTER BEAR/HUNTER GRAY -- SUMMER, 2009]
Yesterday around these parts -- as has been the case for weeks
-- we've had extremely heavy rain. Record-setting and the whole region
is under a serious flash-flood watch. Up here on our Idaho hill we are,
of course, "high and dry" with a large blooming green yard area and the
ever-imperialistic Russian Olive tree [only one of our many trees]
moving again to try to envelop our house. Josie [our youngest] and
Cameron and Baby Aiden ["Exit"] were in the nearby small town of Inkom
which was inundated with flash flood stuff but were on higher ground at
Cameron's aunt's home -- and eventually got back to Pocatello. Last
night, my great Cat, the indefatigable Sky Gray awakened me as usual
around 2 a.m. There is some question as to whether she sees me as a
playmate or a plaything but her singular attention and devotion to
me are infinite. [I am sure this strikes a considerable note of
resonance with the several Cat people on some of these lists, e.g.,
David McReynolds, Sam Friedman, and Lois Chaffee.]
Intermixed with all of this, was a very long and excellent phone
visit with Cleveland Donald, Jr. who called from the East Coast where
he's a Black Studies -- and also Caribbean -- professor at a large
university. And, at the same time, he's a busy clergyman. It was a
time machine kind of conversation -- laced with dramatic Mississippi
episodes and the names of old friends, some still with us, some gone,
and some -- like murdered Medgar Evers -- long gone. Cleveland was one
of the first Jackson kids I met when I assumed the role of "Adult
Advisor" of the then tiny -- about nine members -- North Jackson NAACP
Youth Council at the end of the summer of 1961 soon after we came to
Tougaloo College. At that time, he was 14, a serious guy who, when he
visited us at Tougaloo, often became engrossed in Eldri's several books
on philosophy -- some of which she subsequently gave him.
Meeting in semi-clandestine fashion in an old church in the
northern part of Jackson, the Youth Council grew steadily, carried out
manageable and effective single-issue civil rights thrusts, and in the
early fall of 1962, numbered several dozen stalwarts -- ranging in age
from nine years into the early 'twenties. Most were in high school.
Early on we ditched and ignored -- with Medgar Evers' [NAACP field
secretary] quiet approval the requirement by the National NAACP office
that all Youth Council members anywhere had to belong formally to the
NAACP. At the same time, the Youth Council began to stimulate student
activism at Tougaloo College -- then a few miles north of Jackson. I
met regularly with the North Jackson kids at the church and many began
coming to our home on the Tougaloo campus. Lots of Tougaloo students
also came to our place -- and the Salter home became known to
Magnolia friends and foes alike as "Salter's coffee house." The
activist dream of a widespread multi-issue economic boycott of downtown
Jackson -- with the longer range vision of widespread and
massive nonviolent direct action focused on even more issues -- began
with the Youth Council but very early on sparked great good fire at
Tougaloo. Thus in that fall of '62, we planned the Jackson Boycott and
its increasingly possible large scale direct action connotations with
almost militaristic precision. [Given the state of militarism today, I
would use the very apt term, "Iroquoian organizational methodology" --
very systematic, carefully and reasonably structured, democratic.]
Through all of this, Cleveland was a major stalwart.
On our discussion lists, Lois Chaffee, Joan Mulholland, and
Steve Rutledge join me [and Cleveland] with those forever
engraved-in-our-minds images of those truly Great -- and extraordinarily
dangerous -- times. They certainly and personally know the score.
We launched the Jackson Boycott on December 12, 1962, when Eldri
[my spouse] and I and four Black students picketed the Woolworth store
on downtown Capitol Street. It was the first civil rights picket in the
city's history. We were immediately arrested by between 75 and 100 of
Jackson's huge all-White police force. The hysterical reaction by the
power structure and news media gave us the publicity we needed.
Concurrently, North Jackson and Tougaloo students began what became
months of heavy sub-rosa boycott leafleting in the Black neighborhoods,
and speaking appearances at Black churches began in earnest. The Youth
Council flowered out with hundreds of youthful supporters and there was
great activism from Tougaloo -- where Eldri emerged as the Adult Advisor
to the Tougaloo NAACP Chapter. In the meantime, we all welcomed support
from those -- not really that many in Jackson itself at that
time -- involved with other civil rights organizational perspectives.
The saga of the Jackson Boycott Movement and its emergence into
the massively non-violent Jackson Movement -- in the face of the most
brutal and often bloody repression by hordes of "lawmen" and vigilante
Klan types is covered in great detail, along with many collateral
matters, in my own book, Jackson Mississippi: An American Chronicle of
Struggle and Schism. http://hunterbear.org/jackson.htm
We also have a number of Hunterbear website pages on our wild -- but
always well organized -- crusade -- out on one of the most dramatic
of "social frontiers."
At one point, at the end of May 1963, hundreds of Youth Council
members and supporters gathered at Farish Street Baptist Church. After
various speeches, they formed into a developing mass march and -- as
they moved out onto Farish Street, pointed toward the downtown area --
Cleveland was at the very front rank. He gave me a huge smile. The
marchers were confronted by hundreds of Mississippi lawmen of various
kinds who clubbed many, threw the "subversive" American flags carried by
some marchers into the gutters of Farish street, and loaded the hundreds
of demonstrators into a long fleet of dirty, filthy garbage trucks --
carrying them to the Mississippi State Fairgrounds concentration camp on
the edge of Jackson. Standing on Farish Street, Medgar Evers and I
watched this display of the highest courage and the essence of
rank brutality, and Medgar -- a veteran of the late War's European
theatre -- commented,
"Just like Nazi Germany."
The Jackson Movement fought on through increasing drama and
bloodshed. In the end, it cracked Jackson and sent deep fissures across
the entire state. It played a key role in sparking comparable efforts in
the Southern region -- and, very well publicized, it did a tremendous
amount indeed to breach the "Cotton Curtain" and bring Dixie's version
of racist totalitarianism to the attention of the nation and world.
Cleveland, like all of us, was always very supportive of Jim
Meredith, whose entrance into Ole Miss as the first Black to crack
Mississippi's rigidly segregated multi-level educational system came at
the end of September 1962. That signal Happening was accompanied by
massive racist demonstrations at Jackson itself, a destructive and
lethal White riot at the Oxford-based University -- well to the north of
Jackson -- involving at least many hundreds of White Mississippians and
sympathetic racists from across the South, and more Federal and
Federalized National Guard troops [with U.S. Marshals] than General
Washington had commanded during the Revolutionary War.
But, after Meredith, always heavily guarded by Federals, was
finally installed at Ole Miss, Cleveland told me, wistfully, "I wanted
to be the first Negro into Ole Miss."
And I told him, "You'll get there."
And he did. He was a very, very early indeed Black student into
that citadel -- his entrance, though marked by tension, outwardly
routine.
In 1979, he was a professor of Black Studies at Ole Miss. A
large civil rights retrospective conference sponsored by Tougaloo and
previously all-White Millsaps College at Jackson, was scheduled and I
was one of a number of featured speakers. Cleveland asked me if
I'd come to Ole Miss and speak to the Black students and any interested
others. John, oldest son, and I came from the Navajo Nation in our big
yellow Chev pickup [with New Mexico plates]. Cleveland, meeting us at
our Oxford motel, escorted us to the meeting. There were, by that
time, several hundred Black students at the University and, in addition
to his personal sponsorship, the very large and enthusiastic meeting was
under the auspices of the Black Student Union. Some interested
non-Blacks, mostly Mississippians, were there as well.
Cleveland and I have always kept in touch. And when we talked
for so long last night -- traveling back and forth through personal and
Movement epochs and contemporary challenges -- we were, frequently and
somehow still, the high school kid with the philosophy interests and the
new-to-Mississippi agitator from Northern Arizona.
So, as the rain came down in Idaho, we covered a lot of time and
turf.
We didn't say a word about Michael Jackson.
In the mountains of Eastern Idaho
Nialetch/Onen
Hunter [Hunter Bear]
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR] Mi'kmaq
/St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Protected by NaŽshdoŽiŽbaŽiŽ
and Ohkwari'
THE LOST PROFESSOR [BUT NO LIFE REGRETS]
HUNTER BEAR NOVEMBER 11 2009
NOTE BY HUNTER BEAR / HUNTER GRAY / JOHN R
SALTER JR: [NOVEMBER 11 2009]
Our grandson/son, Thomas, is here in Idaho for a very
pleasant visit. He, of course, received his M.D. degree from the University of
Minnesota last May and is presently doing his residency at the University of
Iowa hospital -- with a focus on internal medicine and psychiatry. We were
visiting about diverse matters, and got off into a brief discussion on ancient,
traditional, and very vital to this moment Iroquois dream analysis. That, for
those unaware, is an extremely intricate art -- involving, among other things,
profound symbolic interpretation. "Western" practitioners of psychoanalysis have
long been impressed.
I mentioned a recurrent dream of mine which, until a few weeks ago, appeared off
and on for some years. In it, I'm in an unnamed university setting, searching
desperately for the room in which my students are patiently waiting. And time is
running out. I try here, I try there. Fruitlessly. And then the dream ends. This
interesting pattern continued until, a couple of months ago, I found the room!
And in the room were my students. And, seamlessly, I began my lecture, sparking
good questions.
And then I awakened.
The meaning of these episodes, obviously tinged with a bit of pathos, has been
clear from the beginning. Thomas had no problem agreeing with the travail of the
"lost" professor. Wherever I have taught, I've always liked virtually every
student I've had -- and it's been, I can say with no false modesty, mutual.
For decades, I've consistently described my primary vocation as a "social
justice organizer." But, at the same time, even while pursuing that, I have
taught for many years [and in a number of disciplines] in higher education --
about 30 years, mostly full-time [and usually summer sessions as well.] As I've
written earlier: "Sometimes it's been full-time organizing and part-time
teaching; or full-time teaching and full-time organizing; or simply organizing
[which can be double-duty work in its own right!] I've worked with grassroots
people from all sorts of ethnic and cultural backgrounds in militant and
democratic organizations and movements."
But let me be very, very clear at this point: I -- and my good spouse of almost
half a century, Eldri -- and our whole family have absolutely no regrets
whatsoever about the always challenging Trail we've been on. And we will never
regret a moment of it.
Almost immediately at our arrival here in Pocatello, Idaho -- mid-summer of 1997
-- it was clear that my reputation as a "radical" had preceded us: police
surveillance [initially blatant], weird telephone experiences, extraordinary
postal mail delays. And when we embraced the computer faith on December 12 1998,
problems began which, as I've earlier noted, proceeded from the then-Clinton
administration into the Bush period and now -- without a ripple -- into the
Obama epoch. The basics are here:
http://hunterbear.org/duel_in_the_shadows.htm
Much of this was exported and imported via the University of North Dakota and
some collaterals where I had taught for 13 years -- in an atmosphere of
increasingly poisonous hostility from much of the administration and some
"colleagues." [Students, as always, were just fine.] At the time I left
UND, I was a full professor, former departmental head [American Indian Studies],
former chair of Honors, a member of the graduate faculty. Some of that flavor is
well said by Professor Brian Rice, Mohawk:
. . .this appropriate contemporary note by Brian Rice [Mohawk], Canada:
"I was happy to have received a nice review from Hunter for my book. He was one
of the old school Native Studies Professors who were as much or more activists
than they were simply scholars. This included people like Art Solomon and others
who were defining what Native Studies should be about in the late 60's and early
70's. A lot of them disassociated themselves from programs such these, not
liking the direction they were heading in. People like Hunter were vilified by
Anthropologists who believed Native Studies wasn't academic enough. In other
words, they should be the ones teaching Native Studies. Many of these types such
as at the University of North Dakota where Hunter taught, now run the programs.
There are very few social activists left in the discipline who are involved in
prison reform and such." [Brian Rice]
[See also
http://www.hunterbear.org/UND.htm ]
A major piece of the situation here in Idaho involves an obvious [but not
completely successful] attempt to blacklist me throughout the region. A very
early effort of mine to secure part-time teaching at locally-based Idaho State
University was quickly rebuffed [no reason given] and now, more than 12 years
later, I have yet to speak anywhere on its campus in any capacity. [I have quite
successfully spoken in other settings in our general region, some actually very
"mainstream."] A few years ago, the hospital in our setting scheduled a
Martin Luther King Day talk by me and, since it's right across the street from a
portion of Idaho State, its organizers reasonably enough felt that the
University might be interested as co-sponsor. And ISU, at its lower echelons,
was enthusiastic; and all proceeded well for a few planning weeks -- Until! --
until the matter got into the school's upper stratosphere.
And then ISU backed out. Pressed for an explanation, one of the initial ISU
staff enthusiasts indicated I was felt to be "too radical." [The hospital
carried its commitment right along -- and our meeting was most successful.]
Well, I am -- I suppose -- radical. I'm certainly committed to a full measure of
social justice for all. I'm not a preacher but I do tell, in the traditions of
Native America and the rural Southwest as well, very interesting stories that
have a justice point. And students, whatever their particular background and
perspective, always appreciate those much.
Here's a slice from the great days at Tougaloo:
This short excerpt which follows is from an oral history done by a former
Tougaloo student of mine -- and a very noteworthy freedom fighter through all of
these decades: Lawrence "Larry" Guyot. Originally from Pass Christian,
Mississippi, Mr. Guyot took many of my Tougaloo classes -- I gave him a book of
speeches by Clarence Darrow -- and he went on to play a major role in the
Southern Movement and later in the broad human rights arena in the North. He
completed law school and has resided for the last many years in Washington, D.C.
Here, he captures the Freedom Spirit of Tougaloo College in the early '60s. This
particular oral history of Lawrence Guyot's was done by University of Southern
Mississippi. [H.]
"And I met--there was a brilliant compilation of very freedom-oriented, very
well-educated faculty at Tougaloo. John Salter was there. He was teaching as
much socialism as he was history. He later--I worked with him on a lot of
things. He later wrote a great book called Jackson, MS and was very involved in
those demonstrations. Worked very closely with Medgar Evers. The ability of that
faculty to bring out the best instincts of freedom and liberty and justice was
uncanny. I mean, I believe that if Tougaloo--Tougaloo was an oasis for academic
excellence and individual and collective liberation. "
Well, ISU ain't Tougaloo by a long, long stretch. [Several of our younger family
members have gotten good basic educations at ISU -- there are capable people
there -- but they've gotten their social justice from our Family.]
And, I'm not quite like the Boll Weevil -- "just 'lookin' for a home, just
lookin' for a place to stay." We have a good house 'way far up on the western
edge of Pocatello, a very close stone's throw indeed to USFS and BLM wild lands.
Nice neighbors, many friends.
And I do try to keep busy: discussion lists, our massive website [and we may
launch another as well], other writing, much correspondence, do what we can
social justice-wise, and a talk here, a talk there.
But I miss students.
And I am getting very, very restless.
The stirring of my Native blood, the "Call of the Far Away Hills."
In the Mountains of Eastern Idaho -
Nialetch/Onen
Hunter Gray [Hunter Bear]
FOLLOW UP: THE LOST PROFESSOR
[HUNTER GRAY]
John Salter writes on RBB -- really very
tongue-in-cheek;
I regret that you never took that management job
with Bell, so that we'd have more money when (if?) you die.
____________________________________________
First, I am NOT going to die. [I appreciate the
"if" in John's sentence.]
When I got out of the Army at the beginning of
'55, having served a full hitch and just turning 21, very nice close
relatives on my mother's side were willing to assist me in attending the
Wharton School of Business at University of Pennsylvania. I declined
politely. The Wharton School was already turning into a Phelps-Dodge think
tank [which it still is.] I also declined a fraternity membership at
University of Arizona.
In the spring of 1968, Pacific Northwest Bell
Telephone [Washington, Oregon, Idaho] joined with Communications Workers of
America to set up a large scale minority hiring and training program. They
badly needed an experienced race relations and down-to-earth consultant --
who was also a lucid teacher -- and they approached me. I accepted, helped
design the program [there were a number of good people in on that part],
and I personally conducted several months of consecutive 2-day training
sessions which embraced Bell management and staff at all levels. I started
with the board itself, headed by Tom Bolger [who later became head of AT&T]
and went down through the ranks to first-line supervisors. And I covered
many union people.
This went extremely well. Twice as this odyssey
proceeded, I was offered a solid management position with PNB. Each time I
politely declined. When the job was done, I was given a great going-away
party at Bell -- and a new state-of-the-art Polaroid camera. We left for Coe
College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa where I taught for a very pleasant academic
year and where, via my course in Social Conflict, we organized all of the 31
maids and janitors [whose pay had been cut] into a solid local of AFSCME.
[Coe is a private school but that didn't matter to a good union
like State/County.] A good contract was secured. This was academic year
'68-69.
And then we left for Chicago's South/Southwest
Side and more years of grassroots organizing -- and far beyond.
No regrets. [And, btw, our Bell/CWA program was
rated as one of the 10 best in the country; Boeing was the worst.]
Privately, the big draw for some family members
isn't dinero. It's who gets what firearms of mine.
Yours,
Hunter [Hunter Bear]
WILLIAM
MACKINTIRE SALTER
[By Hunter Gray, formerly
John R. Salter, Jr. July 22, 2010]
For the 100th Anniversary of
the dedication of the home building of the New York Ethical Culture
Society. William Mackintire Salter spoke at that event on October
23, 1910.
I have been asked to provide
a short reflection on William Mackintire Salter [1853 -1931], my
adoptive grandfather. I am very pleased to do so. Now in Idaho, I
am a life long activist organizer on behalf of social justice, often
under very challenging circumstances -- and, too, a retired
university professor [sociology, urban and regional planning, Native
studies.]
Those acquainted with our
family are aware that my father, a full blooded Native American [Mi'kmaq,
St. Francis Abenaki and Mohawk] originally named Frank Gray, and
born in 1898, was adopted as a small child and partially raised by
William Mackintire Salter and Mary Gibbens Salter, prominent New
England liberals. They renamed my father John Randall Salter. [In
time, I myself returned to our "original" family name of Gray.]
William Salter, trained in
philosophy [still considered a leading authority on Nietzsche], was
a courageous and dedicated social activist on a number of critical
[and controversial] fronts over many decades. Among other things,
he was a key and enduring activist on behalf of the martyred
Haymarket anarchists and their families, a signer of the Call to
Organization of the NAACP in 1909, was active in the Indian Rights
Association and a sparkplug for what became the American Civil
Liberties Union.
He was also, of course, a
very key person and enduring stalwart on behalf of the Ethical
Culture movement.
But William Salter, old
beyond his years, was not suited for fatherhood. And Dad's adoption
was in some respects an almost train wreck. [Mary Salter was
consistently kind and loving.] A major silver lining in my father's
experience in that setting was the nearby presence of William James
-- brother-in-law of the Salters -- who lived near them at
Cambridge, Massachusetts and Chocorua, New Hampshire. William James
and his family provided an enormous amount of personal support for
my father and James encouraged what he accurately perceived as Dad's
self-developed incipient fine art abilities. William James died in
1910. My father and William Salter had visited him a day before his
passing, About three years later, Salter attempted to sign up Dad,
age 15, in the U.S. Army -- but the recruiter rejected that on
the basis of Dad's youth. Soon after that, my father left the
Salters. William Salter cut him out of his will but Mary Salter
provided a small trust fund at the State Street bank in Boston.
Some years later, the estate of William James provided the funds
that enabled Dad to secure his B.A, from the Chicago Art Institute.
Later, he secured two graduate degrees from the University of Iowa.
My father always maintained his American Indian and
tribal identities and commitment, and as a very long time artist
and professor at what became Northern Arizona University, worked for
decades on behalf of Native students and tribal nations until his
passing in 1978.
And, a few years after their
marriage in 1930, my parents wound up with all of the written works
of William Salter and those of William James, and much of the Salter
furniture.
William Salter died in 1931
and Mary Salter a couple of years thereafter. My mother, an
Anglo, was from an old American frontier family -- mostly Scottish
and Swiss. I was born in 1934 and grew up at and around Flagstaff,
Arizona. And, as I developed, my view of William Salter was, to
understate it, ambivalent. [Our view of William James, of
course, was very positive.]
But even as a
smaller kid, I'd been interested in James' writings and Salter's
social justice advocacy. When, at the beginning of 1955, and just
turning 21, I got out of the Army after a full hitch, my
intellectual horizons were broadening fast. When home on visits, I
spent a good deal of time reading in the many James and Salter books
-- which, as I've indicated, had wound up with my parents. In time,
my father suggested I take them all personally [along with all of
his adoption and related legal papers] and I did so -- and, having
survived many moves, all of those came right here with us to Idaho.
And, in time,
though not really crystallizing in full until May 2003 when I gave
the annual Founder's Day address at the Chicago Ethical Humanist
[Ethical Culture] Society -- which had been directly founded by
William Salter -- I myself quietly buried the hatchet and made my
peace with the ghost of the man whose memory had been, for us, mixed
-- and sometimes a "burning scar".
As I've written
elsewhere:
"For my interracial parents
and myself and my two younger brothers, in a small and isolated town
in Northern Arizona, the many Salter books in our
family library -- and those by William James, his father [Henry],
and his brother [Henry] which were initially given to the Salters --
were, I have come to realize, far far more important and enduring
than I had once grasped. Salter's great courage and commitment
played a key role -- along with our other activist forebears -- in
stimulating my parent's social justice endeavors in Flagstaff [a
town with considerable racial segregation including "No Indians or
Dogs Allowed" signs on many restaurant doors]."
The history of Humanity is
replete with those who, despite the vicissitudes, courageously
choose to serve their communities rather than to serve themselves.
His limitations as an adoptive parent notwithstanding, I give high
marks to William Mackintire Salter. He did not wall himself into,
and remain, in a cloistered "safe" atmosphere. He went out into the
world and challenged it to become infinitely better. As we all move
along as people -- into the perennial murkiness and dangers of an
always uncertain future where the challenges are now coming faster
and faster from the very four directions, William Mackintire Salter,
his thinking and his good works, stand as a fine and inspiring
example.
Cordially,
Hunter Gray [formerly John
Randall Salter, Jr]
Pocatello, Idaho 83204
PROMISING SPARKS: STUDENT
ACTIVISM/STUDENT PROTESTS [HUNTER BEAR/HUNTER GRAY] NOVEMBER 21 2009
Students, globally, are naturally inclined to be restive.
And student protests, e.g., against gargantuan tuition hikes in the
California university system, certainly exemplify that. And some
comparable things, activist and issue-wise though not all that
dramatic nor publicized, are going on in other college and
university settings. Student activism often ignites within the
Academy around institutionally-related issues and then expands
into other social justice arenas, locally and often nationally.
I've never underestimated the capability of higher ed students [and
sometimes even those in high school] to raise Hell -- usually,
despite some rough edges, very constructively. Nor have I felt that
the great wave of student élan within and around the Obama campaign
would dissipate once his election was assured -- and, as it's turned
out -- the colossal flaws of his administration have become
evident.
Lots of good active and potential sparks are in the winds.
In a discouraging era where much of the visible activism is
right wing populism, with Labor still relatively [and hopefully only
temporarily] quiescent, and much of the peace movement still
[despite the deteriorating Afghanistan situation] 'way too laid back
thus far, this student activism is mighty refreshing indeed. I
think we can expect some very good, "big things" in the next few
years.
And maybe far beyond.
But, as I recall my own many experiences as an activist
student, very young instructor, older professor and older activist,
youth will properly insist on leading themselves, doing their own
thing. Advice can be offered by others but they'll take it in their
own way, on their own terms.
And that's good.
Optimistically, H.
OTHER REALLY MAVERICK THOUGHTS BY HUNTER BEAR:
Listening to clips on TV about Texas Gov Rick Perry's thoughts on
Texas secession and the 10th Amendment and what-not, and then hearing
Tom Delay's somewhat strained defense while dialoging on the matter with
Chris Matthews, I couldn't help but recall the Ross Barnett era in the
Mississippi of the early '60s when such talk sounded infinitely more
sincere, and not all that unrealistic. I remember when the Magnolia
legislature took up the question of secession and chewed it over for a
day or two. In the end, it was sort of back-shelved -- not rejected --
primarily because so many of the Big Mules [an Alabama term], such as
plantation man and U.S, Senator Jim Eastland were drawing heavy Federal
agricultural subsidies.
Those were also the days when the [White] Citizens Council leaders,
vacationing abroad, almost always went to the Union of South Africa.
In any event, Ole Ross orated far more fervently and convincingly on
all of this stuff than these Texas pretenders. He was, after all, a bona
fide true believer.
Long, long ago I realized that I, myself, have always been shaped by
two broad and basic and distinctive currents: a complex blend of
several Native tribal cultures -- and another river made up of a number
of component strains emanating from the Real Rural American Southwest. [
If those two basic currents find themselves in opposition on some point
or another -- and they do from time to time -- I always go, of course,
with the Indians.]
The Southwestern complex within me can produce some interesting, well
-- tendencies. A Mississippi journalist, not really a foe but not a
friend either, very curious about my "value set", engaged me once in a
long conversation. It concluded in a truly amiable fashion. "You
know," he said, "There's something about you that makes me think that
you're really a Mississippi boy at heart." He couldn't understand it
quite, nor could I. But I couldn't brush his assessment aside. I
didn't, however, let on to him that, absent the slavery issue [which
could never, of course, be "absented"] , I've always thought, deep in
the recesses of my soul, that the Southern Confederacy had the better
case when it came to the matter of secession. I could have also told
him that, again deep in the recesses of my soul, I thought the Articles
of Confederation made more sense than the Federalist/Federalism set-up.
I'm sure my Magnolia conversationalist would have embraced those
heretical tendencies of mine -- which, though not exactly quarantined
"'way down in", are kept somewhat corralled -- somewhat.
Those were topics, however, with which my good old courageous lawyer
friend, the late Dixon Pyles of Jackson, and I used to toss back and
forth in an atmosphere of mutual empathy at his law office on Pearl
Street. When we'd exhausted, for the moment, those matters, we turned
to our mutual admiration for the military strategies of Jenghiz Khan and
his legion. John remembers, I'm sure, some of those rich discussions --
which always returned, of course, to the perennial challenges of
Mississippi.
Once, while we were living for several years on the sovereign Navajo
Nation, I received a very strange -- but intriguing -- letter from a guy
located in another Western state. I had never heard of him but, some
way, he knew a little of me. With no racial connotations but an obvious
bent toward his unique perception of freedom, he had a not badly drawn
up proposal for the secession of the Western states. His boundaries
included the Great Plains region -- but split Texas down the middle. He
excluded California -- but wondered if, maybe, the northern third should
be included. [If I'd gone with him, I'd have agreed to that as well as
eastern California generally. I would have insisted, of course, on
guarantees of full sovereignty and reparations for all of the Indian
nations involved.]
But, in the end, despite the stirrings down in the recesses of my
soul, I didn't respond. But when I occasionally think of the projected
venture, I think of a kind of mirage.
And it does glitter, 'way off yonder.
Yours,
Hunter [Hunter Bear]
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR] Mi'kmaq
/St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Protected by NaŽshdoŽiŽbaŽiŽ
and Ohkwari'
A LETTER TO YOUNG RADICALS
[HUNTER GRAY / HUNTER BEAR]
This has been much reprinted --
most recently in Oregon Socialist. [2009]
One of the more brightening things
in life is interacting with young people. This is a very recent early
morning letter of mine to a sharp, young radical with a developing
local group. I'm responding to a number of good questions. I've removed
any identifying names and have otherwise edited it slightly.] 12/20/00
Again, very good to hear from you. It
certainly sounds like
you and your colleagues are off to a promising start. My basic advice with
respect to a group would be to "hang loose," avoid rigidity (this can keep
people away), take your time in developing an affiliation with a national
organization. On that score, you're "shopping around" and that makes good
sense. There are many very good national groups -- none of them especially
large at this point -- but certainly honorable and committed. Some of them
have specific youth groups within and around their basic structure. Again,
taking your time and shopping around makes very good sense. And there's
nothing wrong with being "independent," either.
Local issues are always extremely important -- both to the "cause" in the
sense of serving Humanity and, in close and obvious conjunction with that,
stimulating the positive growth of your group. You can give the local
issues your basic philosophical/ideological thrust -- but you don't want to
lay the ideology on too thickly. Blend it in in creative and effective
ways.
In the "old days," a developing radical newspaper was done on mimeograph
machines: messy ink, breakdowns, etc. Now, xerox approaches make it much,
much easier -- cleaner, faster and essentially less expensive. A developing
paper should, as a I mentioned a moment ago, focus primarily on local
issues -- with your ideological viewpoint blended in creatively,
effectively. You can also have a piece or two dealing directly with the
"bigger picture:" national and/or world events -- or even, going "over the
mountains yonder," to the utopian goal you envision.
It's critical, with any paper, to avoid packing it too full of things. The
stories should not be overly long, must be well written (good organization
and grammar), and, in my opinion, should avoid profanity -- at least the
crude stuff. While dealing with issues, it's always good to avoid really
personal attacks on adversaries -- tempting as those sometimes are! [Always
try to take the High Road.] The paper should have a small,
working committee
and an editor who can edit -- do rewrite, if necessary. A general image of
neatness -- adequate margins, etc -- is critical. The paper should come out
with fairly predictable regularity.
Don't worry about religion or the lack of it. I'd view it as a
personal
thing. Marx was (is) charting general directions. "Opiate," as I've
understood it, meant to him the machiavellian use of religion to dull the
concerns and block the action of the people. Like I think he was shooting
at the oppressive Church: e.g., the Church in pre-Revolutionary Mexico or
Russia -- and many other places, then and often now. On the other hand: the
very indigenous and radical American movement, the old Industrial Workers of
the
World (Wobblies), while attacking the misuse of religion as "pie in the
sky", always viewed religion as a purely personal matter -- and many of the
IWW members were believers of one kind or another. Others were agnostics --
simply saying they had no basic position one way or the other. And others
atheists. A fine old union in which I was deeply involved -- International
Union of Mine, Mill and Smelter Workers -- was very radical in traditions
and certainly had a radical leadership. Most of the Mine-Mill members in
the West were church members: frequently Catholic, often Mormon. In
Alabama,
the Mine-Mill members were frequently Black, and Baptists or Methodists.
Again, a personal thing. The Southern Civil Rights Movement of the '50s and
'60s had very substantial radical dimensions -- and was also explicitly
religious for the most part! Liberation Theology in, say, Latin America
today, blends Marxism and Marxist-Leninism with radical Christian thought.
One of the very best American radical films is "Salt of the
Earth" -- made
by my old union (Mine-Mill) back in the mid-1950s. Based on a very long and
bitter zinc miners' strike in southwestern New Mexico, it deals very
effectively -- using a somewhat fictionalized approach but sticking to the
essential historical facts -- with worker issues, minority issues (most of
the strikers were Mexican-American), and women issues (women took over the
picket line -- and the strike was won -- after a court injunction was issued
against the Union itself.) Salt won many awards -- including some of the
very top international film awards -- but, for many many years, was
blacklisted in this country and is often termed, "the only U.S. blacklisted
film." It's a genuine work of art, can't be found at a video store, but can
be easily gotten now on line for a little more than $20.00. It's one
of the finest organizing/educative films. I've used it several hundred
times.
The best single piece of advice I ever got on radical matters
came from an
old friend, the veteran IWW (Wobbly) editor, Fred Thompson -- a great guy.
I was hot-eyed, just barely into my twenties, a developing organizer and
doing, also, a lot of radical writing. To me, Fred said, "To be really
radical, you don't have to rant and rave. Just describe accurately the
massive injustice that exists all around you and sensibly discuss basic
curative approaches and solutions." I pass that along with a tip of my
Stetson hat to Fred (who died at almost 90, in 1987.)
Again, certainly good to hear from you. You all are off and rolling.
By all means, keep in touch.
Fraternally/In Solidarity --
Hunter Gray [Hunter Bear]
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR]
Mi'kmaq /St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Protected by NaŽshdoŽiŽbaŽiŽ
and Ohkwari'