Alcatraz occupation: 30 years later
Story and photo essay by Wishelle Banks, Outpost staff
Click here to read the Indians of All Tribes' 1969 proclamation
(SAN FRANCISCO) -- They left the city from Pier 41 in the
thick Saturday morning fog, passing slumbering seals and
cutting a swift path through the water toward
Alcatraz
Island. The Rock. A living legend, symbolically in
decay.
Outpost reporter
Wishelle Banks, right, traveled to San Francisco to
cover the 30th anniversary of the occupation of
Alcatraz. To view a photo essay of the event, click
this photo.
Photos by Wishelle Banks.
Boat after boat, bringing hundreds of people to the 30th anniversary of the 1969 occupation of Alcatraz. Not just Native Americans, but supporters of many diverse backgrounds returned on Oct. 23 to pay their respects, to talk about the state of Native Nations and to remember.
"I came here to see old friends," said Ed Castillo, a Cahuilla-Luiseno activist from northern California. "I was a UCLA professor when this occurred. They made me chief of security. I probably weighed about 140 pounds," he recalled with a laugh, saying his particular assignment was to ensure that there was no drug or alcohol consumption at Alcatraz, the famous former prison. "I got up off the ground about an hour later and realized I wasn't qualified for the job."
That was then--this is now. And during this auspicious day on the island, there was a definitive air of reunion, healing and spirit. It was somewhat of a contrast than the 35 or so people who gathered at Alcatraz in 1997 for ceremonies commemorating the 27th anniversary of the 19-month-long occupation. The mood this year was more relaxed, peaceful and very much a celebration of Native American culture.
Anishinaabe activist Adam Fortunate Eagle, who played a pivotal role in the taking of The Rock, and later wrote "Alcatraz! Alcatraz! The Indian Occupation of 1969-1971" (Heyday Books, 1992), held the pipe and spoke to the crowd.
"This land has become a symbol of Indian resistance," Fortunate Eagle told the crowd, then asked that the circle be widened to allow an inner circle to honor the men and women who had been part of the occupation 30 years ago.
"Veterans of Alcatraz--please come and take your place in the circle," he called. "Many people who were here during that 19 months are no longer with us; who are dancing and singing, participating on this island in a good way. And so today, at this very moment, we will honor the memory of those many, many tribes. When we organized this event in 1968 we were determined to make (it) an Indian movement, and so we picked a name that would be suitable for all Indigenous and Native people. We called ourselves 'Indians of All Tribes.' And that's what we are today in this Sacred Circle. We are Indians of all tribes, coming together in a good way to honor those who have endured and suffered so much so that we could see the kind of country we have today.
"If we had not ended the termination policy on July 8, 1970, there would be no reservations today, there would be no treaties today," Fortunate Eagle continued. "There would be no BIA today. There would be no Indian gaming today--because of what our people sacrificed right here on this island 30 years ago. It is an honor for all of them, and we honor their spirits today. So never, ever forget this place, and let's never forget the people who made it possible and who made it happen."
One of those people is Millie Ketcheshawno, a Muskogee Creek activist and filmmaker. She and her partners in Diamond Island Productions produced the documentary film "Alcatraz is Not an Island," the world premiere of which is Friday, Nov. 12 at the 24th Annual American Indian Film Festival in San Francisco.
In 1969, Ketcheshawno was part of the Indians of All Tribes, an organization that unfolded along with the drama. It was a headline that captured America's attention--and one that people still remember.
What they've forgotten, Ketcheshawno said, is the fact that it was the Indians of All Tribes--not the American Indian Movement--who declared and reclaimed Alcatraz as Indian land.
"AIM wasn't here 30 years ago," she explained. "We have to really correct that ... because AIM was not part of this movement at all. It was the community members here in the Bay area and the students from the different local colleges ... that took the island."
Ketcheshawno turned to one of the day's emcees, AIM cofounder Dennis J. Banks--who vouched for that.
"AIM had already been formed since '68, and (AIM cofounder) George Mitchell called me early in the morning and he asked me if I'd read the paper yet, and I said no. 'Read it,' he says. Within three or four days, we got a delegation of about 30 people together, and we came out here.
"Alcatraz kind of solidified the movement across the country--not just the American Indian Movement, but all Native organizations who were struggling someplace," Banks said. "It brought about a solidification. Alcatraz was a land recovery. That was the most important statement. AIM was involved with a lot of street demonstrations, but here was a land struggle, the issue of land, the takeover of land, the recovery of land, the recapturing of land that was taken from Native people."
Thirty years later--on Alcatraz, near a tipi with San Francisco as the metropolitan backdrop--Native artists John Trudell, Ulali, Arigon Starr, Charlie Hill and Gayle Hanson-Johnson took to the stage and provided the day's entertainment. The strong Native voices of activist/author Winona LaDuke, award-winning filmmaker Peter Bratt and the eloquent, elegant Narragansett leader Tall Oak were just some of the faces in the crowd. Even Woodstock cohost Wavy Gravy, that Merry Prankster, was there.
San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown--one of the dignitaries on a guest list that included former Cherokee Chief Wilma Mankiller and former California Gov. Jerry Brown--did not attend, but earlier that morning, the City of San Francisco informally delivered a proclamation and gave the Indians of All Tribes the coveted key to the city.
When Oneida comedian Charlie Hill saw the key he just couldn't help himself.
"They're still givin' us trinkets," he quipped.
Then later, when Indians of All Tribes member Robert Free was onstage speaking about injustice, he thrust his hand into his pocket, held up the key and hurled it toward the Pacific Ocean.
And on The Rock--like The Rock--Indian resistance remained.
Posted Nov. 5, 1999
Copyright 1999 Nevada Outpost
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