S5: The Potlatch Ban

If you want to hear daily news that doesn't hurt your soul and might even be good for your soul, check out As It Happens. I'm Chris Howden. And I'm Neil Kochsal. Every day we reach people at the center of the most extraordinary stories, like the doctor, who restored a patient's eyesight with a tooth. Or a musician in an orchestra that plays instruments made out of vegetables. Take the scenic route through the day's news with As It Happens, and you can find us wherever you get your podcasts. This is a CBC Podcast. It's true, it's true. But today we're going to get into the details of the ban and also its legacy, because the story of the ban is not just about the First Nations people who lived under it. It's also about their children and their grandchildren, and what steps those next generations took to not only reclaim their cultural practices, but also their things. You know, many potlatch items like masks and robes ended up around the world in the hands of collectors and museums. Yeah, and many different First Nations people on the coast were affected by this ban. There's one story that sticks out to me about this really notable potlatch that was held in 1921 during the ban, and the people that attended were arrested and had many ceremonial items confiscated by the government. Well, funny that you mentioned that, because that potlatch was held by a man named Chief Dan Cramner. And to understand what exactly happened at that now infamous potlatch in 1921, I reached out to someone who knew more. Okay, so who did you end up talking to? Well, I was lucky enough to speak with Dan Cramner's son, Bill. Hello. Hello, is this Bill? This is Bill. Hey Bill, this is Leah from CBC. All right, just a minute, I'll go and turn the TV down. Okay. Hello, my name is Bill Crammer. (Speaks in Spanish) One of the Chiefs of the Namqis. Also, (Speaks in Spanish) Copper maker, which is a name that was given to me by my great uncle. When we had our potlatch a while ago, so I wanted the speakers also at the potlatch ceremonies. And 84 years old, I'll be 85 this year, I'm getting on, getting on in age. Wow, 84, that's amazing that he gave you the time. If I was 84, I don't think I'd give you the time. I wouldn't answer, I would not answer. No, but Bill is very generous with his time, and he's the Chair of the Board at the Umista Cultural Center in Alert Bay. And the mandate of the center is to ensure the survival of the cultural heritage of the Kwakwakwiak. Right, and the Kwakwakwiak are a people who speak the Kwakwala language, but are made up of 18 different tribes. Yes, and so to start at the beginning, Chief Crammer explained that for his people, a potlatch ceremony can be held for a variety of purposes. There are memorial ceremonies where we remember loved ones that have gone past, and there are different ceremonies for children coming of age of young ladies. So yeah, it was what guided us in those days, and how our Chief would work for the people, share whatever he could with the people, and of course, in those early days, the people that came to our lands said, "It's not normal for people to start giving things away, people normally charge for those kind of things." So capitalism, I'm blaming capitalism, it's essentially to blame for this. I think we can assume that the men in charge at this time were never made to share in preschool, or maybe ever didn't get it. Yes, capitalism and the Indian Act. Yes, yes, the Indian Act is when all of this started. Yeah, 10 years after Canada became a country, the Indian Act became federal law in 1876. And the core intention of the Indian Act was to destroy First Nations cultures and lay claim to land. Right, but the Canadian government realized they left out a few tools to help them do this, so a few years later, they threw in a couple of amendments like making sure Indigenous women would lose their status if they married a non-Indigenous person and banning several ceremonies. The potlatch was the first ceremony to be banned in 1884. A year later, the government added a clause that any Indian festival, dance, or other ceremony would be included in the ban. 20 years after that, dancing outside of the reserve was banned. I'm saying that in quotes. And five years after that, they said, "You know what? Let's just ban Indigenous people from all dancing. No dancing anywhere, everyone. No dancing at all. Yeah, so. Ridiculous. I think they were intimidated by our skills. Well, right? Yeah, that's what it must be. Come on. Anyway, so this was all enforced by the RCMP and government employees called Indian agents who could fine, arrest, and jail people who ignored the law. The potlatch ban lasted close to 70 years, between 1884 and 1951. So it is very, very hard to live under that potlatch ban. And I think that's really what the early governments wanted to do, was make us dependent on them so it would be easier to separate us from our lands. And of course, what they did was they established reservations for people. But the reserves that they gave us, especially in the coast here, were very, very small. And it took away our ability to enjoy the resources in the territory, be it in trap lines or fishing stations. Multiple generations of First Nations people were subjected to this ban. Which means that many cultural practices were lost to time or had to go underground. To put it in perspective, the country went through 18 different governments during this time. The ban went in under Johnny McDonald and lasted all the way until Prime Minister Louis Saint Laurent. So picture this. The ban started in 1884. So we're talking about the year that people were sporting mudden chops and corsets and, you know, rode horses to get to a saloon so that they could listen to a piano player pluck out the big hits of the day. And then by the time the ban ended in 1951, people were driving around in cars listening to this new music called Rock and Roll. This song that you're listening to was actually one of the first in 1951. It's called Rock at 88 by Jackie Brunston. Teenage boys were slicking their hair into pompadours. Girls were wearing poodle skirts. I mean, that's because they had cars and radios and even TVs by then, you know. Yeah, and you can feel that immense time period shift. But, you know, despite the threats of prosecution during this time, many people tried to potlatch under the radar. Exactly. So halfway through this decade's long ban, Dan Kramner, who lived in Alert Bay, decides to hold this big potlatch in secret on nearby village island. According to the Umista Center, Dan Kramner said he had it there because it was close to his wife's family, but also because he thought it would be out of the sight line of Indian agents. Here's Chief Kramner explaining what happened. The potlatch in 1921 was held by my father, and it was for a special purpose, because that's how our social system was being run in those days through the laws that we had to follow in the potlatch activities. The important issues were marked by a special gathering or a potlatch feast. This particular potlatch went on for, I think it was four or five days, and every day my father gave away different gifts to different chiefs from our whole language group, which is right from Cape Mudge, Camp River, up to the north end of Vancouver Island, including the mainland in Kingcombe, Guilford, even one as far as the river's inlet people. He invited all of the chiefs to come and witness this potlatch, and according to some of the old people that shared their stories with us, it was probably one of the biggest potlatches that was ever held in our territory by one of our chiefs. Bill told me about some of the things that were given out, and they included everything from bigger items like canoes and some of the first gas-powered vessels to some smaller items like parcels of flour and even cash. And what was the purpose of this potlatch? This potlatch was actually for an agreement with his wife's family that they would end the marriage, and part of what's done is that he would, my father would repay her family for everything that they gave him when they got married, and so it was a friendly separation. So Bill told me that his father held it a day or two before Christmas in a way to prove that the potlatch wasn't that different from what, you know, Christians were doing at Christmas, you know, gift-giving, right? Yeah, and did the Indian agents bust in or how exactly did this go down? So what happened was that the Indian agents and the police didn't hear about the potlatch until after we finished Sergeant Angerman, the RCMP at that time, started questioning and he got people to tell him they were at the potlatch and if you distributed gifts, that was a fence under the potlatch law and even just being in the building was an offense under the potlatch law. So this Sergeant Angerman was interrogating people, and I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly? His name was Sergeant Angerman. Yes, I'm glad you picked up on that. I thought it was quite extraordinary myself. You can't make it up. It's a terrible superhero name. Well, it's an evil. It's like the evil. Power is anger. Yeah, his name, his full name was Sergeant Donald Angerman and remember it because unfortunately, we're going to double back to him in a bit. Angerman and, yes, his name is Angerman, it's so weird to say. Angerman and the Indian agent by the name of Halliday were the two responsible for arresting and charging 45 people. So this coercion ends and arrests? Were there other consequences? Yes, the RCMP and Indian agents told people that if their entire tribes relinquish potlatch masks and clothing and any other items, then those individuals who had been found guilty would get a suspended sentence. The people that were going to be sent to jail agreed to give up their masks. The whole community's agreed to give up their masks and other things and not potlatch anymore. And even then, there was 26, I believe, got sent to Ocala prison firm in Vancouver as a result of the potlatch. So about half of the people who were arrested were put in jail and had to give up their masks and their other items. So when Sergeant Angerman and Agent Halliday take these items on behalf of the government, where did they end up? Where did they go? Well, at first they were stored in a church hall at Alert Bay and some items were put on display and then items began getting shipped out. Okay, and did the Kwakwa Kwiak know where these items were going? Well, I think it was their understanding that the collection was going to be sent to Ottawa and it would be kept by the Indian Affairs Department and not be sold. But things were being sold by Halliday, the Indian Agent. 33 pieces were purchased by a private collector in New York. Halliday did get in trouble from his superiors for the sale, though, but he said he was trying to raise money for the First Nations people in the area. Oh, I'm sure he was. I wonder how much he made and where it went. Exactly, exactly. Other pieces were packed up and sent to what is now known as the Canadian Museum of History in Ottawa and the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. Yeah, this is not surprising yet still enraging. I know, just wait though. There's more fell in. Some pieces went into the personal collection of Duncan Campbell Scott. Sorry, I was just puking in my mouth for a second there. For those who don't know, Duncan Campbell Scott was the Deputy Superintendent of the Department of Indian Affairs, who famously said, "I want to get rid of the Indian problem, but I still want to keep their things." Yeah, look him up if you want to learn how uniquely horrible he was. But as terrible as all of this was that these potlatch items were being shipped out and given away, there was a silver lining. We're quite fortunate that before they shipped off the collection, there was a photographer that took a picture of the collection. Oh, they took pictures. Yes, and those pictures were about to be the key in bringing the potlatch collection back home. But at this time, the ban was still law. And so people waited? Yeah, they waited over a decade later until the ban was finally repealed. The first legal and public potlatch was held a year after that in 1952 by Kwakwakwiak chief Mungo Martin. And guess who else was there? Dan Kramner. Yes, Dan Kramner, correct. In half a dozen other chiefs were also invited to go to the Thunderbird Park Museum in Victoria. And Bill was also there. Here's how he remembers that historic gathering. So I remember the trip quite well. We took the spaceship from Alert Bay overnight to Vancouver and then another CPR ship from Vancouver to Victoria. And my father took me down who was by older brother and we performed in the animal dance that Mungo Martin showed for the first time since people were stopped from having our potlatches. And well, I was 15 when I went out down and it was quite a busy time. And we got to see how things were done in the early days. Once the ban was repealed, relearning and reclaiming for many coastal people who potlatch began. Let's jump forward another 10 years. Okay, sure. So this is the 60s? Yes, 1963 on the island of Haida Gwai to be exact. A crew from the National Film Board of Canada shows up to film a short documentary called "Haida Carver" which featured an artist by the name of Robert Davidson. Oh yeah, Robert Davidson. He's a world-renowned Haida artist. Yes, he is, but at this time he was just starting out. My father was 16. This is Sarah Florence Davidson, his daughter. They asked my great-grandfather and great-grandmother to sing songs. They wanted to put the songs in the video. And so my great-grandfather and great-grandmother, they called a friend over. And so the three of them just started singing these songs. And that was the first time he'd heard any Haida songs. And so when my father was born in 1946, you know, for a part of his life, he was alive during this potlatch ban. Sarah explained that this was one of the turning points for her father in beginning to reclaim Haida traditions, lost under the ban. But it didn't happen overnight. I think what's important to remember is that it's not like in 1951 everything was over and it was sort of business as usual. It took a long time and I think people were still really scared about what would happen if we went back to what were perceived to be our old ways. Sarah has written several books with her father and one specifically about the potlatch. It's called Potlatch is Pedagogy. And can you remind me what pedagogy means again? Yeah. So it means how teachers teach in both theory, you know, like the philosophy of it and practice. And the book is about the teaching and learning that can come out of the potlatch. Okay, got it. So Sarah was a classroom teacher and I worked predominantly with indigenous students and I was noticing that I was not able to meet their needs and I was really struggling. And so I thought, you know, so she approached her dad to see if he had any insights to offer because he had to leave Haida Gwai after grade 11 and move to Vancouver if he wanted to finish high school. And he did it, which was pretty remarkable at the time. Here he is explaining what happened when he moved to Vancouver for grade 12. When I left Masset in 1965 to finish high school in Vancouver, I was absolutely blown away by the art of my ancestors housed in the museum, both in the Vancouver Museum and the Museum of Anthropology at UBC to see firsthand the old masterpieces. Prior to that, I only saw carvings that were done by a silenced culture where my parents and grandparents generation were silenced in that we couldn't express cultural ideas through song and dance and through the art. And so when I saw these pieces in the museum, I was absolutely blown away by the craftsmanship. So Robert Davidson starts telling Sarah about his experiences of re-learning the old traditions through the potlatch. I felt like he was using potlatch as pedagogy. And so at the end of our conversations, he started to talk about this pole raising that had taken place in 1969. And at that point, I sort of like, oh, you know, this is a really big story. That really big story is putting it lightly. When Sarah's dad was 22, he decided to carve and raise a totem pole in his community of Masset. But raising a pole wouldn't be easy. Because of the ban, it hadn't happened in Masset in nearly a century. There are two kinds of Canadians, those who feel something when they hear this music, and those who've been missing out so far. I'm Chris Howden. And I'm Neil Cuxall. We are the co-hosts of As It Happens. And every day we speak with people at the center of the day's most hard hitting, hard breaking, and sometimes hilarious news stories. Also, we have puns. Here Why As It Happens is one of Canada's longest running and most beloved shows. You can find us wherever you get your podcasts. Okay, just to recap, young Robert Davidson goes to Vancouver, looks at Hyde Art, his people's art in museums, and it's all stuff that he's never seen before. And he gets inspired and decides that he's going to carve and raise the first totem pole in nearly a century. I was this smart alec kid, young kid coming home, thinking I was going to teach my elder something. And I got bumped in the head and realized I didn't know very much about ceremony, very much about song and dance, and the importance of song and dance and ceremony with art. So he needed help. And he told Sarah that the elders answered. And so that resulted in all of these elders gathering together to collectively remember their knowledge of what had happened and what needed to happen for a pole raising. And because none of them had been alive, they were relying on these oral stories. They still continued to gather. We talk about gathering underground. It wasn't obviously literally underground, but Christmas dinners, weddings, and so they would gather together and they would sing some of the songs, practice the dances. And if one person remembered a little bit, then the other person would remember some. And so it was sort of this collective remembering of that knowledge that had been prohibited, basically, for such a long period of time. And so it was, I want to say, a reawakening. And I mean, I think that's a way a lot of ceremonies still happen in many communities. We're still trying to come back and reclaim some of that knowledge that was lost. Yeah. And, you know, of course, Sarah told me there was still some residual fear and shame for those who had lived under the ban for so long. It wasn't that everybody was really excited at the beginning. I think that the impact of that ban, the impact of the attempts to assimilate us and have had a people look to Christianity as in putting air quotes again, replace our traditional beliefs, was really strong. And folks were really scared. And, you know, kind of, why do you want to go back to these old ways? Why are you trying to bring back the past? We need to move on. But Robert's family was really, really supportive. There's a beautiful description that he has shared of his grandfather coming at 89 years old and carving alongside him on that pole because, and that was their way of showing how much they believed in what he was doing. It took him months, but with the community's help on August 22nd, 1969, it was ready to go up. What was really lovely is that there was the opportunity to have the crane and the elders said, "No, we want to raise it in the old way." And that's what they did. From May until mid-August, Bob Davidson carved from early morning until dusk. The night before the ceremony, the pole had to be moved to the site where it would stand. This totem could never be lifted in one continuous pole. And the men beneath would not be able to support its crushing weight as it inched slowly upward. So, crossed poles were bound together to carry the weight. Every time they moved, they raised the pole at the same moment. Six or just two foot. I thought it was just going to come back down and just fall, but they never did. It just kept going up and up and up. And it just looked so nice. Wow, that is so amazing to hear that moment and knowing what was behind all of that. All of the years of having to hide and at the same time trying to make sure things were not lost, not forgotten. Yeah, and you know, Sarah told me this really poignant story about her great-grandmother and that push and pull of having to hide and preserve knowledge at the same time. There are descriptions of, you know, hiding the windows and things to be able to sing and to dance. At one of the meetings, my great-grandmother, she wanted to teach my father the galsla, which is a dance, and it required a mask. And we didn't have masks. We didn't have any left. And so she put a paper bag over her head in order to share that song and that dance with my father. And for me, that story is so powerful in terms of what she was willing to do in order to ensure that that knowledge survived. And so just like the Haida, the Kwakwakwiok were also still missing their potlatch masks. Yes, and in the 70s and 80s, a new generation would take up the fight to get back every item seized from that potlatch Dan Crammner held in 1921, including his children. Well, what did Bill tell you about that time? Well, remember he told us that some of the pictures of the collection were taken before everything got sent out? Yes. So those pictures were instrumental in piecing together where everything ended up. The community began to approach museums, private collectors, the Department of Indian Affairs, and eventually the National Museums Corporation agreed to return the items, but on the condition that the Kwakwakwiok build a facility to house the collection. Right. And for me, this is a really sticky point because, you know, they're saying you can have your things back if you take care of them in the way that we would. But the entire time that those items were in the care of say places like the British Museum or the AGO or the ROM or wherever, they weren't being treated like ceremonial items. Like those items need to be treated in a certain way. And so I just, you know, I find a bit of tension in that moment. And it makes me uncomfortable because I know we want to preserve these things so that people can learn from them and appreciate them. But it's also you're not, you know, you're not feasting them. You're not smudging them. There are things that need to happen to, you know, to our masks and to our ceremonial items to keep them to keep them alive. Yeah. So many of them, you know, we know this from so many items that have been taken from many, many cultures that they sit in basements, you know, in like lock drawers and so, yeah. But I asked Chief Kramner a bit more about the center and what Umiesta means. The Umiesta opened in 1980. In our language, umati is for something to get better. Usually the body, if you have something wrong with the body in it, umati, it got better. Umiesta means something that has gone wrong, gone away, but come back. Umiesta is something that's been made right. The Umiesta Cultural Center opened in Alert Bay and its first curator was Bill's sister, Gloria. The modern entrance gallery leads into a traditional coagulate big house, facing the waters of the bay. The curator of the museum is Gloria Krammer Webster, a coagulate anthropologist. In the future, Gloria, do you think your museum will be able to add to your collection or to serve other functions? Yes. Um, we certainly intend to work on having the rest of the potlatch collection repatriated. So this is the legacy, the ripple effects of the ban. Dan Krammer's children have worked so hard to get this collection back. Yeah, and they along with others at the Umiesta Cultural Center have done an amazing job at repatriating the items and finding out what ended up where. Bill explained that some museums were better than others in relinquishing items. The people that worked at the National Museum were very, very good to work with. But other ones were not so much. The Museum of the American Indian were very hesitant to give anything back. I know I went to look at the collection that they had and most of it was in storage in New York and they finally agreed to return most of the collection. There's still the odd piece there that we want back. They still have things. I mean, I expect this from some museums, but not the Museum of the American Indian. I love that museum. Yeah, it's mind-boggling. But, you know, also where some of the things came from was a headshake. Bill mentioned that through research, they realized a mass that was in that museum was sold to that museum by a Mrs. Angerman. Oh, we're back at old Serge Angerman. Yes. Serge Angerman's wife, actually. When he died, his wife sold the mass that he had, I guess, in his house. So that's the other question of how the hell did he get it? And we never ever got an answer for that. He just, he must have just grabbed it. Well, isn't that convenient? I know. Terrible, right? I mean, they had a lot of masks and items that were sold to them by a collector. Let's just call him George for these purposes. All right. And George sold other parts of the potlatch collection, which meant that eventually a beautiful transformation mask ended up in London in the British Museum. Oh, the British Museum. What a trip it is to go to the British Museum. I know, I know. But it was actually Gloria Cramner that figured out that the mask was at the British Museum. And by the '90s, because now we're in the '90s, like this is how long this is all taking, they started sending requests to get the mask back. And how did that go? I'm sorry. Try to sound genuine here. Well, at first, this is not going to be a huge surprise to you, but at first not great. Here's a bit of a 2002 interview that CBC reporter Alan Waterman did with a spokesperson for the British Museum. Most of these masks went to Ottawa. Some were illegally sold to private collectors. The numb-glease have had virtually all the masks returned. They're now on display in this Alert Bay Museum. But not this one. It's a sun mask, a so-called transformation mask. The British Museum has it and is not about to give it back. Why? Because the rules under which the museum operates are ones that prevent the trustees from alienating any object in the collections. In the almost 60 years the museum has had the mask, it's only been on display once. Even now we can't show it to you, it's in deep storage until 2005. Still, the museum argues for the sake of scholarly study, the mask is better off in London than Alert Bay. We would argue that we hold these collections on behalf of a wider constituency. We are in the business very much of kind of proselytizing, if you like, of championing people who've been ignored. The British Museum says it's possible the mask could be temporarily loaned to Alert Bay. The numb-glease wonder how they can be loaned something that's already theirs. Alan Waterman, CBC News, Vancouver. Oh, Mike, drop Alan Waterman. Right? Alan was like, you are all ridiculous British Museum people. Yeah, he was telling them. But is it still there? Leah, I'm just wondering, do we need to fly to London right now, buy balaclavas, and pull off a museum heist? You know, I would love a museum heist, and I would totally do that, but there is no need. In 2003, through major persistence, the director of Umisto, a woman named Andrea Sanborn, finally got a meeting with the British Museum with help from the Canadian High Commission, and the museum did agree to give back the transformation mask. Okay, amazing. On a long-term loan. Wait, what? I know, I had many questions about this, and Chief Cramminer explained it to me. British Museum is one of the organizations that have been very supportive of what we're doing, and they managed to, because by British law, it's against the law for them to return anything to anybody. And so they had to figure out a way of getting this transformation back to us and not break the law. And so they did that, of course, by having a renewable loan. So under law, the British Museum is not allowed to give back things even when they know the objects have been stolen. How very British. It's very British. Yeah, it would be illegal for them to do this under British law, so hence the long-term loan of it all. Okay, but it's home. That's the main thing, right? Yes, it is home. Finally in 2005, the transformation mask came home to Alert Bay. So it's been over 70 years since the ban. Yeah, and the potlatch has come back thanks to elders who passed down what they knew. It's how Robert Davidson carved that poll back in 1969, and why he began to hold potlatches. Robert Davidson's totem poles may stand at total ease next to the great masters in New York, but ultimately it's here that the artist feels most at home. At the Massett Community Hall, 700 people cap off the ceremony welcoming back the salmon with a feast given by Robert Davidson. Over the years, he has given numerous feasts and potlatches for his people. He considers these events equivalent to works of art. I don't have an expression. The world is as sharp as the edge of a knife. What that means to me is if you made that edge of a knife into a circle, and that edge of the knife is the present, the present moment, and inside the circle is experience and the past, and outside the circle is the future yet to be experienced. The role of the artist is to expand that circle. Sarah told me that she learned a lot by going with her dad to those potlatches, and through the potlatch, she also feels hope for the next generation. I was at dance practice last Saturday, and we were singing a song, and one of the dancers brought her granddaughter, and it was just so, so exciting to see her granddaughter singing and dancing, because there is this reassurance that, you know, the government didn't win. We're still here, and what I've often said is, you know, we're living our culture now, and we're not just trying to remember it, we're not piecing it together. We are living it, and her granddaughter was evidence of that, that it will continue. That's lovely. What about Bill? Well, Bill still works with the Umista Center, you know, he's the board chair, and he's still researching to find out more about his people's history. When I spoke to him, he told me he spent a week in Philadelphia at an enormous archive that his father had contributed to in the 1940s. I was down there, I didn't even put a dent in what I wanted to learn. I was there every day for a week. So, he's still curious, still wanting to learn, that's really inspiring. I know, very inspiring, and I asked him why at age 84, when, you know, he's done so much work already, why he's still at it, and his answer was pretty simple. Of course, the reason that we're doing all this is we want to continue on with our history, continue on with our language, continue on with enjoying the territory that we come from. This episode of The Secret Life of Canada was written and produced by me, Lea Simone Bowen, and me, Phalen Johnson. Eunice Kim is the producer, editing and sound design by Graham MacDonald. Script editing is by Yvette Nolan with research assistants by Andrea Eidinger and CBC Archives. Special thank you to the Umista Cultural Center. Roshni Nair is the digital producer, and executive producers are Cecil Fernandez and Chris Oak. R.F. Narani is the director of CBC Podcasts. Our logo is by Badawogan Illustration and Design. You can find us at our website and socials. Our email is [email protected]. Rate and review us wherever you listen. It really helps other people find the show. Thanks for exploring Canada's hidden history with us.