Sarah Conrad of Eagle Creek
Bonus Chapter: Words
September 14, 1901
Larry Hall was sullen as he walked from the depot. His mind was filled with dire thoughts. He approached the Eagle Creek School with much trepidation. When he opened the door to the new building he could hear the sounds of people arguing in the office of his wife Janet, the principle. Eight angry parents stood in the small room. Janet felt trapped behind her desk.
“It is not my fault!” Janet flailed her arms as she spoke. “Sheridan County will not give this school accreditation if we have no standardized method of finding out what your kids know!”
She struggled to maintain her composure. “Yes, this is Saturday! Yes, they should be home! Yes, Mayor Tallard should have taken care of this situation two weeks ago but he’s been busy with his wife in the hospital in River City. On Monday, at exactly 9:00 am, in Plentywood, the children of Eagle Creek must have some proof that they can add ‘one plus one’ and point out Montana on a map! If we do not present that proof then the diplomas we hand out in May will be meaningless.”
“How can you build a new school building, fill it with books and desks and then…?”
Larry Hall grew tired of the commotion. “Everybody hush up.”
Jim McCoy stood his ground. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers and this woman is….”
Larry Hall ignored him and read aloud from a telegram. “Date: September 14, 1901. To: All stations of the Northern Pacific Transportation Corporation. From: Home Office, Pierre, South Dakota. Be advised that there will be limited train service between major hubs during the next few days to mourn the….”
He stopped speaking. He was too upset.
Everyone in the small office became silent. They knew what was coming next.
“Sweetheart,” he said to his wife. “As a member of the Eagle Creek School Board, I am declaring an emergency and ordering that an assembly take place in front of the schoolhouse in fifteen minutes. I’ll go spread the word around. I think the whole town should be together to hear this message.”
Janet wiped her tears away. She stood up and went to the four classrooms to tell the teachers.
Fifteen minutes later, a couple of hundred people stood outside the schoolhouse. Larry Hall volunteered to speak since Mayor Tallard was in River City. He stood on a wagon.
“I guess… um… I guess we should’ve expected this news. However, that expectation certainly does not make things any easier.” He wiped the tears from his face.
“I’m not an orator of any skill. We got Preacher Baker and Reverend Gil here; I’ll have them speak after a bit. Doris tells me that Reverend Litchfield is in Quincy today visiting his brother.”
He cleared his throat. “I went down to the train depot a few minutes ago to make sure I had enough pallets for a lumber delivery tonight. And, and, that was the… most important thing I was going to do today until I saw the station master, Connor Douglas sitting in his office there, crying his eyes out.”
He shook his head. “I’ll just go ahead and read the telegram.”
A hush came over the crowd.
“Date: September 14, 1901.
To: All stations of the Northern Pacific Transportation Corporation.
From: Home Office, Pierre, South Dakota.
Be advised that there will be limited train service between major hubs during the next few days to mourn the passing of President William McKinley who, this morning, succumbed to bullet wounds he had suffered on September 6, 1901. Vice-President Theodore Roosevelt will take the oath of office later today to become the twenty-sixth President of the United States of America.
Until further notice, all inter-modal routes will be for official government purposes only unless directed otherwise by your regional supervisor.
May God be with our new Commander-In-Chief. May God comfort the widow McKinley. May God have mercy on us all.”
He dropped the telegram to his side.
Most everyone was crying or hugging their family members.
A voice came from the crowd. “Why would someone want to kill the president?”
“I dunno, Joe.” Larry said as he scratched his head. “The River City Star said the man was an anarchist, they don’t believe in government.”
“So the anti-something or other people did it? Wasn’t the guy a foreigner?”
“Leon Czolgosz is the man who pulled the trigger. I’m no expert on politics but my guess is that other anarchists do not support shooting people. And the paper said he was born in Detroit. That makes him an American. His parents are from Poland but that doesn’t mean anything. The police in the big cities are rounding up anarchists just in case there’s any trouble.”
A voice came from the crowd. “Czolgosz was reading pamphlets by Emma Goldman, anarchist and Jew. That means the Jews did it.”
Someone yelled, “They’re all probably in on it!”
The crowd got into a serious commotion.
Someone else yelled, “Are there any Jews around here? Maybe we should round them up too.”
Most everyone was arguing with each other.
Augustus Grossman jumped on the wagon. “I am a Jew.”
The crowd turned to him.
“I’m Augustus Grossman! My parents were Joseph and Leah Grossman. I am a rancher. I am an honest business man. I am a lieutenant in the United States Army Reserve. Tomorrow, I will go to Eagle Creek Memorial Church and pray to my Messiah to provide benevolent guidance to our country. And if any of you cowards want to take out your anger on me or my family… well, I would not recommend that course of action.”
Augustus stood on the wagon, solid as the Rock of Gibraltar and burning like a volcano.
He snorted, “Does anyone want to take on this Jew?”
The crowd was silent.
“I didn’t think anyone would. Folks, I know you’re in mourning, like me and my house. We’re Americans. We don’t toss stones at innocent parties. We act civilized. We act like men and women who are obedient to God’s Law of love thy neighbor as thy self. Friends, this is Eagle Creek. We don’t even have a policeman in this town. That assassin was an anarchist, a political philosophy I haven’t even heard of until a few days ago.”
Augustus shrugged. “Rafe Tallard is our mayor. I don’t know if he’s a Republican or a Democrat. He’s Rafe! Larry’s up here speaking but… he ain’t the deputy-mayor. You know why? Because it never occurred to anyone that we needed a deputy-mayor. Larry’s just a citizen. He’s a member of the school board like me. He volunteered to organize this assembly so that as many people as possible could hear this dreadful news.”
Augustus rubbed his chin. “One more thing, I believe that this nation is here; I believe that this town is here because of God’s Providence. We are a collection of individuals who work, worship and breathe the Spirit of Freedom. Please, friends, please do not trade that Spirit of Freedom for the Demon of Fear. Don’t let your hurt, your disgust, your bewilderment be an excuse to act in an untoward fashion toward your neighbors. And, remember, we are standing in front of a schoolhouse. Your children are watching.”
Augustus stepped down. As he walked into the crowd to rejoin his wife, a smattering of applause followed him.
Larry nodded. “Well said, Augustus. A few minutes ago when I went to tell my wife, Janet Hall, the school principle, eight parents were in her office yelling at her because they had to have their kids here on a Saturday. My guess is… all that doesn’t much matter right now.
When I was twenty-one, we had a neighborhood meeting one evening. Rafe Tallard read the telegram that day which said President Garfield had died. I was born in 1860, so I don’t remember hearin’ about Lincoln. Anyway, that makes three dead presidents in thirty-six years.
I don’t know what this country is coming to. I can’t control what crazy people do in Washington or Buffalo, New York. All I can do is pray for my nation and make sure that my children, Roma, Lawrence Jr., Darlene, Evelyn, Donalela and Michele Marie know how to solve their grievances without violence.”
He thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, we’re in front of the school. All of the kids are here. So, I, as a member of the Eagle Creek School Board would like to hear from our children. Will anyone second the motion?”
“Second.” Rufus Mock yelled.
“Third.” Augustus spoke up.
“Three to zero, the motion is passed.”
There was a light chuckle in the crowd. “Wait a second.”
He squinted. “Ok, I see Michael Conrad waving his hand. I guess that makes the motion unanimous. Sorry I didn’t see ya, Mike.”
A little bit more laughter.
“Mrs. Lockwood? Would anyone in the first, second or third grade like to say something?”
The teacher looked to her students. Emily Clementine, age five, raised her hand.
Larry made a motion for her to come up on the wagon.
He picked her up. She stood on the bench.
She started singing.
“O say can you tell me why the doggie barks?
The doggie barks.
Oh the doggie barks.
O say can you tell me why the kitty says ‘meow’?
Oh the kitty says meow.
Oh the kitty says meow.”
Uncomfortable giggles gave way to full blown laughter.
Will Clementine finally picked up Emily and walked with her back to the teacher. Emily sang the whole trip.
Larry mumbled, “Ok, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after-all.”
More laughter.
“However, I am the sponsor of this resolution, so, I’ll continue. I see that Carmen Tallard is raising her hand. I suppose she’s been selected as the spokesman for the fourth, fifth and sixth grades. Come on up, doll.”
The ten-year-old boldly took her spot on the wagon.
Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Mr. Hall and my fellow citizens: yesterday, in class, we made a poster for President McKinley. Cindy drew a little map of Montana with an arrow up the corner, just in case he didn’t know where Eagle Creek was.”
There were a few warm smiles in the crowd.
“Our teacher took it down to the post office. It’s probably in the big post office sorting facility in River City. Me and Mary Jo got to see it on a tour once, her uncle Kellar works there. I think we should make a bigger one and send it to President Roosevelt to tell him we support him and we will remember him in our prayers. There’s a phone in my daddy’s office. If Mr. Hall calls him, maybe, we can get the other returned.” She wore an uneasy smile. “Does anybody like my idea?”
Most everyone nodded or gave the child encouraging words.
Mr. Hall hugged Carmen.
“Your daddy’s gonna be proud when he hears about this.”
Carmen whispered, “I want to be mayor someday too.”
“Do you know what a floating bond is?”
“No sir.”
“Then you’ve got my vote.”
Larry helped her down from the wagon.
“Does the seventh, eighth and ninth grade have anything to say?”
Cathy Shepherd raised her hand. Her best friend, Cindy Jackson was nudging her and giggling.
Larry Hall asked, “What do you have to say, young lady?”
Cindy was egging her on.
Finally, Cathy spoke up. “Well, we’re supposed to be taking a county wide test today; but, since the President died, can’t we all just get an ‘A’ and go home?”
Cindy broke into laughter. Cathy chuckled along with her, reveling in her well played joke until she noticed that no one else was laughing.
Ethel Jackson marched over to her daughter.
Cindy looked up.
“We were joking mother, it’s no big….”
Ethel slapped her.
Anna Shepherd, Cathy’s mother, said, “Young lady we’re having a talk when you get home.”
Ethel turned to Mr. Windsor. “Mr. Windsor, please make sure my daughter completes the county test today even if those results are made void, I insist that she take the test.”
Mr. Windsor nodded.
Larry looked to Mrs. Grayson. “Does the senior high class have anything to say?”
A young man from the senior high class raised his hand.
Larry addressed him, “The board recognizes Ray Casey.”
Ray, seventeen and rugged, ran up to the wagon. He stepped aboard and put one foot on the bench.
“I’d like to say… ‘So what?’”
As soon as the words left his mouth a few of his classmates started trying to get at him. A sixteen-year-old classmate named Julius Walsdorf ran up to the wagon. He and Larry stood in between Ray and the crowd.
“Let him speak,” Larry shouted, “Let… him… speak.”
They continued to deflect men trying to get at Ray. They were calling him troublemaker and coward.
“Calm down,” Larry yelled, “Calm down. There will be no fighting here. Ray Casey is an American citizen. I offered a public invitation for anyone to speak their mind on the death of President William McKinley because I cherish the freedom of speech. Friends, if we only let people speak when we agree with their opinions then we would never learn anything. Now, then, Ray Casey will speak his mind and if any of you wants to stop him you will have to go through me first.”
“And me,” Julius Walsdorf said.
“Me too,” came a voice from the back.
“And me as well.” Mrs. Grayson said. “If you deny this young man the opportunity to speak or if you retaliate against him for expressing his opinion then everyone… EVERYONE in grades ten, eleven and twelve will fail the test. I don’t care what answers you mark down, if you do not put the principles of liberty into practice then you do not deserve this great nation.”
A few other adults stood with Mrs. Grayson and Larry.
Ray sneered at the crowd and made a motion with his fists that he wanted to fight. “Words Ray,” Larry cautioned. “Just use words.”
Ray started to speak. Larry held up his hand to have him wait.
“Um… say what you want.” Larry shifted his eyes. “But there are ladies present so… no swearin’, ok?”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Ray took a deep breath and belted out his speech. “I am a Sioux. My people are the rightful owners of this land. Because of arrogant thieves like your fathers and grandfathers and great grandfathers, my people are forced to live on a reservation.”
“Your people? Ray, you live on Elm Street!” someone yelled.
One of the kids shouted. “How dare you! I’m Sioux and I love this country.”
“Bobby Goodpasture be quiet! You are not the one speaking at this time.”
Bobby kicked the dust and hung his head. “Yessum.”
Ray continued, “The white man has deceived us, killed us and spit upon our traditions. If there is one less white tyrant in this world then I for one am thankful. You wicked people! The chickens have come home to roost!
This country is run by the oil, coal and locomotive corporations and robber barons. Those silly little votes you cast are worthless.
Whites are fools. They poison the earth. They tell my people that they are bound for hell because they do not pray like they do. Whites enslaved coloreds and then they gave them their freedom only to find other ways to take it back from them.
A couple of years ago, America started a war on the Cuban people. As I speak, the people of the Philippines are fighting the American imperialists who wear fancy uniforms and fly their pretty flag.”
He spit on the ground.
“That is what I think of your flag, your nation, your dead President McKinley and the two-bit cowboy, Theodore Roosevelt who will now occupy that filthy den of iniquity you call the Oval Office.”
All eyes remained fixed on the hot blooded young man.
He looked to the sky and yelled, “That’s what I have to say.”
He took one last glance at the crowd and then marched back to the high school class.
“Is that it?” someone yelled.
Mr. Hall cocked his head. “Excuse me?”
“You let that savage jabber on and on but you’re not going to say anything in reply?”
Larry shook his head. “No. I’m not saying a word. I’m going to let my actions speak for me.”
Larry paused. “My guess is there are a few dozen people here who will want to present a counter argument but, well, I for one don’t want to turn this into a debate.
People’s opinions are just that, opinions, nothing more or nothing less. It is how we live which is the true testament of our character. In most debates you don’t find the truth, you just find out who is the best at arguing.
If Ray Casey does not like whites then that is his opinion. So be it. His opinion does not harm me or limit my liberty. I respect his right to disagree because I want to be treated the same way.
Another thing, the way Indians are discriminated against might have an impact on that opinion. I am not excusing his belief, I am merely providing a possible context for it.”
The crowd was confused. Some agreed with Larry, other’s thought him to be a sell-out.
Ray raised his hand. “Mr. Hall, sir, may I say something?”
“Go right ahead.”
“I… um… I don’t hate you.” He adjusted his hat. “I appreciate the way you and Julius and Mrs. Grayson and Marty Conrad stood up for me just now.”
Larry shrugged. “I am grateful you feel that way, young man. That shows a great deal of maturity and humility on your part. Now that you’ve had your chance to speak on the death of our President, I will suggest that you let the grievance end here on this campus. Outsiders, other town folk, may not be as tolerant as I, especially in the wake of such a national tragedy.”
Ray shrugged. “I suppose that’s wise.” He raised his head back up. “But all that other stuff I said about this racist, corrupt government: I meant every word.”
“I know you did, Ray, I know you did. And I will mean this one word.”
Larry walked up to him. He stuck out his hand.
“Friends?”
Ray was at first unnerved but then shook his hand in return.
He gave half-of-a-smile and nodded. “Colapi.”
Larry correctly guessed at the meaning of the Siouan word. “Friends.”
Ray respectfully nodded to him.
Larry remained with the high school class. From that position he shouted, “Will one of the preachers offer up a blessing?”
Reverend Joe Gil of the Eagle Creek Baptist Church volunteered to give a benediction. When he stepped aboard the wagon, men removed their hats.
Larry whispered, “Ray, your hat?”
“I don’t believe in god.”
“Then, would you do it for Ida McKinley?”
Ray nodded and then removed his hat.
Rev. Gil spoke solemnly, “Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name….” As the prayer continued, Larry opened his eyes. He motioned for Ray to join him around the corner. Ray agreed. They stepped over to the playground.
Larry sighed. “Kid, what’s eatin’ ya?”
“The white man has been ravaging….”
“I heard your speech; now answer my question. Kid, what’s eatin’ ya?”
Ray ran his fingers through his hair. “I want to open my own restaurant. The Eagle Creek Café is about to go belly up. All of their equipment is probably going to stay there and I could get it for a song but,” he collapsed his shoulders. “Mr. Conrad down at the bank won’t give me a loan… ’cause I’m an Indian.”
Larry swished his mouth. “He actually said, ‘I will not loan you money ’cause you’re an Indian?’”
“Well,” he shuffled his feet. “No, not exactly.”
“My guess is, he said, I’m not going to secure a one thousand dollar loan to a seventeen-year-old who hasn’t even graduated high school yet because he was suspended last year for fighting.”
Ray sighed. “Yeah, that’s… the gist of it. He’s mean.”
“He’s prudent. Ray, if you ran that bank, would you give you a loan?”
Ray’s face fell. “Probably not.”
Larry thought for a moment. “But, you honestly and truly think you can run that restaurant?”
“With all of my heart, sir.”
“The Monday after you graduate, come to my office at the lumber mill and then you and I will talk to Michael Conrad.”
“Why would you want to help me?”
Larry shrugged. “Two reasons. I’ve known your parents all my life. Your father is a hard worker down at my lumber mill. Your mother is an excellent cook in an otherwise poorly run restaurant on Main Street. If you have half of his work ethic and half of her baking skills then I am willing to gamble my money and back you so you can build a business which will benefit this entire community.”
“What’s the second reason?”
“‘Cause I’m an evil white capitalist who hates injuns.”
Ray chuckled, “I’ll graduate sir.”
“You do that. Just so we’re clear, even if I go with you there is no guarantee that you’ll get the loan.”
“I’ve got a whole year to give Mr. Conrad free lunches and samples. But, beyond that, with you by my side, sir, that’s all the guarantee I need.”
“Good. One more thing, that stuff you said about how whites have mistreated your people,” Larry bit his lower lip. “It’s true.”
Ray tilted his head. He was not expecting Larry to agree with that statement.
“Lord willing, Ray, Lord willing, if you become a restaurateur, remember, it’s your business. If you develop a reputation for providing an excellent meal at a fair price, then when people walk into your restaurant no one will care if their seating hostess is Chippewa or if the dishwasher is Blackfoot or if the waiter is Arapho or if the owner is Sioux. All they’ll care about is their food and their money. And those economic transactions will benefit your people a lot more than brawling on the schoolyard.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Mr. Hall.”
“Good. Don’t ever stop thinking, Ray. When we quit thinking we start shooting and Lord knows there’s enough of that in this world already.”
“I agree with you. If there is a god, Mr. Hall, may he bless your efforts, and, may he be with Mrs. McKinley.”
“Thanks, Ray; I’ll see you in May.”
