Indians’ Protest Began Long Before The Chop

Steve Ford wore an old Minnesota Twins baseball cap, interlocking “TC” above the bill, with a yellow flower pushed through a hole in the top. Affixed to his leather jacket was a round sticker bearing a pair of crossed tomahawks with a red line slashed across them. In his hands he carried a homemade sign that read:

Jane

We’re Not So

Fonda You

Since Your

“Turneround”

Ford was part of Saturday’s march on the Atlanta Braves, one of 250 wind-chilled bodies huddled in front of the Metrodome before the World Series opener, protesting the National League champions’ choice of nicknames and their fans’ tomahawk-waving, war-whooping, face-painting antics in the stands. Ford was discussing the cause with a reporter when a red-faced, redneck brushed his arm and cleverly quipped, “Maybe if you had a picture of a drunken Indian out of work, your sign would be more accurate.”

Ford glared at the heckler’s back until it melted into the crowd.

“See what I mean?” Ford said. “See what we’re fighting against? The racism, the hatred. What is it that causes someone to make a disgusting comment like that?”

Ford is not a Native American, not a member of the American Indian Movement (AIM), the group that organized Saturday’s rally. He is the personification of the Minnesota stereotype--light skinned, light haired, rosy-cheeked--a second-grade teacher living in St. Paul. But he is a sympathizer, and when he heard on the news about the planned demonstration, he grabbed some cardboard, a Magic marker and made his way to the corner of Sixth and Chicago.

“A lot of people think this is just a lot of noise and wonder what’s the big deal,” Ford said. “Well, sexual harassment has become an issue of national importance and I look at this the same way.

“If a woman says no, that should be enough. And if a whole group of people say they are offended by actions that demean their culture and their heritage, it ought to be stopped, simple as that.”

Atlanta, supposed cradle of New South enlightenment, hasn’t seen it that way. In the stands at Fulton County Stadium, the Tomahawk Chop is regarded with reverence, a necessary counterattack to the Humpdome’s Homer Hankies. Mock Indian chants are considered state-of-the-art cheerleading, the wearing of war paint and feathered head-dresses all in good fun.

If liberal icons Jane Fonda and Jimmy Carter can do The Chop for the television cameras, it must be right for the rest of America, right?

“Suppose you’re Catholic,” said another protester, Brian Oppegard of Minneapolis. “What if people were running through the stands waving rosaries, wearing cardinal caps and genuflecting? I’m Catholic and I know I’d be offended.”

Another sign, professionally printed, featured four pennants bearing logos and team nicknames. The imagery is graphic, intended to shock.

Pittsburgh Negroes.

Kansas City Jews.

San Diego Caucasians.

Cleveland Indians.

Underneath, the punch line: “Maybe Now You Know How Native Americans Feel.”

A few yards back, a flag-sized felt pennant waved. In the navy-and-script of the Atlanta Braves, it read “Racism.”

Critics of AIM have accused the group of grandstanding, of singling out the Braves now because the team has captured the country’s fancy, creating a World Series-sized soapbox. What about the best professional and collegiate football teams in the nation, the Washington Redskins and the Florida State Seminoles? Where were the protests when the Kansas City Chiefs were born--or when the Braves played in Boston, or Milwaukee?

“Native Americans have been protesting this kind of treatment for 200 years,” said Clyde Bellecourt, founder and national chairman of AIM. “I started AIM in July of 1968 and 16 years ago, we convinced Stanford University to change its name from the Indians to the Cardinal. In the last 12 years, we’ve had 20 high school teams in Minnesota change their names.”

Bellecourt was also there in 1973, at Wounded Knee. So was Fonda. In Seattle in 1970, Fonda was arrested for her part in an AIM attempt to occupy Fort Lawton. Bellecourt had regarded Fonda as an ally. Now he watches her sit with Braves owner and fiance Ted Turner, leading thousands of Atlantans in The Chop, and he says, “I feel betrayed.”

With the assistance of a bullhorn, Bellecourt coined another postseason baseball chant:

“Jane Fonda, shame on you!”

Bellecourt’s ultimate goal is to have the Atlanta Brave go the way of the Stanford Indian. New nickname, no problems, he contends. “You change the name, you change the whole package,” Bellecourt said. “Call them the Atlanta Eagles or Cardinals or Bears. Then you wouldn’t see tomahawks, you’d see something else.”

Or, the Braves could act on Oppegard’s suggestion: “I think they should be called the Atlanta Barbarellas.”

Already, inroads have been detected. Saturday night, Fonda told reporters she would cease and desist on the Tomahawk Chop. Baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent admitted, “we need more education and we’ll discuss this after the World Series.” After the World Series, Turner has agreed to meet with AIM leaders to address the situation.

Not good enough for Bellecourt. “All this will be forgotten after the World Series,” he argued. “This is an issue that must be addressed now.”

So, in the interim, Bellecourt has become an American League fan. “I hope,” he said, “the Twins help us out and put a stop to The Chop early.”

Final score, four hours later: Twins 5, Braves 2.

Bellecourt considered it a start.