A Gathering of the Tribes--an Update

If you want to get a sense of the ways in which Native American culture has evolved on the cusp of the 21st Century, consider the implausible life of Dolores Goodeagle--Dee Dee to friends.

A member of both the Osage and Sac-Fox nations, Goodeagle is an Oklahoma resident who spends much of her time on the road, in search of a lucrative powwow. Next weekend she may be in Montana or even Saskatchewan. This past weekend, she was here in the Valley at an event dubbed the Los Angeles Intertribal Pow Wow.

“They call me a pro,” says Goodeagle, clad in native dress of vibrant yellow. Sometimes she’s compared to a barnstorming rodeo cowboy. “They go where the big purses are. And that’s what I do.”

Dee Dee Goodeagle is a traditional dancer, senior division, and attends about 30 such events each year. She’s also considered the reigning champion, having triumphed at the annual intertribal powwow hosted by the Pequots of Connecticut. The Pequots own a casino and offer the top prize money, thus drawing the largest field of competitors.

At the Los Angeles Intertribal, more than $11,500 was distributed to dozens of participants as prize money and honorariums. This event, held at Hansen Dam Equestrian Center, was not hosted by a tribe, but by an outfit called Gold Coast Productions, a company that also has staged Civil War re-enactments and is now at work on one of those Renaissance festivals. Dick Wixon, history buff and Gold Coast president, describes his own heritage as “white bread.”

That’s pretty much my tribe, too. Then again, a few years back, my cousin Norman, the family genealogist, came to the conclusion that, as our grandmother always claimed, we have Choctaw roots as well. Norman’s evidence is persuasive--a memoir written by a great-uncle describing my grandmother’s grandmother as “at least one-quarter Choctaw.” That makes me 1/64th Choctaw. Or is it 1/128th?

Whatever. At the L.A. Intertribal, I felt no spiritual impulse to seek out these very distant cousins. I was more interested in finding some Fernandenos, the name Spanish explorers and missionaries gave the tribe who inhabited this valley upon their arrival.

Wixon and I set out on a search. A Fernandeno, a friend of Wixon, had served as a flag-bearer during the grand entry ceremony. We walked the loop of the arena, passing booths that advertised Indian fry bread, jewelry, clothing and artwork as well as Pepsi, Chinese food and shaved ice--a big seller in the heat.

The mood was very much like a small county fair, albeit set to the thump-thump-thump of the drums. One’s eyes were always drawn to the elaborate ceremonial dress of the dancers.

Alas, we never found the Fernandeno.

This might not be too surprising. Some tribes, such as the Navajo, have been able to preserve their culture. But the California tribes were decimated by disease brought by Europeans, and their culture faded after the coming of the Spanish, the Mexicans and the Americans. As the intertribal events show, history has brought the distinct tribes together to fraternize and celebrate their heritage.

Gypsie Vasquez, a Mescalero Apache who lives in North Hollywood, held her 15-month-old son and talked about the importance of teaching her child his heritage even before his birth. At powwows, her unborn son could hear the drums and feel the rhythms as she performed traditional Aztec dances with her part-Aztec husband.

“As much as we can in today’s society, it’s important to teach our children to be proud of who they are,” said Vasquez, a health educator. She and her husband named their son Iztac Cuauhtli, which translates as White Eagle.

This powwow also showed that Native American culture has been adopted by others.

Eric Kimple of Alameda wore traditional Comanche attire and danced traditional dances, though he is Comanche by marriage only. His 16-year-old daughter, Hope, was selected as the Intertribal Princess, the third time she’s received such an honor.

“I usually go by ‘Comanche captive,’ ” the blue-eyed Kimple explained with a grin. “It’s an old term.”

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The next day, I finally located one of Wixon’s Fernandeno friends.

Beverly Folkes of Thousand Oaks returned my call. She’s on the board of directors of the Oakbrook Regional Park Chumash Interpretive Center in Ventura County, a 200-acre preserve that includes a cave that contains pictographs.

Folkes traces her roots to three tribes that occupied this region--the coastal Chumash, the Fernandeno, and the Tataviam, who lived in the Santa Clarita Valley. Her grandfather, Antonio Maria Ortega, was the last of the so-called Mission Indians who resided at the San Fernando Mission. He died in 1941.

The former Beverly Salazar never wondered about her roots. Her birth certificate identifies her as “Indian,” and in her hometown of San Fernando, “we were known as an Indian family.” Her mother made sure she knew the family history, and Beverly passes it on to her children and her 11 grandchildren. Every Thanksgiving, the family makes a ritual of it, burning sage and telling the old stories, such as the one about her great-great-grandfather, who was one of the few natives awarded a California land grant by the Mexican government.

“I feel so fortunate that I grew up being Indian,” she said. “I knew who I was from Day One.”

Beverly Folkes came to the event last weekend. But her husband, unlike Eric Kimple, isn’t the powwow type.

“My husband’s Irish,” she said. “I don’t think you’d catch him out there at all.”

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Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, Calif. 91311. Please include a phone number. Address TimesLink or Prodigy e-mail to YQTU59A ( via the Internet: YQTU59A@prodigy.com).