Way back then, Indian doctors could do several things besides just posing. Of course, my mother thought I was talking about things nobody talks about. Nobody really knows about this; this is just, shall we say, family history. When my father and mother were living during the 1890s, they were sort of newly married in a way. That is a funny way to put it! They were young. My mother already had a son; he was twelve or thirteen years old. He was in the Mission School. His name is Hubert Coy. (My mother liked the name Hubert. Nobody else liked it. He hated the name. He had everybody call him Herb.) But he was in the schoolroom and he got sick. Then the whole Mission School had an epidemic. My mother and father called it “remittent fever.” I don’t know what it was, but it was a real killer.
Hardly anyone lived. The Indian boys and girls in the school who got it died day by day. They did two funerals a day. When he got sick, they notified my mother, and some others went to see him. He was in the sickroom in the old mission. There was another boy dying, because they had screens around him. My mother and father went to see him and he was very sick, because the next day the screens were around him, too. They told my mother and father he wasn’t going to live; he was just too sick. My mother stayed there, of course. She said the rosary; that is what she leaned on. She knelt by his bed, and the Sister Superior stayed with her. My father told her, “I’m going to go down to Spibida and get my uncle and see what he can do.” My mother said for him to go and to please try. My father paddled his canoe as fast as he could go down to Spibida and found his uncle and told him his stepson was dying.
He had another uncle. My father and some other cousins, several families—quite a lot of Indian people, in fact—were living there. They all got together in a little Indian home, and the uncle prepared his drums and the song that goes along, his guardian spirit song. Then he stops drumming and singing, and he concentrates. He is thinking. I have seen them. Their eyes close. They are thinking. Then he started to talk, and he said my brother must have been playing where there are graves. Nobody knew there were graves there, but the children had been jumping and running all over.
My mother said she was kneeling by the bed and looking at Hubert. He was covered with perspiration, and he wasn’t talking anymore. He had stopped talking the day before. He hardly knew when the sisters came in to wipe his face with cool water. My mother was saying the rosary on her knees with Sister Superior with her, and she said Hubert opened his eyes, and he looked around the room. He saw her, and he said, “I want some dried salmon. I’m hungry.” She was praying. My father said he was way down there in Spibida with the uncle who was concentrating and kneeling on his knees.
They always sat in a certain way. The Indian doctors had a way of sitting. He started to talk, and that was what he said, “The Indian children were running around over some old graves way out of the school grounds.” In fact, they probably just ran away. He said, “I will do what I can.” They do that, you know. It is as if they are gathering up the spirits or the feelings of the person who is sick. Because sickness is sort of spread around like that, and that was what the uncle did, and my father stayed there with him. The uncle said, “He will be all right.”
My father had been gone for three or four hours, and by the time he got back, Hubert was awful weak. After those first few words, he didn’t say much more—only that he wanted some dried salmon. He remembered that, too. He was talking about it when he was almost eighty years old. He just loved dried salmon. We all did. He was talking about being sick in the Catholic school and dispensary and asking for dried salmon. Of course, it was a nice clean dispensary, but he would just eat it with his hands. Of course, he didn’t get it. I think they just gave him some broth.
Indian Shaker Healing
I always believed in Indian Shakers for healing, such as Mr. and Mrs. Lamont—those two people. We had them when my grandson was very sick. I remember my mother said Martha was the last one, and my father said that, too. They had such good “helps,”5 when they were all praying, and they were singing and keeping time with the bells—what they called “working on you,” “working on a patient,” working on someone who has come to the Shaker Church and asked for help. Quite a lot of them will concentrate on one or two people. I always had a good feeling about Martha and Levi. They came to our house, and all of us were loaded with grief over the sickness of my grandchild. But when they pray and sing and ring the bells, it gives you a feeling that you are really being helped. They had what we referred to as “spiritual power” when they touched me or touched Wayne.
I had the same kind of feeling with what we always called an Indian doctor. They sing, they concentrate, and they sing their guardian spirit song, or sqəlalitut, and the drums beat, and they lay their hands on the head or shoulders or arms of a person they have come to see.
When our cousins, Martha and Levi, helped me the first time, they said that some sqəlalitut, guardian spirits, follow Wayne and me around. They are around me and around William. William was in high school at the time. He didn’t know much about that kind of thing, because he said “Eeee!” He wondered if he could see them. If he could just feel it. It should give you confidence if you know there are guardian spirits that stay with you and take care of you, keep you from injury.
I remember the time Martha and Levi were “helping” Wayne. When they first began, they stood close by. Martha was standing close to where Wayne was sitting. The song and the concentration go on for some time. Then Martha moved in, touching him, and it turned her halfway around. It was interesting. Nobody would believe it. Just as she was going to touch Wayne—she went just like that—and it hurled her around. She was an older woman, and she had arthritis so she never moved around that much. She knew that the guardian spirits were around Wayne, but as she moved in close to help, then she remembered and she saw them.
I remember Wayne afterwards said, “That was a nice feeling to know there are friendly guardian spirits around you that are always helping you.” Of course, a psychologist would say that is one way of giving a person confidence. Very few families in this tribe, it seemed, had a guardian spirit song that was owned by one family and was called a family totem. My father and the others talked and said they knew about it, but nobody talked about it during all of those years. When they were reminiscing and telling about it, they never thought about it either; just that they had known that this guardian spirit went around sometimes. My father said that that spirit would be far away; it seems to travel around the world. I used to know the spirit song for that animal. I can’t remember it now. I think Wayne has a recording of it. I was remembering some of the songs that went with it, different ones of our people, I mean, of my family. It seems to me Wayne was asking me several months ago, and I couldn’t remember it. He has it on a tape somewhere. He can’t remember where it is. Maybe he knows. He probably does.
It seems to me one of the last times I beat the drum I remember singing it all by myself. I don’t know if you would call it a song exactly. It was what we call songs; perhaps they are more like chants. Maybe someone who studied music would have something to say about it. It seems to me I remembered and Professor Olsen6 took a tape of it, and, like I always say, one person singing out an Indian song is not something a lot of people would want to listen to. If there are several Indians—a hundred Indians—singing the same song, then it is really impressive.
I always feel as though it is only two or three years since our cousins Levi and Martha passed away. I miss them. I was telling Wayne I really need them, because I didn’t realize how much their ceremonials in our house made me feel better. I don’t think I would have that much confidence in anyone else.
Some of the Catholics were very devout, and they looked upon the Shakers as not Christian. They had been “brainwashed” to think that anything Indian was sinful. The Shakers established themselves and went ahead, especially in walking around the room together in a circle7—that was not done in the Catholic Church I ever saw. But the Shakers seemed to have put togeth
er some of the old Indian ways or culture and something from the white man’s Christian religion into the Shaker Church. When I was little, the Shakers did some remarkable healing. My father said, “What do you think can help you a lot? What you think about yourself? If you get sick, you could almost pull yourself through just by telling yourself how strong you are and that ‘I’ve got to get over this. I’ve got to live.’ ” Of course, that is from his Indian teaching: what you have in your mind, you pretty much believe it will help you.
There are songs in the Shaker Church that we would call Indian guardian spirit songs. But when the Shakers talked to my father, they said, “No, they are not.” Some of those songs—the words that were given to them—are different and apply to the church. The Shaker teachings are to give you strength. They do what they called “the work.” When they are all gathering in the church, they know what to say to each other, that there is “work” to do tonight. Somebody is “joining” the church, or somebody has been sick or is sick. They put two, three, or four chairs out in the middle, facing toward their altar, for the sick people to sit on.8 I saw another Shaker Church at La Conner with an altar like that. It had a big cross placed up on the wall. Smaller crosses were placed along the walls around the room where they had a lot of candles.
They sing Indian songs, but they never used the drums. They used bells—quite large silver or brass ones about five inches in diameter or so. Some of them are bigger; some are smaller. Bells, with the handles, were all laid on the altar at the beginning of the service. These bells keep time to the music like a whole lot of drums. Then there are certain ones who ring the bells, one in each hand. On Sunday nearly all of them would wear long white robes9 that are quite loose; almost what you might think angels would wear, with big loose sleeves. The women were what I noticed.
You could identify the Shakers by their songs, but not individually. All of those I heard were pretty much like those we heard in the longhouse. I heard them in La Conner. I heard them in Lummi. I didn’t think there were that many in Lummi, but there are. I used to listen to Martha and Levi Lamont. Those two people were with the Shaker Church right from the beginning, and did all of the things the Church members did, such as carrying a candle in the service. Quite a lot of the Shakers carried candles through the night in certain parts of the ceremony, and they went around the whole room with it. Levi said the flame of the candle had symbolic significance to all of them.
I’ve seen Shakers doing remarkable work in helping alcoholics and very sick people. Some of our people right here who never were sober joined the church, and they stopped drinking. Others were not feeling well or were getting over being sick, and that is what the Shakers called “the work.” While the song went on, bells rang; they put their hands on your head and they stamp their feet on the floor, producing a heavy drumlike sound, and it just goes all throughout the church, the walls, the floor. You could feel it even in your heartbeat. People went up to the front and sat in the chairs for healing, for help and prayer. When they “worked on” somebody, quite a number of them, one, two, three, four, would put their hands on the head, forehead, shoulders, arms of whoever wants to be helped. They “brush” the whole body, all of the way down—a very gentle touch—to your lap, clear to the ends the fingers and clear to the end of your feet to take away the sorrow, the pain, the sickness. It is a vibration that I think is quite healing. Then the Shakers put their hands on them, on the sides of their heads, and they make a sweeping motion across the chest and down the arms, and clear to the ends of the fingers and to the end of their feet to take away the sorrow, the pain. Some one or two of them did that to me. I often thought that kind of very soft touch, which is so gentle you can hardly feel it, really has a calming effect. I think the vibrations are quite healing. It makes you feel calm, and you feel like somebody is praying over you, and they are helping you. It gives you a good feeling. It gives you courage.
Some of them carry white handkerchiefs; and when they go around the church room, all of them line up and go around the whole church in a big circle keeping time with their feet. Of course, everybody sings the songs. The bells ring on and on, like a lot of drumbeats. They went around the room in a certain direction, to the right of the door, following one another; going to the right and around the room has something to do with how the sun goes around the earth. It is like a slow march except they are keeping time with the beat of the bells. The floor is vibrating, and people stand up all over the church. The Shakers go by, and they touch your hand to greet you, to let you know that they have a close feeling of brotherhood or sisterhood with you, and you are welcome. You are one of them. I remember we used to go and stand up and hold up our hands, and they came by, each one of them, and touched our hands. You hold up your right hand. They go by in a march or a dance—keeping time—a slow dance, not moving very fast, but around the whole room, and they touch everybody’s hand with their right hand, anyone who is standing up with their hand out. They do that at the very beginning and at the end, too, as a farewell to everyone.
They did some remarkable work with alcoholics. Way back then, there weren’t any who “backslid.” Today, the Shaker Church members are all very young people. I have not been there recently. Quite a number of young people have joined the Shaker faith. Of course, they are not supposed to drink alcohol of any kind.
They all seemed to be so friendly toward each other and visitors who came. I used to go too, and we like to go to the Catholic Church because that is where my mother went. The Catholic Church seemed so quiet and stately. The Shakers were friendlier, shaking everybody’s hand, and they used to have big dinners.
I wonder how far they have spread. It is mostly in the Pacific Northwest, and it has spread quite a ways, I think. I don’t know how far, but I think there were Shakers in northern California and over east of the mountains and in parts of Oregon. I haven’t seen the whole complete thing perhaps. I have been to their church so many times with my father and mother, because they used to invite my father to come. They were mostly along here in Washington, partly along the Oregon coast and northern California.10 I remember the Indians from here used to go to California for the convention. It is interesting how it spread. Some people in Neah Bay are Shakers. They didn’t go to powwows. I think the last several years on the reservation they came to the longhouse. It seems to me I used to hear that they wouldn’t go into a longhouse because they believed it was a place of devils.
In the longhouse they walked to the right of the door and all the way around, shaking hands with everybody, and that is what the Shakers did. Only with them, they sang their certain songs and kept time, not with drums, but with their bells.11 All of the way around, and all of the people stand up, even if they are visitors, members, whatever. You get a feeling of close brotherhood and sisterhood.
Sq̓wədilič are the spirit boards. About ten years ago or more, they had sq̓wədilič down here at the longhouse. It was the first time I had seen sq̓wədilič for, I don’t know, years and years.
Years ago, when I was in high school, we used to go to the longhouse in La Conner. As soon as we got off our cars, they were all together, my father and those people started beating the drums, and they all sang the same song. We would be outside the door, quite a few steps away. There were always people outside, too, shaking hands to the time of the drum. When the longhouse singers hear our drums and hear our song, they know who we are. They say, “Here come the Snohomish.”
I just happened to be sick one time when they had the gatherings in the longhouse, because that time I was there and I was talking with somebody, and I said I didn’t know he—Kenny Moses—had a guardian spirit of sq̓wədilič. sq̓wədilič are used in the longhouse; they are spirit boards. Tommy Bob in La Conner used to have the sq̓wədilič boards—the two medicine boards. After my father died in 1938, Tommy sang my father’s and my uncle’s guardian spirit songs. I hadn’t seen sq̓wədilič for years. The sq̓wədilič went to some man or woman across the hall from me. They came
to me, and I thought, “Oh, dear!” I had just said I didn’t know that he had sq̓wədilič. It sounded so good and was really so nice to see and hear again. It stopped right in front of me and moved in very slowly, right straight at me, about three feet away. Of course, there are several hundred Indian people sitting there. I got so scared. One of the young men helping to carry it looked at me, and I could see in his eyes that they don’t see anything. They are not looking at any individual Indian.
The sq̓wədilič moved in; it touched my face very gently. I was just getting over a cold and I had severe headaches. It seemed as though my sinus trouble was worse. Then, the sqwədilič—the other one—also came, stopped, moved around in small circles, moved into someone, and then they touched me very carefully, softly on my arm.12 One of the young men carrying the sqwədilič said, “Stand up.” Of course, the drums were beating and you could hardly hear people talking. So I stood up, and the one who owned the sqwədilič power came walking over in my general direction, and he said, “Move out.” So, I moved out about six feet. The sqwədilič moved around my face, both sides of my head, and touched me very lightly so that I could barely feel it. Then it moved over my shoulders and down to the end of my arms very slowly; and as Levi and Martha were saying, it was just helping me.
My mother had died about three or four months before. I used to hold my mother, sit her up, to take medication.13 Levi and Martha said, “It is helping you so that you don’t break down about your mother.” People get weak, physically weaker, if they are crying all of the time or mourning somebody’s death.
Tulalip, From My Heart Page 37