I have been fortunate to have a few very close Indian friends through the years. They had a great sense of humor.
I did know of several tragic story's they went through and got involved with one that worked for me as we also lived together. Firewater and principals were involved and some people dyed in two separate incidents. The ones I knew definitely couldn't handle liquor. Back in just my time many areas still wouldn't sell liquor to them and it was for reason. I think their metabolism couldn't handle it. Back in the late 1950`s my job partner at a foundry was a real nice guy and I liked him. Later he was back on the Rez, drinking with his brother. They ran out of money, hit up a third brother for money, he wouldn't give them any and the two brothers beat their brother to death!
A half mile from our house five or so years ago a drunk Indian (I didn't know him but people that did know him all liked him) got stuck in the snow. A town cop stopped, a got shovel and was shoveling out his car for him. The Indian took the cops shotgun out of his car and shot him! Fortunately with his vest and heavy clothing it didn't kill him. The Indian ran but was found hiding under a culvert under the road.
The one that worked for me in the early 1960`s was the best on my crew. I was a foreman that did contract jobs all over the country, would hit a town and had digging work to do immediately and hired anyone I could for minimum wage to work the next day and get them anyway I could. I hired "Nelson". The other guys gave me the word Nelson was a local tough that always fought everyone for entertainment etc. Nelson liked me and me him. He was thankful for the cheap hard dirty job and worked his azz off for me. He took me home to meet his family.
He/we caught his wife in a compromising situation. We left and he cried in my truck. Told me he had to kill her. "It`s the way of my people". He had me drive him over to his fathers house. I noticed him through the windows looking through a couple rooms. I figured he was looking for a gun. He was wearing tight jeans and I figured I could make him if he found one. If he did I planned on cold cocking him and driving him to the local PD station as they were well acquainted with him. When he came out he admitted he had been looking for a gun but evidently his dad was tipped and hid them. He wanted to go have a drink. I now thought that a good idea and planned to get him so drunk he couldn't do anything and wing it. (I was also young, dumb and using the idea as a stall while I figured out something better.)
In the course of our bar hopping he told another guy his problem, the guy called his preacher for counseling and I drove him there. The do gooder had him promise to come to church that weekend.
Finally I dropped Nelson off at a flop house, probably thought him too drunk to do anything and drove to my parents about sixty miles away for the week end. I think my mother had met Nelson prior through me plus my dad knew either Nelsons dad or uncle that had been the county sheriff years prior.
Folks went to church, I stayed home trying to catch up on payroll work I had neglected through all this.
Phone rang, PD wanted to know did I know a Nelson -----. I told them I would be by the next day or two.
I went and they wanted a couple hundred to bail him out on a disorderly conduct charge. I said look, I am headed for Sault St Marie and will take him with me. I knew he was headed for trouble and held back a few bucks
for this. I will take him out of the area. I think they got their heads together and I got him for about twenty bucks and off we went. We got in my truck and I asked him what happened? He DID go to church, made some comment, "Hey! Thats pretty good music! Let`s have a hoe down! The ushers tried to evict him, he fought them and the PD come got him. We went to the UP. I had a seventeen foot travel trailer I pulled and we lived and worked together about a week. I kept a revolver handy that he didn't know I had. One night he got drunk, told me he was taking some pills that was gonna kill him. I rolled over in bed and said something like go ahead. Had my revolver in hand under my pillow and waited. He opened the door and spit them out. Then he said he was hitching a ride back to go kill her tomorrow. "It`s the way of my people". The next morning I drove him out to the main road and that's the last I saw him. Of course I dropped a dime on him to the local PD I had bailed him out of and told them he was coming back to kill his wife.
A year or two later my mother sent me a newspaper article where he was driving drunk, hit and killed a car load of people and was hanging on to life. Just remembering. Thanks.
