In 1993 I wrote a story about Dave Winfield, who was
returning to his hometown to play for the Twins. I enjoyed
the ambience at the ballpark, and thought that going back to
do a story about the Cleveland Indians nickname/mascot
controversy would be a good way to chat with the ballplayers
and see some more free games from the expensive seats.
So, here's the story that appeared in a couple American
Indian newspapers.
Chief Wahoo's tribe?
CLEVELAND (AP) -- Carlos Martinez hit a home run that
bounced off the top of Jose Canseco's head and over the
right field fence Wednesday night, helping the Cleveland
Indians beat the Texas Rangers 7-6.
Any attempt to extol the positive, vibrant aspects of
cultural diversity in America comes smack against the
spectacle, in 1993, of pro sports franchises appropriating
Native American people and their culture -- sacraments,
rituals and symbols -- as a prop for their multi-million
dollar entertainment/sports extravaganzas.
Inside the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minneapolis you
can see a sizable rendition of Chief Wahoo, the logo for the
Cleveland Indians ball club, feather in his headband, fixed
insane grin on his red face, attached to the ballpark's
right field fence. At Atlanta's Fulton County Stadium:
60,000 Braves fans, many wearing turkey feather headdresses
spur on the home town favorites by drumming, chanting a
pseudo-Indian dirge, and chopping away with their foam
rubber tomahawks.
(In years past, Atlanta fans delighted in team mascot Chief
Noc-A-Homa's antics. Levi Walker, said to be one-half
Chippewa and one-half Ottawa, would perform an incantatory
dance around the pitcher's mound before each home game. He
would reside in a teepee beyond the left field fence, and
pop out at propitious moments during a game. According to
Jim Schultz, Atlanta Braves director of public relations,
the franchise now has a toned-down mascot, Homer the Brave,
a person inside of a big puppet head topped by some Indian-
like hairstyle, dressed in a baseball uniform, who stays put
in the stadium's Kids' Corner.)
The campaigners against the exploitation of Indian names and
symbols by sports teams charge that these names and images
pervade the popular culture and are ultimately demeaning.
The images and ancillary products and behaviors fix Native
American people in a static, monolithic 19th century image,
as the noble, primitive warrior. It's not a contemporary
human image being propagated, more in the realm of other
mythical, mystical characters, like Vikings, Pirates, Kings,
Padres and Celtics; and somewhat akin to the pro sports
bestiary of Bears, Dolphins, Tigers, Blue Jays and Falcons.
In Minnesota we find a more advanced understanding of the
Native American objections to this practice. For example,
Minnesota high schools have been responding positively to
criticisms of the exploitation of Native American culture
for fun and games and have changed their school nicknames.
Recently the suburban Burnsville Braves became the
Burnsville Blaze.
No corresponding movement is taking place in the pro ranks.
The pro sports complexes continue to disseminate crude
stereotypes of American Indian culture and religion, even
fielding a team called the Redskins, a word patently a
racial slur.
I reported on American Indian protests at the 1991 World
Series and the 1992 Super Bowl, and I've wondered whether
the players have formed opinions about this issue. In late
May, I went down to the Metrodome to talk to the Twins and
the Indians . . . the Cleveland Indians.
When I arrived on the Metrodome playing field, the visiting
team was still in the clubhouse. The Twins were on the field
warming up, and Kirby Puckett was taking some extra swings
in the batting cage.
For this article, the home team gets to bat first. Leading
off is Dave Winfield, in his twentieth year in the Big
Leagues. Winfield said that he understood the Native
American sensitivity to Indian team names and logos. I
mentioned that Indians are the only racial group subjected
to this treatment.
"Right. A lot of bad things have happened to Native
Americans, and any group that's, quote-unquote, a minority
group they have to speak up sometimes, to make their
feelings known and maybe make changes," Winfield commented.
Gene Larkin stood by the batting cage, rubbing the fragrant
pine tar rag on his bat handle. The hero of the 1991 World
Series said that he'd heard about the Native American
objections to the tomahawk chop and other stereotypes. He
said that both American Indians and the Atlanta Braves
franchise had points to make:
"It's a tough situation. If I was an Indian I would probably
be a little upset about that too. But I don't know what the
answer is. There's got to be a compromise somewhere."
Twins slugger Kent Hrbek seemed eager to cooperate with me,
the non-Indian reporter with the American Indian press,
referring to me as "Cowabunga," and suggesting that we sit
in the dugout and chat.
The beefy, tobacco-chewing slugger, said that he has a lot
of good friends, hunting companions, who are "of Indian
descent." He didn't really understand all the controversy
over Indian names and logos, didn't see it as a "demeaner,"
and, given the benign intent, thought that the issue
shouldn't stir any "fighting words."
Herbie (or T-Rex, as he's known to his teammates)
acknowledged that the grinning Chief Wahoo logo might be a
problem, and he mused about what would happen if the shoe
was on the other foot.
"Maybe we'd feel different about it if something was said
about the white people this way and that way doing
something," Hrbek said. "But like I said, nobody's meaning
any harm by it. And like I said, people are proud to wear
the Cleveland Indians logo, and people are proud to be
Atlanta Braves and stuff like that. So, I can't see it
demeaning in any way."
The "Tribe," as the Cleveland Indians are called, finally
came out for their turn on the field and in the batting
cage. Former Twins catcher Junior Ortiz, who now backstops
for Cleveland, knew about the tomahawk chop/Atlanta Braves
controversy, but wasn't aware of any problem with the
Indians name and Chief Wahoo logo.
"I haven't heard anything [about] us," Ortiz remarked.
"We've always been an Indian, Cleveland, so I haven't heard
that, you know."
Another Cleveland ballplayer I approached for his thoughts
on the Cleveland Indians name and the Chief Wahoo logo
didn't want his name mentioned. He said, "I don't think it's
bad. I mean, it's just a way of just getting a logo out.
Nothing against the Indians, or anything like that. Because
the logo been out for awhile, and I don't think it's
discreet."
When is an Indian not an Indian? Answer: When the Cleveland
Indians say so. Their director of public relations, Bob
DiBiasio, said that the franchise is sensitive to the
American Indian unhappiness with the Chief Wahoo logo.
Two days prior to the Minnesota-Cleveland game, several
dozen Indians and non-Indians -- including officials of the
United Church of Christ -- demonstrated against the team's
name and logo at Cleveland Stadium.
DiBiasio stressed the Cleveland Indians' logo is not meant
to depict real, flesh and blood Native Americans -- they
never show the logo with a body, make it speak, or animate
the character. [THIS IS NOT TRUE - M.S.]
"It is simply a caricature of a sports team," DiBiasio said.
"And when you look at our logo, it's an individual
perception issue. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the
people who look at our logo think of Cleveland Indians
baseball. They don't think of the Native American culture."
Catcher Lance Parrish recently signed with Cleveland. Like
the other ballplayers I talked to for this story, he
admitted that he didn't really understand the specific
American Indian objections to the use of Indian names and
symbols.
The Chief Wahoo cartoon is not an image of the team's
"mascot," according to Parrish, "It's a representation of
something that this ball club has a lot of pride in, and a
symbol of which this ball club would like to be represented
by. And if it's the Indians, then I would think the Indians
would accept that as an honorable gesture."
Their is some irony in the contention over the Cleveland
Indians and their Chief Wahoo logo: The team was named after
a Penobscot Indian, Louis Sockalexis, who was the first
prominent, Native American ballplayer in the pro ranks.
Sockalexis had a brilliant but brief career at the turn of
the century for the old Cleveland Spiders, which became the
Indians in 1915.
Some Native American activists think that a statue of
Sockalexis should stand in front of the new Cleveland
stadium that will open in 1994. There will be a statue, but
a different Indian will grace the pedestal: Bob Feller,
Cleveland's legendary fastball pitcher.
-- Mordecai Specktor
mordecaisp@aol.com