December 29 - a day of shame for the US and glory for the world

by: teacherken

Tue Dec 29, 2009 at 09:28:07 AM EST

This day is important to me.  As noted in yesterday's Got a Happy Story, 24th Anniversary Edition, 24 years ago this afternoon Leaves on the Current and I were joined for all eternity in marriage.

But it also a day of shame for this nation -  on this day in 1890 was the Wounded Knee massacre.  Perhaps later today one of those of this community with Native American blood will write about.  My wife's next older sister has a daughter who is a registered member of a tribe, so this date is important to me.

But it is also a day of glory for the world, because a man named Pau was born this day in 1876.  Pau is Catalan, and he was a fierce advocate for his culture.  He was also one of the world's great musicians, and as a former cello player myself, on this day I also want to honor the man known to the world as Pablo Casals.

Please join me for this diary of shame and of glory.

Of this much we can be sure.  The last remaining holdouts among the Sioux had agreed to surrender at Pine Ridge.  One of them, a tribesman named Black Coyote, was deaf.  He was reluctant to give up his weapon, a scuffle began, and shots were fired.

Both sides fired shots during the encounter.  Something just under 150 Sioux died - men, women and children, some of whom were fleeing and unarmed - and perhaps another 150 fled.  25 troopers of the 7th Cavalry died, but the firing was so indiscriminate and undisciplined that many of these died from the fratricide of "friendly fire."  

The 7th Cavalry so often was the military unit involved with such conflicts.  It was their troops who discovered the gold in the sacred Black Hills, which started the serious conflicts between whites and Native Americans.  In 1876 Custer's troops were from the 7th Cavalry.  And they were involved in the final surrender of Chief Joseph ("I will fight no more forever") and the Nez Perce in 1877.

Why do I call Wounded Knee a shame?  The Lakota (their preferred name) had rifles, the Army had a Hotchkiss gun, the Army forces basically surrounded the natives, the firing was indiscriminate, and the cold-blooded killing of unarmed men, women and children who were fleeing is simply a massacre.  That is not yet the full shame.

Wounded Knee was a culminating event.  This was the time of the Ghost Dancers, and the US was worried about the upheaval it represented.  In March of 1889 the US began to try to transition the Lakota onto farm plots of 320 acres, to take children away from families and place them in Indian boarding schools where they were denied their language and culture -  that, my friends, is cultural genocide.  There was resistance, and the Ghost Dancing was part of it.  The land had been insufficient to support those trying to farm it, the Bureau of Indian Affairs was, not for the first time, corrupt, rations were cut, the bison were gone, and Lakota were starving.

The Ghost Dance was not new, rather it was a revival of an old tradition.  Since this is not my area of expertise, let me bring this section to close by noting the following:

Sitting Bull, one of the victors of Little Big Horn, had threatened to join the Ghost Dancers in protest of reservation life.  Forces were sent to arrest him on December 15, shots rang out and he and a handful of other Lakota died.

On December 28 Spotted Elk, who was ill, agreed to surrender.  His group included 350, a majority of whom were women and children.  Their camp was surrounded by 500 troopers, with four rapid fire Hotchkiss guns.

Commanding General Nelson Miles himself described what had happened as a massacre.  That should be enough for this nation to recognize the shame of the event.  We executed a Japanese general whose troops in the Philippines did indiscriminate slaughter, under the doctrine of command responsibility.  But we are the winners of most of our wars, and do not apply the same standard to ourselves.

That is not the real shame.  This conflict lasted about an hour.  Most of the Native dead were women and children, some slaughtered while trying to escape the conflict by hiding in a ravine.  The Lakota dead were dumped into a mass grave - but only after leaving the dead - and the wounded but not yet dead, the dying - out in the cold and snow of a blizzard for three days.  

That is also something shameful.  But it is not, in my mind, the worst thing.  It is the Medals of Honor.  About 500 soldiers took place, of which 25 died and 24 were wounded.  20 received the Medal of Honor.  Compare that with this fact:  more than 60,000 South Dakotans served in WWII, of whom only 3 received the Medal of Honor.  There were those soldiers at the conflict who tried to show mercy.  And since no formal court martial was ever held, we cannot honestly say whether the testimony that was taken was accurate.  Miles believed it was a massacre, and heavily criticized the commander on the scene, Forsyth, who was exonerated and later rose to the rank of Major General.  Miles did not, however, criticize the medals awarded.  That, too, was shameful.

A day of shame, one which too many Americans do not know.  

Yet today is also a day of glory for the world, for the artistry and humanity of Pau Casals.  

He was one of the world's greatest musicians.  He also was an advocate for his people, the Catalan, whose culture was overwhelmed and subsumed into the larger Spanish culture.  He lived until shortly before his 97th birthday, dying October 22, 1973.  His artistic legacy is incredible, and he is perhaps best known for his recording of the Bach Cello Suites.  He first recorded in 1915. His work as a chamber musician, with pianist Alfred Cortot and violinist Jacques Thibaud, is still available and superb.  He was a conductor as well, and encouraged young musicians.  He was also a composer.

When it comes to musicians, one should let their music speak for them.  So let me do so with Casals.

Let me start with a brief clip of Bach, the beginning of the 1st Suite.  Casals began each day by playing Bach, and until the end of his life still practiced 3 hours a day, saying that he was beginning to see improvement:

For a more extended selection of Bach, from a documentary filmed in 1954:

As a concerto soloist, in the Dvorak, with the Orchestra conducted by George Szell:  

As a chamber musician, with Cortot and Thibaud, in the beginning of Beethoven's Archduke Trio  (one of many selections from this trio available on You Tube):  

As a young man, a recording of Max Bruch's Kol Nidre, in this case accompanied only by piano, not Orchestra:  

Casals was a teacher for most of his life --  here he is giving a master class:  

A brief documentary on Casals as a clay portrait of his head was made:  

He was a conductor, as you see here as he performs Mendelsohn with the Casals Festival Orchestra:

Casals was also a composer, who wrote this, the Hymn to the United Nations, which  he conducted for its first performance in a special concert at the United Nations on October 24, 1971, two months before his 95th birthday.

He also wrote this, Nigra Sum:  

Casals was proudly a humanist.  He was a supporter of the Spanish Republic, and he spent much of his later life in Puerto Rico, because he rejected the Fascism of Franco.  He refused to return to Spain until Democracy was restored, and long refused to perform in any nation recognizing Franco's government, although because of his admiration for JFK made an exception for a performance at the White House in 1961

Casals claiming his Catalan heritage at the UN:  

Casals was originally buried in Puerto Rico.  In 1979, with democracy returned under King Juan Carlos, his remains were reinterred in his home town in Catalonia.

He was a musician, a humanist, a patriot, a teacher.

This day is special to me - and to Leaves on the Current.  Like all days, there are many people and events that can be commemorated.  In our joy, I do not want to forget the shame of this nation at Wounded Knee.  But I certainly want to remember the glory that was Pau Casals.

Peace.