Month: June 2004

Sunday, June 27th, 2004: I slept in all I could after a night on the floor with little sleep. I met with my tour group at 2 PM and it was a good turnout of about 14 people. I wore my Tecumseh tee-shirt again, very comfortable. We handed out yellow ribbons again as tickets, and also as prayers for the Creator to bring our troops back home sooner and safer. As it turns out, our prayers were heard, in that at 2:26 AM (later that night) the Iraqis were given a marginal self-rule of their country, days before expected. Hopefully that will lead to an earlier resolution of the problems and an earlier return of troops.

It was a windy day, but no rain and lots of sun. I used the bull horn more than Saturday. Everyone especially liked my “Hog sign” lecture about the real meaning of New York. Most of the information on the tour is included in Touring Native New York, the booklet, (Resonance Communications) although I get to add different things each time, depending on what we run into. One thing we ran into today was the Gay Pride Parade. As we stood on the sidelines, I commented that some Algonquin sources indicate a division of genders into many categories, including non-gay transvestites as an important group, separate from gay transvestites, and mentioned that bi-sexuals were considered gifted at resolving husband and wife disputes. Just then, a drag queen strutted by, probably one of the best examples of a drag queen in the entire parade—very feminine but obviously male. I had to stop talking as he/she swished by me, to keep from laughing! The timing was awesome. As I always say, “You can’t pay money for that kind of coincidence!” There has always been at least one such coincidence on each of my tours.

We could not cross at Christopher Street, so we went north and crossed at Fifth Avenue just above #25th. The river of dancers and floats was flowing along the banks of the Manetta Creek. Ironically, synchronistically, that part of the parade turned out to be made up almost entirely of Indigenous dancers from various countries in South America. There was a giant cardinal as well. I encouraged them to watch for ten minutes, although one or two left, and then the actor from Last of the Mohicans walked by; I just saw his back. Then we walked east and in a few minutes were at the powwow grounds of the Munsee, the Kintecoying, “the place where they are dancing.” (now called Astor Place/Cooper Square) I stated that dancing similar to that which we saw in the parade may have occurred here, and that the Wappingers/Canarsie group had South American influences in their culture.

We joined in a circle around the Astor Place Medicine Wheel and sang songs and smudged and did ceremony. No Goddesses came from the West, however. We lost one or two more people who elected to go home, and arrived at St. Mark’s with a strong group of about 7. Suzannah H had made it all the way, as did several others, who said they loved the tour. My feet were tired and hurting, and I didn’t want to move. Later I said to my assistant and professional tour guide Roxy that I had a thought in my mind for Mexican food, and we found Burritoville down the block. We ate there, but I got really sick an hour later, and had such a pain in my stomach that I could hardly walk. It got worse, much as things got worse for the Aztec Emperor Montezuma, as his battle against the Spanish wore on. Somehow his thirst for revenge found its mark in me, even though my sister was at that time in Mexico, and she did not get sick. Perhaps I saved her from certain death through some sort of unintentional shamanic transference. Once I realized this, I passed it on to the spirit world as a healing. Rainbow Hawk, you owe me a Burrito!

60 Minutes was on TV and I was amazed by the stories; someone I knew personally was being interviewed, the inventor of Imclone, the wonder cancer drug. I had performed for the guy’s party when his patent came through. It was “A Tribute to Excellence” and they had “the world’s greatest French Chef,” the “world’s greatest hotel, the Lowell Hotel, a five star joint uptown, and I was “the world’s greatest guitarist.” Expectations were high. I apparently did not disappoint them. The thing that impressed me most was that there was no place to park so a doorman watched my illegally parked pickup truck for four hours! Anyway, after the party and speeches, I went over and talked to the man for whom this honor was being given, and he was very open to talk to me as an equal, and also very respectful, which is not usually the case when entertaining for a dinner party of rich folks, who are inclined to confuse servants with slaves. He explained to me how the drug worked and he was not patronizing. I felt I was finally among a crowd of Renaissance men and women, and by the way the pressed liver from France was superb! It was one of my favorite gigs, everyone was in a good mood; someone had patented a cure for cancer. Well, according to this story, his stock went high and then the FDA turned down his approval and stock went down suddenly. He knew this would happen and told his daughter to sell stock, and he was caught for insider trading. Also, Martha Stewart (his friend not mine) heard from someone inside the FDA that it was getting turned down, and she sold out, and that’s what brought her down. He swears he never mentioned it to her. The reason the FDA turned it down, and this was just after 9-11-01, was for insufficient documentation, a technicality of sorts, but he got mad because it killed the stock value, and made a few mistakes of judgment. He was convicted, the ownership apparently went to the pharmaceutical company, and the FDA approved the deal and now the stock is higher than ever, and he is going to spend several years in jail. It all sounds kind of funny to me, sort of like an ideal situation for the pharm company, and of course I think Conspiracy Theory, what if he KNEW about some secret deal behind 9-11-01 and had to be silenced? You know they always go after us geniuses. On the other hand, he now admits that he did a number of foolish and illegal things. Things you and I would NEVER have done. And therein lies the difference. You have to always be ethical in everything you do. It all comes around. Another story was about how Raytheon, the same people who make V-MADS and space weapons, made the Patriot Missiles, and this story revealed that they didn’t work at all in Desert Storm, only shooting down 4 out of 44 atttemps, and that they often shoot down friendly jets, with friendly pilots inside, our pilots. I think three were shot down in Desert Storm, almost the same number of planes as scud missles, and more in this new war. They never fixed the problem! And since it is all computerized, they can’t stop it. Is that dumb or what? I mean, no Algonquin Indian would create a machine like that! Only Raytheon. That was a story for someone to do more research on! There were other great stories as well, and of course a great bio doc on Michael Moore himself, which was very entertaining, and also revealed the man behind the camera, saying that he is very shy, and “hates having to confront people,” but he’s so successful at it he can’t give it up.

I had some peppermint tea and watched a one-sided Mets-Yanks double header. Hot liquids are not recommended for this, but I didn’t have my health book with me, Prescription for Nutritional Healing. Rice is most recommended, and all sundry vitamins and minerals. Do not take Immodium too soon. Gatorade is the natural impulse, and it is a healthy one.

Saturday, June 26th, 2004: The tour started at 11 AM at the Old Homestead Inn and both Roxy and I ended up arriving a few minutes too late to be fashionable, which I was reminded of at the end of the day when checking my messages, as Alli had called me on her cell phone. We used yellow ribbons as tickets, which I said represented the prayers to the west, the direction of joy and music and dance and the setting sun. It also was intended as a prayer to bring our soldiers safely back from Iraq, according to the European meaning of the yellow ribbon. It also helped us keep track of who paid, in a nice way.

The group was smaller than we had hoped, as several were scared off by the short spring-like rain shower that greeted us at 2:10. It only lasted ten minutes, and I regaled the tour takers with stories about the region, explaining why a rum house might be a very advantageous thing to build near an Indian fort filled with trade goods and food. Such trades were later ruled illegal, as rum tended to render the local natives unable to make wise business decisions. Notably, the tavern was over 100 meters from the fort, the distance a fire-tipped arrow can fly when shot by an angry Lenape the morning after, affected by a wicked hangover and the discovery of an empty wampum bag at his side.

The sun came out and the waters subsided quickly and we were on our way. I showed them the Poe House, built on top of Manetta Creek, and Manetta Tavern, also built on top of the creek, and talked about S.W., the lone woman warrior who took on the big power brokers of New York City to preserve the Poe house as a museum and to save Manetta Creek from being pumped dry, during the building of the foundation of the large building that replaced the Poe House, and to save all the trees in the area from dying of thirst now that Manetta was dry. Later on that night, I was to see her across a crowded room at a fundraiser, and greet her, and tell her what I’d just said to the tour, but more of that story of coincidence later. I showed our tour group the musical mural on West 4th Street, which was enjoyable.

All the people on the tour wanted to go visit the American Indian Community House at 708 Broadway, right off of the Sapohannikan Trail, so we did, and they bought lots of good stuff at the gift shop on the third floor. There was a kind elder native woman at the counter, it may have been Monica Greene, I’m not sure. They had plenty of copies of Native New Yorkers on the shelves, which was good to see. We looked at some of Leota Lone Dog’s pictures of Native New Yorkers from the past. But what was so great about visiting the Community House was that it shows that Native people still live in New York, and in greater numbers than ever, 84,000 strong. The phone number there is (212)598-0100. Website is http://www.aich.org.

We went to the Kintecoy, Cooper Square, and smudged and sang a song for the sun, and from the west there came a line of pagan dancers, beautiful women in beautiful costumes, accompanied by musicians, and they took over the great Medicine Wheel circle on the traffic island, and did a dance ritual for a long time, and we joined forces with them, to the delight of many spectators. My smudge stick was billowing in my hand, and so I walked clockwise around the group of dancers for seven rounds, as the smoke washed over their sinuous bodies flowing with the music. Earlier that day, I had said that the color yellow, music and the great mother come from the west, and indeed it was true at this moment. Everyone was very impressed with the power of those yellow ribbons. It was a great ending to our journey, and so some left, but most of us made it to St. Mark’s Chapel, to view the burial vault of Peter Stuyvesant The flag was at half mast, as if for him, but really from Ronald Reagan, a similar bigoted, but devout saber-rattler from a slightly more recent time. I was kind in my words for Peter, as he brought an end to the Kieft war which had raged for many years.

Then Roxy and I split up, and she went to see the Lesbian Parade down fifth, and I found Union Square, quite by accident and watched an interesting round robin political debate going on, and spoke to a very radical guy named Paul Revere, who had a lot to say, and recommended I read the website http://www.infowars.com. I ran into my old friend Barry, a wild and crazy guy and he gave me a ticket to a fund raiser for Kerry and for We Are the World, and I accepted. I went looking for Roxy, but had missed the parade, so I went to Washington Square Park where the parade ended up, expecting to find her, but though I looked for an hour I did not. It was a festive atmosphere all over town, with crowds of happy people wandering to and fro, almost like Mardi Gras. The beautiful weather added to the good feeling of love and playful rebellion everyone was feeling. In Washington Square Park there was free music everywhere and people with funny signs and buttons and tee shirts. Most prominent was a five girl cheerleader squad who led rather clever group cheers protesting in favor of womens’ rights and other political ends. No Roxy! I thought maybe she met the girl of her dreams.

I ran to find the theater the Webster, where this fundraiser was; it was further than I expected, and was allowed in. There I saw yet more funny skits and slogans and great music by the band Jubilee and Chocolate Thai. They are so good, I saw them sing on a subway car for five minutes a year ago, and gave them money, and recognized them when they appeared on stage. Their islands flavored music is full of positive upbeat feelings, and sung with sincerity. I told them I would plug them and sing their praises in my weblog, and so I am. (I need to find their info to pass along, but its missing. I will fill it in later)

The event was organized by Rick Ulfik of We The World, (not We Are the World, that’s a song) and he was there, although he didn’t remember meeting me at the United Nations for the Gandhi/King event so long ago, so long before 9-11-01. I bought a copy of How to Get Stupid White Men Out of Office from a graceful model-like Indian beauty named Naina who had a great stage presence, and who was director of a youth action political group, and Program Director and Network Coordinator for the League of Pissed Off Voters. (Naina@indyvoter.org) Their slogan is “Revolutionizing Democracy!” She could be President some day! She edited the book, so I had her sign it. She wrote, “For Evan, keep fighting the good fight!” Its published by Soft Skull Press, 71 Bond Street, Brooklyn, NY 11237. (a top radical press) It is an excellent book that sticks to a theme of 20-something youth who get elected to high political positions and make intelligent choices. It is also a book with an attitude, and pretty funny at times. There is a whole chapter on my man Jason West. (No, I didn’t mean it that way, and anyway Jason is not Gay and neither am I). The League of Pissed Off Voters has an office at 226 W 135th St. 4th floor, NY NY 10030. (212)283-8879.

Also there was Alan Shogel, also of We The World, who produced this evenings’ activities. I spoke with a man from Billionaires for Bush, a funny WTO-type theater protest group who arent’ really billionaires but dress like them. They say they rarely get bounced from events, unless they mention Carlyle, and then they go to jail just like everyone else who mentions that word. The fund raiser is for Eleven Days of Global Unity, a good cause; a series of events that will begin on September 13th of this year, at The September Space at 520 8th Ave. at 37th St. 11th floor. Reception is on Monday September 13th at 5 to 8 PM, with live music and refreshments. Check it out at http://www.wetheworld.org/11days. There will be a public signing of the Global Declaration of Interdependence!!!! Talk about being a witness to history!

It was after that I saw S.W. across the room and waved to her, but it took a while for us to make our way through the crowd. She told me she was in Raging Bull and her scene was filmed right in this building and she took me to this old bar and re-enacted her scene for me. She also told me this crazy story about how Robert DiNero was at the bottom of the staircase we were standing on, and she was at the top (where we stood) and said, “So who is this Robert De Neerio anyway?” Apparently they pointed to him and he saluted her, and she got the part. I have to see the movie again and look for her; she was a bit younger. Anyway, after that story she introduced me to “Alice”, and we immediately found we had a lot to talk about, so we all went out to dinner, but that place was closed, so we all ended up finding our way to this no-name Vietnamese place, also synchronistically! We were there well over an hour, and all kinds of speeches were made, and I networked with a ton of interesting people.

Friday, June 25th, 2004: I was in Rhinebeck to see the opening of Michael Moore’s new film Fahrenheit 9-11, with a friend. There had been a 4:00 PM show which we missed. We arrived well before 7:00 but not only had the 7 PM show sold out but all shows for the day. My friend had gone to park the car, I saw the signs, and went back to the street to look for the car, no car, so I went to get a schedule. I had a twenty in my hand. This bald guy says, I got two tickets for the 7 PM show! A single woman said, “I want it, but I’m only one person!” He says, “I can’t sell just one, I gotta sell two. Who wants two! I wave my twenty and say I want two, I want your tickets. He looked to the movie theater officer who was standing there turning people away, and said “Can I do this? I can’t keep the twenty right?” NO! So he gives me some change, which is short but I don’t even count it cause heck its Michael Moore and I’m going to be a witness to history. Only the second showing (in this town, at the historic Rhinebeck Upstate Theater) on the first day outside of the “screening” theaters from this week. Money is not an issue! So my friend shows up, having parked fifty blocks away, and I say, “Here’s the tickets! I scalped em!” And we went in.

The theater made a special announcement that we would all want to talk about this film, but don’t do it during the movie and don’t do it inside the theater afterwards. Everyone go outside, go to a restaurant, and talk. They had already heard of the reaction crowds have to this movie. Every seat was filled with fannies, and the crowd cheered and clapped at all the best places, but not so you’d miss a word. It was all very clear. There were lots of visual innuendos, but no false statements that I could see. A lot of information some leftists have heard before, but assembled to make a powerful statement. The visual juxtapositions were rather funny and maybe unfair, but he left out other damaging material that would have been justified. He hit the target with pleasing this audience and we all gave the blank screen a standing ovation at the end. We didn’t realize it then, but the next day and the next were reports of sell out crowds in red and blue states, as the film went on to gross $26 million in one weekend. What I love about that stat is that it accomplished this while carrying an R rating and showing only in select theaters, while pundits on every channel were trying to do flood control and poo poo the whole thing as a joke. What will happen next week when it hits 2000 more theaters? (That’s a lot of theaters! That’s 400 per state! They’ll have to stage another terrorist attack! I can see it now—code orange! Islamic militants to invade New York to see Michael Moore’s new film!)

NOTE TO READERS: The previous ten days were ten exciting, thrilling, action packed days full of celebrity gossip and front-line derring do. I have it all on tape which is in a secret storage compartment, and I will transcribe it all for you over the weekend, barring another terrorist attack in which John Ashcroft, dressed in a turban, comes to my door demanding Michael Moore tickets.