MOVIES FOR THE RED MEN

Movies FOR THE RED MAN BY NAT MCKELVEY

Beyond the red glare of a camp fire, a small band of Indians gathered recently to watch a motion picture. The locale was Chinle on the Navajo Reservation of northern Arizona. It might have been Ganado, Indian Wells, Shanto Springs or any other place inside the vast cantonment.

No Hollywood actors participated in the 16 mm color film. Nor was it a picture of melodramatic action against a background of adventure. It was not entertainment in any sense, yet the Indian audience watched and listened eagerly as the sound track released a babble strange to the ears of most white men.

Entitled "Trail to Health," the picture told the story of tuberculosis and how the Redman can prevent it, combat it, and ultimately recover from it. To Indian onlookers, the film was most effective because the actors were Indians like themselves and the language was their own cherished Navajo.

An Indian Service health educator, Miss Mary Best, projected the film against a most unlikely screen, the broad side of a mobile X-ray unit truck.

"The Indian audience," Miss Best said later, "sat almost in reverence and complete silence. At the end of the showing, individuals came up to me and expressed great appreciation for the privilege of seeing it.

"After the show, I noticed one man who kept watching me. He was the head man of the group. I began to worry because-cause I felt he was going to make some adverse criticism. Through an interpreter, he said to me: 'Indians don't like Indians to tell them what to do. They want white people to tell them. When the picture is in our own language, we can understand things we need to know. Please come back with more pictures like this one.'"

Today, Arizona's Indians are moving toward healthier, more prosperous lives because of motion pictures that they themselves have helped produce.

Behind this new use of visual education, squarely stands the energetic figure of Fred C. Clark, Jr. In 1939, as an employee of the Indian Irrigation Service in New Mexico, Clark shot some pictures that were progenitors of a current program of movies designed to help the Indians help themselves.

Ten years ago while working on construction of government dams at Zuñi, New Mexico, Clark snapped a series of photographs to show project progress. He sent these films to the Department of Interior, in Washington. The pictures so pleased C. H. Southworth, a department executive, that he sent Clark a 16 mm motion picture camera with instructions to "carry on the good work." For the Irrigation Service, Clark made several movies, showing the effect on Indian existence of irrigation projects.

In 1946, after a stint of three and a half years in the photo-graphic section of the Army Signal Corps, Clark, returned to

PHOTOGRAPHS BY TAD NICHOLS

the Indian Service. At Santa Fe, he organized the first educa-tional film laboratory for full-time production of movies to educate Indians in better techniques of living.

First of these post-war pictures was the tuberculosis film, for T.B. has been a formidable killer among Indians. To show them the insidious methods of this disease, Clark hired a young Indian boy as his “star.” The picture opens with the young chap stricken and be-wildered. It shows him being X-rayed at one of the Indian hospitals which exist in Tucson, Phoenix, Winslow, Ft. Defi-ance, Albuquerque and elsewhere. The X-ray is positive, and a white doctor tells the lad that he should go to the sanatorium.

“You will be among friends, among your own people,” the doctor assures the frightened boy. “You will get good food, plenty of rest. As soon as you feel better, you may return to your home and family. If you do as we say, you will again be able to chop wood, herd sheep, and ride your favorite pony.” The Indian boy does not die. He chooses the white man's method, recovers, and returns joyfully to his people.

Most effective use of this film is made in conjunction with a travelling X-ray unit which probes the most remote corners of Navajo country and of practically every other Indian reservation in western United States. Medical technicians and health educators such as Miss Mary Best project the film against the X-ray truck. After the program, the Indians receive pamphlets supporting the film. Written in both English and Navajo and illustrated with stills from the picture, these pamphlets act as constant reminders, summarizing the lesson for the Indians.

At the show's end, most of the Indians have absolutely no reluctance in filing through the mobile X-ray unit for a chest picture. The movie has “sold” them on the advantages of early detection and treatment of tuberculosis.

So successful is this movie that Clark has received laudatory letters from the National Tuberculosis Association in Washington, D. C. More concretely, the organization has purchased a number of prints for showing throughout the United States and Hawaii, and has even suggested adding a Spanish sound track for use in Latin America.

Clark would like to do this, but he feels that, at present. he must devote all his time and limited facilities to films for the Indians. In “A Birth Certificate Tells the Facts,” for instance, he shows the Navajo why an Indian mother should register her child at birth. When she records the youngster's name at the nearest Indian Agency, or Indian Service hospital. she makes it possible for him to later receive more easily, such benefits as Railroad retirement which requires definite proof of age. Even more important to the Indian than birth certificates, is his means of livelihood. For the Navajo, especially, this means production of sheep for lambs and wool. Naturally, the Indian sheepman is intrigued by Clark's film, “More Money from Wool.” Traditionally inefficient by white men's standards, the Indian herdsman has for generations cheated himself of the maximum gain from his wool crop. Many Indians who have not had a chance to learn simply tie a sheep, throw it on the dirty corral floor and shear the wool willy-nilly. All wool. black and white, he tosses together and sacks up with what-ever dirt, sand and gravel adheres to it. “For such a mixture,” the traders say, “we cannot pay top price. We must sort, clean, and grade the stuff, and this extra work costs us time and money.” “More Money From Wool” shows the Indian the logic of placing a clean tarpaulin on the ground where he plans to shear. It shows him how to hold the sheep off the ground and how to clip the wool in a long continuous piece. It teaches him to tie fleece in a bundle, so that the wool stays together. If the Navajo merely bundles his fleece he will receive at least Two cents more a pound for his wool crop. By roughly grading his wool, he can still better his bar-gaining position. So the picture teaches him to put fine white fleece in one stack, coarse white wool in a second, colored fleece in another, and dirty tag ends in yet another.

If the Indian effectively handles his wool crop. the film tells him, to expect more money from the trader. At the same time, it sells the trader the idea that he should pay more for this superior product.

When mechanical shearers are practical on the Navajo Reservation, Clark hopes to produce a supplementary sheep film showing the Indians how to use this modern invention.

The theme of modern methods reaches the Indian through other films produced by the Indian Service Educational Film Lab. “A New Frontier” tells the story of 100.000 acres of unusually rich bottom land which has never felt a plow. Located along the Colorado River in western Arizona, this land is awakening to the industry and courage of a small group of Indian pioneers who had the strength and foresight to break away from their old customs to start life in an area which can make them completely independent.

Seeing this film, which depicts a new Eden carved from barren desert by their own peoples, other Indians will find the courage to better themselves economically.

Lessons in economic improvement form the backbone of two more pictures released by the Educational Film Laboratory. “Indian Forests of the Southwest” teaches scientific forestry to Navajos and Apaches in the White Mountain country of eastern Arizona. They learn to cut trees only as fast as they grow, to conserve forest cover as protection for grazing land, to use trees in prevention of erosion and to furnish refuge for game and fish.

“To help make cattlemen of the Indian,” Clark relates, “we produced “The Indian Cowboy,' a picture that had its roots in a major disaster to the white man.” In 1934, a protracted drought ruined thousands of white cattle growers, and beef production slumped disastrously. To save destitute white cattlemen and to help the Indian, the federal government stepped in.

It bought dying drought-stricken cattle from white men and then loaned them to the Indians in return for their promise to pay back a calf, equal in quality, for every animal borrowed. How some tribes ran this “shoestring into a tannery” is the substance of “Indian Cowboy,” a film that shows other Indians how the reimbursable cattle program can lead many of them to security.

In the beginning, production of these motion pictures was a one man show. “I had to do everything myself,” Clark explains. “I promoted funds, borrowed equipment, shot the films, edited them, put sound on them, and even exhibited them.” Today, as director of the Education Film Laboratory for the United States Indian Service, Clark is engaged in a program which ultimately and purposely will entirely abolish the Indian Service.

“These pictures,” the director says, “are correlated with over-all Indian Service programs. Through them, we hope to help bring the Indians to a point of self-sufficiency where they will no longer need our services. We are trying to integrate Indians generally into American society."

Through these special films, the Indian can acquire some of the knowledge that will eventually help him to achieve the level of his surroundings in health, economy, and education. Motion pictures are an effective tool in the Indian Service program because the Indian can understand what he sees, particularly when the lesson is presented by Indian actors, speaking in their native tongues.

Success of such an ambitious undertaking rests in the capable hands of a very small organization. Nothing comparable to Hollywood's millions backs the efforts of the Educational Film Laboratory. Each year it turns out four or five two-reel films at a small fraction of commercial cost.

Small but effective, the staff includes cameraman Don Morrow from Texas: Tad Nichols, cameraman from Tucson, a clerk and a part time assistant.

In New York, a commercial producer who saw the tuberculosis film would not believe that it had been produced for less than $4,000.

"To do a comparable job," he commented, "we would have to charge more than $20,000."

When most of America's 400,000 Indians have seen the T.B. film, the Indian Service will have taught them the important lesson for less than one cent per Indian.

Versatility is one of the money-saving secrets of Clark's organization. Each employee is trained in all phases of production. No specialized technicians sit around drawing pay, as in Hollywood, while waiting for their particular specialty to be needed.

From a tiny room fifteen by twenty feet, on the grounds of the Indian School at Santa Fe, Clark's small staff does research, script writing, photography, animation and editing. Only sound tracks, optical effects and printing are subcontracted to a commercial laboratory.

In Kansas City, the Calvin Company puts sound on Indian Service films. Howard Gorman, Navajo councilman, travels to Missouri and speaks in his native language the lines that will ultimately help his people improve their way of life.

Navajo sound tracks eliminate use of an interpreter who might become confused, trying to translate important points quickly and verbatim. Navajo rather than Hopi or Apache is used because the Navajo tribe has the greatest number of non-English speaking Indians. For other tribes, an English sound track is usually adequate.

From start to finish the production of an Indian film follows a carefully established pattern. Often Indian Service field men and Indians themselves suggest a film be made to help solve a particular problem. Division Directors of the Bureau in turn request Clark to discuss these problems with the field in an effort to formulate them in a way that can best be expressed in motion pictures. Willard W. Beatty, director of Indian Education, coordinates the work.

Frequently, reservation people want to include too much in the films. On the sheep project, they wanted two reels of sheep being sheared by mechanical means, not available to the Navajos. One of Clark's problems is to prepare a presentation that the Indians can understand and apply to their own situation.

Once chosen, a film subject receives the best technical help the Indian Service can muster from its organization. On the tuberculosis film, a government T.B. specialist acted as technical advisor and an expert from the Ft. Wingate sheep experimental laboratory helped with the sheep shearing picture.

Many organizations sponsor these films. Some assignments come from such Interior Department branches as Extension and Industry, Forestry and Grazing, Education, Irrigation, and Health. The Fish and Wildlife Service, Public Health Service and state health services utilize the Indian Service film laboratory for pictures involving Indian problems.

Finished films are deposited in the Visual Aids Library of the Indian Service at famous Haskell Institute, Lawrence, Kansas. Haskell Institute distributes them to Indian schools and reservations. Because of limiting budgets there are not enough copies of films to meet increasing demands from Indians themselves, so there is no free loan service to film users outside the organization.

Persistent demands for these films, however, has started a small distribution program which allows educational institutions and libraries to purchase the films at cost from the government contractor. This non-profit service has met with immediate success. Today, the "River People" can be found in the Cleveland Public library, the "Desert People" in Austria, and the "Corn Dancers" in the Brooklyn Museum.

Some films designed to teach Indians double as education for white men. Made on the Gila River, "The River People," dealing with Pima Indians, is a powerful documentary of this kind.

For years, the Pima people made a good living from the friendly soil of the Gila Valley. But the white man came along, diverted all the water upstream, depriving the Indian of his traditional supply, forcing him into alien jobs such as wood cutting and wage work. The Indian protested. Hearing the Indians' plaint, the government created the Coolidge Dam project, supplying both Indians and their white neighbors with water, helping both to achieve economic health. Graph-