“Hasanoanda of the great Seneca Nation,” Ely said. “My English name is Ely S. Parker. Pronounced Eee-lee to rhyme with ‘freely,’” he added.
The white man grasped Ely’s hand in both of his own.
“Hasanoanda, Mr. Ely Parker,” Morgan said, “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to meet you. I have a deep interest in the Iroquois. In my hometown, my friends and I have formed a club. We call ourselves the Grand Order of the Iroquois. Many of us, especially myself, wish to learn all we can about the ancient and vanishing ways of your red people.”
“We share a common interest,” Ely said. He held up the book of Cicero’s speeches. “I am interested in the ancient and vanished ways of your white people.”
Morgan shook his head. Then he laughed. “Marvelous,” he said.
Soon he and Ely were talking like old friends. Morgan explained that he was a lawyer, but his visit to Albany was for a different purpose. He’d come to do research in the state library, reading the Indian treaties in the files.
“I’ve been searching for books about the Iroquois, but all I can find are James Fenimore Cooper novels,” Morgan said. “I long for a factual book about the Iroquois. I know so very little about your people.”
Morgan looked at Ely. “I never dreamed I would meet an Indian such as yourself, one who speaks English perfectly and knows the ways of his people.” Morgan paused. “But may I ask why you are here in our state capital?”
Ely told about the meetings with Governor Bouck. Morgan listened with fascination.
“Might I meet your uncle and the other chiefs?” Morgan asked.
Ely looked at Morgan and considered his request. Morgan seemed as sincere, direct, and clear as a child. He was interested in the Iroquois and said he respected them. Morgan was also a lawyer. Perhaps Morgan was a white man who would not just talk about helping the Senecas. A white lawyer could be a great help.
“Yes,” Ely said. “I will arrange for you to meet them this evening.”
Morgan clapped his hands together like a child who had just been promised candy.
“Wonderful!” Morgan said. “Wonderful!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A New White Friend
Morgan came to their room that evening.
Ely introduced Morgan first to his grandfather.
“My grandfather’s name is Sosehawa,” Ely said. “He is the leader of our delegation. He is what you might call the great high priest of the entire Six Nations. He is the nephew of Red Jacket.”
Morgan pointed at the silver medal that hung around Sosehawa’s neck. “I believe I have seen that medal in portraits of Red Jacket. Is that the very medal that president George Washington gave to Red Jacket?”
“It is,” Ely said.
Sosehawa smiled. “Is he admiring my medal?” he said in Seneca. He took the medal off and handed it to Ely. “Tell him that he can hold it and look at it.”
Ely passed the silver medal to Morgan “My grandfather says that you can look at this.”
Morgan’s hands trembled as he held the very large medal. He looked at the side that showed the American eagle with its wings spread wide. He looked at the side that showed a white man and an Indian sharing a pipe. “George Washington ’79” was engraved on the medal. Morgan handed it back carefully.
“Please tell your grandfather,” Morgan said, “that I am greatly honored.”
As Morgan sat with them, he explained that he and his friends had started a club modeled after the Iroquois League. They admired that league and they wanted to know more.
“I have read that your League of the Iroquois was democratic,” Morgan said. “Is that so?”
“That is true,” Ely replied. “Our fifty chiefs were like your senators in Washington. They represented all the people of the Iroquois nations at meetings. The Six Nations always helped each other. They sought peace but were ready to defend their people in war. No one could defeat the Great League of the Six Nations in battle.”
Ely turned to his grandfather. “This white man wishes to know more.”
Sosehawa nodded. He spoke, pausing now and then for Ely to translate. He told the story of how the League came to be. He told how great its power was. When the war between the white brothers started, both sides asked the Iroquois League for help. The League could not agree which side to join. Without an agreement, there could be no decision.
“So the Great Council Fire was covered,” Sosehawa said. “Our Great League did not ally itself with either the British or the Americans.”
Sosehawa paused. “Our new friend listens with his mouth closed,” he said.
“Yes, grandfather,” Ely said.
Sosehawa pointed with his lips at Morgan. “Are you sure he is a white man? Most white men are all mouth. They try to do all the talking when they meet with us. This man actually seems to have two ears.”
“That is true,” Ely said, trying not to laugh.
“What did your grandfather say?” Morgan asked.
“He said you are a good listener.”
“Please ask him to continue,” Morgan said.
Sosehawa went on, telling how things went during the American Revolution. Some Iroquois joined the British. Some joined the Americans. In the battles that followed, Iroquois men fought and killed each other. The union of the Great League was broken.
After the Americans won the war, they forced the chiefs to sign a new treaty. Even the Iroquois who fought for the Americans lost most of their land. All they had left were several small reservations.
It was promised that those reservations would be theirs forever. But now the Ogden Land Company was trying to take the Seneca lands.
Morgan sat nodding his head after Ely finished translating his grandfather’s words.
“I am so sorry,” Morgan said. “It is wrong that the land company wants to take your land. I am a lawyer, and I believe in law and justice for both the white man and the Indian.”
Morgan paused and took a breath. “May I, may I . . . meet with you again?”
As Ely translated Morgan’s words, Sosehawa and the two lesser chiefs looked at each other. Ely saw that they were thinking the same thing that he was thinking. A sympathetic white man who was a lawyer could be a useful friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rising Up
the Rainbow
Ely returned to Yates after his meeting with the Seneca chiefs and the governor. His life was taking some exciting turns, but still he felt sad.
Ely sat alone in the classroom. He dipped his pen in the inkwell. He looked at the sheet of paper on his desk.
“Dear Clara,” he wrote. Then he stopped. He shook his head. He put down the pen. He picked up the piece of paper. He looked at his own neat, clear handwriting. Then he folded the paper in half, folded it again, and placed it in his pocket.
Clara was gone. His missed her smile. He missed her voice and her quick intelligence. But he would not see her again. She would never return to Yates Academy. Her parents would not allow that. It was a month now since she had been taken from school. She was somewhere in Europe with her parents. Any letter he wrote would not reach her.
He thought about what his friends had said to him.
“Parker,” Harry had said. “You have the finest mind of anyone I know. Yes, yes indeed. I think you are as good as any white man. But that is not how some others see you. No, not at all. They only see the color of your skin. When you went for that ride with Clara, they thought you were not staying in your proper place. You were rising above your station. It damaged Clara’s reputation to be seen as your friend. Reputation means everything to some people.”
“Sad but true,” Reuben had added.
Sometimes people whispered as he passed.
“Such a shame about poor Clara.”
“How could Parker be so foolish?”
“How could Parker dare to rise above his station that way?”
“He may be bright, but he is still just an Indian.”
>
He ignored the whispers he overheard. He still went to every class. He was still an excellent student. He still was the best debater. He still gave talks that everyone attended. But his heart was broken.
He thought of the black wolf. He felt like that wolf. He was alone in the world with no companion.
“Parker?”
Ely turned in his chair. Reuben was standing in the doorway of the classroom. He held out a letter.
“For you,” Reuben said. “From a Mr. Morgan.”
Ely opened the letter and smiled as he read it.
My dear Hasanoanda,
I am delighted to tell you that the fellow members of our Society have granted you honorary membership in our Grand Order of the Iroquois. They would be most honored to have you as our guest at the annual meeting of our society in Aurora, New York.
The meeting was scheduled for the end of that month. Ely felt his heart beating faster.
“Yes,” he said to himself. “This is just what I need. I need to be someplace where people are not whispering about me behind my back. It may even help me take my mind off Clara.”
He took out a fresh sheet of paper. He picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkwell.
My dear Mr. Morgan,
Thank you for accepting me into your society. I would be delighted to attend the annual meeting.
Ely traveled to Aurora by coach. Morgan had sent money to pay for his travel. As the coach went down the hill into the town of Aurora, Ely saw the blue waters of Cayuga Lake. The air smelled fresh and sweet. He could not stop smiling. Morgan was waiting for him at the coach stop.
“Hasanoanda,” he said, grasping Ely’s hand. “I cannot express how pleased I am that you are here.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Ely replied. His voice was steady, but he was as excited as Morgan. “I am just as pleased to be here.”
Ely was dressed in the clothing he wore to school. However, he carried a bag with him.
“Is there somewhere I might change my clothes before the meeting?” Ely asked.
Morgan took Ely to his own home. He introduced Ely to his family.
“This is my Seneca friend of whom I have spoken so often. He is Hasanoanda, a young man from a great family. He is surely destined to be a chief of his people.”
Then Morgan showed Ely to the guest room.
“I shall leave you to get ready,” Morgan said.
When Ely came out of the room, he was wearing the clothes he brought with him in the bag. He wore moccasins and a loincloth. A woven belt was tied about his waist and other belts crossed over his broad, bare chest. He wore a feathered cap. He also had on the Red Jacket medal his grandfather had loaned him.
“Father, Father!” Morgan’s children shouted. “Your friend has turned into an Indian.”
Morgan looked embarrassed.
But Ely laughed. “It is all right,” he said. “I am sure that this is what the members of your club wish to see.”
Morgan smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, that is so.”
Indeed, the members of Morgan’s club were delighted.
“He is a real Indian,” one man said in an awed voice.
“A true Iroquois!” another agreed.
The members of the club were even more impressed when Ely spoke. His voice was powerful, his words clear.
“I am Hasanoanda of the Haudenosaunee Nation,” Ely began, “I stand before you as a representative of our Great League. We were here before your country existed. When your ancestors arrived and they were weak, we fed them and helped them survive. My ancestors fought by your side against your enemies. Now we are weak and you are strong. We seek only to survive on our own land. Will you now help us as my ancestors helped yours?”
When Ely finished his speech, there was silence for a moment. Then Morgan rose to his feet, as did all the others. They began to applaud.
“Bravo,” they shouted. “Bravo!”
The next day, Morgan walked Ely to his coach.
“Hasanoanda,” Morgan said, “may I come and visit you at your home?”
Ely hardly knew what to say. No white person before this had ever asked to come to his home. Even his friends Reuben and Harry had never asked to visit him. But Morgan and his club had treated Ely like a prince.
“I will ask my family,” Ely said.
“Thank you, my friend,” Morgan said, shaking Ely’s hand. “Thank you so very much. Or, as your people say, Nya . . . nya:weh. Is that right?”
Ely smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Nya:weh, my friend.”
As soon as Ely reached Yates, he wrote a letter to his brother Nic. He asked if their mother and father would accept a visit from Ely’s white friend.
Nic’s reply came back right away.
My dear brother,
Our parents would be most delighted to have Mr. Morgan visit. Please assure him that, humble though it may be, Mr. Morgan may think of our home as his own.
Ely sat at his desk reading Nic’s letter. It was good news. It was not like the other letter he had received that day from the Indian Civilization Fund.
Ely walked to the window. It was a beautiful day. His friends were out there. So were the other Yates students and the three teachers. They were all walking around and talking with each other. Everyone looked happy and carefree. Only Ely was still inside.
Harry turned and looked Ely’s way. He waved for Ely to come out.
Ely waved back and shook his head.
I am a stranger here. I am an Indian.
Morgan and his club admired him. But most white people did not admire Indians. Indians were less than white men. He had thought it was different at Yates. At first, he had been treated with respect by his teachers and fellow students. But when he made friends with a white girl, that had changed.
Clara, I still miss you. I am sorry for the trouble I caused you.
It would be so much easier to just go home and just be an Indian again. He could help his family by working on their farm. The Ogden Land Company was now sending rough white men to cut down their trees. Some of them came armed with clubs and tried to drive people from their homes.
“I could help fight them,” Ely thought. He pictured himself standing by the side of his brothers against the Ogden ruffians.
Ely shook his head. “No, I must not do that now. I must remain here as long as I can. I came here to become better educated. I can use that education to help my people. They need my help in Albany and Washington to fight the Ogden Land Company.”
Ely bit his lip. “But how long can I remain here?” he thought.
Ely turned away from the window. He sat down again at the desk. He picked up the second letter that contained the bad news from the Indian Civilization Fund. Ely would not be receiving any more money to pay for his schooling.
When the time finally came for Morgan to visit, Ely arranged to leave school and be at home to meet him.
“What you see here,” Ely said to Morgan, “is a real place. It is far different from the novels of James Fenimore Cooper. The five hundred Indians who live here at Tonawanda are mostly farmers growing corn, oats, barley, and wheat. Our people do not make their living as hunters and trappers. Instead of hunting, we have cattle, hogs, and sheep. Most of our forestlands are gone. What woods remain are being logged to provide timber, hemlock bark, and firewood. We have no longhouses. Our people live in log cabins and frame houses.”
“I see,” Morgan said. But he did not seem disappointed.
Ely’s parents, along with his brothers and sisters, welcomed their son’s white friend. Wolf Woman fed him corn soup and venison steak. She told Morgan about the dream she had before Ely was born.
Morgan nodded his head as Ely translated his mother’s words.
“Her dream is coming true, my dear friend,” Morgan said. “You are rising up that rainbow. You are on your way to becoming great in both the world of my people and your own.”
Dragonfly was quieter than his wife. But he showed Morgan things. He had bui
lt a small model of a longhouse so that Morgan could see the way the Senecas used to live. Made of bent sticks and covered with elm bark shingles, the little model had an open doorway at either end. Morgan looked inside.
“Our old longhouses,” Ely said, “were much bigger. Either that or my ancestors were much smaller.”
He and Morgan both laughed at the joke.
“Seriously, my friend,” Morgan said, “how large were these dwellings?”
“Very large indeed,” Ely replied. “Some of them were as much as forty feet wide and two hundred feet long.”
Morgan’s stay lasted several days. On the third day of his visit, Ely and his father took Morgan to a condolence ceremony.
Morgan was in awe as the ceremony took place. Ely explained it all to him in a quiet voice.
“This ceremony is for one of our chiefs who died. A new chief, selected by the women of his clan, is now taking his place. That new chief is being given the name that the old chief held.”
“Shall it be that way for you one day?” Morgan asked. “Will you become a chief that way?”
Ely shook his head. “I cannot say. It is only the women of the clan who decide.”
After the ceremony, Morgan grasped Ely’s arm.
“Hasanoanda, my dear friend,” Morgan said. “If I were to write a book about your people, would you help me?”
“Yes,” Ely said. But he looked worried.
“What is wrong?” Morgan said. “Have I asked too much?”
Ely shook his head. “The Indian Civilization Fund has denied my request for further funds for my education. I shall have to leave Yates Academy.”
To Ely’s surprise, a broad smile came over Morgan’s face. Morgan clapped his hands together. “Wonderful!” Morgan said. “Wonderful.”
Ely was confused.
“Why is my friend glad that I shall have to leave school?” he thought.
Morgan saw the confused look on Ely’s face.
“Hasanoanda,” Morgan said, “It is time for you to leave Yates. There is a far better school for you to attend. Cayuga Academy. And I have spoken with the other members of our Grand Order. They have agreed to sponsor you. We would pay all of your expenses.”
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