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Save a Museum




Is there a national “Support Your Local Museum” Week?

I don’t know, so I’ll just say this today. Shame on you if you’re not already doing it.

In our travels around South Dakota, we’ve come to believe that there is no group that works any harder for their communities than the ragtag little group of folks who try to protect, conserve and hoard our history and culture. And they do it with little or no pay, recognition or glory.

Somehow they just operate from an innate feeling (gut feeling, they would explain) that saving Jack Sully’s revolver, Governor Mellette’s winding stairway or Wild Bill Hickok’s third gravestone is important to our future.

Not our past. Our future.

I thought of this on Saturday afternoon when my son, Chris, and I were driving to Valley Springs to buy an old snooker table. We were pulling a borrowed trailer that didn’t have current license plates, so we thought it would be safer to drive the backroads so as not to infringe upon the workload of the already overburdened State Highway Patrol.

That placed us on 272nd Street through the no-longer-so-little city of Tea. The community now has 3,800 people. We were happy to see that the Tea Steak House is still going strong, and we also passed a sign pointing to the town’s museum.

The median age in Tea might be the youngest in the Midwest, so it’s particularly encouraging to see that the museum bug has bitten there. The Tea Historical Society will grow in importance with every passing year.

Here in Yankton, the local museum is working to restore the Mead Building on the historic state hospital campus where Jack McCall was hung in 1877. Historians are collecting tractors in Kimball and shoes in Webster, among many other things. On Wednesday of this week they’ll meet in the Moody County Extension Building in Flandreau to talk about preserving country schools.

God, Family, Life, Death and Taxes come first. But beyond those priorities, preserving our stories should rank fairly high. And we’re glad to see that it does in Tea and countless other South Dakota towns.

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Norbeck’s Home In Need

Can one man make a difference? Consider Peter Norbeck, the burly well driller who became arguably our greatest leader.

Norbeck held a rare distinction among politicians — he never lost an election. Born in 1870, Norbeck rose from a Clay County dugout to become the state’s first native-born governor and a three-term U.S. senator. His family moved from Clay County to Charles Mix County when his father, a preacher, decided to build a new church at Bloomington, about 7 miles southeast of Platte.

His childhood home was donated to the Geddes historical society and now sits in the Historic Village in Geddes. Geddes leaders hope to raise $40,000 to make repairs on the house including shingles, repairing the foundation and floor, replacing windows and sheetrock.

As a progressive Republican, Norbeck became lieutenant governor after three terms in the state senate. He worked on important legislation that protected deposits in banks operating under state charters. As governor, he spearheaded the building of bridges across the Missouri and a state highway system. He created a rural credit program and made progress on workman’s comp laws. He established the state cement plant and the passage of state hail insurance. He even investigated hydroelectric development on the Missouri long before the dams were built.

Some of Norbeck’s most remarkable legacies had little to do with these progressive endeavors. In 1912, five years before becoming governor, he spearheaded the effort to establish a game preserve in the Black Hills. As governor he expanded on that idea, creating a legacy that South Dakotans still share. In 1919 Norbeck proposed the creation of a state park board to develop Custer State Park.

The park was one of the largest in the nation, but it nearly doubled in size, to over 70,000 acres, when Norbeck decided he wanted to include the Sylvan Lake/Needles/Harney Peak area, which was a part of the Harney National Forest. Norbeck asked Representative Harry Gandy of Rapid City to introduce a bill in Congress to transfer the land from federal to state control.

Custer State Park was just part of Norbeck’s vision for the Black Hills. He and highway engineers C.C. Gideon and Scovell Johnson explored the rugged terrain on horseback and on foot, seeking a route from the game preserve, through the Needles to Harney Peak. His pants torn, legs scratched and bleeding, the 240-pound governor collapsed on a log to catch his breath. “Can you build a road through there?” he asked Johnson. “If you can furnish me enough dynamite,” the engineer said.

Norbeck supplied 150,000 pounds of war-surplus blast and Johnson created 14 miles of perhaps the most scenic road in the West. Jessie Sundstrom wrote in her history of Custer State Park that when new road signs arrived announcing the highway, they read “Needless Highway.” Was it bad spelling or a prank? No one knows, but, “Johnson lost no time in scraping off the offending last “S” with his pocket knife.”

Norbeck also was a huge supporter of building Mount Rushmore, and secured much early financing for Gutzon Borglum. Norbeck had a say in Rushmore’s development. It was his suggestion to include his hero, Teddy Roosevelt, among the four presidents.

A plaque dedicated to Norbeck’s memory stands beside Iron Mountain Road in Custer State Park. Located first on the roster of his many achievements is well driller.

Using rigs of his own design, Norbeck dug over 10,000 water wells. Our writer Roger Holtzmann wrote in the Nov/Dec 1998 issue of the South Dakota Magazine:

“To dig a well might not, at first glance, seem like much of an accomplishment in comparison to becoming governor. Yet it would be difficult to overstate the significance of that humble hole in the ground. On many farms and ranches where he worked, the abundant water from one of Norbeck’s deep artesian wells was literally the difference between prosperity and just getting by — between moving on and staying put to build lives and families and communities.”

Norbeck was a visionary who worked as only a pioneer well driller could work to build a better South Dakota. We will benefit from his public service for as long as people call themselves South Dakotans.

If you think his childhood home should be preserved, you may want to support the Norbeck house project in Geddes. Contact CMCHRS, Box 132, Geddes, S.D. 57342.

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A Village Begun by Old Papineau

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2008 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.


Every town has someone who knows its history. In Geddes, it’s Ron Dufek. By day he runs Duf’s Amoco, but he’s also the town historian and caretaker of the Geddes Historical Village.

The village started in 1971 when Dufek, Vern Burnham and others decided to move the old Papineau Trading Post into town.”The city fathers were against it,” Dufek recalled.”We had to promise an arm and a leg to get it in here. We had one year to get it looking good.”

They succeeded, and other items followed, including part of the quaint WNAX gas station. Yankton businessman D. B. Gurney created”fair price” gas stations in the 1930s and sold gas for as little as 17 cents per gallon.

Students in Jackson Township, southwest of Geddes, attended the red, white and blue schoolhouse from 1901 to 1948.”Patriotic immigrants who loved their country” built the school and give it its unique color scheme, Dufek said. In 1960 Jackson Township bought the school and gave it to the Charles Mix County Historical Restoration Society. It was moved into the village in 1975.

A collection of small, white tombstones from the DuCharme Cemetery sits next to the trading post. One legend says the cemetery, which sat near the post’s original location, was where colorful fur trader Cuthbert DuCharme, also known as Old Papineau, buried all the people he killed. It held 27 men, women and children who died between 1869 and 1895. After Fort Randall Dam was built in the 1950s, the Missouri River’s new flow washed the cemetery away. The Army Corps of Engineers removed the remains and interred them at different locations. In many cases the original grave markers were left. They were added to the village in 1984.

When the childhood home of popular governor Peter Norbeck was deteriorating and about to be demolished, Dufek and Burnham intervened.”I just jumped right on it. One thing led to another and they gave it to us,” Dufek recalled. The home was moved into the village shortly before the South Dakota centennial in 1989.

The newest additions to the village include part of a replica Lewis & Clark keelboat and a claim shanty. The boat was built in Omaha for the bicentennial celebration of Lewis & Clark’s expedition in 2004.

Homesteader Charles Phillips moved to Dakota Territory from Kansas in 1883 and built the claim shanty around 1900. His nephew, William Phillips, donated the building to the historical society and it became part of the village in 2007.

Dufek plans to keep growing the village.”Maybe we’ll get it done if I last long enough,” he chuckled.

To learn more about the village, or to arrange a tour, visit the Geddes Historic Village website or call Duf’s Amoco at 605-337-2501.

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Reminders of Our Outlaw Days

Every region has favorite outlaws and villains but few have the outlaw-rich history of Dakota Territory and South Dakota.

Those who came to Dakota Territory were either bravely adventurous or very desperate. The faint of heart did not leave family, friends and comforts of home for a dangerous and uncertain existence. South Dakota remains the center of the American frontier, and we are surrounded by remnants and reminders of territorial history.

Furthermore, descendants of some of our most colorful characters still live here. Last year I helped write a South Dakota Magazine article on outlaws. We featured a man who had lured investors to the Hills by switching mineral samples. The suckers realized they had been duped when miners processed 3,000 tons of ore and extracted only $5 in gold. It’s a good story, but one of our readers took offense. “My grandfather was not a crook!” wrote a nice lady from West River. It turns out her ancestor was also a pillar of the Rapid City community.

Other reminders of our outlaw past remain in every corner of the state. In Geddes the cabin of fur trader Cuthbert DuCharme sits in the city park. DuCharme, called “Old Paps” because of a talent for whiskey-making (Papineau is French for whiskey), lived along the banks of the Missouri River. His roadhouse boomed when Fort Randall was established, and wild parties were held every night.

On the other side of the state, a tree used for hanging three accused horse thieves still stands on Skyline Drive in Rapid City. The tree died long ago, but the trunk is now embedded in concrete, a grey reminder of an era when hangings were punishment for a crime that might not merit a prison sentence today.

One of those killed that night was a teenager. His two traveling companions admitted their guilt, but declared to the very end that the boy was innocent. Some Rapid Citians felt there was a curse on their city because of the boy’s hanging.

Yes, our past is hard to escape. A new gravestone now marks the Gregory County burial site of Jack Sully, the famous Robin Hood of the Rosebud country. The shackles worn by Lame Johnny on his last stagecoach ride (vigilantes stopped the coach and hanged him) are now split between the State Historical Society in Pierre and the 1881 Custer Courthouse Museum. Potato Creek Johnny’s 7.75 ounce gold nugget can be seen at the Adams Museum in Deadwood. And you can still sleep at Poker Alice’s house in Sturgis.


Reminders of our outlaw history are all around. South Dakota Magazine recently published a book, South Dakota Outlaws and Scofflaws, about the colorful characters who settled Dakota Territory. The book also points readers to historical places that can still be visited today — like Old Pap’s cabin and the hanging tree. For more information, call us at 1-800- 456-5117.


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A Cool Collection

Scenes from Platte’s past are now available for online viewing, thanks to the South Dakota State Historical Society. They partnered with the National Film Preservation Foundation to preserve and share short silent films by Lawrence H. Cool, a Platte resident in the 1930s. The snippets of Charles Mix County activity include a visit from Governor William J. Bulow, the construction of the Lake Platte spillway and a parade through town. (If the float banners are to believed, Geddes was in big trouble.)

View these slices of life at the South Dakota Digital Archives.

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Is There a Pilgrim in Your Family Tree?

Many South Dakotans trace their heritage to the tens of thousands of Norwegians, Swedes, Finns, Czechs and Germans who first laid eyes on America in the late 19th century, when they left their homes to settle what was then a vast prairie wilderness. But a few among us have been here a bit longer — 392 years to be precise.

About 250 South Dakotans have proven they are descended from one or more of the 102 men and women who sailed the Atlantic Ocean aboard the Mayflower and arrived at Plymouth in 1620. They are members of the South Dakota Chapter of the Mayflower Society. Today there are over 10 million Mayflower descendants scattered around the world. There may be many more who can claim to be descendants but who fear the daunting work of tracing their genealogy through four centuries. But it’s never been easier.

Margaret Bobertz is the group’s historian. She’s traced her family to Mayflower passengers Myles Standish, John Alden, Richard Warren and Henry Samson. Her family arrived in South Dakota in 1950, when her father came from New Jersey to attend law school, and then opened a private practice in Platte. Bobertz still lives there. She owns a consulting firm called the Thule Group.

When South Dakota’s Mayflower Society formed in 1956, proving you belonged meant sifting through pension and census records and birth, marriage and death certificates. They were often scattered around the country, and sometimes difficult to find.”If people moved West, the records didn’t always follow,” Bobertz says.

More and more records are finding their way online. Plus, a series of recently published books called The Mayflower Families traces the Pilgrims and their descendants through five generations.”When I started you had to write a letter just to find how much a birth certificate cost. It took forever,” she says.”I think I probably make more progress in one year than I did in 15 before computers.”

Of course research still involves visits to courthouses and library archives, but in general it’s much easier. That may be why the society has seen a steady uptick in members.

“A lot more people can [prove their lineage] than do,” Bobertz says.”I’m surprised. We have every year 10 or 12 people in the state that we add to our rolls, and it’s always amazing where they come from. People who didn’t think they qualified, but somebody married somebody, who married somebody, and we can verify it.”

If you think your family tree might start aboard the Mayflower, or if you’ve been stymied in your own research, Bobertz is willing to help. Just call (605) 337-3737 or e-mail sdmf@midstatesd.net.

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Christmas at the Poor House

History tells us that memories of hardships will fade with time, but kindnesses shown are long remembered.

In the 1930s, down-on-their-luck families sometimes lodged in county poor farms. Herschel and Hilda McKnight ran the Charles Mix County Home for the Poor in those years. It was housed in a four-story building that was once the Ward Academy in Academy, S.D., south of Mitchell. Before her death, Hilda told of her experiences to Marian Cramer, a Bryant farmwife and teacher who has written several articles for South Dakota Magazine.

Several times through the years, we’ve related Hilda’s story of a 14-year-old girl’s Christmas at the Home for the Poor. Here’s an abbreviated version.

Hilda said she always remembered the day that Carol arrived with her mother.”It was never easy to welcome people to a poor house. Herschel moved quickly to the door and opened it. He had a special way of putting people at ease.”

The McKnights strived to provide clothing so the kids wouldn’t look out-of-place at school. The mothers and two WPA seamstresses sewed and repaired donated clothing. Carol befriended the McKnights and offered to help in the laundry and sewing room as well. But one day in the fall she told Hilda,”I know how hard you and Mr. Mac worked to get us nice clothes. It really doesn’t matter, I guess. I have this lovely skirt and they still call us ‘poor house kids’ at school.”

Hilda gave Carol a hug, and to hide her tears she fussed with a missionary barrel that had just been delivered from a church in the East.”Let’s see what treasures we can find,” she said. Together, they laughed as they pulled out wool pants with the seat worn thin, a pair of long underwear with holes in the knees and elbows, and other useless things. But way at the bottom, Carol pulled out a chiffon scarf. Though threadbare, it seemed lovely to her eyes.

“Would you like to keep it?” asked Hilda. Carol’s answer was to hold it closely and nod. The scarf was her doorway to dreams. She would sit on her bed and finger the soft chiffon. She was not in the Charles Mix County Home for the Poor. She was far away. She always neatly folded her scarf and put it away.

The holidays came in 1933 despite the dust. Hilda and the women baked cookies and decorated the poor house with paper chains. The county allowed one clothing gift for each resident, so the McKnights shopped carefully to make it worthwhile.

A few days before Christmas, Carol tapped on the McKnights’ door.”You have been so busy for all of us, but you won’t have any Christmas presents, any Christmas,” she said.

Hilda assured the girl that they would celebrate Christmas together as one big family.”You are all our family, Carol. We are happy.”

On Christmas morning, Carol hesitantly returned to the McKnights’ room. First, she approached Herschel.”I don’t have a present for you,” she said.”Just a hug.” Herschel was a big man, and he enfolded the slim girl in his arms.

Then Carol said,”Mrs. Mac, I have something for you.” She handed Hilda a box wrapped in paper, and watched like a hawk as she untied the string. Beneath the crackling paper was the girl’s chiffon scarf.

Hilda fought back tears as she fingered its softness.

“It’s all I have, Mrs. Mac,” Carol said.

Hilda told our writer that she treasured it forever:”The frayed chiffon scarf is forever my symbol of Christmas and a true gift of love.”

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Saving Their Language

Speakers try to revive Lakota and Dakota before they disappear

Red Cloud Elementary School teacher Fred Stands helps third-graders learn Lakota.


Albert White Hat spoke Lakota for the first 16 years of his life, but that ended the day he walked into the Jesuit-run boarding school in St. Francis on the Rosebud Indian Reservation.”I came from a community where we sang and danced and did everything in our language,” White Hat recalls.”I walked in that institution and my peers were making fun of us, the ones from the country, for being big Indians, savages. And they were all Indian kids. Many years later I found out they had been in that institution since they were 5. By the time they were teenagers they were conditioned to deny their Indian heritage.”

That was in the early 1950s, the decade in which the Lakota language began disappearing. Today just 14 percent of Indians living on reservations in North Dakota and South Dakota speak Lakota, according to 2000 census figures. And estimates suggest the number has dropped another 25 percent in the last eight years.

Lakota’s official status is”endangered,” according to David Rood, a professor and linguist at the University of Colorado in Boulder and the country’s leading Lakota scholar. There are between 8,000 and 9,000 speakers, but they are growing older. In 1993 the average age of Lakota speakers was about 50. Today it is 65. In those 18 years, fewer children learned Lakota. When fluent elders die, there are no speakers to replace them.”The transmission is broken,” Rood says.

That perilous situation has prompted a movement to create a new generation of Lakota speakers. In South Dakota, Lakota is spoken by seven tribes who live on the Pine Ridge, Rosebud, Cheyenne River, Standing Rock and Lower Brule reservations. Dakota, which is closely related to Lakota, is spoken on East River reservations and is split into two dialects — Santee (Sisseton) and Yankton. Most serious preservation efforts occurred in the last 15 years. In the 1990s several tribal councils adopted resolutions declaring Lakota their official language and required schools to teach it. But White Hat has been trying to save the language for nearly 60 years.

He was raised at Spring Creek, a small community of five or six families on the Rosebud. Children learned Lakota ways, and spent winter evenings listening to storytellers explain Lakota history, culture and spirituality using the Lakota language. But in the early 1950s the tribe adopted the state’s education standards, which said nothing about Lakota studies. When his children started school in the Todd County district in the late 1960s, White Hat lobbied for a Lakota language and history program.

Albert White Hat, Lakota speaker and instructor.

“They really gave me a bad time,” he says.”None of them would accept it. They laughed at me. Finally in 1970, they said, ‘You can have a half an hour during noon hour to play your tape and dance.'”

Soon White Hat was teaching Lakota studies part time at St. Francis and Sinte Gleska University, which opened in 1971, even though he knew little about teaching. He had no books and learned how to formulate lesson plans from colleagues. The university hired him full time in 1983.

The Lakota Language Consortium’s goal is to make children on Dakota reservations fluent in Lakota by eighth grade. The consortium, headquartered at the University of Indiana, formed in 2004 when schools on the Pine Ridge reservation teamed with the university to preserve Lakota. The organization helps train teachers and provides textbooks, materials and assessment. The immediate focus is on Native children, but they also work with schools in Rapid City and Sioux Falls. Executive director Wilhelm Meya hopes it fosters reconciliation.

“A lot of people over the last 30 or 40 years have been going through the schools and coming out when they’re 18 and not knowing the language. And they’re very disappointed about that,” says Meya, a native of Austria who became the first non-Indian to earn a Lakota studies degree at Oglala Lakota College.”They’ve been told every day to be proud to be Lakota, but no one ever taught them to speak it. So there’s a frustration there.”

There are plenty of children to teach. Lakota and Dakota people are among the fastest growing populations in the country. In 2000 the population was around 100,000 with half under 18, and it could reach 160,000 by 2025.

In addition to textbooks, the consortium produces audio CDs and flash cards. Staff test more than 6,000 children every fall and spring and monitor progress by reading reports from people like Sacheen Whitetail Cross, tribal education manager for the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe.

Standing Rock plunged into a language revitalization program in 2007. The tribe spent $108,000 on teaching materials for six of the reservation’s nine public, grant and parochial schools and organized the first Lakota Summer Institute, a three-week course in which K-12 Lakota teachers learn new activities and methods.

Whitetail Cross organizes the institute and keeps tabs on students. She’s also developing Lakota language games.”I get so excited when I see kids speaking,” she says.”Right now it’s mostly high school students, but I can’t wait to see the young ones begin to use it. It is going to be so empowering to them.”

Revitalization is important on all reservations, but particularly on Standing Rock. Only 13 percent of its residents speak Lakota, the second lowest of South Dakota’s West River reservations behind Lower Brule (4 percent). Cheyenne River has 18 percent, followed by Rosebud (21 percent) and Pine Ridge (26 percent).

Fewer people on East River reservations speak Dakota. The Lake Traverse reservation has just 6 percent, Yankton 10 percent and Crow Creek 12 percent. Diane Merrick, a teacher at Marty Indian School and Ihanktonwan Community College on the Yankton reservation, says most Dakota speakers there (a little over 200 people) have limited knowledge of the language. She estimates only 28 people on the reservation are fluent.

“You get a little excited and nervous,” Merrick says about her language’s tenuous situation.”Language is very central to who we are. It’s a part of our cultural identity. Reaching out in any way we can with our language is very important.”

Merrick coordinates the Dakota language program at Marty and has taught at the college for 12 years, though she never planned on teaching. She has a degree in alcohol and drug abuse studies, but because she is one of the few remaining fluent Dakota speakers in the area, the college asked if she would teach the language. Merrick grew up in a traditional Dakota family on the reservation. Dakota was her first language until her family moved to Yankton when she was 6. She also offers online Dakota language lessons through the Native American Community Women’s Resource Center in Lake Andes (www.nativeshop.org).

Her main focus is teaching elementary students. Every day, students in kindergarten through fifth grade receive a 30-minute language lesson that covers basics like colors, days of the week and months. There is also a morning meditation, flag song and greeting. During the summer Merrick leads an immersion school for children ages 3 to 5. When those children enter Marty elementary, they are a step ahead.”We have a lot of hope that those are the kids who will work toward fluency,” she says.

“I came from a community where we sang and danced and did everything in our language. I walked in that institution and my peers were making fun of us, the ones from the country, for being big Indians, savages.”

Parents are appreciative and often motivated to learn Dakota by enrolling in her college-level Dakota classes.”Many times students will say they just need the four credits to graduate,” Merrick says.”More and more the students are parents and young people who really want to learn their language. It’s important to them.”

In addition to tribal efforts, Leonard Little Finger hopes students will soon attend his private Lakota language immersion school near Oglala on the Pine Ridge reservation. Little Finger dedicated the Sacred Hoop School (Cangleska Wakan Owayawa) last summer.

“It’s a dedication to the ancestry that I come from,” says Little Finger, a co-founder of the Lakota Language Consortium.”It also honors my heritage.” Little Finger’s great-great-grandfather was Chief Big Foot, a signer of the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty and leader of the band killed at the Wounded Knee Massacre in December 1890. His grandfather, John Little Finger, survived the massacre by hiding in a ravine. He settled on land where the Sacred Hoop School now stands.

Little Finger grew up on Pine Ridge. He left to attend school and work for the Indian Health Service in Aberdeen, but he returned after the 1973 Wounded Knee occupation.”Nobody wanted to come down to Pine Ridge as an administrator,” he says.”I was from there, and my folks still lived there, so I decided to come back.”

After he retired in 1995, Little Finger joined the language revitalization movement.”Since my first language was Lakota, I felt that whatever years were left of my life I would spend teaching in a regular school,” he says.”But I found that the type of teaching that was needed to transfer a language was not possible, particularly because of the No Child Left Behind Act. So reluctantly I had to go on a private basis.”

He raised money to build the school with help from German musician Peter Maffay and Apache singer Robby Romero. Mission of Love, a Youngstown, Ohio, organization dedicated to helping the world’s poorest regions, gathered discounted or donated building materials.

Lakota has been spoken by people in North America for over 3,000 years. When the Pilgrims arrived in 1620, hundreds of Native languages flourished across the continent. Only a dozen, including Lakota, survived the westward European advancement and are considered viable today. Studies show that starting in 1954 more Lakota children learned English as a first language than Lakota.”Something happened in that post war era that convinced enough parents that there was no future in getting the kids to speak Lakota,” Meya says.

The federal government is partly to blame. During the 1950s the government reversed its Indian policy. After 20 years of measures designed to let Indians plot their own futures, highlighted by the Indian Reorganization Act of 1934, the Eisenhower administration adopted a termination policy. The government sought to end tribal benefits while assimilating Indians into white society.”It was acceptable to say, ‘We live in an English-speaking world. We might as well join,'” Little Finger says.”That was the frame of mind that young parents were picking up.”

As teachers try to restore Lakota’s vitality, they are fortunate that the language is fairly easy to pick up. Meya says it’s straightforward and sounds like German and Slavic languages, which could explain its popularity in Europe.”Lakota is something that people who like to learn languages find relatively easy to learn,” Meya says.”There’s great worldwide interest in the language, and that helps support it. In terms of international use of any Native American language, it is the language that most people want to learn, and we like to encourage that.”

The Lakota alphabet includes 25 characters and 14 digraphs, which are two-letter combinations that represent specific sounds. Linguist Rood calls Lakota a”verb last” language, meaning the sentence structure follows a subject-object-verb pattern. The language has other unique characteristics. The speaker’s gender determines what words are used. Instead of voice inflections, speakers use words at the ends of sentences to convey emotions.”The difference between surprise and disgust, anger or conciliation, is expressed with actual words,” Rood says.”I’ve got a list of about 30 of those words. I keep finding more of them all the time.”

In 1976 Rood co-wrote the first college level Lakota language textbook, Beginning Lakhota. His book is still widely used because in the last 30 years, few new reference books have appeared.”The stumbling block has always been that there is no standard writing system,” Rood says.”Everybody makes up their own system based on what they’ve heard or seen in religious materials, or what they think they should do because they know how to write English.”

Albert White Hat has worked on standardization since 1973, but he encountered problems in the 1990s as he worked on his textbook, Reading and Writing the Lakota Language. White Hat and Jael Kampfe, a Montana native studying at Yale University, began the project in 1992. Kampfe recorded White Hat’s classes. Then they transcribed and edited them into a 226-page book. He sent the manuscript to three linguists and a host of schools and publishers who offered mixed reviews.

“The language has developed what they call a subculture,” White Hat explains.”Historians and anthropologists use the modern translations, and my work contradicts that. They didn’t want that printed.” One major university press told White Hat that,”folk etymology and oral history are fine, but they’re not recorded so this shouldn’t be printed.” The University of Utah Press finally published his book in 1999 and is widely used.

The Lakota Language Consortium took a major step in standardizing Lakota writing with its New Lakota Dictionary. It contains 20,000 words and definitions, including over 6,000 words that have never appeared in a dictionary, and a 90-page section on grammar. The 3,000″most important” words are highlighted. The book’s introduction discusses the history of the language and lexicography.

Work on the dictionary began in 1985. Its authors consulted over 300 Lakota and Dakota speakers in South Dakota and Minnesota. It is the culmination of nearly 180 years’ worth of efforts to compile Lakota language reference works. The first attempt came from missionary brothers Samuel and Gideon Pond, who collected words among the Santee people in Minnesota in the 1830s. In 1852, missionary Stephen Riggs edited the Grammar and Dictionary of the Dakota Language, and 40 years later, published the Dakota-English Dictionary. John P. Williamson published an English-Dakota dictionary, meant to be a companion to Riggs’ earlier work, in 1902.

Other dictionaries followed in the 20th century. These, and the earlier works, all had faults. In some cases authors simply took words from English dictionaries and had Indians translate them. That process was hit-and-miss because some English words have no Lakota equivalent, resulting in new Lakota words created specifically for the dictionary. Another problem was that authors failed to distinguish between such nuances as aspirated and hard stops, which hindered written development of the language.

South Dakota native Ella Deloria did some of the best work. Growing up on the Yankton and Standing Rock reservations, Deloria learned Lakota and the Yankton dialect of Dakota. She developed a deep appreciation for her language.”The [languages] I know are rich and full of vitality, picturesque, laconic, and capable of subtle shades of meaning,” she wrote in her 1944 book Speaking of Indians.”It was a white man’s joke, now worn rather thin, that all an Indian could do to express himself was to grunt. ‘Ugh!’ was supposed to be his whole vocabulary. But the opposite is true.”

Deloria immersed herself in the language. She spent decades translating old books and meticulously cataloging Lakota and Dakota words.”I have amassed so many words in the Dakota dialects — Yankton, Santee, Teton and Assiniboin — that I despair of ever classifying them and making them available for the use of study in linguistics,” she lamented. But in 1941 she collaborated with renowned linguist Franz Boas on the most complete Lakota grammar to date. And after she died in 1971, Deloria’s linguistic gold mine became the foundation for books like Professor Rood’s Beginning Lakhota and the New Lakota Dictionary.

Thousands of Lakota youth use the dictionary and materials from the Lakota Language Consortium every day. Educators hope they help streamline Lakota language instruction. If they’re right, with help from dedicated teachers like Albert White Hat and Leonard Little Finger the language should be safe for generations.


Lakota on the Air

Educators use more than books to teach Lakota. Graduate students at the University of Colorado are producing videos of Lakota speakers to capture their conversational style. The students then translate, mark sentences for grammar and upload the videos to a computer.

The conversational style is”the least well documented” aspect of Lakota, says Professor David Rood, a linguist at the university.”We’ve got lots of formal language. We’ve got speeches, prayers, traditional stories and biographies in written form, but nobody has ever actually paid attention to the way in which people take turns when they’re talking, or how they interrupt someone politely. That’s part of actually using the language every day.”

In Pine Ridge, Bryan Charging Cloud and his cousin, Robert Two Crow, host a Lakota language show on KILI Radio.”We spoke Lakota about anything, just as long as we used the language,” Charging Cloud says. The show, which airs from 8-9 a.m. (MST) Saturdays, has evolved to include lessons, stories and discussions about the language. Two years ago he added a storytelling hour that airs Wednesdays at 5 p.m.

“These shows are good for people who just want to listen and learn,” says Charging Cloud, who directs the Lakota Language Institute at Oglala Lakota College and leads an immersion program for young children.”A long time ago Lakota people used to tell stories at night. Not too many people speak Lakota now, so they probably don’t do that. We just carry that on.”

Charging Cloud also produces a Lakota language television program for the college’s local channel and has used video conferencing and e-mail to teach students at places like Stanford University in California. Listeners can hear Charging Cloud’s shows at 90.1 FM or online at www.kiliradio.org.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 2009 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.