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A Town Every 10 Miles

Trains still stop in McLaughlin, the largest town in Corson County, because the South Dakota Wheat Growers’ grain elevator ships wheat, corn and soybeans by rail.

McLaughlin’s cafe has a tribute to a local trucker who raised an amazing racehorse. The local sheriff, who lives at McIntosh, is famous for feeding 6,000 starving buffalo. The Merkels operate a new hotel in Watauga, pop. 29, just east of a tiny restaurant with brands burned on the walls.

South Dakota might have too many small towns, but which one would you close? Each has its own character and characters, and the 90-mile stretch of Highway 12 through Corson County — where there is or was a town every 8 or 10 miles — is classic.

“If it wouldn’t have been for the railroad, there wouldn’t be any towns,” says Ed Schock, a county commissioner who lives in McLaughlin, where he often helps his wife Sharon at the city library.”The steam engines needed to be filled with water every 10 miles or so, so that’s why we have so many little towns.”

Today, a dozen trains a day still string their way across a route that was created in 1909 and 1910, hugging the North Dakota/South Dakota border on the western half of Corson County. The steel rails parallel Highway 12 and pass through old towns planned by the railroaders.

McIntosh, the county seat, is named for two brothers who helped build the tracks. But most of the town names have roots in the region’s Native American heritage; in the Lakota language, Mahto (today a ghost town) means bear and Watauga means foaming water. Two-thirds of the county’s 4,100 residents are members of the Standing Rock Reservation, where many families trace their lineage to the great Sitting Bull who was killed there in 1890.

The towns of Walker and Morristown were named for cattle kings. McLaughlin got its name from a powerful Indian agent who was instrumental in developing the region. Geography was behind the naming of Keldron (someone’s spelling of cauldron) because a circle of hills and rounded buttes resembling a massive kettle surround the little village.

Corson County’s spacious grass prairies are beautifully punctuated by gentle buttes and hills shaped by glaciers a mere 20,000 or so years ago. They include Twin Buttes, Clay Butte, Hump Butte and Mud Butte. Black Horse Butte near the Grand River derives its name from a wild black stallion that led a band of mares before settlers arrived. Skull Butte, south of Morristown near the Moreau River, was the site of a bloody battle between the Sioux and the Crow; according to legend, 10 skulls rested on the white sandstone for years after the fight.

“Driving over this rolling countryside has reminded many travelers of floating over an ocean of grass,” wrote Hermosa author Linda Hasselstrom in her travel book, Roadside History of South Dakota. “The region’s buttes stand like lighthouses. Occasionally the highway drops abruptly into a valley with a stream, green grass and scampering wildlife … towns and homes seem unimportant in this place of sky touching earth.”

Yet there are towns and homes and people well spaced in a county that, geographically, is South Dakota’s fifth largest. The people are as varied and interesting as the buttes and river valleys.

Terri Baumeister (right) and her daughter, Megan, live in McIntosh, where citizens often enjoy Sunday morning brunches in the new City Hall. Baumeister, like many rural people, wears several hats: she is a deputy sheriff and the city finance officer.

Keith Gall, sheriff for 25 years, has the easy-natured disposition of a Chamber of Commerce executive despite a host of challenges over the past few years. He and three deputies patrol the 2,500-square-mile county. They write three warning tickets for every actual traffic ticket (statistics like that are kept in a book in the courthouse hallway). They deal with everything from deer-car collisions to pet problems and a meth crisis.”Our problems were 95 percent alcohol related up to a few years ago and now it’s 90 percent drug related,” he says.

A few years ago, Sheriff Gall garnered national headlines when he and his deputies led an effort to feed 6,000 starving buffalo on the big Wilder ranch near McLaughlin.”We spent $60,000 on hay just the first week,” he recalls. He took charge of the animals for nearly three months, and saved most of them.

Another year someone abandoned 14 Chihuahuas. The lawmen spent days trying to trap the little dogs so Pets & Stuff in nearby Mobridge could find homes for them.”I’ve been bitten several times,” said Sheriff Gall, still smiling.

His good nature was sorely tested in 2006 when a young Texan named Dwight Crigger came to town with a grain combining crew and stayed to work as the Corson County Weed and Pest Supervisor. Crigger and the sheriff became friends when the Texan joined the volunteer fire department and ambulance service and became active in the community of McIntosh.

The sheriff found it odd when a county shop building burned down in late 2005, and he was greatly distressed when the county’s historic wood-frame courthouse went up in flames in April 2006. Suspicions arose when Crigger’s whereabouts became an issue, and after a 46-day investigation, the sheriff had to arrest his young friend for arson.

Fire, the enemy of many small towns, also destroyed the town’s city hall in 2010 and a popular bar and restaurant in 2014. But both the city hall and courthouse have been rebuilt. Motorists driving Highway 12 on a Sunday morning can get a taste of local flavor by stopping at the McIntosh City Hall, where school groups or community clubs almost always host a breakfast and lunch to raise funds for some local project.

Schock, the county commissioner and local historian, says Corson County has other interesting places for adventurous visitors to explore. He recommends an old church at Kenel with an unusual pulpit carved of local cottonwood. Sitting Bull’s home site, where he was killed in 1890, lies west of McLaughlin and the great chief’s grave is on the eastern edge of the county overlooking the Missouri River. The Lakota holy man was initially buried near Fort Yates, North Dakota. Relatives felt the burial site was not properly tended and tried legal means to return the remains to South Dakota. When all else failed, a group of Mobridge civic leaders and tribal members sneaked into North Dakota on a dark and snowy night in 1953. They dug up the rotted wood coffin, collected the bones and reburied them at the present location. Then they added 20 tons of concrete atop a new vault to discourage North Dakotans from planning a retaliatory raid.

Schock says the towns of McLaughlin and McIntosh once were bitter rivals, but today’s sparse population seems to have ameliorated the competition.”If you aren’t agriculture-minded, you don’t have much of a chance to make a living here today,” he says.”And it’s tough if you are in agriculture, too.”

Brenda Carroll reopened a cafe in Watauga that had housed a museum famous for a collection of cowboy memorabilia.

A once-fierce rivalry between the McLaughlin High School Midgets and the McIntosh Tigers has diminished, and now the Midgets have succumbed to political correctness. The moniker dated to 1916 when nearby Wakpala had a tall basketball team and McLaughlin had some”smaller Roosian boys,” as the legend goes. The editor of the local paper referred to his team as the Midgets and it stuck until last year, when the local school board bent to pressure from the Little People of America to find a new mascot. They settled on the Mustangs.

McLaughlin never won a basketball championship, but Ed Walker says it had one of the state’s top swimming teams for decades. Walker, a McLaughlin native who came home to teach and ended up as mayor for 25 years, helped lead an effort to build an indoor/outdoor pool that was the envy of towns throughout the region.”Our little town of 600 competed against Sioux Falls and Rapid City,” he says.”We had some good swimmers.”

Walker says the town also became one of the first to bury all of its electrical lines. That happened after he spearheaded an effort to sever McLaughlin’s ties with a big utility and organize the city’s own municipal electric department.”It took us six votes to get that done. They called us the city of elections, but we got it passed. Then we found it was cheaper to go underground than overhead, so we were the first to do that and we lowered the rates to boot.”

Today Walker and his wife, Sharon, live in a farmhouse standing between Highway 12 and the railroad tracks.”I grew up here and we watched the trains go through day and night,” Sharon says.”In the hard times the bums would come and ask Mom for a sandwich or an apple. Dad gave the railroad a 99-year lease to expand the track on our property because it was good for McLaughlin. There were a lot of good railroad jobs in the early years.”

Her family, the Howes, and many others located their farms near the railroad tracks because the engineers were willing to stop and load livestock onto the cars.”Then the farmers could ride for free with the cattle to Sioux City or Chicago,” Sharon recalls.

Though railroad jobs are rare today, and trains hardly slow as they pass through the towns, new developments still surprise people along the old highway and tracks. At Watauga, farmers Gary and Eleanor Merkel built a new hotel in the town of two dozen people. Guests at their spacious Dakota Countryside Inn can enjoy breakfast and coffee in the kitchen, play a game of billiards and enjoy a hunting-lodge atmosphere. Just down the highway, Brenda Carroll has re-opened a tiny landmark cafe that was closed for four years. Her diners enjoy rodeo pictures, brands burned on the walls and a $5.50 steak.

Nine miles west of Watauga is another stop, Morristown, with a much larger restaurant known as Fast Eddie’s. A big American flag hangs on the west wall and, of course, local ranchers’ brands are burned on a wood wall near the door.

If today we had the opportunity to plan towns along Highway 12 and the railroad tracks, we might decide that one would be enough. But, like the people inhabiting them, each has its own West River charm. Which one would you not want?

This story is revised from the July/August 2017 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Oddities and Fun

“I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel,” wrote children’s author E.B. White. Colorful games and rides, people of all ages spending time together, laughing, eating, chatting with neighbors. Fairs are exhibits of our culture at its finest.

Late summer gatherings date back to the early years of our United States. Eventually the fairs evolved and became more elaborate. But they’ve always symbolized a last hurrah before school begins and winter comes.

One of our favorites is the Turner County Fair in Parker (Aug. 15-18). This year the fair turns 136, making it the oldest in South Dakota. Once inside the gates (free admission, by the way) you’ll find a fun little pioneer town to tour known as Heritage Park. It has a general store, church, school and millinery. Each is furnished with antiques and open to the public. Outside you’ll find a shaded stage which hosts non-stop music and entertainment throughout the four-day spectacle. If you’re wondering about food, you’re in for a treat. Local beef and pork producers run dueling booths that garner long lines at dinner, but another popular choice is a chislic booth organized by sheep farmer Bill Aeschlimann and some friends way back in 1983. Turner and Hutchinson counties are known as the home of chislic — a Russian tradition of beef, lamb or pork seasoned and grilled over an open fire. (Or, here in America, deep fat fried as we also do with Oreos and cupcakes.)

Other fairs are known for fun and games. The Potter County Fair (Aug. 6-9) in Gettysburg features Cow Patty Bingo. An open patch of grass at the fairgrounds is divided into squares, each of which is for sale. Once the squares are sold, a cow is turned loose on the grass. The owner of the square where the cow first leaves her mark wins the jackpot.

In Aberdeen, at the Brown County Fair (Aug. 15-21), a fair staffer goes out early every morning to hide a stuffed monkey named Casey. The first kid to find Casey wins carnival tickets or another fair prize.

Visit the Corson County Fair in McIntosh (Aug. 12-14) to view turtle races — prizes go to both the fastest and slowest racers. Here’s a hint: painted turtles are faster than mud turtles, in case you didn’t know. Here’s another hint: snapping turtles can be dangerous.

Food competitions are popular attractions at our local fairs. Often attendees get to taste the results. The Custer County Fair (Aug. 11-14) in Hermosa features an ice cream crank-off. Power models are forbidden, guaranteeing an old-fashioned experience for kids who have never had an opportunity to make their own. A chili cook-off is one of the highlights of the Sully County Fair (Aug. 11-14) in Onida. The public can sample all the chili they can eat after the contest, for only $5.

Fairs are a fine way to celebrate our communities, but the food, games and exhibits aren’t as meaningful if people don’t show up to enjoy them. We hope you take the time to visit one of the dozens of fairs in South Dakota this summer.

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Rock Solid Faith

During the last two years I have sought out as many South Dakota country churches as I can find. Over the course of my wanderings, three unique and historic church buildings made entirely of stone have captured my imagination. I wanted to show them partly because we just celebrated Holy Week, which for many South Dakotans means an extra emphasis in the beliefs that root our faith. The other reason is to remember the hard work and strong community ties that went into constructing and maintaining these buildings.

Photographing these churches presents a challenge. I always want to capture them in the most beautiful light or weather possible, but more importantly I want to both respect and convey the significance of these places. Often I am literally treading on holy ground. I was surprised to find each church in this column unlocked and open to the public, with only small signs reminding to close the door when leaving or simply asking to sign the guestbook. That is South Dakota at its best.

The oldest stone church I visited was Historic Lakeport Church and St. John the Baptist Cemetery in Yankton County. This building was started in 1882 and finished in 1884, constructed from chalkstone quarried from the Missouri River cliffs south of the church site. Regular services are no longer held, but I did learn that Mass is still held once a year followed by a potluck. Lakeport is also affectionately known as”the smiling church,” nicknamed because its front windows and door form the image of wide eyes and a grin.

Chapel of the Holy Spirit, found roughly 3 miles south of the Grand River in rural Corson County, is a church I knew as a kid growing up in Isabel. I had a friend that would attend from time to time and he just referred to it as the”old stone church.” It wasn’t until I was in college that I actually got out to see it. The chapel was built in 1922 with stone quarried from a nearby bluff of Firesteel Creek under the direction of the Episcopalian Mission to the Standing Rock Reservation. To get there you must travel quite a few miles on gravel and then prairie dirt roads. Once at the site, it truly does feel as if you’ve taken a step back in time.

Our Savior’s Lutheran, found 6 miles south of Menno on the James River, was built with rocks found in nearby fields. Lloyd Sorlien was 8 years old when the building was finished in 1948. He clearly remembers helping gather rock in neighboring fields as well as attending services in the basement until the building was finished. Lloyd also told me how his dad had a particular skill for knowing where to hit a rock with his 10-pound mallet so it would split just the right way. He also pointed out a cross in the front of the church made from rocks brought over from Norway.

As much as I hope these grand old buildings stay standing as reminders of what once was, I’m also reminded that a church isn’t a church without the people that belong to it. That sense of community has always been strong in South Dakota in one form or another, whether religious, family or civic based. I’m hopeful that we South Dakotans continue in this grand old tradition for many years to come.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Grand River’s Wall


In the southwest section of Corson County is a landmark I’d heard mentioned from to time by locals but had never seen. The landform is referred to as”the wall” and marks the steep, cliff edge of the Grand River breaks on its southern flank for a considerable distance.

A few summers ago while shooting the Isabel Centennial Wagon Train, South Dakota’s own sculpture artist, John Lopez, and I got re-acquainted. During the entertainment in the evenings, local cowboy poets and singers made regular reference to the wall. I asked John about the landform, as I knew he grew up in that area near Black Horse Butte. He told me about the long, tall line of mini-badlands along the Grand River and then graciously invited me out to get a tour. I finally took him up on that offer this summer.

It’s a wonderful place to take a camera. I grew up in a similar landscape (the Moreau River breaks to the south) so I may be a bit biased, but I believe there is a true visual poetry to West River ranchland. I’ll admit the rhyme and rhythm of the landscape can be elusive. Depending on the weather of any given year as well as a hundred other factors, it can be a challenge to find beauty. Some folks look out at the land and think it is a wasteland or akin to a desert. I respectfully disagree.

When you look at ranchland going by your car window at 65-plus miles an hour, it’s hard to see the detail that contributes to its beauty. Going that fast, it is impossible to pick out the doe and her fawn in a creek bottom, or the flashing purple and yellow of wildflowers waving in the wind on the hilltops. Corson County’s wall country isn’t near any highway and unless you have a death wish, driving the narrow county roads is best done under 45 mph. I recommend doing it at about half that speed in the cool of the morning or the last light of evening. When the sun turns the prairies golden yellow and the bright ribbon of the Grand River shines against the deepening shadow of the looming wall, maybe then you can see what I mean by visual poetry.

This corner of South Dakota has a rich history to it as well. Black Horse Butte, just above the wall in one of the Grand River National Grassland allotments, was a well-known landmark along the Deadwood to Bismarck Stage Trail. The trail ran just under the butte on the west side of the wall before it crossed the Grand River going northeast.

Going back further into the depths of time, this landscape once teemed with dinosaurs — the kinds of dinosaurs that most of us grew up reading and daydreaming about. In late July, I was able to visit a dig right along one of the cliffs directly above the river. While there, a beautiful Tyrannosaurus Rex tooth was found. The excitement of the camp was palpable (and I certainly added to it). All of the bones found, including a full Triceratops skull, are cleaned up and then displayed at the Grand River Museum in Lemmon, SD.

The wall may be one of the least well-known landmarks that I’ve photographed this year, but it is also one of my favorites. It is remote and it is beautiful. In younger days I spent countless hours under the western South Dakota sky in a tractor or chasing cows to and fro. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I was falling in love with the simple beauty of it all. This kind of country is and will remain home to me.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.

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The Day the Courthouse Burned

Courthouses are second only to churches as the most important buildings in 66 South Dakota cities. That’s where we go for marriage licenses and birth certificates. It’s where we register to vote, and for the draft. It’s where we pay our taxes and buy our license plates and complain to the county commission.

Most of our courthouses are built of stone and brick, and some may outlast the coliseum in Rome. But a few were built of wood and they are more susceptible to the whims of man and nature.

The citizens of Corson County are still saddened by the events of April 1, 2006 when their old, wood-frame courthouse in McIntosh erupted in flames shortly after midnight. Firemen from McIntosh, McLaughlin, Isabel and Lemmon rushed to help, but the dry old building burned like straw. By morning, the county’s five vaults were standing solidly amidst the smoking, smoldering rubble.

Contents in the vaults were soggy and sooty, but intact. Everything else was lost.

Karl Brooks, a Corson County native now living in West Virginia, sent us the Corson News Messenger that was published a few days later. He also sent the June 8 issue which announced the arrest of Dwight “Trey” Crigger, a drifter from Texas who came to South Dakota with a combine crew and was hired by the county weed board.

Crigger, 25, a member of the McIntosh fire department, was also charged with an earlier fire at the county shop. “If Crigger started the fire,” wrote the editor, “some of his actions are puzzling. He had worked hard on restoring the pickup used for spraying the by the weed and pest board. It was parked in the shed that burned and destroyed. Maps he had prepared showing noxious weed locations were burned in the courthouse fire.”

The young man confessed to the crime and was sentenced to 15 years in the state penitentiary, and assessed $1.1 million in damages. He never explained why he torched his adopted town’s beloved and historic courthouse.

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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.

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Traveling S.D.: 75 Years Ago

While researching a story for our upcoming issue, I’ve spent considerable time looking through the South Dakota guidebook compiled in the 1930s. The authors were writers struggling to find work during the Great Depression, so they joined the Federal Writers Project under the Works Progress Administration. They got to travel the state and write about what you could find. Sounds like a pretty good gig.

The pages are filled with interesting nuggets of South Dakota history. Here are a few examples:

  • When a writer passed through Corson County he found Sitting Bull Park on the site where the great Hunkpapa chief was killed in 1890. He noted that an Indian guide was available during the summer. Today, however, Sitting Bull’s great-grandson Ernie LaPointe reports that the only marker at the death site is one place by the state historical society, and that it can only be reached by four wheel drive.
  • The city of Woonsocket was in the running to be world headquarters for Post cereals. C.W. Post liked Woonsocket’s location in the heart of the grain belt, but city leaders were skeptical of the young man’s plan. Plus he wanted them to simply give him a piece of land for his factory. They passed, and Post took his idea to Battle Creek, Michigan.
  • The largest tree in the state was discovered on the Sutton Ranch in Sully County. The huge cottonwood measured 40 feet around at its base. A fierce windstorm later blew it down.
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Winter to Spring

In South Dakota the time between winter and spring can be long and, like this last week, ugly. Fr. Tony Grossenburg, a Catholic priest on the Standing Rock Reservation found beauty in this transition. You can see more of his work at www.flickr.com/photos/frtony/.