HAVE YOU THOUGHT OF LEONARD PELTIER LATELY?
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION
by George Blitch
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION
by George Blitch
I would like to take a moment to share my story with you about how I found myself on this miraculous journey with Harvey Arden and Leonard Peltier, and the millions of you who tirelessly hope, pray, and work for Leonard's freedom...
It was a frosty afternoon in Boston, chilled by autumn's stinging winds, when my friends Teague Channing and Adrian Velasco decided we should rent “Incident at Oglala,” a brilliant documentary of Leonard's case, produced by Robert Redford. I had heard about Peltier’s plight in the past, but was still very unfamiliar with the details involving his case. The documentary was about to change that, and my future path…in many ways.
We turned on the documentary and about fifteen minutes in, I insisted my friends restart it so I could take sufficient notes on Leonard's case. After about eight pages of notes and questions I wanted to have answered, the credits rolled down the screen and I was off to the library.
At the time, I was working towards my English degree and teaching certificate at Northeastern University, in Boston. It wasn't long before I was gathering research about Leonard's case in between classes. Teague was planning an event down the road at Tufts University and I thought it would be a great idea to have one at Northeastern also. I asked around to see what I would have to do to put on an event. The first major requirement was to be a President of a student body organization. Turns out, only a few weeks before, I began my tour of duty as the President of the English Class. As my first order of business, I demanded that Peltier be Pardoned, but no one took me seriously.
The next step was getting approval from the student organization that decided what events would be held on campus, and how much funding they received. I wrote a proposal and submitted it. They weren't happy at the idea at first, most of them assumed Leonard was guilty, but after some convincing, they gave me the go ahead.
We only had a couple of months before Clinton was to leave office. Every Peltier supporter around the world was united in prayer, imagining Leonard walking away from Leavenworth towards his home to finally be with his family.
I wanted to have a speaker who had worked with Leonard closely, to represent Leonard's spirit and powerful messages. A friend suggested that I speak with Harvey Arden, editor of Peltier’s Prison Writings: My Life Is My Sundance. I emailed Harvey and asked him if he was interested, and to my surprise he wrote back, minutes later, and told me that he would love to be a part of the event.
On December 7th, 2000, the day of the event, I picked up Harvey at Logan airport around seven in the morning. The event didn't start until six in the evening, so we had plenty of time to swap stories and get to know each other. He told me about his career as a writer, his involvement with Peltier, and his passions for working with Indigenous people. That night I got to see Harvey in his element, reading Peltier’s words, bringing a spirit into the room that made you feel that if you closed your eyes, you were listening to Leonard himself, just fifteen feet away. It was an incredible experience for me. Inspiration set in even deeper in the fibers of my being, and I knew I could never separate myself from Leonard’s struggle.
Just about a month after the event, President Clinton was scheduled to speak at my school before leaving office. As students, we received an allotment of tickets for the event. I was not on campus when the thousand or so tickets were given away, unfortunately.
One of my friend’s bands, Loop Dreams, had a show the following night. Just-In, the guitarist, came up to me and asked if I was able to get a ticket. I sadly responded. He starred at me for what felt like a couple of minutes, deliberating some intense thoughts through his mind. He told me to follow him. We went backstage and he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a ticket to Clinton’s “Address to the People of Boston.” Just-In told me that he would only give me the ticket on one agreement, that I shake Clinton’s hand and tell him to Free Peltier-something I had wanted to do for months.
I forgot that I told my friend I always wanted to look Clinton in the eye and tell him my thoughts concerning Peltier’s case. Just-In didn’t forget. I told him I couldn’t agree to such a condition since it was highly improbable that I would get the chance to get that close to the Prez anyhow. I told him I would do everything I could, however. He looked me in the eye and told me, “if anyone I know can make this happen, it is you.” That inspired me…and I had a plan.
Just-In, Adrian, and a few other friends of mine went to the event, sat in our binocular seats, and proceeded to yell “Free Peltier” each time the applause died down after Billy Boy or Senator Kennedy said something others considered good promises of the future - or something of that nature. We attracted a few of the Security folk over to our area. Once the Dog and Pony show was over, Clinton and his cronies shook hands with all the people in the front row. My friend, Adrian and I saw our opportunity and tried to walk down the aisle to get to the floor section. We were immediately halted by two of Clinton’s security personnel. “I just want to shake his hand,” I said. They told us we were to politely leave the building at once. We agreed and began walking away. A few rows later we made a break for it and hopped over the barricade that lead our way onto the floor. From there it was a matter of getting through the crowd and up to the front row. I was almost there when I got hit in the head.
I know people sometimes exaggerate their stories with every telling, but honestly, the man attached to the elbow that impaled my temple had to have been six and a half feet tall and was incredibly muscular. As I fell to the floor, I luckily caught myself on some people who were standing beside me. I looked up to see this gorilla of a man talking into the microphone that was attached to his earpiece, “we have him here.” I was a little dazed and very pissed off. I guess they were doing their job though, and if I was some mad man trying to attack the President, I could understand that they might have to use force to stop me. I just wanted to shake the guy’s hand and share a word or two. Quickly thinking, I yelled, “Why did you just hit me, I am only trying to meet the President.” Everyone around us looked over and saw me holding my head. Mr. Elbow looked around at everyone, not knowing what to do at first, which gave me just enough time to get by him and up to the front row where I clutched onto the railing. Clinton was coming my way.
When he came by I shook his hand and looked into his crooked smile and told him my thoughts. I can’t remember word for word what I said, but it was along the lines of, “Mr. Clinton, I realize that you a man with a heart. You have the opportunity to prove that to the people that have been deeply affected by the wrongful imprisonment of Leonard Peltier. The Native people have suffered enough. You have an opportunity to do the right thing and release him.” He squinted his eyes at me, and proceeded to walk away. He clearly did not want to respond to that. I think he was even more aggravated when I didn’t let go of his hand and he had to turn and face me again, with a truly fake see-through smile, hiding his true feelings in front of everyone. I repeated my plea and he added “thank you for sharing,” and went on down the line. For some reason, I didn’t think really meant it.
Senator Kennedy was right behind him. I exchanged the same words with him and he tuned it out. I also tightened my grip as he tried to move down the line so I could politely ask him to encourage his buddy Billy to do what was right, and FREE PELTIER.
I was just truly pleased to be able to complete my goal. Would it make a difference? Probably not. But, the issue he had fought so long to avoid during his eight years in office was put in front of him. The next day, Bonnie Winona and another Leonard supporter did the same thing. Presidents always seem to have the media by them whenever they go to greet a child, a veteran, or someone who is handicapped. It paints a positive image to their public persona. I don’t think Clinton knew how to react when, in New Hampshire, a man in a wheelchair Clinton posed with for a picture produced a picture of Peltier and ask him to finally Free Leonard. I hope some photojournalist grabbed that moment in time. I’d love to see Clinton’s reaction. If someone has a photo of that encounter, please do send it my way.
A few days later on January 13, 2001 my grandmother passed away.
A week later her ashes were to be buried next to my grandfather’s grave in a little town in West Texas where my grandmother grew up. My family has a ranch a few miles from the cemetery. We were all waiting to go to the burial when I flipped on the TV to see if the list of those Clinton pardoned was posted yet. After an hour of anticipation, the list scrolled down. Many people who had committed some serious crimes were released that day. Leonard, an innocent man, was not on the list.
I felt like two Dreams were lost that day; The dream of having my Grandmother live long enough to play with my own children, teaching them to sew and cook as she had taught me, and a chance to share more of those previously unimportant moments we tend to neglect until we have lost the chance to ever revisiting those “unimportant” moments again.
The other Dream was Leonard’s dream -- a dream of being free, being able to sit and spend time and play with his own grandchildren in his own home. A dream of walking without boundaries and not having to be a number anymore, USP#89637-132. A dream uninterrupted by clanging steel doors, thrusting innocence into a 5-1/2 by 9 foot trap. President Clinton who, as Harvey puts it so eloquently, “has the Spine of a Chocolate Éclair,” forfeited his dream. Rumors that Clinton was going to free Peltier were so full of hope that his own family prepared his favorite meal, bought him a new suit, and set up a room for him to sleep in when he was released.
As I walked around the ranch with my dad after the burial, I told him about my feeling in regards to my grandmother’s passing and Leonard being passed over by Clinton. I thought about what it would be like if my father, just a few days older that Leonard had been wrongfully imprisoned for so long. I did not want to approach the thought. I can’t understand what it must be like for Leonard’s family and close friends. Clinton left the world a colder place when he left office that day. And it’s only seemed to get colder.
As I was contemplating these things, I looked down and saw what appeared to be an arrowhead. I went to pick it up and realized it was just a leaf. But next to it, where there was nothing in the sand before, was an arrowhead unlike any I had seen before. It didn’t look anything like the ones I had found throughout my life on the ranch. It was magical. I could feel it.
As soon as I looked up in the sky, a swarm of birds flew overhead. It was by far the largest group of birds I had ever seen. I moved away from the tree I was under to get a better view and I saw that there was no end in sight. It was a completely clear blue sky, without even a thought of a cloud. My father and I stood, dumbfounded. All the birds were appearing from a particular point in the sky. It was as if they were flying right out of a portal. I had to ask my father if he was witnessing the same thing. He nodded. The stream of birds, about fifty wide at all times, and so thick you couldn’t see the sky between them, flew out from this opening in the sky for over twenty minutes. There must have been millions of them, at least.
Then we noticed that the direction where this mysterious entrance the birds arrived through was the same direction where the cemetery was. Call it a release of my grandmother’s spirit when she finally returned to the earth, or view each bird as a prayer for Leonard’s freedom that was unanswered that day, or call it both. Or call me crazy. I can’t explain it. Could anyone?
I will never forget that day. Neither will the millions of you who felt that a Dream was lost. All we can do is continue our struggle. As long as Leonard is imprisoned, none of us are free.
Mitakuye Oyasin,
George Bowe Blitch
It was a frosty afternoon in Boston, chilled by autumn's stinging winds, when my friends Teague Channing and Adrian Velasco decided we should rent “Incident at Oglala,” a brilliant documentary of Leonard's case, produced by Robert Redford. I had heard about Peltier’s plight in the past, but was still very unfamiliar with the details involving his case. The documentary was about to change that, and my future path…in many ways.
We turned on the documentary and about fifteen minutes in, I insisted my friends restart it so I could take sufficient notes on Leonard's case. After about eight pages of notes and questions I wanted to have answered, the credits rolled down the screen and I was off to the library.
At the time, I was working towards my English degree and teaching certificate at Northeastern University, in Boston. It wasn't long before I was gathering research about Leonard's case in between classes. Teague was planning an event down the road at Tufts University and I thought it would be a great idea to have one at Northeastern also. I asked around to see what I would have to do to put on an event. The first major requirement was to be a President of a student body organization. Turns out, only a few weeks before, I began my tour of duty as the President of the English Class. As my first order of business, I demanded that Peltier be Pardoned, but no one took me seriously.
The next step was getting approval from the student organization that decided what events would be held on campus, and how much funding they received. I wrote a proposal and submitted it. They weren't happy at the idea at first, most of them assumed Leonard was guilty, but after some convincing, they gave me the go ahead.
We only had a couple of months before Clinton was to leave office. Every Peltier supporter around the world was united in prayer, imagining Leonard walking away from Leavenworth towards his home to finally be with his family.
I wanted to have a speaker who had worked with Leonard closely, to represent Leonard's spirit and powerful messages. A friend suggested that I speak with Harvey Arden, editor of Peltier’s Prison Writings: My Life Is My Sundance. I emailed Harvey and asked him if he was interested, and to my surprise he wrote back, minutes later, and told me that he would love to be a part of the event.
On December 7th, 2000, the day of the event, I picked up Harvey at Logan airport around seven in the morning. The event didn't start until six in the evening, so we had plenty of time to swap stories and get to know each other. He told me about his career as a writer, his involvement with Peltier, and his passions for working with Indigenous people. That night I got to see Harvey in his element, reading Peltier’s words, bringing a spirit into the room that made you feel that if you closed your eyes, you were listening to Leonard himself, just fifteen feet away. It was an incredible experience for me. Inspiration set in even deeper in the fibers of my being, and I knew I could never separate myself from Leonard’s struggle.
Just about a month after the event, President Clinton was scheduled to speak at my school before leaving office. As students, we received an allotment of tickets for the event. I was not on campus when the thousand or so tickets were given away, unfortunately.
One of my friend’s bands, Loop Dreams, had a show the following night. Just-In, the guitarist, came up to me and asked if I was able to get a ticket. I sadly responded. He starred at me for what felt like a couple of minutes, deliberating some intense thoughts through his mind. He told me to follow him. We went backstage and he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a ticket to Clinton’s “Address to the People of Boston.” Just-In told me that he would only give me the ticket on one agreement, that I shake Clinton’s hand and tell him to Free Peltier-something I had wanted to do for months.
I forgot that I told my friend I always wanted to look Clinton in the eye and tell him my thoughts concerning Peltier’s case. Just-In didn’t forget. I told him I couldn’t agree to such a condition since it was highly improbable that I would get the chance to get that close to the Prez anyhow. I told him I would do everything I could, however. He looked me in the eye and told me, “if anyone I know can make this happen, it is you.” That inspired me…and I had a plan.
Just-In, Adrian, and a few other friends of mine went to the event, sat in our binocular seats, and proceeded to yell “Free Peltier” each time the applause died down after Billy Boy or Senator Kennedy said something others considered good promises of the future - or something of that nature. We attracted a few of the Security folk over to our area. Once the Dog and Pony show was over, Clinton and his cronies shook hands with all the people in the front row. My friend, Adrian and I saw our opportunity and tried to walk down the aisle to get to the floor section. We were immediately halted by two of Clinton’s security personnel. “I just want to shake his hand,” I said. They told us we were to politely leave the building at once. We agreed and began walking away. A few rows later we made a break for it and hopped over the barricade that lead our way onto the floor. From there it was a matter of getting through the crowd and up to the front row. I was almost there when I got hit in the head.
I know people sometimes exaggerate their stories with every telling, but honestly, the man attached to the elbow that impaled my temple had to have been six and a half feet tall and was incredibly muscular. As I fell to the floor, I luckily caught myself on some people who were standing beside me. I looked up to see this gorilla of a man talking into the microphone that was attached to his earpiece, “we have him here.” I was a little dazed and very pissed off. I guess they were doing their job though, and if I was some mad man trying to attack the President, I could understand that they might have to use force to stop me. I just wanted to shake the guy’s hand and share a word or two. Quickly thinking, I yelled, “Why did you just hit me, I am only trying to meet the President.” Everyone around us looked over and saw me holding my head. Mr. Elbow looked around at everyone, not knowing what to do at first, which gave me just enough time to get by him and up to the front row where I clutched onto the railing. Clinton was coming my way.
When he came by I shook his hand and looked into his crooked smile and told him my thoughts. I can’t remember word for word what I said, but it was along the lines of, “Mr. Clinton, I realize that you a man with a heart. You have the opportunity to prove that to the people that have been deeply affected by the wrongful imprisonment of Leonard Peltier. The Native people have suffered enough. You have an opportunity to do the right thing and release him.” He squinted his eyes at me, and proceeded to walk away. He clearly did not want to respond to that. I think he was even more aggravated when I didn’t let go of his hand and he had to turn and face me again, with a truly fake see-through smile, hiding his true feelings in front of everyone. I repeated my plea and he added “thank you for sharing,” and went on down the line. For some reason, I didn’t think really meant it.
Senator Kennedy was right behind him. I exchanged the same words with him and he tuned it out. I also tightened my grip as he tried to move down the line so I could politely ask him to encourage his buddy Billy to do what was right, and FREE PELTIER.
I was just truly pleased to be able to complete my goal. Would it make a difference? Probably not. But, the issue he had fought so long to avoid during his eight years in office was put in front of him. The next day, Bonnie Winona and another Leonard supporter did the same thing. Presidents always seem to have the media by them whenever they go to greet a child, a veteran, or someone who is handicapped. It paints a positive image to their public persona. I don’t think Clinton knew how to react when, in New Hampshire, a man in a wheelchair Clinton posed with for a picture produced a picture of Peltier and ask him to finally Free Leonard. I hope some photojournalist grabbed that moment in time. I’d love to see Clinton’s reaction. If someone has a photo of that encounter, please do send it my way.
A few days later on January 13, 2001 my grandmother passed away.
A week later her ashes were to be buried next to my grandfather’s grave in a little town in West Texas where my grandmother grew up. My family has a ranch a few miles from the cemetery. We were all waiting to go to the burial when I flipped on the TV to see if the list of those Clinton pardoned was posted yet. After an hour of anticipation, the list scrolled down. Many people who had committed some serious crimes were released that day. Leonard, an innocent man, was not on the list.
I felt like two Dreams were lost that day; The dream of having my Grandmother live long enough to play with my own children, teaching them to sew and cook as she had taught me, and a chance to share more of those previously unimportant moments we tend to neglect until we have lost the chance to ever revisiting those “unimportant” moments again.
The other Dream was Leonard’s dream -- a dream of being free, being able to sit and spend time and play with his own grandchildren in his own home. A dream of walking without boundaries and not having to be a number anymore, USP#89637-132. A dream uninterrupted by clanging steel doors, thrusting innocence into a 5-1/2 by 9 foot trap. President Clinton who, as Harvey puts it so eloquently, “has the Spine of a Chocolate Éclair,” forfeited his dream. Rumors that Clinton was going to free Peltier were so full of hope that his own family prepared his favorite meal, bought him a new suit, and set up a room for him to sleep in when he was released.
As I walked around the ranch with my dad after the burial, I told him about my feeling in regards to my grandmother’s passing and Leonard being passed over by Clinton. I thought about what it would be like if my father, just a few days older that Leonard had been wrongfully imprisoned for so long. I did not want to approach the thought. I can’t understand what it must be like for Leonard’s family and close friends. Clinton left the world a colder place when he left office that day. And it’s only seemed to get colder.
As I was contemplating these things, I looked down and saw what appeared to be an arrowhead. I went to pick it up and realized it was just a leaf. But next to it, where there was nothing in the sand before, was an arrowhead unlike any I had seen before. It didn’t look anything like the ones I had found throughout my life on the ranch. It was magical. I could feel it.
As soon as I looked up in the sky, a swarm of birds flew overhead. It was by far the largest group of birds I had ever seen. I moved away from the tree I was under to get a better view and I saw that there was no end in sight. It was a completely clear blue sky, without even a thought of a cloud. My father and I stood, dumbfounded. All the birds were appearing from a particular point in the sky. It was as if they were flying right out of a portal. I had to ask my father if he was witnessing the same thing. He nodded. The stream of birds, about fifty wide at all times, and so thick you couldn’t see the sky between them, flew out from this opening in the sky for over twenty minutes. There must have been millions of them, at least.
Then we noticed that the direction where this mysterious entrance the birds arrived through was the same direction where the cemetery was. Call it a release of my grandmother’s spirit when she finally returned to the earth, or view each bird as a prayer for Leonard’s freedom that was unanswered that day, or call it both. Or call me crazy. I can’t explain it. Could anyone?
I will never forget that day. Neither will the millions of you who felt that a Dream was lost. All we can do is continue our struggle. As long as Leonard is imprisoned, none of us are free.
Mitakuye Oyasin,
George Bowe Blitch