The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 25, 1900, Page 8

M What Elijak Brown KBas to 53y as 2 Red Man Con. ELIVAN BROMWN IN THE DRESS OF Cerning the Pale- Fages OF San Frangisgo. left the constant 2 and girls from . In Carlisle es from over rew 1o y resoluti tead of my own to mcoom- pinion favor- his I feel that vain; but ch yet to be done. There.are at yet belleve it im- iced m > possible to civilize the Indian, and con. de > Government for maintal number of Indian schools e 000 and 30,090 Indian n. It to convince this class their wrong that I left my people. I to show them that an educatlon is E an, and although I have o sell papers on the street until some- thing better offers itself, I shall do my I arrived in this city November 21, 1899, with money enough to keep me for one and without a friend to call upon the trouble began, and 1 experienced a cold hard world. As d down the strcets with stomach, I formed my first opin- ization, and that opinion was unfavorable. Never in the midst of my A4 1 meed food er shelter. Bn TIndlan him my troubles. He looked wise and gave me a little vial of stuff and told me to give him fifty cents. cents made my pocket-book ache worse than my stomach, but I paid it and went on my way in distress. say that the mixture Increased my agony and I was finally forced to lay it aside. The Indians are as one large family and hold things in common, and the stranger is always fed and sheltered worthy. yet crept into their midst, and hence they are yet in advance of their white brother in this respect. The motto of civilization seems to be “Make money, make all you can and al- if he be The greed for money has not ways get the best of the bargain.” 1 have observed the business relations between the white man and Indian, and have concluded that the Indian is doomed to ever receive the worst of the bargain. In barbarism he would trade and the shrewd white man would always leave him in the lurch: in clvilization he is doomed to the same fate. SpeaKing In- dividually, 1 never yet came out ahead in a bargaln. A few days ago 1 was taken violently ill. While in deep agony I stepped into a drug store and a slender palefmy came us and wsked me to tell Jalks of The fifty It Is needless to The most difficult task I ever undertook ELIVAH BrROWN THE. INDI AN was to find work. It may be owing to the fact that I am an Indian. I have answered dozens of advertisements in per- son and by letter, but have never yet been able to secure a permanent position. Some one was always ahead and jumped into the pocl while it was troubled, and wher I arrived the waters were still and I w 1 informed that the position was filled. It is such times as these that try the young man's soul, whether he be red or white, and who can blame him under these circumstances when he goes out into some quiet place and there shuffles off this mortal coll? As far as I know I am the only Indian m the city and there are times when I feel l~nesome. The other evening I had a spell and hearing that the Iroquois Club was to hold its regular gathering, I went up and attended their meeting. They are a poor specimen of the original Iroquols, and instead of the pipe of peace and blan- ‘ket there were white shirts and 5-cent clgars and the venerable chilef was stretched out in a chairifast asleep and snoring violently. Shortly after I arrived in this city a PTUT T TSO>S T DT DTS DD DD DD, Civilization As It Appears to long-haired specimen in buckskin, bear- ing the name of John Sitting Bull, made his appearance. ship to the famous medicine man, Sitting Bull, who led the Custer massacre and lost his life in the last uprising of the Stoux, but I learned from other sources that he had the gift of lying to a marvel- ous degree and practiced it for gain and Mr. Bull claimed kin- pleasure. He told me sev- eral lies of great magni- tude and among other things sald that he did not drink. He tried hard to be my friend and the last request he made was that 1 should go over to Oakland on the night of his supposed marriage. 1 did not go, for I was afraid he was telling me another lie, but two or three days later I heard the stery that he had married an heiress and her father and big brother had brought such pres- sure to bear that he left for Seattle to impose again cn a good-natured public, T do not miss him, but T have a longing to assoclate with the peo- ple of my own nature and ever there is an irresist- ible longing that will yet pull me on board a steamship that will take me back to the scenes of my youth. Gate Park and bury myself in its midst. That is the nearest to nature I can get, for in my youth I enjoyed the freedom of mountain and forest. past I visited the animals of the park. Their captivity and condition corresponds to the present condition of my own peo- of the forest. iron cage as if he longed for his freedom. Farther on was a sight that caused my spirits to fall; it was the herd of buffa- loes, a remnant of the animals that once held sway in North America. The buffa- lo and Indian go together, and as I gazed on the downcast form of the big brute that still seemed to rule I could not help seeing a corresponding picture out on the plains in the venerable chief with downe cast face and the remains of hjs band hemmed in by a cordon of soldiers. seum. past ages held as curios, and among other things were clothing and impiements be- longing to the Indian race. me that the Indian had already disap- peared as a race. exhibit and other: made !llgxhllng remarks of the different articles. the building to return to the haunts of civilization. v A ain B TAlevwsboy - On Sundays I take a car ride to Golden A few Sundays He lumbered about in his 1 passed on and entered the park mu- There I beheld the products of It seemed to Some marveled at the who were ignorant controlled my feelings and left A few days ago a little fellow approach the Inc t garments of civilization comforts and e 7 T e =& he came out and went away and tol Indian and since t every quarter with, an_Indian?" that impress me deeply. subjects coriers as 1 do and whether or not the Indian will appear as a race. fact that the stronger race alway the weaker and the same Is true Indian. who are educated ELIVAH BROWN THE NEWSROY IN THE GARE OF CIVILIZATION talked freely. He then 1d his friends about the hen I am assailed from “Say, Mister, are you in civilization The people are o ;. Stand on the stre for, Study 1 vou will see very s of man from the refined to the ¢ o3 O Fhere are those who are kind erous and there are those who are There are many things le. There were the magnificent deer and the opposite; there is the busines 3 :lk, but their spirits seemed dull and out and behind him, ;‘;c::; a«:;a:éxer}z. wh of place. Farther on was the monarch “";uevlyml;ulwfl-‘\; e e ileasure. After the strain of the day is over they o to the theater and dance hall and there emselves up to Lolomed the crawa and have landed either the refined high-priced theater or in the underground d of people may be found, dresse: “;'3“ s d their money should be spent in doing good are throw AWAY. time and again for h Go upon or down any of the prinicy Streets at night and from the large num ber of staggering men and lamp-post su porters one can readily see that the It dian is not al fve »njoyment. I have o :in n where every kind from the well- spendthrift to the most degraded woman. There they drink and and lives that The Indian_has been reproached his love for firewater in this obnoxious habi ed the que: I am often a It is an e ter percentage of Indian girls e ares 2 in the Government ools intermarry with the white race thus the process of absorption goes o sec safe retre on. Education, too, is destroy '\‘:‘: he :&;‘e“;&‘){i’ "\%::»r n‘:frem?mil a Filipinc characteristics of "I.‘i-l Tnd!‘ain (x\iy’},,‘l,“:- I replied in a pleasant manner that [ was Take the genuine Indian, depfive Pim 00 not and at the same time toid that I was his long, ur r-f‘vwlr & a rmw N an Indian. He looked frightensd, but blanket and ather Tndian atiire, thew 207 after a few words spoken in a kindly tone ;\{m !rrrxm?‘ N e te Inden dress. I often put it on and am a s ge once more. How diffe it n feel to be free fri t and to en s of the dress of his race s This the Same Paderewski or Another Personpality EREWSKI is no more. The god of the ivory keys, he of the halo halr, the poetic features, the reed- lke grace; moreover, the bachelor; he is but a memory. Instead of him comes another sort of a personality, bearing his name and professing his skill. But this an horn atop; he is a bit stoutish of uild; above all, he is married. Who is the Im; tor? las for the one-time worshipers, ho is none other than the hero of a few years ago, but transformed. True, he still plays the plano, and right skilltully at that, say the critics. But critics are a cold race of beings, who care not & whit for the length of an artist's hair or the build of him, or even the state of his heart, for that matter. By his works they know him. Adoring femininity is different. It 1s & pity to blow away the day dreams that float about that same femininity, but it might as well be done first as last. If it were not done now Paderewskl him- self would attend to the matter when he arrives, and then the grief would be even greater. In plain fact, he is nothing now but an artist. ‘When he left America the last time he took with him $220,000 as his profits from one tour, less the amount left here for the Paderewski fund. Since that time he has been giving private performances in Lon- don at a neat price of 1000 guineas. These performances were mere incidents in tho course of his profession. So it will be #een that he could pretty well afford the extravagence he h: lately indulged in— that of buying a Polish estate upon whicn to settle down in married bliss. It is in the vicinity of Kosna. The house is sixty years old, and there has been no attempt to make it over in accordance with mod- ern ideas of architecture. The planist has chosen to leave it as it always has been; a great sprawling hous spread out in the midst of stretchin; lawns that slope away to meet a forest ‘whose end lies beyond eye-reach. Three- fifths of the vast estate of Kosna con- sists of this forest land, and among the oaks, pines and Scotch firs their owner strays. Perhaps the wind and the trees sing to him as they did to Wagner. Around the house, writes a correspond- ent, is a newly lald out park of some 200 acres, some parts of which have been so recently planted that their perfection will be seen only by another generation. All around are well wooded hills and fertile valleys, watered by swift streams. Away oft to the southeast a sharp, angular line is sketched across a shining sky. This line is made by the peaks of the Car- pathian Mountains. On lazy days the planist can go fishing in his own front yard. There lies an or- namental lake well stocked with carp, and M. Paderewski likkes to catch the carp. He Is human as well as artistic. The house where Mme. Paderewski awaits her husband's return is furnished in dark, warm tones and is as full of silken hangings and cushions as the mod- ern home maker knows how to make it. The old-fashioned style of -building pro- vided two detached wings, and one of these is now used for offices and domestic quarters, the other being reserved for vis. itors. For M. Paderewski has a hospita- ble soul. He likes to sit at the head of his Polish table and see a double line of choice Polish spirits below him.. Not but that he is a true host to the guest of any nationality, but a fellow countryman is a fellow countryman. His friends know this home-love of his. _During one of his visits to New York he ‘was entertained at dinner by an old Ger- man friend, who both knows and can af- ford the good things of this world. Late in the evening the party was invited up- stalrs to the German living-room. They found the room furnished in true German fashion; dark wainscoting, porcelain stove and loaded table. A group of people dressed in Tyrolean costume greeted the uests. It was a delightful surprise to the stranger in a strange land, and M. Pade- rewski did full justice to the convivial oc- casion. “It is home again,” he sighed comfortably, and leaned back dreamily to listen to the serfes of Tyrolean songs that ‘was passing about the table. All of a sudden the guests were startled. A little American girl was at the table— & governess in the German's family. The party had supposed that she understood not a word of the songs, but when her turn came what was thelr surprise to see her calmly stand and sing in the purest German a bewitching topical song that left all previous singers eclipsed. “Brava! fraulein, brava!" shouted M. Paderewski, leaning across the table and aking hands with the modest littie American. Then he deliberately forsook his lionizing friends for the time and en- tered into long and delightful conversa- tion with the little governess. He is as kind as he is brilliant. The oth. er day this same little governess, who is now a music teacher, saw M. Paderew.k! on a traln near Baltimore. She approached bim and with a few words recalled -0 him the incident of their first meeting. ‘Yes, yes; how well I remember,” he exclaimed heartily. And together they settled dow: for another long chatty conversation. The pianist gave his admiring listener many a suggestion concerning the train. Ing of lesser planists, which she has un- dertaken. ‘“Have your pupils memorise & great deal and let them begin as early as possible,” was one bit of advice. “Hold the wrist low and raise the fingers high™ is another maxim. He wound up by say- ing: “A great deal s saild about varions methods, but I think that a good teacher is the best method to take In order to play the plano. Hard work may achieve tech- nique, but touch is born only in the art- ist.” Until starting upon this Amerfcan tour he has been actlvely engaged upon his Polish opera, which will be produced at Dresden upon his return. The title of the opera is not announced, but the composer has confided to a friend that it deals with the gypsies. Paderewski has studied them as few in Europe have ever done, ane he knows their life as if he were one of them. The opera will be preduced under Capell- meister Schurch, and the composer ex- pects to overlook rehearsals. Perhaps this opera means the beginning of the end, so far as our personal knowledge of the man is concerned. He is reported as saying that he will soon abandon his present pro- fession altogetber and devote himselt to composition. “I am not as young as I onca was,” he said. ““and I see clearly that, 20 matter how assiduously I practice, my fin- gers will soon be less supple than th once were. I have thought it advisable to cease playing in public while my reput. tion is still at its height, instead of wait- ing until the public and the critics find cause to remind me that I have lost some- what of my skill and deftness.” There's the artist for you, forsoothl