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where the salmon run - Washington Secretary of State

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spirit <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r 21<br />

to Grandmo<strong>the</strong>r. “Don’t know what’s wrong with us.” “You’re down<br />

<strong>the</strong>re making fun . . . <strong>where</strong> we pray down <strong>the</strong>re,” Grandmo<strong>the</strong>r<br />

scolded. “We got <strong>the</strong>se sticks that are powerful. You guys are down<br />

<strong>the</strong>re and you’re making fun . . . that’s why you don’t feel good.”<br />

Qu-lash-qud was just a kid <strong>the</strong> first time he spied a white man. A<br />

group <strong>of</strong> whites “menacingly approached” <strong>the</strong> longhouse and ransacked<br />

<strong>the</strong> place while <strong>the</strong> boy watched through a crack in a rain<br />

barrel. The memory <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> armed horsemen never left his mind.<br />

“Gramps would sometimes have fears and he’d relate back to raids<br />

against Indians when he was a little boy,” Hank Adams recalls. “White<br />

marauders would come in with guns and be threatening Indians, or<br />

beating Indians. He’d talk about hiding under barrels and hiding<br />

under different things. This would be in <strong>the</strong> 1880s and 1890s.”<br />

Throughout his life, Qu-lash-qud told chilling stories <strong>of</strong> disease<br />

ravaging <strong>the</strong> Indian people. “Let me tell you about this one—what I<br />

heard. A ship come here on Puget Sound and <strong>the</strong> ship was throwing<br />

brand new blankets, suit <strong>of</strong> clo<strong>the</strong>s, underwear and <strong>the</strong> Indians on<br />

<strong>the</strong> shore got in <strong>the</strong>ir canoes and went and got all that stuff. And<br />

brought <strong>the</strong>m ashore. And come to find out all those clo<strong>the</strong>s and<br />

blankets were smallpox. The ship had smallpox. And so all <strong>the</strong> Indians<br />

got smallpox, from <strong>the</strong> mouth <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> river to La Grande. They all died<br />

<strong>of</strong>f. Smallpox killed <strong>the</strong>m all. See when I come to, <strong>the</strong>re was just a few<br />

Indians. I’d say just about 300 living on <strong>the</strong> reservation.”<br />

The staggering losses drove many to drink, writes Norman Clark<br />

in The Dry Years: Prohibition and Social Change in <strong>Washington</strong>: “In<br />

<strong>the</strong>ir sorrow . . . <strong>the</strong> Indians finally reached for <strong>the</strong> bottle <strong>of</strong> rum<br />

which <strong>the</strong> fur traders had been <strong>of</strong>fering <strong>the</strong>m. In <strong>the</strong> white man’s<br />

liquor <strong>the</strong>y found a source <strong>of</strong> ecstasy and release from <strong>the</strong>ir grief.”<br />

“Pretty soon American come over in wagon trains and <strong>the</strong>y had bad<br />

whiskey,” said Qu-lash-qud. “Indians now fight and kill each o<strong>the</strong>r<br />

after <strong>the</strong>y had bad whiskey American brought over.”

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