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INDIAN
SCRFIOOL DAYS
BASIL IH, JOINS TON
University of Oklahoma Press: Norman
By Basil H. Johnston
Ojibway Heritage (Toronto, 1976)
Moose Meat and Wild Rice (Toronto, 1978)
Ojibway Ceremonies (Toronto, 1983)
Indian School Days (Toronto, 1988)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-40217
ISBN: 0-8061-2226-9
The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of
the Committee on Production Guidelines of Book Longevity of the Council on
Library Resources, Inc. ~
Published by the University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, Publishing Division
of the University, by arrangement with Key Porter Books Limited, Ontario, Canada.
Copyright © 1988 by Basil H. Johnston. All rights reserved. First printing of the
University of Oklahoma Press edition, 1989.
od 425° 6) 28 9.1 0 21
Contents
Introduction
Spanish! 3
Sentenced to Spanish 19
A Day in the Life of Spanish 28
Holidays and Holy Days 48
The Year Round 67
Summer Holidays 92
Escape and Near-Escape from Spanish 103
The Cattle Drive 116
The Best-Laid Plans... 123
Neither Felons nor Angels: And One Beast L3/
Farewell, Spanish Justice, and Farewell 156
Return to Spanish 164
New Learning and Cultural Conflict 181
Football, Chemistry and Tired Chickens 137
The Bean Rebellion and Graduation 218
Glossary 245
Appendix: The Boys and Girls of Spanish 246
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Introduction
Spanish! In its most common application the word refers to a citizen of
Spain, and his or her language, and evokes romantic images of
senoritas and dons, matadors and conquistadors, flamenco dancers
and Don Quixote, castles and courts of inquisition.
Spanish! But the word has another application less romantic than
the first. It is the name of a small village, a pinpoint on the map, in
northern Ontario about 130 km west of Sudbury on Highway 17 and
200 km or so from Sault Ste. Marie.
Once, according to the old-timers, Spanish was a bustling village,
thriving on timber and lumber and destined for growth and pros-
perity. But the village’s prospects declined as those of Blind River and
Espanola improved, so that in the 1930s and 1940s Spanish was
struggling to keep from becoming a ghost town like Spragge. What
kept the village from extinction in the 1930s were “the school” and
the Depression; the residents had nowhere to go. And what kept the
village from complete abandonment during the 1940s was the war and
“the school.” All the able-bodied men had gone to Europe and other
places more exotic than Spanish; the women, the very old, and the
very young were there, rooted, with nowhere else to go.
The people of Spanish had nowhere to go and little to do. The
monotony of their existence was broken once in a while by the arrival
of the Swiss Bell Ringers, the showing of a film, the holding of a
church bazaar, a Christmas concert, a funeral or two. Once the
Canadian Armed Forces gave a demonstration of efficiency and
strength to tempt more recruits from the area. A large crowd as-
sembled to watch Bren-gun carriers crawl and claw over the tracks
and rocks; overhead Avro Ansons flew, with bombardiers throwing
out sacks that looked like small bundles of flour but were supposed to
represent bombs and bombing. During the course of this demonstra-
tion the commanding officer invited able-bodied young men to ride
1
2 INDIAN SCHOOL DAYS
these wretched little vehicles that squeaked and rattled and reeked of
oil. All the boys from “the school” volunteered for a free ride. “Me,
sir! .. . Me, sir,” but were refused with, “You’re too small! Some of
you might be ready in a couple of years.” Eventually the officer espied
a fine-looking candidate in the Spanish crowd. “There! You! You,
back there! ... Yes! You! You’re a fine specimen. Why aren’t you in
the army? Would you like to ride in this latest-model armoured
vehicle?” The candidate shook his head. ‘No, sir!’ But the officer
insisted. ““The Canadian Army has extended you an invitation. . . sir!
The Canadian Army is not accustomed to having its invitations
turned down... sir!”
Two soldiers wearing black arm-bands with the letters MP on them
in white hustled the fine-looking young man into the carrier, which
promptly set off at top speed, roaring and rattling, bouncing and
careening and crawling in and out of the ditch that separated the
railway and the highway. The Avro Ansons returned, and a flour
bomb was tossed out just as the Bren-gun carrier climbed out of the
ditch. The “bomb” fell on the carrier and exploded in a cloud of white
powder; the carrier keeled over amid a torrent of curses and a grinding
of gears. The soldiers leaped out of the carrier, but the fine-looking
young man rolled on the ground, holding his left arm, and moaning
and cursing the “‘bas--—-s.”’ His arm was broken.
The demonstration ended then and there. Although the officer
tried to sound and appear collected as he invited the fine-looking
young men of Spanish to come to the Lake Huron Hotel to “sign up,”
the conviviality of the occasion cooled off and the men and women
drifted back sullenly to their homes and their lives, to resume chop-
ping wood, weeding their gardens, scrubbing the floors, hauling
water for their laundry, scraping their knuckles raw once or twice
weekly on the scrubbing board, preparing their salt pork and baloney
in hundreds of combinations for their broods or doing whatever they
had been doing before the interruption.
There was little to relieve the monotony of working, eating, and
sleeping; the town had no library, no theatre, no dance hall. But there
was a railway station, which served as a meeting place and provided a
pastime, however brief. The train stopped twice a day, once at 10:30
A.M. on its way to Sault Ste. Marie and again at 7:30 P.M. on its return
