Latest news with #NezPerce
Epoch Times
2 days ago
- General
- Epoch Times
Chief Joseph: Servant-Leader and Guardian of His People
Throughout the summer of 1877, a band of the Nez Perce tribe engaged in a 1,170 mil e-lo ng flight and running battle with forces of the U.S. Army. Driven from their homeland in the Wallowa Valley of northeastern Oregon Territory, and led by several chiefs, they fled across the Idaho T erritory. Men, women, children, and horses, crossed int o Montana as they sought escape across the Canadian border. Exhausted and hungry, and their numbers diminished by pitched battles, they made a final stand in the Bear Paw Mountains. They were still in Montana—only 40 miles from Canada. The American public followed this exodus through the newspapers of the day. Readers reacted differently to this war between U.S. troopers and Indians than to other conflicts fought in the Great Plains over the previous 40 years. Many Americans, including members of Congress and the soldiers engaged in these battles, came to admire the Nez Perce for their endurance, bravery, and humanity.
Otago Daily Times
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Otago Daily Times
Carving out a space
Lily Gladstone's new movie gives people a reason to laugh, writes Moira Macdonald. For Lily Gladstone, Oscar nominee (best actress for Killers of the Flower Moon ), the past year has brought a definite shift in the kind of roles being offered to her. "The characters I am seeing now are not explicitly Native characters," Gladstone, who made Academy Awards history last year as the first Native American best actress nominee, says. "For a long time, that was exclusively what I was seeing, for better or worse." Now, many of the scripts being sent her way don't specify the character's identity — such as her role in The Wedding Banquet , Andrew Ahn's new reimagining of Ang Lee's 1993 art house classic. "I think it's a lovely moment for film representation now, that audiences see themselves in whoever is portraying the character," Gladstone says. She appreciates the opportunity to portray the character, who on paper may not share her identity, as indigenous (Gladstone's tribal affiliations include Blackfeet and Nez Perce) — and "to show that we're still here, we exist in every space". In The Wedding Banquet , Gladstone plays a Seattle woman named Lee, in a longtime relationship with her partner Angela (Kelly Marie Tran) and trying to get pregnant via in vitro fertilisation — an expensive prospect that could possibly be funded by Angela agreeing to marry their friend Min (Han Gi-chan), a wealthy young gay man in need of a hasty green card marriage. Complications ensue, not least for Min's partner Chris (Bowen Yang), Angela's gay-activist mother May (Joan Chen) and Min's very traditional Korean grandmother Ja-Young (Youn Yuh-jung). Lee originally had a different name and not much specificity to her background; Gladstone, working with Ahn, saw the opportunity to give the character a very Pacific Northwest story. The character became a member of the Duwamish Tribe, giving a brief speech in the film about her connection to the land and to her family home, in which she now lives with Angela. "I haven't seen Duwamish representation on screen," Gladstone says. "When I talked to Andrew about making it locally specific, I talked about how indigenising my character was important to me — when you have an opportunity to carve space where there's not space, you take it." She also spent time in Seattle with Ahn and some crew members, doing a bit of unofficial location scouting. "I drove them around the neighbourhoods that I felt this family would be living in." "I showed them Ballard — there's a large Native population in Ballard. ... We went by Discovery Park, where Chris may have birded." (Yang's character is an avid bird-watcher.) And the character's name became Angeline as a nod to Chief Seattle's daughter, though she goes by Lee. Laughing, Gladstone pointed out that they were midway through filming before somebody realised that the "ship name," or relationship name, of the two characters — Angela and Lee — was Ang Lee. Making The Wedding Banquet was a chance for Gladstone to reacquaint herself with an early love: comedy. As a child doing theatre, "I was always trying to make people laugh," she says. "A lot of people were surprised that I turned into such a dramatic actress." She'd long wanted to make a romantic comedy, as part of an ensemble cast, and embraced the opportunity. "Even though Lee is sort of the straight man to everyone else's chaos, getting the chance to be as cartoony and goofy as I am naturally was really nice." The film, Gladstone believes, will create "a safe and necessary space" for the queer community and for immigrant families during a time of political and social upheaval. "There are so many themes in the story that represent so many communities that are just under attack right now. We didn't anticipate that the story was going to be so timely." She believes that audiences will especially appreciate the film's inclusive story of chosen family. "The gift that I'm really grateful this film gives people is hope." — TCA
Yahoo
16-03-2025
- Yahoo
I Ate My Way Through Montana's Cattle Country—and Found the Perfect Steak
As I stood atop a rocky precipice in central Montana, the most striking thing before me was nothing. More precisely, it was space: the all-encompassing nothingness for which the West is famous. It was off this cliff that thundering herds of bison once jumped, driven to their death by the Native peoples who hunted them for their meat, hides, and bones. 'At least 13 tribes used the jump, including Shoshone-Bannock, Nez Perce, Assiniboine, and Crow,' Clark Carlson-Thompson, the manager at First Peoples Buffalo Jump State Park, told me. 'The bone bed is 18 to 22 feet deep. A lot of bison went over that cliff.' The park was my first stop on a journey across Montana's vast grasslands to trace the story of the West through its cattle ranches and the meat they produced. As I looked up from the site of so many bison deaths, I surveyed the plain of brilliant green that seemed to stretch for miles to the horizon. The view is so expansive, the local joke goes, you could watch your dog run away for three days. I hiked back to my car. The sun was low in the sky, and I was getting hungry. Fortunately, I didn't need to send any shaggy beasts over a cliff to procure my dinner. A short drive away, in the tiny settlement of Ulm, was the Beef N Bone Steakhouse, a casual restaurant with a fireplace that specializes in Montana beef and bison. Bison meat is often touted for its health benefits because it has far less fat than beef, but the lack of fat rendered the steak a little too lean for my taste. The history of Montana, where I live, is in many ways the history of cattle ranching. Native peoples hunted the great herds on these grassy plains for generations, and the animals were essential to survival. But by the end of the 1870s the bison had been nearly wiped out by settlers and the U.S. Army and were replaced by cattle, which could be more easily herded and driven to market. The beef industry was central to life in Montana during the 19th and early 20th centuries, feeding people who were mining gold and copper and cutting timber. After dinner I drove almost an hour east to Fort Benton, where I stayed at the elegant Grand Union Hotel, a slice of Montana's 19th-century history. Founded in 1846, Fort Benton lured cowboys and miners who arrived on horseback or by steamboat on the Missouri River. Related: 20 Best Places to Visit in Montana, According to Local Experts Among the first ranchers was Conrad Kohrs, a fortune seeker from Holstein, in what is now Germany. He arrived in 1862, during the Treasure State's gold rush, and became a butcher, selling beef to hungry miners. As their numbers continued to grow, Kohrs purchased a ranch in the Deer Lodge Valley, a vast meadowland near Butte; 20 years later, he had increased his holdings to more than 1 million acres and 50,000 head of cattle. I spent a couple of days in Butte, one of the places Kohrs did business, wandering among the remnants of the once-great mining town. At its height some 100,000 people called it home; the population now hovers around 36,000. A giant open pit sits in the center of town, a lasting scar from the ravages of mining. I checked in to Hotel Finlen, a French-inspired building from 1924. Its glory is somewhat faded and the refurbished rooms are small, but the hotel is comfortable and the lobby, with its high ceilings and chandeliers, is grand and well preserved. Related: 20 Best Places to Visit in Montana, According to Local Experts Butte has many prosperous-looking historic buildings, which may explain why 1923, the prequel to the hit TV series Yellowstone, was filmed there. For dinner, I went to Casagranda's Steakhouse, which occupies a 1900s brick warehouse on what feels like the edge of town. The rib eye—sourced, like all of the restaurant's beef, from ranches in the Rocky Mountains—was rubbed with a savory spice blend. The center was medium rare, a garnet shade, and so tender I could cut it with a fork. It might have been one of the best steaks I have ever eaten. The following day I drove about a half-hour north to the Grant-Kohrs Ranch National Historic Site. The National Park Foundation bought the land from Conrad Kohrs's grandson in the early 1970s and it now operates as a working, 19th-century-style cattle ranch with cows, chickens, and horses. 'This area is a sea of grass,' a volunteer told me. 'Beef is about all you can grow.' Staffers and volunteers role-play as cowboys and camp cooks. As I sipped a strong, robust coffee that was brewed over a smoky campfire, I was reminded that a scene from 1923 was shot there, with mountains as a backdrop. While cattle barons may seem like a throwback, their spirits still rule in Big Sky Country. Sprawling ranches are dotted with hundreds of Hereford, shorthorn, and longhorn cattle and the cowboys who herd them. Cowboy culture persists, though it has been modernized with things like microchipped cows and GPS trackers; it won't be long, they say, before drones will do the herding. Ranch ownership has changed, as well. Montana's wide-open spaces have exerted a powerful pull on wealthy out-of-staters; Tom Brokaw, David Letterman, and Rupert Murdoch are among those who own trophy spreads. Though they face their share of challenges, smaller family ranches survive and are looking for ways to thrive. On my last day, I drove to Helena, Montana's capital, where I met Cole Mannix, cofounder and president of the Old Salt Co-Op, a meat supplier that sources beef from five local farms, including his family's ranch in the Blackfoot Valley. During the pandemic, Mannix told me, with meatpacking staff falling ill and restaurants closing, the supply chain for cattle processing broke down. Rising land prices and competition from cheaper foreign beef had already been challenges. Mannix and other ranching families decided it was time to eliminate the middleman and sell their beef on their own. Today, much of what they raise is sold in Montana. Mannix also owns and runs two restaurants, including the Old Salt Outpost, a small burger shop inside the Gold Bar saloon in downtown Helena. The burgers are made with grass-fed beef raised by the local ranches; the potatoes, from a farm 60 miles away, are fried in beef fat. Across the street is Mannix's second restaurant, the Union, a modern wood-fired grill and butcher shop with meat sourced from the ranches in the Old Salt Co-Op. It serves different steak cuts nightly. I ordered the well-marbled rib eye, medium rare, smothered in marrow butter with a side of smashed purple potatoes. It was, in a word, delicious. And knowing it was part of a centuries-long tradition on the prairies of Montana made it taste even better. A version of this story first appeared in the May 2025 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline 'A Taste of the Old West.' Read the original article on Travel & Leisure
Yahoo
27-01-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Not in our town, not in our community, not here
A sign in Riverside Park in Laurel, Montana commemorating the Nez Perce's "Trail of Tears." In September 1877, a band of Chief Joseph's tribe encamped near the spot (Photo by Darrell Ehrlick of the Daily Montanan). I suppose if Yellowstone County Commission Chairman Mark Morse can make a plea to use public property as detention camps, using the power of his position as justification to speak for all county residents, then I'd ask our Congressional delegation to consider this perspective from another longtime county resident. I urge our all-Republican delegation of Reps. Troy Downing and Ryan Zinke, along with Sens. Tim Sheehy and Steve Daines to remember Yellowstone County's decidedly mixed history of how we've treated those who didn't look like the majority or speak the same language. And please counterbalance Morse's enthusiasm with the respect due to the county's rather ignoble past, and I would ask sincerely not to add to the trauma of this county's history. Put simply: If there must be round-ups and raids, which seems wholly unnecessary in a place like Montana which doesn't have a single immigration court or judge in the state, then literally for God's sake and ours, not here, not in our town. We have borne witness to what happens when we attack the strangers, and we have also stood proudly against such measures. This is our history: There is a sizable number of us who don't want a land that is already filled with historical sorrow to be burdened with a new chapter of agony. Since most of you are not from Yellowstone County, and even the one person who was born in Montana in our Congressional delegation was from one of the northern counties, not Yellowstone, I wanted to remind you of the rocky relationship this place has had with 'the others' and beg you as a historian and writer not to add to that history, which while not proud, nonetheless needs recalling at moments like this. The Rims which provide that same backdrop for the Metra were also nearby the place the Apsaalooké people's grief-stricken families jumped off the cliffs as a sacrifice to save their tribe and other family members during an epic smallpox outbreak in the 1830s — this valley and city surrounded by eternal markers of suffering, misery and uncertainty. Surely, that history alone would be enough for reconsideration. But, there's more in this place. My own last name was changed because my great-grandparents were fearful of the angry mobs who terrorized neighborhoods in places like Billings, Laurel and Red Lodge, hunting people they thought were suspiciously foreign, or not enthusiastic enough about America's entry into World War I. Some were run out of town. Some were marched through city streets by torchlight. Others were imprisoned in Deer Lodge. Even though I spent a large chunk of time in Laurel, where my grandparents lived, when we had gatherings, reunions and picnics at Riverside Park there, I have always had an uneasy feeling because I remember them telling me about a time when it was used as a housing camp for prisoners of war during World War II. A few relatives recalled speaking the low Volga German with the Germans who had been captured. They remembered the barbed wire and the army outfits, a haunting and eerie thing for a child who remembers the incongruity of a playground being where these people were forcibly held, a world away from the place they knew as home. The Hispanic community in Yellowstone County has a rich and vibrant history, including an annual fiesta celebration that is more than a century old here. I fear for those wonderful community members whose own family roots run just as deeply here as mine. And, keep in mind as our leaders contemplate using county property as a round-up facility, that not so long ago, this was the same community that rallied when Jewish families were being targeted. I am and was a member of the church that had its windows shot out for putting up a Menorah. I worry that using MetraPark to round up people is the opposite of what the community began with the 'Not In Our Town' movement. We have stood proudly as we've welcomed the stranger, something commanded repeatedly in the Bible, which our President apparently reveres so much he cannot cite a favorite book or verse, but has no qualms selling it as a tchotchke. We do not accept that our taxpayer-funded property will be used as the place where we rounded up immigrants, just because they were foreigners and strangers. Morse's enthusiasm to demonstrate his Trump bonafides and loyalty shouldn't stain this facility and place, which sits in the heart of the largest Montana city, as a tool of punishment and dehumanization. If the leadership of this country is literally hellbent on such a program, not here. Consider this an objection from the great-grandson of those who came here to harvest crops and found their way into citizenship, grateful for their new homeland. It is indeed time for the next generation to welcome our brothers and sisters. And speaking of that, let's not play clever word games that literally whitewash the reality of what is going to happen. This is no detention, like a teenager who has been acting poorly. The reality of the situation is that if we deport many of these men, women and families, they may go back to a country that will imprison, torture or even kill them. This is no detention as much as it could be the prelude to a death sentence. And I as a resident of Yellowstone County want no part of that.
