Wayne Johnson

BIO

Wayne Johnson, author of the critically acclaimed novel DON'T THINK TWICE, grew up in the north lakes region of Minnesota and on the White Earth and Red Lake reservations. He was a Teaching-Writing Fellow of the Iowa Writers' Workshop and is a recipient of the prestigious Wallace Stegner Fellowship from Stanford University. His short fiction has been published in The Atlantic Monthly, Ploughshares, and Story, among others, and has been featured in collections including Prize Stories, The O. Henry Awards, and The Norton Anthology of Literature. He lives in Lawrence, Kansas.

INTERVIEW

October 27, 2000

Wayne Johnson is a very busy up and coming author who is currently impressing audiences with his Native American mysteries, the most recent being SIX CROOKED HIGHWAYS. In this interview with Bookreporter.com's Ann Bruns, Johnson tells us about what it was like growing up on a reservation, explores the background of his recurring character Paul Two Persons, discusses what it means to be "Indian," and much more. Don't miss this insightful and interesting conversation.

TBR: The setting for SIX CROOKED HIGHWAYS is the vast region of the Red Lake Reservation, a location you lived in for many years. Very little has been written about the Chippewa Indians or the area itself. Can you tell us something about what life was like living on this reservation?

WJ: Summers that I lived on the reservation were part bliss --- fishing, hiking in the pines, and working odd jobs; and part hard knocks education --- getting to know the life behind the life there. Early on I loved the quiet, the patter of poplar leaves (so much like rushing water) and whoosh of pines in a breeze, and the broad, broad expanses of stars at night. And powwows, usually toward August. I remember that at a local bowling alley pins were handset by kids chugging Sunset Orange sodas in back.  I helped run telephone lines in around 1972. All we had was a truck, a few hammers, and a massively heavy spool of wire. Autumn was duck hunting, and later, toward November, deer.  And winter?  In Minnesota you didn't stay in. Hockey was big in the Twin Cities and up there.  I remember one year, because I didn't have hockey skates, I tried to make do with racer skates with over foot long blades (my father's vintage 1930s jobs).  I had such bad ankles and was such a lousy skater, it didn't make that much of a difference but then, too, a hockey stick made a pretty good weapon if you were slow on the ice.  All this to say, winter was great fun, but with an edge.

And come spring, in mid-April, there was always this miraculous greening, and then there was opening day, on walleye and bass, and I'd travel up north for it every year with my father and our relatives. The men smoked and drank highballs and talked World War II, and we kids ran through the woods, sometimes with makeshift bows and arrows; and later, with 30.06 and compound bows. Up there it was a beautiful --- and sometimes harsh --- life.  And so it went until the late 60s, when the political realities of the place, and life in general, hit everyone head on.  Vietnam, civil rights --- and with it the coming of the American Indian Movement, long overdue ---women's lib, assassinations, goon squads knocking people off in the Dakotas, and COINTELPRO, the FBI's domestic arm, scurrying around and messing with people.  To say the political climate got hot would be an understatement, unless that "hot" were of an atomic variety.

TBR: Your chief character, Paul Two Persons, was educated at an Ivy League school in the field of biochemistry, but rather than pursue fame and fortune in the white man's world he chose to run a fishing resort close to his Native American home. Your educational background is in microbiology yet, as a writer, you have chosen to focus attention on the land and the people of northern Minnesota. Is there a great deal of Wayne Johnson in Paul Two Persons?

WJ:  I suppose the best way to answer a question like that is to say that Paul's psychology and concerns are compelling to me.  Paul is an amalgam of people I've known, all of whom grew up on the reservation and left, only to return later to provide professional services.  Paul's that kind of person. He's a quintessential "in-betweener."  Educated out east and in a difficult discipline, but one he doesn't use in a professional capacity after --- even though it is now a part of him for all time.  (Even at this moment, I've got Boyle's gas law, formulas for fluid flow, and flashes of stereo-optical isomers, cis or trans, running through my head.)  I think this is a position many of us feel. We are in flow, caught between things, though here with Paul, his worlds are more divergent, more at odds than for most of us.  Paul, for example, isn't a member of the medicine society; yet he knows, through personal experience, how powerful its rituals are.  And for him, ditto with the Catholic church.  It's a powerful mix of influences, ones that demand a great deal of him.

TBR: Despite the fact that SIX CROOKED HIGHWAYS is basically a thriller, much of your novel deals with Paul confronting the political and economic issues that threaten the Chippewa's way of life. Was the road controversy and all it entailed based on actual events? Have commercial developments taken a toll on the people and the environment of this region in recent years?

WJ:  The mining conspiracy in SIX CROOKED HIGHWAYS was based on real events, though events significantly transformed for the purposes of the novel.  But even then, these kinds of bait-and-switch swindles, unfortunately, are not unusual up there.  For example, years back there was an extraordinary storm, of the severity that knocked down so many trees recently north of the Gunflint Trail.  The lumber companies, wanting to "harvest" the downed trees, had Congress pass a Windfall Act to get them across reservation lines. Despite protests from the local bands of Chippewa, the lumber companies, with federally sanctioned impunity, clear-cut whole areas including areas where there were no downed trees whatsoever.  

Environmental impacts? In the early 90s, a paper company was spewing methyl mercury into the English Wabigoon River until people downstream began to suffer mysterious tremors and organic brain dysfunction. The government's response? Near the affected lakes and streams, signs were put up with fish on them, and under the fish, a plate with knife and fork on either side of it, and over that, a red circle and slash, meaning: Don't Eat the Fish.  This in an area where sport fishing and dependence on fish as a food source were critical.  So, yes, there have been profound environmental impacts, ones that tribal governments are trying to deal with day in and day out.

TBR: Paul's wife, Gwen, appears to be a strong, supportive force in his life; yet there are times when he's reluctant to share what he's done, or what he's uncovered in his investigations. Is this just his nature, or a way of demonstrating that despite their marriage, she's still an outsider when it comes to understanding the ways of Native Americans?

WJ:  Paul is reluctant to share certain things with Gwen for a number of reasons, one being that he feels what he's up against is his responsibility and his alone. There's a way of thinking up there that can be loosely translated as "The Law of Non-Interference," which means you solve problems of a personal nature without outside help.  Paul, to his detriment, thinks of his problems arising out of tribal politics in this way, and so he doesn't bring Gwen into those concerns.  And there is the specter of their lost son in the workings of their relationship, any mention of which is an occasion of pain for both of them.  So Paul tries to deal with trouble of any kind quietly and without fuss.  It's an old and bad habit, sometimes even a mistake, especially with Gwen because he has no idea how tough she is, or just what resources she could bring to bear on his difficulties.  And, too, Paul is recreating himself.  He's not sure how much Gwen could take of his past, personal and cultural, of the complicated life under all that beautiful surface, before she might change her mind about him.  But what he doesn't know is this: Gwen understands all that.  It's Paul that has yet to discover the real Gwen.

TBR: I had to laugh at the scene where Paul insures that one of his resort patrons has an exciting fishing adventure. I remember my parents being awed that our Indian guide had some mystical knowledge of just where the fish would be biting that day. Are many of these small fishing resorts still in operation around the Red Lake area? Or have they succumbed to other business ventures like casinos and golf courses?

WJ:  Actually there are hundreds of small places up north, anything from particle board shanties for outback fishermen bent on taking home trophy lake trout, to mansion-like resorts with all the amenities.  Some of the smaller places are losing out.  Diversification seems to be a must.  But some of those small places can't be beat --- the ones with furniture made of antlers, coke in bottles in freezer type coolers, Roger Miller and Frank Sinatra and Patsy Cline on the jukebox or turntable, and the distant putter of a generator powering just the essentials.  Places with names like Manitou Lodge, Sabaskong Bay, or Ikwabe Island, where you fish, read, bask in the sun, swim, go looking for petroglyphs, explore islands, hunt for turn of the century glass, pick your own blueberries, dance powwow nights and maybe sing crazy 49ers after with a group of Shinobs bent on having a good time ...

TBR: Paul seems to be seeking a peaceful compromise between the reality of providing jobs and financial independence for his people, and preserving their culture without the corrupting influences of assimilation into a white man's world. Do you feel it's possible to achieve a positive blend of both worlds without undermining the heart and soul of Native American cultures?

WJ:  I think tied up in the equation of preservation of Native American culture is the preservation of livelihood and land base. You can't talk about one without the other. Not in any traditional sense. Yet, a presently hotly debated topic at Haskell Indian Nations University, here in Lawrence, Kansas, is, what is Indian? Who is Indian? There's some hair splitting going on, but some serious consideration being given to the political ramifications of these questions, too. And, as well, it's not so much a question of preservation as direction. What specific things must at all odds be upheld?  

European influence is a historical fact. In Minnesota, the French fur traders' arming the Anishinabeg (Chippewa) against the Lakota (Sioux) changed the course of history nearly four centuries ago. But the deep structures of both cultures, even given that, remain fairly consistent --- this, more than anything, through the passing down of a life on the land, with all its complexities and rituals.  It's a life with deep and powerful roots.  So, yes.  I do believe the heart of Native America will continue to exist despite "corrupting" influences, because of the strength of that heart, but also because I think we contemporary Americans very badly need it, whether we would admit that or not.

TBR: The tribal council in SIX CROOKED HIGHWAYS is portrayed as giving financial considerations priority over the welfare of their people. In Oklahoma in recent years, Cherokee politics has become vicious and divisive; creating leadership that appears to be largely self-serving.  Is this common among tribal councils around the country? Is ineffective leadership the biggest problem for many of the Native American nations?

WJ:  To understand why tribal politics become so complex one has to understand the people involved.  Let's just take the Chippewa, for example.  The name Chippewa is a misnomer, a Canadian-French bastardization of Ojibway, a name given to this group by enemies.  The "Chippewa" call themselves Anishinabeg, The original People or People of Good Intention, depending on translation.  Chippewa is the name used by the Minnesota legislature, however, so since we're dealing with politics, I will let the irony of an incorrect name stand here.

Within this one tribe in Minnesota are the: 1.)  Metis, French Chippewa, mixed-blood descendants of the indigenous population and fur traders who began working the area in the 1600s,  2.)  Sagwade, German or Swedish Chippewa, mixed-blood descendants of the indigenous population and homesteaders,  3.)  Findians, Finnish Chippewa, mixed-blood descendants of the indigenous population and miners who moved up from the Mesabi Iron Range when the iron business collapsed, and 4.)  Full bloods, who have inhabited this specific region for over four hundred years.  (If you follow this group east, the direction from which they migrated, histories go back thousands of years.)

In the period between 1850 and the present, the Metis, since they've been allied with the Catholic church, have had the most political power. Also, the church had funds to send its Indian students away to be educated out east, often, early on, to Dartmouth which in its charter specifically set out to aid Native Americans. So, even now, there are numerous Metis power figures in Chippewa politics. The Sagwade, generally members of Protestant churches, inherited agrarian concerns from their German and Swedish forbears. The Findians (this term is sometimes used disparagingly in northern Minnesota, but I do not do so here), being relative newcomers, tend toward the Protestant affiliations and the political concerns of that group.  And the Full Bloods? The Full Bloods are usually the most vocal proponents of measures to protect traditional lifeways --- hunting, fishing, ricing --- and the reservation; land base.

Now, put all these individuals (and I've just scratched the surface of the difference here) under one tribal council roof, and ask yourself what would happen with a bill to "selectively mine phosphates" in an area adjacent to a graveyard, or prime rice beds, or near an area known to be a great fishing spot. (Realize, phosphate run-off promotes the growth of parasitic aquatic grasses now come over from Asia --- ones that kill fish).  Let's call the company Naxxon, and as the debate heats up, have Naxxon dump more money into the pot, but make it funny money, hypothetical, when-the-business-is-up-and-running money.   

Then toss in a Supreme Court judgment on the reclaimed land the proposed site is on, negating the tax-exempt status of that land in the middle of the debate, and have the Red Lake band file a counter suit in the US Court of Appeals.  You could even add to this that since the reorganization act of 1941, when the Chiefs system of government was abolished and the system of decision by majority put in place by the BIA, you could have two or three Apples, red on the outside white on the inside, sitting on your council. Apples influenced --- read bribed or threatened --- by outside interests; apples who could swing a majority vote. And these are the most basic considerations.

All of this fascinates me because the results are tangible and the players are individuals with incredibly diverse histories and life stories.  And when the arguments and battles get rolling? Oftentimes all of the parties are right, every last one. There are some heartbreaking decisions to be made.  People lose century farms, then the land is tied up in court and no one can use it.  Should BIA, or tribal, monies be allocated to bail out a failing business, one that employs fifty people? Or should the money go for new farm gear, for education, for a new clinic, for a program to shore up rice beds --- who should say?

TBR: Can you explain a little bit about the privatizing of Indian lands within a reservation? Does it require approval of the tribal council? If so, why would they approve privatizing or leasing land to outside companies, and thereby relinquishing their rights to the profits from those enterprises?

WJ:  Again, to respond to your question, I am going to put down a few basics, just for the sake of illustration.  In the late 19th century, the Dawes Act was passed, also called the Individual Allotment Act.  The Act divided reservations into parcels, with members on any given reservation accepting those acres then as "private property." A rider on the bill made it possible for Indians of mixed descent to sell those parcels to the land hungry immigrants flooding over from Europe, and to prospectors from the east coast.   

Now, realize, there had never been a concept of private ownership of land among the Chippewa, nor had these people any experience with taxes, which, after their land had been made private, they were forced to pay. A great deal of land, then, was stolen in short order for nonpayment of property tax. And back then, Catholic clergy were enlisted by the lumber companies to ferret from genealogies the European ancestors of Indians having desirable land --- the joke among the Chippewa being that clergy would go back to Adam and Eve if they had to, to get their tidy profit for identifying mixed-bloods for the lumber companies.  

To give a dimension to the size of the theft, let's take one reservation for example, White Earth.  When this band of Chippewa accepted the White Earth Reservation in compensation for lands ceded further east, the White Earth reservation was 875,000 acres in size.  Today, the White Earth Band of Chippewa are in legal possession of a little over 50,000 of those original acres, some of them reclaimed. And now, since the recent Supreme Court ruling, those reclaimed acres no longer have tax exempt status (which prohibits outside business interest in development).  

Unlike the White Earth Band, the Red Lake Band did not accept the Dawes Act (they are one of two bands nationwide that did not accept it), so the entire Red Lake reservation is communally owned. Still, though, there is a complex system of leases in place, many of them ninety-nine year leases. Since the tribe did not, and for the most part still does not now, have the resources to make extensive inventories of resources, absolute land value is anybody's guess.  (There is gold up there, for example, but of a kind that requires expensive extraction.  If a cheaper extraction method were arrived at this would affect, again, land values.)   

And there is the legality of what is granted in a lease, too. Anything from a simple permit for domicile --- putting up a cabin, say --- to full blown mineral and logging rights can be negotiated.  But even when there is a consensus sale bad things can happen.  A case the Red Lake Band was fighting over --- lands ceded outright for BIA services that were never delivered --- went on for over forty years, from 1951 until just recently.  At one time, the now defunct Indian Claims Commission had 90,000 pages of material on this one case.  And in the meantime, people were literally starving and freezing to death for lack of supplies. When I was a kid, and I heard all this up there, and from people I cared for, it shocked me.  I thought, this isn't right.  And I still think that.

TBR: You've engaged in a wide variety of professions from a US Forest Service surveyor to English professor at the University of Iowa, San Francisco State, and the University of Kansas. Did you always know you wanted to be a writer or was this something you discovered along the way?

WJ:  I actually began writing when I was ten or so --- I always loved and had an interest in narrative --- but was steered, and not too subtly, into the sciences.  After over a decade of labs, classes, a degree program in microbiology, and even jobs in the sciences (for example, I was for a time a plant breeder) I got back into writing.  I had some luck, studied with Jane Smiley, Madison Bell, James Alan McPherson, Frank Conroy, William Trevor and others.  I very badly wanted to pen a number of things, and I just moved in that direction as much as possible and kept on moving.

TBR: Which do you believe is tougher --- teaching the elements of writing or doing the writing?

WJ:  The writing for me is the real thing.  That's what it's all about.  I can say, though, that having struggled to find solutions to narrative problems of all kinds myself, I can help other writers seeking solutions to their narrative difficulties. Doing that can be exciting and very rewarding.  And with a student's work you have the advantage of distance, you're not caught up in the infinite number of details of the real life experience that gave birth to the story you are examining.  You have a level of detachment that allows you to say, for example, why set this story in two locations --- what does it buy you? Or, you've written a non-resolution story --- what's the payoff for the reader? So, I enjoy teaching, but the writing is my passion.  For me, as many authors have already said, writing can be the hardest thing there is, but the most rewarding.

TBR: What writers have inspired you throughout the years? Who do you read for enjoyment?

WJ:  Hemingway, more than any other. Dostoyevsky. Steinbeck. Faulkner.  Flaubert.  I was a Kafka fan for some time.  Sherwood Anderson.  Knut Hamsun.  The early Joyce. Now I greatly enjoy and admire the writing of Tobias Wolff, Alice Munro, James Alan McPherson, Madison Bell, E. Annie Proulx, Jane Smiley, Philip Roth, Richard Ford, and John Updike --- especially the "Rabbit" books. For fun?  Bill Bryson.  Elmore Leonard.  The early James Lee Burke books --- THE NEON RAIN, for example.  Carl Hiaasen.

TBR: How do you view Native American literature on the whole? Is there a shortfall of quality literature depicting Native American characters and settings?  

WJ:  How do I view Native American literature on the whole? Let me answer with names: Louise Erdrich, James Welch, Linda Hogan, Leslie Silko, and N. Scott Momaday.  Stellar stuff and lasting.  Sure, we could use more work of this caliber.

TBR: What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

WJ:  Try, as much as possible, to pour your life into those things you love.

TBR: Is there another novel in the works? Will Paul Two Persons be featured?

WJ:  I've got a few things in the works.  A new and larger novel dealing with a conspiracy of global proportions.  New Paul Two Persons' books.  Two collections of short stories I haven't shown around (all the pieces in them having been published in places like The Atlantic Monthly or Story or Ploughshares).  A book set in Hollywood, where I lived while I was a Chesterfield Writers' Film Project Fellow.  And there's more.  I'm working on a screenplay for a well-known independent company.  So, I'm busy.

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