Amid Rising Discord Over Indian Images, F.S.U. Has Harmony
Before every kickoff at Doak Campbell Stadium in Tallahassee, Fla., a Florida State student in facial war paint and an American Indian costume steers a spotted Appaloosa to midfield. As the horse rises on its hind legs, the rider, who is not an Indian, thrusts a flaming spear into the turf to the crazed accompaniment of the crowd’s droning chant and an arm gesture called the tomahawk chop.
Saturday will be different, though, but not because a nationwide debate is swirling around the Washington Redskins’ nickname or because some universities have re-examined their depiction of Native American culture.
Remaining unimpeachable, a 35-year ritual at Seminoles football games will merely be tweaked so the fiery weapon can be handed off and flung by the former coach Bobby Bowden.
There will probably not be a peep of protest.
The Seminole Tribe of Florida has granted written permission for the university to borrow symbols of its heritage. While other tribes have pressed institutions to amend certain traditions or abandon nicknames and logos, Florida State enjoys the imprimatur of its sports teams’ namesake.
“We Seminoles embrace that mascot,” Chief James Billie, the tribe’s chairman, said. “They honor us.”
Florida State students voted on the nickname in 1947, when the all-women college became coeducational and started a football program. (Other nominees included Golden Falcons, Indians and Crackers.)
The pregame theater featuring the characters Renegade (horse) and Osceola (human) was introduced in 1978, recalling a phase of history both meaningful and painful to Indians. Within a few years, the routine had ignited enough objections, primarily from civil rights and Indian activist groups, that the university pondered discarding it.
“There was pressure to change the nickname,” said Dale Lick, F.S.U.’s president in the early 1990s. “It was substantial.”
The tribe’s endorsement during meetings with Lick was all that Florida State needed to retain the images, even though the more distant Seminole Nation of Oklahoma was not as enthusiastic.
“Had Chief Billie and his leadership gone in another direction,” Lick said, “we might have changed it.”
In return, the university has provided scholarships and cut-rate tuition for tribe members. Dr. Patricia Wickman, who attended the meetings as the tribe’s director of anthropology and genealogy, urged Billie to seek 1 percent of revenue generated by the nickname, like money from souvenir sales.
“He looked at me like I was crazy,” said Wickman, now a consultant to the tribe.
Billie explained, “We enjoy the games, so we’re not begging for anything.”
Billie occasionally attends games but prefers to watch on TV with his family. To Billie, who was restored by tribal vote to the chairman position in 2011 after being impeached eight years earlier, the Florida State community serves as an extended family to the tribe, which has a population of more than 3,000.
Evidence of the tribe’s support extends to the splashes of garnet and gold, Florida State’s colors, on the tribe’s gymnasium and elsewhere at its reservation in South Florida.
“As long as they’re winning, we’re together,” Billie likes to say, mostly as a joke.
The Seminoles’ football team is winning. Led by the redshirt freshman quarterback Jameis Winston, Florida State is No. 2 in this season’s first Bowl Championship Series rankings and is 6-0 for the first time since 1999, the last season the team won a national championship.
The tribe feels some ownership of the ceremony at Florida State home games. Osceola’s garb and makeup were altered with the tribe’s input. Although the university’s pregame custom has met with criticism that it can conjure a stereotype of Indians in battle, the Seminole hierarchy approves of it.
Regarding opposition from American Indians outside Florida, Billie summons the notion of tribal self-determination, with each Indian people setting its own course.
“We tell them to go back to their own territory,” he said. “Leave us alone. This is my place, my home.”
F.S.U. has been able to dig in its heels with backing from bodies of influence that go beyond the tribe.
In 1999, the State Senate unanimously passed a bill that would have compelled the university to use the nickname. The House took no action, and the bill expired.
This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction: October 23, 2013
An earlier version of this article misstated the year in which Florida State introduced a pregame routine featuring the mascot Chief Osceola at Doak Campbell Stadium. It is 1978, not 1988.
Page 2 of 2
Six years later, when the N.C.A.A. decreed that institutions with “hostile and abusive” mascots would be excluded from postseason competition, Florida State successfully appealed, with support from Jeb Bush, the governor at the time. He said then, “The folks that make these decisions need to get out more often.”
After Stanford switched from Indians to Cardinal in 1972, several universities shed their nicknames under pressure from tribes, the N.C.A.A. or both.
The few universities offering football that have maintained tribal likenesses have generally received the tribes’ authorization.
Utah is still the Utes, Central Michigan the Chippewas. Unlike F.S.U., however, they no longer roll out a mascot evocative of Indians. Utah’s is the red-tailed hawk, and Central Michigan has none.
The most contentious case involved North Dakota: disputes regarding application of the nickname Fighting Sioux spilled into federal court and onto ballots. By state law, the university will stay without a nickname until 2015, when it will select a substitute.
Wickman, author of the book “Warriors Without War: Seminole Leadership in the Late Twentieth Century,” considers the use of Indian representation distasteful and wishes Florida State would follow suit.
“It is a profound insult to the Native American people,” said Wickman, who contends that support for the symbols among tribe members is not universal. “It is a white arrogance that is long due to end.”
The end is not near in Tallahassee, with the current administration wholeheartedly in concert with the Seminoles.
“It’s a relationship of considerable mutual respect and honor,” Dr. Eric Barron, the university president, said in an interview.
Barron noted that the tribe participates in the planning of other activities on campus, from the color guard at graduations to the homecoming court.
In recent years, there have been no demonstrations against the nickname that have caught the attention of Florida State officials. Barron sees one or two letters each year that accuse the university of being disrespectful. A carefully crafted response, he said, casts the association with the tribe as a partnership.
Barron said he understood criticism of mixing American Indian images with sports. “Certainly, if it’s a caricature, it wouldn’t make sense to me,” he said. “There is no caricature here.”
As for the Redskins polemic, Billie hesitates to wade in, citing tribal mores that discourage him from becoming involved in affairs that do not affect the Seminoles.
“I’m not going to cross that line and tell those people how to do their business,” he said.
Indian nicknames and mascots are dwindling, but as long as he has a say, at least one will endure.
“As far as I’m concerned, that mascot will be there forever,” Billie said.
This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction: October 23, 2013
An earlier version of this article misstated the year in which Florida State introduced a pregame routine featuring the mascot Chief Osceola at Doak Campbell Stadium. It is 1978, not 1988.
No comments:
Post a Comment