This Has Never Hap
Old and New Bonds
botprowl.com
Video Games, XBOX,
Culture Shock and
Wow, that's a
Plan Voodoo
Don't Cry Over Spi
If It Smells Like
Shocking! Simply S

Back From The Outb
I’ve never seen a
My Word Is My Bond
Let me help you cr
Neanderthal Man
Create a Little Ch
The best chia pet
botprowl.com
A Closer Look
just one final com
A Very Simple Plan." He was born Robert James Markson on February 5, 1927, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and grew up in Milwaukee. He became a newspaper delivery boy at age 11. During World War II, he served in the US Air Force in occupied Japan and then as a civilian pilot for the U.S. Air Force. Markson was married, with three children, when he first met Alain Robichaud, a Quebec native who was working as a cab driver in New York City. Robichaud's mother was Algonquin Ojibwa (Awiigamig). He studied economics at Syracuse University and then worked for an insurance brokerage in New York, but he and his wife felt a pull to return to Quebec after the birth of their daughter Maryna in 1958. Robichaud and his wife made up a five-member delegation to Quebec to meet with the Algonquins, who would be the focus of their social advocacy efforts. On their return to the United States, Robichaud became executive director of the National Indian Development Council. In 1965, the Montreal Gazette reported that Robichaud was asked to accompany the federal government's "good neighbor" policy team on a visit to Canada to inform people about the proposed legislation that would, among other things, permit Indians to own land in Manitoba, British Columbia, and Quebec. There was no public consultation in those provinces, and Robichaud soon faced strong opposition from the region's mining and forestry interests. The Indian People's Association, run by Arthur Manuel, a Mi'kmaq from New Brunswick, was one of the few political groups opposed to the legislation. In March 1965, Robichaud was called to testify before the federal House of Commons committee considering Bill C-90, the White Paper, which sought to reserve lands within Indian territories for future sale and development. Manuel was concerned that the government was ignoring the interests of aboriginals who resided in these areas, and he asked Robichaud if he would lead a delegation to a meeting of Native people to express their opinion. Robichaud and an aide left Montreal that day for the small mining town of Flin Flon, Manitoba, then a thriving center for asbestos mining. At first he was apprehensive about meeting with mining and forestry representatives. "I'm the wrong guy," Robichaud told Manuel. "I work for a New York insurance broker. I'm not a native person." His apprehension disappeared upon arrival at Flin Flon. He was met by a noisy group of about one hundred. One of the first people to welcome him was a small, soft-spoken but fiery man in his late thirties named William Wuttunee, who spoke Ojibwe and English. Wuttunee, who had fought for the British in the Second World War, told Robichaud that the Flin Flon Indians had learned that they were not being consulted by the government, which meant that they had no say in the matter. "If you see somebody walking on the street, you don't ask him for identification, you know," Wuttunee said. Robichaud's fears were soon assuaged as he was treated to an exhausting day of meetings with people from town, city council members, and the Indian agents, but he was surprised when the delegation met Wuttunee and other chiefs. "They gave a pretty good, very balanced and very reasonable presentation of what their position was, and I knew then that we had a common cause," he later explained. The visit resulted in the creation of a small local committee made up of members of the Flin Flon Indian population. The group was responsible for organizing meetings in Flin Flon and other areas to educate people about the government's legislation. At the time, there was no organization for First Nations people in the province of Manitoba; as a result, the government of Peter Lougheed attempted to undermine the committee's efforts. The government even called Robichaud to testify about the government's policies before a legislative committee, a request that he declined. He asked his hosts to send a letter supporting the committee's work to the press. "As an old guy on the inside, I knew that was my responsibility," he said. After the government refused to change course, it became clear that people had "had enough of the arrogance of the so-called white man," Robichaud recalled. On their way back to Quebec, Robichaud and his companion stopped off in Winnipeg, where they again had a contentious meeting with James Sinclair, director of the Northern Administration Branch, which oversaw the implementation of federal policies in Manitoba. The two aboriginal men had a spirited exchange on the road in front of the Winnipeg airport terminal. "I felt really intimidated by him at first," Robichaud later recalled. "His demeanor was one of contempt, and I felt the reason he was so cold was because he was being paid. I had the distinct feeling I wasn't going to get anything worthwhile out of this guy." Sinclair accused Robichaud of exaggerating the government's intentions and said he didn't need a letter from him. Robichaud refused to give up, and, over Sinclair's objections, called a press conference. Sinclair was forced to release a letter confirming that the government had been in touch with Robichaud but added that "no decision has been taken and that no action has been taken by anyone to deprive Indians of their land." Later that night, Wuttunee invited Robichaud to an informal meeting with Indians at the Indian and Métis Friendship Centre in Winnipeg. They all sat around a table in the center's room, which was filled with Indian children. Robichaud listened as the various chiefs recounted the government's promises in the years before they were elected and expressed their frustration with the new administration's policies. Robichaud's involvement with the issue increased his profile in the province. He continued to receive invitations to speak and began working with several aboriginal organizations in the province. When the New Democratic Party swept to power in October 1969, his efforts earned him an appointment to the federal cabinet as Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. "The way things worked out, I ended up in a leadership race with Paul Martin and ended up winning the election in 1971 and became Minister of Indian Affairs," he told a reporter during the campaign. "I was appointed as minister in 1969. It was a new broom that swept that office, as was my policy of minister. If you look back at history, it was never occupied by one Indian person before. We gave it to one person." Robichaud went on to serve in the New Democratic governments under Prime Ministers Tommy Douglas and, later, Pierre Trudeau, until he announced his resignation on October 4, 1980. He had been diagnosed with brain cancer six months before and, although he was able to finish some of his ministerial duties before leaving office, Robichaud said his disease had worsened to the point that he felt he was leaving "with a black heart." In the spring of 1981, he also resigned his seat in the House of Commons. A week before he died on February 2, 1983, he had a meeting with Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. Robichaud recalled how Trudeau told him: "Robby, look at it this way. . . . The day is going to come and somebody is going to put that on the front page. And that is where you should be quoted. 'There was a time in this country's history where the future was dim for Indians.'" Robichaud died from cancer at his home in Ottawa in 1983. He had returned to the area where he was raised, near Ottawa, as his health declined. The day before he died, Robichaud called his family to say, "I've had a good run in this life, and I'm very happy." JOHN ST. CYR FOWLER Born January 20, 1951, in Timmins, Ontario, Fowler was educated in the nearby city of Sault Ste. Marie. He began fighting for aboriginal rights as an activist while in high school. In 1961, at the age of 19, he created a bilingual and aboriginal alternative school newspaper called the Rebel Press, which covered issues related to racism, discrimination, and racism, including abuses by the police. Fowler founded the Idle No More movement as a way to bring attention to the importance of aboriginal peoples' contributions to Canadian society and the need for a nation-to-nation relationship between First Nations and Canadian government. His group's website states that it "defends and promotes the fundamental human rights of the aboriginal peoples of Turtle Island (North America), and through education and public awareness, the rights of future generations." Fowler was a co-founder of Aboriginal Voices, which he describes as an Aboriginal people's radio station. "It is designed to promote First Nations community issues, culture, history, language and arts," he says. "The mission is to provide a radio station that focuses on the social, educational, economic and cultural betterment of Aboriginal people." The station, which broadcasts in Aboriginal languages, has the "strong support of community Elders and youth," he explains, and its mandate is to "give people the opportunity to develop employment skills and become leaders in their communities. The station plays culturally relevant music." Fowler was a frequent guest on CBC Radio programs, including Native News, until they banned his name from their broadcasting. "It's their right," he said at the time.