Smoke Signals 3
MAY 1, 2002
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Collin Raye continued from front page
platinum status.
Born Floyd Collin Raye on August 22, 1959
in DeQueen, Arkansas. Raye grew up watch
ing his country singer mother Lois Wray per
form for large audiences, opening for such leg
ends as Elvis Presley.
In the late 70s, Collin's brother Scott and he
formed the Wray Brothers Band. They were
moderately succesfull, with such hits as "Until
we Meet Again," and "You Lay a Lot of Love on
Me." After the band broke up in the late 1980s,
Raye pursued his solo career and signed with
epic records.
In 1991, he debuted with "All I Can Be,"
which produced the No.l country hit "Love, Me."
The song spent three weeks at the top of the
country music charts.
Raye's next album, "In This Life," struck gold
again with the title track hitting the number 1
spot on the country singles charts.
As Raye's success grew, his lyrics began to
address social issues.
His song "Little Rock," from the 1994 album
"Extremes," helped to raise awareness about al
coholism. It is that song, "Little Rock," that Raye is prob
ably most well known for and when he perfomed
it at the concert, the crowd literally went wild.
You could see from the peoples' reaction that the
song meant a lot to them. Many knew the words
by heart and sang along with Raye. The crowd
showed their appreciation by giving Raye sev
eral standing ovations.
Raye's show was a spectactular event with all
the lights, cameras and action that a country
music fan could hope for.
After the show Raye, who lived for a time in
Corvallis, showed his Oregon hospitality when
he did a meet and greet session, posed for pho
tos, and signed autographs for fans. B
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He's Really Nice -Tribal Elder Verna Larsen
gets an after the show hug from country superstar Collin
Raye who was making his second tour through Or
egon. After the show, Raye took time to meet with
Tribal members to pose for pictures and sign autographs.
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Foreign Exchange -The Confed
erated Tribes of Grand Ronde hosted a
group from Siberia on Friday, April 19. The
Siberians were part of the World Affairs
Council - an organization that arranges vis
its and tours for groups that travel from all
over the world. The group included sev
eral professional people involved in health
care, children's services and youth sports
organizations in Siberia. At left, Interpreter
Victor Nikiton (standing) helps Tribal Coun
cil members Cheryle Kennedy and Bob
Haller understand the questions asked by
the guests.
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4;
Fierce, Proud Nan Is A Local Legend
Tribal Elder Hubert Mercier is one of the last remaining links to the past when all of
Grand Ronde was an Indian Reservation.
By Chris Mercier
Cliches, it is said, have no place in jour
nalism. This is true, beyond any doubt.
But a cliche can, under the right circum
stances, eerily summarize a situation perfectly,
as in the case of Grand Ronde Tribal Elder
Hubert Mercier, my great grandfather whom I
met up with this spring to discuss .. . stuff. Hubert
has, honestly and true, seen it all. Or at least
all that Grand Ronde has ever offered within
almost the last century, which is incidentally
almost the lifespan of Hubert himself.
Having a discussion with the Mercier clan's
oldest living member is seldom that, though. An
hour or two with Hubert Mercier is a lesson in
storytelling, a glimpse of the past. His memory
is shaky at times, he having compounded nearly
92 years of life's memories into one skull. But
on those occasions when a story can be recalled,
it is done with such a stunning clarity, listeners
are often left dumbfounded. No punches are
pulled and what you get is the honest and un
varnished truth, at least from his point of view.
For that particular reason, much of what he told
me, and has undoubtedly told others, will best
be left to a quiet evening at home for explana
tion. Not quite publishable material for the un
initiated. "When you said two days, I guess you must
have meant something else," he told me as I
walked into his home, a reminder of our previ
ous conversation last August, when I'd told him
I'd return shortly to resume the conversation.
Well, I thought, you can't accuse him of hav
ing a bad memory.
Hubert was born the first day of autumn, Sep
tember 22, in the year 1910. His parents were
Arthur and Agnes Mercier and he was one of
five children with three brothers and one sis
ter. Looking at Hubert, one can tell he has led a
rough life. His skin is leather, his hands cal
loused and scarred. His hearing is just about
shot, meaning that one often has to shout ques
tions and raise the voice for even a basic conver
sation. But the mind, beneath all, is razor.
"Best friends? I don't know," he said, chuck
ling. "Wasn't anyone around here then."
Well, there were people around here, he re
called, but just not many. He began to show me
pictures of his family, a granddaughter here, a
great grandson there, and some old, decrepit
photos of himself as a kid, with brother Harold
and best friend Buster Leno.
Grand Ronde was still young then. He can
remember tales from his grandfather about sol
diers showing up at the Reservation to rape the
Indian women. Women who refused were shot.
He can also remember the old Indian trails,
one of which ran from the Reservation, over the
top of Mount Hebo and all the way to Tillamook.
His father carved his initials on a rock atop
Mount Hebo, dated 1947.
Grand Ronde he remembered as virtually frontier-like,
a Reservation town crouched at the
border of timber country and wilderness. Sure
there was a war going on overseas, but people
around here had to worry about themselves.
Families were practically self-sufficient, growing
Original - Tribal
Elder Hubert Mercier,
92, remembers when
Grand Ronde was a
frontier outpost for In
dians on the edge of a
great timber wilder
ness. He is also leg
endary in the area for
standing up for himself
and what he believes in.
4 wr, l
' 1
and raising their own food, building their own
houses and every now and then coming across
some money.
Education consisted of th e Cloverleaf school of
old, with maybe four or five boys total, Hubert
included. In a rare feat of luxury, the school
had a wooden merry-go-round. But one day
some unlucky kid busted his head open on a
post, and the ride was removed permanently
thereafter.
In a sign of the times a new teacher showed
up on the scene, one Julius Herman, a white
man unprepared for the not-so-soft Reservation
lifestyle.
"I don't know where the hell he came from,"
said Hubert.
What Hubert did know however was that this
Herman fellow didn't like teaching the young
See Hubert Mercier page 4
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