Ted became a healer himself. But tragedy came to him later in life, as a father—one he would have given his life to undo. It was an accident that caused the death of a child, an event he thought he had a hand in. He always wondered if he might not have used the Creator’s special dispensation when he was a boy.
Mad Bear’s Medicine Hat
An old treaty with the British Empire granted the Iroquois hassle-free passage between the United States and Canada forever. Political firebrands are occasionally blocked at the border with the idea of keeping them out of trouble, but sometimesit separates them from councils and family gatherings. Leave it to Mad Bear to make a point: When the authorities tried to block him at one of the Niagara River bridges, he crashed his Jeep through a wooden gate and was on his way. He offered to make up for any damage caused by his exercise of his political rights, but the authorities were not amused. Mad Bear was told that he would be arrested if he tried to attend an early 1970s rally in Toronto.
Mad Bear announced that he would attend, not to disturb the peace, but to carry out his duties to his nation. The problem was following through—the guards at the border were on the lookout, and Mad Bear’s photo was in every booth. Native American caravans were sure to get the once-over.
Mad Bear’s standoff had made news, and reporters were stalking him. Under his black, wide-brimmed magic hat, he crossed the border in a backseat between two friends. The customs agent peered into the car holding Mad Bear and waved them on. “Hey! That’s Mad Bear in that car up there!” yelled a Buffalo reporter hanging out the window of the car behind them.
The agent looked again, studying faces more closely, then waved them all on a second time. As they pulled away from the Peace Bridge, Mad Bear grinned faintly. He was later to say, “Every time that guard looked at me, it felt like sand was sprinkling all down over my face. What he saw was someone else.”
White writer Doug Boyd (1935–2006) had heard a lot about the “doctored” hat. Once Mad Bear even let him try it on. It was a bit too big for him, and he felt something different under it, if not cascading sand. Mad Bear looked at him curiously as if he himself was surprised by its effect. Boyd turned for the mirror, but Mad Bear snatched the hat back before he could see himself under it. Next time he visited, it was not on its usual hook.
MAD BEAR’S METHOD OF READING
Mad Bear’s curative powers were famous even off the reservation. People came to him with all sorts of problems, including ones they suspected were magical. Mad Bear did his healing only on weekends. Most Saturday and Sunday mornings, a line of cars was parked outside his Tuscarora Reservation home, filled with people waiting for him to start. He had two strictures: He wouldn’t start before sunrise, and he never worked past sunset.
The healing itself was as likely to be physical or emotional as occult. Though Mad Bear’s remedies were traditional and Native American, he reached his diagnoses through a mix of occult customs. There were three or four distinct stages to his reading.
Mad Bear always started by letting his guest talk a while, maybe asking a few questions. He tossed a bit of loose tobacco into a glass of water and peered into it. (His favorite cups were mass-produced clear ones that the local Tops supermarket used to package frozen shrimp, sauce included. Mad Bear scarfed down the shrimp and kept the cups, just the right shape, size, and depth for observing the movements of the tobacco.)
There was something different about the tobacco Mad Bear used. People who knew him believed that no tobacco he touched was ordinary, that every time he held any he was talking to it, reminding it of its sacred function, investing it with a sense of mission.
Often he had things figured out in the middle of a client’s statement and broke off for a cure. Sometimes he didn’t, and it was another toss of the leaves.
If the ailment was psychic, a ceremony burning a certain type of wood or herb often did the trick. If the complaint was physical, Mad Bear often prescribed a treatment involving local plants and substances. The Tuscarora hailed from the Carolinas, so there was a southeastern element to some of Mad Bear’s recipes. He often wrapped things up in the same visit. Many cures came in a remarkably short period of time.
Though he proved his fabled powers occasionally, seemingly on a whim, Mad Bear resisted enacting them when asked or challenged, and he never did performances. (“If you want to see a show, get a ticket for the circus,” he used to say to those who pressed him. “What we’re about is the message.”) He never let a third party sit in on one of his readings, either. Still, people were constantly passing through his home and his life, and there are witnesses to some remarkable things.
Mad Bear sent some people to other healers, usually because he could see that they wouldn’t follow his directions. “I could prescribe some treatment,” he might say. “But I see that you really like wine. I don’t think you’d stop what you do long enough to get better.” Or, “You eat a lot of greasy food. That won’t mix with my medicine, and it could even be worse for you. Maybe another healer can give you something.”
It was important to Mad Bear to succeed. If people were running around saying that he was a bust, it would
