I’m grateful to Lee & Low for its invaluable support in sending me to visit the CTGRC Cultural Resources Department. The staff generously gave of their time, expertise, and resources. They provided me with a Chinuk Wawa dictionary, other books to take with me for reference, and admission to their research holdings to view photos, maps, and other printed materials I would never have had easy access to otherwise. I want to thank the department manager David Harrelson and his staff, especially Bobby Mercier, Jordan Mercier, Sibyl Edwards, Julie Brown, Briece Edwards, and Cheryl Pouley, for the time they spent answering my questions and pointing me to other source materials I needed. Those first five individuals listed also read the novel and provided feedback, which helped my revision process immensely. To all of you, masi, as they say in Chinuk Wawa.
That said, any errors or misrepresentations of the CTGRC, its physical location, history, culture, or language are solely attributable to Charlene and me as the coauthors of this fictional work. For ease of use, all of Chich’s words are presented in Chinuk Wawa, not Umpqua. Since Chinuk Wawa is the language taught and used by CTGRC members in their schools, communities, and ceremonies, the book reflects this contemporary usage.
Despite all the Grand Ronde people have been through, they have survived and continue to thrive. Their cemetery, as mentioned in the story, never left the tribe’s control even after termination. It was key in their restoration, providing a lasting connection to their land as people continued to be brought home and buried there after 1954.
Today, after restoration of their tribal status, the CTGRC have developed a variety of successful business ventures that help support their educational, cultural, and infrastructure priorities for their citizens. I had the honor of visiting their Chachalu Museum and seeing items they had recently received on loan from the British Museum in London. It’s no small feat to have the necessary facility, resources, staff, and vision to pull off such a complicated logistical and diplomatic exchange of important cultural materials across continents. I am in awe of the work the Tribe is doing to keep its citizens connected to their culture and language, both within the community as well as online.
I also extend my appreciation to Christopher Hill, Facilities Services Division, Los Angeles Unified School District, for providing photographs of the historic Budlong Avenue Elementary School building featured in this story.
I have my own community to thank as well. There are no words to express the depth of my gratitude for Charlene’s family, especially her husband Roger, for clarifications, photos, and support throughout this entire process while dealing with their difficult loss. Because of this book, we will be connected forever as part of her legacy. I appreciate the assistance provided by Charlene’s cousin, Leroy Good, and his wife, Mary Ellen, directing me toward additional sources for the book. Wado to Elise McMullen-Ciotti, my editor and fellow Cherokee Nation citizen, whose support and feedback made this book stronger.
While Spanish is my second language, I wanted to make sure what dialogue I attributed to Mrs. Hernández would be realistic for a Cuban woman to say. Gracias a Margarita Engle, award-winning Cuban poet and Charlene’s mentor through We Need Diverse Books, who reviewed those passages for me and guided Charlene in strengthening her story for submission.
I would not be an author at all without the love and flexibility of my entire family. My husband Mark and my mother Carolyn fact-checked many items for me, read the manuscript aloud, and helped proofread it. They, along with my son, endure my long hours crafting stories and poems. I love and cherish them immensely.
—Traci Sorell
EDITOR’S NOTE
How I came to have Charlene’s manuscript in my hands seems like a miracle.
At the time, I was transitioning from many years working in marketing at a large publishing house into freelance editorial work. I wasn’t sure where I would land or if I still wanted to work in publishing. I had struggled as a Cherokee within the publishing industry. Why couldn’t we move beyond marketing Native American books only in November and around the Thanksgiving holiday? Why were the only Native stories ever given voice frozen within the mid-nineteenth century? The answer I usually received when asking these questions was that there was no market for Native stories. Since we represented such a small amount of the population, and since most publishing houses believed only Native Americans would read them, there wasn’t really a demand for our stories. They were just not worth the investment.
Yet the winds changed. Through a contact at the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), Adria Quinones, I learned that Stacy Whitman at Tu Books was looking for a Native American editor. She needed someone to do an expert read on a Native middle-grade novel. We connected by email, and she sent me Indian No More. The writer had submitted the novel to the New Visions Award contest. It was not developed or structured enough to win the award, but the committee saw that it had something special.
I was glad to hear that it was written by a Native writer, Charlene Willing McManis. I’d been asked to do sensitivity reading before, and more times than not, the stories were not written by Native writers, and I’d have to inform the editors that these were not honest or accurate books. So I was excited to dig in to a hopefully authentic piece. I printed it out, stapled it together, and began reading. I didn’t stop until I was done . . . except to take a few minutes here and there to cry.
Up to that point in my publishing career, no one had ever talked about the Indian termination policies or the additional and continual migrations of Native people throughout the country for survival. Indian No More reminded me of the late Cherokee Nation Chief Wilma Mankiller and her family’s relocation to San Francisco in 1956 — and her return
