University Daily Kansan / Wednesday. July 5, 1989
7
Festival of Freedom
A photo perspective of the sights and sounds from Lawrence's Independence Days celebration by Daniel Starling.
(Above) Burgess Rennels, Lawrence resident, and his 2-year-old daughter, Illa Bateson, wander through the large crowd at Burcham Park, looking for a comfortable place to sit. (Left) Priscilla Howe, East Hampton, Conn., won the storytelling contest with her "Tale of the Crooked Finger." (Below) The motif for the celebration is this rock quilt created by Stan Herd, Kansas artist.
To 'buckskinners,' black powder and buffalo are real life
Mike Adams, known as "Bluehawk", explains the philosophy of mountain man.
oy Donna Eades
oy Donna Eades Kansan staff writer
In the 9 to 5 world they are known as Joe Oertel, Mike Adams, and Clark Cason.
But on their black powder weekend get-togethers, their alter egos surface and for a few hours they become "Snowgoose," "Bluehawk" and "Silvertooth."
Oertel, Adams and Cason were part of the history living demonstration recreating the life of mountain traders during the fur trade era of the 1820s through the late 19th century for Independence Days. Like the historical group they recreate, members come from all over Kansas and Missouri.
THE Missouri Party of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, as the group is known, is just one branch of a nationwide group of dedicated history enthusiasts that, by some estimates, numbers in the tens of thousands. Some of them are members of the hand-made leather clothing they wear, or black powder people for the type of guns they collect, they are nippersick for
"We do this as a way to study a time in our history that is virtually ignored and to bring it to the people," Adams said.
Adams said.
"It's not just a hobby," Oertel said.
"It's a part of reality."
Mike Adams 'Bluehawk
The buffalo was like the Wal-Mart of the prairie. You could get almost everything you needed from one animal."
historical accuracy and detail
cortel makes most of his own clothes, as the original mountain men would have done. His handmade buckskin pants are sewn with sinew. As a concession to the heat, he sometimes substitutes a heavy cotton broadcloth for his usual leather shirt. His buckskin moascales are patterned after those worn by Indians native to this area.
A string of badger claws, collected from a road kill animal, and strands of beads made from brass and colored glass hang around his neck. A mastodon tooth he found in the Kansas River and a leather Indian medicine pouch complete his ensemble.
one point computer
Most of the members of the group,
identified by colorful descriptive
monikers, choose their own nick-
names or are named because of
identifying physical features.
Oertel, who normally wears cream colored buckskin pants and shirt, is known as "Snowgoose."
"One guy gave me the name 'Snow
turkey' and after that everyone was always hollering 'Hey, turkey, come over here.' "Oertel said. "It just wasn't the right word, so I changed it."
Although it is possible to recreate many aspects of the life of the mountain men, some concessions to modern times must be made. Adams, known as "bluehawk," said,
"We do travel in vehicles to the gatherers, and food coolers are all right as long as they're kept covered," he said.
"I wear my buckskin 365 days a year, though," he added.
For some of the skunkskiern, the hobby generates their only source of income. Adams and his wife "Morningstar," earn their living by selling and trading animal skins, leather pouches, knives and other black powder accessories to interested observers and to other skunkskiern.
Goods made from buffalo skins are popular with buckskinners and non-buckskinners alike.
"The buffalo was like the Wal-Mart of the prairie." Adams said. "You could get almost everything you needed from one animal."
Adams and his wife live on a homestead near New Albany and spend many months each year participating in living history demonstrations and traveling to private gatherings around the country.
Some of the backsummers dream of taking a break from civilization and turning a hobby into a full-time lifestyle.
"Civilization is depressing to me." Oertel said, "One of these days, I'll go to the mountains and live there, travel south in the cold months, go with the climate. It's a dream right now, but maybe it will come true."
For others, though, modern civilization continues to hold a certain attraction.
"There have been times I've been so fed up with civilization that I was ready to go." said Donna Cason, one of several wives who travel to gatherings with their husbands. "But I've always told my husband that I wanted to live close enough to drive in a Pizza Hut if I need to."