The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1917-03-01
A SKETCH OF
INDIAN GEORGE
AGE OF OLD INDIAN is UNKNOWN


Wlludl d TtilC anu d rtfulHutT Vi udyb
when the redman, unrestrained by Gus
toms or conventions of the white, took
salmon from its streams and hunted
the deer of its rangesides of the great
Northwest, Indian George Chinadere
is familiar figure on the streets of
Hood River. Everybody knows George
and everybody-man, woman and child
-greets him, and George replies in his
gutteral, Chinook jargon.
The old patriarch is pointed out to
visitors, and no small number of sto-
ries, pure fiction, have originated from
the imaginings of local dreamers. and
in some of them George has played the
part of bold runner, an Indian hero
who traveI sed wide distances to warn
early settlements and prevent the mas
sacre of white friends by his fellow
braves, while in other yarns George,
himself, is pictured as having welded
with the blood lust vigorous scalping
knife. George never did either. 1t is
likely that the nearest real warfare he
ever was was in 1856, when the Klicki-
tats made war on the whites, drove
settlers from the north side of the
Columbia and perpet :ated the historic
massacre of the Cascades.
The age of Indian George ChiDadere
is not known. George, himself, does
not know. Some say that he has passed
the 95 mark, while others declare that
he cannot be more than 80. No correct
estimate can be made from a study of
his face. For ten years it has been the
same scanned, leathery visage, for all
the world like the upper of an old dis
carded russet boot. One eye is almost
visionless, and the lid has dropped shut.
The other, though puny with the rheum
of old age, flares with hidden spark
when George talks of the good old
times of long ago, as all old men and
women like to do, when Nature was
more generous and when his body was
supple and strong enough to arouse the
admiration of the Boston Man.
George was born, according to old
settlers, at The Dalles, but when he
was still very small child his parents
removed to the Dog River tribal en-
campment, now the environs of Hood
River. The father was Nez Perce
while his mother was Wasco maiden.
George was not more than eight or nine
years old, if his present age is so,
when the first permanent settlement
of white people made here by the fam
lily of Nathaniel Coe. Other frontier
families soon followed, and the little
handful of local Indians, the women
laundreses and housegirls and the men
field hands, became servants of the pi-
oneers. Thus, according to authentic
fact, George was never warrior bold.
But the old man today has won two
distinct achievements. He has become
known as Hood Rivers most astute
and consummate beggar and weather
prophet in disrepute. His white
friends rather than the Indian himself,
should be blamed for the latter notori-
ETY.. George is an adept at answering
leading questions, and it is likely that
keen interviewer might make him
predict a winter as balmy as sping-
time within an hour after some other
had elected the information that a
snow two squaws deep would soon be
piling up in the canyons of the Mid
Columbia. Through this process George
was made to predict last summer as
lacking the season of usual warmth,
and it was declared that he foretold
the abnormal snowfall of last winter.
Last fall George was again called on
to announce his representations.
Some hunter had Just killed an alleged
fat bear, and the aged Indian was
asked if that did not again denote deep
snow. Noses for news scented the
trail and in less than month Indians
in all id-Columbia points had been
made to predict another siege from the
forces of old King Boreas. Instead of
ice blockades, pussy willows have
| faunted welcome to robins and blue
birds, and Indian George Chinadere has
been made to bear the brunt of the en-.
tire series of faulty weather forecasts.
But Georges fame as beggar re-
mains supreme. His tactics might
form a study in diplomacy. He goes
about his work with a grace, and he
can abstract quarter of dollar from
the purses of Hood River folk with
such skill, that the donor is made to
feel glad of the privilege.
The writer will never forget his in
PRODUCTION to Indian George. He had
been at work week learning the in
tricacies of small town newsgathering
on the Hood River Glacier and was one
day engaged in transcribing his notes
into readable copy for the compositors
when the old Indian shuffied in at the
Office door.
"Stuckings," was the one word he
emitted. From his infection the word
might have been request or ques-
tion. accepted the latter version and
reasoned that he wanted to see man
named "Stuckings. / told the old
man that nobody by that name was at
work here. Then he pronounced the
one word again and it was clearly
meant that an interrogation point end
ed it. From my silence and the be-
wilderment of my expression, George
perceived that / did not understand.
He did not waste any words, but with
dirty forefnger pointed to protrud-
ed foot, and then comprehended that
he wanted stockings. Hoping to do the
| old man a service | explained that he
was in a newspaper Office, and went to
the door to direct him to dry goods
store. 1t was then that he made an
eloqrent appeal to me for money with
which to buy some stockings. II found
myself searching for a quarter, and
George soon possessed the coin. He
pronounced some benediction in Chi
nook and in words of most profound
self-pity said as he left me, "Hole
in Indian Georges Stockings two
years.
When / told of the episode to some
one / was reminded that Indian George
would be a frequent caller, and the
warning was true, for he soon reap.
peared, the next time to learn my
name, find my credentials and get wei
acquainted. He probably wished tc
put me on his permanent list of bene
factors.
Yet, with all of his begging, George
has the reputation of always having
been scrupulously honest. In pioneer
days, David Parmenter, a West Side