White Medicine Man

John Collier, the commissioner of Indian Affairs who attended the media event promoting Tony Tommie, put it bluntly in a letter: "You are not a Seminole Indian. .You have been for years a candidate for a position in the Seminole work of the Indian Office. That is your inalienable right. But, it . is foolish to make vociferous protests against an alleged incident which as a matter of common knowledge and of fact never took place."

In the end, Reverend James L. Glenn was appointed to the position. After being passed over, many men would have walked away. Hanson chose to continue his work with the Seminoles. In 1933, he reorganized the Seminole Indian Association to better serve the needs of local peoples. In one year he traveled the state speaking to thousands in an effort to drum up membership. The new head of the Seminole Agency took it as a direct attack, calling it a "divisive influence which undercut governmental efforts to rehabilitate the tribe."

The 1930s brought economic decline and the Great Depression to the state. Hanson tried to help the Seminoles raise money to buy what they could not grow or hunt. Tourist enterprises were selling mock-Seminole handicrafts: baskets and quilted clothing. He helped the Seminoles trademark their goods and find places to sell their traditional crafts.

As the Depression deepened, the Seminoles had difficulty finding enough food because white settlers hunted on Seminole lands. Flooding made things worse. A 1930 Tropical News headline lamented: "INDIANS STARVE AS HIGH WATER CUTS OFF GAME." Hanson and others formed a relief party, bringing food and medicine to the tribe.

Although the Hansons were getting by, the Depression made life difficult. Like kids everywhere, Hanson's son and daughter frequently asked for nickels and dimes, making their requests in Seminole. His son would say, "I-nee kee-naw-ee su-bon-o nock-a-nee," which, roughly translated, means, "I money want, man" in Miccosukee. His father would answer "yes" or "no" in Seminole. Even as a young boy, his son knew the exercise was more than a language lesson. "We'd go off without embarrassing him in front of other people. They didn't know he didn't have any money."

During the 1930s, Hanson learned more about the earlier effort to divest the Seminoles of their land. Evidently, powerbrokers had heard rumors swirling that oil and gas lay beneath the Big Cypress. During the Depression, there was less interest in exploratory drilling, but when the economy improved, the threat would re-emerge. In a 1930 report to Congress, Hanson warned, "When the time comes, or if oil or other minerals are found in that section of Florida . the Seminoles will be obliged to abandon their homes and move on-where?"

After a lifetime of volunteering with the Seminoles, in 1937, Hanson finally ob-tained a paid position. Under the auspices of the Civilian Conser-vation Corps, one of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's recov- ery programs, Hanson began work as a guide and interpreter. Because the government did not have a classification for the job, he was listed as a mechanic on the pay roster.

On April 4, 1945, after decades of aiding the Seminoles, W. Stanley Hanson died from a cerebral aneurysm. He was mourned by family, friends and, of course, the Seminoles of the Big Cypress. Jimmie Osceola, who now lives in Hollywood, Fla., learned of his passing through a letter sent to him at boarding school. "He was a very kind person. I [have] never seen him angry or mad. He was always joking," Osceola said.

David Blackard, director of the Ah-Tah-Thi-Ki Museum in Clewiston, put it best: "He worked tirelessly for them [the Seminoles] and was snubbed by the federal government. Others wanted to improve the Indians and make them something they weren't. Hanson was more in keeping with how we think today. He helped them especially in dealings with white people. He proved to them that a white man could be their friend. He provided them an opportunity to trust someone outside the tribe."