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Show SALT FLAT NEWS. APRIL 1971 Tapping SIllLILEim to leaph -- , , . vc gp- . goes native by Lyle E. Colbath When people in all walks of life compete for the privilege of publicly expressing their gratitude for a job well done, it is apparent that retirement from ones chosen profession has come to a successful conclusion. Fay Gillette (Ret.), sheriff of Tooele County, is nationally the occasion, my son Michael his and my two boxer dogs. Mike many qualirecognized for had never seen a real, ties. As a political officeholder, he served all people with equal Indian reservation beHe was were exhilarated to so we fore, sincerity. consistently Demoand office voted back into be on the open road by crats as well as by Republicans to meet the three other cars, for a quarter-centurloaded with people. During three four year terms he was the. Cold, heavy, gusty winds officerocked our car. Patches of ice only elected Republican holder in Tooele County. and snow on the road added to been has Gillette my discomfort. I turned on the Fay car radio; the weather forecaster honored by high school groups, sheriff and police organizations, dealt the final blow: Heavy snows to hit the Nevada-Uta- h civic and fraternal bodies, and by municipal and political border about four p.m. today. Then we heard a sharp noise, groups. But one ceremony that vivfd like a rock hitting the fender. will undoubtedly be a Side winds rocked the car. Even memory for him is the tribute the the isolate dogs woke up and gave me a remote, paid by Goshute Indian tribe. dirty look. asFeels like a flat tire," I told How and when all the sembled people got word of the Mike. We stopped and Mike ventured out to confirm my suspiintended tribute cermony is still cion. The icy blast of wind was a mystery. The Tooele group heard by telephone about one piercing after the comfort of the warm car, but we changed the week before the ceremony. Marion Carter tire faster thany any pit crew at Sheriff of Deputy Wendover told them that two Indianapolis. We couldnt waste in would be held a second, else wed have frozen Gillettes honor, one by the to death. At last in Wendover, we filled Ibapah Indian reservation and one by the city of Wendover. up with gas and had the tire reMere mention of the word paired. Mike walked the dogs; then we went into the Western Ibapah touched off a mad scramble: Whos invited? Whos 'Cafe for breakfast. I talked to the cafe owner about the second going? Whos driving? How do we get there? Who knows the award ceremony, which would roads? Someone said, The take place on our return from sheriff and his deputies have Ibapah. Hie Tooele contingent been there many times in the arrived intact, ate, then prepared for the sixty-fiv- e hard miles to past twenty five years. We were -' also informed that the roads become. The dark threatening sky didnt help my disposition a bit. yond Wendover were bad. I drove my own car, taking Unfamiliar with the road, I camera equipment to document suggested that I travel between honest-to-goodne- ss (1-8- 0) y. ' rs -- - -- Sheriff Gillette the two sheriffs cars. Still jittery about the weather, I searched the sky, then took off. Thirty miles out of Wendover, on U.S. 50 in Nevada, we turned off the smooth highway. Suddenly it became evident what we could iex-pe- ct everywhere we saw remblown-ou- t tires. There was swirling dust in my car. The dust came from the lead car, and my car in turn generated a cloud nants of of dust for the car behind. In order to eliminate some dust, I fell behind the lead car about a mile. We thought the cars would fall apart. Everyone was coated with dust. Finally, we arrived at the new schoolhouse in Ibapah. We got out, slapped the dust off our clothing just like the olden stagecoach days. We didnt see anyone, and wondered if the ceremony had been called off. Ten minutes later a doud of dust pulled, up. (It was really a . u&wMb . .truck.) A man got out of the truck and told us we had come to the wrong place. We got back into the cars and drove another six miles the old schoolhouse, where everyone was waiting. The schoolroom was about twenty feet square and plenty crowded with about seventy-fiv- e people. Hie only vacant seats were waiting for the guest of honor and the speakers. It was hard to find a vantage point from which to get photographs. We wanted varied angle shots, and this presented a challenge. We stood in front of people, climbed over them, aggravated them, and made a spectacle of ourselves. We no doubt distracted the speakers, too. Mike manipulated the floodlights at the rear of the room as I hollered orders to him. These tactics were frowned upon by the speakers. Handicapped as we were, we finally got the job done, with numerous apologies. Henry Pete, secretary of the Indian Council, emceed the program. Head 'bowed, hands in Levi pockets, shy in appearance, Pete apologized for his lack of speaking experience. But he spoke from his heart, and everyone called it a good job. Then I noticed a plaque on the wall with an Indian platitude inscribed upon it, I read it and thought then that it should apply to all humans. It said, I will not criticize my neighbor until I have walked a mile in his moccasins. Maude Moon, who is thought to be featured the program with an Indian prayer and two songs in the native tongue. Hie songs were translated by one of the women. One song was about a falcon from birth to flight, which paralleled the growing-u- p of an Indian boy. Hie other was about elk and moose, preparing the meat for consumption and the hide of t Vest and Bolo Tie certify Sheriff Gillette into Goshute Nation. News Photos by Lyle Colbath The warriors membership card. ninety-fiv- e, clothing. Robert Steele, Indian Council chairman, read a history of the reservation, emphasizing some of the accomplishments of Sheriff Gillette in aiding the Indian peoples. Steele said, Gillette is honest and friendly and we all give him a lot of respect. We en I joyed working with him. He always got the right answers for us, whether they involved legal counsel or just daily problems we could solve for ourselves. Then Steele told how Sheriff Gillette and his wife reared one of the goshute Indian girls, Doreen Nookie. She is now mar-tie-d and the mother of three sons. Mrs. Nookie was unable to attend, but over the telephone she told us that Mr. Gillette understood the Indians problems better than the Indian people themselves. So, while Fay Gillette has lost his status as Chief, he has won a new honor Honorary Brave in the Goshute Indian tribe. He scroll was given a hand-beade- d d on buckskin and also a buckskin jacket and a western rope tie with an Indian medallion. Among those attending the ceremony were Sheriff Archie Robinson of White Pine County, Tooele Nevada, newly-electe- d Cliff Carson and Sheriff County his family, Inter-tribcounselor George Sully, Utah Highway Patrol members, and VISTA rephand-beade- al resentatives. My son Mike, the two boxers, - and I then started back to Wendover, as the people were filing into the kitchen for lunch. They sky was closing in, and I was worried about snow, I visualized four feet of snow on a lonely dirt road in the mountains, and nobody finding us until the spring thaw.; I was also concerned about the boxers, which are snow dogs, not homing dogs. And they didn't have a keg of brandy around their necks either, like St.- Bernards, for medicinal purposes or possibly snakebites. We retraced the dusty, rocky trail until we reached U.S. 50 in Nevada. Exhausted, we stopped long enough to breathe a sigh of re. - lief. I had another assignment in Tooele at 7 :30 p.m. to film 15 boxing matches for the Police Athletic League. Foregoing the scheduled Wendover ceremonies, and leaving my regrets with Corporal Tony Kerbovich at the Utah Highway Patrol weigh station, I hightailed it for home. |