FREEDOM IN SEASON

Recent Performances:

Epilogue from 2021

PROCESS

This, by far, has been one of the most intense two weeks of my life.

Over a year ago, I began developing a Play, based on my great great great grandfather Samuel Vickers, Union Army Civil War veteran, entitled – Freedom in Season. The piece centers around the untold story of Nipmuc men in the Civil War and the removal of their children - many of which were taken to Boarding schools or “farmed out” while they died on the battlefield.

Actually, this process goes back much further. The Ohketeau Cultural Center and Double Edge Theatre have grown to what I consider far beyond collaboration and partnership. But indeed, true friendship and family.

After sharing over the dinner table many times over the last three years; the story of my family to the director of DE Stacy Klein, she suggested I do a Play on my grandfather’s story. I chuckled and said, “I write books; I do not write plays.”

However, I left that night intrigued by her concept. It reverberated within me, and I pondered the thought of trying it. I knew the content would make many people very uncomfortable. Especially non-Natives. And that appealed to me. Making people uncomfortable around the issue of race, genocide, and the removal of Native children is a crucial step to shift consciousness. If I did this, I wanted it to hit hard in myriad ways. It had to.

I decided to give it a try. And like any good writer, before I knew it, I had over 150 pages of material - and going. I could not think like a Playwright. So, I learned to shift my perspective from paper to physical form. It brought me back to my teaching as a Traditional Storyteller: things that need to be seen, not said. Words are only the frame of the picture. The rest is visceral, visual, and spiritual.

The path of research took me on an emotional and heartbreaking journey of war, death, and the usurping of land, children; and an ongoing struggle to make sense in a world where your traditions and life are under constant threat.

I owe a tremendous THANK YOU- to many of my relatives who have been compiling this history for generations. Special thanks to the Elders and their Stories that allowed me to breathe life back into the dusty and tattered pages of letters, archives, and documents that are all but lost to antiquity.

MUSIC

Stacy would call on me once again. “Larry, this is your story; you should have your own music.” She said. I agreed. I went home that night. I meditated. I took out my drum and asked the spirits for a song. I did not think. I used my heart and just started singing whatever came out. The song that came to me is in our Nipmuc language: ‘Unnugquomooonk’ (I dreamed a dream). I composed it that night. The next day I came back and met with Tomantha Sylvester, an extremely talented Anishinaabe theatre student from Michigan. I shared the song with her and asked her to see what she could do with it.

The song would be the overarching theme and musical score for the opening and closing of all five parts of the Play. It was humbling, to say the least. The following day I was called back to the music room. Tomantha played the song back to me. I was blown away. Her voice is amazing! Far better than mine, I was in awe. Things were coming together. The score was epic, inspiring, brilliant. Her voice showed me the true power of that song.

There is another scene where I do a Nipmuc Paddle song with our traditional rattle. John asked to accompany me with a flute. So, we needed a Nipmuc flute. We asked none other than Nipmuc, Hawk Henries to make one. He did. John practiced night and day, and I am still humbled and so thankful for the hard work everyone put in. And, of course, Dylan giving me my haunting cello. I had to have my cello. Thank you!

CO-PRODUCING

I recall the first time I watched a Play at Double Edge Theatre, ‘We The People.’ I was ecstatic at the power, beauty, and music with the overarching theme of social justice. The outside performance was artistic genius. And now here I was, co-producing my play right alongside them. It has been beautifully grueling. I have a whole new appreciation for what they do. The intensity, dedication, and commitment to the craft bring about a spectacular experience for those lucky enough to bear witness.

I jumped in with both feet. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew how I wanted it to ‘Feel.’ Stacy was clear; I needed to lead this. I was able to bring my creativity to this process in all the ways I wanted to, dreamed of doing. However, this work stretched me to my emotional limits. I was freeing the Pain, freeing the Voices’ and, for once, letting the world know what happened here. This was raw, shocking, jarring material. We were doing some heavy lifting, and needless to say, it was not all succotash and biscuits. This was new territory for all of us. We made mistakes and learned from them. None of this was going to be easy. In the end, we created something magnificently painful, beautiful, full of love, life, hope, and storytelling that will hopefully bring about a fundamental shift in understanding the plight of my ancestors.

THE PLAY

Each night, I shared by a Fire. The flames were nurturing to my soul. They spoke through the crackle and hiss of tragedy and tradition, laughter and pain. The flames screamed of anger, but also of ease and Joy and being home. The Play is aptly named: Freedom in Season. And we are all left with that question: When will Freedom Be in Season?

As I channeled the spirit and energy of my Vickers ancestors and the space of 1863, it has touched me in ways I was not prepared for. I will be processing these emotions for some time to come. Excerpts of the letters are actual writings from my relatives during the war in the field in 1863. All of the play’s content is true life — my family’s life and what happened to them. I don’t have the words to describe this feeling of being the medium for them to speak. Each night at the closing, it took me further down the path of understanding. And yet, more questions. I could clearly see that the Play stirred deep inside those who saw it. Many were equally unprepared to be confronted with such content, such history, such call to action.

Each night I was not alone, as the fire held me firmly but in an ethereal way. The tall grass, wildflowers, and strawberries growing nearby added layers of healing to such a task. We took notice of the shapes of clouds. Some nights they looked like feathers, other times like ancient Longhouses; how the Sun hit the horizon in the blazing milky pink, purple haze. The Moon and all its mystical phases ebbed and flowed into all my being, like the breath of the sea, exhaling into a new discovery. The wind, the bugs, the bubbling water of the brook nearby. Crackling embers of the fire and the scent of cedar smoke swirling up to the heavens sparked the magic of the moment. The yelping coyotes off in the distance while crickets did a dance in the night- All echoed to the cadence of what we shared. And the reminder that all of this is as real as it gets.

Just before I went on, I prayed, I meditated. I let my mind run away to the ocean, where I was lying prone on my surfboard, rocking gently in the water, my hair dripping in my face, the taste of salt, and the sound of seagulls screeching above as I waited patiently for the perfect wave. My mind left the water and visited the graves. The graves of all the children. Those Indian children they thought would never rise again. And I thought about my relatives. Three generations in a row, all removed from their home. Some never return. Larry Spotted Crow Mann disappeared. Patience Henry Vickers took over. I am happy he did.

Samuel Vickers
Christopher Vickers
Charles Vickers
Henry Vickers
Chandler Vickers
Rufus Vickers
James Vickers
Steven Lewis
Daniel Gigger
Emor Lewis
Benjamin Brown,
William Brown
Hezekiah Dorous

James Nedson
Benjamin Brown,
William Brown
Hezekiah Dorous
James Nedson
William Cady
Joseph E. Bowman,
Joseph H. P. White
James M. Pegan
Theophilus D. Freeman,
Alexander Johnson
Edward Hazard
Alexander Hemingway
Rufus Hazzard

James E Beldon
James Hazzard
Lorenzo T Hazzard
Hiram Ransom
Charles W Brown
Albert E Esau
William Hector
Fanny Thomas
Anstis Daily
Lewis Daily
Marcus Lewis
Stephen M Lewis
John A Glasgow