Tuscarora medicine man Wallace “Mad Bear” Anderson (1927-1985) was a celebrity in his own right. His friendships were eclectic, and the breadth of them was quite imposing. Not all of them were with other Native American mystics. Bob Dylan, Ted Kennedy, and the Dalai Lama were some of the most prominent of these people Mad Bear spoke to on a first-name basis. He just might have had some kind of understanding with Fidel Castro, whose relationship with the U.S. may have been more complex than advertised, and who, at any rate, never did anything direct to hurt the Iroquois.

One name on that list that surprised me the first time I heard it was that of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. I was not surprised by the thought that these two spiritual activists might get along; it’s just that I would have expected to have heard about an acquaintance long before now. I think I would have remembered hearing this mentioned in Doug Boyd’s 1995 biography of Mad Bear. You would think that at least Mad Bear’s supporters would have made a bigger deal out of the acquaintance if it existed. A little tension, too, might have gone along with the relationship among the entourages of the great men, and it may have waited ten years after Reverend King’s assassination to flower.

Not long after he had gotten to know Mad Bear, Michael Bastine and a couple of other fellows were called to a special night on the Tuscarora Reservation near Lewiston, NY. These were three young men who had been training with Mad Bear “in the medicine ways,” as Michael puts it. All Mad Bear had told them ahead of time was that he needed help with a certain ceremony.

Michael and his two friends arrived around sunset at the famous fortified cabin people had started to call, “Fort Knox.” Even accustomed to oddities as they were, they couldn’t help cracking a few jokes about the coverings on the windows. Not a bit of light would show in or out through the blankets, sheets, and plastic bags Mad Bear had affixed to the window-frames. As the last of the lads entered, the Tuscarora shaman closed the door behind them.

“If any of you have any plans before tomorrow morning, you better let me know right now,” said Mad Bear, tending to gaps in one of the window-coverings. “Once we’re in for the night, we’re in.” The young fellows looked at each other but said nothing, and within minutes the door’s keyhole and corners were covered with duct tape. The burly shaman continued to check each window.

Satisfied, he commenced serving them all one of his legendary twenty-minute dinners. No one knew how he could prepare so much food so well and so fast. By nine he was breaking out the tea, or at least some potion that he served to them out of a teapot. In the cup it looked no different than the herbal brews one could get from the local health food shop. It looked and tasted a bit like green tea, but it didn't have any traces of leaf in it. It was probably made out of some fungus or mushroom, Michael figured. Mad Bear talked as his friends sipped.

“A couple of the elders have been having some trouble. Medicine trouble of some sort. It’s real bad for some of them. Usually these folks can figure out what’s going on, but this situation’s different. I’ve been asked to take a look into it. It started right after that conference some of us went to in New York City, and I can’t help thinking there might be some connection.”

The conference he referred to was the Fifth Spiritual Summit, a several-day event commemorating world religious traditions sponsored by the United Nations. Held in 1975 in New York City, its lectures and ceremonial events took place at St. John the Divine Cathedral and the United Nations building itself. It had a special focus on the indigenous, the “Third World,” and the wisdom the ancient voices could give to the world political leaders of the day. In attendance were representatives of many world traditions, including a contingent of Native American elders from all over North America. Mad Bear had appeared and spoken in behalf of the Iroquois. A handful of his confidants were with him.

It’s hard to tell how seriously any of the world’s politicians listen to calls from the spirit like this. Some of us–like me–have come to think there could not be two more opposite personality-types than that of career politician and sincere mystic. Still, it’s a good thing that the U. N. even made the gesture; and the conference with such an elevated title was outwardly a success. Behind the scenes, though, and in psychic-mystical circles, the event was known as a lightning rod for the energies of some of the hangers-on, some who may have been involved in it under the right titles but for the wrong reasons. Anyone familiar with “the New Age” will know what I mean. The Fifth Spiritual Summit has actually become modestly legendary in certain circles that make a sort of white-Native American occult fraternity, at least what’s left of the one that included Mad Bear in 1975. A number of apparently psychic, if not “magical,” events were reported around Mad Bear and his entourage at this conference.

A suspiciously short time after attending the spiritual summit, the western Native American elders started to suffer both physical and psychic difficulties, which, to those in the know, gave all the signs of the classic magical attack. Most of them were decades older than Mad Bear, then in his forties. The fact that they could neither defuse this assault nor identify the source was not only troublesome, it was curious. While physically frail, these were some of the most illustrious elders in North America. Not all of them, though, were specialists in occult attack and defense.

“I just need a little help with this ceremony,” Mad Bear continued for his guests. “Which is why I got you guys along. I need to see what happens when we all take this potion and spend the night here. It helps me figure stuff out.” Michael noticed that Mad Bear didn’t have any of the brew. He just served it and watched.

“Now we can all go to sleep, or talk, or anything we want,” said Mad Bear. “But we can’t go outside. Don’t even try to go out, not till the sun is up.

“You might hear some things tonight that will scare you. You might hear some things that will try to get you to do something. Either way, it’s only going to be an illusion. Whatever you hear, don’t try to go outside. Don’t look out one of the windows. If you hear a voice, even someone you love, even someone who’s dead, don’t even answer it. It’s only a test, but this is real serious. Don’t say one word back to it, no matter what you hear. Even if it gets really bad, just stay calm, and try to go back to sleep. Responding to it will make it get a lot worse. You don’t know how much worse.”

Michael didn’t notice any effect at all from the tea. It did make all those twentysomethings sleepy, though, and they turned in on cots and couches in Mad Bear’s living room before their normal bedtimes. They also woke, several times in the night. Always, Mad Bear was up, just watching and listening.

“That was the weirdest night I ever spent,” says Mike Bastine. “I heard pounding on the walls and windows. It sounded like there was a family picnic out there. I heard people I knew outside talking. Sometimes they were asking me things. A couple of times I heard something running across the roof. But when I’d describe it, other people didn’t always hear the exact same thing. I’d hear horses’ hooves and they’d hear pounding. I’d hear somebody singing and one of them would think it was a lost cat.

“But I don’t think that was the worst of it. It freaked the other guys a lot worse than it did me. One guy was sure he heard his brother outside in the yard, and there was no way he could have gotten there that night. The other guy heard dead people in his family calling to him. He thought his grandmother was talking to him just on the other side of a window, and she’d been dead for years. But it was real hard for them to sit still, as scared as they were. Everything was trying to get them to open up a door or window and go out or look out.

“Every time I looked over at him, Mad Bear was up, listening to everything. A couple of times somebody tried to make a move, and he was always there to remind us. I don’t think he drank any of the tea. I don’t remember seeing him do it.”

“That was the weirdest night I ever spent. Anywhere,” says Mike Bastine to this day. “The sound of those hooves or footsteps on the roof… But I stayed with Mad Bear and the medicine ways. I figured it couldn’t get any worse than that. But the other guys sorta dropped out. You just didn’t see them over at Mad Bear’s any more, and they got into some things that weren’t really right for them.

“You know, that was Mad Bear,” said Michael in retrospect. “When he was doing something really extreme like that, he always liked to have people around. Even if the people he had with him didn’t know medicine, it helped him. It was like their energy could be combined with his and it made him a lot more powerful.

“It turns out that he actually did figure out who was behind the situation that was affecting the elders who had attended that conference, and he also knew why they were at it. It surprised everybody when he finally told us the name of the person, though I don’t think he was that surprised. It turns out that the source of the bad medicine was this Black lady who had appeared at the U. N. conference herself. She had worked closely with Martin Luther King before his death. She held a government job at the time of the conference, and she might have had some familiarity with the African American medicine traditions. Or else she recruited somebody else who did know them. Nobody knew about that side to her, and I know Reverend King wouldn't have gone for that if he was alive. I think once they identified the source Mad Bear got it turned around. But for awhile it was a real serious situation."

As for why this lady might have decided to lash out at some of the Native Americans who had attended the Fifth Spiritual Summit, that conjecture may have to wait for another day. The surface explanation could be that there may have been some conflict left from the days when Reverend King and Mad Bear discussed combining the causes of the Native and the African Americans. The two leaders doubtless thought well of each other and believed in both causes, even if the causes had to stay independent. Not all the members of either's circle may have been so at peace.  

© 2011 Mason Winfield