The powwow commentator: A voice in the crowd

Sometimes you get a lucky break in life, fate kicks in, and all of a sudden you find yourself thrown into the deep end of the pool, over your head, swimming with the big boys. The next day you wake up and find out that you've gone from being a kid who fooled around with the mic at Sunday afternoon rodeos to being a respected powwow commentator ready to take on the circuit.

"That how I got my start back in '78," explained Raymond Whitstone.

#"I was at a Onion Lake powwow and on Friday night, the announcer got tired and asked for someone to help him. I jumped right in, three days in a row. On Sunday night, Elders Edward Fox, Wilfred Chocan and Enoch Bird stopped the powwow, called me to the centre of the arbor and initiated me with an honor song, giving me the traditional right to be an announcer."

From that day, Whitstone has never looked back, going on to become one of the most respected announcers on the circuit today. The man behind the mic.

When you hear Whitstone over the hum of the crowd, running what he calls a 'smooth powwow', you can't help but notice his rich powerful voice, fluent in both English and Cree and well laced with quick wit and good humor.

Once his career took off, he took voice lessons from a professional radio announcer and watched the seasoned pros at work to learn the tricks of the trade.

"You have to know how to get into the flow and keep the powwow alive and kicking," said Whitstone.

"That means always being one step ahead of what's going on, having your train of thought on track and keeping your wits about you."

Each powwow presents a new challenge because there is hardly ever a program in place (maybe one out of 10) and that means that an announcer has to have his own agenda, determined by how many drum groups are on deck. He also has to choose the opening drum if there is no host.

Opening night is crucial, explained Whitstone.

"It should be fast-paced, get around to all the drum groups, with some inter-tribals thrown in so everyone can dance. I've seen announcers kill a powwow on Friday night by not hitting the right beat and note with the drummers. There's nothing worse than a dead Grand Entry. I don't tell long stories or histories. People don't come to listen to stories, they come to hear powwow music and watch the dancers. I try to run it at a good pace so I keep everyone's attention from beginning to end," Whitstone explained.

There are tricks and tools of the trade that really do work, said this seasoned veteran.

"Be as brief and to the point as you can, keep introductions short, never talk on the mic when the singers are singing, don't pick on people and don't be afraid to liven things up, cause that's what powwow is about, a celebration. I like to tell it like it is!"

An announcer does a lot in a Grand Entry, setting the tone and pace for the rest of the powwow weekend.

"I like to bring in the Grand Entries in Cree and describe our traditional dances in Cree as well. That really helps to keep the Elders in tune. I don't make a big issue about flags, compliment the flag carriers, introduce royalty, hief and council and the powwwow committee. The Grand Entry is a colorful highlight of powwow, watching all the dancers come in, a program in itself."

Life in the booth, over a long weekend, definitely does have its challenges, said Whitstone. An announcer is supposed to know everything from the protocol surrounding the dropping of a feather to the breaking of a tie in competition.

A powwow announcer is also a baby-sitter because tiny tots always manage to lose their parents and find their way to the announcer's booth.

"I always share my pop and food with the lost kids; it's part of the package; as is dealing with problems and emergencies. We work closely with security and try to keep problems as private as possible, to keep the momentum of the powwow on track. If there is a problem or a fight, I try to make funny comments, help let off steam, tell those guys to stop fighting oer girls.

"The bottom line is to keep that powwow rolling cause the show must go on!"

Whitstone said, "It should be just as lively from Friday night to when all the prizes have been given out on Sunday evening."

A good PA system is amust for an announcer and good eats can never hurt a guy, said Whitstone.

"The hosts usually pay travel expenses, accommodations, but sometimes I like to camp down with the people. Compliment a booth [mobile restaurant] over the loudspeakers on their good food and the next thing you know, there's a pile of tasty neckbones sitting in front of you, compliments of the cook."

Good food can also help with certain occupational hazards such as losing your voice over a big crowd, explained Whitstone.

"The biggest powwow I was ever at was in Idaho, 1,200 dancers, very hot weather, and me the only announcer. I was really starting to lose my voice when an old man from Mexico invited me to his camp for supper with his family. They fed me super hot chili and fry bread sprinkled with Native medicine, and did my mouth ever burn. But it cleared up the voice problem and I've used that trick ever since."

Experience on the circuit has taught Whitstone to be tidy, comfortable and casual - no big fancy headbands and hold the tux please.

"I go as myself and that's the best tool I have," he said.

"Doing the job to the best of my ability is my goal and if the committee is pleased, then I'm pleased. There's lots of competition, it's hard to stay on top, announcers can give each other a real case of the nerves."

Whitstone has been accused of being an old fashioned announcer but for him it's a great compliment. He likes the old-time flavor, but stays on top by changing his program every year, keeping abreast of good jokes, snappy one-liners and the intangible knack of knowing what and when to say it.

"There are a lot of young people wanting to get into announcing these days, some who have grown up with powwow and others who start much later. Learning the opes means following the teachings of the Elders and maintaining our Native traditions, something that keeps our people together.

"Powwow is the only thing I know that brings together people of all First Nations. There is no imaginary line at the Canadian/American border, we are all Aboriginal people!" said Whitstone.

Powwow announcing is a real way of life, enjoyable and challenging. One of my biggest goals is to do a big powwow in the year 2000 if somebody will allow me. It's always a big honor to do a powwow, any powwow; it always gives the feelng that I have done something right in the past," he said.

"I am a Cree man, this is my tradition, this is what was given to me and I am very proud of it; nothing can ever replace our way of life. I still get the butterflies, still get nervous but always try to take the bull by the horns, never mind being shy, once I have that Grand Entry flying, then I'm just fine".

Looking back on more than 20 years behind the mic, Whitstone concludes that fate, good timing and a strong backing from his family have all played a part.

"My Mother, Mary Littlewolf, my wife and family, are all behind me 100 per cent. But it was from my dad, Philip Whitstone, that I really learned the ropes in this businesses. As the youngest lad from a family of 12, I was the most talkative, rambunctious go-getter, the vocal, outspoken kid in the family. My Dad, who gave us a lot of home preaching about what life was all about, told me to slow down, pay more attention to people, to the Elders when they talked. He said, "One of these days you will be at the head of the table, leading people and I only just recently realized, at the age of 54, just what he meant. Today I use all of the stories and happenings I learned from the Elders. My Dad knew. He foretold what kind of man I would become. I came from that teaching and to this day, when I speak in Cree, I try to pass that on, our ways, our traditions, our powwow.