Charactertized By A Common Thread

AIM, Native American News, WK 1973

By Rezinate

The Unquiet Grave – pages 349 and 350

“Camp first spoke publicly about Robinson in 1999, during a

week of meetings and rallies in Washington,D.C., in support

of Leonard Peltier’s petition for clemency. One of Robinson’s

daughters, Tamara Kamara, attended the events and at one point

made a tearful plea for information about her father. When she

was done, Camp walked up to her and said “I broke bread with your

father.” He confirmed that Robinson had been inside Wounded Knee – a fact most AIMers were still denying – but said he had seen Robinson walk out of the village.

If Robinson was dead, he told her, it must have the goons or the feds who got him. Tamara called her mother in Detroit and told her about the conversation, and Cheryl took the next plane top Washington.

She approached Camp the next day with a photograph of Ray.


“I said, Carter, look at this picture and see if you remember my

husband”. And I positioned myself so I could see the look on his

face when I showed him that eight by ten. So I uncovered it, and he

looked at it, and he looked at it, and he looked at it. I swear to

Gos, it was excruciating how long he looked. I didn’t say a word,

didn’t interrupt -just let him commune. He finally turns to me with

a pained look on his face, and he says, ” No, I don’t remember him.”

And he had just told my daughter at this very emotional thing yesterday that he had broke bread with Ray and it was “a hole in my heart” and  all that. Ain’t that a kick?”


Once again another example of Camp not being able to keep his story straight from one day to the next. And when called on to do so resorts to the old fallback of it was the goons or the feds.

Robinson walked out of WK2? Sure he did, guess that must another black man Crow Dog was talking about in the blog Gravekeeper buried in one of those unmarked graves he needed to talk to Dennis Banks about.


Another Review

AIM, Native American News, WK 1973

By Rezinate


‘Where White Men Fear to Tread’ By Malcolm Brenner Staff writer –Where White Men Fear to Tread: The Autobiography of Russell Means by Russell Means  with Marvin J. Wolf. $26.95, St. Martins Press, N.Y.GALLUP-


 russdennis( A picture I  like to refer to as “Dumb and Dumber”. N~)


I wish I was a Red Man So I’d know where I came from Play all day on my drum But I’m an Evil White Man…

Hindu Rodeo, Evil White Man

Those lyrics synchronistically came over my radio as I was about halfway through Russell Means’  self-serving, provocatively-title autobiography, and they pretty well sum up his message: I’d  be a nice guy if it wasn’t for all of you white m—f—‘s out their making my life miserable.

In one sense, I find this book difficult to criticize. Many Native Americans regard Means as a hero for standing up to white racism. He gets no argument from me that America’s Indians are the most oppressed racial group in the country, that they have been forced off their homelands and are the victims of vicious genocide.

I am also less than objective, having met Means personally in the course of my job. Admittedly it was under less than ideal circumstances, but I found him hostile, defensive, and rude. This  is a man, I remember thinking, who has made a career out of intimidating white people-many of whom I hasten to add, probably deserved it.

His autobiography explains why and tells how.

Means opens with a brief recounting of Lakota history and the violence wreaked upon his people.

His parents moved off the Pine Ride reservation in 1942, and he was reared in the north San  Francisco Bay area. Means attributes both is father’s alcoholism, and his mother’s physical  abusiveness to their education in Bureau of Indian Affairs boarding schools.

This upbringing left Means with an apparently inexhaustible reservoir of pain and rage. He chronicles his progression form a young punk hoodlum to an alcoholic adult, losing jobs, dealing dope, running petty scams, getting busted up in fights, abusing women and fathering children only to abandon them.

He seems perversely proud of having been the meanest, most irresponsible s.o.b. in the valley-after all, whites were to blame for his problems.

In the midst of this debauchery Means reveals an incongruous Puritanical streak. He denounces powwows as the corruption of Plains Indians’ traditions. He calls his marriage to a Hopi woman an act of  mongrelization. We later find out she left him not because of traditional differences, as he implies, but because he neglected her devoting all his time to the nascent American Indian Movement.

Means became one of the founding fathers of AIM, and in so doing rose from an obscure drunken lout to a national spokesman for Native American rights. In that sense, this book is bound to elicit comparison to The Autobiography of Malcom X.

However, Malcom X aspired to a higher ethical and moral standard than the racists he opposed. He may have threatened race war against an oppressive system, but he never stooped to the style of thuggism that was AIM’s ethical norm. Petty theft, drunken parties, drug dealing, intimidation and violence were all okay as long as they were ostensibly directed against “the enemy,” white people.

Over and over again, Means makes blanket condemnations of all ‘White People’ that he would assuredly bust my chops for if I made them about Indians. Indian ways are in every respect superior to white ways, and Indians lived in a problem-free paradise before whites arrived and messed things up. His hypocrisy, in this respect, is astounding and undermines the righteousness of his cause.

Readers should understand that this book is Russell Means’ version of reality, and it does not necessarily bear any relationship to the truth. Means may have given up alcohol, but he still carries the alcoholic attitude that twists the facts to meet his emotional needs. He tells you only what he wants you to know, or what he thinks you’re stupid enough to believe.

This, he can state straight-faced that brutal Navajo Police fired on unarmed, peaceful protesters during the 1989 Turmoil in Window Rock; that the Aztecs were really practicing open-heart surgery, not human sacrifice; that 42 percent of all Native American women were sterilized by the Indian Health Service, and that AIM only acted in ‘self-defense.’

Here’s an example of Mean’s self-defense. On trial for a murder in South Dakota in 1975, he prematurely decided the jury is going to convict him. “I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in prison. With two AIMsters, I made a plan. When the verdict was announced, they would shoot the jury and I would kill the prosecutors and the judge. Then we would take white women for hostages, tape guns to their throats and make a run for it.”

Fortunately, these evil, bigoted white jurists acquitted Means, and his colleagues, relieving him of the responsibility for self-defense.

Means doesn’t even mention his participation in AIM’s worst blunder, the occupation of the Shiprock Fairchild semiconductor plant in 1974, presumably because this debacle cost 1,000 decent, hardworking Navajos their jobs.

While I can’t say for sure, I suspect the rest of this book is similarly self-censored, making it untrustworthy as history.

The book’s factual accuracy-names, places, dates-is due in large measure to the inexhaustible efforts of Means’ collaborator Marvin J. Wolf, who spent 2 ½ years and took out a second mortgage on his house to complete it.

Ultimately, this book is a chronicle of Means’ bottomless rage. It may have been justified by the circumstances of his life in particular or American Indians’ lives in general, but about halfway through I started gagging on it.

Whether one reads Where White Men Fear to Tread as a revolutionary’s triumph over incredible odds or an alcoholic’s  unending battle with himself will depend upon one’s opinion of Russell Means. As Wolf himself says, “Russell is a lot easier to admire than he is to like.”

And so a young punk running petty scams became a mature thug running larger scams, nothing honorable in any phase of Russell’s misbegotten life.

A key phrase in this review is the following:

“Readers should understand that this book is Russell Means’ version of reality, and it does not necessarily bear any relationship to the truth.”

Above all other things Russell Means was the stereotypical narcissist, a sociopath of the first order – neither being the stuff “heroes” are made of. Neither being likeable or admirable.

How to Spot a Narcissist

Sociopath – Sociopathic Personality Disorder

The Deep Crap Of Russell Means Book

AIM, Native American News, WK 1973

By Rezinate


Russell Means book Where Whitemen Fear To Tread has been promoted as a seminal work, an insider look at the struggled of indigenous people among other things-this mostly by a fawning over the top liberal press  apparently in the throes of “white guilt”.


Below is another review that points out the many discrepancies and the bloated self image Means had-the all for me mentality.

Found it interesting and worth blogging.

I would be interested in hearing what “BlackByrd” has to say about the murder of Perry Ray Robinson Jr. at the hands of AIM. Or Dennis Banks role in it and his order to Cris Westerman to dispose of Ray’s body?

Reviewer: Richard W. Byrd “BlackByrd”, Bronx, New York, United States

“I am an African-American male product of the struggles for humanity in the 60’s.

I started Russell Mean’s book with great anticipation and finished it with unbridled disgust. Where do I begin? Means lies when he says AIM started the community patrols before anyone, including the Guardian Angels and the Nation of Islam.

Fact:The patrols were started by the Black Panther party when Means was still dealing drugs, and being an all the way live drunk. He talks of the confrontation at the BIA building and uses it to propagate his anti-black racist venom. Through the book most African-Americans are depicted as reactionaries and/or fools. Means goes on to lie, how Indians would marry slaves and prefer to go into slavery than suffer the injustices of being Indian.

Fact:Means trivializes the holocaust my people suffered. In Dennis Bank’s book he cites the support the African-American community provided during the liberation of the BIA  building. Means gets his cookies off vilifying and insulting and denigrating people who, because of our shared oppression in this country, should be his natural allies, While excusing blatant racists like McGovern and Janklow, and allowing himself to turn tricks for Larry Flynt. See Russell whore for 30 pieces and all the butt he can kiss. When one reads this book you get the impression there would be no AIM without Russell Means.

Every  good idea is his, the people are lost sheep without him, talk about mendacious megalomania.
Even white supremacists groups are given a greater degree of empathy then the African community.

Live a black person in America and see how great life is. This short sighted fool cannot recognize people who have a common oppressor because of his reactionary racist tendencies.

He condemns the black cops who did the oppressors biding during the BIA liberation, asking how they could allow themselves to be used to harm another disenfranchised people. Yet he cannot see the similarities with those Indians mercenaries who served in Vietnam and participated in the murder of a people who were fighting for their own destiny. This myopic egomaniac sees  nothing wrong in murdering Vietnamese for U.S. imperialism. Not one Indian was killed by those D.C. cops.

To reiterate Means neglects to mention how during the BIA liberation, the African American community provided food and spiritual support, and also at Yellow Thunder Camp. It is of course a black man lacking character, which leads one to conclude Means is the worst type of anti-black racist, the racist who comes from the wretched of the earth. In conclusion despite Mean’s facade at heart, he is still a macintosh, a red and green apple (since this parasite will sell his soul for white money, despite his declarations to the contrary), but white to the core.

Editor’s Note: Russell Means entitled his book, “Where White Men Fear to Tread” and the reason is the crap is so deep in the book, no one could “tread” through it.”