Taking this show on the road. Menominee style.

By William Cornelius

Every once and a while it is time to venture out of Oneida to take in some different scenery. Nothing wrong with home, but sometimes it is nice to get out of town for a little bit. About ten years ago I was feeling a little stir crazy and decided I should take a little road trip up to the Menominee Casino to see a friend of mine playing in a band.

I called a few friends to see if anyone wanted to bum around with me to Keshena that night. Usually, someone will get an itch to gamble or just want to go along for a ride. On this particular night I had no takers. No worries, it is a quick forty-five minute drive.

On the way up to Keshena I always take the back way so that I don’t have to drive through Shawano. I always avoid driving through Shawano because I haven’t had the best luck making it through town without getting stopped by the police. It could be that I have tribal license plates, or that I just have really bad luck. Either way, I prefer to take the back way. The only problem with taking the back way is that there are deer everywhere.

No story to the Menominee Casino is complete without at least a mention of “Whitetails”. For those of you who don’t know, “Whitetails” is a gentleman’s club across the street from the casino. I always laugh every time I drive by that place. I have the feeling that many people laugh and joke about “Whitetails” when they drive by. The main reason I laugh is because I actually have been to “Whitetails”. Maybe not one of my more sober moments, but certainly a learning moment. One time when I was younger and partying with one of my cousins up north, I suggested that we should go to “Whitetails”. My cousin warned me that I didn’t want to go there because it’s a little on the dirty side. I remember telling him to let me be the judge of what’s dirty. Long story short, my cousin was right.

I had my quick laugh about “Whitetails”, and then pulled in to the casino. I had a good time that night. I saw my friend’s band play some old school country, ran into a couple of Oneida’s I knew, and lost $100 playing craps. I got a late start that evening and lost track of time. It was 3:30 in the morning. I thought that I better get moving towards home. The caffeine from the coffee I had been drinking would be worn off by the time I got home.

I went out to my car to warm it up. It wasn’t quite winter, but my windows had frost on them. While my car was warming up I checked my cell phone. I’m not sure why I even checked. Ten years ago cell phone coverage was scarce. Even today I still don’t get good cell coverage up there. My phone was about to die. Not that it mattered. It was 3:30 am and I was heading home. I put the car in drive and giggled to myself as I drove past the “Whitetails” sign.

I was thinking about whether I should drive through Shawano or not. My stomach decided that I should take the risk and go through Shawano so I could stop at Taco Bell. Just as I was thinking about what I was going to demolish at Taco Bell, I hit a deer. I didn’t even see it. I slammed on my brakes and stopped in the middle of the road. Two more deer bounded by. I stopped for what seemed like five minutes. I looked around. No more deer. No traffic. I pulled off the road to see the damage.

The front of my car was smashed in pretty good. I remember thinking that there wasn’t anything I could do now, so I may as well get in the car and go home and deal with it later. So, I got back in my car and started it up. There was something wrong with my car. It wouldn’t go into gear. My car was stuck in park.

At this point a whole series of questions and scenarios are going through my head. Where am I? How far am I from Shawano? How far am I from Keshena? Who should I call? Who can I call? It’s 3:30 in morning. No one is going to answer. It’s going to take forever to get someone out here to help me. No one is going to stop for me at this hour. My cell phone was dead. I couldn’t call anyone. So, I had to make a decision, walk to Shawano or walk to Keshena on a pitch black country road at 3:30 in morning. It was miles either way. I made my decision. I’m going to walk to Keshena and get a hotel room at the casino and figure this stuff out in the morning.

Just as I was trying to get my mind right to walk back to Keshena, a lifted pickup truck coming from the south came across the center line and pulls up to my car headlight to headlight. I didn’t know what to think. Who’s stopping to help someone at this hour? Maybe they weren’t stopping to help.

As these thoughts are running through my head, the driver’s side door of the truck opens and this young, petite Menominee woman gets out and walks over to my window. She was 5’2” and maybe 100 lbs. I doubt she was twenty years old. She came up to my window and started speaking to me like only a Menominee can. If you don’t know, the Menominee accent is amazing and it was the greatest thing to hear that night. I was so happy to see her. If she stopped to help, surely she would give me a ride to the casino.

She asked me if I was alright. I asked her if she had a phone charger. I’m not sure why I asked that. I think I was still dumbfounded that this young lady was stopping for me at 3:30 in the morning in the middle of nowhere. She told me that she had a charger in the truck and I could use it. As I was walking to her truck she asked me what was wrong. I told her I hit a deer and I couldn’t get my car out of park.

Her truck was still running. I got in the passenger side and plugged in my phone. I was expecting her to get in the truck soon after me. As I look up, she is crawling underneath my car. I get out of her truck to tell her thanks for stopping and that I will deal with the car tomorrow. As I walk over to her, she said “That should take care of it”. What?? Huh?? Take care of what??

She told me my car is fixed. That I will be able to move the car in gear once I start it, but once I put the car in park it will be stuck again, so think about where you are going to park it. I didn’t say anything, but I kept staring. She told me again, “Your car is fixed, you can drive home”. I’m sure she thought there was something wrong with me. Thankfully, she was very patient with me.

Then she pointed off the side of the road and asked, “What are you going to do with the deer?” At this point I’m still trying to figure out what just happened. Did she just fix my car without any tools? I didn’t respond. She went to her truck and grabbed a knife and went over to the deer and field dressed it. I’m not sure how long I stood there dumbfounded and not being useful, but it was long enough for her to finish. Finally I came to and helped her put the deer in the back of the truck. She asked me if I wanted any. I told her she could have it for all her trouble. And, POOF, like that, she was gone.

I got in to my car. Started it up. Put the car in drive and started my drive home. Did I imagine what just happened? Was this one of those old Indian tales where they talk about made up things happening on their travels? Nope, this was an act of kindness by a young Menominee woman who took pity on me. I’m sure I’m not first person she has stopped and helped and I’m sure I wasn’t the last. That night I learned the best place in the world to hit a deer in the middle of the night is on the Menominee Reservation. I never caught her name, but that’s not my only regret. My only regret was that I didn’t ask for a hind quarter. I mean, if she’s going to take my manhood, she could at least give me some venison.

Bill Cornelius grew up in Rockford, IL and Madison, WI. Both of my parents were born and raised on the Oneida reservation. I have two brothers and one sister. As children, we spent a lot of time during school vacations visiting my parent’s families. My father is the oldest of ten children and my mother is the oldest of five children. Today, I’m thankful to be able to live in Oneida and raise my kids around their cousins, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles, grandparents and great grandparents.