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An outcast in her native land

H&N photos by Andrew Mariman
Marnie Marrow, 54, has been through a great deal, from growing up as a Native American with non-native foster parents to raising three children of her own.

 

April 2, 2007

Klamath Falls Herald and News

by Ty Beaver

Marnie Morrow, 54, went to play with a friend who lived a few houses down from hers when she was in grade school. Until the moment she answered the front door, the friend's mother didn't know that Morrow was part Klamath-Yahooskin Indian.

She promptly told Morrow that she couldn't be friends with her daughter any longer and closed the door.

Such moments punctuated Morrow's life growing up in the
Klamath Basin . A child of a Native and non-Native parent, she said it was difficult finding her identity and where she belonged. But there were still moments of happiness and she has seen the communities within the Basin fill with more understanding and compassion over the years.

“You just have to get through the racial issues. You never truly forget these things but you can work with them,” she said.

Morrow was born in Pendleton, along with her twin sister, Ruth, in 1954. Their father, Vincent Castriotta, was Italian while their mother, Ruby Dorris Charles, was Klamath-Yahooskin. In 1954 the federal government still recognized the Klamath Tribes prior to Termination in the 1960s.

Her parents weren't married and also had trouble with alcohol. The family was living in Chiloquin when Morrow, Ruth, older sister Theda and older brother Nick were removed from their biological parents. Morrow and Ruth were 5 months old when they were placed with a foster family, Joe and Katherine Wirth O'Brien in
Klamath Falls , along with Nick.

Two different worlds

As Morrow grew and explored what was around her, she said she lived in two different worlds. One was the world she shared with her foster family.

The family was well-known in the community. Joe designed the jovial blue-and-white cow sign that adorned Crater Lake Creamery on
Main Street and now welcomes visitors to the Creamery Brew pub. Morrow said she remembered seeing the designs for it as a child and was pleased to see it preserved.

Joe and Katherine were fair and kind parents, treating their foster children as they did their own son, Morrow said. Their foster grandparents, Tom and Delia Rogers, also embraced them, researching their Native heritage. They would go on expeditions for arrowheads and other artifacts and go home to research them.

“They did everything they could to educate themselves,” Morrow said.

Dave also accepted and cared for Morrow and her sister and brother. He was 5- or 6-years-old, when they moved in and while there was sometimes the tension possible between a biological child and a foster child, he still played with them and was protective of them.

“Dave and I, as kids, could fight like cats and dogs but we loved it,” she said.

It was a family she came to love and know as her own and see as a special recipe of diversity and acceptance, a combination of Morrow's Native and Italian ancestry and the O'Briens' Czech and Irish background.

School was terrible

But there was another world Morrow and her siblings experienced outside the security of their foster home, a world they first encountered when they entered school.

In school, Morrow said she and her sister and brother were the victims of abuse from students as well as teachers, ranging from the subtle to the flagrant.

Morrow is dyslexic but such a condition wasn't known back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, leading her teachers to label her as retarded. She remembered one time when her foster father got into a physical altercation with the principal of her grade school after the man said Natives were a waste of money and teachers' time because they were too dumb.

Students would make fun of her and her twin sister whenever they wore braids, even when other girls also did. One of the more devastating moments came when Morrow was 11 years old, soon after “Daddy Joe” died.

During physical education class, she was playing a sport with her classmates and her team won. One of the girls on the opposing team came over to her and told her that her foster father died because she was an Indian and couldn't stand her.

Morrow said despite the mistreatment and abuse she and her siblings suffered, their foster parents rarely knew about it. She did tell her foster mother about a great deal of it when she was 20 and it devastated her, causing her to feel she hadn't protected Morrow and her siblings.

“We felt we just had to take it and not say anything,” she said.

Friendly faces

School, and life, wasn't all about confrontation and prejudice, Morrow said. One teacher, Ellen Reich, knew her from church and was protective of Morrow and her siblings, especially after their foster father died.

As a very young girl, Morrow and her twin sister would accompany Katherine into town to pay bills and take care of other business. Such trips often meant a sighting of a man they called Rattlesnake Pete or Pistol Pete.

The man was one of the characters of the town and was always seen wearing buckskin. Morrow said he adored seeing her and her sister though they were in awe and fear of him and hid behind their foster mother.

“He was always sorry when he made us cry when he shot his pistols off,” she said.

As a means to console them, the man would give the two girls bags of candy.

Morrow also spent time with her biological mother when she was about age four or five. She would come and pick up Morrow and her siblings and take them to the carnival that used to be on
South Sixth Street , near the intersection with Shasta Way . She died two years prior to Joe's death.

High school had happy moments as well. She competed in track as a relay runner and also loved to swim at the Ella Redkey Pool and play baseball. Playing with Nick and Dave could prove problematic since they knew exactly where she'd send the ball, she said.

Teachers were also more compassionate and understanding in her later education, especially the choir teacher at
Klamath Union High School . Morrow also went hunting during her teenage years on the Tribes' reservation.

“Back then, you didn't even have to get to the reservation itself before you saw large herds of deer,” she said.

Lasting effects

Despite the loving home Morrow grew up in, and a better learning environment in her secondary education, the abuse she received from her classmates and teachers in her early school years left its mark.

She had already begun to use alcohol in high school. That combined with her lack of self-confidence caused her to drop out before she could graduate.

The 1970s were difficult. Morrow continued to have problems with alcohol. She wandered in and out of the Basin and her foster mother and an aunt and uncle helped to raise her daughters as they came along.

An undercurrent of resentment and opportunism toward tribal members also still existed in the Basin. In 1980, Morrow returned to the Basin after living in
California , Idaho and Mexico for a year. Tribal members were receiving the final compensation payments from the federal government.

“Things had gotten better, but there were still problems,” she said.

Morrow said that in the days prior to tribal members going to pick up their checks, Basin businesses and individuals saw the opportunity to earn their own money. Car dealers filled their lots with the newest vehicles and real estate was marked up. In one instance, someone parked a boat on a trailer with a “for sale” sign in front of the bank where tribal members were to pick up their checks.

Working as a waitress, Morrow said she also heard disparaging comments, including once when one of her regulars asked why she was taking a job away from someone who doesn't have the money she had from her federal compensation.

Fighting stereotypes

The late '70s and early '80's brought better times for Morrow as well as her people. She stopped drinking after a woman on the tribal council, a tribal elder, told the congregated tribe that if they wanted to erase the image of tribal members being alcoholics, they had to do it themselves. Morrow said the majority of those drinking did so along with her.

She met her husband, Dean Morrow, in 1982. He was a farm hand on a Macdoel potato operation when they met on a night out with friends. Seven months later, they married.

Dean is non-tribal and the couple learned years later that their friends cast bets to see how long their relationship would last. Morrow said she and her husband never told their friends they knew and the couple laughs about it now.

Raising her three daughters was important to Morrow, especially because she wanted to make sure they didn't have the same experiences she did.

That protectiveness was tested when Morrow said she learned a teacher was mistreating one of her daughters. When she went to the school to confront the teacher, the teacher closed the door in her face.

Morrow pulled her daughter from her classes to be home schooled before sending her to another school. The principal and teachers at the new school were excellent, with the principal visiting Morrow's daughters daily to make sure she was all right, she said.



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Source:  http://www.heraldandnews.com/articles/2007/04/02/

news/local_news/local1.txt