Trust. Integrity. Reputation.
1999 Windspeaker July Headlines
Balancing act!
Earl Charters demonstrates his talent with the hoops at the inaugural Canadian National Competition Powwow held in Edmonton from May 28 to 30.
Photo Credit:
Brad Crowfoot
Corbiere decision making waves
Informant comes in from the cold
Oldest living Cree Elder delivers land claim
AFN striving to occupy lands and trust sector
Comedian pokes holes in white attitude
Wavell is a shooting star
Book Review: Baby Blues - by Drew Hayden Taylor
A very sad case, indeed - Editorial
Cry of a broken arrow - Guest Column
The above is only a partial list of all the stories featured in the July, 1999 issue of Windspeaker.
If you are not receiving your own copy of Windspeaker, then you have missed out on a great deal of news, information and humour.
Click here for Windspeaker subscription information.
Corbiere decision making waves
By Paul Barnsley
Windspeaker Staff Writer
TORONTOLawyers who worked on the Corbiere case concerning the voting rights of off-reserve members that was decided by the Supreme Court of Canada on May 20 say the media's misunderstanding of the decision may have triggered an incident at the Abegweit Reserve in Prince Edward Island. On May 25, three women who were off-reserve members tried to vote in a band election and wound up being charged with obstruction.
Toronto lawyer Bill Henderson, who represented the Batchewana band in the Corbiere case, e-mailed Windspeaker to say that our reporting of the decision was "slightly misleading and may be a source of problems for those who rely on it."
"Your report suggests that off-reserve members are now entitled to the same voting rights as on-reserve members," he wrote. "That is not what the court said. In fact, the court said the opposite: "The principles of substantive equality do not require that non-residents have identical voting rights to residents, but rather a system that gives non-residents meaningful and effective participation in the voting regime of the band."
The decision struck down a phrase in Section 77 of the Indian Act that limited the voting rights of off-reserve residents, saying the phrase violated the equality provisions of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The court gave the government 18 months to come up with a way that will allow all members of First Nations communities to participate meaningfully in the governance of their home communities.
Lawyers close to the case say off-reserve members may find they'll be allowed to vote on major issues such as land claim settlements, but local issues will still be voted on only by reserve residents. The discussions will take place between the federal government and Native leaders over the next 18 months.
"The Supreme Court said there's a whole range of possibilities, a whole range of interests. The parties need to get together and work on a good faith solution. The court said, in effect, 'Go be creative; go be constitutional,'" said one lawyer, who asked not to be named.
Syrette thinks the court's direction was for each First Nation to come up with its own method of providing reasonable participation in band affairs for off-reserve members. He also said that now the court has forced the issue by imposing the 18-month deadline, the Indian Affairs department should provide funding so that off-reserve members can participate in the process of creating and implementing a revised system of voting that includes them.
"We're holding the federal government accountable for this," he said. "We're working on a proposal now."
Terrence Lavallee, the former chief of the Cowessess First Nation in Saskatchewan, said his band paid close to $1 million to ensure that off-reserve members participated in the ratification of the band's treaty land entitlement agreement, a process that will have some similarities with what Syrette thinks the court needs to satisfy the Constitution's equality requirements.
"It won't be cheap," Syrette said.
The president of the Native Women's Association of Canada, Marilyn Buffalo, thinks that Batchewana is on the right track.
"Good for Chief Syrette. He should hold them accountable," she said. "The challenge, in the light of this decision, will be for all First Nation leaders to declare jurisdiction over all of their members and I believe the onus is on the department to support the chiefs once they declare jurisdiction."
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Informant comes in from the coldBy Paul Barnsley
Windspeaker Staff Writer
HAMILTON, Ont.A member of the Six Nations of the Grand River First Nation claims he has resigned as an undercover police and government informant because the information he gathered and passed on was not used for the right purposes.
Jim Moses, 53, said he provided the Ontario Provincial Police with information, four months in advance, that members of the Kettle and Stoney Point community who were occupying Camp Ipperwash planned to expand their occupation to Ipperwash Provincial Park.
The group moved into the park on Labour Day, 1995. Shortly after that move, Native land claim protester Dudley George was shot dead during a confrontation with a heavily armed police tactical squad. An OPP officer was charged and convicted with criminal negligence causing death in connection with the shooting.
The George family has filed a $7 million wrongful death lawsuit, claiming that Premier Mike Harris and others were responsible for decisions that resulted in the death. Harris has denied this is true. The family has said the lawsuit will be dropped if Harris calls a public inquiry into the events leading up to the death. The recently re-elected Ontario premier has refused to do so, electing instead to have his lawyers attempt to derail the lawsuit in court.
Moses made three trips to Camp Ipperwash to gather information. He said he saw a bandoleer, which held 12-gauge shotgun shells, but no guns. He also said that on one occasion he spent the night at the camp and the next morning witnessed a visit by a police officer who arrived to deliver a message to the protesters at the camp. When the protesters walked to the camp entrance to see what the officer wanted, one of them hid a baseball bat nearby in case of trouble.
"That made me think, 'Maybe they had no guns,'" he said.
He said he passed that information on to the OPP and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service or CSIS - Canada's version of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Moses' interest in the more shadowy elements of life in Indian Country started early. Born July 26, 1945 on Six Nations and raised in nearby Vineland, Ont., in his younger days Moses had dreams of writing novels. In his 20s, he turned to journalism as a way of paying the bills and found his Native heritage allowed him to get close to stories that mainstream, non-Native journalists couldn't crack.
All reporters who have covered the Native beat for any length of time in eastern Canada have come across Moses. He was a bit of a puzzle for investigative journalists, regularly calling newsrooms to provide reporters with additional information about stories that had already been published or to inquire about information that didn't make it into print. In this way, he has created a sizable network of contacts throughout the mainstream and Iroquois communities located along the St. Lawrence River in both Canada and the United States.
During a series of interviews with this newspaper in late May, Moses named several OPP intelligence officers and one CSIS agent as his "handlers" - the person in intelligence gathering organizations who supervises and collects information from informants. Six Nations Police Chief Glenn Lickers confirmed that Gary Lee, one of the people named by Moses, is an OPP intelligence officer who was assigned to the Six Nations area during the time Moses claims he was working for the OPP.
"I'm on the list, I'm number 409. OPP-409," Moses said. "The way they told me, they said, 'I'm making you a numbered confidential informant,' as if it was some kind of bestowal."
When contacted by phone on June 14, Lee told Windspeaker: "I can't comment at the moment. As you know, these are sensitive issues."
He promised to call the next morning, after consulting with his superiors about what comment could be made. The next day, he called to say he couldn't comment.
CSIS has a standing policy of not commenting on the actions of its intelligence operatives.
While travelling in Europe in the late 1960s, Moses kept up on political developments at home through newspapers and letters from his family. In 1969, his mother sent him a copy of then-Indian Affairs minister Jean Chretien's White Paper on Indian Affairs. One section jumped off the page for the would-be writer: part of the government's plan was to eliminate Indian reserves and totally assimilate Native people into the mainstream.
"I thought, 'Wow, if this political intent is acted upon, if this is pursued, it's going to cause a war in Canada between Indians and everybody else because they are not going to give up the last postage stamp of this great land that they used to own.' That's like lighting the fuse. So I thought, 'I gotta get home,'" he said.
He arrived in Montreal during the FLQ crisis and learned a few lessons about political terrorism by following the events of the day.
"What most people don't realize to this day was that the FLQ was only six people. I realized then how simple it would be for a very small group to appear to be a vast insurrection," he said.
It was at this time that cigarette smuggling was becoming a highly profitable industry on the reserves around Montreal and Cornwall. As he talked to traditional chiefs and grassroots people in these communities, Moses came to hold the opinion that the Native people involved in the cigarette trade were acting in ways that paralleled other terrorist groups.
He believed the Mohawk Warrior Society, a group Moses maintains was made up of people who profited from the cigarette trade and the smuggling of other commodities, was hiding behind the legitimate fight to assert the collective rights of Native people, in order to protect their profitable, but illegal, business endeavors. He also believed the mainstream press had been hoodwinked by the Warriors and that Canadian authorities were doing nothing to correct the false impression that the press was creating because "it was easier to say 'no' to a Warrior than to a reasonable, responsible Native leadership."
As an Iroquois person, Moses was outraged by both the overt and the more subtle forms of intimidation employed by the Warriors. He made up his mind to combat them and, at the same time, make a living as a freelance investigative reporter.
"My problem was I didn't have the time to build up a reputation. I wanted to be able to walk into an editor's office with a story and have them trust me and accept what I was telling them. So I thought, that's how to do it. I'll start my own investigation," he said. "I don't have to do a thing. I'll just dig and dig and dig and even if I don't find anything they'll be really scared because I might find something. So I wrote a letter to Ian Scott, who was the (Ontario) attorney general at the time and told him I'm starting my own investigation. I got letters back from (then Ontario premier David) Peterson, Scott and the commissioner of the OPP saying it's the responsibility of the police to investigate criminal activity."
Moses said he saw that the police kept their distance from reserve communities because of a lack of understanding of the people and their culture. He felt this left the door open for the Warrior minority to intimidate the law-abiding majority.
"Why should an Elder be sitting down in his house so afraid that he doesn't want to talk to me?" he asked. "He's worked for his people his whole life. Why should he be that afraid when police are getting paid large wages to protect him? He's not getting that protection. That's what really pissed me off, is that the reserves weren't getting the protection they deserved. Normal, innocent people were being intimidated and frightened. I had to keep up my pressure on the police. The only pressure I had available was embarrassment - the possible embarrassment in the minds of police who, because of lack of resources, lack of information, difficulty in investigation, confusion, weren't doing the job on Indian reserves because they tended to think of it as 'not my problem. If I don't look, it'll go away; they'll settle it.'"
He found he had to educate newspaper editors and fight against the momentum the Warriors had created.
"The press, the media in general, not just the press, tended to treat Indians as a block. So any Indian who said anything could be accepted as a Native spokesman," he said. "It's like, pick up a newspaper and say 'Who has the press elected as a leader now?'"
He found friends in some newsrooms and eventually worked on investigations with the CTV news show W5. He also contributed to a number of investigative stories written by newspaper reporters and eventually did a lot of work for CBC's The Dark Side of Native Sovereignty.
A source close to the Iroquois Confederacy chiefs on the United States side of the border said Moses has been a very useful source of information for the chiefs in their fight against the Warrior movement. Many sources who preferred not to be named said they had serious concerns about any Native person spying on his own people for the benefit of the police or the government, but each noted that Moses shared his information with the Native leadership.
Respected Six Nations Elder, Huron Miller, told Windspeaker that Moses kept him up to date on his investigations and frequently sought his advice.
Six Nations police chief Glenn Lickers said he was not aware that Moses was working for outside police services, but he said it didn't surprise him. Lickers, the immediate past-president of the First Nations Chiefs of Police Association, backs up Moses' assertion that the Warriors profited from rivalries between police organizations.
"Over the years, we've become aware that there were inaccurate intelligence reports involving our community," the police chief said. "None of the information was ever shared with us. Last fall, for example, an RCMP intelligence report stated there were huge stashes of arms on First Nations. If there's illegal weapons in our community, shouldn't they be sharing that information with us? But we never heard a thing."
If Moses' claims are true, the next question that comes to mind is: Are there other Native informants out there?
"I don't believe I was the first," he said when asked that question. "They moved in several different directions at the same time. Before me they had nothing, but once they got their mandate they developed several sources at the same time."
Moses said he was first approached in 1988 by OPP intelligence, adding that CSIS recruited him in late 1993. He claims his information was used but he was rarely compensated.
I received no pay from '88 until after Oka," he said. "After that, I'd get $50 every second, third month. But it never, ever came close to paying the cost."
He worries that he will be branded as a traitor by some Native people. He worries even more that his days as a freelance reporter will be over when the news of his intelligence connections circulates, but he said the information that has been reported about the death of Dudley George makes him think the OPP is covering up a big mistake.
"I came forward mainly because of the screw-up," he said. "A lot of contentious issues have come up about the death of Dudley George that don't add up. I thought I could walk away from this but knowledge is responsibility and, I should know what went on in the camp, because I was there."
Asked if he was uncomfortable with the thought that many Native people will call him a traitor, Moses said, "I don't know if I'm uncomfortable, but I know it's a reality."
When asked if he had any regrets, if he had been used against his own people, Moses said: "I'm not worried about that because I knew I was right."
Oldest living Cree Elder delivers land claimBy Marie Burke
Windspeaker Staff Writer
EDMONTONRapheal Cree, a 106-year-old Elder from northern Alberta, presented to the regional director of Indian Affairs a copy of the statement of claim that outlines about $1.6 billion in damages suffered by the Paul Cree Band.
The Elder is the son of Paul Cree, who was the chief of the band after whom it is named. In the statement of claim, delivered on June 1 in Edmonton, the Paul Cree are asking for at least $1 billion for the unlawful removal of natural resources from their land and $500 million in damages for the breach of the Treaty 8 adhesion. Treaty 8 commemorated its centennial on June 21 in the Lesser Slave Lake area. In 1899, Rapheal Cree stood with his family and his people, while his uncle, Chief Seapotakinum, touched the pen on behalf of his band to signify the signing of an adhesion to Treaty 8.
Cree came to Edmonton with a handful of supporters and spoke through his son. Cree said he still remembers when the treaty commissioner came to what is now known as the Fort McMurray area to join the Aboriginal people there to the provisions of the original treaty signed earlier at Lesser Slave Lake. Treaty 8 is one of the few Indian treaties that included mineral rights.
Cree is supported by John Malcolm, who is the interim-chief of Wood Buffalo First Nation. The Wood Buffalo First Nation is a group of Métis and non-status Aboriginal people from the northern areas of Alberta.
"To our knowledge he is the oldest living Elder in Canada and he needs the support of Aboriginal people in this action," said Malcolm. Cree's supporters maintain he is the last known living survivor that witnessed the Treaty 8 adhesion signing.
The claims of the Paul Cree Band began heating up about five years ago when a group claiming to be direct descendants walked from Fort McMurray to Edmonton's Indian Affairs office in an attempt to bring attention to their claim about reserve land.
"We approached Indian Affairs about the reserve and they finally responded to us with a letter after five years, which just came in a couple of weeks ago, saying there was no claim. It is not a surprise to us what their answer was going to be. They are not just going to hand over anything without a battle," said Malcolm.
In the past two years, Malcolm worked with Cree's son, Alymer Cree, to gather proof and record Cree's knowledge about the original reserve to establish the land claim.
"What we've done is, rather than accepting their answer that the Paul Cree Band is not a First Nation, is to file this claim in court and let the judge decide," said Malcolm.
Although the reserve land surveyed by Indian Affairs is called the Clearwater Indian reserve, the band is better known as Paul Cree's Band of Indians who are included under Treaty 8 adhesion.
The survey of the Paul Cree reserve by Indian Affairs was presented to the Privy Council of Canada in 1921. The original tract of land set apart total more than 2,000 acres of land or at least two square miles. The reserve sits at the junction of two rivers in northern Alberta.
"In the 1970s the families that lived on the reserve were basically threatened to be burned out of their homes and their kids would be taken away by the government to get them to move off their land," said Malcolm.
The families that lived on the reserve, with little or no services, eventually moved to the Fort McMurray First Nation, except for Cree's family, said Malcolm. The Crees insist they have never given up their membership to the Paul Cree First Nation. A declaration in the claim points to the purported surrender of 1948 as null and void.
Communications director, Glen Luff did, however, mention Indian Affairs past involvement with the Paul Cree descendants.
"We will look at the legality of the claim. Five years ago the federal government determined after correspondence with these people that we had no legal obligation. The Paul Cree band is known as a division of the band of Fort McMurray," said Luff.
The Indian Affairs spokesperson pointed to policies and an investigation several years ago that gave the federal government no reason to believe that the Paul Cree band exists, he said.
"This is a bit of a surprise, but the regional director generously is making time to briefly meet with them. We were just handed a piece of paper and our lawyers will have to look at it," said Luff about the statement of claim.
The regional director of Indian Affairs met with the Cree family and Malcolm after he received the statement of claim.
"We told him that we are prepared to go the Supreme Court of Canada on this because we know we have a solid claim, but he said it wouldn't go that far," said Malcolm.
Malcolm said he's aware the court case might take some time. He believes Indian Affairs has a lot of control over the legal process that will take place to settle this claim.
AFN striving to occupy lands and trust sector
By Marie Burke
Windspeaker Staff Writer
OTTAWAOn a scale of one to five how would you rate the level of knowledge in your community of Indian Affairs' policies in the following areas: elections, environment, wills and estates, human resources, membership, natural resources, moneys, additions to reserve, lands management and law-making?
That is one of the questions being posed to First Nation people by the Assembly of First Nations as they gather the information that will be needed to change the policies of Indian Affairs.
For more than a year now, the AFN and Indian Affairs have worked together on an initiative concerning lands and trusts services. At least 80 per cent of the Indian Act, which governs the lives of First Nation people who live on reserve, is related to lands and trusts.
In 1987, Indian Affairs reviewed lands and trusts policy after the auditor general released a report that critically examined the way Indian Affairs managed First Nation lands and resources.
National Chief Phil Fontaine said if First Nation people decide they do not like the proposed process or outcomes, then the AFN will not proceed further. The AFN is "cautiously optimistic" that the process will be First Nations-driven. The gathering of input from First Nation people across Canada is just beginning, and analysts at the AFN maintain regional interests of First Nation people will be reflected in the proposed changes to the policies of the Indian Act.
Ontario Regional Chief Tom Bressette, co-chair of the initiative, said the team of researchers and analysts for the AFN are working with certain recent key legal events in mind.
"In the Corbiere-Batchewana court decision First Nation rights are being tested," said Bressette.
Last month, the Supreme Court decided off-reserve residents have some rights to vote in some band elections. The court gave Indian Affairs and First Nation leaders 18 months to revise the Indian Act to bring it up to speed with the court's decision.
On June 11, the First Nations Land Management Act, otherwise known as Bill C-49, passed in both houses of Parliment and royal assent will follow within the next month.
In a press release, Fontaine approved of the bill, saying it will give First Nations the right to set up property codes on reserve and distribute leases and licenses for reserve land without the prior approval of Indian Affairs.
The legislation will come into effect immediately for the 14 bands that have signed agreements with Indian Affairs. There are more than 600 other bands in Canada who may follow in future agreements on land management.
Fontaine insists that the joint initiative that will change policies affecting First Nation people across Canada will be directed by First Nations, not Indian Affairs. Ultimately, the initiative will result in a framework agreement endorsed by the AFN and Indian Affairs, but Fontaine points out, the initiative is not about making amendments to the Indian Act at this point in time.
At a June 11 First Nations media information session on the AFN/INAC joint initiative in Ottawa, the national chief and officials from Indian Affairs explained the reason why the message of the lands and trust services initiative needed to be heard.
"The fact is that the AFN is working on this initiative now by taking the interests and concerns of First Nations people and making the changes that will benefit them in the long run," said Fontaine.
The AFN received the go-ahead on the joint initiative from the chiefs at their confederacy meeting in March 1998.
Indian Affairs' director general of registration, revenues and band governance, Ray Hatfield, explained how the information is gathered on a regional level.
"The AFN and INAC are not directly involved in the regional process; each region uses different strategies and the consultation is based on community involvement," said Hatfield.
The goal of regional information is to get the issues and concerns that are specific to each region, said Hatfield. The involvement of each region is coordinated by AFN regional vice-chiefs who will make decisions on what the approach will be in gathering the information.
Indian Affairs officials said at least $5.2 million is earmarked for the workplan outlining regional involvement, but an overall funding figure or breakdown was not available at the information session in Ottawa.
The reports are not back yet from most regions, said Hatfield. The information-gathering consultations and research are expected to last at least another 18 months. A progress report on the joint initiative will be presented at the AFN's annual assembly in July in Vancouver.
Officials from AFN and Indian Affairs could not comment on how the recommendations to change Indian Affairs policies will be ratified.
How referenda will be conducted will be decided at the annual general assembly, said Hatfield.
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Comedian pokes holes in white attitudeBy Kenneth Williams
Windspeaker Contributor
TORONTO
As a child, Charlie Hill secretly wished to be a stand-up comedian. He would sneak out of his bed and watch the original host of the Tonight Show, Jack Paar, make people laugh. He was also inspired by Dick Gregory, Jackie Gleason and Red Skelton, as well as Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy as his career blossomed. But it took focus and hard work. It required him to stick to his convictions and not take roles that were stereotypes, and it has made him one of the most well-known Native comedians, in Canada or the United States.
"What I do, I don't really call 'Indian humor.' It's more of a satire," he said, after a performance in Toronto on June 10. "Real Indian humor is something in your community or your home, and the funniest people are maybe your uncle, or a cab driver, or someone on the rez. It's something only people with Indian experience get. It's something that's personal to us. . . It's something beautiful."
Even when Hill is far away from his Los Angeles home, he never feels out of place as long as Native people are around. Born in Oneida, Wisc., an indeterminate number of years ago, to an Oneida father and a Cree mother from Alberta, Hill is able to call both sides of the border his home. But he quickly pointed out the border is an illusion.
"We have the BIA, here it's DIA. The prime minister is the president. It's the same. Just different names. And their policies are the same towards Indians. Never to our advantage," he said. Whether in Canada or the United States, for about 20 years, Hill has been making audiences laugh with his perceptions of the Native experience.
What is funny to Hill is that he's one of the first standup comics to come out of a culture that is inundated with laughter, especially from powwow announcers and clowns. After watching him perform and hearing the audience's enthusiastic laughter, it's hard to imagine him ever having a bad night. But his very first gig as a professional standup comic was a disaster.
"I got a gig at a college in Los Angeles: El Camino College. I got $50," he said. "I went over there and they had my name on a big sign. I was real embarrassed because I'd never seen my name up like that before, and I thought, geeze, I've never played anywhere before.
"I went up on the stage and nobody introduced me, and there was no microphone, and it was an awful crowd. I stood and looked at my feet and mumbled. I took the 50 bucks and I learned a million things. It was real humbling.
"You train in bombing. For every good night I had, I can name a thousand ones that didn't work," he said, laughing.
"He saw me in a club when I was just starting out and he said, 'you talk to these white people like they're dogs. We got to get together, brother,'" he said. "He's always been real nice to me and always had a high regard for Native people."
Pryor invited Hill to appear on his television show in 1977, which attracted the attention of Hollywood. But Hill was appalled at what was being offered there.
"A lot of Hollywood people looked at me as a kind of novelty act [but] what I did was make people laugh with us, not at us," he said. "You know, I could probably be a millionaire if I went out and did some Uncle Tom-Tom act and played Dumb-Indian-Me-Not-Know.
"When I was in Hollywood, I had a lot of offers to do sitcoms, and they were from the white point of view with their values and it was all a bunch of crap," he continued. "I turned it all down."
Even an offer from famed television producer Norman Lear to work on a sitcom about Indians living in New York City couldn't move him because the material was based on stereotypes. CBS came back to him again with a similar idea. Hill wanted to know how they were going to approach the show and found out the writers had worked on The Beverly Hillbillies, and saw Indians in New York in the same way!
"What I talk about is often a threat to white people. It's a threat to whatever they stand for," he said. "To me 'white' is an attitude. It's not a skin color. . . . It's whoever doesn't have a sense of humor, and it doesn't matter if you're Native or not."
Hill's act has matured as he's grown older and had a family, admitting that he was more acerbic and blunt when he started out. He still pokes holes in white attitudes but finds growing as a person has made him a better comedian.
"My goal is to be an old man like George Burns. I'd be this militant comic [because] who's going to doubt an old Indian man," he said.By Mervin Brass
Windspeaker Contributor
REGINAWhen Wavell Starr stepped into the squared circle against the notorious Chi Chi Cruz, Starr had a lot on his mind.
But it was nothing like the first time he climbed through the ropes.
"How did I get myself into this," Starr said, recalling his first professional wrestling match. "I was really nervous."
Judging from his performance against Cruz, Starr's nerves seem to be a thing of the past.
"He's an up and coming young star," said International Wrestling Alliance promoter Tony Condello. "I do believe he (Starr) has a big opportunity to hit it big."
Condello says when an Indian wrestler shows potential and talent, like Starr, that wrestler is very marketable.
Starr's wrestling abilities developed early in life.
"He use to wrestle with a stuffed elephant named Dumbo," said Iona Starr, Wavell's mother. "I remember it. I wonder if he remembers it."
Although mom knows the name of the game is entertainment, she still gets a bit concerned when things get rough.
"I cringe when he looks like he's getting beaten up," she said. "I hope he's not getting hurt."
Well, Wavell has taken some lumps and bruises in his short career.
"The stuff hurts," said the 225-pound grappler describing a match where an opponent smashed his head with a steel chair. "He hit me as hard as he could. I seen stars for a bit."
Starr says both his shoulders have suffered ligament and tendon damage from the grind of the ring.
As well, he says, an injured left knee, internal bleeding and a concussion - which probably came because of the chair - can be added to the list of aches and pains.
However, rough physical sports are nothing new to Starr.
From 1991 to 1995, Starr played tight end and linebacker for the Regina Rams of the Prairie Junior Football League. He said he uses this experience to prepare for a match.
"I compare it to getting ready for a football game," he said. "You get both physically and mentally psyched for the match."
"I've become accustomed to living out of a suitcase," said the lead voice for the Red Dog Singers. "It's part of my life. I'm never going to let it slip away."
One thing Starr let slip away was his match with Cruz. During the bout Starr and Cruz tossed and threw one another across the ring. The action moved onto the floor where Cruz and his partner, the dangerous "Massive Damage" double-teamed Starr.
Then the long legged Stacie, Cruz's girlfriend, distracted Starr with provocative flirting. And just when Starr grabbed a chair to even the odds, the referee saw Starr with the illegal object. He was disqualified but vowed to seek revenge the next time the two tangle in a no-disqualification match.
