The man who called himself "the pit bull terrier of native journalism" has died in Lethbridge, Alta.
Everett Soop, who suffered from muscular dystrophy and spent much of his life in a wheelchair was one of
Canada's first aboriginal columnists and an adept cartoonist. He was 58.
An early leader in the native political movement that surfaced in the 1960s, Mr. Soop is the only aboriginal
artist whose work is represented in the Museum of Caricatures of the National Archives of Canada.
According to Prof. Beverly Rasporich at the University of Calgary, Mr. Soop's body of work has made a
"significant contribution" to Canada’s cultural history.
His cartoons were published in Kainai News, one of the first native newspapers in Canada, as well as in
several other native and mainstream publications. In July1999, his peers gave Mr. Soop long-overdue
recognition when the Native American Journalists Association bestowed on him its Lifetime Achievement
Award.
His unflinching honesty and tenacious spirit are why Mr. Soop stood out among many dedicated and gifted
native people. "I am not an expert on Indians," he once said. I am an Indian, and I have a right to speak my
truth as I live and experience it."
Blood Indian and a member of the Blackfoot First Nation, Mr. Soop walked in two worlds. He was a man who
loved classical music, whose studio in his home on the Blood Indian Reserve in Southern Alberta was filled
with bocks on philosophy, anthropology, art and world religions.
Yet he also was deeply proud of his own particular origins and spoke Blackfoot fluently. He paid close
attention to traditional teachings and practices as a child growing up among various elders.
He credited his maternal grandmother, Enimaki, with teaching him to be proud of being an Indian. As he
recalled, she related traditional stories of Napi, the Blackfoot trickster, and stood with generations of
strong women in Soop's family.
The practice of roasting, passed on by his maternal uncles, was applied in his cartoons and columns.
Mr. Soop was an outspoken political satirist who did not suffer fools gladly and took on both cultures—
white and aboriginal— with telling accuracy. He was ahead of his time, exposing injustices and messy
realities two and three decades ago that only now are beginning to be dealt with: suicide, incest, sexual
abuse, political corruption and addiction.
He was fiercely determined to tell the truth as he saw it. One of his cartoons depicts a skeleton outside an
office. «The [band] council will see you now," a secretary tells the skeleton.
For his trouble, he spent his life ostracized by many people in his own community. «Self﷓determination,"
he once told me, "requires healing, and healing means no longer pushing unpleasant realities under the
carpet."
Born in 1943, Mr. Soop attended St. Paul’s Indian Residential School until Grade 5. He then numbered
among the first generation of Blood Indians to attend school off the reserve, and in 1964 completed high
school in Cardston, Alta.
Recognized for outstanding skills in art and writing, Mr. Soop received a cultural scholarship from the
Department of Indian Affairs. He took various courses at the Alberta College of Art, Brigham Young
University in Utah, the University of Lethbridge, and later at Mount Royal College, where he studied
journalism.
In 1968, he joined the newly launched Kainai News as an editorial cartoonist and columnist.
Diagnosed with muscular dystrophy at 16, Mr. Soop thought at first that he would be dead in a few years.
Although he secretly thought his illness had turned him into "an Elephant Man," he managed to present a
public image as a trickster incarnate. Nothing made him feel better than making other people laugh.
Outrageousness was his way to challenge adversity.
For all that, he once told me that he believed his important work in life did not begin until he was in a
wheelchair—until he had become an advocate for the disabled, seeking to make meaning of a life fraught
with adversity and pain.
"I never did really see myself as a cartoonist," Mr. Soop said. "I saw myself as a humorist. So the way I
viewed muscular dystrophy was almost incidental to what I wanted to do. I guess it stopped me from doing a
lot of things I wanted to do, some things I wanted to be . . . To me, life is all about people and the world
around you, not what you become."
Only a handful of friends saw Mr. Soop's tenacity of spirit. When he lost the use of his legs about 20 years
ago, he faced what he feared most—becoming what he called a "vegetable Soop» in a wheelchair.
Instead, he worked diligently to educate medical professionals, the wider public and peers with disabilities.
"He was a national treasure," said Gary McPherson, who nominated Mr. Soop earlier this year for an Order
of Canada. Mr. McPherson, who is an executive at the University of Alberta, came to know Mr. Soop while
serving on the Alberta Council on the Status of Persons with Disabilities. The contributions of both men
were recently acknowledged in the book Making a Difference: Profiles in Abilities.
"He was highly principled," Mr. McPherson added. "He stood up to nepotism and adverse politics."
Sadly, as his health deteriorated, Mr. Soop had few visitors in his final years. Among the wealth of insights
he gave me, the greatest lesson was never to abandon those who are disabled, terminally ill or dying.
"My friends are not coming in the last 10, 15 years," he said toward the end. "But they'll all be there at my
funeral, and that's telling me they'd sooner see me dead than alive.
"Why the hell do these people make such a display of a funeral? I wish I could moon them, if I had a chanceâ
€”stick my butt out from my coffin."
Sandy Greer is a Toronto journalist, media educator and filmmaker. Her 1998 documentary, Soop on Wheels, is
about the life of Mr. Soop.
Everett Soop, who suffered from muscular dystrophy and spent much of his life in a wheelchair was one of
Canada's first aboriginal columnists and an adept cartoonist. He was 58.
An early leader in the native political movement that surfaced in the 1960s, Mr. Soop is the only aboriginal
artist whose work is represented in the Museum of Caricatures of the National Archives of Canada.
According to Prof. Beverly Rasporich at the University of Calgary, Mr. Soop's body of work has made a
"significant contribution" to Canada’s cultural history.
His cartoons were published in Kainai News, one of the first native newspapers in Canada, as well as in
several other native and mainstream publications. In July1999, his peers gave Mr. Soop long-overdue
recognition when the Native American Journalists Association bestowed on him its Lifetime Achievement
Award.
His unflinching honesty and tenacious spirit are why Mr. Soop stood out among many dedicated and gifted
native people. "I am not an expert on Indians," he once said. I am an Indian, and I have a right to speak my
truth as I live and experience it."
Blood Indian and a member of the Blackfoot First Nation, Mr. Soop walked in two worlds. He was a man who
loved classical music, whose studio in his home on the Blood Indian Reserve in Southern Alberta was filled
with bocks on philosophy, anthropology, art and world religions.
Yet he also was deeply proud of his own particular origins and spoke Blackfoot fluently. He paid close
attention to traditional teachings and practices as a child growing up among various elders.
He credited his maternal grandmother, Enimaki, with teaching him to be proud of being an Indian. As he
recalled, she related traditional stories of Napi, the Blackfoot trickster, and stood with generations of
strong women in Soop's family.
The practice of roasting, passed on by his maternal uncles, was applied in his cartoons and columns.
Mr. Soop was an outspoken political satirist who did not suffer fools gladly and took on both cultures—
white and aboriginal— with telling accuracy. He was ahead of his time, exposing injustices and messy
realities two and three decades ago that only now are beginning to be dealt with: suicide, incest, sexual
abuse, political corruption and addiction.
He was fiercely determined to tell the truth as he saw it. One of his cartoons depicts a skeleton outside an
office. «The [band] council will see you now," a secretary tells the skeleton.
For his trouble, he spent his life ostracized by many people in his own community. «Self﷓determination,"
he once told me, "requires healing, and healing means no longer pushing unpleasant realities under the
carpet."
Born in 1943, Mr. Soop attended St. Paul’s Indian Residential School until Grade 5. He then numbered
among the first generation of Blood Indians to attend school off the reserve, and in 1964 completed high
school in Cardston, Alta.
Recognized for outstanding skills in art and writing, Mr. Soop received a cultural scholarship from the
Department of Indian Affairs. He took various courses at the Alberta College of Art, Brigham Young
University in Utah, the University of Lethbridge, and later at Mount Royal College, where he studied
journalism.
In 1968, he joined the newly launched Kainai News as an editorial cartoonist and columnist.
Diagnosed with muscular dystrophy at 16, Mr. Soop thought at first that he would be dead in a few years.
Although he secretly thought his illness had turned him into "an Elephant Man," he managed to present a
public image as a trickster incarnate. Nothing made him feel better than making other people laugh.
Outrageousness was his way to challenge adversity.
For all that, he once told me that he believed his important work in life did not begin until he was in a
wheelchair—until he had become an advocate for the disabled, seeking to make meaning of a life fraught
with adversity and pain.
"I never did really see myself as a cartoonist," Mr. Soop said. "I saw myself as a humorist. So the way I
viewed muscular dystrophy was almost incidental to what I wanted to do. I guess it stopped me from doing a
lot of things I wanted to do, some things I wanted to be . . . To me, life is all about people and the world
around you, not what you become."
Only a handful of friends saw Mr. Soop's tenacity of spirit. When he lost the use of his legs about 20 years
ago, he faced what he feared most—becoming what he called a "vegetable Soop» in a wheelchair.
Instead, he worked diligently to educate medical professionals, the wider public and peers with disabilities.
"He was a national treasure," said Gary McPherson, who nominated Mr. Soop earlier this year for an Order
of Canada. Mr. McPherson, who is an executive at the University of Alberta, came to know Mr. Soop while
serving on the Alberta Council on the Status of Persons with Disabilities. The contributions of both men
were recently acknowledged in the book Making a Difference: Profiles in Abilities.
"He was highly principled," Mr. McPherson added. "He stood up to nepotism and adverse politics."
Sadly, as his health deteriorated, Mr. Soop had few visitors in his final years. Among the wealth of insights
he gave me, the greatest lesson was never to abandon those who are disabled, terminally ill or dying.
"My friends are not coming in the last 10, 15 years," he said toward the end. "But they'll all be there at my
funeral, and that's telling me they'd sooner see me dead than alive.
"Why the hell do these people make such a display of a funeral? I wish I could moon them, if I had a chanceâ
€”stick my butt out from my coffin."
Sandy Greer is a Toronto journalist, media educator and filmmaker. Her 1998 documentary, Soop on Wheels, is
about the life of Mr. Soop.
| EVERETT SOOP The pit bull of natlve journalism BY SANDY GREER September, 2001 |