junior
an audio production
together with...
Why I wrote 'junior'...
History, Obsession and Why We Feel How We Feel
Once in a great while, your life hits a pivotal moment. You’re blindsided with such an emotional epiphany you can’t believe everyone around you didn’t feel the earth shift.
So it was for me when I heard about Donald Marshall Junior.
I’m from Grand Manan Island. It figures into the tale, so stay with me. I promise not to go complete David Copperfield on you! Grand Manan and Campobello are a couple of New Brunswick’s little outlier islands; much closer to Maine than NB, largely forgotten by Canada back in the day. Insular. In the seventies, the boat trip from Blacks Harbour, NB to Grand Manan was well over two hours and unless you had sea legs and a constitution worthy of Long John Silver, you’d best resign yourself to high seas and projectile vomiting. Seasoned sailors blanched at the thought of that trip in February. On the other hand, you could jump a fishing boat and be in Maine in twenty minutes. Passamaquoddy county. People of the Dawn. In the Passamaquoddy creation story, Dawn is the daughter of the sea and sky. She was chased into the water by wolves (another group of islands) and transformed into Grand Manan. It’s said that spring ceremonies and hunting rituals took place there.
Before colonizers hit the new world, Passamaquoddy people summered regularly on Grand Manan, expertly navigating the dulsing tides in birch bark canoes. Dulse is an edible sea weed (to the uninitiated) that’s dried in the sun and eaten as a snack- like chips. High in iodine, Omega 3, B12, potassium and fibre, the settlers learned how to forage it (under Passamaquoddy tutelage) along with gull’s eggs come spring. While a steady diet of dulse might get a bit tedious, there’s no doubt it’s saved lives over lean winter months.
Dulse drying, Larry Small
Dark Harbour, Larry Small
Then there’s the story of 200 brave souls fleeing Northern Ireland for North Carolina in hopes of getting out from under the thumb of the Church of England. They got way more than they bargained for here in the new world. After illness and a hurricane decimated their numbers, a nefarious captain named Matthew Rowan dumped them on an uninhabited island with sand beaches and high cliffs. There was initially some confusion whether this might be White Head Island, off Grand Manan, but White Head doesn’t have much in the way of cliffs so I think it’s out of the running. What exactly happened to any men left there, I’m not sure, but in the spring of 1741, Passamaquoddy hunters discovered an English speaking woman with a baby along with 9 or 10 other women on the island. They’d spent the winter eating dulse, periwinkles, clams and anything else they could forage. They proceeded to deliver the stranded women safely to the closest English settlement 100 miles away in their canoes. While this remarkable tale of humanity that effortlessly overcame language and cultural barriers was almost lost, it’s well known that the villainous Captain Rowan became Acting Governor of North Carolina in 1753 for two years, believe it or not. While history may not always be written by the victors, there’s no doubt that the victors consistently have the loudest voices and
the best chance of being heard, alas.
The Passamaquoddy people stopped visiting Grand Manan regularly. They sold baskets on the beaches during the first half of the twentieth century and then seemed to fade away. I suspect there was much more to the story than that.
I do remember growing up, there were still whispered tales of settler’s relationships with ‘the Indians’. There were stories of friendships, betrayal, love stories and stories of lies and treachery. But these stories weren’t discussed openly; not in my family. Just tantalizing whispers. Grand Manan was insular.
Southern Head, Lorie Jenner
Whether these stories prepped me somehow and stoked my subconscious for what would become an obsession, I can’t say, but when I first heard that a Mi’kmaw boy had been sentenced to life in prison unjustly, I was riveted. The boy, now a man, had lost eleven years of his life. I was outraged! The more I heard, the angrier I became. I had nose to nose arguments with co-workers. They’d roll their eyes when they saw me coming. ‘She’s gonna go off on that Donald Marshall Junior case again!’ What did it matter? Likely he’d committed a hundred crimes he wasn’t charged for. I couldn’t believe they weren’t as appalled as I was. I couldn’t believe the casual bigotry. How could this happen? And now that it had happened, why weren’t people outraged? It turned out people were outraged; just not all people.
I armed myself with Michael Harris’ Justice Denied, The Law vs Donald Marshall. I carried it around like a newly converted religious zealot and would quote pertinent passages I’d memorized to anyone unfortunate enough to enter into a casual discussion with me. Clearly, most people thought me insufferable. I didn’t care.
As the Magisterial Inquiries progressed, I really hoped to meet Donald Marshall Junior. I knew it was ridiculous to tell him that I’d believed him all along. After all, it was becoming clear to everyone that a massive miscarriage of justice had taken place and no one with any sense could argue that. I didn’t get opportunity to meet him. Life intervened and time passed, but there was always this nagging feeling at the back of mind that we hadn’t done enough. I hadn’t done enough.
It was only when I was taking a couple of theatre workshops that it occurred to me. I like to write, however I’m likely the laziest writer in the history of the universe. It suddenly hit me that maybe it wasn’t too late to do something! I could write a play. Obsession reignited!
I went back to Michael Harris and Justice Denied. I spent several days at NS archives going over trial transcripts. I wrote ‘Junior’ in three weeks with the help of Elder Rose Morris who coached me on language. Upon completion, I began looking for someone from Membertou to critique my play. I wasn’t going to assume I was remotely on the right track. After all, my life had been nothing like Junior’s. I was fortunate enough to connect with Dr. Jane McMillan who put me in touch with David Marshall. David read the play, corrected me on a number of points and gave it to Chief Paul and the Membertou Council. David continued to act as consultant.
In May 28, 2018, we did a staged read through at the Chester Playhouse. Angus Stevens was cast as Junior but I had some difficulty finding an actor for Donald Marshall Senior. After hanging around and making a pest of myself at a couple of Thundermaker’s concerts, I met Hubert Francis who (after some discussion) graciously accepted the role. David made the trek from Membertou to attend the read through and it was well received.
After the success of the read through, I really wanted to reach more people. I wanted people to forget about race and culture and think ‘that could be my kid, or my brother or sister or that could be me!’ With the current climate – and I wasn’t sure it’d really changed that much from 1971, I asked the Membertou Council if they would fund an audio version of Junior. I thought it was more important than ever that Junior’s story not be forgotten. I received a call from Graham Marshall, Junior’s cousin and with Graham's help, MI'KMAW KINA'MATNEWY and the Membertou Council made it happen.
Castalia Beach, Lorie Jenner
Let’s see… What else should you know? Incredible cast that rehearsed during Covid and recorded just as Omicron hit. I changed everyone’s last name except the principals. There are two fictional characters – the narrator and the law clerk. All other characters are based on their real life counterparts. I did take some creative license – condensed a few scenes but in essence, it’s all true. I also substituted the actual pejorative and offensive language from the transcripts. While I wanted to be as true to the times as possible, I did not want to facilitate hateful language. Any mistakes are mine.
Over these past four years, I’ve met people that have changed my life and I’m so grateful to them. I’m particularly grateful to David and Graham for trusting me with Junior’s story and to Hubert for lending his talents and being my friend. As an aside, I still love dulse and gull’s eggs and hang out on Grand Manan every chance I get. And I still ponder about my forebears and their multi faceted relationships with the ‘Passamaquod’ as Elder Rose would say.
I told David Marshall once that I was worried that people would say ‘Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to tell this story?’ and Dave said ‘You’re the one who felt it and you’re the one who wrote it’ and he’s right. I still feel it. I’m hoping you feel it too.
Wela'lioq,
Lorie Jenner