Younger Oglalas refer to Wilson and other Council members as "uncle Tomahawks." AIM charges that Wilson has misused tribal funds, and resorted to nepotism to fill tribal posts. The truce agreement signed last Thursday calls for a complete audit of the Council's books.
Despite AIM's apparent distaste for tribal government, the militant group found bureaucracy a necessary tool. After the first two tense weeks, when it appeared that the FBI would move in for a quick bust, AIM settled in for a long stay. The hard part was over-the town was secured, negotiations had begun.
As the days grew into weeks, it became apparent that the Nixon administration had decided to end the occupation through peaceful means. What was expected to be a short stay turned into an extended visit, and AIM realized that it needed a more efficient way of managing the occupied village.
On Sunday, March 11-the 13th day of the takeover-AIM declared itself a sovereign nation. Wounded Knee rapidly became a miniature government. A six-man council, which included Banks, Means, and Camp, set up security, maintenance, and housing departments.
The security division issued press credentials, which were a copy of an Indian poem printed on yellow paper. The poem had been sold as a souvenir at the museum prior to the takeover. Security officials, armed with guns, checked credentials at the AIM roadblocks, which were located about 100 yards from the center of the village.
AIM set up speed limits for the village, 5 mph in downtown Wounded Knee and 20 mph in the suburbs. The new government also followed a prohibition policy. All liquor, which is illegal on Indian reservations, was poured out onto the brown Dakota soil.
As the occupation entered its third week, life in the village settled down to an idyllic pace. Indians lounged outside and in the trading post, or built bunkers into the hills that surround Wounded Knee. But the armed personnel carriers that stared down on the embattled village provided a constant reminder that the Federal government waited two miles down Big Foot Trail.
The press, well-versed in military terms after a decade of Vietnam, quickly dubbed the two mile stretch between the roadblocks the "DMZ." In the final two weeks of the siege, a third series of roadblocks, manned by the Oglala Tribal Council, was thrown up outside of the government check-points.
The Council, and particularly Wilson, attempted to exert more influence in the last stages of negotiations. Wilson prevented the press from entering the village, and for the last 11 days of the occupation, newsmen wrote their stories from the roadblocks.
For the first four weeks of the siege, negotiations