Summer - by John McCutcheon
Glenn Miller and His Orchestra with Ray Eberle
Recorded Nov. 5, 1939
sonny, this is sure enough Injun summer.
know what that is, I reckon, do you?
that's when all the homesick Injuns come back
to play. You know, a long time ago, long afore
your ganddaddy was born even, there used to be
heaps of Injuns around here - thousands - millions,
I reckon, far as that's concerned. Reg'lar
sure'nuf Injuns - none o'yer cigar store
Injuns, not much. They wuz all around here - right
here where you are standin'.
be skeered - hain't none around here now,
leastways no live ones. They been gone this many
a year. They all went away and died, so they ain't
no more left.
every year, 'long about now, they all come
back, leastways their sperrits do.
are here now. You can see'em across the fields.
Look real hard. See that kind o' hazy, misty
look out yonder? Well, them's Injuns - Injun
sperrits marchin' along an' dancin'
in the sunlight. That's what makes that kind
o' haze that's everywhere - it's jest
the sperrits of the Injuns all come back. They're
all around us now.
off yonder; see them teepees? They kind o'
look like corn shocks from here, but them's
Injun tents, sure as you're a foot high. See'em
now? Sure, I knowed you could. Smell that smoky
sort o' smell in the air? That's the campfires
a-burnin' and their pipes a-goin'.
o' people say it's just leaves burnin',
but it ain't. It's the campfires, an'
th' Injuns are hoppin' 'round 'em
t' beat the old Harry.
jest come out here tonight when the moon is hangin'
over the hill off yonder an' the harvest fields
is all swimmin' in the moonlight, an'
you can see the Injuns and the teepees jest as
plain as kin be. You can, eh? I knowed you would
after a little while.
notice the leaves turn red 'bout this time
o' year? That's jest another sign o'
redskins. That's when an old Injun sperrit
gets tired dancin' an' goes up an'
squats on a leaf t' rest.
I kin hear 'em rustlin' an' whisperin'
an' creepin' 'round among the leaves
all the time; an' ever' once 'n a
while a leaf gives way under some fat old Injun
ghost an' comes floatin' down to the ground.
- here's one now. See how red it is? That's
the warpaint rubbed off'n an Injun ghost,
sure's you're born.
soon, all the Injuns'll go marchin' away
agin, back to the happy huntin' ground, but
next year, you'll see'em troopion'
back - th' sky jest hazy with'm and their
campfires smoulderin' away jest like they
1907 John McCutcheon
the end of October, as Halloween approaches, Chicagoans
put on a warm jacket, rake their leaves, and think
about the beautiful autumn days they are enjoying
and the ones they remember from their youth.
I was a boy growing up in Berwyn, Illinois, a suburb
10 miles southwest of downtown Chicago, my father
and I would rake the leaves in our front and back
yards, place them in our rusty old wheel barrel,
and dump them in a pile in a vacant lot across the
alley from our home. Then we burned them. The aroma
was always enchanting.
the Sunday before Halloween, the Chicago Tribune
always ran Injun
by John T. McCutcheon on the front cover
of their Magazine section. Every year. The Trib
began doing so in 1907. Before long, many other
newspapers around the company ran Injun
Summer as well.
to me every autumn when I was a boy, just as his
father had read it to him when he was a boy growing
up in the next town over, Riverside. Tens of thousands
of other fathers read Injun
to their children every autumn, not only in Chicago
but across America.
few years ago, the Trib stopped doing so. Why? One
Tribune Magazine staff member told me that they
did not want to offend Native Americans. Offend
Native Americans? What about offending generations
of Tribune readers who love Injun Summer
by not publishing it anymore?
well, today's Trib will be very happy to sell you
a poster of Injun
from the Tribune
Store. Better buy one before somebody complains....
have posted Injun Summer
for you to enjoy and to share with your loved ones,
wherever you live.... Simply copy and paste this
link into an email to them: http://tuxjunction.net/injunsummer.html
On Sunday, Oct. 16, 2011, The Chicago
Tribune ran Injun Summer again, the first time
since 1992. It even appeared online! Just follow
this link to see it:
George Spink, Los Angeles, California, United States of America (2011-2012)