All language subtitles for Death.Valley.Days.S03E07.Sequoia.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-THR_track3_[eng]

OLD RANGER:
And now,Death Valley Days.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]

Ha. Yah.

Yah. Yah.

Howdy, folks,
I'’m the Old Ranger

and I have
another interesting
true story for you

about the historic
Death Valley country.

One of the great sites
of the West,

indeed of the whole world,

is the big trees
of California--

the largest and oldest
living things on earth.

Tonight, I'’m going
to tell you why

these giants
were given the name...

Our story starts
around the year 1770,

in the
Southern Appalachian Mountains

where Tennessee
and Georgia meet,

the home at that time
of the Cherokee Nation.

It is a man-child.The first born.

It is good.

His father will rejoice
when he returns.

His father will not return.Why do you say that?

My heart knows.

Some white men
marry Indian maidens

and are content
for the rest of their lives.

But not George Gist.

His work is trading.

Used to traveling
from village to village.

It is only natural

if he is not here now.

No, was more than that.

He was homesick
for the sight of white faces.

The sound
of white man'’s talk.

I'’d hope your eyes
would be blue like his.

Your hair
the color of corn.

It is better
he looks like Cherokee.

Little George Gist.

He must be given
a Cherokee name.

What would be
Cherokee for Gist?

Gist.

The nearest word...

in our tongue...

is Sequoyah.

Sequoyah.

So, I name you Sequoyah.

For the father
you will never see.

[OLD RANGER]
Perhaps it was because
Sequoyah never knew the love

of a father himself
that he was so devoted
to his daughter, Ayoka.

Put it
around my neck, Father.

Not yet.

First I must stamp
my mark upon it.

Why?To show who made it.

This mark tells everybody
for all times

Sequoyah made this necklace.

For his little girl, Ayoka.I'’m afraid not, Little One.

That would take writing.

Writing?
What is writing?

A secret
the white man has.

He puts his talk on paper.
On talking leaves.

And the words talk back
to him whenever he wishes.

Can I put the necklace
on now, Father?

Isn'’t it pretty?

"Made by Sequoyah,"

the finest silversmith
in the Cherokee Nation.

Oh.It'’s true.

You ask anyone,

"Who makes
the handsomest headbands
and breastplates?"

And who has
the dearest little daughter?

[ laughs ]

WOMAN:So...

Playing games again
when you should be busy.

I have been working.

See what
he has just finished?

This is a beautiful piece
of work.

Chief Pathkiller
will gladly buy it
for his wife.

No!

It looks
far prettier on Ayoka.

It is not for sale.

You'’ve never given me
anything half so beautiful.

I will start something
for you at once.

From these
old Spanish coins.

You'’ll do nothing
of the kind.

You'’ll go out hunting
like other Cherokee braves.

Bring back game we can eat.

Furs we can trade
for the things we need.

As you wish.

How was it
when I married you, Sequoyah,

I thought there was something
great about you?

[ groans ]

[ grunts ]

[ grunting continues ]

[ grunts ]
I thank you.

It is good to look up
at the sky again

after being inside
for long weeks.

Good to hear the wind
and the trees.

The voices
of the...of the birds.

[ sighs ]

He will get better.

The medicine man
has done all he can.

The knee is shattered.

Sequoyah will always be
a cripple.

Father?

The world is full
of noises calling.

Even the grass speaks.

I have brought you
a present.

From the mission school
in the Valley.

Talking leaves.What do they say?

I do not know.

They speak only
to the white man.

All my life, Ayoka,
I have wondered

why it is the white man
is superior to the Indian.

This-- This is the reason.

The Indian knows only
what he hears

from the lips
of those around him.

If he forgets,
it is gone.

When he dies,
it dies with him.

Yes, Father.

With the wisdom
of the white man

is preserved forever.

Is it any wonder
if the white man

is becoming master?

Master of the Cherokees?

Of the Cherokees, no.

For the Cherokees are going
to have the same advantages

as the white man.

Bring me bark
from the birch trees, Ayoka.

Some berries to make ink
and a small stick.

I, Sequoyah,
am going to give my people

a written language.

E...

E...

I...

I...

I...

I...

Well?

It is no use.

I have made
a thousand signs.

One for each word
in the Cherokee language

and now, I can'’t even
remember them myself.

So, you have
wasted a year.

There must be some way.

If the white man can do it,
so can I.

You are only half white man.

I have more roots
and berries, Father,

to make into ink.

Your father is all through
with his writing.

He has come
to his senses at last.

Now you can go back
to your silversmithing again.

I'’ll get your things
and bring them out

or do you prefer to work
inside the wigwam?

There are a thousand words
but only a few sounds.

If I could make a sign
for each sound.

Sally, that might be
the answer.

Idle daydreams, Sequoyah.
Forget them.

You have a family to feed.Make me fresh ink, Ayoka.

No, I forbid it.

You'’re wasting
your life, Sequoyah,

and ours too.

But, Sally, our whole tribe
is in darkness

because they cannot read
and write.

You will be
in darkness, too,

the darkness of the blind
if you do not stop using

your eyes
for such foolishness.

Day by day,
it'’s becoming more difficult

for you to see.

When it becomes
too difficult,

I will get some spectacles.

Spectacles?

An invention
of the white man

which restores strength
to failing eyes.

What you need is something
to restore strength

to a failing mind.

If our people wish
to read and write,

let the missionaries
teach them.

Teach them what,
the white man'’s tongue?

It is the Cherokee'’s speech

I want to catch
and make fast,

Cherokee thoughts and words,
the laws our chiefs draw up,

the lullabies
our women sing.

And I mean to do it

if it takes me
the rest of my life.

Oh, no, you won'’t.

I'’m not going
to stand for it.

Mother!

No, Sally.

Let them burn.You can'’t.

You'’ll break his heart.Oh, you'’re as bad as he is.

Taking his side
in this foolishness.

Bringing him bark,
making him ink.

She has burned them all.

Your writings
have gone up in smoke.

It does not matter,
Little One.

I'’m going to start
all over again anyway.

[ mutters syllable ]

[ continuing ]

Witchman, witchman,
bad medicine.

Stop it, stop it!

Sequoyah.What were they saying?

What they hear
their elders say.

That you are
practicing witchcraft.I?

Day after day,
you sit here,

drawing signs,
making strange sounds.

Sounds
of the Cherokee language

that everyone utters.

See?

Last night,
a cow died calving.

Last week, a hail storm
cut down our corn.

They say it is you

who are casting
these evil spells.

Do you believe that?

I'’m afraid
for you, Sequoyah.

Give this up
before the whole tribe

turns against you.

They can order you
put to death.

Sequoyah?

Sequoyah, are you
listening to me?

What you have just said

has given me a new sound
to add to my list.

You are mad.

I...

SALLY:
Sequoyah?

It has been hard
for you, Sally.

I am sorry.

It does not matter.

I have put up with this
for nine long years, Sequoyah.

Now I am through.

I'’m returning
to my father'’s tent
across the mountain.

Bear with me
a little longer.

It is no use.
You will not change.

This thing is like
a disease with you.

It has crippled your mind.

You'’re like a child,

forever scratching
senseless marks.

[ gasps ]
Please, Sally,
don'’t leave me.

I am so alone.

Ayoka will look after you.

[ sighs ]
There.

Finished at long last.

Every sound
in the Cherokee language

put down in written form.

Now you can rest, Father.
Your work is finished.

It is just begun.

I still have to convince
the Cherokee people

that this is something
they can use.

And how will you
do that, Father?

Bring the chief
and the council

here to our wigwam

and give them
a demonstration.

What if
they refuse to come?

Oh, they will come...

to humor that poor,
old mad man Sequoyah.

This represents the labor
of the past 11 years?

Twelve.

One page of marks
that any child could make?

And then read back again.

A month, a year,
a lifetime later.

I will show you
how it works.

Ayoka, wait outside
until I call.

You will each, in turn,
utter some sentiment.

I will write down
the words

as they come
from your mouth.

This is the land
of the Cherokees.

The corn that grows
in these fields, we planted.

Our gods dwell
in these skies.

That is enough.

Ayoka?
We are ready.

The braves have spoken.
Read their words.

"This is the land
of the Cherokees.

"The corn that grows
in these fields,

"we planted.

Our gods
dwell in these skies."

[ all murmuring ]

It is magic.

My first pupil.

There is some trick to it.

He has cast a spell
upon the paper.

It is no trick.

Learn these 86 signs

and you can write any word
in the Cherokee tongue.

Your speech
as Chief Pathkiller

will be carried on paper

throughout
the Cherokee Nation.

Your exploits as a warrior

will be set down and read
by Cherokees

who are not yet born.

No longer will our treaties
with the white man
be misunderstood,

for they shall be in writing,
Cherokee writing.

[ murmuring ]
Good.

I will send my son
to you at once, to learn.

He is a bright boy.

I will order
all of the young of the Nation

to be taught.

And what of yourselves?We?

We'’re not too old?

Study with me

and I promise,

you will all be able
to read and write.

Everyone is rushing
to learn,

writing on anything
they can find.

Trees, rocks,
the walls of wigwams.

Chief Blackfox made a trip
clear across the mountains

just so he could
write a letter home.

They all say,

"Sequoyah has
performed a miracle."

After 12 years, why not?

It took the white man
hundreds of years, Mother.

While their women
plowed the fields,

hulled the corn,
chopped the wood?

Surely you can
forgive him, now.

You were always
on his side.

When you married him,

you felt there was
something great about him,

and you were right.

Sequoyah today
is the greatest man

in the Cherokee Nation.

Then he has no need of me.
I told him I was through.

I will never go back.

Na.

La.

Sequoyah, the General Council
of the Cherokee Nation

presents you
with this silver medal,

made to our order
in Washington

as a token of our gratitude
and admiration

for your inventing
the Cherokee alphabet.

Probably the greatest
single contribution

that any red man
has ever made his people.

But couldn'’t somebody else
go in your place, Father?

A younger man?

Ayoka, it is my alphabet.

And already three quarters
of the Cherokee Nation

has learned it.

Yes, but there are so many
who have not even heard of it.

Those who went West,

some years ago behind
the fall of waters.

It is to them, I must go.It is so far away.

I will write you.

I wish...Oh, Father.

Take care of yourself,
my daughter.

I will go now.

The Great Spirit
be with you.

This is a gift
from the white man,

a printing press
for the Cherokee alphabet.

With this machine

we will be able
to print our writings

just as the white man does.

I have asked you all here

to this council
to show you something

that we
of the Cherokee Nation

can be proud.

And here it is,
my brothers.

The Cherokee Phoenix.

The first newspaper

ever published
by an Indian tribe.

[ reading ]

"Our Father,
Heaven dweller,

"hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom, let it make
its appearance."

Mother?Ayoka?

What brings you here?

A letter for you.For me?

A messenger brought it
all the way from Arkansas.

Your father?Yes.

Shall I read it for you?No, no.

Let me have it.

The signs he used
to sit there drawing.

Shall I tell you
what they say?

I can read it myself.Mother.

When did
you learn to read?

SEQUOYAH:
Wherever I go,

crowds flock around me.

Yet, I'’m always alone.

My life is full,
but my heart is empty.

What I have gained
suddenly seems nothing

compared to what
I have lost.

He'’s saying things
he never said before.

Perhaps, it is easier
to write them

than to say them.

I am going to him, Ayoka.Oh, Mother.

I'’m so happy.

We must
send him word at once.

And I, myself,
shall write the letter.

OLD RANGER:
What has this story
I'’ve just told you

got to do
with these big trees?

Because
they were centuries old

when Christ
walked the shores of Galilee.

Because
of all living things,

they come closest
to possessing immortality,

it was suggested
by an Austrian botanist

who saw them

that they be named
for a man

who ranks
among the immortals--

an American since
they are found nowhere
on earth

except our own
Pacific coast,

a red man
since they are redwood trees.

Who but Sequoyah,
the self-taught Indian

who in turn
taught his whole people

to read and write?

These, then,
are his monument.

TheSequoia giganteum,

known simply as Sequoias.

And most beautiful
of them all,

the Sequoia known
as Abraham Lincoln.

Standing alone,
a symbol of the loneliness

of all great men,

who, in the face
of ridicule and hostility,

strive to serve
their people.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]