Answering the Call
“I feel very fortunate I grew up surrounded by natural resources,” says Baker, recalling his youth on a wind-swept cattle ranch. “I had the opportunity to listen to elders talk of old days on the Knife River—of clans, families, and their way of life. I did not know it at the time, but those experiences set me up for the path my life has taken.”
In 1973, Baker, a member of the Mandan-Hidatsa Tribe, landed a seasonal job at Theodore Roosevelt National Park doing everything from picking up trash and cleaning bathrooms to law enforcement and backcountry patrols. He fell in love with the job, changed his college major to criminology, and became a patrol ranger, diligently working his way up the ranks at Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, Knife River Indian Village National Historic Site, and Fort Union Trading Post National Historic Site.
By age 39, Baker was superintendent at Custer Battlefield in Montana. The previous superintendent at Custer had laid the groundwork for changing the park’s name to Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument and including the voice of Native Americans in its interpretive story. When Baker enacted the makeover, hardcore Custer buffs from the United States and Europe rebuked him with angry letters, a petition for removal, and seven confirmed death threats. All the while, Baker patiently brought tribes back to a place they once felt unwelcome.
On his first morning in the position, Baker had the chance to fulfill one of his dreams with the simple act of answering the phone, “Superintendent Baker.” To his surprise, the irate voice on the other end called him “an ignorant, stupid Indian.” At that moment, he had two choices—get mad and hang up, or talk to the man. He chatted with the caller for 15 minutes, mentioning his two college degrees and extensive experience. At the end of the conversation, the caller apologized.
“[The transition] wasn’t a bad experience,” he recalls. “It was educational. It taught me how to work with people, to teach managers how to humanize ourselves by talking about families and children to find common ground.” Baker later became superintendent at Chickasaw National Recreation Area, Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail, and now Mount Rushmore National Monument.
“Native Americans are not used to promoting themselves,” he says, but during his career, he’s learned how to balance Indian and NPS perspectives. Baker sees similarities between that balance and the ways his Hidatsa ancestors wondered if they could live peaceably with the Mandan: “The answer was ‘yes’—if they remained close enough to be allies, yet far enough to be friends,” he says. Baker has taken that philosophy to heart as he brings divergent cultures together. “If I leave any legacy, I would love for Native American young people to be more aware of who they are—and to know that if Gerard Baker can do it, any of them can.”
