40 p o r t l a n d monthly magazine meaghan maurice Personalities 3 Stitch in Time By Mihku Paul June Ranco, a member of the Penobscot Nation, guides her family’s 68-year-old Indian Moccasin Shop in Wells into the future. T he Indian Moccasin Shop is still run by original family mem- ber June Ranco, who says, “We haven’t changed one bit. I think that’s why people like us so much.” It’s a small wood-framed storefront attached to a house on Post Road. Daylilies and iris- es grow alongside the worn front steps flanked by picture windows filled with Native American wares and souvenir items. A parking lot to the right features a handmade sign with blue lettering that reads “Parking for Indian Shop ONLY. Police take notice.” As soon as you step inside, you’re en- veloped in a delightful slice of Maine his- tory. Glass cases filled with jewelry, statues, and bits and bobs fill every available space. Countertop displays feature bead strands and pouches as well as toys for children. Most of the countertop space to the right is filled with moccasins of all shapes and siz- es. Some are clearly handmade while others are from a well-known artisanal moccasin maker in Minnesota. Canyoutellmehowtheshopstarted? “My father and mother were in Ogun- quit. That was about 1949. They were down there two summers, and then they decided they wanted something more permanent, you know, so they discovered this place. I believe they came here in 1951. When they found it, it was just that one room. It was a fish store, and guys from Massachu- setts owned it. So they bought that and added this [storefront] on. They added their apartment on the back.” Has your family always owned the shop? “Yes, my father started it. They called him Chief Tomekin. He wasn’t really a chief, but that’s what people called him. He was Penobscot.” June hands me a postcard with a group portrait of four family members in pan-Indian pageantry dress from an early era. I’m reminded of my own grandfather, who traveled in a Wild West show back in those days with Bruce Poolaw, a Kiowa who lived on Indian Island and had a souvenir shop there. “This is my father, Leslie Ranco. That’s my grandfather, Joseph, and here is my grandmother and my aunt, who was called Princess Goldenrod. My mom’s picture is right here over the door. Her English name was Valentine Ranco, but her Indian name was Little Deer. My father made all the moccasins back then.” Today, a Pow wow is held—the annual Val Ranco Pow Wow—each year in honor of June’s mother, Valentine, named for the holiday. This is the 16th year of the event, which started in 2008, the year Val Ranco passed. She was ninety-six, the oldest living Penobscot at that time. At a recent clambake on Hermit Island, I learned from the campground owner that Princess Goldenrod used to come there each summer to sell her wares. June verifies this practice of summering in tourist areas along the Maine coast to sell Native crafts, which was common for the tribes in Maine back then. Wheredoyougetyourmoccasinsfromnow? “Well, I get some from Canada, you know. This here is Norwegian elk, and the leath- er has skyrocketed. My last guy told me, he says, ‘I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do this anymore because the leather is so ex- pensive.’ And then he passed away anyway, so. So now I don’t have anybody, and I only have maybe one pair of these left now.” Didyouacquireanyskillsgrowingup, forbeadingandbasketry? “I used to make baskets, you know, and bookmarks and things. And I have a collection of small baskets that were made by different people years ago. This is sweetgrass right here. You know you can refresh that…just soak it in some warm water for a lit- tle bit. Did I tell you how they braid- ed their sweetgrass? They’d go ’round by Skowhegan and that area and pick sweetgrass all day. Then they’d bring it home, and all the women would have their own sweetgrass, you know. But it would be all loose, so what they did was, one night they’d go to this person’s house. Everybody would I have people telling me that they have…whatever blood. Cherokee or whatever. I say, well, that’s nice.