The Man Who Cursed Livermore

Every town has its quirks, but Livermore seems to have just a few more nuts in their bushel.

After all, not every town in America can boast the , or losing their centennial celebration time capsule or receiving a Native American curse.

Now most folks think the whole curse was just a flush of flamboyance from an artist who didn’t like discovering some city workers had hacked the bottom few feet of his creation.

On the other hand, it did seem like quite a coincidence when the curse came true just a few weeks later.

The man behind the creation of both the curse and the tampered totem pole is Adam “Fortunate Eagle” Nordwall, whose story is told in a documentary “Contrary Warrior: The Life and Times of Adam Fortunate Eagle” at 2 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 13, on KQED-Channel 9. 

The former San Leandro resident, whose father was Swedish and mother was Chippewa, was born on the Chippewa reservation in 1929. After his dad died, he was sent to boarding school and eventually moved to the East Bay.

Outwardly, he was your average suburban dad who owned his own termite company while raising his three children with wife Bobbie, a Shoshone. But inside beat the heart of an activist and showman.

Nordwall specialized in publicity stunts, which brought more serious issues to light. As president of the Bay Area Council of Native Americans, he charmed his way into the Italian Americans' San Francisco Columbus Day play and festivities in 1964. He then humiliated the event organizer — who played Columbus — by flicking off his wig with a Native American ceremonial stick during the re-enactment of Columbus meeting with the indigenous people.

Nordwall's group was not asked back. And when they did return two years later, the irate Italian-Americans called out the riot police.

In 1973, he traveled to Italy in full tribal dress and announced that he was taking possession of Italy for all American native people by right of discovery.

“What right did Columbus have to discover America when it had already been inhabited for thousands of years?,” Nordwall announced upon his arrival. “The same right I now have to come to Italy and proclaim discovery of your country.”

Nordwall became a media sensation for about a minute, even getting a chance to meet Pope Paul VI. When the Pope held out his hand to Nordwall, instead of kissing the pontiff's ring as tradition dictated, Nordwall offered his own ringed hand. While The Pope didn't kiss the ring, he did graciously, and with a grin, take Nordwall's hand in his. 

Nordwall’s best known as the architect of the original Occupy movement: He organized the occupation of Alcatraz by Native Americans in November 1969.

More important to Livermore, that same year Nordwall donated an 18-foot totem pole to celebrate the city’s 100-year incorporation anniversary. He didn’t exactly create it for the city. He had been commissioned by a shopping center to make the totem, and when they didn’t pony up, Nordwall donated it to the city.

City workers chopped off a few feet from the bottom when they installed it in Centennial Park at Fourth and Holmes streets.

An angry Nordwall confronted the city council and demanded the totem be restored to its former height. The council refused. Nordwall hit the city with the famous Livermore sewage system curse.

In either a stunning coincidence or Norwall’s powerful magic skills, the city experienced a sewer backup about two weeks later. The city restored the totem to its original state, but didn't apologize to Nordwall.

Nordwall, who now lives on the Paiute-Shoshone reservation with Bobbie, never lifted the curse.

Livermore has had a few sewer issues over the years, always resulting in someone noting the curse was back in play.

Oh, and that lost time capsule? Turns out it was buried under the totem pole.