Native activist/poet John Trudell pairs with the Pines

When fellow songwriter, actor, activist and serviceman Kris Kristofferson wrote the song "Johnny Lobo" about John Trudell, he said he was "fighting for his people and his soul." He didn't mention, though, that a lot of that fighting took place in Minneapolis.

"Those were exciting times — a lot of positive action went down with a really good community," said Trudell, who was president of the Minneapolis-based American Indian Movement through most of the 1970s.

Before you go thinking of the 68-year-old American Indian hero as the ultimate warrior, though, he admitted, "I probably would have moved there, but I'm really not made for those winters."

Trudell's AIM duties were sidelined in 1979 after his pregnant wife and three young kids were killed in a house fire on the Duck Valley Indian Reservation on the Idaho-Nevada border — a tragedy some blame on vengeful arson. He eventually found a new path making records and performing as a musical poet in the 1980s, earning the praise of Bob Dylan and Jackson Browne and winding up on tours with Peter Gabriel and Midnight Oil.

Now based in the San Francisco Bay Area, Trudell is braving the cold weather to revisit the Twin Cities for the first time in a decade at the invitation of local Americana rock band the Pines, who will share the stage with him Saturday at the Cedar Cultural Center.

"John is one of those rare outspoken individuals who turn your worldview on its head, cracks it open, and lets some light into some pretty dark places," said Pines co-leader David Huckfeldt, who saw Trudell speak at a rally for convicted AIM member Leonard Peltier in 2003. "It would be difficult to think of anyone who had a more unique influence on the Pines in our early days."

Raised around the Santee Dakota Reservation in Nebraska, Trudell came to prominence in 1969 as the so-called "Voice of Alcatraz." He broadcast a weekly radio show from the 19-month occupation of Alcatraz Island, led by a group called United Indians of All Tribes to protest treatment of Indians across the country.

"That whole time is honestly just a vague memory to me now," Trudell said with a laugh, "but I think the occupation and the work of AIM at that time rekindled the spirit within native people and awareness for our plight. That sparked everything that came after it."

His protest actions became more contentious in the 1970s, including one incident in which he burned a U.S. flag outside a courthouse just a day before the fire that killed his family. He said the case probably never will be solved: "The government had every reason to cover it up then, and they still have every reason to."

Once he turned to music, Trudell said, "I knew I wasn't a singer, but I had these lines that felt like they could be put over music." His first recordings were with traditional tribal drums, but he switched to guitar "because that's the modern generation's drum."

He fell in with Browne's circle to make the 1986 album "AKA Graffiti Man." Then Dylan became an all-out advocate for Trudell's work.

"He even brought George Harrison to come see me perform one night," he recalled. "Bob was just really cool to us and gave us credibility amongst other artists, when we really didn't fit in anywhere."

After several more albums in the 1990s and 2000s, Trudell was cast in movies including a prominent role in 1992's "Thunderheart" with Val Kilmer as well as "Smoke Signals" and "On Deadly Ground." He would have kept acting more often, he said, but, "There weren't enough positive roles I wanted to do."

"I don't begrudge the native actors who take roles that don't really further our cause, because if they're actors by trade, they have to take the work and make a living. I'm not an actor by trade, though, so I don't have to do those roles if I don't want to."

Trudell continues to write and record and plans to release an album next year, titled "Azi's Dream." He continues to speak and write on behalf of American Indians, but much of his activism of late has centered on another cause: legalizing industrial hemp, which could be used for fuel and many other resources.

"It's not the getting-high kind of hemp, it's the kind of hemp that can change and really save the world, I think," he said. "It's environmentally friendly, and it can be friendly to industry."

Admitting it's not a cause taken as seriously as some of his other work, he added, "It's brought out the fight in me. That should tell you something."

Chris Riemenschneider • 612-673-4658