Catching up with Gary Farmer on Route 66

Five minutes later I was zipping past IJA staff setting up for a silent auction, and what looked like the wrapping up of a wedding rehearsal (the bride and groom wore matching sneakers). I then paused at a doorway, looking out onto an unloading area with a few trucks and caterers darting about.

And suddenly Gary Farmer came into view.

You see, I had originally played phone tag with the TV and film actor back in 2009. At the time, I was a Wisconsin Public Radio reporter working with NPR on a series of Native American features that tied in to the PBS series, “We Shall Remain.” My attempts to connect with Farmer were sporadic, given our busy schedules, my looming deadline, and the number of people I had already scheduled for interviews. This included comedian Charlie Hill, actress Elaine Miles and a representative of a Wisconsin tribe seeking federal recognition.

Alas, Farmer wasn’t to be one of my sources. The NPR series finished before we were able to connect, and I had to move on to the next project. Every so often when I heard of his latest movie or his band Gary and the Troublemakers’ latest gig, I’d throw out an invite via email or Instagram. This went on for 16 years.

So here we were then, pausing in the doorway of the Isleta Resort & Casino, staring at each other in disbelief.

“Brian!” said Farmer, recognizing me by my conference name tag. “Hey, how ya been?”

Gary Farmer the journalist

Five minutes later, we did an impromptu interview in the resort’s grand ballroom. The stage was already set with his band’s instruments, and a few audio technicians were prepping for a sound check. But Farmer was quick to mention his appearance tonight wasn’t just about his music.

“We got employed by the Indigenous Journalists Association, which I used to be a part of,” he said, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his dark porkpie hat. “I used to publish Aboriginal Voices Magazine, I had the Aboriginal Voices Radio and I wrote the license for the Aboriginal People’s Television Network, which is a sponsor here this week.”

“So you’re not just an act, you’re actually a former journalist?” I asked.

“I was more of a publisher,” Farmer shrugged, as a sound technician gave him a thumbs-up on the microphone levels. However, he said that while he was with Aboriginal Voices Radio, he convinced the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission that Native content was for the public good in Canada. “Each broadcaster had to give us 4% of their annual budget to ‘the public good,’” he said.

Farmer — who is of Cayuga, Mohawk and Tuscarora heritage — said this experience led the Aboriginal People’s Television Network to reach out to him for help in getting licensed for major broadcasts.

Loving the Alien

Audiences know 72-year-old Farmer best from his many TV and film roles, including “Smoke Signals,” “Skins,” “Dead Man” and, more recently, the sci-fi comedy series “Resident Alien,” where he plays Dan Twelvetrees. His character is the adoptive father of Asa Twelvetrees, both members of the Ute Tribe in Colorado, where much of the story takes place. The series just wrapped after four seasons, with high critical acclaim.

“It was a real family,” Farmer said fondly about his experience on the show. “Showrunner Christopher Sheridan, he’s a human being, and you can see it. There’s not a lot of human beings out there in my business. They’ve got other interests, mostly financial.”

Farmer credits Sheridan’s heart, intelligence and open mind for creating a series where Native people weren’t stereotyped or used as background actors (Season 4’s sixth episode, “Soul Providers,” features Harry the alien marveling at the power and connectedness of a powwow.)

“I suspect we might make a feature film at some point,” Farmer said.

Hard times ahead for Native representation

Another Native-themed series that starred Farmer, “Reservation Dogs,” ended its run after three seasons in 2023. With “Rutherford Falls” canceled in 2022 after two seasons and NBC recently passing on a series that would have been set at a Native American center in Oakland (but filmed in Portland), there doesn’t appear to be as many shows with Natives on either side of the camera these days.

“I’m a little insecure about it all,” said Farmer. He sees recent actions by the Trump Administration against DEI initiatives and removal of references to slavery and genocide in museums as a sign of cultural and political suppression.

“Because my livelihood has been film and television and theater for 50 years, and with basically a fascist regime coming in, they’re gonna control content any way they can, and they’ve got a lot of power, obviously.”

Farmer says he does see people fighting back against Trump’s policies; not just Natives, but Americans in general.

“We just got to wait and see,” he said. “I’m in my latter years of performance, so it’s not going to affect me much. I think I can sustain, I can always drive Uber or something. Get a newer car.”

Joking aside, Farmer added that he’s done his work but he’s concerned most for the young Native performers, producers and writers.

“We just got to get together and figure out how we can have our own television network and create our own content for our own network,” said Farmer. “Don’t rely on these private broadcasters as fickle as they are, depending on the politics. We know our politics. Earth first.”

Checking the time, I realized Farmer needed to get ready for his gig in front of nearly 400 journalists, and I needed to change ahead of the event. We shook hands, and agreed to try and connect a little sooner than 16 years next time. By the time I was back and dressed for the banquet, Farmer and his band were already in place, ready to regale the IJA with a night of hard-driving R&B. My ever-reliable instinct said it’d be a great show.