Henry Rodriguez, one of the region's most prominent tribal elders, devoted most of his life to sustaining American Indian culture. But his affable nature and commitment to sharing his heritage made him admired by non-Indians as well.
"You couldn't help loving this person," said Stephanie Mood, a Grossmont College professor who collaborated with him on language-preservation projects. "What a beautiful person he was, just the epitome of an elder."
Mr. Rodriguez, 82, was killed Thursday in a broadside collision on state Route 76 on the La Jolla reservation.
A lifelong advocate for Indian causes, Mr. Rodriguez spent more than 30 years fighting to restore San Luis Rey River water rights and cash settlements to his tribe and others affected by diversions dating back to the early 1900s.
A deeply spiritual man recognized by his flowing hair and colorful headbands, "Uncle Henry," as he was called, often led Indian ceremonies. He also conducted weddings for insistent couples who didn't care that he wasn't ordained.
He grew up on the rural North County reservation, poor in money but rich in traditions. His mother told him ancient stories he later penned in a book now used as a teachers' text.
A product of a grammar school that sent him home for being barefoot and boarding schools that sought to Anglicize Indians, Mr. Rodriguez helped get American Indian courses taught in California schools.
In addition to tribal leadership positions, Mr. Rodriguez served on many boards and commissions, including a local school board. He often lectured classes on Indian language and culture.
After serving in the Army Air Forces during World War II, he attended San Diego State University but quit six credits short of a degree. California State University San Marcos made up for that last year, awarding him an honorary doctorate in humane letters.
Trim and fit except for an asthma condition, Mr. Rodriguez often walked miles at a time, right up to his last days. He liked the exercise and being out in nature.
He loved wild birds and fed them morning and evening. "I say, 'Hello bird.' I talk to the trees," he told the Union-Tribune last year.
Dancing was another of his pleasures. Ballroom, country, swing – he was smooth at them all.
"He was still dancing up to the age of 82, and he was good at it. You ask any woman in this county who's ever danced with him," said daughter Betty Jean Robeen, with whom he lived on Palomar Mountain. "Sometimes he'd have three or four ladies waiting in line."
His playful yet powerful spirit was exemplified in an e-mail sent yesterday by Nancy and Randy Wilkerson of Oceanside:
"We asked Henry to officiate at our wedding in September 2000. We are not tribal members, so we were deeply honored when, true to form, he agreed. In a ceremony that wove ancient beliefs with modern realities, Henry crafted a rare connection between two very different cultures.
"At the reception, he told his table-mates wonderful stories. He also caught the bride's garter, took a few spins on the dance floor and jumped in a Conga line. He was 80 at the time."
Mr. Rodriguez's other survivors include daughters Donna Uchimura of Ontario and Patricia Rodriguez of Palomar Mountain; sons Robert of Palm Springs, Richard of Chino and Tommy of Washington; a sister, Julia Yago of Escondido; 17 grandchildren; 13 great-grandchildren; and one great-great-granddaughter.
No services are planned. At his request, remains will be cremated and ashes spread on the reservation. The family plans later to announce a tribute gathering and a scholarship fund in Mr. Rodriguez's name.
