Chester Cunningham wanted our people to “look in the mirror and like themselves.” He believed in the inherent good of everyone, including those cast aside by the criminal justice system, and dedicated his career to reducing the high rates of Indigenous incarceration. He was beloved for his ethical values and sense of humour — someone who’d help you get your charges dropped and affectionately tease you on the same day.
Over a lifetime of advocacy, his brightness never wavered. He taught his grandchildren to live a joyful life as a form of resistance. Even after a rough day, he’d pull on his orange hunting jacket and walk the land with his family. In our belief systems, we never left our Garden of Eden; we were never kicked out of our paradise. And that’s something worth fighting for.
Born in 1933 to a fourth generation Métis family, Cunningham left high school early to play semi-professional baseball, before working in construction and mining. It wasn’t until the 1960s that he found his calling. At the time, Indigenous people in Alberta were finally founding their own institutions, making the province a hotbed of First Nations and Métis political organizing. The movement needed leaders to contend with the aftermath of colonial dispossession, residential schools, the sixties scoop, and suppression of Indigenous economies. Our communities were fractured. Alienation to the land, and to each other, led to criminalized coping mechanisms and, coupled with systemic discrimination, overincarceration.
Recognizing that Indigenous people needed advocates, Cunningham became a courtworker at Edmonton’s Native Friendship Centre. It opened his eyes to blatant miscarriages of justice — Indigenous people who did not speak English, or did not understand procedures, were unknowingly pleading guilty. This exposed a need for something greater — an organization dedicated to reducing Indigenous incarceration — and the Native Counselling Services of Alberta was born. Under his leadership, the organization grew to a robust network of Alberta-wide programs and services.
For his commitment to a just world, he was made an honorary chief by the Piikani Nation in 1973 and later received the Order of Canada. But what Cunningham was most proud of was his investment in people. He trained over 25,000 people through Native Counselling Services. Today, the organization has expanded to include BearPaw Media and Education, an equitable housing program, the Stan Daniels Healing Centre, and many community programs.
Cunningham retired in 1997, but his deep belief in justice meant he never really stopped working — typical for Indigenous Elders who never put down their sense of responsibility. Even after moving into a retirement home near Westlock, he would still accompany friends to court 100 kilometres away — just to help them fight a traffic ticket.
This is the first in a new series honouring local legends and unsung heroes who’ve recently passed. To recommend someone whose story deserves memorializing, email [email protected].
This article appears in the May 2025 issue of Edify
